Rainwater by Sandra Brown Page A

He batted her hand away, but she hoped that, in some inaccessible recess of his brain, her pride and love registered.
    Looking back at the man across the table, she said, “Thank you for spending so much time with him.”
    “My pleasure.”
    “If he can learn to recognize numbers, if he learns their relevance to each other, he might be able to learn the same about letters. He could learn to do simple arithmetic, he could learn to read.”
    “That’s my thinking.”
    “At least there’s hope. There’s always hope, right?”
    His smile slipped, but only a fraction. “Not always. But sometimes.”
     
    The following morning Ella was in the dining room clearing the breakfast dishes when Margaret burst through the door of the kitchen. Her hat was askew, her face beaded with perspiration, and she was trying to catch her breath.
    “What in the world?” Ella exclaimed.
    Miss Violet was affronted. “Well, I never.” She and her sister, frozen in motion, stared at the colored woman, aghast.
    Mr. Rainwater surged to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
    “I heard it at the store,” Margaret gasped. “There may be trouble out the Thompsons’ place.”
    “Ollie and Lola’s?” Ella asked.
    “That’s right. Your friends.”
    “I must go.” Her heart in her throat, Ella gave her apron strings a yank, and when it came off, she handed it to Margaret as she squeezed in through the door connecting the dining room and kitchen.
    She put on her hat, then knelt down and lifted Solly out of the chair where he sat tapping his cereal spoon against the edge of the table. “Finish up breakfast, Margaret. Put the groceries away. If I’m not back by lunchtime—”
    “You go on, see to your friends,” Margaret said. “I’ll take care of things here, whether them old ladies like it or not.”
    “I’ll drive you.” This from Mr. Rainwater, who’d followed them into the kitchen.
    “No, I’ll take my car.”
    “Your car ain’t been started since—”
    “I can drive myself, Margaret,” Ella snapped.
    “But my car is parked out front.”
    Ella divided a look between her maid and her boarder, who’d extended the commonsense offer of taking his car, which was newer, more reliable, and easily accessible. “Thank you, Mr. Rainwater.” She preceded him down the center hallway, carrying Solly, who was now tapping his spoon against her shoulder bone.
     

EIGHT
    “They’re your friends?”
    Ella had tucked Solly between her and Mr. Rainwater in the front seat of his car. She’d given him directions out of town. He was driving fast, faster than she would have dared to push her older-model Ford.
    “We went through school in the same class, although they dropped out in tenth grade. Ollie’s daddy died, leaving him to take over the management of the dairy. He was the youngest child, and the only boy. All his sisters were married and long gone.
    “There was never any doubt that he and Lola would get married someday. They’d always been crazy about each other. When Ollie left school, Lola insisted they go ahead and make it official, so she could help out on the farm, too. They’ve got four children now. They’re good people. Take a right at the next crossroads.”
    The road onto which Mr. Rainwater turned was unpaved. Tall weeds grew in the ditches on both sides. Beyond the ditches, barbed-wire fences separated rows of corn plants struggling for survival in the arid soil from fields of cotton being picked by workers trailing long sacks on their bowed backs.
    It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, but Ella guessed that already the temperature was topping ninety. They had no choice except to leave the car windows down. The wind was hot and gritty. It had whipped off Ella’s hat and was tearing at her hair, but she barely noticed.
    Her thoughts were on her friends and their misfortune. With each baby, Lola had grown a little chubbier, and the gap between her front teeth seemed to widen, but she was one of the happiest individuals Ella