Heart of the Country (12 page)

29

I
WAS FINGERING
through some music when I heard her voice. There she was, inching forward like a frightened mouse. Choir members, all of whom were over seventy, swarmed to her in greeting. I glanced at Dad.

“Pretty amazing she’s here,” I said. “And you too, you old geezer.”

Dad laughed. “Are you kidding me? I’m practically the youngest one here.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” I watched Faith hug and smile. “Well, we certainly can use her. We need a good, strong voice.” I patted Dad on the shoulder. “Just please remember
not to belt it out. When Essie Mae says belt it out, it means everyone but you.”

“I’ve been practicing all week.” Dad beamed, and I gave him a side hug. I’d never met anyone who had such a terrible voice, with such a terribly strong urge to use it loudly.

As if she parted her own Red Sea, Faith walked through the small crowd and toward the church stage. “Hi, Olivia.”

“Hi there. Welcome.” I smiled as best I could, especially in front of Daddy. The last thing he needed was to hear us squabble.

“Dad encouraged me to take a step, so this is it,” she said, her arms swinging nervously by her sides.

“Super. This choir can always use an extra voice, but it’s nice when it’s an extraspecial voice like yours.”

“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

“I’m no music expert. Just a faithful parishioner.” Didn’t mean for that to sting so much, but I guess it did. She looked down, and I was kind of sorry for it. Wasn’t implying anything, though it’s not my fault it’s the truth. “Well, we best be getting lined up here. Essie Mae never accounts for the fifteen minutes she allows everyone to visit and catch up, which always baffled me because there’s plenty of time catching up at the grocery store. Heck, we all live within a square mile of one another. What is there really to catch up about?” I glanced at her. “Except you.” A wink helped that go down. I patted her on the shoulder. “Come on, you can stand next to me. I don’t want Dad by me. Last time he joined the choir, my right eardrum never recovered.”

Faith followed me up the carpeted steps. “You’ve always been so funny.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and I had to admit, it was kind of nice. Way better than that mopey, poor-me business we’d been seeing since she arrived.

We stood next to each other and watched the other choir members file in, trying not to trip each other with their canes and walkers. Dad ended up on the end and looked a little disappointed he wasn’t next to us, and Faith and I pretended to be disappointed too, waving at him. Unfortunately, landing on the other side of me was Betsy Cook, whose breath could cook a side of beef. Why I bothered with this silly choir I didn’t know.

Well, I kind of did know. Nobody in the family knew this, but I always had a dream of singing. I never had that “wow” type of voice like Momma and Faith, but I held my own, and actually it had a nice tonal quality to it. But unlike Faith, I was fulfilled just serving the church with my voice. Didn’t need all that fancy education and the bright lights and such. Unless you’ve sung in a Christmas cantata, you just don’t know what you’re missing.

But to each his own. Faith always needed more. She always had the more gaudy Halloween costume. And the fancier prom dress.

Essie Mae began our warm-up, and Faith cut her eyes sideways to me. “Ouch,” she whispered. “This is how they sound all the time?”

“Only on the good days,” I said, cracking a smile. It kind of felt like old times.

Essie Mae announced our song list for Sunday, including “How Great Thou Art.”

“Oh, boy,” I said, leaning forward to glance at Dad. “That one’s his favorite.”

“Yeah . . . he’s not going to be able to contain himself.”

It was four words into the first stanza that we proved ourselves right. Concern was visible on Essie Mae’s face by the time “I hear the rolling thunder” boomed loud enough to nearly rattle the stained glass.

But even Dad’s big voice didn’t seem to outperform Faith’s. It’s like it floated above everything else in the room, like it was the instrument by which all other instruments were tuned. Every voice found its footing beneath hers, and the harmony was so marvelous, I actually got a little choked up myself. We hadn’t sounded that good in years.

Essie Mae was having the time of her life, her hands running up and down those keys like she’d never suffered a day of arthritis. I looked down the rows and the old women were swaying and shifting and a few were raising their hands. This must have been what one of those old-time revivals felt like.

Faith had closed her eyes, but I had a feeling she wasn’t missing a thing. This was her element. We all knew it. She knew it. And in my opinion, this was where she was supposed to be. Right here at home. I didn’t say it at the time, but I always knew Faith wasn’t ready for the world that was waiting for her out there. She couldn’t be. All she’d ever known was this place. It was all any of us had ever known.

Essie Mae was tearing it up on that piano. “Uh-huh . . . yep . . . that’s it, darlings. Belt it!”

Our voices might’ve shook the walls of the church. I wondered if they could hear us across the road at Bernie’s store.

Essie Mae was fanning herself when we finished. “Ohhhh, that was like cool water on a hot, steamy evening. . . .” She tapped her pencil on the piano. “Everyone, indulge me for a minute, will ya? I just want to try something. It’s been oh so long since we’ve sung this. Many of you will remember it.”

As soon as I heard the first note, I knew it. I never thought it had a place in church, but Essie Mae always liked all those worldly songs. I growled under my breath, trying to avoid Faith’s wide, panicked eyes.

“Calm down,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”

It was a song, for crying out loud. I glanced at Dad, who had the same panic-stricken look on his face. Oh, brother. I faced Faith. “You know how much Essie Mae loved hearing you sing this. You and Momma. She’s an old lady. She could be dead in twenty-eight minutes. Just see what you can do, you know what I mean?”

“It was their song,” Faith whispered. I hated when she whispered. That meant she was about to cry. She looked at me. Sure enough, gigantic tears were welling in her eyes. “And mine and Luke’s.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, do the best you can.”

She nodded. I didn’t know what else to say. Faith started singing and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight
up. She sounded just like Momma. I closed my eyes. It took me straight back to a time in my life when I thought nothing could ever go wrong.

I remember sneaking into the living room late one night. I had every intention of going to the kitchen to steal a cookie or three but was stopped in my tracks watching Momma and Daddy dance to this song. Momma giggled. Daddy twirled her like he knew what he was doing. But it was the moment when she laid her head on his shoulder and sang to him that caused me to drop to my knees and watch with great intensity.

It was true love and I knew it. She sang like an angel and it was one of those times that is etched not just into your mind, but into your soul too.

Hearing Faith sing was like I was right there in the living room, hidden by a table and a doorframe. There was something about Momma that you just couldn’t put your finger on. She was magic and hope and warmth and goodness all wrapped into one. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but her kindness radiated as brightly as her persona.

I was pretty young when I realized you either have it or you don’t, and there’s nothing you can do to get what Momma had. I stopped wishing for it when I got married and had kids, because by then I knew that I didn’t have it and never would. I had other things to deal with . . . Daddy and his grief, newborn babies, bills to pay, life to live.

Besides, it had already been handed out.

Suddenly the song stopped, like all the words had crashed into a brick wall.

I opened my eyes to see Faith carefully pushing through the elderly people and down the front of the platform. “I’m sorry,” she said as she rushed past Essie Mae.

Everyone started murmuring. I looked at Dad, who was making his way down. I scooted past everyone and followed him.

Essie Mae was getting up from the piano, her poor face filled with regret. “Calvin, I’m sorry,” she said.

Dad put a gentle arm on her shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s just not ready for that.”

“Her momma used to sing it just like that. It was like seeing a ghost.”

I watched Daddy’s expression flicker like a slight breeze passing over a flame. Grief. Sorrow. All the things that I’d worked so hard to dig him out of. He turned like he was going to chase Faith out the door.

“Dad, she’s okay. Let’s give her a moment.” I had to put it that way, for Dad’s sake. But what I really wanted to say was that I was afraid she was going to sink and bring us and the whole community down with her. Because what I knew to be true was that she was revered in this county. Like the heartbeat to its dim life. I patted Dad on the arm. “She’ll be okay. You know, just needs to get some of this stuff out.”

Dad nodded, gazing toward the door. “I guess you’re right.”

“You okay?”

“Sure,” he said with a smile, except I knew he wasn’t.

“Maybe the two of you can talk later?”

“Yes, that’s best,” Dad said.

“Okay.” I gave him a hug and turned to Essie Mae. “Should we get on with it, then?”

30

I
STOOD UNDER A TREE,
letting the cold breeze blow the tears off my cheeks and hating myself. Loathing myself. Why couldn’t I just sing that stupid song? Why did every little thing cause me to emotionally collapse?

I knew Essie Mae didn’t mean anything by it. It was practically the community’s theme song. Everyone loved when Momma sang it. Everyone loved when we’d sing it together. For all of them, it held good memories.

And I wished, for the life of me, that it held only good ones for me, too. But with all those memories came the burden of my reality. And reality was something I was having such a hard time facing.

“Hey.”

I looked up, putting my hand on my chest. I thought I was alone.

“I’d ask if you are okay, but I can see that you aren’t.” Lee’s gym shorts and the basketball under his arm told me where he was headed.

Tears fell though I willed them not to. “I’m sorry,” I said, facing the wind again. “Just having a . . . moment. We have to stop meeting like this.” I tried a grin that crashed and burned into a grimace.

He leaned against the tree, crossed his arms. “You know, when I was in New York, I was engaged.”

“You were? I hadn’t heard.”

“Her name was Isabel. We had this amazing relationship. Best of friends. She was studying to become a thoracic surgeon. We spent all our time together.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said with a gentle smile.

“It was. It was perfect. Or so I thought. But turned out not perfect enough for her. Six weeks before our wedding, she dumped me. Had somebody better lined up.”

“Oh . . . wow. Sorry, Lee. That’s terrible.”

“So I ran from here as soon as I got a chance and then ran back when I could. There were many reasons I chose to come home, but not all of them are noble or pure. We’re all runners from something. You know?” He nudged me. “It’s just that some of us prefer marathons.”

I laughed. “Yeah. I think I’m Ironman material.”

“I was admiring your muscular calves.” He blushed just
as I did. “Um . . . that didn’t come out quite like I meant it. Not that you don’t have awesome calves. I was just making a . . . I’m drowning here, aren’t I?”

I nodded, stifling my laugh. “Yeah. Sinking like concrete.”

“That’s my MO.”

“You do it well.”

“Thanks.” He looked at me for a moment. “So, you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I just needed some air.”

The wind blew through the silence between us.

He cleared his throat. “Look, Faith, I don’t know how to say this. But I know it needs to be said between us. And maybe it will help you in some way. I don’t know how. But maybe it will.”

I looked into his eyes. They were intense with care. He took a deep breath. “If you ever want to talk about that night, we can talk. Anytime. Anyplace. Okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” I tried to smile, but no matter what, under no circumstances would I ever talk to him about it.

I sighed. That was my family talking, as usual. Now I just wanted to run. Again. Into that field. It beckoned me. There was something freeing about the way the wind tangled the hair and stung the eyes.

I was saved from my indecision by Dad.

“Faith?” He was walking toward us, his face a mess of concerned lines. “What are you doing? You okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“Lee.”

“Mr. Barnett.”

“Just got a call from Hardy. His truck is in the ditch again. Gotta go help pull him out. I’m going to take Liv’s truck over there. Can you give her a ride back to her house?”

“Sure.” I noticed her, standing on the church steps, watching. “No problem at all.”

Dad cut his eyes to Lee, who took the hint. “Um, I should get going. Desperately need a shower and some hamstring ointment. Sucks getting old. Talk to you two later.”

Dad’s eyes were back on me. “Are you okay?”

“I am, I promise. It just took me by surprise. I’m sorry to have embarrassed you by running out like that.”

“Nonsense. Not worried about that at all. Essie Mae feels terrible.”

“She shouldn’t. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“Thought we’d go out for barbecue tonight.”

“Sounds good.”

“The heart doctor says it’s a no go, but it doesn’t hurt now and again. Everything I read says you shouldn’t deprive yourself.”

I smiled. “I read depriving yourself can lead to early death.”

“We must be reading the same articles.” He grinned, then patted me on the arm. “Okeydoke, see you this evening.”

I walked to Olivia, who was buttoning up her coat. “Giving me a lift home?”

“Of course.” I smiled tentatively at her, and she smiled back. We got into my car.

“Fancy,” she said.

I sighed. “Fancy got us nowhere. In fact, I think it got us to where we are now.”

I expected her to ask more about that, but instead she said, “Tell me about your life in New York.”

It surprised me. I glanced at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

I laughed. “Everything?”

“You get to go to fancy parties?”

I nodded. “All the time. Too many of them. After a while, they lose their luster.”

“Just indulge me.”

“Okay. Well, the way it works is that somebody throws a benefit party and people pay money to attend it and arrive in such expensive outfits they could feed an African village. There’s food, but more importantly alcohol. Open-bar benefits are the most popular. There’s music, and if you let it be, it can be fun. I won’t lie. I’ve had my share of fun.”

“You never really liked parties. Not even in high school.”

“I know. I still don’t. I have this friend, Maria, and she’s always dragging me to them. But I met Luke at one.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Charming. That’s the first word I’d use. And fearless. Funny. He could always make me laugh.”

“Where’d y’all live?”

“Our apartment overlooked Central Park. It was nice. Not too big, but big enough. I loved art, so we had a lot of
original oil paintings from new artists. The biggest one I ever bought was bright yellow. Kind of blobbish. Not sure why it appealed to me, but Luke bought it for me anyway.”

“What made you leave Juilliard?”

I gazed out at hazy sunshine spread over the cornfields. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to answer that question. Everybody, I guess, assumed it was some big event. The truth was, it was nothing more than self-doubt built upon insecurity, chiseling away at my resolve until one day I couldn’t do it anymore. I decided to change the subject.

“Have you ever talked to Lee?”

“Sure. See him every Sunday.”

“But
talked
to him.”

“I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I mean, I don’t make a point of it, if that’s what you mean. He sure seems interested in talking with you, though.”

“Don’t even go there.”

“Just a sisterly observation.”

“He was in New York, like me. Same time I was, too.”

“Heard his fiancée dumped him.”

“Anyway, just wondering if you ever talked to him. About that night.”

Olivia stared forward, expressionless. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Just thought that you might.”

“No.”

“Me either.”

“No point to it.”

“You’re right.”

We drove in silence for a little while.

“You know, nobody ever asked me.”

“Asked you what?”

“If I had that same dream. Same as yours.”

“What dream is that?” I asked, looking at her.

“Singing.”

I felt the tension in the car. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I just always wondered why nobody asked me. Why nobody had that same expectation of me. I mean, I know I could’ve never made it. I’m not nearly as good as you and Momma.”

“Liv
 
—”

“No, no, it’s true,” she said, holding her hand up at me. “I get it. I mean, yeah, here in Columbus County at the country church, I’m all that and a bag of chips, but I recognize that’s as far as I’m going to shine. I don’t think anybody ever knew that when I was younger, I dreamed of singing at the Grand Ole Opry.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Her smile turned to a grin. “I used to sing by myself out in the barn, when nobody was around, pretending to be up on that big stage, in front of hundreds of people. But you know, I couldn’t even get the guts up to sing in front of anybody, so I bet I would’ve chickened out in front of a real crowd.”

“You have a lovely voice. You always have.”

“Guess so. But I didn’t have ‘it.’”

“It?”

“Maybe people with ‘it’ don’t know they have it. It’s hard to define.”

“Liv, you never gave yourself enough credit. You still don’t.”

She stared out the front of the car. “I’m happy here. You know? I really am. Got Hardy and the girls. Got a nice house and some land. Got Daddy. Church. I’m happy.”

“I’m glad,” I said, putting my hand out to her arm. “I really am.”

“I want you to be happy too.”

I gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll get there.” Just not today.

A bit of silence passed between us, but it was easy silence, the kind we used to enjoy when we were younger. But then, with a hissy undertone that sliced through the quietness, Olivia said, “I don’t want you to talk to Lee. Let bygones be bygones, Faith. That’s how we do it around here. No reason to go bringin’ up the past.” She glanced at me and nodded that I should agree.

I nodded back, but I was lying.