In the Fields

  “Honey, you is getting to be every bit as good a cook as me.” Ruby shakes her head and tries to tone down the smile that takes over her face every time I love on her.

  I WAKE UP to little girl kisses on my eyelids. Gracie knows how to climb out of her crib already, and she dives into bed with me every morning. We cuddle for a while and then we go to the bathroom. I set her up on the toilet and she tinkles. She’s been doing this since she was nine months old. Nellie always said you just have to learn a child’s schedule. Take them every half hour when starting to potty train, until you learn when they go. She was right. It works like clockwork—either that or my little girl is just brilliant. However, Nellie had her brothers and sisters potty trained long before nine months, so I think she might have been onto something.

  Gracie is an early talker, too, like I was. I never believed my parents about all the things I was supposedly saying before I was even a year old, but now I’ve seen it’s possible.

  “Happy Birthday to you,” I sing as I run Gracie’s bath water. She hums along with me and happily splashes around in the bubbles.

  We hear Brenda before we see her. She comes in the bedroom, saying, “Where’s the birthday girl?”

  “We’re in the bathroom,” I yell.

  “Baffwoom,” Gracie echoes. “Buffday, Mama, buffday.”

  She wants me to keep singing, so I do. I’ve been singing her birthday song for a week. She’s still not tired of it.

  “There she is! I hear the birthday girl.” Brenda comes into the bathroom holding so many balloons, we can’t see her face.

  Gracie lets out a huge gasp and we get tickled at her. “Boooon,” she shrieks.

  “Oh, that was worth it.” Brenda laughs. “You like these ‘boons’?”

  “Ont boon!” Gracie tries to get out of the bath as fast as her chubby little legs will take her.

  “Slow down, Gracie. They’re not going anywhere!” I help her out of the bath and dry her off.

  Brenda hands her the balloons while she’s still naked and I give Brenda a mock glare.

  “What?”

  “I’ll never get her dressed now!”

  “Oh, oops.”

  Sure enough, Gracie takes off flying with the balloons, streaking through the house like a banshee. There’s lots of squealing and giggling, and then a single pop.

  Everyone freezes.

  And then the wail comes.

  “Booooooon,” she cries.

  “Come on, little nekkid jaybird, let’s get you dressed.” I pick her up, balloons and all. We navigate back to the bedroom, careful not to pop another one, and get the birthday girl ready for her big day.

  THE BOONS, THE cake and the wrapping paper are Gracie’s favorite gifts of the day. Among other things, Papa’s big gift to her is a tricycle, which looks huge next to her. She crawls up on it and then wants help getting off when it moves. It’s gonna give me a heart attack, I just know it. Ruby made her some pretty little dresses. How she found the time to do it without me knowing, I’ll never know. I save her present from me for last and give it to her right before she goes to bed. Her sweet face lights up when she sees it.

  It’s a baby doll, one that has a soft body and eyes that open and shut. She plays with the eyes for a long time in her crib. Open, shut, open, shut.

  When I lean over to kiss her goodnight, she wraps her arms tight around my neck and squeezes. I give her a butterfly kiss by her eyelashes, an Eskimo kiss by her nose, a monkey kiss with our cheeks, a giraffe kiss with our necks, and a Mama kiss on the lips.

  And then I have to do the whole thing with the baby doll.

  WHEN I GO back into the kitchen to start cleaning up, Ruby and Brenda stop in mid-chatter. They give me a guilty look and then try to start up a conversation that was obviously not what they were talking about before I entered the room.

  “What are you two sayin’?” I call them out. “You both look like you done swallowed a canary whole.”

  Brenda is the first to confess. “I was just telling Ruby that Charlie has a friend from Elizabethtown who has been coming over some weekends. He’s cute, Caroline! Really cute.”

  She looks at Ruby again and lets out a nervous laugh. Ruby gives her an encouraging nod.

  “I think you should go out with him,” Brenda says super fast.

  I groan and start shaking my head while she continues to rattle off facts about him. Ever since she started dated Charlie, she thinks I have to be with someone too.

  “How long have you been doin’ inventory on this guy, Bren? Doesn’t it bother Charlie that his girlfriend is so knowledgable about his friend?”

  She grins wider. “Charlie’s the one who told me all of this. He thinks Robert would like you so much and wants you to give him a try.”

  “Robert, huh. Well, does Robert know I have a little girl?”

  I already know the answer. It’ll be the same answer she gives me every time she tries to talk me into going out with someone.

  “Not yet, Caroline. But…”

  “But what? Why would I waste someone’s time when I already know they won’t be able to handle me already having a little girl?”

  We’ve gone round and round about this and Brenda usually backs off, but this time she does a little stomp with her foot and turns pink.

  “Once someone gets to know you, they won’t care! You’re seventeen, Caroline. It’s time for you to have some fun.”

  “Did you just stomp your foot at me?” I grin and then get riled up. “My life is never gonna be the typical, Brenda. I gave up wishing for that a long time ago. And—I’m not gonna like anyone anyway. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I fell in love already. I had someone who was everything I wanted. I didn’t get to keep him. And I’ll never get over him.”

  Brenda and Ruby share another look, and I brace myself for what else they’ve discussed without me.

  “You need to tell him, Caroline.”

  I move to the chair and sit down, the wind knocked out of me. My eyes blur and I grip the edges of the tablecloth to keep my hands from shaking.

  “Isaiah would want to know, honey, you know he would. I’ve been tryin’ to give you time, but...our baby girl is a year old. Look at all he’s already missed out on,” Ruby says so softly I have to strain to hear her.

  I lay my head down on the table and the tears all drip onto the table. When I raise my head back up, I have to grab a paper towel to blow my nose.

  “You think I don’t think about this? Every single day. It’s all I think about. I feel so guilty for keeping it from him. He would love her so much. I just—I can’t go back to Tulma. I can’t. Gracie’s life is good here. It would be harder for her in Tulma, you know it would, Ruby. I just haven’t been able to put her through that, not even now when she’s too little to understand it. Everyone there knows my history.”

  “If you’d been there, it would have given everyone time to come around to the idea of you having Gracie. All your customers at Harriet’s—they’s not all bad people. They love you there. And they eventually would Gracie too.”

  “I was nearly killed there. Les and Leroy might be gone, but their families haven’t forgotten me. I feel like I’d be putting Gracie at risk there and myself too. And I can’t leave Papa,” I whisper. “He has changed my whole life by loving me. I can’t leave him.”

  Ruby walks over and stands behind my chair. I lean my head over on her stomach and she strokes my hair.

  “I don’t want you to leave Bardstown!” Brenda’s voice wobbles across the room. She finds the softer tissue and gives her nose a big honk. “But at least give Isaiah a chance to know about his baby girl. I think the guilt is killing you. You’re never without a smile, but I see the shadows around your eyes and the way you drift off into your thoughts after Gracie has just done something adorable.”

  “She’s right, darlin’, you’s needin’ some closure to move on with your life. And that baby girl in there needs a daddy.”

  We hash over it
for hours.

  Papa comes in and adds his two cents, which is, “Tell him.”

  They’ve all said it at one time or another, but now the three of them ganging up on me all at once is a bombardment. Darts all flying with single purpose straight into my heart and not letting me recover before shooting another, I heed their words.

  AT TWO IN the morning, I begin my letter to him.

  Dear Isaiah—

  It seems trite to start this letter off with any small talk. We were never about that, were we? But I do want to ask the questions that could seem like small talk if you didn’t know how much I cared to know the answers.

  How are you? That would be at the top of my list. What’s new with you? is another. I really, really want to know. Every day I think about you and wonder these things. I wonder if you’ve found love with the girl I saw you laughing with one Sunday after church. I wonder if you kiss her and have forgotten my kisses…

  I crumble it up and start over.

  Isaiah—

  I have something to tell you and I am so sorry for not telling you sooner. You will hate me and you will have every right to.

  We have a daughter.

  Her name is Gracie Mae and she is the most beautiful child you’ve ever seen. She has your eyes, Isaiah. That’s how I knew she was yours. She’s so smart, further proof that your blood is running through her veins. She is so full of life. It’s impossible to not smile when you’re around her.

  I came back to tell you I was pregnant. I knew you’d want to know, even if the baby wasn’t yours. I saw you with a beautiful girl outside your church. You walked with her and laughed with her...and you looked at her with the same adoration that you used to look at me. I just couldn’t ruin your life anymore, Isaiah. I couldn’t do it.

  I also couldn’t stay around to watch you fall in love with someone else. You will always have my heart, Isaiah. I’m not too proud to say it. When I fell for you, it was for keeps.

  The fact that I haven’t told you about Gracie has haunted me. Please know that it has never been out of anger that I’ve kept the truth from you. Our love was never without complication, and I’ve wished to spare you from any more of that. But that’s just not real life. And I know that I can’t keep our baby in a bubble for much longer. God knows I’ve tried.

  I’m just outside of Bardstown, Kentucky. At the old Harrison plantation. In a month, we’ll be opening up a bed and breakfast here called The Magnolia Inn. If you ever want to see her, I will never ever deny you.

  Caroline

  THE MAGNOLIA INN is thriving. We’ve filled all five of the Inn bedrooms for the last twelve weekends. And some of those have been filled throughout the week, too. I keep it spotless and help check people in and out. When I’ve done the cleaning and laundry for the day, I work on the garden with Papa. The guests are raving about the dishes Ruby makes. She swears that the vegetables and fruit from our garden are what makes everything so tasty. She cooks a fancy breakfast every morning and also supper Friday and Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.

  Our flowers fill every room. I do a huge arrangement for the living room and dining room every five days or so. Ruby says that might be my calling.

  Gracie floats in and out, charming everyone with her sunshine. She stays by my side most of the day, dragging Dolly along as “we” clean.

  Papa and I usually enjoy an early breakfast to ourselves each day, out on the screened-in porch. We like to have this time together, before all the strangers start coming out of the woodwork. Although, we get a kick out of seeing them long enough to see if they’re crazy or not. Most are on the eccentric side—I don’t know if that’s common for bed and breakfasters or what, but they give us lots of material to laugh over each morning.

  After a second cup of coffee, Papa clears his throat. “Caroline girl, I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Why, Papa?”

  “You just haven’t been your perky self for a while now. Everything okay? You regrettin’ doin’ this Inn? Is it too much?”

  “No, I’m loving it. I really am. Does it seem like I don’t?”

  He just studies me.

  “I’m tired is all, that’s probably it,” I assure him.

  “You sure? Nothing else?”

  “Well,” I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice from shaking, “actually...I did write him a letter, Papa. I told him all about Gracie and even that I still love him…”

  I can’t say his name out loud. Papa takes my hand and pats it, waiting for me to come out with it.

  “And nothing. Not one word.” I study the ceiling intently. I will not cry.

  Papa exhales a large gust of air and reaches up to smooth his eyebrows. It’s what he does when he doesn’t know what to say.

  “I sent it the day after Gracie’s birthday, before I could lose my nerve.”

  “That was three months ago!” He looks as shocked as I’ve felt all these months.

  “I know. I never dreamed he wouldn’t respond. It’s so—unlike him. I don’t even know what to think.”

  “From all you’ve told me about him, I have to admit that it shocks me too,” he says. “You’re sure he got it?”

  “I guess so. I mean, it hasn’t been returned or anything.”

  “Yeah, it would have surely been returned had he not been there to get it.”

  Our conversation sits in my chest all day, nagging me. It’s been hard to get away from it all these months. I’ve been so glad the Inn has been keeping me so busy, otherwise, this would have crushed me. I’m not surprised that Isaiah has moved on, but I never expected him to not want anything to do with his daughter. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

  That night I write him again. I don’t send it until another month passes where I still don’t hear from him.

  Isaiah,

  I expected you to be upset with me, but I never expected this.

  You’re not who I thought you were. You don’t deserve the privilege of knowing my little girl.

  If you wanted to shut off my love for you, you’ve succeeded.

  Caroline

  I didn’t think it would help, but it does. I’m so angry with him that it propels me into a whirlwind of motion. I get things done. And I don’t cry a single tear for him again.

  WE’VE HAD SOME real characters at the Inn. This week Hal Manning arrived. He had only been here half a day and we were wishing he’d pass on through. Yesterday was his fourth night, and I check the roster as soon as I go downstairs to see how much longer he’s planning to stay. I audibly groan when I realize we have three more nights with him and then I look around to see if anyone heard me. Nope, free and clear.

  I have my breakfast early and then help with serving the guests. Hal comes past the time we’ve allotted and plops down in front of the only clean place setting while I’m still clearing off the table from our other five guests.

  His polyester suit is at least two sizes too small. His neck fat bulges out over his collar, making me need to take deep breaths just thinking about being squeezed up in something so tight all day. He picks up his cloth napkin and wipes all the sweat off his forehead, upper lip, and neck, doing a final sweep up around his hairline.

  I swallow.

  “You’ve missed breakfast,” I tell him.

  It’s happened the last four mornings and this morning Ruby huffed, “I ain’t doing no mo favors for Hal Manning! He can get hisself up to eat when it’s time or go down to Shelby’s later!”

  He just stares at me and pushes up his thick glasses. “I paid for breakfast and I want my breakfast.”

  “Breakfast ended at 10 o’clock, Mr. Manning. I’m sorry you’ve missed it today.”

  He grits his teeth and turns red. “I don’t care if it’s 11! If I paid for breakfast, I want breakfast!”

  I mentally tick off how many times he’s said breakfast.

  “Shelby’s down on Main will be serving breakfast all day.”

  “This is ridiculous. I travel fifty
weeks out of the year and I can tell you, this is ridiculous!”

  He gets up and throws down the sweaty napkin and hobbles off, mad. I know he’ll be calling within the hour requesting more towels in his room (probably to wipe off all his sweat, yuck). I try to catch him before he gets to the stairs.

  “Here are some extra towels, Mr. Manning. I know you li-”

  “Extra towels does not equal breakfast,” he spits out.

  I’m aware of that. I think anyone with a brain would be aware of that fine fact.

  Out loud I say, “Quite right you are. Have a good day, Mr. Manning.”

  Later, I tell Ruby about the whole exchange and we have a good laugh over coconut cream pie.

  “I’d like a fresh white towel with cream, please,” I say to get her laughing all over again.

  She leans over and slaps her knee with her hand, laughing. “Extra butter on my towels…”

  “Can I get some syrup with that towel?” I say between breaths. “And a towel sausage patty?”

  Papa saunters into the kitchen to us howling. “What is going on in here?” He chuckles.

  “Would you like an omelet towel, Papa?”

  We lose it then, while Papa just shakes his head, looking amused. “Lord sakes, what did I miss?”

  FIONA HAS COME once a week since the Inn opened. Every time she comes she says she just needs to get away for a night, but I think she’s lonely in her big old house and likes our company.

  “Caroline, this is the best coffee cake. I just can’t make it like this.”

  “Ruby is the best cook in the whole wide world,” I boast.

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Fiona says with a smile. “I’m bringing my grandson Bobby with me next time I come.”

  She says this every time. He has yet to come.

  “Bobby would think you’re a looker, all right.”

  She also says this every time. And I change the subject every time.