Thunder from the Sea Read online

  Tom suddenly realized how very much he cared for Fiona … and Enoch as well. Now Fiona was ill. Her eyes seemed large in her pale, gaunt face. Tom had heard how very sick people, like his parents, seemed to just fade away and die with their illnesses. What if Fiona? …

  Tom stood up. “I’ll 7et you some tea,” he said in a tremulous voice, “and a biscuit.” He rushed into the house hoping Fiona didn’t notice the tears he couldn’t hold back.

  “Dear Lord, please don’t let anything happen to Fiona,” Tom prayed.

  7 Somethin’ Isn’t Right

  When Enoch arrived home that evening he was distressed over Fionas condition. “I’m takin’ you to Dr. Sullivan at Chance-Along tomorrow,” he insisted. “We’ve got to find out once and for all what’s ailin’ you, and why you’re heavin’ your stomach every day.”

  Tom helped Enoch get supper: cheese and ham scrambled with eggs, and slices of Fiona’s fresh bread. Enoch insisted Fiona stay on the couch, and he carried a tray of food in to her. Tom and Enoch ate together in the kitchen.

  After dinner Fiona decided to go to bed early. “Tom,” she said as Enoch was helping her up the stairs, “be a good lad and bring in the dry clothes.”

  Tom had completely forgotten about the broken clothesline. All of Fiona’s hard work was still lying on the ground. “I’ll go right now,” he said, heading for the back of the house. He was grateful that Fiona hadn’t looked out the window.

  Thunder followed Tom to the backyard. The early autumn breeze blew gently and cool. It hadn’t been a windy day, Tom thought, so the clothesline didn’t fall in the wind. Thunder sniffed at the clothes, then looked up at Tom questioningly.

  After unpinning the clothes and putting them back in the tub, Tom examined the rope to see if it was frayed. It looked fairly new, and where it was broken it was not ragged at all. “It had to be Bert. This line was cut with a sharp knife,” Tom muttered to Thunder.

  “Are they dry?” Enoch asked when Tom came into the kitchen carrying the load of wash.

  “No, they’re dirty. Someone cut the clothesline, and I’ll bet a dollar it was Bert.”

  “That cockabaloo! I have my bets on him too,” Enoch exclaimed.

  Tom set the tub on the table and began sorting the clothes from slightly dirty to very dirty. “Shall we wash them again?”

  “We’ll have to,” said Enoch. “But we mustn’t tell Fiona. After all her work washing ’em, she’ll be upset to see ’em like this.”

  Enoch pumped water into a big basin and fired up the stove again. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us tonight,” he said.

  After the water was hot, Enoch poured it into the washtub. Tom and Enoch took turns scrubbing and wringing, and then they carried the laundry outside. Thunder sat and watched as Enoch tied the clothesline again. By the time they had finished hanging the clothes, it was dark. The moon was shining on the bay and down through the crab apple trees.

  Enoch put his arm around Tom’s shoulder. “Thank you, Tom, for taking fine care of Fiona.”

  “Thunder told me she had fainted,” Tom said, patting the dog’s head. “He was right crazy, barkin’ and howlin’ and pullin’ at me.”

  “He’s a special dog, that one,” Enoch agreed, bending over to scratch Thunder’s neck. “It was a blessin’ findin’ him out there in the sea.” Enoch stood up. “I’d like to know for certain who cut that clothesline.”

  “It must’ve been Bert. He was here teasin’ the life out o’ me ’cause I was hangin’ clothes.”

  “Soon as I get a chance, I’m goin’ to talk to Amos. There’s been too much bad feelin’ becauseof Thunder. Enough is enough.” Enoch went inside.

  Tom sat on the porch steps and buried his face in the soft fur around Thunder’s neck. “I wonder if Bert ever did mean things to the Murrays before I arrived.”

  Were all these bad things happening because of him?

  The next morning Thunder was not tied to the fence waiting for Tom. Where was he? Tom walked around the house, but there was no sign of the dog. “He’ll show up,” Enoch said. Still, Tom had a sinking feeling.

  Enoch and Tom helped Fiona into the boat for their trip to the doctor. “It’ll be shorter to go by boat than to take the horse and cart over the bumpy roads.” Enoch started up the engine, and Tom unhitched the ropes.

  “Shall I come too?” Tom asked.

  “Why don’t you stay and keep an eye on things,” Enoch said. “And you can look for Thunder.”

  “I will.” Tom smiled at Fiona. “I hope you’re goin’ to be all right.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Fiona assured him. “Thank you, child.”

  Tom watched as the boat pulled away and headed to the shore across Rumble Reach. Then he flew up the steps of the stages to the high ground, where the Murrays’ house stood. “Thunder! Thunder!” He raced out to the chicken coop where Rufus, feathers ruffled, crowed and chased after him, pecking at his legs.

  Tom checked the yard and shed, then dashed out back along the path to the tuckamore and berry bushes. “Thunder! Thunder!”

  Once, when he thought he heard a bark, he stopped, listening. But the only sound was the echo of his own voice as he called his dog’s name, and the shuffle of dry autumn leaves in the wind.

  Finally Tom went to the backyard to take in the laundry. He looked toward the opposite shore and wondered how Fiona was doing and whether the doctor could really help her. “Please, please, make Fiona well,” Tom prayed.

  On his way back to the house, Tom paused by the fence and noticed that Thunders rope was gone. It wasn’t likely the rope had become unfastened—it had been tied with a strong knot. Had someone undone it and taken Thunder away? Bert?

  Tom decided to walk over to the Bosworths to confront Bert. After all, he had cut the clothesline. Tom was sure of that. And Bert had wanted the dog badly. Yes, he was going over there right now.

  After depositing the tub of clothes in the kitchen, Tom went down the side of the hill, through the flakes, to the shore road where the Bosworths lived. As he approached the tall green house he saw Nancy swinging under a tree with little Rowena on her lap.

  “Hey, Nancy. Have you seen Thunder?” he yelled. But Nancy didn’t answer. She leaped off the swing and pulled a screaming Rowena into the house with her.

  Ruby poked her head out the door. “Did you lose Thunder, boy?” Tom could see Nancy watching him from behind the curtains.

  “Have you seen him?”

  “No, I ain’t seen him,” Ruby answered. “How’s Fiona? Has she gone to the doctor yet?”

  “She’s there now,” Tom answered. “Where’s Bert?”

  “Out somewhere. Maybe helpin’ Amos down on the flakes.” Ruby went inside.

  Tom hadn’t seen Bert or Amos when he passed the flakes earlier. After a moment’s deliberation, he headed back to his house. Thunder knew where he was fed and loved. Perhaps he’d have come back already.

  As Tom climbed the road to the high land, he began to worry about Fiona again. She and Enoch should be back this afternoon. Even though it was still too early for their return, Tom looked anxiously out to the mainland, watching for any signs of Enoch’s white skiff.

  Tom picked the last of the summer daisies that grew by the side of the road. He’d surprise Fiona with them. He’d surprise her too by putting away the clean clothes.

  He reached the gate to the Murrays’ yard. Once more he called, “Thunder! Come home, boy.” But there was no sign of the dog.

  •••

  The sun was about to set when Tom heard the sound of an engine in the harbor. He looked out and saw Enoch’s skiff as it putted up to the wharf.

  The door slammed behind Tom as he ran outside and darted down the hillside path to the lower road. Enoch had already tied up the boat, and Fiona was on to the dock when Tom arrived, out of breath.

  Fiona was smiling and her eyes sparkled. Her face seemed less pale—even rosy from the trip across the harbor. “Hello, Tom,” she said.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Fiona put her arms around him. “Don’t worry about me so much, lad.” She looked over at Enoch, who stood by watching them.

  “What did the doctor say?” Tom asked Fiona. “Are you well?”

  “I’ll tell you all ’bout it,” she answered. “But right now I’m tired and I’m goin’ to lie down.”

  Somethin’ isn’t right, Tom thought. Somethin’ they’re not tellin’ me.

  8 Missing!

  enoch helped Fiona out of her sweater and onto the couch. “Fiona has something to tell you,” he said to Tom.

  Fiona patted the sofa cushions, beckoning Tom to sit by her. He walked slowly, his heart pounding, then sat down and looked into her gray eyes. Was she going to die? Like his mother? A lump grew in his throat and he could hardly ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “Tom,” she said, taking his hand. “There’s nothing wrong at all. In fact, it’s something wonderful. I’m goin’ to have a baby!”

  A baby!

  Fiona went on. “We can hardly believe it! After all these years …”

  “A baby.” Tom finally spoke. “When?”

  “In the spring. April! That’s why I’ve been feeling so ill, you see.”

  Tom had heard that women in a family way sometimes felt sick. He was relieved that Fiona wasn’t going to die. But now a strange new emotion came over him—something he couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t joy, like he should be feeling. It was sadness. But, why?

  “Will you be all right?” Tom asked. “I mean … the doctor is so far away….”

  “That’s true. But we have Margaret Rideout up the road. She’s a granny—a midwife. She delivered Nancy Bosworth and lots of other babies over the years. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help me
, too.”

  Enoch said, “We need to celebrate, Tom! Shall we make a cake or something for supper?”

  Tom nodded and stood up. “I’ll raise the fire.” He went to the kitchen, opened the drafts, then added scraps of wood. The fire began to blaze. Tom poured water into the kettle, put it on the stove, and sank into a kitchen chair.

  He could hear Enoch and Fiona speaking in soft words.

  Enoch peeked in. “Are you all right, son?”

  “I’m fine,” Tom said. But he wasn’t fine. He wished Thunder were around. He could tell Thunder how he was feeling. “I … I’m worried about Thunder is all. I’m afraid he’s gone for good.” Suddenly he raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.

  “Tom? Tom? What’s wrong?” Fiona called after him.

  Tom fell on the bed and gathered his pillow close to him. Things were happening too fast. He was just beginning to feel like part of this family and now … what?

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Tom, may I come in?” Fiona asked.

  Tom sat up. “Yes, please.”

  Fiona stood in the doorway carrying a lantern. Tom hadn’t realized how dark it had become. “Tom, we’ll find Thunder. If he’s gone for good, we’ll get you another dog. I promise.”

  “But I don’t want another dog,” Tom said quietly.

  Fiona placed the lantern on the bureau, then sat on Tom’s bed. “Is somethin’ else botherin’ you?”

  “No. I’m happy for you and Enoch, that you’ll have a baby in the spring.” He suddenly realized what was hurting him so badly. “You w-won’t want me gettin’ in the way … ,” he stammered. “I mean, you won’t need me now that…”

  Fiona gathered him into her arms. “We’ll always want you and need you,” she whispered as he laid his head against her. “And the baby will love and need you too.”

  This was a new dream—one he had never considered. He suddenly pictured himself as an older brother, helping to feed the baby, watching the baby laugh, and holding him—or her.

  “Does Enoch want me to stay too?”

  “Of course he does.”

  Tom sighed. “I’m glad,” he said.

  “I’m goin’ to search everywhere for Thunder today,” Tom announced the next morning. “He’s got to be somewhere on this island.”

  “You go on,” Enoch said. “I’ll go down to the flakes and ask Amos about it. And I want to ask that Bert if he knows anythin’ about our clothesline.”

  Tom headed up the road to the back meadow where Prince was grazing. “Thunder!” Tom called. The horse looked up and then went back to chewing the tall grass.

  Tom crossed the field toward an old, unpainted barn. Grasshoppers tickled his legs and the sun beat down like July instead of late September. He began to run through the grass toward the barn, when he heard someone call his name. “Tom!” It was Nancy. “Wait!”

  He stopped as Nancy caught up to him. “Where are you goin’?” she asked.

  “I’m lookin’ for my dog. Do you know where he is?”

  “Um, maybe.”

  “What do you mean ’maybe’?”

  Nancy folded her arms across her chest. “If I tell you where Thunder is, will you do somethin’ for me?”

  “What?”

  “You told me you’d teach me to read and then you went back on your word.”

  “Come on, Nancy. I never promised any such thing. Where’s my dog?”

  “If I tell you, will you teach me to read?”

  “Um … all right.”

  Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed into a worried frown. “You’ve got to swear you won’t tell anyone how you found out where Thunder is.”

  “I swear!” Tom said impatiently. “Now, where is Thunder?”

  “He’s in the barn, the one in the far meadow.” She gestured to the crumbling barn in the distance.

  “I was about to look there anyway,” Tom said as Nancy scurried away. “Thunder!” he shouted as he headed across the pasture toward the barn. This time he heard a muffled bark. Running, Tom called again, and as he got closer the excited barks were clearer. It had to be Thunder!

  The barn door was latched with a piece of lumber. Tom lifted the board and the door opened. The smell of hay drifted from the dark interior. “Thunder?” He could hear whining and scratching. “Thunder!”

  A joyous bark answered him from a stall on the opposite side of the barn. Tom ran through the darkness and threw open the door of the stall. The black dog leaped up, nearly knocking Tom over, lapping his face and whining happily.

  “Oh, my good boy,” Tom shouted, laughing. “I found you. I found you!”

  A shadow appeared in the open doorway. It was Bert.

  9 The Fight

  tom noticed the rope that bound Thunder to the stall was the one that had disappeared from the Murrays’. “I’m takin’ Thunder home where he belongs, Bert.”

  “No! You had him for a month,” Bert argued. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “Who said we were goin’ to take turns?”

  Bert grabbed for Thunder’s collar, but Tom pushed him away. “You have no right to steal Thunder from me!”

  Bert pushed him back. “How could I steal him from you? You don’t own him!” He shoved Tom again.

  “Keep your hands off o’ me!” Tom warned.

  “No, I won’t! Take this!” Bert pulled his arm back and then slammed his fist into Tom’s chest. Thunder growled and barked excitedly.

  Tom’s anger was stronger than the pain. He dove at Bert, tackling him to the ground. As he landed, Tom heard the crunch of glass. His pocket watch! Now he was furious. He went after Bert, his fists pounding at his chest and face.

  Barking, Thunder circled the boys as they pummeled each other. Bert struggled to his feet and was about to kick Tom when Thunder grabbed the leg of Bert’s trousers with his teeth and pulled him away from Tom.

  “Better stay away from me, Bert. Thunder might bite your head off!” Tom said. “He’s decided who he wants to be with … and it isn’t you!” He brushed himself off and headed out of the barn with Thunder by his side.

  “I don’t want that ugly ol’ dog!” Bert yelled after them. “You won’t get to keep him anyway. My pa’s goin’ to find the real owner if it’s the last thing he does on this earth!”

  When Tom and Thunder came around the final bend in the road back home, Fiona went out to meet them. “Well, lo and behold you, Thunder,” she said, opening the gate. “Where have you been?” She bent down and patted the dog, who licked her hand.

  “Bert hid him in the barn out in the back meadow.”

  “My blessed fortune! What happened to you?” Fiona brushed the dirt from Tom’s hair. “Did you have a fight with Bert?”

  Tom nodded. “He said his pa’s gonna find Thunder’s owner and take him away from us.” He reached into his pocket and brought out the gold watch. The cover was dented, the glass on the face was smashed, and the screw that wound the watch was broken off.

  “Oh, Tom! What’s this?” Fiona put her hand out and Tom dropped the broken timepiece into her palm.

  “My pocket watch. It belonged to my grandfather and then my father,” Tom said. “I’ve kept it like somethin’ precious all this time. I even sleep with it under my pillow. And now it’s ruined. That’s what I get for fightin’ with Bert.” Tom swallowed hard, holding back tears.

  Fiona put her arm around him. “I’ll see if we can get it fixed somewhere.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped the broken watch carefully. “Maybe when Enoch goes to St. John’s.” She noticed a tear on his cheek and brushed it away. “It’ll be all right, my child. You’ll see. Enoch should be back from talking to Amos anytime now.” Fiona went into the house. “Thunder, you must be hungry. I’ll get you some nice leftover stew.”

  Tom sat on the steps, his chin cupped in his hands. Thunder sat next to him, watching him with curious eyes. Would Enoch really be able to make things better with Amos? “I feel like a jinker,” Tom said to Thunder. “I’ve brought nothin’ but bad luck since I came.”

  Thunder leaned against Tom. “We’re both orphans, Thunder,” Tom said. “Don’t you ever leave me again. We need to stick together no matter what.”

  Fiona came onto the porch with a big dish of leftovers. “Here you are, Thunder. A welcome home feast!” She set it on the porch floor and Thunder gobbled it up, his tail swishing happily.