“I’m sure we did. So much has,” she said, and handed one of the halves to me.
We sat together in the quiet until we heard footsteps nearing from the kitchen, and a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize, asking if she could come into the room.
Chapter 51
I HELPED THEM PACK the car and couldn’t help thinking that I still wished they were coming with me instead of leaving. I wanted Tennessee to know I was still there with her, until the minute that I couldn’t be any longer. Moore’s body had been gone for at least twenty minutes. Celeste started the car and the air-conditioning, and Tennessee and Omie said goodbye to Mama D and Mr. Draughn. Then Tennessee put Omie in the car seat and, leaving the door open, turned to me.
I took Tennessee’s face in my hands and she lifted it toward mine to kiss me.
“I won’t ask for any promises from you this time,” I said, pulling away only enough to speak. “But I’ll make one that I know I can keep. If you ever need me—whenever you need me, no matter how old we are or what happens in between—I’ll be there. I mean that.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then kissed me for the last time before she got in the car.
I leaned through the open door and took Omie’s hand in mine, but when the tears sprang to my eyes, I let go and mussed his hair once before standing straight, knowing he’d already seen more than enough tears that day. When Celeste started driving, I began walking and followed them onto Baxter Creek until they were gone from my sight. Back at my car, I set my pack in the passenger seat, the geode half-tucked safe inside, along with everything else. I didn’t feel good about leaving Strickland without Tennessee or with a bag full of Nate’s drug money, but I knew the most important thing was that I was leaving, period.
I unhooked my phone from the cigarette lighter and went to my contacts. Beau answered on the second ring.
“I know it’s been a long time,” I said.
“I’ve been trying to reach you, man, did you get my messages?”
“No,” I said, “but things have been crazy here.”
“Broke my heart to hear about Nate. I know he was working hard to get both of you down here.”
“He never said anything to me about it,” I said, adding it to the long list of things I wished I’d known. “But what if I headed that way now?”
I drove until I was well past the Strickland County line before I stopped at a gas station. I didn’t want to risk anything getting in the way of my leaving. When I parked at the pump, I stopped and looked at the cars and people around me. There was no sign of anyone like Moore, looking to pick a fight.
I stepped inside to pay for my gas before I pumped, and found a map near the register. The guy behind the counter held up the hundred-dollar bill to check the watermark before putting it in the drawer and finding my change.
“Wait,” I said, and handed him two Snickers bars to add to the bill.
He gave me my change and then turned his attention to the woman in line behind me without bothering to ask where I was going, or how I was doing. Already I missed Mrs. Devin at the Sip N Sak and all of her questions.
After the tank clicked full, I unfolded the map across the steering wheel. It would take me thirteen hours to get to Florida. Thirteen hours and almost nine hundred miles from the place where I was born for the chance that I might really live.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my fierce and dear agent and friend, Cindy Uh, for believing so strongly in this book and in me. Your faith inspires me daily, and I can’t wait for the journey ahead of us. Thank you, Meg Thompson, for picking up my manuscript at Ade and Cory’s apartment in Nashville and getting it into Cindy’s hands. Cory Chisel and Adriel Denae, thank you for writing the song “Tennessee” that inspired this book. Roseanne Cash, thank you for introducing me to Cory and Ade, and for all your wisdom and encouragement over the years. I am incredibly blessed to know such talented artists and to be intrinsically inspired by all of you.
Thank you to my editors, Alex Arnold and Rebecca Aronson, and everyone at Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins. I am so proud that you brought this story to life and taught me so much in the process.
Thank you to my early readers, who offered critical advice and encouragement: Stephen Parolini, Nora Pelizzari, Kelly Morrison Zumwalt, Kristy Robinson, Ben Pearson, Scott Laudati, Johnny Duke, Allie Levick, and Jonathan Lewis. To my book club women who read drafts and have always championed me in both writing and life: Jessica Kimbrough, Tammy Rutherford, Liz Scowden, Jaime Bryan, and Marna Taylor, I love you all dearly.
A special thank-you to Jonathan Lewis, JR Davis, and Kyle Hittner for taking me deep into the mountains and sharing your passion for its beautiful people.
Thank you to the Foxfire organization for preserving Appalachian culture for so many years, and for being an incredible resource. Thank you to Bitter Southerner for caring about the South, the rights of all people everywhere, and fighting for a better, more inclusive South.
Thank you, Lisa Donovan, for Mama Draughn’s pie recipe. I hope I got it right—no one can match your wit and baking skills.
To my North Carolinian parents, Scotty and Darlene Smith, thank you for taking us to Boone, North Carolina, every year and for not having a television for many years and for raising us on good stories and music. My brother, Scott Smith, thank you for loving me so well and for sharing your ardor for nature and fishing with me. You are imbedded in these pages.
Thank you, Rann Russell, for being a great father to our son, Finn, and to Elise Russell for being a great stepmom, and Sam a great stepbrother. It always takes a village, but especially for a writer-mum.
Bill and Gail Vinett, thank you for books, brunches, and unwavering belief in your hairstylist, now bonus(?) daughter. Finn and I love you both so much. Here’s to never falling down stairs again.
Jana Smith, thank you for putting up with my neuroses at the salon, and for reminding me to not take everything so damn seriously all the time.
Ruby Amanfu, thank you for loving me and being a force. We’re doing it. Natalie Paige, thank you for our feminist taco talks, and being a touchstone of growth over the years.
Jeff Zentner, thank you for befriending me, and answering all of my novice-author questions without ever being condescending.
Thanks to my Barre 3 community in Nashville for keeping me somewhat sane in mind, body, and spirit and balancing the time I spend in my head.
Parnassus Books of Nashville, thank you for being my home away from home for so many years and supporting my book addiction. I’ll never feel lonely within your walls.
Dearest Finn, it’s an honor to be your mom. Thank you for lighting my path. Keep asking all the questions.
About the Author
Photo by Heidi Ross
KRISTIN RUSSELL grew up in Nashville, Tennessee. She has worked as a hairstylist for the last seventeen years and began writing fiction in the break rooms of salons between client appointments. Steeped in Nashville’s music industry from an early age, Kristin is inspired by well-wrought lyrics and aims to bring the same craft to her fiction. She lives in Nashville with her son, Finn.
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Copyright
Lyrics here used with permission from the songwriter, Cory Chisel. 2009, Black Seal/Sony
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
A SKY FOR US ALONE. Copyright © 2019 by Kristin Russell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the
required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art © 2019 by Clay Rodery
Cover design by David Curtis
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018938294
Digital Edition JANUARY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-269704-2
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-269702-8
* * *
1819202122PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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