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Heart of the Country
Copyright © 2011 by John Ward. All rights reserved.
Cover design © 2013 FOX. All rights reserved.
Designed by Ron Kaufmann
Edited by Sarah Mason
Published in association with Yates & Yates (www.yates2.com).
Published in association with the literary agency of Books and Such, Janet Kobobel Grant, 4788 Carissa Ave., Santa Rosa, CA 95405.
Heart of the Country is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gutteridge, Rene.
Heart of the country / Rene Gutteridge ; based on the screenplay by John Ward.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4143-4829-2 (sc)
1. Fathers and sons—Fiction. 2. Inheritance and succession—Fiction. 3. Fraud—Fiction. 4. Prodigal son (Parable)—Fiction. 5. North Carolina—Fiction. 6. Domestic fiction. I. Ward, John, 1970- II. Title.
PS3557.U887H43 2011
813´.54—dc22 2011032760
ISBN 978-1-4143-6771-2 (ePub), 978-1-4143-6772-9 (Kindle), 978-1-4143-6770-5 (Apple)
Build: 2013-07-31 10:11:52
In memory of Joyce Bernhardt, who was both the heart and the country.
R. G.
To my two children, Cali and Jack, with a father’s unconditional love.
J. W.
Contents
Acknowledgments
1: Catherine
2: Luke
3: Faith
4: Luke
5: Faith
6: Luke
7: Faith
8: Luke
9: Faith
10: Olivia
11: Faith
12: Catherine
13: Olivia
14: Faith
15: Luke
16: Catherine
17: Faith
18: Olivia
19: Luke
20: Faith
21: Catherine
22: Faith
23: Olivia
24: Faith
25: Olivia
26: Catherine
27: Faith
28: Luke
29: Olivia
30: Faith
31: Catherine
32: Faith
33: Olivia
34: Faith
35: Catherine
36: Olivia
37: Faith
38: Luke
39: Olivia
40: Luke
41: Faith
42: Olivia
43: Luke
44: Faith
45: Luke
46: Olivia
47: Faith
48: Luke
49: Faith
50: Luke
51: Faith
52: Olivia
53: Luke
54: Olivia
55: Luke
56: Faith
57: Luke
58: Faith
59: Luke
60: Olivia
61: Faith
62: Luke
63: Calvin
About the Authors
Discussion Questions
Interview
Acknowledgments
Rene Gutteridge:
I would like to first and foremost thank John Ward for allowing me to share in the creative endeavors of his vision for Heart of the Country and to be a part of his journey on this project. He’s fantastically gifted and I loved working with his material. I’d like to also thank the entire Tyndale team, as well as my editors, Jan Stob and Sarah Mason, and Karen Watson, for seeing the possibilities of John’s script as a novel. I’d like to thank Janet Grant, who continues to believe in me and my writing abilities. Thanks also and always to Sean, John, and Cate, who support me to no end and love me even more. The three of you are the heart in my country. Last, but not least, thanks to God—every book is a treat and I appreciate the opportunities He gives me and the gift that allows me to do each one.
John Ward:
Thanks to my grandmothers and the incredible people of Columbus County, North Carolina, for teaching me the gift of story and the value of people and character. To my parents, David and Gayle; my wife, Christy; Chris Ferebee; and Karen Watson.
1
CATHERINE
IT WAS A STRANGE THING to know that I was to become a memory to them. I kept searching for pain because pain means life. Instead, I smelled Lip Smackers on Olivia’s pale-pink lips. I heard Faith’s high-pitched giggles that still sounded childish even though she was growing into a young woman. I couldn’t move my arms, but against my fingertips, I felt their hair, their shoelaces, their sticky cheeks.
I knew this would break their hearts into thousands of tiny pieces that one lifetime couldn’t mend.
“Ma’am? Ma’am?”
I wished that he knew my name. I wanted somebody to know my name. The sirens wailed and screamed and I wondered if I was coming and going out of consciousness or if that’s just how sirens sounded from the inside.
Above me, out of a light misty-gray that seemed like steam from a shower, I saw a man’s face come into view. His eyes were frantic but gorgeous and blue. Above him I caught my reflection against a long metal strip that ran the length of the ambulance. There was a familiarity to him, but that was true of everyone in Columbus County. If I didn’t know you, I knew your mom or your grandpa or your second cousin.
“Blood pressure . . .”
The words faded, just like the sirens, and his beautiful eyes retreated to a far place that I longed to reach for. I only saw the girls now, their faces passing by me like living, breathing photographs. And Calvin standing by his horse.
I wanted to be more than a memory. I hated that for the rest of their days they would only be able to touch me in their minds or set their gazes on a tiny glimpse captured by a camera.
A mother’s heart cannot let go. Not even to a father who had all the love in the world to offer them. I could never be replaced.
I looked again to that long metal reflection above me. I was covered in blankets. The EMT was covered in blood, and I thought that was strange. Warm and cold sensations drifted through my body, and I searched again for any sign of pain. My face looked distorted against the metal, like in a fun house mirror, except nothing else seemed out of proportion.
“Fourteen minutes out!”
Yes, it was a long way to the hospital when you lived in the country. Only one winding road led through our neck of the woods. Columbus County did not have a well-designed road system. The state was involved in a plan to pave “farm to market” roads, the idea being to improve transportation of tobacco, corn, sweet potatoes, cotton, soybeans, and livestock to places like Whiteville and Tabor City, where the train tracks ran. But instead of designing a modern road system, they paved the old dirt roads that had generally followed horse and carriage paths. They once connected neighboring farms, working around and over the swampy areas, resulting in a system of meandering roads. I could feel the ambulance hugging the curves of the concrete. It was often on these roads where I heard the music play.
I closed my eyes, or maybe they were already closed. I told myself to live, no matter what, to live. And then I felt it, a tiny prick of pain in my heel.
2
LUKE
THERE IS CERTAIN PROTOCOL when introducing an outsider into the Carraday family. And it does
not include bringing a stranger as of sixty-two days ago to the family compound, as I like to refer to it.
I watched Faith’s expression as we pulled into the long drive that led to my childhood summer home in the Hamptons. Her mouth opened as she gazed upward through the tinted window of the sedan.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“A little, yes.”
I wanted to put a hand on hers, but I didn’t want her to feel my own hand shaking. Yet even as I trembled at the idea of what I was doing, I felt reassured. I knew they’d like Faith. She was easygoing, down to earth, and a way better conversationalist than any of the other girls I’d dated. I use the word dated lightly.
She wore a simple yellow sundress and a light-blue sweater, like she was sunlight drenched in clear sky. Ward pulled the car into the circular drive, and she let out a long, determined sigh, then smiled to reassure me she would be fine. I touched her shoulder, brushed her long hair away from her face.
“Just be yourself,” I said.
“Who else would I be?” She grinned.
I’d prepared her little for what she would encounter. Faith was likable and genuinely liked other people. I figured she could hold her own with Dad. He really wasn’t the one I was worried about.
Ward opened her door and helped her out. We both stood for a moment, adjusting our clothes and our nerves. I took her hand and we walked up the white concrete stairs that led to the front door.
Faith gazed up at it. “This kind of door makes you believe in giants.”
“Obnoxious, isn’t it?”
The door opened swiftly, before we even knocked, as I knew it would. Winston stood in his tailored suit, his warm eyes outdone only by his pearly teeth emerging. “Hello, Luke! It has been a long time since you’ve been here.”
Christmas, to be exact. “Hi, Winston. This is Faith.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Winston said, graciously shaking her hand. They endeared themselves to each other almost immediately. I had a good feeling about this day already.
“Your father and Jake are on the terrace,” Winston said. “I presume you remember your way there?” His eyes gleamed with a bit of mischievousness.
“We’ll manage,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. I guided Faith straight to the back of the twenty-thousand-square-foot estate. I knew this would be a shock to her. She’d only seen my apartment, modest by Carraday standards. I tried to play it off as we walked. “Just a little house on a tiny piece of land,” I said, squeezing her hand.
“Funny,” she said. Her lips trembled as she smiled. “This is . . .”
“Outrageously over the top?”
“Beautiful,” she finished.
I pointed out the back window. “There they are. Trading business war stories over bourbon and Coke, I imagine.”
Faith stepped closer to the window and looked out, but I noticed she was staring at the ocean instead. “Breathtaking. How can anyone not believe in a God?” she whispered.
“I suppose only if they believe they are God. And on that note, allow me to introduce you to my family.” I opened the back door for her. It was a long walk to the terrace that overlooked the pool, that overlooked the gardens, that overlooked the cliffs, that overlooked the ocean. We were close before Jake finally turned around, though I suspected he knew we were coming long before that.
Dad got to his feet. “You must be Faith,” he said, extending a hand and shaking hers with the mannerisms of a stoic gentleman.
Jake’s cigar choked out all the clean air. Faith had lived in New York for three years, but she still had the lungs of a country girl, and she started coughing a little, trying her best to hold it in. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“This is Jake,” I said after Jake failed to speak.
At the mention of his own name, he took interest. He didn’t bother to stand, but he shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You too,” Faith said.
“We were just discussing some business matters,” Jake said, turning his chair back to his view of the ocean. “I don’t know where Candace is. Somewhere in the house.”
This was Jake’s way of saying that Faith should go find a woman to talk to, but I took her hand and pulled out a chair for her at the table. I saw Jake glance to Dad with his displeasure, but I didn’t care. I wanted them to know this girl.
“So, Faith, why don’t you tell us about yourself,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair like there was nothing he cared about less.
“She went to Juilliard,” I said.
Jake eyed me. “Surely she can speak for herself.”
I put my hand on her back. “I’m sorry. I’m just kind of in awe of your singing talent.”
“What degree did you graduate with?” Dad asked.
“I, um . . . I haven’t graduated. I took some time off.”
“Oh, I see.”
Glad that was out of the way. A college degree or four was like a badge of honor in my family, but I knew soon enough they’d see how smart she was anyway.
“You must’ve dropped out to pursue some other sort of business venture,” Jake said, taking a long sip of his drink while keeping his eyes glued to her. “So what is it that you do?”
“I’m hired by companies to showcase their new products. Chanel, in particular.”
Jake slowly lowered his glass to the table, staring at me, then at her. “You’re telling me you’re a Chanel girl?”
“I’m hoping to be promoted to Chanel woman soon,” Faith said wryly. She always had such a good sense of humor about what she did. She joked that if paisley came back into style, she was done. So for our third date, I gave her a small gift wrapped in paisley paper, and she laughed for a good ten minutes about that one.
Jake suddenly stood. “Dad, you want a refill?”
“Sure,” he said, handing his glass over.
“Luke, why don’t you help me get you and the lady something.”
“Faith.”
“Right. Faith.”
I stood, followed Jake into the house after glancing at Faith. She looked strong and perfectly capable of handling Austin Carraday. It was time for me to handle Jake.
Inside, Winston asked if he could assist, but Jake declined and went straight to the bar.
“What’s she having?”
“We’ll just have some orange juice,” I said, going to the small fridge behind the bar. I grabbed two glasses.
“So where did you meet this Faith . . . what’s her last name?”
“Barnett. And it was at that stupid retro fund-raising party. You remember the one?”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I saw her at the bar. She looked like I felt.”
“Not sure how to read that,” Jake quipped, pouring the Coke. “But nevertheless, that was only, what, two months ago?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve known her for eight weeks.”
“Looks like it.” I braced myself. I could tell by the way he was emphasizing every syllable that things were starting to get dicey.
“And you brought her here. To the family compound? We don’t just bring anyone here, Luke.”
“Exactly. She’s not just anyone.”
“She’s not just anyone?” Jake smirked. “How many Chanel girls do you think are in this city? They’re a dime a dozen.”
“She’s different.”
“Different how? She dropped out of Juilliard. That might be your first red flag. She wants to meet your family after eight—”
“That was my idea. Meeting the family.”
“She’s pretty. I’ll give you that,” Jake said, mixing the drinks. “But pretty isn’t something you’ve ever got to worry about, little brother. In our world they’re all pretty. But pretty can be deceiving.”
“I know. Believe me.” I finished pouring the orange juice and angled myself where I could see his face better. “Jake, I know I’ve made my mistakes with women in the past. In fact, meeting Faith made me r
ealize how many I’ve made.” I paused as I watched him ponder. “How did you know Candace was the one?”
“First of all, we were on equal ground. Candace’s family has wealth dating back a century, so I knew she didn’t want me for my money.”
I sighed. “Faith is different. If I were a bum on the street, she’d still like me for me.”
“If she likes bums on the street, I’m going to have to wonder about her judgment.”
“Come on. You know what I mean.”
Jake turned to me. “You can’t possibly know someone’s intentions in eight weeks.”
“We have a connection that tells me otherwise.”
“A connection. What are we, in middle school? Haven’t you lived out in the world long enough to know how fleeting emotions can be?”
From where I stood, I could see Faith. She was smiling and talking with Dad, her mannerisms relaxed.
“Why can’t you give her a chance?”
“Because the Carradays don’t ride on chance. The stakes are too high.”
I stared at him. “This is your whole life, isn’t it? The estate. The business. The family name.”
“And you’re always willing to risk it, aren’t you?”
“Look at Dad out there, Jake. I know what he’s built. I know his deep appreciation for the dollar. But is he happy?”
“I don’t know if he’s happy. But he doesn’t have to worry about where his next paycheck is coming from, and neither of us should ever take that for granted.”
“I don’t take it for granted. I just can’t let it define me. I can’t look at that girl out there and say that she’s too much of a risk because she hasn’t quite found her way like we have. And truth be told, Jake, we didn’t find our way. We were given it.”
Jake and I watched them for a moment before he started to the door. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. I worry about you, Luke. I have since the day you were born. You’re the dreamer of the family. You get that from Mom. And you can see where that took her.”
“Leave Mom out of it.”
“I don’t have to. She took herself out of it a long time ago.” He pushed open the back door and I watched him walk the steps toward the patio. The ocean was calm, sparkling, boasting the sailboats that glided through her waters.
Heart of the Country Page 1
