Hart (3 page)

Except I have to control this.

And I can't think about it.

Because it isn't right.

I haven't seen Lucien since breakfast. He's probably gone to town to court Colleen some more.

I should let him.

I should let him be happy.

I am. I'm letting him. That's why I'm writing this here instead of telling him. I have to get it out. I need it off my chest so I won't accidently blab it to Lucien.

This is what happened… what I wasn't going to write about… what won't leave me alone.

While he was on his pie tirade, Colleen and I were left alone. We chatted, and it was nice. I wrote about that.

Then, I swear I didn't mean for it to happen, I reached for the bread at the same time she reached for the bread.

Our fingers touched.

And I can't stop thinking about it.

How silly is that?

It wasn't like we kissed or hugged or even held hands. We simply touched.

I can't stop thinking about how soft her skin was or how her eyes met mine in that surprised way. But she didn't move her hand away. Neither did I. Not for the longest time.

I have to stop thinking about her and all these things that mean nothing in the long run.

Strange, I know I use that word a lot, I could’ve sworn I saw someone in the forest at the edge of town watching us.

Someone nothing. I think I saw Mother, but it must’ve been a trick of the eye. Mother wouldn’t have been out there. She had no reason.

My mind playing tricks…

I wish I could trick my mind into not thinking about Colleen.

I wish…

Saturday, May 18, 1861

N
OTHING MAJOR HAPPENED TODAY.
No Earth-shattering revelations or anything like that.

The only reason I opened this journal was to put our picture inside.

Our… my family. Mother, Father, Lucien, and me.

All in one photograph.

A man came to town with a camera and everyone lined up. Even Mother in her weakened state, who some days couldn't be bothered to change out of her nightgown, put on her Easter Sunday best.

We all looked dapper.

Shined up real nice.

Mother and Father sat on chairs. Mr. Hammons, the man with the photograph machine, thought Mother was Father's daughter.

She snickered, all flattered.

Father's jaw twitched.

Lucien and I stood in the back. Brothers. We looked strong and proper. The perfect loving family.

Except…

I'm hiding something from him, and he hasn't spoken to me all day.

So enough of that. I'm putting this photograph in here so I don't lose it. I don't think anyone in the house will notice that it’s gone.

I'm not even sure why I want to keep it. It isn't like I don't know what my brother and my family look like.

It isn't like I will never see them again.

Or that this picture will save the world one day or anything.

It’s just an ordinary photograph. Just something I’ll forget about tomorrow.

More importantly, I saw Colleen today. From afar. Chatting with Lucien after our photograph.

I didn't stay around to watch them being affectionate toward each other. There are some things a man cannot bear.

Monday, May 20, 1861

I
'M NOT EVEN GOING TO APOLOGIZE
for writing so much. It’s what this dumb book is for, right? It’s what it is. I must talk to someone, and if that someone one is myself in Grandfather's journal, then so be it.

So. Be. It.

I thought it was my imagination. Lucien's disposition yesterday towards me. I figured I was just being paranoid.

After all, with the new war raging and the uncertainty of what Tennessee will do, the least of my worries should be about a girl and my brother's grumpiness.

Used to, my brother and I would talk every night. We share a room after all. The last few weeks, though, our conversations have become very basic. And last night we didn't speak at all.

He was gone when I woke up.

He hasn't been home since.

I wonder if he suspects. I wonder if I've said Colleen's name in my sleep. It isn't like I can help dreaming about her.

In my dreams, we’re alone by the pond, under the old tree.

We are lying on the blanket. Lunch is all around us.

We eat none of it. We are too busy with each other. Touching skin to skin. My lips on her soft shoulder. Making love to her. She's intoxicating. And the way she touches me.

I know I’m in trouble.

The more I try to fight whatever it is that she holds over me, whatever spell she's cast, the more difficult it all becomes.

I want her body.

I want her mind.

I want her.

This has never happened to me before. Of course it has to be with my brother's girl.

I can't get her out of my mind.

She haunts me day and night.

No wonder my brother avoids me. If he has any idea what’s going on inside my mind, I wouldn't want to speak to me either.

I can't even look at our photograph anymore. The one I have in this journal.

This is silly. I’m being an imbecile. I must stop this before I lose a brother over it.

I will stop it before I lose everything.

I will not let it go any further. After tonight, I shall never think of Colleen Channing ever again.

Wednesday, May 22, 1861

T
ODAY IS A DAY
I
WISH
to forget, though the mere fact that I’m writing it down suggests otherwise.

Mother is… I cannot write the word without feeling dread or being downtrodden.

I can't.

I should go back to daybreak when this horrid day began.

I woke at sunrise. Lucien, as well was becoming his custom, was nowhere to be seen. We hadn't talked in two days. He wasn't home when I went to bed, and he wasn't here when I woke up.

The only way I knew that he'd be in our room was the disarray of his quilt. That wasn't like him either. My brother is many things. The most of which is a neat nilly. It’s enough to take a toll on a man.

I don't know if he left it there for me to see that he'd been home and was ignoring me or what.

I don't suppose it matters. Not now.

The day went along normally.

I got up.

I ate breakfast. Mother was not up yet, so I ate some left over bread and butter. I didn't find it odd that Mother hadn't risen. There had been times lately where she stayed in her bed longer. Father said she was unwell.

None of us knew how unwell she truly was. At least, I didn't.

I had chores to do, so I started out of the house.

Then Mother called me from her room. She sat with her shawl around her shoulders and her rocking chair pulled to the window.

Even with the coughing, she was as beautiful as ever.

I didn't know.

Mother was breathing heavily. Almost as if she could not get enough air. I asked if she needed anything, like any good son would do.

She said yes and that I'd get it for her.

She turned her head and smiled at me, but the look in her eyes (cold, distant) and the blood smeared on her teeth made me retreat until I hit my back on the doorframe, which made Mother's smile widen.

My mother, with her sunken eyes and purple and glassy stare, winked at me.

She told me many things. None of them are things I wish to remember.

One I will write down for this is important. She said that she used to wish I'd never been born, that I'd always been a curse for her. But now, at least, she saw my purpose. My true worth. She said she thanked the angels in Heaven for me.

Then she instructed me to head to town and fetch the doctor. Such a strange request, or so I thought at the time.

Yes, she appeared ill, but I didn't know how ill.

I went to town as she instructed. I made my way toward the doctor. Because I'm a good son. Even if Mother never realized it.

And Colleen happened by at the very same moment. I asked if she'd seen my brother (for I believed I should tell him what was happening to Mother). To my surprise, she said no.

I told her nothing of my mother's condition. I knew Mother would rather have all her toenails pulled out than for anyone in town to know of her condition. I did, however, speak to Colleen about Lucien. I told her all good things about him, at least that's how they were in my mind. I didn't know how to fight my feelings for Colleen, so that meant I had to talk up my brother so she would fall for him as he had her.

I get tired of saying that I didn't know.

I didn't know.

I’m nineteen years old.

And I didn't know.

That is a lie. I knew.

I knew better than to stop and talk to Colleen.

I knew better than to walk with her until we were in the alley between the post office and the barbershop.

I knew I should be getting the doctor for Mother.

I knew I didn't care.

I knew I never should’ve run my fingers over her smooth skin.

I knew I never should’ve balanced her on her tiptoes and backed her to the wall.

I knew better than to lean down toward her, and I knew as well as I'm sitting here that I never should’ve allowed my lips to touch hers.

A sweet kiss.

A chaste kiss.

A kiss that will haunt me forever.

For when she pulled back, I could see it in her expression. Her eyes weren't focused on me. They were gazing at something over my left shoulder.

I saw him not a few moments later.

Standing in the middle of the street, watching us.

Lucien.

He took a step toward us and halted.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Colleen felt so good in my arms, but I could no longer enjoy the sensation.

Lucien saw.

Lucien knew.

He yelled at me that he thought I was supposed to fetch the doctor. I have no idea how he knew that. He wasn't home when Mother instructed me to do so.

Without waiting for me to offer any sort of explanation, Lucien ran toward Doc's.

I followed.

We fetched the doctor.

We rode with him in his wagon home. Colleen sat between us.

We were too late.

By the time the doctor made it to her bedside, Mother was dead.

It’s something I could’ve prevented. Something I could’ve stopped. Something I’ll never forgive myself for.

Something…

Lucien will never forgive me.

But how could I have known?

Thursday, May 23, 1861

I
T WASN'T CLOUDY OR RAINING TODAY
. In fact, it was sunny and bright. Warm even for May.

Like God himself was happy Mother was dead.

Maybe He is.

It's funny. I thought I'd be happy the day Mother met her maker. Maybe not happy. More relieved.

I'd daydreamed of the day that monster of a mother no longer walked on the Earth. Never did I believe it would occur so suddenly or under such circumstances.

I assumed some wife in town would come calling and shoot Mother between the eyes for what honestly could’ve been for any number of reasons. Many rumors floated around about Mother. None ever spoken to her face. I believe the town feared her as much as I do.

As I did.

I don't believe I’ve ever admitted that before, to fearing my mother. Not even to myself. She most certainly didn't act like a lot of the other mothers in the world. Or rather the town.

Besides that, she had this air about her. I caught her once playing with mystical cards. Then, when she noticed me, she shut the door in my face, without even standing. After that, I started noticing different things. Things I will never write down or speak of. People should not speak ill of the dead…

But those things—the talking board, the spirit cards, the book I was never to touch and paid dearly for it when I did, the chickens that disappeared mysteriously… and a few goats—I'm sure the town would’ve burned her for. Though she was a devout church-goer.

And she’ll be buried in the church's graveyard next to her mother.

Then the town will need other things to gossip about. I'm sure some will gossip about my mother until their dying breath.

Her funeral is tomorrow. I dare not wonder where her soul is. Heaven or Hell. She isn't here. That's all I know for sure. That's all I care about.

Rest in peace, you evil bitch.

May 23 (Part 2)

I
CAN'T BE HERE.

I can't be here in this house with him.

I can't. I don't know why I came up here to write, but I did.

Lucien and I had a fight. Not unusual, but the biggest fight we've ever had. I caught him in Mother's room. Just staring at her bed.

All I did—ALL I DID—was ask him if he was all right. That's it. That's it! I put my hand on his shoulder, because even though she was a huge bitch to me, Lucien loved Mother and she loved him.

Lucien smacked my hand off and pushed me back. His eyes were red and wet. I knew her death would hit him hard. I had no idea it would be this hard.

He yelled at me. Accused me of being happy that she was gone. Told me Father told him her last words were of an angel standing beside her with big blue eyes and tall in stature. She told Father this angel had been coming to her. And that she'd known for a while that she was going to die.

And I was supposed to get the doctor, Lucien went on. Except I had no idea Mother was that sick.

Lucien says it’s my fault she's dead. That I was sent to town to get the doctor, and I had fetched Colleen for myself instead. He said that if I’d hurried, Mother would still be alive. Then he said that he was sure I took my time on purpose to get a doctor because I wanted her to die and saw my opportunity.

That's when I left. I came back here and grabbed this book to try to calm down, but it isn't working.

I can't stay here.

I'll be damned if I stay with him.

Monday, May 27, 1861

I
ALMOST WISH
T
ENNESSEE WOULD SECEDE
or at least pick a damn side and commit so I'd have a reason to join the war—to get out of here. God, I need out of here.