Chapter 155 Ghost From the Past
Case made her breakfast, even though it was the middle of the night. Over a delicious plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits, Andrea contemplated how to tell him the story she’d never imagined she’d tell anyone. He had a right to know, though, especially after tonight. His shirt was still wet while he cooked for her, but he refused to go take a shower while she was still up.
Sipping a steamy hot cup of coffee, Case waited for her to finish eating. Never once did he ask her if she wanted to tell him what was bothering her, but she could see the concern in his eyes.
When Andrea was finished, she scooted her plate away and reached for his hand across the table. He gave it to her. “I’ve never told anyone what happened before. My family knows because they were there, though Leslie probably doesn’t remember much, if anything.”
“It’s okay,” Case said, smiling at her. “You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” she said, though she noted her hands were shaking as she spoke. “I do want to. It just might take me a few minutes to get it all out.”
“Andrea….”
“Please, Case. Just… let me try.”
“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” He squeezed her hand gently and drew circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.
Andrea took a deep breath and tried to be as matter-of-fact about the story as she could be, but it was hard because it was so ingrained into who she was. “When I was a little girl, I used to love to go and play on my grandparents’ farm. My Uncle Joe, who was my grandma’s brother, lived there, too. He helped Grandpa Jack with all of the farm work. I really loved Grandpa Joe. I thought of him as another grandpa.” She smiled, thinking of all of the times she’d spent with Uncle Joe when she was little. Case smiled at her, and Andrea sucked in a deep breath.
“When I was about four, I was out in the fields playing. My grandma had warned me not to go too far because it was possible a storm might blow up. The sky above me was blue when I left the house, but in the Midwest, a storm can blow up quickly and without warning.”
Case nodded. “Seems to be the case in Tennessee, too.”
Andrea had to agree with that. When Case had left, she had no idea it might rain. “I was out in the corn, and a storm blew up out of nowhere. I didn’t mind at the time. I loved the rain. I stood out there with my arms spread wide, my mouth open to catch the raindrops on my tongue.
“But there was lightning in the distance, and my grandma was scared. She sent Uncle Joe out to find me, afraid I’d get hit my lightning or drenched in the rain. I heard him coming, heard him shouting my name, calling for me to come on and get back to the house. I thought it was a game, so I ran deeper into the corn, away from him. Uncle Joe followed, shouting at me to come on, that it wasn’t funny, but I kept running and laughing, leading him further into the cornfield, away from home, closer to the storm.” She had to pause then. Andrea took a deep breath and a drink of water. Case continued to rub her hand, waiting patiently.
“The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It was a loud rumble of thunder, but the lighting itself was so loud, so sharp, when it hit. It shook the ground. Then, there was the sound Uncle Joe made. He wasn’t too far away from me when it happened. I can still smell it—that ozone, burnt flesh, awful stench. It burns my nose sometimes when I’m least expecting it.
“He was still trembling when I came over to see what had happened. I can picture him there, a huge hole in the cap he always wore, smoke coming off of his head, his arms and legs twitching. The burn went down the side of his head to his arm. The ground beneath him was muddy from the rain, and he seemed like he was seeping into it, or it was coming up to consume him.
“I screamed and screamed, but I didn’t touch him. I was afraid to. I also didn’t run for help. It was as if my legs were captured by the cornfield, caught in the same mud he was lying in—he was dying in.”
Tears were streaming down her face as the images came to life before her eyes. “My grandfather got there eventually. He tried to help Uncle Joe, but by then, it was too late. Grandma came, too. I remember her wrapping her apron around me so I couldn’t see as Grandpa tried to help. She was screaming her brother’s name, crying—it was so awful.” She swiped at her cheeks, trying to get the memories out of her mind, back into the subconscious where at least they didn’t haunt her every day.
“They all tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I knew it was. I knew if I hadn’t run from him, if I would’ve gone to him to begin with, Uncle Joe wouldn’t have died such a horrible death out in the mud and the rain that summer day. It’s a burden I’ve carried with me all of these years, and every time it storms, I remember. I remember the sounds, the smells, the anguish. It all comes back to me in ways I can’t understand or explain.”
Andrea took another sip of water. She was done now. She couldn’t say anything more, even if she wanted to.
Case was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Andrea… that wasn’t your fault. It isn’t your fault that your uncle got struck by lightning. It’s a horrible thing, something a child should never have to experience. But it was an act of God, an accident. You have to learn to let go of that.”
She shook her head. “No, it was my fault. I should’ve listened to my grandma. I should’ve gone to Uncle Joe.”
“So you could be hit, too? Andrea, you were four. You were a child. It was not your fault.”
“It’s nice of you to say that, Case. But you’re wrong.” She pushed her chair back from the table, stood, and took her plate to the sink, rinsing it and putting it into the dishwasher. “Thank you for cooking. I’m going to go to sleep now.”
Case nodded, running his hand through his hair. She assumed he’d want to take a shower before he came to bed, and she hoped she’d be asleep before he got there because she didn’t want to talk about it anymore—ever again.
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