by Rebeca Seitz
“I know, honey, but you should know by now that what we plan isn’t always—shoot, is rarely ever what happens in reality.”
“Are you telling me to pursue a relationship with Clay Kelner?”
“No. You do whatever you think is right about that. It’s your life, your choice. But I’m telling you not to dismiss the idea because of the boy he was ten years ago.”
“I’m dismissing the idea because, as you just pointed out, he’s here. In Stars Hill. And my life is eight hundred miles south of here. I have a career at a firm that I like and I’m being promoted in. I could be a partner in a few years.”
Daddy grinned. “There you go again, planning things.”
“What’s so wrong with planning things? Isn’t that what you and Momma taught us to do? How many times did you tell us to chase after our dreams, think big, don’t let our past dictate our future, and all that?”
“You’re right. We did tell you those things. But there’s a balance, Tandy, a flexibility that you need to factor in. Dream big. Make a plan for achieving your dream. But if something comes up that makes you want to alter your dream or reach it in a different way, don’t dismiss it just because it isn’t in the original plan.” He took a bite of chili and chewed.
She scooped chili and considered his words. “And you think I should reconsider things because of Clay?”
His spoon clinked the side of the bowl as he set it down. “I don’t know, Tandy. Tell me this, why do you live in Orlando?”
“Because I work there, Daddy. And you know why else.”
“Tell me.”
“Why are we getting into this?” She stood and snatched up her bowl.
“Because we should have a long time ago, and I’m a little late to the party.”
“I needed to go and confront what happened to me.” Jerking up the faucet, Tandy ignored the spray of water bouncing out of the bowl and onto her shirt. She grabbed the dishrag and scrubbed the dish.
“Why?”
“You know why. You were there when Momma said it.”
“I was there when your momma said a lot of things, Tandy.”
“Then you’ll remember she said it was important that I not let fear make my decisions for me.” She turned the water off and put the bowl in the drying rack. “So I don’t. I live in the very city that took my childhood. No, I don’t live there; I succeed there.” Pulling a red gingham towel off its rack, she dried her hands.
“And this is your purpose?” Daddy continued eating, his back to her.
“Excuse me?”
“This is the reason God created you?”
“Well, it’s a whole lot better than believing he created me to live on the streets, be adopted by loving parents, and lose one to cancer before I even went to college.” She froze. What?
Daddy had stilled. He turned in his chair and met her eyes. “Tandy, honey, I can’t pretend to understand why God let your momma die when and how she did. But I’m also not going to pretend this life you have in Orlando is all he or I want for you.”
“What is so wrong with my life? I have a successful—”
“I know, I know.” Daddy held up his big, calloused hands. “You’re an attorney with an office in a firm other attorneys would give their left arm for. But where’s the love in your life, Tandy? The faith? The things that matter?”
I couldn’t just go lay on the beach for two weeks. No, I had to come here. “I need to go get a shower and get ready,” she said. “I’ll see you at Heartland.”
She left the kitchen, back as straight as the line from Daddy to heaven and steps as firm as his faith. When she entered her bedroom, the painted dresser mocked her with the love Daddy said was missing from her life.
She had plenty of love. It was just wrapped around a memory that blocked a dream she couldn’t chase.
Eleven
Girl, what are you doing?” Kendra stood in the hallway, hand on hip, eyes raking up and down Tandy’s body.
“What?”
“Are you trying to make every man in this town want you? Or just upstage me?”
Tandy glanced down at her outfit. “In this? It’s not a big deal.”
“Says the woman who has obviously forgotten that the number of available men in this town hovers around the temperature of Buffalo in winter.” Kendra looped her arm through Tandy’s and walked them toward the front door. “And here you are strutting all over the place in those boots and tan legs. Good thing I carry my tan year-round, or I’d be in trouble tonight.”
Their laughter accompanied them into the cool night. “We taking yours or mine?” Kendra eyed Tandy’s car. “Because if I have a vote, I’ll take a Beamer any day.”
“Mine it is.” They settled into the gray leather seats, and Tandy started the engine. Gretchen Wilson’s voice poured from the speakers. “I’m here for the party …”
“Sing it, girl!” Kendra’s laughter rang out, and off they went.
Fifteen minutes later they parked in the white gravel lot beside a steel building. A white metal sign with rust on the corners hung by chains above a door. “Heartland Dance” it read in looping red letters. Chevy, Ford, and Dodge pickup trucks crowded the lot with an occasional Toyota here and there. With the exception of her Beamer, not one car could be seen—luxury or otherwise.
“What is this, a truck convention?”
Kendra laughed and the wind caught her long spiral hair. “You’ve been gone so long, you’re forgetting your roots. Come on!” They linked arms again and crossed the gravel lot, weaving in between row after row of pickups.
Tandy wondered if this was such a good idea. Everybody in there had probably spent the past two days talking about her return. They’d dissected her relationship with Clay and retold the story of him leaving her to join the military. She stopped in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
“I may have changed my mind.”
“What?” Kendra ducked her head to catch Tandy’s gaze. “Why?”
“I’m tired. I, uh, don’t feel much like dancing.”
Kendra stood in front of her and put both hands on her hips. “Tandy Sinclair, what are you running from?”
Tandy looked up. “I’m not running. I just don’t feel like walking in there right now.”
“Why not?”
“Kendra, come on! You know those people have spent the past two days talking about me. If I go in there, I’m just going to keep the rumor mill going.”
“So?”
“So? What do you mean, ‘so’?”
“I mean, who cares? So they talk about you. Big deal.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Tandy, I am the only black girl in an all-white family living in a tiny town in Tennessee. I’m an artist in my thirties and unmarried. I am as far from normal around here as it gets. Do you think these people don’t talk about me? Half of them think I’m a lesbian, and the others think I have a husband and child I’m hiding in Nashville. Oh, and there’s a 2 percent contingent that says I’ve been married several times secretly and sworn off men and women for good.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I am not.”
“Then why do you stay here?”
Kendra shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? The way I look at it, if they’re talking about me, then they’re not talking about somebody else. And who cares what they think of me anyway? It’s a small town with not a lot to do. I get that, and I’m happy to give them some entertainment. They’ve given me a great place to live.”
“You’re something else.” Tandy shook her head.
“And don’t you forget it.” Kendra took Tandy’s elbow and turned her back toward the entrance. “Now get yourself in there and have some fun before I tell folks I’m not married because I’m moving in with my sister in Orlando. You better believe they’d have some fun with that one.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s blackmail.”
“Sue me.” They reached the door, and Kendra put her hand on t
he knob. She paused and looked Tandy in the eye. “But I have to warn you, I have a sister who’s an attorney; and she’ll crucify you in court, she’s so good.”
Tandy grinned. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Ready for some fun?”
“You bet.”
They walked through the door, and Kendra veered off toward the left side of the room. Tandy followed, taking in the worn wooden floor, the thud of boots pounding it in rhythm, the sound of a steel guitar from the raised platform at the other end of the room. The noise was almost overwhelming but not quite. Small bulb lights were strung with no pattern here and there around the room. Metal folding chairs lined the walls and were grouped in occasional clusters. Everywhere she looked, Tandy saw smiling faces and tapping feet. A little of the tension left her shoulders. Maybe they weren’t all talking about her.
Kendra plopped down on one of the chairs and motioned for Tandy to do the same. “I think we’ll wait for a line dance,” Kendra yelled over the din.
Tandy nodded. Dancers packed the dance floor. Skirts flared as couples executed quick turns. Cowboy hats spun in shades of brown and black. Some of the older women wore the traditional country garb, their mates in bolos and string ties. Younger adults danced right alongside them in Seven jeans and Nine West boots.
“I can’t believe how many people are here!” she hollered at Kendra.
Kendra nodded. The song came to an end, and everybody clapped. Opening notes for “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” sounded, and a cheer went up from the crowd.
Kendra stood. “Oldie but a goodie!” She held out her hand. Tandy allowed herself to be pulled from the chair and onto the dance floor. People were lining up and, on cue, started lattice stepping to the right. Tandy fumbled a few times, but by the third set through remembered the steps and put some enthusiasm into it. Kendra nodded her encouragement.
Tandy twirled and stomped, loving the feel of a boot heel beneath her foot again. She never wore boots in Orlando. That was only for the horse farmers that lived way outside of town or over in Ocala. Or for teenagers growing up on a farm in a little Tennessee town. But these boots, molded from years of wear, felt like gloves for her feet; and, before she knew it, she was moving to the dance with barely any thought. She’d worried they wouldn’t fit. But they did. Perfectly. Her laughter rang out.
The band kicked into another line dance, and everybody adjusted their steps to the new song. Tandy didn’t know this one. It was new. But it wasn’t hard, and a few turns into it she had it down, mostly. Even when her feet stumbled and she bumped into someone, they laughed with her and exaggerated their own steps to show her how.
By the end of the second song, Tandy was loose, relaxed, and in need of some water. She tapped Kendra on the shoulder and pantomimed drinking. Kendra nodded and shooed her on, showing she wasn’t ready for a break yet. Tandy turned and made her way through the crowd, trying not to disrupt the rhythm of the participants.
She stepped off the floor with a sigh of relief and headed for the concession stand.
“Bottle of water, please,” she said to the kid behind the counter. Hormones were wreaking havoc on the poor guy’s face, and her heart went out to him. She smiled as she handed over her dollar for the water, and he grinned back, revealing a mouth so full of metal she wondered if he had a hard time making it through the detector at the airport. Clear braces must not have made their way to Stars Hill.
She unscrewed the cap and took a swig of water, grateful for the liquid relief as it flowed down her throat. Swallowing, she tilted her head left and right, stretching the muscles in her neck.
“Well, hey there,” a deep voice said from her side. She turned to see a tall man with scruffy brown hair and a very wide forehead. “Remember me?”
She squinted. The light in here wasn’t the greatest, and he didn’t look all that familiar. “I’m sorry. I don’t think so.”
“It’s Eric! Eric Hoffstetler!” He patted his chest with a big, beefy hand, and she remembered her old classmate.
“Eric! Hey!” She leaned over and hugged him. “How are you?”
“Good … can’t complain … heard you … town.”
She caught about every other word over the din of music and stomping boots but did her best to interpret. “Yeah, just visiting Daddy and the sisters for a few days. So how’s Kathy?”
His face clouded over. “She’s good. Living in Nashville now.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard.”
“It’s okay. Me and Ricky are making it fine while she’s finding herself or whatever.”
“Did you two have any more kids?”
“Nope, just Ricky.”
“He’s about ten now, right?”
Eric puffed up. “Eleven. Born just a few weeks after graduation, remember?”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“Oh, right. You were gone by then.”
He scuffed the toe of his boot on the dusty floor as they let the music and noise swirl around them.
“You want to dance?”
“Oh! No, I’m just doing the line dances. You know. I’m here with Kendra.”
She looked out on the floor as the song changed to a two-step. Kendra was nodding her head and smiling at a man in a black Stetson, white oxford, and black jeans. He put his arm around her waist, and they danced off.
“Looks like Kendra’s not sitting this one out,” Eric said. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
She’d come this far. Might as well go ahead and enjoy the place as much as possible. Besides, Eric Hofstettler and romance belonged together like chick peas and chocolate—never gonna be a good combination.
She nodded, set her bottle of water on a chair, and put her hand in his offered one. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He pulled her out on the dance floor, and she surprised herself by remembering how to two-step. They didn’t talk, just moved to the rhythm of the music. Tandy again felt herself relaxing and looked up at Eric.
He was smiling at her. “Guess you haven’t forgotten how we dance around here.”
She grinned. “It’s like riding a bike. You don’t remember how, but your body does if you try.”
He nodded, his hand on her waist guiding her around the other couples.
“You’re pretty good at this.”
“Ricky and I come pretty much every weekend.”
“He’s here?” She looked around the dimly lit room. “Which one is he?”
Eric gestured with the hand that held hers. “He’s the tallest one in that group of kids over there.”
She scanned the walls and spotted a miniature version of Eric. She turned to focus back on Eric and caught sight of Clay.
He stood behind the line of chairs, his green eyes heavy on her. A rushing sound went through her head, blocking out the pounding music and reminding her of waves crashing on the rocks. She froze, stumbling over her feet when Eric’s steps moved on without her.
“You okay?” He stopped and balanced her with his hands. Couples continued to twirl around them.
She swallowed, looked at Eric, and began to hear the guitar’s twang again. The rushing noise receded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Guess it’s not as easy as I thought.” She laughed and took his hand again.
“Just like riding a bike. You’ve gotta fall off sometimes. Trick is in the getting back up.”
“Good point.” Focusing on his eyes would keep her from looking anywhere else. “Before I fall off again, tell me what’s been going on around here.”
“Hmm. Cheerleaders won the state championship again.”
“Nice to know they’re still bringing home the trophy.” She congratulated herself for carrying on a mundane conversation while Clay’s gaze bore holes into the back of her head.
“Junior high’s getting a new gym.”
“I’ll bet Ricky is excited about that.”
“Yeah. He’s great with a basketball.” The pride in Eric’s voice made her smile and really pay attention.
>
“And football?”
“He’s not too bad on the gridiron, either. Still a little early to tell.”
“Like father, like son, I’ll bet.”
Ricky’s back straightened further under her hand, and his chest puffed up a bit. Her eye strayed across the dance floor and caught sight of Kendra being dipped by the tall guy with the black Stetson. Kendra looked her way and grinned as the band ended the song with flourish.
Tandy turned her attention back to Eric.
“Thanks for the dance, Tandy.” He let go of her hand and took a step back.
“You bet!” Awkwardness crept between them. “Guess I’ll go finish that water now.” Ducking her head, her boots clopped on the hardwood, carrying her to the corner of the room and the bliss of an isolated chair. She took a drink from the water bottle she’d snatched up along the way. Getting out of here was at the top of the priority list. It wouldn’t be long before Clay made his way over here, and then the entire town would have something new to talk about tomorrow morning over breakfast.
Her searching gaze darted around the room, looking for Kendra or Daddy. There! Daddy sat in the corner talking to some woman Tandy didn’t know. Which was impossible since Tandy knew everyone in this town, but that woman didn’t look like anybody Tandy knew. Her red—not auburn, red—hair was cut to about half an inch all over her head and stood up in little spikes. A round face of pale skin contributed to the shock of the red. Her posture, hand on hip with one foot forward and leaning in to hear whatever Daddy was saying, communicated an intimacy Tandy didn’t find appropriate right here in front of everybody. Even in front of nobody.
A white peasant blouse hung low on her shoulders, cinched in at the waist. Her blue skirt of crinkly fabric looked full, probably designed to swirl around her legs while she danced, and ended in brown leather boots that resembled Tandy’s except for some ornament Tandy couldn’t get a clear look at from here. As the woman tapped her toe, the light occasionally glinted off the piece of embellishment, whatever it was.
Tandy stared. Most likely Daddy had offered the woman an invitation to Grace Christian in a few days. That had to be why he appeared so interested in the words coming from her mouth. Tandy watched as the woman laid her small hand on Daddy’s arm and laughed. Daddy put his hand on top of hers and joined in the joy.