Thankful

by Scotia L.

            “Rain, rain, rain… that’s all California ever does,” ten-year-old Andi Carter grumbled to herself. She had been on her way to the barn when suddenly the blue sky had been interrupted by threatening gray clouds, and pouring rain had started to churn the corral into mud. She stared sadly at Taffy, wishing that she could ride her, but she knew Chad wouldn’t let her go out in this storm. However…

          “Andi, get in here!” a voice bellowed from the house—Chad’s voice. “This storm is getting bigger every second!”

          It was true. Thunder cracked and lightning zigzagged toward her. Andi’s heart beat fast. She hated thunderstorms.

          She decided to brave it. Saying a quick goodbye to Taffy, Andi attempted to cover her head and sprinted out of the barn. She couldn’t see anything except for blurry shapes, on account of the hard rain, so it wasn’t any surprise when she accidentally fell into the horse trough.

          Andi yelped as cold, freezing water soaked into her clothes, saturating her even more than the raindrops. Scrambling out of the trough with great difficulty, she took off again toward the house but slipped, falling painfully into a mud pit.

          She wallowed around helplessly. Oh, why did things have to be so hard?  As if to emphasize her predicament, the sky above blackened ominously and rumbled loudly, sending another bolt of lightning close to her.

          A pair of strong arms wrapped around her and tugged. The mud let out a strange slurping sound as it let her go at last, and she tumbled out of the pit and into Chad’s arms, shivering.

          Her brother held her high above the muddy ground as he sprinted toward the safety of the porch. Then he set her down, shaking. First Andi thought it was because of anger, but as she looked closer at his face, she realized Chad was shaking with laughter. His eyes twinkled down at her, and with a groan Andi realized she would not live this one down.

          “Honestly, Andi—” Chad shook his head. “I know you hate thunderstorms, but I never realized thunderstorms hate you back!  You’re a mess,” he added seriously.

          Andi looked down at herself and had to agree. A thick layer of mud coated her body, and her clothes and hair stuck to her. There was not a dry spot on her, and not only that, she was shivering from the violent rain, and also from the accidental dunk in the horse trough.

          The door flew open, and Mother hurried out. When she saw Andi, her face paled. “Are you alright, dear?”

          “She’s fine,” Chad answered for her. “Just a little wet and, ahem, muddy, is all.”  He fought back a grin, and Andi glared at him through her teardrop-coated eyelashes.

          “Let’s get you inside!” Mother fussed, and with Chad’s assistance, helped Andi into the house. Mitch took one look at Andi and burst out laughing. Justin was hardly better. Melinda, however, shrieked when she saw Andi and hurried to get as far away as possible.

          After Andi was all washed up and dressed in clean, dry clothes, the rain still hadn’t ceased. Worse, she wasn’t feeling that well—she’d never admit it to Mother, or worse, Chad (who would tease her to no end), but her cheeks felt hot and her head was pounding and her throat was scratchy.

          At dinner that night, Chad shared her embarrassing story with obvious delight while Andi shrank down inside her chair. At one point, she sat straight up and glared at her brother. “It didn’t happen like that!” she sputtered. “I didn’t ‘thrash around and fall in the horse trough a second time’!  Chad, you’re lying!”

          “Andrea, watch your words,” Mother said in a disapproving tone.

          Chad laughed. “You were wet enough to have,” he replied. The family watched the two arguers with growing interest and amusement.

          Andi started to reply, but instead coughed into her sleeve. She kept coughing until her throat was sore and painful. When she finally lowered her sleeve, she was met by silence. Her brothers and sister regarded her anxiously and Mother stared at her with obvious worry.

          “Oh, Andrea,” she murmured as she felt her daughter’s forehead. “You have a high fever. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

          Andi slumped back into her chair as tears threatened to spill over. “I—I…” she stammered.

          “Oh, it must have been your exposure to the storm!” Mother fretted. “Let’s get you to bed.”

          “But Mother I—”

          “No buts,” Mother said firmly. “You are a very sick young lady.”  She helped Andi out of her chair and squeezed her arm when she swayed. Mother put a comforting arm around Andi’s shoulders and guided her out of the room and up the stairs toward her bedchamber. There, she left Andi, promising to be back soon with a wet washcloth.

          Andi spent a week fatally ill, confined in her bedroom with the doctor. She had pneumonia, she later learned from her most reliable source: Justin.

          The first day she awoke without being delirious was a happy day for every Carter. It had been seven days of regret, worry, and heartache, most of that time spent gathered around the youngest Carter’s bed, worried that she might slip away any moment. The doctor hadn’t been hopeful.

          Andi cracked an eye open. Then the other. Where was she?  What had happened?  Why was she in her bed with a washcloth on her forehead?  Her head pounded, and her throat ached, but not as much as it had… before.

          Chad was sprawled half on her bed, half on a chair. His tousled head lay inches from Andi’s right foot. He was snoring loudly and looked quite ncomfortable. Despite herself, Andi giggled.

          Her brother snorted and shifted, then finally opened his eyes. When he saw Andi looking at him half-smiling, his sleep-deprived face broke into a wide grin. “Little sister, you’re awake!”

          “I feel better,” Andi said happily. “Less headachy and stuff.”

          Chad moved closer and rested a gentle hand against her forehead. “Your fever’s almost gone,” he mumbled. “Thank God. You have no idea how sick you’ve been.”

          “Like… how sick?” Andi whispered, looking up at her brother with wide, scared eyes.

          Chad didn’t answer, but the haunted look in his eyes made her shiver.

          “So am I well?” she asked optimistically. “Am I not sick anymore? Can I get out of bed??”  Without waiting for an answer, she swung her legs over the side and attempted to stand, but somehow—she didn’t quite know how—she landed back on her bed.

          “You’re not quite cured yet, young lady,” Chad warned her. “Now wait here—and don’t try to get out of bed again—while I tell the rest of the family, okay?”

          “Fine,” Andi pouted, but inside her heart was bursting with thankfulness. Chad hadn’t said it right out, but she knew she had been close to death. Pneumonia—as she would soon know—was a fatal illness, especially to little girls.

          Her “silly accident”, as she would soon become to think of it, had turned out to be something much more. It just shows, Andi thought, that in God’s eyes, everything has a plan. This time, he taught me to be thankful that I’m alive to see the rain, instead of griping and complaining that there is rain.

          Thank you, God.