Where My Heart Belongs

by Tracie Peterson

  Sunny popped the tape into the player and sat down on an overturned metal milk crate. She remembered her mother saying she had saved it from her childhood days, when the milk was delivered to her home in town. Her mother had boasted about learning to iron clothes at the age of five by standing on this very crate. The memory made Sunny smile.

  Drawing a deep breath and praying for strength, Sunny pressed the play button. For several seconds there was nothing but silence, and then she heard the voice of her sister.

  “Okay, Mom, it’s recording. Just talk normal—as if you were talking to me.”

  Another pause, and then the sound of her mother filled the room. “Sunshine, I don’t know when you’ll get this tape, but I probably won’t be here. I’m very sick. My heart has been damaged beyond repair, and I’ve deteriorated faster than they thought I would. My heart broke when you went away, so it didn’t surprise me when the doctor told me I’d suffered a heart attack.

  “Oh, Amy—I mean Sunshine—how I wish you were here. I want so much to know you’re safe and happy. I look at the moon at night and wonder if you’re seeing it too. Sometimes it makes me feel closer to you, but other times it just makes me feel very alone.”

  Tears streamed down Sunny’s face. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth on the crate. How wonderful to hear her mother’s voice. Weak, but recognizable, it comforted Sunny in a way nothing else could. To her surprise, however, she thought her mother sounded a lot like Kathy.

  “I wanted to make you this tape for several reasons,” her mother went on. “I wanted you to know how very much I love you. Nothing will change that. My love for you is something that will never end. If you ever have children, you’ll know what I mean. There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

  There was a pause for several seconds. Empty air that settled down around Sunny like a smothering blanket. Surely that wasn’t all there was to the tape. Kathy had said she’d made it over two weeks. Sunny was about to reach for the player when her mother spoke again.

  “Sunshine, no matter what anyone says—no matter what they do—I want you to know that I forgive you for everything. You aren’t totally to blame. I failed you in so many ways.”

  “No!” Sunny interjected before realizing no one could hear her.

  “There were things I should have done better—choices I should have made and didn’t, and some I made and shouldn’t have. If you’re still the tenderhearted girl I knew you to be, you’ll probably try to blame yourself for what happened to me—but you can’t. My choices put me here. I let the situation destroy me. I could have been strong like Dad and Kathy, but it took too much energy. I should have trusted God more. I see that now. I should have left it in His hands, knowing that He knew where you were and what you were doing. I should have put my sorrows and pain at His feet, because I knew He was bigger—more powerful than anything that could happen or had happened. And besides . . . we all have to die sometime. The doctor says I probably always had problems with my heart and just didn’t know it. I had a bout of rheumatic fever when I was very young and it no doubt weakened my heart forever.

  “My sweet girl, I love you so much. I have a peace now about you. I know you’ll be back. Maybe not right away, but someday. Because I know that tender heart will always be there somewhere inside you. Someday you’ll come face-to-face with the need to make peace with your family, and when you do, this tape will be here waiting for you. I forgive you, Amy. I can only hope—pray—that you forgive me as well.”

  The rest of the tape was more of the same interlaced with a few stories—reminders of the past. By the time the tape concluded, Sunny realized a half hour had passed. In her heart, however, it seemed the tape had spanned twelve years.

  NINE

  SUNNY HAD JUST COME OUT onto the porch when a blue Suburban drove up and stopped near the house. A woman stepped out. She was tall and slender, dressed in jeans and a sleeveless pink blouse. Her blond hair had been cut in a stylish manner to frame her face—a face that wore very little makeup but seemed radiant.

  “I came to see Kathy,” the woman announced, “but I’m glad to see you as well. Do you remember me?”

  She smiled broadly and Sunny saw something familiar in her expression. “Sylvia?”

  “The one and only. How are you doing?”

  Sunny shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess.” She wasn’t sure if Sylvia’s comments would take a negative turn, so she remained guarded. “It’s hard to see Dad like this, but I’m glad I have the chance to say good-bye.”

  Sylvia nodded. “And what about Kathy? Are you two able to talk and work through the past?”

  Sunny came down the porch stairs. “Not really.”

  “This is a shock to her. You have to keep that in mind.”

  Sunny sighed, glad to have someone to talk to even if things might take a bad turn. “I wish I could wave some kind of magic wand and have her understand my heart and my desire to make things right. I wish she could just see the truth of the situation and stop being so . . . so . . . defensive.” ‘

  ‘Yes, well . . . you really don’t have a right to expect that, now do you?” Sylvia’s words weren’t harsh or angry; they were simply stated in a matter-of-fact manner that gave Sunny pause.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Sylvia tilted her head as if sizing up Sunny’s sincerity. “When we do something that hurts people, we always wish they would come to a quick understanding and immediate healing. That way we can feel better about ourselves as well.” She gave a slight chuckle. “Believe me, I know. I’ve done enough things that hurt others and I always want them to get over it as quick as possible, so that I can forget that I ever had a hand in it.”

  Sunny liked Sylvia’s frankness. She was truthful without trying to wound. “I know it would be so much easier to be here if Kathy’s response had been like Dad’s. The thing is, maybe I crave Kathy’s approval or forgiveness even more than I did his.”

  “Why?”

  Sunny frowned. “Because we were always so close. Even when I was going through my stupid phases, I always talked things out with Kathy. She knew I wasn’t happy in Kansas— Slocum. She knew I longed to go elsewhere, but I never told her about my plans to change my name and leave.”

  “I’m sure that must have hurt her.”

  “In all the time I was gone, it was Kathy I missed the most. There were so many times just after I left that I would reach for the phone to call her.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I guess I was afraid. I knew she’d probably have the power to convince me to come home—and I just couldn’t do that, Sylvia. I was dying there—here. I knew if I stayed I would marry one of the guys I hung around with and we’d probably drink a lot and fight a lot.” Sunny shook her head and smiled at the irony. “I guess it wouldn’t have been any worse than what I put myself through.”

  “Sometimes that’s how it is. But in all honesty, I think Kathy is just trying to process everything and deal with the shock. We gave you up for dead, Sunny.”

  “I was dead. Completely dead until I came back to God. Funny how I always took my church upbringing for granted. I didn’t think I needed God. But as for Kathy, I know she blames me for a great deal, and rightfully so on some of it. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I had no right to treat my family that way. Yesterday I listened to a tape my mother left for me. It was wonderful to hear her voice and forgiveness, but difficult because my mother blamed herself for so much, and I couldn’t be there to help her change her mind.”

  “We all have to work on our own minds. People can offer convincing arguments that help us, but ultimately we have control over what we think and feel.”

  Sunny hesitated a moment, then decided Sylvia would be the best one to ask about the farm. “Say, I was wondering . . . do you know what’s going on with the farm?”

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “I mean, is there
a problem with it selling?”

  Sylvia nodded, her expression immediately registering understanding. “Kathy hasn’t told you?”

  “No. I mentioned it, but she didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s a sore subject. One that is really starting to worry her. I suppose I shouldn’t be the one to talk about it. I wouldn’t want Kathy to think I was betraying her trust.”

  “I swear I won’t say a word to her about it. I just wanted to know what was going on.”

  “The farm has been on the market since earlier this spring. Kathy had tried to convince your dad to sell a long time ago and to move with her to Colorado Springs. But he didn’t want to go. He was convinced he’d get better and be able to continue farming. Of course, that didn’t happen, and by the time he started feeling poorly again, the market had changed and it’s been harder to sell farms in this area.”

  “But it hasn’t been on the market all that long. Surely no one is too worried at this point.”

  “You need to understand something.” Sylvia looked around, as if to see if anyone might overhear. “There are problems financially.”

  “I saw the car,” Kathy said as she came around the corner of the house.

  Sylvia smiled and dropped the subject of the farm. “Sunny was just coming outside when I arrived. I thought it’d be a great chance to get to know her again.”

  Sunny could see that Kathy felt uncomfortable and decided to give her some space. She wanted to know more about the financial problems, but she supposed she wasn’t going to get any answers at this point. “Well, I need to run into town. That’s where I was headed when Sylvia arrived. Kathy, I saw we were out of milk. Do you know if we need anything else?”

  “There’s the stuff we planned to get in Hays.”

  “I could go ahead and drive over today. Dad’s asleep, so it seems a good time. I’ll just do that.”

  Kathy nodded and Sylvia held up her hand. “Could you pick up a couple of things for me too?”

  Sunny smiled. She remembered that in the old days whenever someone was heading to the bigger city, there was always a request from someone to pick up things for them as well. “I’d be happy to. Do you have a list?”

  “Nope, but it’ll just take a jiffy.” She hurried to the Suburban and climbed inside.

  “You sure you feel like doing this?” Kathy asked.

  Sunny nodded and grinned. “It’ll give me a chance to be in air-conditioning.”

  Sylvia returned with the list and handed it over with a twenty-dollar bill. “I think this should cover everything, but if not, just keep the receipt and I’ll make it right with you.”

  “No problem.” For the kindness Sylvia had shown her, Sunny would have happily bought every item on the list at her own expense. “I’ll be back by supper.”

  Sunny got in the car and looked at Sylvia’s list. Several items were listed that Sunny knew would be hard to find in Slocum. And at the bottom a hastily jotted note said, We can talk about it later.

  Sunny tucked the note into her pocket. Apparently there was a whole lot more to this situation than she knew about.

  With Sunny gone for the day, Kathy felt that she could relax a bit. There was no need to carry any pretenses with Sylvia. The woman could read her like a book anyway.

  “So what does Sunny think about you selling the farm?” Sylvia asked as they walked toward the chicken coop.

  Kathy tensed at the question. “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to her much about it.”

  “Does she know about the finances?”

  “Why should she? She hasn’t been here to worry about it.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  Kathy was grateful to change the subject. “In a lot of pain. Well, I hope it’s less now. The doctor doubled his painkillers. He doesn’t want to put him on morphine just yet— mainly because Dad doesn’t want it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Says he wants to be as coherent as possible for as long as he can. He wants to be able to talk to me and Sunny . . . and anyone else who visits. He says once he’s in heaven, he won’t hurt anymore and it seems a small price to pay. It seems huge to me.”

  “How are things going with Sunny and your dad?”

  Kathy stopped walking at this question. “He’s definitely happy. I guess I can be glad about that. I’m still awfully confused by her. She’s changed a lot, but I guess I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

  “Seems like it’s good,” Sylvia offered. “I mean she cared enough to come back and try to make amends.”

  “How do you make amends for something like what she did? She left our parents to believe she was dead.”

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  “I have to. It’s the truth. She could have called or dropped a postcard at any time. She didn’t need to remain silent all those years. It really hurt them . . . and me.”

  Sylvia put her arm around Kathy’s shoulders. “I know it did.”

  Kathy felt her tears come unbidden. “I thought she was dead. Remember, we even had our own little memorial service when I decided I had to let Amy go and stop waiting for her to call—to come home.”

  “I do remember—it’s only been a couple of years. But, Kathy, she’s not dead. She’s here and she’s probably hurting as much as you are. She told me that the separation of her family was hard on her, but probably worst of all was losing you.”

  “Me?” Kathy couldn’t imagine that was true.

  “I probably shouldn’t say this, but that’s what she told me. Kathy, I really think you have a chance here to fix something that should never have been broken. But it’s up to you.”

  Kathy stiffened. “Why? Why is it always up to me? Why can’t it be somebody else’s responsibility for once?”

  “It’s going to take both of you being responsible,” Sylvia said softly. “You know it works that way, even if you don’t want to face up to it just yet. And after all, Sunny has taken the first step. She’s exposed herself to the ridicule and retribution that she knows she deserves. She’s made herself very vulnerable to everyone.”

  Kathy walked to the chicken yard and opened the gate. Sylvia passed quickly into the yard and waited for Kathy to secure the latch. In her heart, Kathy knew that Sylvia was making a good point. What was most frustrating was that even Sunny had been making good points. Dad wanted his daughters to make peace and to lean on each other, but Kathy was the one holding out. She knew that now, but she still felt incapable of doing anything about it.

  Kathy looked at her friend and frowned. “She could have let us know that she was all right. Even if she didn’t want to talk to us or be a part of our family—she could have sent even the shortest note to say ‘I’m alive and well.’ It would have taken very little time and very little money.”

  “True,” Sylvia agreed but offered nothing more.

  “If she would have at least called collect, Dad would have accepted the charges in a heartbeat. If she’d called soon enough, we could have told her about Mom.” Kathy measured out feed for the hens and fought to regain control of her emotions.

  “Kathy, all of this is true, but it’s in the past. Do you plan to punish her for it for the rest of her life?”

  Dabbing her eyes with the tail of her work shirt, Kathy considered the question. Was that what this was all about— punishing Sunny for what she’d done?

  “Look,” Sylvia said, “I think you and Sunny need to sit down and talk. Really talk. You need to be honest, even if it makes you more vulnerable than you’re comfortable with. If you don’t do this, Kathy, I have a feeling you will always regret it. It’s your choice.”

  “Everybody keeps saying that. Sunny said I made choices that kept me here—that it wasn’t her fault that I chose to give up Kyle and marriage. You said something similar yourself once.” Kathy felt her anger return and tighten around her like a warrior’s belt. “But I never felt like I had any say over the matter. I wasn’t like Sunny. I couldn’t just walk away, no m
atter how many times I considered it.”

  “But you could have, and that’s where you aren’t being honest with yourself. You had the same choice, but you took a different path. What people thought of you mattered. What you thought of yourself mattered too. You knew if you walked away you couldn’t live with the consequences. Sunny didn’t have the same feeling.”

  “Obviously not.” She turned and started toward the gate, but Sylvia reached out to take hold of her arm.

  “Please hear me. I’m not trying to hurt you or cause you more pain, but Sunny’s choices don’t make her completely wrong, just like your choices don’t make you completely right. Sunny went about things in the wrong way—but she was of age and your father gave her the money she had coming to her.”

  “She took it twice. Don’t forget she took the advance he gave her on her trust fund, and when she was twenty-one, she arranged to steal the money that was still in the bank under hers and Dad’s names. Only then, because she was of age, she could have it without question. She stole money that wasn’t hers to take.”

  “Be that as it may, as I said, Sunny didn’t do everything wrong or right. She lived her life the way she thought she could deal with it. You did the same thing, Kathy. Don’t think there weren’t people who questioned your judgment just as they did Sunny’s.”

  Kathy shook off Sylvia’s hold. “But why would they? I did what I could. I stayed here where I knew I could be useful. I remained in my father’s house to care for my mother and now for him.”

  “Which are admirable choices, but you’re ruining your deeds by allowing bitterness to take over. Instead of rejoicing that you got to be here—to share time with your mother up until the end, you’re angry because Sunny wasn’t here. You have something she can never have. You had those last few years—those tender quiet moments—those shared times of sorrow. Sunny has none of that. She probably never even imagined it possible that her mother was dead, much less that she’d find her father ill as well.”

  “But that’s what she gets for not keeping in touch,” Kathy said, folding her arms. “It’s the consequence of turning her back on us.”