“How many rules do you think there are?”
My eyebrows rose. “A bunch?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s religion. Not God.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
Luke cocked his head. “Is it?”
I crossed my arms. “You tell me. You’re the preacher.”
His eyes softened. “No, it’s not really the same thing. We do certain things and don’t do certain things out of love. It’s the same way a husband stays faithful to his wife. Maybe he knows he’s supposed to do it, but mostly he does it out of love. He wants to make her happy, to honor her and to cherish her. It is the same with God. I have a relationship with him. Like a father. I do the things I do because I love him.”
“Why?” I inspected the intricate carving of the edge of the table, not really wanting to look at him.
“Because of who he is and all he’s done for me. He picked me up when I was a mess. He cleaned me off and gave me a new life.”
I looked into his eyes. “Beauty from ashes?”
He smiled. “Yes! Exactly that.”
A knock sounded on the door and I jumped to my feet, grateful for the distraction. I opened the heavy oak door and found Kristin, here to rescue me from a deeper conversation with an unnecessarily handsome preacher.
“Good morning!” She beamed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Chipper as ever.
“Hey, Kristin.” I widened the door to let her in. “Luke brought doughnuts.”
“Awesome. I never turn down a doughnut.” She kept right on walking as she talked. “Hey, Luke. Thanks for the breakfast.”
I followed her into the dining room and returned to my original seat, deciding another doughnut wouldn’t actually kill me. I’d do enough physical labor to work it off soon enough anyway.
“Well, I talked to Mike at the auction house and he is very interested in seeing everything,” Kristin said before taking a bite of a lemon doughnut.
I snorted. “I bet he is.”
Kristin kept going, unfazed by my moodiness. Another reason I couldn’t help but like her. “He said items kept in an original location were worth even more. Besides the fact the piece is probably in excellent condition, since it would have suffered less damage from movement, buyers also really like to know the story behind an antique.”
It was always about the story.
The story. The thought knocked on my brain like Einstein’s eureka moment.
It really was always about the story. Ironwood’s story. Lydia’s story. My story. Why was I here, anyway? What drew me to this house? Not the walls or the furniture or all of Adela’s knickknacks. The story drew me. The ambiguity of my family and my heritage. The mystery of what happened to the people here. I kept coming back here because I needed to know the story.
Kristin was still talking. I tried to refocus my thoughts on her ramblings.
“And he said we could do it either way. Depending on what you wanted.” She looked at me expectantly.
I felt sheepish. “I’m sorry. What way?”
“Selling all the individual pieces separately or selling the whole place as a lot.”
The thought of selling all of Lydia’s things made my stomach tighten. So what if it was ridiculous? For once, I decided to indulge in my whim. “You know what, Kristin? Tell him thank you for everything, but I think I’m going to hold off on the auction.”
She and Luke exchanged glances. “Does that mean you don’t want to sell or you just don’t want to go the auction route? We can still list it traditionally, if that’s what you want.”
I let out a long breath. “I don’t know what I want to do. But, hey, I figure I don’t really have to have it all laid out right now. I don’t have a job to rush back to, so what’s the hurry? I can spend a little time here going through everything and getting the house fixed up. If that takes a few weeks, well, then, it just takes a few weeks.”
Kristin raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. I’m in no hurry if you’re not.”
I laughed. “Of course not. You’re from Mississippi. You people are never in a hurry for anything.”
“Now hold on,” Luke said. “I hurry every Sunday morning because I’m always running late to church.” He grinned. “I also hurry as fast as I can to get some of Dee’s apple pie.”
We all laughed, enjoying the lightness of the moment. It felt good to know I could take my time. I looked at the two people sharing Ironwood with me and felt a twinge of loneliness. What it would be like to have friends like these at home? People who went out of their way to help you out and didn’t expect anything in return but your friendship.
I pushed away from the table. “Well, it was nice to have breakfast with you two, but I’m a mess and I need a shower and a change of clothes. I think I’m going to leave the work to you this morning, Luke, and head to Dee’s.”
Kristin raised her eyebrows. “You stayed the night here?”
Luke answered for me. “Yeah. And she sleeps like a rock. I had to bang on the door for ten minutes this morning until she got up and let me in.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You said it was five.”
“Felt like ten.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” I looked back at Kristin, “Yes, I must have fallen asleep on the couch last night after going through some of the stuff in the house.”
Kristin’s eyes widened. “Find anything interesting?”
I picked up on the excitement in her voice and it bolstered my own. “I found a bunch of papers labeled DAR. I don’t know what that is, but there were a lot of folders of family history charts and genealogies.”
“DAR stands for Daughters of the American Revolution. Adela was a member and really into family history.”
“Well, she certainly had a lot of papers on it. I even found a genealogy chart that lists my father and back several generations.” I almost told them about finding Lydia on the papers, but that would mean I would have to tell them how I knew the name, which would lead to too many questions. Besides, the diary needed to be my secret for just awhile longer. I was savoring the story, letting it take me along with it. Lydia’s tale led me on a journey, and I couldn’t rush her.
I said my goodbyes and promised to check on Luke a little later and to make plans for another lunch with Kristin. Not for business this time, just as friends. I let myself enjoy the idea all the way back to Dee’s. When I walked in the front door, Dee stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips, blocking my way to the stairs.
“And where have you been, young lady? I was worried sick about you.”
I almost told her my whereabouts were none of her business. Our boarding agreement didn’t make her my mother and I wasn’t a child. I opened my mouth to let her have it, but she looked so much like a concerned, doting grandmother that I just didn’t have the heart. What was happening to me?
I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Dee. I thought Luke told you I decided to stay at Ironwood a little longer. I fell asleep and never made it back last night.”
She wagged her head. “I worried something happened to you. I almost went out looking.”
Part of me actually wondered why she hadn’t. I didn’t have to wonder long.
“So I called Luke about eleven last night and sent him out looking for you. He said he drove by the house and saw your car and a light on downstairs.”
“Wha…?” I stared at her incredulously. “If you knew where I was then why are you standing here at the door like an old mad hen?”
“’Cause I wanted you to know I was worried about you.” She pointed a finger at me. “Folks do care about you, you know.”
Dee had a way of finding a weakness and grinding on it. “Yes, Ma’am. I know.”
Her eyes twinkled and she pulled me into a hug. I’d been getting more of these lately than I was accustomed to. I felt my shoulders relax and I retuned the embrace. Dee patted my back. “You’re going to be just fine. Everything happens for a reason. You’ll see.”
>
I smiled at her and slipped up the staircase, eager for a shower and some time to my thoughts. All this talk about purpose had me thinking about what mine might be. Somehow, my purpose for taking a vacation had spun wildly out of my grasp, like struggling to maintain control of the steering wheel in the middle of a hurricane. For just a moment I contemplated what it’d be like to just let go and see where the winds took me. What could it hurt?
I almost let go. Almost. But then the logical side of me took over. Cars with no drivers ran into things. Cars in the middle of a storm had horrible, dramatic wrecks. If I let go of what little control I had, I would go spiraling into all kinds of unknown tragedy.
A long shower left me feeling clean, refreshed and equipped to face the day. I felt more firmly grounded in reality, for however long that might last.
I looked at the face in the mirror. Who was she, really? Where was she going? What was she doing with the rest of her life? Did it even matter? Would anything she did make a difference to anyone?
I took my time getting dressed and went downstairs looking for Dee. I had a project in mind. I might not be able to do anything profound, but I could bring one small pleasure to someone’s day. I looked for her until I remembered that it was a work day. No matter. I could find my way around the kitchen.
I gathered the ingredients to make a few ham sandwiches and various other items for a picnic lunch. I’d hoped for a basket, something like what Yogi coveted, but found nothing. I opted for a plastic grocery sack I found in the pantry. Not as picturesque, but it got the job done. I grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge and jumped back in my car.
Inside the house, I found Luke under the kitchen sink singing softly to himself. I stood in the doorway for a moment, enjoying the smooth sound of his voice. Before I let myself enjoy it too much, I eased over and nudged the bottom of his foot with the toe of my shoe.
He jumped, a sickening thud vibrating the framing under the bottom of the sink.
“Owww!”
I expected a cuss word. Even from the preacher. Men said things like that when they were startled or angry. Definitely a good way to bring out what’s under the surface shine. Not that I hurt Luke on purpose.
I leaned down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hit your head.”
“But you did mean to frighten the socks off me?” He sat up, rubbing the sore spot.
I tried not to giggle but failed. “Well, yeah. I guess I did. But I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, honest.”
Luke groaned.
I held up my offering. It looked pitiful sagging in the plastic sack. Not at all the romantic gesture I was going for. I stopped myself. Friendly gesture. I was going for a friendly gesture. “I brought lunch….” I dangled it out before him in all its pathetic glory.
Luke rubbed his chin. “Well, I might forgive you, then. Maybe. Depends on what you packed.”
I tossed the sack at him. “See for yourself.”
He caught it effortlessly, grinning at me. He rummaged through the bag. “Hmmm…. looks like sandwiches, chips and is this…” he held up the plastic baggie, “a bag of pickles?”
“Yep.”
“I love pickles. Well done, Burns.”
I started toward the dining room when Luke stopped me. “Hold on. I found something out back I think you’ll like, and it would make a great spot for a picnic. Whatcha think?”
“Sure. I’m game.”
What I’d meant was that I was game for eating out in the rose garden or something like that. Luke, apparently, had a much different idea. He left me waiting in the kitchen for a few moments and returned with a ragged looking backpack.
We stepped out on the back porch and Luke checked his watch, slinging the pack over one shoulder. “It’s still early. You mind taking a walk? We can look around the place a bit and I can show you that spot I found. Shouldn’t take us too long to get there.”
I had nowhere else to be, so what could it hurt? “Sounds good. I’ve wanted to see the rest of the property anyway. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
We walked through the rose garden and the small fenced-in yard behind it. At the back of the once well-manicured lawn, a gate stood sentinel to the outer reaches of the estate. Through the narrow portcullis the land opened into sections of pasture and forest.
I frowned. “I don’t see anything back here.”
Luke waved an arm. “Just walk with me.” He made it a few steps down the path. When he didn’t look back, I huffed, but followed after him.
To our left I could see the barn. I’d briefly poked my head in there earlier, but found little more than cobwebs and thick layers of dust. I pointed to it. “Do you know if that is the original barn?”
“I don’t think so. I think there was a hay fire there sometime in the sixties, and it burned to the ground. They contained the fire, so nothing else was damaged, and rebuilt on the same spot.”
“You know a lot about this place, don’t you?”
We walked along a gravel path, the heat of the sun bearing down on my head. Sweat gathered in beads along my collarbone and started to slide into crevices it had no business visiting. Luke looked out over the open land and continued his tour, ignoring my question.
“These were all cotton fields until the fifties. Then they started growing corn. They did that until the nineties, I think.”
I looked at the tall grass swaying in the slight breeze. It didn’t look like they grew anything anymore. “What about now?”
“Adela was the only one here, and she didn’t want to keep up with the farming. She let a local struggling family cut hay out of these pastures for several years.”
I slid my eyes across his profile. Something in his voice gave him away. I decided to push him a little further. “Your family, perhaps?”
He glanced at me. “Yeah. She said she did it because she needed someone to cut the grass, but we all knew she did it to help my dad stay on his feet.”
“Sounds like she was a great lady. I wish I could have met her.”
Luke smiled and nudged me. “You remind me a lot of her.”
“Really?”
He grinned. “Yeah. You’re both stubborn, set in your ways, and determined.”
“Hey!” I pushed his arm, and he stumbled off the gravel into the tall grass, laughing.
“Sorry!” His mouth said the word, but his tone undermined any sincerity it might have held. He pointed a finger at me, his eyes still dancing. “But it’s true.”
I couldn’t deny those attributes clung to me like a soggy sweater, but still. “Yeah, yeah. All right.”
His face turned serious. “Adela was a strong woman, but kind. She had a good heart, even if she didn’t let many people see it.” He looked at me a moment. “You remind me of her in that way, too.”
The softness in his voice tugged at me. I wiped my hands on my jeans. “So…did you spend a lot of time here when you were a kid?”
He cleared his throat, the moment gone. “I came here in the summers with my dad to help cut hay. Adela let me escape to the house for tea or lemonade and a snack, and we would sit on the back porch while she told me stories about the plantation.” He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “She really loved it here. She grew up on this land, and I don’t think she ever wanted to be anywhere else.”
We turned back to the path and walked in silence for several minutes, and the open land gradually gave way to the encroaching woodlands.
“Is that why you like it here?” I asked, my thoughts having not yet left the previous conversation. “Why you don’t want me to sell it?”
We started climbing a small hill. “I never said I didn’t want you to sell it,” he said.
It annoyed me to no end my breathing labored like an overheated dog while Luke didn’t seem fazed. I sighed. “You didn’t have to. I could tell it from that first night at Dee’s.”
He cut his gaze to me briefly. “Well, I just know how much this place meant to her.
And I know it’s been in her family from the very beginning. That’s a long time. A lot of history. I guess the romantic part of me just hates to see that end.”
My heart agreed with him, but what could I do? “You know, I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t know her or even know this place existed.” I clenched my teeth and waited for a reply. When he failed to give one, compulsion to explain myself allowed more unprocessed words to tumble from my mouth. “Maybe if I’d grown up here, if I’d known Adela, then things would be different. But I don’t belong here.” My voice cracked on the last word and I hated myself for my weakness.
Luke stopped and grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him. “Why not?”
I bit my lip, pondering my answer. It occurred to me I had a million excuses. I didn’t grow up here, I lived in New Jersey, and I rented an apartment there. I chose to say nothing, since I knew every reason I could give would be lame.
Luke gently tilted my chin, his face only inches from mine. “Why not, Emily?” he prodded, his words tearing away at what was left of my resolve. “You said you grew up never knowing your family, yet here God has given you their legacy.”
My gaze wandered to his mouth. The tenor of his voice spread over me like a warm breeze, stirring a longing I had taught myself to ignore. The breath lodged in my chest, knowing if it rushed free I might be left with the void that would surely descend when he withdrew. I could only stare into the depths of his eyes. They danced with light. “Tell me,” he said on a sigh. “Tell me why you think you don’t belong here when your family has been in this very place for more than a century?”
I couldn’t answer him. A single tear slid down my cheek. Did this man have any idea what he was doing to me? Did he know he was shattering my fragile determination to sell, take the money and run?
He stared at me for a long time, and the breath that had stuck inside me now came and went in rapid succession. “Emily, my opinion might not matter to you at all. But I think you never belonged in New Jersey. You belong here, at Ironwood. No matter what your legal name is, you are a Harper and this is your home.”
I broke from his grasp. I couldn’t take it. I wanted so much to believe everything he said. I wanted it to be true, but it was a fairytale and fairytales didn’t happen to girls like me. If he knew anything about me he’d be glad to see me go. Let Ironwood start a new era with someone more deserving. I whirled away, and the void I knew would come settled on me. I had to walk away. Luke didn’t say anything more and I felt the space between us widen.
Heir of Hope: Return to Ironwood Plantation (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 2) Page 15