Heart of the Country

by Rene Gutteridge

  “You were going to make a cake with them, weren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is that why you were so upset?”

  “Well, I like cake an awful lot.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  “But there’s always another day.” I tried to remain calm, but how could I serve a big dinner with no dessert?

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I call her Aunt Faith if I want to?”

  I stroked her hair. Avoided her eyes. “Yep.”

  “I’ve never had an aunt before.”

  “She’s been gone for a long time.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “New York, I think. Last I heard.”

  “New York? Wow.”

  “Don’t be too impressed with that hoity-toity city. We here in Columbus County are the heart of the country.”

  “Did you see her shoes?”

  “Fancy, huh?”

  “Yeah. She’s pretty.”

  “Always has been.”

  “Now you’re like me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We both have our sisters.”

  I rose from the bed. “I have to finish dinner. Will you help Victoria pick up her crayons? You two get washed up, comb your hair, and wash the bottoms of your feet. Hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I returned to the kitchen. Through the back door I could see Hardy grilling the meat. It smelled good. I turned my entire focus to the meal. Everything had to be just right. Even if we had to live without dessert.

  They’d be here in twenty minutes.

  19

  LUKE

  IN THE EVENING I took a walk. The leaves were starting to fall, brilliantly colored if life was good. If not, just brown and dying. Faith and I loved this time of year. We’d sit for hours in Central Park on the weekends, on a blanket, eating goat cheese on brown rice crackers and sipping wine. We had the whole picnic basket and everything. She’d wear amazing dresses that flowed around her legs, showed off her shoulders in a way that always caught my attention.

  I stared at the spot under our favorite tree. I could practically see her, in her favorite white dress with a sweater around her shoulders when it got colder, leaning against me as we talked about everything under the sun.

  A girl skipped by and I lost the image like a leaf blown away. I had so many memories, but they were fleeting. I couldn’t hold on to them for long.

  I could call her. I knew I should. But what would I say? What was there to say? I doubted she’d take my call anyway. She’d hear details soon enough, I guessed, through the media maybe.

  Dread filled me from head to toe as I thought about what my future held. A certain regret danced around that dread, that I’d left my family’s business to pursue what I saw as a more exciting endeavor. I wasn’t surprised by the regret. Long before I was in trouble, I had the same regret. I just kept trying to ignore it.

  The day I told my dad I was leaving, it was like a weight had lifted off me. I felt unchained from something I was literally born into. For years I didn’t even realize there was an option. Nobody ever gave me a choice. And I didn’t realize until I was older what “second child” really meant. It seemed like a curse.

  Not always. I still had memories of chasing the wind through the Atlantic waves. Building sand castles. Climbing the rocks on the small cliffs. I couldn’t have known then how prophetic my words would be. I was eight, and the ocean’s waves were being stirred by a coming hurricane. Jake and I were building forts out of sand, trying to beat the storm that was coming. I hollered over the wind, “I’m going to build mine bigger and better than yours!” He just smiled, like he was happy for my effort but knew it wasn’t possible.

  Those words echoed in my mind as if I’d said them moments ago. I sat down on a lonely bench in the park, feeling the hatred of recent days still burning deep in my bones. I remembered the day Jake chased me down after I told Dad I was leaving.

  I was young. Too young to articulate what I wanted. What it meant to me. I’d told him to watch his clients, but it’s not what I meant. I’d drawn a line in the sand when I should’ve just walked away and proven myself with my actions.

  But Jake always did have a mouth on him, especially when it came to defending his family. You’d rather cross paths with the devil than Jake Carraday.

  I pulled the phone out of my pocket. I wanted to hear her voice. But I knew she wanted nothing less, so I slid it back into my pocket and sat.

  20

  FAITH

  THEY’D BOUGHT A HOUSE a few years ago, a big step up from the tiny rental they’d started in. Olivia was married and pregnant at twenty, like most girls from around here. The wedding was small. I was the maid of honor.

  It took only five minutes to get to her house. It was brick, modest but pretty. A beautiful flower garden framed the porch, and wooden wind chimes hung near the front door. A stone frog was perched in the mums. The grass blades looked soft, deep green, perfect for running barefoot in. I hopped out of the truck and threw off my shoes, walking through the grass as if it were sand on the beach. Oh, that felt good. Was that fescue?

  Suddenly the screen door flew open and out came Nell in a beautiful blue dress, way fancier than I’d expect for just a dinner. “Hi!” she said as she ran up.

  “Hi there.”

  She leaned into me. “I’m going to call you Aunt anyway.”

  Didn’t know what that meant, but I smiled. “You can call me anything you’d like.”

  “Where are your shoes?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Back in the truck. Don’t you go barefoot around here?”

  “’Course. All the time. But I liked your shoes. They had jewels on them.”

  “They’re my favorite,” I told her with a wink.

  “Maybe sometime you can spend the night with me. I got two sleeping bags.”

  “You do? I’d love that.”

  “Do you like princess movies?”

  “Definitely.”

  Nell grinned. “You’re my new favorite toy.”

  I laughed. “And I don’t even need batteries!”

  Dad walked up, smiling as he ruffled Nell’s hair. “Hey, kiddo.”

  The door opened again and Hardy came out. He had a beard now and was a bit gray around the temples. His kind eyes were unchanged. “My goodness! Faith, welcome. I’m so glad you’re home.” He greeted me with a warm hug.

  “Hi, Hardy.”

  “Olivia’s in the kitchen, fixing dinner like we’re feeding an army.”

  “Your house looks so beautiful.”

  “Aw, thanks. It was quite a fixer-upper when we first got it. I’m a fan of mustard on my hot dogs but not on the walls and carpet. At any rate, come on in.”

  Nell took my hand and we walked in. Behind me Hardy and Dad got caught up in some conversation about tractors.

  Inside, I could smell the comfort of the home-cooked meal. Olivia turned, apron on, wiping her hands with a dishrag. “Hi there!” Her voice chirped with politeness but not yet with kindness. Still, she smiled and beckoned me closer. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to do this, Liv.”

  “Nonsense. Anyway, there’s no cake. Sorry about that.”

  “Cake? Gosh, no worries. I don’t eat cake much.”

  Dad trailed in behind me. “Hey, Liv.”

  “No cake, Dad.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. We had a mishap with the eggs.”

  I glanced at Dad, surprised to see genuine disappointment on his face. Maybe I had underrated the power of cake. “Your table looks beautiful.” It was decorated with a pumpkin and some fake fall leaves, with two orange candles in the center.

  Someone tugged on my shirt. I looked down to find Victoria staring up at me. “I’m going to be a Ninja Turtle for Halloween.”

  Olivia laughed. “That’s my tomboy right there. Climbs trees. Has sword fights. Would di
e before she wore a tiara.”

  “You sound tough,” I said to her.

  “I can lift a bowling ball.”

  “Wow. That is tough.”

  “Dinner’s served,” Olivia called.

  “Not eating on the TV trays?” Dad asked as he walked into the dining room. Again, he was kind of pouting like a kid.

  “Dad . . . ,” Olivia said in a chiding sort of way. “We have a special guest with us. She deserves more than a TV tray.”

  The word guest stung, but I figured Olivia already knew that.

  We sat down and Dad said grace. When was the last time I’d prayed? At least this kind of prayer. Yeah, I’d thrown up some desperate prayers lately, but nothing calm. Nothing meaningful.

  I looked up after the “Amen” to find Olivia watching me. She glanced away as she passed the potatoes.

  “Been meaning to ask you when you decided to grow your hair out so long,” Olivia said.

  I tucked my hair behind my ears.

  “Saw in the tabloids at the grocer that a bunch of celebrity types were wearing it the same way. Guess that’s the thing.” She handed me the radishes. “You always looked better with it shorter, I think. Better for your face.”

  “Looks real nice, Faith,” Hardy said.

  That created a perfectly awkward moment, saved only by Nell, who said, “I think you look like a princess.”

  Victoria piped in, “If she’s got muscles, she could be a pro wrestler.”

  Nell glared at her. “She doesn’t look like a wrestler, Vic.”

  “I’m just sayin’, she could be one if she wants.”

  “Girls,” Olivia said.

  “Okay,” Victoria said, not skipping a beat, “maybe not a wrestler. I know! A rock star!”

  I smiled at her. “Not in this lifetime.” But I was kind of dying. I didn’t want to be the topic of conversation.

  Luckily Dad bailed me out. “Hardy, I heard you guys got in a little hunting yesterday.”

  “Got a five-point buck.”

  “Did you really?” Dad set down his fork. “Whereabouts?”

  “Down in the runs—about a quarter mile from Jeffrey’s crossroads.”

  “They’re running down there this year?”

  Hardy nodded, and I enjoyed my meal and the conversation. When I was a kid, I hated all the talk about hunting. But now it soothed me, like gentle thunder rolling across the plains.

  Olivia sliced her meat, but her eyes looked sharper than the knife. “Hardy tried a new marinade. Like it?” She left my gaze and glanced around the table, I guess so she wouldn’t look inappropriate.

  But I was sure she wanted to see my expression when I realized I was eating deer meat.

  “Tender,” Dad said.

  “I tried to put in a little more lemon juice this time . . . added a teaspoon.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I nodded my agreement but pushed the meat to the side. Wasn’t a big meat eater anyway. And Olivia knew Bambi was my favorite movie. Man, she was stooping low.

  “So where’s Luke?”

  Or maybe lower. I measured my response. “He’s in New York.”

  “Has he ever been down here? I realize he hasn’t been to Columbus County, but I meant North Carolina in general.”

  “No. Never been.” It was getting harder to stay measured. I kept my knife in my hand even though I was just eating the mashed potatoes now.

  “To each his own.” Olivia shrugged.

  I set down my utensils and stared at her.

  “No insult intended,” she said, slicing her way through her own bull. “I mean, it’d be great if Luke visited. I just think family’s important, that’s all.”

  “And I don’t?”

  Olivia looked at me. Her expression said everything. This is my turf. You ran away. I wish you’d never returned. She sat straighter, her eyebrows raised like she was lecturing a child. “I don’t know, Faith. I guess actions speak louder than words in my book.”

  I glanced at Dad. He looked as wounded as the deer we were eating.

  “Funny how family can be a pain and you just think, Why bother? Then you get fed up with your snotty Yankee husband, and here you are.”

  “That’s enough, Olivia.” Dad threw his napkin on the table.

  Now Olivia looked wounded. Her eyes swelled with held-back tears. “She hasn’t been home in what, ten years?”

  “Now listen to me. You are sisters. We’re gonna sit here and have dinner. And tomorrow we’re gonna go to church together. And that’s it.” Dad picked up his napkin, folded it, and continued eating. Hardy did the same. The girls looked like they’d never seen anything like this before.

  “Ole number nine won Richmond again.” Hardy had put a gentle hand on Olivia’s shoulder. She shrugged it off.

  “Saw that, Hardy. I’ll tell you, that’s the best team in racing.”

  “It’s not the driver. It’s the car.”

  “You still gotta get in there and press the gas, though.”

  The two men went on to talk. Olivia stared at her plate, cutting food she never intended to eat. I did the same. We were as far apart as two people could be. Except for maybe Luke and me. But then again, Luke didn’t hate me.

  21

  CATHERINE

  “SHE’S BACK!”

  I felt air fill my lungs. I heard a harsh wheeze near me.

  “I got her. Get there, Angie!” His face bent close to mine. “I’m right here. Stay with me.”

  “She’s conscious?” A woman’s voice.

  “Just drive,” he said. He raised a bloody glove to his forehead, wiped some sweat droplets clinging to his skin.

  Music suddenly filled my ears, but I realized it came from a memory. It was the band playing at homecoming. I could almost feel the taffeta in my fingers as I remembered that day. I’d never felt prettier in my life. My dad had sprung for me to get my hair professionally done, and they did it up like a princess. Curls and beautiful, sparkly bobby pins.

  We were all lined up on the football field. I was shivering in the November air as I tried to look poised. The stands were crowded, people huddled in twos and threes under blankets. I’d sung the national anthem earlier—the biggest thrill I’d ever had. I got a standing ovation!

  Then, there he was. I knew him. Everybody did. He was the quarterback for our football team, and as handsome and tall as you could imagine. We ran in different circles, but in our community everybody knew everybody.

  The band hit its cue . . . I can’t even remember exactly what they were playing . . . but we walked across the field, met halfway, and I locked my arm around his. He grinned at me as I did, and I felt my whole body tingle. I sure didn’t want to show it, though. I smiled at him and then focused on the walk we had together, and his biceps, as they announced our names.

  I held my shoulders back, my head up high, and hoped I’d be picked for homecoming queen because that would mean I’d get to kiss Cal Barnett.

  I was maybe holding on a little too tight as we took our place, watching the other homecoming candidates come down the field. He patted my hand and whispered, “It’ll be all right.”

  And then it’s kind of a blur. They called our names and I took his lead. We walked forward, the two of us, and stood under this metal archway that had been decorated with streamers and balloons.

  Everyone was cheering so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. But he stared at me like we were the only two people in the universe. He leaned in and I closed my eyes because I’d never kissed a boy before. But I didn’t want it to look that way. I’d been practicing in my bedroom—me and my mirror.

  And then I felt his lips. On my cheek? I opened my eyes and he pulled back. He’d kissed me on the cheek? The roar of the crowd died down a little bit because people expected a good kissing show, I guess. I looked into his eyes and they sparkled, and I realized he’d given me a kind of gift that you just can’t buy . . . respect. He respected me enough to not make a show of it. We held the gaze
for a moment, and then he turned and waved, and the crowd went crazy. I followed his lead, clinging tightly to him.

  And from that day forward, I never let go.

  “Don’t let go!” His frantic voice jolted me. I didn’t understand why he sounded so scared. I was alive, wasn’t I? I could remember things. Why was he yelling at me?

  I imagined one of my daughters with this good-looking kid. I had to see them get married. I had to. Olivia was dating a good kid named Hardy, and it was looking to get serious. Calvin really liked him, said he was a man of character. But Faith, she had a more fragile heart, and I knew it was going to have to be someone who understood that.

  Waves of pain took my breath away. My body felt like it was exploding from the inside out. I clenched my teeth. I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t. But I was certain people didn’t live through this kind of pain. I thought my body was supposed to go into shock. And then maybe it did because I saw Cal’s face, smiling at mine, even though I knew he wasn’t there with me.

  22

  FAITH

  COLUMBUS COUNTY COMMUNITY CHURCH had been standing since 1872. All the original pews were in their places, and firmly planted in each pew sat the descendants of those who’d built it. If you were in the choir, you still sat with the congregation; otherwise the attendance would look awfully sparse. According to Dad, the choir didn’t even sing every Sunday anymore. I walked in with Dad and took a deep breath as I smelled the pine.

  Dad sat us in the fifth row on the right side, the same place he’d been sitting since I was born. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer were next to us. Boy, they’d aged. Mrs. Fischer had a cane, and both of them wore glasses now. They didn’t seem to recognize me. I smiled, but maybe they couldn’t see well.

  I noticed Olivia behind us on the left side, with her family. The church still seemed to struggle with membership, like always. I remember my parents being some of the youngest members, and Olivia and I being two of only a handful of children.

  I didn’t attend church, not once, while I was in New York. Life was busy. Sundays were for catching up on rest or anything else that you didn’t get done during a week that more times than not was just a blur. But I often noticed the gorgeous cathedrals that marked some of the busiest corners in Manhattan. I loved stained glass. It reminded me of this church’s. I sat quietly next to Dad, admiring the filtered light that glowed through the glass like the air had been watercolored.