Silver White Winters

by Candice Sue Patterson

  Bridie and Netta scattered to opposite ends of the kitchen, heads down.

  Lane scowled at Bobby Joe, who shrugged. He’d been duped.

  Willie puffed on his pipe, filling the room with the smell of peppermint tobacco. “Well don’t stand there and act like you’ve never met the boy. Take his coat, Rae.”

  Her steps were cautious as if she were afraid her legs wouldn’t hold all ninety pounds of her. Rae swallowed, working her slender neck. This reunion would’ve been torture enough without an audience.

  “Hey, Lane. How’ya been?” Her cheeks turned a pleasant shade of pink.

  Since last week or since she left him? The little vixen refused to look him in the eyes. She should feel ashamed. “Great. You?”

  Rae pinched her lips together and nodded.

  Regardless of his anger, Lane hoped she was doing well. He’d preferred not to know how her life was going, bypassing music video channels, turning his back to the magazines in the check-out line. It was hard enough when her voice hit him from the radio at a restaurant or a grocery store. Or her face interrupted a football game with one of her makeup commercials. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened for a long while.

  The floor beneath him groaned as he shifted. The same spot it tattled on him that night he’d tried to sneak out after her parents came home early from playing cards at Willie’s. Caught.

  Lane ran a hand down his face. Yep, the past was gnashing away. By the end of the night, he’d be nothing but a pile of bones and teeth.

  “Let’s eat.” Bridie clapped her hands, and Lane had never been more thankful for food in his life.

  Raelynn licked her lips. “What about the others?”

  Bridie shooed her to the coat closet. “Everyone’s here.”

  They all gathered around the table—an offset concoction of a small wooden table and two card tables, one on each end—filled with enough food to put the first Thanksgiving to shame.

  Lane was coping with this visit until Bobby Joe asked everyone to join hands, and Willie backed away from Lane’s side, leaving Rae beside him.

  She stared at his left hand as if it were a viper. Then her head tilted and she frowned in confusion. Her soft hand slipped into his.

  Lane gulped. Every defense mechanism he possessed crashed to the floor in one giant heap. He wasn’t built to resist her.

  Bobby Joe’s deep voice filled the room. “Lord, we thank You for this food we’re about to receive. Please, bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. Though it felt like we spent thirty-six hours in hell, You were our light in the darkness. Thank You for Your grace and mercy in allowing us rescue with little bodily harm. Be with Billy and Jackie as they prepare to bring children into this world.” His words wavered with emotion. “And, please, grant comfort and stability to Miller Jackson’s and Clark Smith’s families in this time of sorrow. Amen.”

  Everyone gave a hearty “amen” in unison. Chair legs scraped against the wood floor as everyone settled in.

  To Lane’s relief, Raelynn sat at the far end of the table where any conversation or direct sight would be impossible. Good. Now he could enjoy his meal. With a deep breath, the tension in his chest eased, and Lane spread a napkin over his thigh. His stomach howled as he eyed the chicken and dumplings.

  Willie frowned at the chair across from Lane, curling a gnarled hand on the back. “Rae, dear, I’m needin’ to sit by Bart. We got business to discuss. ’Sides, you and Lane got lots of catchin’ up to do.”

  Lane’s hand, squeezed around a ladle full of mashed potatoes, stopped on its way to his plate. He looked at Willie. The devil himself couldn’t have conjured a more devious grin.

  Rae’s pink lips opened, but nothing came out.

  “Come on now. Respect your elders.” Willie’s boots thumped across the floor as he attempted to claim his chair. “You might be a starlit in Nashville, but I’m still your uncle, and I want this here seat.”

  Chin held high, Rae stood, tossed her napkin on the table, and glared at Willie, who looked mighty proud of himself. As she passed, she put a palm on Willie’s puffed out chest and whispered, “You’ll pay for this, old man.” She patted him gently and took the chair across from Lane.

  Bobby Joe cleared his throat. “Uh, Bridie, pass the broccoli, please.”

  The exchange of food brought a small sense of normalcy to the room.

  Lane kept his eyes on his plate, as did Rae. He knew that only because he’d allowed himself to peek now and then, just to see how she was handling that sliver of food on her plate.

  Netta elbowed his side. “What’cha plan to do with your vacation?”

  He’d hardly call it a vacation. It was mandatory eight weeks of paid time off to rest after the accident and to lose his mind with nothing to do.

  Lane swallowed his bite. “I’ve got things to catch up on at the house. More than anything, I plan to get to the bottom of this mine collapse business.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and noticed the way Rae picked at her food. “I’m investigating a theory on what might’ve caused it.”

  Silverware clinked against plates. The room got quiet.

  Bobby Joe raised a brow. “What’cha thinkin’, son?”

  Rae’s head sunk lower.

  “Mountaintop removal.”

  Rae’s head popped up. If she wasn’t careful she’d get whiplash.

  “Kessler started on the west end of the mountain three weeks ago. You know as well as I do how solid our walls were reinforced. I filed two safety violation reports since then. I swear, I thought it was an earthquake that first day Kessler started blasting.”

  “Who’s Kessler?” Rae asked.

  She’d know if she’d have stuck around. Anger simmered in his blood whenever he considered the mountain, and pretending that Rae wasn’t stirring something inside him wasn’t helping. Lane spoke to his plate. “Kessler Industries. They’ve bought out every coal company in southern West Virginia in the last ten years. Except ours.”

  “They’re a monopoly.” Bart banged his fist on the table, shifting silverware and ice in glasses.

  Netta patted his arm.

  Rae shoved her tiny portions from one side of her plate to the other. “What are they doing to the mountain?”

  A music award winner didn’t have time to watch the national news?

  “Boom!” Everyone jumped at Willie’s outburst. “They’re blowin’ it to smithereens.”

  Lane gave up and stared into Rae’s confused face. “It’s their way of removing coal from the mountain at much faster speeds. Problem is, it’s affecting our way of life.”

  Netta shook her head, her chin swaying with the motion. “It’s poisoning our water supply. Their way of recreating water flow off the mountain makes nearby towns flood every time it rains. And if the levy around their sludge pond breaks…mmm, mmm, mmm.” She finished with a fierce shake of her head.

  Bobby Joe poked his fork in Rae’s direction. “Don’t you worry, baby girl. We ain’t backin’ down.”

  With each passing day, Kessler applied a little more pressure to make Hudson Coal scream parley. Surrender was looking imminent.

  “That’s right,” Bridie said. “There’s a group proposing windmill energy as an alternative. Apparently, these mountains have the highest winds available in the U.S.”

  Rae wadded her napkin and tucked it under the edge of her plate as if she were finished. She’d only eaten two bites.

  “I saw the proposal on the Internet,” Drew said. “Someone did a great job engineering the project.”

  Bart shrugged. “All’s well until the wind stops blowin’.”

  Willie grabbed another biscuit. “Not to worry. If it does, we can use the gust flyin’ off all of Rae’s songs as they climb the charts.”

  “And if that doesn’t work, we could power ’em with all your hot air.” The sassy spark in Rae’s eyes, the one Lane hadn’t realized how much he’d missed until now, ignited the room.

  Lane chuckled. Boy, did he miss that fire—it
could either keep a man warm or scorch him to ashes.

  Bridie reached across Drew and squeezed Rae’s hand. “Actually, Rae’s takin’ a little break from her music. She’s decided to stay here through the holidays.”

  Lane’s biscuit turned to dust in his throat. He snatched his glass of water and downed it like he’d spent the last year in the desert. Somehow, he’d managed to avoid her all these years, but a visit that long would make life impossible. So much for closure. He put down his empty glass and continued to eat, wearing his best poker face.

  Bridie pointed to Rae’s plate. “Eat up. I made red velvet cake for dessert. Your favorite.”

  Rae turned an odd shade of green. She looked around the table then stabbed a hunk of broccoli with her fork and raised it to her mouth as if fearing it had been cooked in arsenic.

  Bridie tossed another biscuit on Rae’s plate. Rae put it back. “Jay has me auditioning for a couple of movie roles, so I’ve got to keep a slim figure.”

  The diva had returned.

  “Who’s Jay?” Netta asked.

  “My manager.” Rae sipped her water.

  Bobby Joe wiped his mouth and laid his napkin on his plate. “I heard your new song the other day.”

  “You call that a song, girl?” Willie belched. “There was enough electric guitar in it to shame a rock n’roll concert. What happened to that sweet mountain music you used to sing?”

  Bridie’s mouth fell open. “Willie!”

  Rae’s eyes watered.

  Lane’s chest tightened. Oh, no. Anything but tears.

  “No, it’s OK. He’s right.” Rae stared at her lap. “He’s absolutely right.”

  Willie had the decency to look sorry. “Now I didn’t mean the girl no harm.” He nodded to punctuate his point. “It’s just that her voice is as pretty as a bubblin’ brook after a summer rain. These new songs she’s been singin’ don’t do her justice. That’s all I was sayin’.”

  Rae sniffed and lifted her chin. “Thank you, Uncle Willie. You’re the only one who’ll speak the truth, and believe it or not, that means a lot to me.” She blinked several times. “But Jay feels that in today’s market this is the best strategy for now.”

  Lane leaned his back against the chair. It wasn’t like her to be someone’s puppet. “You need to drown your manager and start writing your own music again.” Did that just come out of his mouth?

  Wounded eyes met his for half a second, then Rae stared blankly at something behind him. “I can’t write anymore.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Why not?” He hadn’t meant to ask it out loud. Didn’t care to know the answer.

  Her lids fell to half-mast. “I just…can’t.”

  Lane didn’t know how many seconds passed as they stared at one another, speaking in silence. For a moment, he had his best friend back. The woman who held her own, yet needed him to protect her when life got ugly. Regret and heartache rolled through her stormy eyes like thunder. He couldn’t afford to give in to his desire to kick his chair back, take her in his arms, and kiss her until it all went away.

  “Dessert.” Bridie stood and picked up her plate. “Who wants cake?”

  Lane dropped his napkin on the table and stood. Forget closure. “I appreciate the meal, Bridie. Fine cookin’. However, I’m gonna pass on dessert and go on home. It’s been a long week. I’m sure you understand.”

  Bridie paled. “Of course. Can I send a piece with you?”

  And relive the last time he’d eaten cake here and kissed the drop of icing from Rae’s lips? “No thanks. ’Night, everyone.”

  Their replies hit his back as he walked out the door. He wouldn’t allow Rae into his heart again. The ending was the same. She had movies and fans waiting for her in Tinsel Town. He was just a humble mountain boy.

  It wasn’t until he’d driven down the hill and pulled onto the road that he shivered. He’d left his coat behind.

  5

  Gravel crunched beneath Raelynn’s shoes as she jogged down the road. Chilly morning air pushed through her yoga pants and fleece sweatshirt, but the friction of her muscles kept her warm. It might not be the caliber of her normal fitness routine, but she couldn’t beat the view of an orange sun as it crested the mountains and chased navy blue streaks from the sky.

  Eve Hollow—all two blocks of it—lay quiet at the bottom of the hill. Her steady breaths, pounding feet, and the morning trill of birds were the only sounds. Miners had left for work long ago, waking in darkness to spend their day in darkness, and during winter when the sun set early, they returned to their homes in darkness.

  Daddy had always told her and Mama that they were his sunshine, and that was all he needed.

  Raelynn smiled at the rising sun as the lyrics to “You Are My Sunshine” sung in Daddy’s deep, off-key voice played in her mind. It was the first song she’d learned to sing.

  Black powder peppered homes and vehicles. Coal dust. She passed a row of abandoned trailers, some with boarded up windows, others with busted glass. Mrs. Simmons, her fifth grade teacher, had managed to squeeze one more concrete garden gnome in her front yard since Raelynn’s last visit. A few more, and the woman would have an army.

  The folks here weren’t high society, but they were God-fearing, hard-working, kind-hearted people who did their best every day to survive and love their neighbors.

  She’d forgotten that. Even about those she loved, like her parents. Lane. They’d become strangers over the years—entirely her fault. Though she hadn’t felt that a life in these mountains was meant for her, there was a peacefulness in the treetops that ran soul-deep. And for a moment, she understood why some folks around here never wanted to leave.

  Rays of gold splashed on the road and made the thin frost glitter like diamonds. A melody began to play on the breeze. The tension in her body quelled. She stopped running and listened. This was it, the song from yesterday. Raelynn quieted her mind, losing herself in the notes. Adrenaline fevered her body, rising from her feet like a thermometer on a hot day. Any moment the lyrics would follow.

  Boom!

  Raelynn jumped and her eyelids sprang open. Birds fled the tree branches. The earth echoed the noise with a tremor. What was that? She scanned the area for shelter. Heart pounding in her ears, breaths labored, she noticed an atomic bomb-worthy cloud of smoke lifting from a distant mountain.

  Mountaintop removal.

  The sound effects shook the hollow.

  Raelynn put a hand to her mouth. Her peace vanished.

  Folks stepped onto their porches and stared at the black cloud, shaking their heads at the sky. A petite, gray-haired woman with a walker bowed her head in prayer.

  Raelynn’s beautiful morning song was ruined. She ran back to the house. When she entered, Daddy looked up at her from his recliner, holding a cup of coffee and the Bible.

  His smile warmed her through. “Mornin’, baby girl. I thought you were still sleeping.”

  Raelynn shook her head. She’d hardly slept at all. The expression on Lane’s face when he’d bolted out the door last night—a fierce mix of anger, fear, and vulnerability—had haunted her each time she closed her eyes. She’d witnessed the battle raging inside him, a fight between the Lane she’d left and the man he was today. She’d hurt him deeper than she allowed herself to believe. “Not tired.” Raelynn kicked off her shoes. “Thought I’d get an early start.”

  Daddy raised his coffee mug in one hand and his Bible with his other. “Best part of wakin’ up.” He winked.

  She’d missed his funny little sayings. Raelynn leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Where’s Mama?”

  Daddy swallowed a sip of coffee. “I told her to sleep in.”

  Mama, sleep late? Yeah, right. “Drew?”

  “Snoring like a wild boar.”

  “They both slept through that explosion?”

  Daddy shrugged.

  The aroma of fresh coffee beckoned from the kitchen.

  “Raelynn, can we talk a minute?” Daddy plun
ked his mug on the end table.

  Uh, oh. Daddy never used her full name unless she was in trouble, or he was about to slam her with bad news.

  “I’ll be right there.” She poured a cup of black coffee, tiptoed back to the living room, and then perched on the edge of the couch beside his chair.

  Daddy closed his Bible. “Lane left his coat behind last night.”

  All this fuss over a coat? “OK…”

  “I thought you could run it over to him. I’m sure he’ll be needin’ it.”

  Raelynn stared into her cup. Lane’s coats had kept her warm many times at football games, on starlit walks. He’d grown since high school, broader, thicker, more handsome, if that were possible. No doubt, that coat would swallow her now. Would she still fit perfectly against his side when he wrapped his arm around her? She’d love to find out, now that she knew he wasn’t married. “Why would I do that?”

  Daddy released a deep sigh. “’Cause you’ve let twelve years slip by without givin’ that boy an apology. Lane’s a good man, Rae. He deserves better than what you gave him.”

  “I know.” Tears rushed to her eyes and the end of her nose stung. If she could go back and do things differently, she would. At least, she thought she would. But she’d chosen to flee in the middle of the night, leaving only a note behind, because she knew if she’d said goodbye in person Lane would’ve begged her to stay, and she would have.

  “I owe you and Mama an apology, too. I’ve been a pitiful excuse for a daughter, and I’m sorry.”

  Daddy shook his head. “What’s done is done. Let me rejoice, kill the fatted calf. Or chicken in our case.” He grinned, revealing the small gap between his front teeth. “The important thing is that you’re home. Your Mama and I haven’t been there for you like we should’ve, but that’s gonna change.”

  Raelynn desperately needed change.

  Daddy patted her arm. “Lane’s coat is in the closet.”

  No bushes to beat here. Raelynn swallowed the dread in her throat. Lane would want his coat, but he wouldn’t want her on his doorstep.

  ~*~