Heart of the Country (11 page)

26

I
T FEELS STRANGE
to imagine your world without you in it. I don’t know if we do it often or not. Maybe we do, when we’re feeling underappreciated. Or overwhelmed. But we don’t dare imagine it with any real consideration.

I dared.

When the waves of pain would cease, I found myself flipping through the images of my life as if it were a photo album. It was, I guess. Most of what I saw were snapshots of what I held most dear to me. Olivia twirling on the tire swing. Faith singing “Over the Rainbow.” Calvin feeding the horses.

There are some who resign themselves to dying. But my
guess is that hardly any of them are mothers. I thought of my girls, how they loved to wrap their arms around my waist, still to this day. How Faith always put on too much lotion and Olivia liked bright headbands. I’d raised them into fine young women, but now life really started for them. Now mistakes could cost them a whole life’s happiness. How could I leave them so vulnerable, for the world to teach them all the lessons I was supposed to?

I tried to find comfort. I didn’t think I could pray because I didn’t want to ask God what His will was. When the pain came, there were glimpses of heaven so vivid that I wondered if I was there. But when it washed away and the voices around me withered against the noises of my mind, I thought of my girls without me.

They’ll be all right,
I whispered in my head.
They’re the best of friends. They’ve always been there for each other.

But Calvin. Calvin could not be all right. We were soul mates. We were one. He was a strong man, but what every beloved wife knows is that much of that strength comes from her. He could be strong because I was strong.

I wondered if I would get a chance to say good-bye. If I was going to die, then that was what I wanted, a chance to say my final words. To bless each of their heads and wish them a happy life. To tell them that all of my life’s happiness was wrapped up in them. That my happy life was because of them.

“Allow me that,” I said to God. “And then You can have Your way.”

27

I’
D PARKED IN
the church parking lot so I could walk the long path to the cemetery. It had its own lot on the other side, but I liked the walk. It was a pebble path. I’d walked it before. But never all the way. I could never get myself to go stand over her grave.

It was different this time, though. The walk was easier. Maybe because I’d seen more of the world, realized all of its stumbling blocks. Maybe I knew where it was my mother rested, and it wasn’t a hilly gravesite underneath an oak tree.

I’d not planned on seeing Olivia there. I thought when I saw her that it might be our moment to reconcile, but I was wrong. As usual.

Still, after she left, I was able to try to make some peace for myself. Talk to Mom out loud instead of just in my heart.

The wind got colder, so I walked back to my car. But I wasn’t quite ready to go home. I was kind of fragile, and I wasn’t sure at what moment I might burst into tears. So I sat on the curb and took the moment that I needed.

“If it makes you feel any better, it does get easier.”

I turned to find Lee behind me, wearing gym shorts and holding a basketball.

“What?”

“Being back here.” He set his basketball between his legs as he sat down next to me on the curb.

“What’s with the basketball?”

“New activity center,” he said, pitching his thumb toward the black building on the other side of the church. “Not quite the competition I got on the courts at 114th and Broadway, but it’ll work.”

“You
lived
in New York?”

“When I was in med school at Columbia.”

“You went to Columbia medical school and came back to be an ER doctor
here
?”

He twirled the ball underneath his hands. “Summer after my second year they sent us down to Peru to assist some doctors giving aid there. Before that, I thought I was at least partly in this for the money. Doctors are rich guys, right? But down there . . . it was real medicine. And it was about helping the people who needed it the most.” He nodded toward an old farmhouse across the field. “There’s a lot of need here.”

“New York’s a different kind of world.”

“Yeah.” He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Reminded me of a little boy. “You here long?”

“I don’t really know.”

He looked at his watch. “Well, duty calls.” He stood, bouncing the ball a couple of times. “One thing you have to remember is that time stands still around here. A year in New York is like a day here, you know? Things that happened five, ten years ago seem prehistoric to you, but they’re yesterday to these people.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I was comprehending all that he was trying to say to me. Olivia had reminded me that time didn’t stand still.

“And,” he said as he walked off, “you know it’s going to be all right, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, and frankly, I didn’t have one for him.

I drove back home and found Dad in the barn, doing the chores. Through the big doors I saw Silver, all alone in the pasture.

“I’m thinking of getting another horse,” Dad said, putting the old blue feeding bucket back in the corner. He dusted his hands off and joined me in the doorway. “I can’t replace Lady, but Silver hasn’t been himself since we put her down.” He glanced sideways at me and with a wry smile added, “And no, this isn’t my way of saying I’m getting remarried.”

I smiled. I might’ve wondered, except around here, people were used to speaking their mind, just like in New York.

“How’s Miss Essie?”

“Sweet as ever. She wants me to sing with the choir.”

“She wants to see you happy again. It’s what we all want.” He stepped in front of me, gazed at the pasture with his hands on his hips. “Even Olivia.”

“Olivia would rather I be happy far, far away from here.”

“Believe it or not, Faith, people don’t hate you for leaving.”

“No. Just for coming back no better than I started.”

He turned toward me, his hands still on his hips. “Okay, stop it. Stop this poor-me thing and understand that you are loved. You’re here now. Might as well be part of this place again.” He glanced away, stared at the window over the barn. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. Stay here. Go back. But you can’t find your way unless you take a step.” As he walked past me, he patted me on the shoulder with those big hands.

“I can’t go back because I have nowhere to go back to, Daddy. And I can’t stay here because . . .” I tried not to cry, but around Dad it was hard. He made me feel comfortable enough to.

He turned and wrapped me in his arms. “Don’t you say that. You can stay here as long as you want.” He stroked my hair. “You hear me?”

“He lied to me.”

Dad listened, didn’t pressure me to say what I wasn’t ready for. But with my head on his chest, staring out at the pasture, I knew I could.

“And because of it, I have nothing left. Not even him.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him?”

The question surprised me, and I lifted my head to look at him.

“What? He’s still your husband, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to know about him.”

“‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ was our song.”

“That’s a good song.”

“I know that was your song with Mom, and I know you’re all alone, and it was my song with Luke and now I’m all alone . . .” I buried my face in his shirt. “I miss her so much, Daddy.”

“We’re just a big mess, aren’t we?”

I nodded and laughed through my tears. I stood there for a moment and wiped them, saying nothing else. But then I wanted to say more. “He’s very kind. He once bought a painting for me that he hated. Admittedly, it was pretty hideous. Hard to describe. Big and yellow. But he knew I liked it, so we hung it in our living room and he had to look at it every day but didn’t care.” I sniffled. “Not many people realize what he gave up for us. . . .”

“It’s a sacrifice, and it should be. But nobody ever tells you it’s a risk, too. Because it can be ripped away from you.”

I shuffled uncomfortably under his vulnerability.

“There is always hope,” he said.

“What about for you?”

“Even for me.”

I closed my eyes and heard Lee’s words, that it was going
to be okay. I clung to Dad but had to let their words slip away. I couldn’t believe them. Perhaps there was a new hope I could find, but any other hope was crushed by bitter reality.

“Maybe a new horse would be good, Daddy.”

28

I
DROVE TOWARD
the Upper East Side, with my hands wrapped around the steering wheel of my Jaguar XJ like I was wringing its neck. My bloodless knuckles refused to relax their grip.

The idea that I was going to see him churned my stomach, so I thought of other things, but my mind tossed them aside as meaningless. And my mind was right. There was really only one thing that meant anything to me, and she’d fled. I wasn’t totally sure where she’d gone but suspected it was back to North Carolina. We’d talked often about going there to see her family, but we were both busy . . . except I never bought into the idea that busyness was what was keeping her away.

Besides, we’d built a nice life together, and it seemed the less distracted we were from that, the better. We were insulated, and that’s how we remained strong for so long. Or so I thought.

The thing with Faith was that she just didn’t seem to belong in the scene we were both so familiar with. She was there, and she fit, believe me, but it never fit her, if you know what I mean. There was a richness to her that could never be paid out in gold or silver. And there was no amount of money that could buy that kind of heart.

She challenged me to be a better man and to live in the present, which I always had such a hard time with. She taught me about living in the moment.

She might not ever understand it. But I would do anything for her. Even this.

I easily found a parking space a few houses down from Jake’s brownstone. I took my time getting to the sidewalk. Days ago I would’ve envied this lifestyle. The nannies walking the children. Dog walkers pulling at eager leashes. A quiet, tree-lined street that spoke to wealth and status. Faith and I had talked about moving to the Upper East Side, but I never wanted to be like Jake. Except sometimes I did.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and strolled, enjoying for a moment the fresh air. It was the little things, things that I took for granted before, that I would never take for granted again. I stood there for ten minutes watching one bird in one tree. It flew away. But I could not. So I walked.

I’m not certain how long I stood in front of Jake’s heavy
red door, staring at the paint, admiring the old-world knocker engraved with the Carraday family emblem. Then I stared at my last name, tracing each line with my eyes, remembering the dignity that it held. Dad had started, as he tells the story, with $304 in the bank. He’d built an empire for himself. It had cost him a lot of things, but never his dignity and never his good name. And maybe that was what I was trying to save. That, and my marriage. Mostly my marriage. Except it seemed an impossibility at this point.

And that was what led me there, because there was something about Jake.
Impossible
didn’t resonate with him. It was a word that never got in his way, just annoyed him. Sometimes he seemed like Superman to me. Not that he didn’t seem like the devil, too. But more Superman.

I stood there for a moment longer, figuring by now neighbors were starting to notice a man just standing in front of the door, and then knocked, harder than I meant to.

The door swung open. Candace stood there in a floral wrap dress and heels that didn’t seem to indicate at all that it was Sunday. Faith and I lived in sweats and slides on the weekends. She touched her pearls as shock and recognition passed over her face. “Luke . . .”

“Hi, Candace.” I smiled. I always liked my sister-in-law. She was pleasant, proper, and always polite. It was like Jake had stepped into a machine and created the perfect match for himself. She was even tall, like him. “Is Jake home?”

“Yes. He’s back watching the Yankees game. You know
where to find him.” She stepped to the side and, after a second of me not moving, said, “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” I stepped inside. It had been a while. Candace had changed the decor. Upscale. Traditional. Hints of hip. I guess it wasn’t all that changed. Different colors and patterns but same feel.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? You know Jake
 
—the fridge is stocked with anything you might want.”

“I’m good. But thanks.”

She touched my arm, and it felt a little strange because I sort of regarded myself as having leprosy these days and figured everyone else did too. I flinched, but it didn’t deter her. Her eyes were warm. “Luke, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too. Thanks, Candace.”

It was probably the shot in the arm I needed to head to the back and find Jake. I could hear the game on. The crack of the bat. The cheering crowd. With the surround sound he had set up, it sort of felt like I might be walking into the stadium.

He didn’t hear me come in.

“Hey.”

He turned, regarded me for a moment, but didn’t look stunned. “Yankees are down.”

“Can’t win ’em all.”

“Clearly you are not a real Yankees fan.” He gestured with his glass for me to move into his line of sight and take a seat. “You want anything?”

“I’m good.”

“At least sit down. You’re making me nervous standing there like that.”

There was a lot of seating to choose from. Leather lounge chairs. Wingbacks. Three different couches. The floor.

I chose a leather chair with an ottoman but couldn’t kick my feet up. Nothing about this felt relaxing.

Jake finally seemed to sense the tension with which I carried myself. He set down his drink and leaned forward. “What is it?”

“Criminal deposition is next Monday.” It was hard to say. All of it. “With the SEC.”

Jake muted the TV. “You bringing Yates with you?”

“Yeah. He’s telling me to take the Fifth.”

“Nobody’s taking the Fifth. You tell him to make a deal before you ever walk in there.” Jake sighed loudly, looked jittery. “Candace, get me the phone! I’ll tell him.”

“I could go to jail.”

The clacking of Candace’s heels against the hardwood floors was the only sound. And maybe the thumping of my heart.

Then Jake laughed. A short, staccato laugh that broke the tension but not the reality. He looked hard at me. “You’re not going to jail.”

I stood, though not sure my legs could hold me up. “The deposition is the last step before the grand jury!”

“Calm down.”

“I am going to get indicted over this!”

Candace walked in, gave Jake the phone, walked out. Jake set the phone on the table. “Sit down.”

“I can’t sit down. I can’t
 
—”

“Stop freaking out of your mind and sit down. Seriously, sit.”

I sat. My body trembled at the thought of what was before me. And the flash of panic that I saw cross my brother’s expression.

“Are you asking for my help?” Jake stared hard at me.

I couldn’t look at him. “Yes.”

“Okay. You talk with Dad about this?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t you think you should?”

“Picture that conversation.”

“He’s not Zeus, you know.” Jake sighed. “All right. Fine. I’ll get him to the deposition.”

“Thanks. I should go.”

Jake stood with me. “How’s Faith?”

“Gone.”

His expression said he wasn’t surprised. “Probably better that way, right?”

This time I sighed. There was no way to answer that to Jake’s satisfaction. I walked to the front door, let myself out, and stood looking at that tree again. I was so desperate to get Faith back, I realized, that asking Jake for help didn’t even sting. It gave me some hope. But as I walked to my car, I fought the temptation to believe I was completely alone.
The family I had run from since I got my legs underneath me might be the only thing that saved my own family.

I stood under that tree and wondered if I should pray. But the sky looked too expansive. And the need seemed too heavy. And the broken man I knew I was could not fathom why God would take a single request from me.