Heart of the Country

by Rene Gutteridge

“Lee, can I call you later? My dad’s back.”

  “Sure.”

  I hung up and hurried over. “Dad! What . . . how are . . . ?”

  He waved me off as he glanced at the driver. “My daughter.”

  “Here, take my hand.”

  He grimaced, then scowled, then took my hand. I could feel his weight against me as we walked into the lobby. “Where have you been?” I asked.

  “Took a ferry, saw the Statue of Liberty.”

  “Good grief, Dad. You had us worried sick.”

  “Didn’t you get my note?”

  “Kind of vague.”

  “Where’s your sister?” He let go of my hand when we got in the elevator and rested against the glass that gave a view of the small restaurant below.

  “Upstairs about to have a cow.”

  “Somehow I knew she’d show up.”

  “And I’m glad she did. You’re a handful without the tumor. Your appointment is in less than an hour.”

  Dad nodded. Had I not seen how sick he looked before? The dark bags under his eyes. The red rims that held them up. The sunken cheeks and the shaky hands. The whole sight broke my heart.

  The elevator opened and three squirrelly kids forgot their manners and bounded in. Dad grinned at them as he walked out, unassisted. He seemed to gain a bit of strength as we made our way back to the room.

  Inside, Olivia paused midstride in what looked like vicious pacing. “Dad! Where have you been?” Her eyes were wide with wonder, her tone strained with concern.

  Dad walked over to the chair by the bed and sat, looking utterly exhausted. “Girls, sit down with me.”

  “Dad, we’ve got to go. Your appointment—”

  I cut Olivia off. “Let’s let him rest for a few minutes.”

  “We can’t be late for this. We barely got you in to see this doctor. The cab driver said it’d take about thirty minutes, if the traffic is good.”

  “Girls. Sit.”

  It was the tone he’d used since our birth to indicate we were to do what we were told. We both sat on the edge of the bed, our hands in our laps, our backs erect.

  Dad took a long moment. Olivia was watching the clock, but I was watching Dad’s eyes. I could tell something wasn’t right.

  Then he looked at us. “I’m going to break your hearts today.”

  Beside me, I felt Olivia hold her breath. I slid my hand under hers.

  “Daddy, what are you talking about?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m not going to get the treatment.”

  I looked at Olivia. Both our eyes watered. “But, Daddy,” Olivia said, “we don’t even know what the treatment is yet. That’s why we’re here, to see what—”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” he said softly. He looked at me, then at Olivia, then at his hands. “I miss your momma.”

  I put a hand over my mouth to keep the sobs in, because there is nothing like seeing your own daddy weep. The tears streaming down his cheeks were like knives cutting through me.

  “I know it must sound crazy to you. You’re young, full of life, lots more life to live, but I’m okay with saying good-bye.”

  “Daddy, no . . .” Olivia had dropped to her knees, right by his feet. “No, you can’t leave us.”

  “I can,” he said, smiling through the tears. “The two of you will be okay. Now you have each other, and your families, and you’re going to be just fine. Both of you.” He looked squarely at me because he knew in my heart I was certain I would never be fine.

  He took Olivia’s cheek into his hand, and then I slid to the floor, by his knee, and wept, too. He pulled his fingers through our hair. “Hey, now, I’m not dead yet. I have a few good months left in me.”

  “It’s not fair,” Olivia said.

  He smiled. “What? That I get to see Momma first?” His voice turned low and soothing. “I will always be with you, in your hearts. I promise. And we’ll see each other again.”

  We laid our heads on his knees for a long time, and then Daddy, who always knew just what to say, lifted our heads. “Okay. Who’s up for one of those greasy vendor hot dogs?”

  I laughed but ached terribly. I remembered something Momma told me when I was very young. A rose is beautiful, but when it is crushed, the fragrance bursts out of it and you discover beauty you never knew it had. Every chance I got, I’d take a rose, crush it under my foot, then get down on my belly and let its smell envelop me. I’d close my eyes, lay my head sideways on the cement, and just breathe.

  Momma was trying to tell me something I wouldn’t understand for a long time. But she knew someday I would be crushed, and I am certain she hoped that I would remember the beauty in it.

  59

  LUKE

  THERE WAS NO FANFARE as I walked up the courthouse steps. I was totally alone. It felt weirdly empowering because I knew I was pulling up my bootstraps, as Calvin had put it.

  I hadn’t told Dad and Jake. I knew they’d be both proud and conflicted, and I didn’t want to put them in that position. So instead, I called on God.

  In my briefcase there was only one document, but I carried it like it held the codes to nuclear bombs. It was my own personal nuclear bomb.

  I’d requested we meet in the same room as before because this was my first of many full-circle moments. Right here, right now, I was going to start real change. If I could do this, I was pretty sure I could do anything.

  But my legs were shaky underneath me, and I found myself a little apprehensive as I opened the door to the room. I had hoped I’d be the first there, but instead, the prosecutor whose bushy mustache greeted me before he did sat there waiting on me. He stood and shook my hand. “Mr. Carraday.”

  “Mr. Everett.”

  We both sat.

  “I was very surprised to get your phone call. As requested, I kept it confidential. But why all the secrecy?”

  I opened my briefcase and pulled out a folder, sliding it toward him. “I didn’t earn this immunity.”

  Everett looked at the paper, then at me. I figured there were very few things that shocked a prosecutor, but I’d found one.

  “But,” I continued, “I will take your plea bargain.”

  “You’re serious . . .”

  “I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know.”

  And so I did. For two hours, I answered his questions, staring mostly at the little silver recorder that sat between us on the table. Even as I spoke and answered questions, it confirmed to me that I was unknowingly involved, and maybe that’s what I needed to hear. But it also confirmed that when the rumors started, I should’ve sought the truth. My other mistake was trying to hide it all from Faith, and she would be my next thing to make right. But first things first. I had to set my life in order before I could set ours.

  I had absolutely no idea what this meant for my future. But Calvin told me that the truth would set me free, and that no matter what, my character and integrity could recover from this if I took responsibility for the things I had done.

  I dreaded the conversation I was going to have to have with my father and brother, but I knew deep inside they’d be proud of what I’d done. I wasn’t going to be a runner anymore. If I had to run, I’d run to my family. And I hoped that family included Faith. I didn’t just hope. I prayed.

  60

  OLIVIA

  FOR MID-NOVEMBER, it was considerably warmer than usual. The clouds parted and the sparkly sun was high in the sky. We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day.

  Faith was putting the final touches on Silver, brushing his mane and tail, determined to bring back that silky shine he used to have when he was younger. Silver watched me from the side, blinking kindly at me, like he knew it was his day.

  Dad stood nearby, relishing the moment. Even his head was tipped up a little, soaking in the rare November warmth. I’d dressed him in his favorite flannel shirt. He looked like he wanted to sell me a roll of paper towels, but that’s how he liked to look. I couldn’t talk him into his bolo. But I ga
ve a nice trim to his hair.

  “Looking good,” Dad said, gesturing with the hand that didn’t hold his cane. His words were slurred, just enough to be noticeable even to the girls. Nell glanced up at me, her eyes wide with worry.

  “It’s okay. He’s doing fine.” I said it with as much conviction as I could muster, but the lump came, as it did frequently these days, and I couldn’t say much more. Instead, I patted her shoulder and tried to enjoy the day.

  Down the long driveway, a cloud of dust circled Lee’s truck as he pulled the horse trailer.

  “Lee’s here!” Vic said, running to meet him.

  “Vic, stay back. Be careful.” I sighed. I wondered if there was ever going to be a time in my life when I would be free of worry.

  Lee slowed as he saw Vic, then parked the truck, getting out. He gave a long wave to us and a quick hug to Vic.

  He ambled up, his thumbs locked around his belt loops, evidence that even if you leave for the big city, the country never leaves you. He joined me at the fence, leaning over the wood. “Look at you, Silver!”

  Faith glanced up and smiled at Lee, but it was the cautious smile of a woman who’d decided to play everything safe. We’d spent hours on my back porch talking about it. I told her that if Lee was the one, then there was no use rushing things. He’d be there when the time was right.

  My sister didn’t need a man in her life right now. She had a lot of healing to do, and the only thing I could do was be there for her when she needed me.

  Looking forward to the fair had been a healing balm for all of us. It gave Dad a goal. We all knew he wouldn’t miss seeing Silver shown at the fair. Not even a tumor could stop that. He’d started having trouble with his right arm and leg, and I knew things were shutting down, but each day he grabbed every ounce of happiness he could, squeezed the lemon dry like he was trying to make a big batch of lemonade.

  “He ready?” Lee asked.

  Faith stood. “I think he’s going to protest if I brush him one more time.”

  Lee opened the gate and took Silver’s reins. He guided him confidently, whispering calm into him as he led him onto the trailer.

  “It’s been ages since he’s been in a trailer,” Dad said, trying to get Lee’s attention. “Keep him steady.”

  “He’s doing great,” Lee said. He shut the door behind Silver, then checked his watch. “All right, we don’t want to be late for his big day. I can hold a couple of people in my truck.”

  “Me! Can I go, Momma?” Vic shouted, even though she was standing right next to me.

  “Sure,” I said, and she ran toward the truck.

  “Me too?” Nell asked.

  “Let’s let Aunt Faith ride up there with, um . . . Silver. So he’ll stay calm.”

  “Good idea.”

  “We’ll ride with Grandpa.”

  “Okay!”

  I took Dad’s arm. Hardy was on the other side. He grumbled about not needing help but couldn’t even get in the truck by himself. Nobody wanted to stare, but we all held our breath as he struggled to get in.

  Then he smiled at all of us, that wild and wide kind of smile that kids get when their tummies are tickled on a tire swing. “It’s a good day.”

  “It is, Daddy,” Faith said as I slipped my hand into hers. “A very good day.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we were unloading Silver. Dad, Hardy, and Lee took him to the stables and the girls tagged along. Faith and I went to get Silver registered.

  My eyes widened with the nostalgia of it all. I hadn’t been to the fair since Momma died, despite my kids wanting desperately to go every year. Nearby, a man in white-and-red stripes called out, selling peanuts. Children rushed by, clutching plastic baggies with goldfish in them. A teenager nearly knocked us over as she tried to maneuver through the crowds with a gigantic giraffe she’d apparently won at one of the games. I looked at Faith. I knew the memories were overwhelming her, too. But we both smiled, knowing that soon memories would be all we’d have of our parents, and we were going to have to be okay with that.

  “Do you ever feel old?” she asked me. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived two lifetimes already.”

  “You’re more beautiful than ever.” I winked at her. “And Lee sure is taking notice.”

  “Stop.”

  “He is.”

  “Train wrecks are hard not to notice.”

  “I guess you haven’t heard from him.”

  “Just that one text, saying he was taking care of things. I’m still assuming that means he’s drawing up divorce papers.” She teared up. “That will be the worst day of my life.”

  “Well, it’s not here yet. God can always work a miracle, you know.”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes.

  “Anyway, Lee’s a good guy. I’ve been watching him like a hawk, the way only a big sister can. He’s a stand-up guy.”

  We found the registration table and stepped into line. Faith was staring upward, blissfully, as if she expected the sky to come down and kiss her.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re . . . staring at the air.”

  “The sky.”

  “The ozone layer?”

  “I feel like something really good is going to happen today.”

  I tried to keep it in, but Faith was always the dreamer, and she had this enormous habit of getting her hopes dashed.

  “Faith, you know it’s highly unlikely that Silver is going to win, right? He’s ancient. He walks with a limp.”

  “Magic happens.”

  Oh, boy. Well, I’d pick her up off the floor later, along with Vic and Nell, who were both certain he’d not only place, but get first. We’d have one big cry fest over some corn dogs and cheese fries.

  Whatever happened, we had Daddy for one more day, and that was good enough for me.

  61

  FAITH

  ALONG WITH THE HEARTY CLAPS of the crowd came squeals of delight from Vic and Nell, who were jumping up and down and bumping into everybody around them. Dad was standing next to Silver and looked as shocked as anyone, like maybe he hadn’t heard right. I wished I’d had a camera to capture his expression.

  I glanced at Lee, who was clapping as hard as anyone, then gave Dad the fist pump.

  “Wow!” He practically slapped me on the back like we were teammates. “Silver was amazing! He didn’t even limp. Did you notice it? It was like he knew this was his day, his moment. First place! Unbelievable!”

  Silver had always been special, in an intuitive sort of way. I was sure he knew Dad was sick, probably long before any of us did. And he probably knew that this memory would serve us well over the coming years too.

  As Dad accepted the congratulating handshakes of the people around us, I turned to Lee and pulled a small sack out of my bag. I handed it to him. “This is for you.”

  He reached into the bag. I was a little giddy with excitement.

  “A vintage playbill for West Side Story,” I exclaimed before he even had a chance to get it all the way out of the bag.

  He looked surprised as he admired it for a moment. “Wow. What is this for?”

  “I never thanked you.”

  “For what?”

  “Getting Daddy into Sloan.”

  The delight on Lee’s face faded.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Luke. Or at least someone in his family.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He must have swallowed his pride, gone back to his father . . .”

  “I . . .”

  “Didn’t know. I’m sorry. I just assumed you did.”

  I pushed a cheery expression back onto my face. “Well then, that’s for all the other amazing things you’ve done for my family. And for me. I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said gently.

  I looked carefully at this
man, who’d been such a great comfort to me since I’d returned. He deserved way better than a woman who already had her heart tied up in a big, messy knot.

  “Lee, I might’ve given you the wrong impression. I believe I gave myself the wrong impression. Others too.”

  He tried to interpret what I was saying, his eyes searching mine. “Impression about what?”

  “That I wasn’t going to fight for my marriage. I’ve realized that I have to. If it doesn’t work out in the end, then it doesn’t. But I have to give it as good of a fight as I can. That’s what my momma would’ve done. I don’t know if Luke will fight for me, but I have to fight for him.”

  “Faith!” I turned to find Daddy waving me down, beckoning me into the small arena. “Pictures!”

  “I guess I better go get my picture made with the star of the show.” I touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “For the record,” Lee said with that gentle, likable smile, “you always gave me the impression that you could handle whatever life threw at you, and it’s thrown a heck of a lot.”

  “Thanks.” We stared at each other for a moment. Was I throwing away a chance at a rooted, grounded life with a guy not unlike my daddy? I crawled through the rope fence and met Dad in the middle, my heart a little heavy with what might be before me. Hardy was snapping pictures like we were both standing by the NASCAR Cup winner or something. I squeezed Daddy tightly around the waist.

  “Hey, I want to show you something. Walk with me?”

  “Sure.”

  Daddy waved Hardy over to take Silver back to the stables, and he guided me through the crowds and into the streaming lines of the fair. We walked slowly, both relishing the time.

  Suddenly Daddy pulled me aside and whipped out a five. “New York might have their pretzels, but we have our cotton candy.”

  “Pink?”

  “You got it.”

  It was puffy like the clouds over us, and it tasted like pure delight, which was what we all had before Momma died. I guess we knew pure delight couldn’t last, but we always hoped for more and relished it when it was around.

  “My fingers are sticky,” I laughed.