Heart of the Country

  I checked my hair, my makeup, because that’s what I did in New York. I had to look the part. But here, I wasn’t even sure what my part was now. How was I going to explain myself? Would he even want to see me? I’d made the occasional phone call, but Daddy wasn’t much of a phone talker.

  My hand rested on the gearshift, but I couldn’t get myself to put it into drive. And I couldn’t help the tear that ran down my face, probably streaking right through my blush. I couldn’t help any of it. I was facing my own worst fear, and driving toward it, I’d found my confidence and ordered my excuses. But now, with the dragon lurking restlessly behind the beautiful rust-colored maples, I’d lost every ounce of courage I’d mustered.

  I stared at the glowing R on the dashboard. And with one swift motion, I backed up, causing the dust to rise again, like smoke from the dragon’s nostrils.

  I only got ten yards or so before I stopped myself, though. Because I realized, with great dread, that I had nowhere else to run to. It was here or there. And there was gone, like the dust from the road when caught in even the mildest wind. There had crumbled under the weight of reality.

  I caught another tear with my finger. I noticed my hand trembling. I noticed my heart skipping beats. And then I noticed him.

  He was far away, but he was wearing that bright-red shirt he liked so much. Sitting on the small bench that looked over the fields and pastures he loved. His back was facing the road, so maybe he didn’t notice my car.

  I pulled to the side. For some reason, I needed to walk this out. Some of my most cherished memories were along this road, walking to get the mail, with my mom, my dad, my sister, or sometimes by myself. Wildflowers, purple and yellow, grew alongside it in the spring. I must’ve picked a hundred bouquets for my momma. And she’d put each one in a vase, as if it were the first time I’d ever given her anything. She was so good at gushing.

  The road leading to our house was dirt, with some gravel and oyster shells thrown in holes here and there to keep down the amount of mud created when it rained. Daddy was not keeping it as pristine as when Momma was alive. Bradford pear trees lined the drive on both sides. In the spring, they were virtually covered with white blossoms, but in the fall, the leaves turned deep orange and red, each forming the rounded pyramid shape that made them so popular in this area.

  One of the trees had died, hunching under the weight of its dead limbs. I wondered if it had grieved to death after Momma died.

  One foot in front of the other, I walked. I wrapped my arms around myself even though the air was pretty warm for this time of year. I realized I was chilled by my own guilt. For all of it, I might as well be a blizzard inside.

  I kept my eyes on him. Without him, I would stop. He was all at once what I feared and what I hoped for. What I hoped for more than what I feared. So I was able to keep walking. Dust settled against my ankles. I wondered when the last time was that I walked on dirt.

  A few yards away, he sensed me and turned. My heart stopped as I watched him get to his feet. I was taken aback by how he’d aged.

  I realized as I walked, faster now, that he couldn’t see me well enough to know who I was. I watched him fish his glasses out of his pocket, put them on his face. By now I was close, twenty feet away. I stopped because I didn’t know what else to do. His eyes widened.

  “Faith?” He stepped forward. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Daddy,” I said, my voice choked and weak. “I’m home.”

  12

  CATHERINE

  “MA’AM? Can you hear me?”

  There is a dirt road that leads to my house. It’s spectacularly unspectacular, except it’s our road. Calvin had it named. I saw Olivia bounding down it, her floral skirt tangled between those lanky legs. Her curls bounced around her head, like they were square-dancing. She was my serious one. Always on task. Always together, confident in her decisions. Like her daddy.

  She was smiling today, running fast in those new cowboy boots she’d saved up her allowance for. I loved that rare smile.

  Behind her came Faith, little, maybe three, with her matching skirt. She wanted to dress like her sister. But the skirt came down to her ankles. Beneath the hem I saw she didn’t have shoes on. I could never get that girl to wear shoes.

  “Blood pressure is fifty-two over thirty-five . . .”

  I felt my eyes open, even though I thought they already were. I stared up at this boy. How old could he have been? He looked so young. Terrified. His sharp blue eyes opened wider as he noticed mine.

  And then searing pain through my legs. I almost laughed, except I’d never felt pain like this in my life. I’d delivered both girls naturally, but it was nothing like this. I tried to move my hand, tried to find his. I needed a hand.

  There it was. His found mine. Squeezed it. I couldn’t squeeze back. I couldn’t move anything. But I felt pain.

  “I’m alive!”

  The young man lowered himself, put his ear close to my mouth. It was strange. I thought I’d shouted it, but it appeared he could barely hear me.

  “Her blood pressure is rising!” he said, sounding relieved. He looked at me again. It seemed maybe he realized I could see him, and so he smiled a little. “You hang in there, ma’am. Do you hear me?”

  But I felt his hand trembling inside mine.

  He let go and put his hands on my stomach. Heavy, like a brick. Just holding his hands there.

  Then the pain faded again. I tried to grab for it, willing it back.

  “Momma . . .”

  Her voice. Her sweet, sweet voice in my ear.

  “I heard that music you’re always talking about.”

  I swept her around in a circle, holding her tiny waist as her legs clung to my hips. “You did?”

  “Yes, I did. When I was in the pasture.”

  “What did it sound like?”

  “I don’t know. It smelled.”

  I laughed. “Smelled?”

  “Yes. Like you and Daddy.” She dropped to the ground, placing her arms around my waist. “I want to be like you someday, Momma.”

  “Me?”

  “Everybody tells me I look like you.”

  “You do.”

  “And so I am going to sing like you, too.”

  I knelt down and smoothed her hair out of her face. “You just remember that the music comes from here.” I put a hand on her heart. And then she ran, wrapped in the bright light of midday.

  It enveloped her, and I couldn’t see her any longer. “Faith? Faith?”

  “Ma’am, calm down. I’m right here. Right here with you.”

  His hand slid into mine again. I felt the rubbery latex. I wanted to feel his flesh. Something wet dribbled down my arm. Warm.

  The pain was there, but it was distant, as if someone else were feeling it. Don’t let it go. Don’t let it go.

  “Don’t let go.”

  His face was near mine, his eyes like beacons of light.

  “Okay.” And then I heard the music.

  13

  OLIVIA

  MY BACK ACHED for some of that ointment that turns hot after it touches your skin. Sometimes I just want to rub that all over my body. But I guess that’s what old people do. Sometimes I had to remind myself I was thirty, not eighty. I stood in line at the grocery with just a few items, but behind the one woman in town who liked to buy three weeks’ worth at a time.

  “Sorry about that, Olivia,” Teresa said, hoisting a two-pound bag of okra onto the conveyer. “I’ll be done here in a sec.”

  “Mommy, can I have a—”

  “No, you cannot, and if you’d like to know, the man who invented the candy display at the checkout aisle died of candy poisoning.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “He did?”

  Nell snorted. “Of course he didn’t. She just says that because I guess it’s easier than saying a plain no.” She glanced at me with those wise eyes she got from her grandfather.

  Finally Teresa and her three carts of groceries were done. Ang
ie sensed my agitation and checked me out quickly.

  “Ah. Your dad’s favorite,” she said as she slid the pumpkin over the scanner.

  “Oh yes. I probably toast six or seven pans of pumpkin seeds this time of year.”

  “Oooo, I love ’em too. With salt and a little olive oil.”

  I thanked Angie and hurried the kids to the car. We still had the afternoon science lessons for Nell, plus multiplication, and I figured Dad was going to want to chat a little like always.

  I was driving too fast, hoping a rock wouldn’t pop up on the windshield and crack it. It had happened seven times and Hardy was getting tired of replacing the windshield.

  I saw it as I came over the hill . . . that black, shiny city car I’d seen from the corner store. It was parked on the side of the road, near the mailbox. It made me feel funny inside. Why hadn’t they pulled into the drive?

  I pulled around it, eyeing it carefully. As best I could tell, nobody was in it. I turned onto the dirt drive, creeping along, watchful for anything suspicious.

  Everything looked in order. I could see Silver near the fence, his tail twitching, his eyes calm.

  I parked and waited for a moment.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Nell asked.

  “Stay here,” I instructed and got out of the truck.

  “But the sack—”

  “Just stay here.”

  The front door was open and the screen was shut. I climbed the steps to the porch and tried to see into the house. I never knocked at Daddy’s, but then again, there weren’t ever any cars out front that I didn’t recognize.

  I opened the screen door. It let out its typical screech.

  “Daddy?”

  The front room was empty and the house was particularly quiet as I stepped in. Usually at least the television was on. “Dad?”

  Nothing.

  I hurried to his bedroom. But it was empty. His bed made. Everything tidy.

  “Dad?”

  I went to the kitchen and then saw out the back door. There he was. With a woman. They were looking out at the pasture and didn’t see me.

  I dusted my hands and smoothed my jeans, tugging at the flannel shirt that seemed to have shrunk over the past few years. I wondered about getting the kids, then decided I’d do that in a minute.

  I opened the screen door and smiled pleasantly. “Hello?”

  Dad turned around first and I gave a short wave, then looked at the woman. The pleasant smile dropped straight off my face. “Faith?”

  “Hi, Olivia.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. Looked apprehensive. And not like herself at all. Fancy hair. Fancy clothes. Apparently fancy car.

  I glanced at Dad, who gave me a look that said I should pick my smile up off the porch and put it right back on.

  I walked down the steps, stretching that smile hard across my face. “Faith. My goodness. How unexpected.”

  Dad looked like he was about to burst with excitement and tears all at once. He walked with her as we met halfway. He had a hand on her back. A grin on his face. A spring to his step.

  We hugged, but I let go of her because frankly I’m not much of a hugger. Never have been. At least since I was a kid. I tried not to stare at her, but it was hard. I mean, she looked like she’d run into a paint truck with that lipstick and eye shadow. And if her orange shirt got any louder and crisper, it might be a Cheeto.

  Suddenly the door flung open and Nell and Vic were bounding toward us.

  “I told you guys to stay in the truck.”

  “Who’s that?” Nell said, pointing to Faith. “Here’s your medicine, Grandpa.”

  “Girls,” Dad said, “this is your aunt. Faith. This is Nell and Victoria.”

  Good grief, could this get any more awkward?

  “Well, listen,” I said, huddling the girls and pushing them toward the house, “I know you two have a lot of catching up to do. Years’ worth, really. I’ve got to get home and get the schoolwork done. Faith, you just stopping by or are you here for a while?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  Of course you’re not. “Okay. Boy, wish I could be as whimsical as that. ’Course that’d throw Hardy for a loop, you know, me just up and leaving. Dad too, for that matter.” I let out an unfortunately timed laugh, which sent awkward ripples through the breeze.

  “Daddy, pharmacist says that’s the same medication, it just looks different. New manufacturer or some such. Faith, I’m sure we’ll catch up soon. You might want to move that fancy car of yours. That gravel can put some real dings in even the nicest of paint.”

  I heard Dad say something, but I pretended not to hear it. I let the back screen slam and continued to whisk the girls out front and toward the truck.

  “I thought you said we’d stay for a little bit,” Nell whined.

  “Not today. Busy, busy.” I hoisted Victoria into the truck and shut the door, then went around the back to try to catch my breath. My hands were shaking. It was like I’d seen a ghost or something.

  I climbed into the truck and started it up.

  “I didn’t know we had an aunt,” Nell said.

  “’Course you did. I told you.”

  “We never seen her,” Victoria said.

  “Yes, well, she’s very busy with her life in New York.” So busy that she couldn’t pick up the phone. Told us she was married after the fact, on a postcard from someplace I’d never heard of. Eloped. I think I still had her present in a closet somewhere.

  We drove up the dirt road. I cranked the air just to keep the kids from jabbering. The pumpkin sat there on the seat next to me.

  After a while, Nell leaned forward from the backseat. “She looks like your mommy.”

  I might’ve seen a ghost after all.

  14

  FAITH

  “DON’T WORRY ABOUT LIV. She’ll come around. Just shock, that’s all. I was getting ready to ask you if you’d called her to let her know you were coming.”

  I looked at my feet. Pedicured toes peeking out of designer stilettos. Just didn’t fit the scene here. “No. I, uh . . . I wasn’t ready for that.” I lifted my head as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. “Can we walk to the barn?”

  Dad shrugged. “Sure.”

  We walked in silence for a while. There was too much to say, and that was the problem with coming home. At least like this. But the simple walk to the barn brought me a comfort I couldn’t explain. Took me back to my roots, I guess. It’s easy to underestimate your roots until they’re all you’ve got left.

  Beside me, Dad limped a little, like he had a bad knee. I’d have to ask him about that later. Every time I looked at him, he’d smile. Part of me wanted to just observe him without his knowing. His temples were gray. The skin over his eyelids sagging just a bit.

  I had hoped the sadness would be gone from his eyes. But it was still there.

  Dad unlocked the large door. I pulled one side; he pulled the other.

  At the barn’s smell, I was instantly taken back to my childhood, memories bulleting through my mind so fast they were almost blurry. My mind wasn’t the one really seeing them, though. It was my heart.

  I could see her atop Lady, blazing through the fields, racing Daddy. She was looking back at him, laughing, racing Lady harder.

  Olivia and I would cheer, one of us for Momma and one of us for Dad.

  I followed him through the empty barn out into the pasture, where the horses must’ve been. “Silver,” I said, smiling as we approached him. He was standing in some mud, twitching his tail. He used to be a beautiful white, with a hint of gray undertone that caused him to shimmer. He was dirty white now. I couldn’t go all the way to meet him because of the mud. Didn’t stop Dad, though, and he looked behind me like he expected me to be there, then noticed my shoes.

  “Where’s Lady?” I asked, glancing down the fence line.

  “Lady died. Couple of winters ago.”

  A hard knot formed in my throat. Dad didn’t look at me but instead seemed interested in the
graying sky. He then gave Silver a hearty pat-down. “Silver over here’s been hanging tough, though.”

  “Liv and I always said he was the son you never had.” I smiled and looked at the horse. He looked so old, so worn out. Lonely. He blinked at me and I wondered if he remembered me. My smell. My voice.

  “Has anyone taken him for a ride recently?”

  Daddy didn’t answer, but he looked at Silver and the answer was obvious. “He’s still got it in him.”

  “Let’s saddle him up, then.”

  We started toward the barn. I noticed just then how the paint was peeling and how the equipment wasn’t tidy like he’d kept it before. It was sort of a picture of my dad’s life. Maybe mine too.

  “You’re not going to ask me why I’m back?”

  “We don’t have to talk about anything. Ever. If you don’t want to.”

  I nodded, helped him with the saddle, and appreciated more than ever this simple man. It was perhaps his simplicity that drove me away, at least in part. He didn’t grieve like me, and I couldn’t ever get him back where I wanted him. But now I appreciated it because I understood the complications of life more than ever. I’d learned more of its complexities and its deep disappointments. I had a better grasp on heartbreak.

  Silver without Lady was like Daddy without Momma. Watching that lonely old horse being saddled up for the first time in who knew when caused the threat of tears. Daddy buckled and strapped, seemingly not having missed a day of it.

  “He’s all yours.” He pointed to my feet. “Except you’re not gonna go far in those. Heck, you might just impale his sides if you’re not careful.”

  “My riding boots still in there?”

  “’Course.”

  I hurried to the barn, slung off my shoes and found the boots in one of the storage closets. They still fit perfectly. I marched toward the horse, my boots plodding through the mud.

  I stroked him on his jaw, where he liked it the most, and patted him hard against his still-muscular frame.