Heart of the Country

by Rene Gutteridge

  I never said this to anyone, but I always wondered about Momma, being by herself in the ambulance. I wondered if she was scared. I wondered why nobody at the scene thought to ride with her.

  I sat there, holding Daddy’s hand but picturing Momma. I squeezed my eyes shut because I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

  I still carried my favorite photo of her in my purse. She was standing in the fields, holding her sun hat, in a bright-yellow dress. So bright it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. That’s how I wanted to remember her.

  Faith, she’d always been the one to wonder more about the accident. But I didn’t want to know. It wasn’t how Momma wanted us to remember her. I didn’t want to remember Daddy like this either. He was such a tall, strong man. But strapped to the gurney, he looked weak and helpless.

  After Momma’s funeral, Daddy hardly spoke, for weeks it seemed like. I knew he needed to grieve, but Faith needed more from him. I could tell that even then she was starting to pull away from him, from this family. Chasing dreams on greener grass. Guess she found that green grass is overrated.

  “He’s coming to,” the EMT said.

  I knelt down in the cramped space. “Daddy? Can you hear me?”

  He mumbled something. I stroked the white bandage on the top of his head. “You took quite a fall. You may be looking at some stitches.”

  “I’m sorry . . .”

  “Don’t say that. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Where’s Faith?”

  I tried to smile. “She’s coming. She wasn’t there when you fell.”

  “Sir, do you remember how you fell?” the EMT asked.

  “No. I don’t remember anything.”

  “He wasn’t feeling well,” I inserted, “after church. Wanted to lie down.”

  “Take a nap,” Dad countered. “Not unusual on a Sunday.”

  “Except when he turns down an opportunity to fish.”

  “I was just tired,” Dad said, looking away.

  “Have you been tired a lot lately?” the EMT asked.

  I looked at Dad. He hesitated, and that hesitation said it all.

  “A little.”

  “It’s just been a tough week or so. Some family things. Probably drained him.”

  The EMT took new vital signs and I watched as the hospital came into view. They pulled into the small circular drive and the rear doors opened. I hopped out, but when I looked back, he was convulsing.

  “Daddy? What’s happening?”

  “Seizure,” the EMT said, gently shoving me to the side as he backed the gurney out of the ambulance. Dad’s whole body was shaking and I only saw the whites of his eyes. His hands were bent inward toward his stomach.

  They wheeled him through the sliding-glass doors and I ran after them. A large metal door opened but a nurse stopped me. “We’ll update you as soon as we can.”

  “But I’m his daughter.”

  The nurse left and I stood there alone, my purse hanging off my arm. My breath kept catching in my throat. I backed away from the door, looked toward the waiting room. Babies’ hot-tempered screams rattled my nerves. Coughing. Sneezing. A swarm of unhappy sick people.

  This was where we stood when Momma came.

  I rushed outside, gulping air, crying out, clinging to my own arms because there was nothing else to cling to. A haze of cigarette smoke lingered by the door. I hurried past it and to the small mound of grass on the other side of the ambulance.

  I collapsed, but my knees never hit the ground. Instead, I was caught up by two strong arms, underneath my own. When I opened my eyes, there she was, her face close to mine, her eyes shining with tears.

  “Faith . . .”

  She stood me up and embraced me. “Come here.”

  34

  FAITH

  “COME ON,” I said, grabbing Olivia’s hand.

  “But—”

  “Come on!” I dragged her through the doors and into the waiting area. The nurse was busy taking the temperature of an uncooperative toddler. “Let’s go,” I whispered.

  I punched the large button that opened the metal door and went through, walking at a brisk pace. Behind me, I heard Olivia following, whispering questions I ignored and comments I didn’t even want to hear.

  Once in, the doctors and nurses all seemed too busy or complacent to notice us. I walked from one ER room to the next, looking for Daddy.

  Then I heard Lee’s voice. “What have we got?”

  “Found unconscious by his daughter. Had a seizure upon arrival.”

  Another voice, this time a male’s: “Blood pressure and pulse are through the roof.”

  “What are the—?” Lee’s words were cut short by something.

  Olivia and I stood at the opening of the room, where a crowd of people flocked around Daddy. I could see Lee clearly through a parting of heads. His expression said it all. He recognized the patient.

  “Do you know him?” a nurse asked.

  Then I heard Dad’s voice and it brought a crashing wave of relief. “Yeah, he knows me. He probably wishes he didn’t.”

  A few chuckled. Lee smiled, but I saw concern in the deep wrinkles of his forehead.

  “Daddy!” Olivia rushed in. A nurse grabbed her, but Lee okayed it with a gesture. He found me standing on the sidelines. He didn’t smile, but his eyes were intense with defiance and resolve.

  “Okay, let’s get to work,” Lee said. “Alice, get the CT guys ready upstairs. We need a look in there ASAP.”

  “Daddy, we’re here for you. Faith’s here too.” Olivia hovered over him.

  “Calvin, we’re going to take great care of you,” Lee said, his voice scrubbed of emotion. Professionalism was kicking in, and that’s where I needed him to be.

  “We’re ready for him upstairs,” Alice said.

  “All right, let’s get him up there,” Lee said. I stepped aside as they rolled him out. Lee glanced at me, but not long enough for me to read his expression.

  In mere seconds, Olivia and I were left alone. Two chairs sat against the wall of the small room and we dropped into them simultaneously. For a long time we didn’t say anything, just listened to the noises around us. I wondered where Lee was. I wondered what Olivia was thinking.

  But we just sat. I was dizzy with emotion and worry. We were offered water by the man who came to mop the floor. I guess we both looked pathetic and parched. We declined.

  Then Olivia moved her purse from her shoulder to her lap. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean those things back at the house. I was just scared.”

  “It’s okay if you did mean them. It’s true. I haven’t been around. I didn’t see the signs.”

  Olivia held a tear against her eye. “It’s just that Daddy doesn’t ever stop. He’s slowing down, sure. But . . .” She tore at the tissue she’d fished from her purse. “That day, Faith, I knew.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I felt something was wrong. The day of Momma’s accident. I couldn’t voice it. I didn’t know what it was. But something didn’t feel right inside of me.” Tears streamed down her face so fast there was no use trying to catch them with her tissue. “And for the rest of my life, I’ve been listening for that to come back. I’ve been afraid that it would. I tried to prepare myself because I didn’t want to ever be caught off guard again. And so I’ve spent most of my life listening to my gut, and maybe that’s why I’ve missed so much of my life.”

  I pulled her close and she laid her head on my shoulder, sobbing into my sleeve. “Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay . . .”

  “Daddy can’t die. He just can’t.”

  I squeezed her shoulder, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Lee’s eyes. I’d seen fear there. I didn’t know why. But I knew we soon would.

  “You know,” I said softly, “Momma always said love was risky. But it’s worth it.”

  “But what if you have to say good-bye?”

  I thought of Dad. I thought of Luke. I thought of the day I left th
is place. The good-byes seemed endless. The thought of saying good-bye permanently to Luke felt like death itself.

  “I guess I never said bye to Momma,” Olivia said, sitting up. She pulled out a picture from her purse. I couldn’t see it as she held it to her chest. “I took care of Daddy and I married Hardy and I had the girls and life just went on.”

  “That’s how Momma would’ve wanted it, Olivia. She wanted us to go live a full life.”

  “My heart aches every day for her.”

  “Mine too.”

  Olivia withdrew the picture from her chest and showed it to me. “You remember this?”

  I took it from her and looked it over. Of course I remembered it. Dad had taken the picture. Mom was wearing her favorite yellow sundress and white lacy sandals. She looked gorgeous.

  “That’s it,” I breathed, the thought slamming me right through my heart.

  “What?” Olivia asked.

  I looked at Olivia, crying myself now, shaking my head at how I could’ve missed it. “That awful painting I bought when Luke and I were . . . It was big and . . . yellow.” I stared at the picture. “That’s what drew me to it. This photograph. Mom wearing her yellow dress. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s why I fell in love with it. It made me feel closer to her.”

  “Every year that passes, she feels farther away from me,” Olivia said. “Sometimes I can’t hear her voice anymore. Or remember how she smelled.”

  “I know.”

  “And I promised myself I would never forget her.”

  “You’re not forgetting her, Liv,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “I see her when I watch you with Nell and Vic. You’re an amazing mother, the way Momma was amazing. You have this grace. This sixth-sense kind of way about you. You just know what to do. You make it seem easy and effortless. You take care of your family the way Momma took care of us. That’s how you are keeping her memory alive.”

  “And you sing just like her.”

  “So she’s in us. Every day, right?”

  Olivia nodded. She sat up a little. “I don’t know much about Luke, Sis. But I bet he’s worth fighting for.”

  Her remark took me by surprise. “Why?”

  “Because he’s deep in your heart.”

  “He lied to me. A big lie. Lies.”

  “I know. But I’ve found the very best things in life are worth the hardest fights. You know Nell caused me thirty-six hours of labor? Sweating like a pig. My back aching. She just wouldn’t come easy. And Vic, well, she was perfect on the birthing side of things. Then she learned to talk and things went south. Stubborn. Moody. Opinionated. Guess she’s got a lot of our dad in her.”

  I laughed. “They’re so adorable. Both of them.”

  “Do you believe God brought you and Luke together?”

  I thought for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind so I could really answer that question. “I think I do. I thought it was hopeless that I could ever find someone like that. He was real, Liv. Unconventional. Courageous. Never swayed by popular opinion. He loved his family but loved me more and made a tremendous sacrifice by marrying me. He still kind of pays for it to this day.”

  “He left a comfortable, easy world so he could be with you. Maybe that’s your anchor.”

  “Anchor?”

  “The thing by which everything else is attached. You gotta start somewhere and work your way back. So start there.”

  The sound of footsteps caused us to look up. Lee rounded the corner into the room, carrying X-rays and a heaviness with him. He turned on the screen and secured the X-rays so we could see them. He took a moment, looking at both of us, letting his doctor’s veil down a bit. His gentle smile was perhaps meant to calm us, but I could do nothing but wait, holding my breath and my sister’s hand.

  Olivia looked stoic. Her back was straight as a board. “How’s he doing? What’s going on?”

  “We’re getting him a room upstairs for observation. I’d like to keep him overnight.”

  “For?” I asked.

  “Okay,” Lee said, rubbing his hands together. “At this point, the test results indicate he has a high-grade astrocytoma.”

  Olivia and I just stared at him.

  “It’s a form of malignant brain tumor.”

  I felt Olivia’s hand go limp in mine. Lee stayed on the other side of the room, gazed at the X-rays, then at us. “Here’s the deal. I’m almost certain that’s what I’m seeing on the CT scan. See? Here. And at a different angle, here. Now, I’m just an ER doctor, so we’re going to need to verify this with a neurosurgeon, but . . .” He sighed, looking at each of us. “It’s pretty textbook.”

  I wasn’t sure what shock was, but all I knew was that I didn’t feel like I was in my own body.

  Lee pointed to the CT scan again. “You can see here in the discolored area the tumor, and the jagged, uneven edges of the mass are classic—”

  “I’ve heard enough. I get it,” I said.

  But Olivia pulled her hand out of mine. “I want to hear it. Tell me everything.”

  I stood, walked to the door, but couldn’t get myself to go out. Lee’s voice faded in and out of the thick dread that silenced nearly everything else around me.

  “The edging is the telltale indicator of malignancy . . . I’d like to refer him to a neuro-oncologist in Wilmington . . . Michael Whalen . . . he specializes in brain cancers . . . we can get Calvin in tomorrow. . . .”

  If I stood there any longer, I was going to vomit.

  Outside, I was cold. Or numb. I wasn’t sure. My fingers were clutched into fists and my fists were balled in my armpits. I stood there in the wind and didn’t cry. Just stood there.

  Below the darkening sky, I felt laid bare by God. Filleted by His hand. My soul screamed to be let from its cage, but there was no way out. It was forced to stay and see and hear and experience the worst life had to offer. The agony was inescapable. Even as I tried to run from it, I could only stand and let it consume me.

  I’m not sure how much time passed. I didn’t even remember the bench on which I found myself sitting now.

  Then a hand.

  I looked up and was surprised to see Lee. He was in his scrubs, rings of sweat around his armpits and his neck. “Hi. May I?”

  I scooted over.

  “I’m very sorry about your dad,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “They’ve made tremendous advances in cancer treatment over the—”

  “Save it,” I sighed. “I don’t want to hear the pep talk.”

  “It’s not a pep talk. It’s the truth.”

  “The truth.” I let that word hang in the air for a moment. Then I said, “You know, Lee, I wonder if things had been different, if . . . you know.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “I mean, we seem to be kindred spirits. There’s an easiness here. But there’s that thing between us. That heavy, horrible thing.”

  Lee looked down, stared at his Reeboks.

  “We’re good at ignoring things.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But how do we get past that thing?”

  Lee leaned back, looking up at the sky as he rested his elbows on the top of the bench. “Why do we need to?”

  “Maybe I need to. For me.”

  “Maybe you do.” He said it knowingly.

  I also leaned back, tried to rest my tense muscles, tried to breathe. There was no going back if it started. Once I asked for the truth, I was going to get it. And I knew from experience that truth could be as painful as lies. But what I’d learned was that the truth never caged you.

  As darkness settled, so did my soul. I looked at Lee. “Okay.”

  He stared at me. “You’re sure?”

  No. I wasn’t sure. But as Momma said, love is risky. And maybe, just maybe, this was an act of love.

  35

  CATHERINE

  NOTHING BUT A PURE AND FIERCE TRUST in God can put a mother’s fears to rest. I’d spend evenings knitting a s
carf while I needled my way through the angst I felt for Olivia. She was awkward and self-conscious. Always had been, since the day she managed to catch her reflection in a mirror. She had a hard time making friends but was loyal to the ones she had. She got her hard edge from Cal and her quick wit from me. I knew she could bulldog her way through life, but I wanted her to glide and fly, too. I don’t think she ever saw herself anywhere else but Columbus County. But then again, neither did I. If she ever wanted to go, I hoped that she would.

  Then there was Faith, who got everything good about me, if there was anything at all. Her voice, younger and fresher, transcended mine every time we sang together, and I loved every second of it. But she peered into the world with wide, frightened eyes. I wanted more gusto from her. I wanted her to take the bull by the horns, to demand life cough up all it had for her.

  The pain was coming and going, but it was distant pain as if my body were miles long and the pain came from the end of the road. It was tolerable and thin if I didn’t choose to notice it.

  Slowly I unwound all the vines that wrapped so tightly around me and anchored me to the girls and Cal. My deep love for them, the kind of love that caused my life to have meaning on this earth, had to stay behind. But as my fingers loosened in their fatigue, there was a gift of peace, an assurance that the God who was taking me away would stay present for the ones I had to leave behind. I felt myself rest beneath my fate. Resign myself to the will of the Father, understanding that the pain in their future would eventually lead them to this same door, but that along the way, all the delights of life would be the hinges on which the door hung.

  I said good-bye in my heart and expected grief, but instead there was hope and light and well-being. Perfect well-being. I would be unable to give them one final message. All that would be left standing were the minutes that I lived on this earth and the hope that I lived them in such a way that I didn’t need to say more.

  I knew suddenly that it was no longer the young man in the ambulance whose hand I held. And like a wave exploding against a rocky ledge, I felt alive, so much so that I wondered how long I might’ve been dead. Pure pleasure that did not exist at all on earth shot through me, except it seemed to have been there all along.