Read Online Heart of the Country by Rene Gutteridge - Free Book Online
Authors: Rene Gutteridge
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all at once what I feared and what I hoped for. What I hoped for more than what I feared. So I was able to keep walking. Dust settled against my ankles. I wondered when the last time was that I walked on dirt.
A few yards away, he sensed me and turned. My heart stopped as I watched him get to his feet. I was taken aback by how he’d aged.
I realized as I walked, faster now, that he couldn’t see me well enough to know who I was. I watched him fish his glasses out of his pocket, put them on his face. By now I was close, twenty feet away. I stopped because I didn’t know what else to do. His eyes widened.
“Faith?” He stepped forward. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, Daddy,” I said, my voice choked and weak. “I’m home.”
12
CATHERINE
“M A’AM? Can you hear me?”
There is a dirt road that leads to my house. It’s spectacularly unspectacular, except it’s our road. Calvin had it named. I saw Olivia bounding down it, her floral skirt tangled between those lanky legs. Her curls bounced around her head, like they were square-dancing. She was my serious one. Always on task. Always together, confident in her decisions. Like her daddy.
She was smiling today, running fast in those new cowboy boots she’d saved up her allowance for. I loved that rare smile.
Behind her came Faith, little, maybe three, with hermatching skirt. She wanted to dress like her sister. But the skirt came down to her ankles. Beneath the hem I saw she didn’t have shoes on. I could never get that girl to wear shoes.
“Blood pressure is fifty-two over thirty-five . . .”
I felt my eyes open, even though I thought they already were. I stared up at this boy. How old could he have been? He looked so young. Terrified. His sharp blue eyes opened wider as he noticed mine.
And then searing pain through my legs. I almost laughed, except I’d never felt pain like this in my life. I’d delivered both girls naturally, but it was nothing like this. I tried to move my hand, tried to find his. I needed a hand.
There it was. His found mine. Squeezed it. I couldn’t squeeze back. I couldn’t move anything. But I felt pain.
“I’m alive!”
The young man lowered himself, put his ear close to my mouth. It was strange. I thought I’d shouted it, but it appeared he could barely hear me.
“Her blood pressure is rising!” he said, sounding relieved. He looked at me again. It seemed maybe he realized I could see him, and so he smiled a little. “You hang in there, ma’am. Do you hear me?”
But I felt his hand trembling inside mine.
He let go and put his hands on my stomach. Heavy, like a brick. Just holding his hands there.
Then the pain faded again. I tried to grab for it, willing it back.
“Momma . . .”
Her voice. Her sweet, sweet voice in my ear.
“I heard that music you’re always talking about.”
I swept her around in a circle, holding her tiny waist as her legs clung to my hips. “You did?”
“Yes, I did. When I was in the pasture.”
“What did it sound like?”
“I don’t know. It smelled.”
I laughed. “Smelled?”
“Yes. Like you and Daddy.” She dropped to the ground, placing her arms around my waist. “I want to be like you someday, Momma.”
“Me?”
“Everybody tells me I look like you.”
“You do.”
“And so I am going to sing like you, too.”
I knelt down and smoothed her hair out of her face. “You just remember that the music comes from here.” I put a hand on her heart. And then she ran, wrapped in the bright light of midday.
It enveloped her, and I couldn’t see her any longer. “Faith? Faith?”
“Ma’am, calm down. I’m right here. Right here with you.”
His hand slid into mine again. I felt the rubbery latex. I wanted to feel his flesh. Something wet dribbled down my arm. Warm.
The pain was there, but it was distant, as if someone else were feeling it. Don’t let it go. Don’t let it go.
“Don’t let go.”
His face was near mine, his eyes like beacons
A few yards away, he sensed me and turned. My heart stopped as I watched him get to his feet. I was taken aback by how he’d aged.
I realized as I walked, faster now, that he couldn’t see me well enough to know who I was. I watched him fish his glasses out of his pocket, put them on his face. By now I was close, twenty feet away. I stopped because I didn’t know what else to do. His eyes widened.
“Faith?” He stepped forward. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, Daddy,” I said, my voice choked and weak. “I’m home.”
12
CATHERINE
“M A’AM? Can you hear me?”
There is a dirt road that leads to my house. It’s spectacularly unspectacular, except it’s our road. Calvin had it named. I saw Olivia bounding down it, her floral skirt tangled between those lanky legs. Her curls bounced around her head, like they were square-dancing. She was my serious one. Always on task. Always together, confident in her decisions. Like her daddy.
She was smiling today, running fast in those new cowboy boots she’d saved up her allowance for. I loved that rare smile.
Behind her came Faith, little, maybe three, with hermatching skirt. She wanted to dress like her sister. But the skirt came down to her ankles. Beneath the hem I saw she didn’t have shoes on. I could never get that girl to wear shoes.
“Blood pressure is fifty-two over thirty-five . . .”
I felt my eyes open, even though I thought they already were. I stared up at this boy. How old could he have been? He looked so young. Terrified. His sharp blue eyes opened wider as he noticed mine.
And then searing pain through my legs. I almost laughed, except I’d never felt pain like this in my life. I’d delivered both girls naturally, but it was nothing like this. I tried to move my hand, tried to find his. I needed a hand.
There it was. His found mine. Squeezed it. I couldn’t squeeze back. I couldn’t move anything. But I felt pain.
“I’m alive!”
The young man lowered himself, put his ear close to my mouth. It was strange. I thought I’d shouted it, but it appeared he could barely hear me.
“Her blood pressure is rising!” he said, sounding relieved. He looked at me again. It seemed maybe he realized I could see him, and so he smiled a little. “You hang in there, ma’am. Do you hear me?”
But I felt his hand trembling inside mine.
He let go and put his hands on my stomach. Heavy, like a brick. Just holding his hands there.
Then the pain faded again. I tried to grab for it, willing it back.
“Momma . . .”
Her voice. Her sweet, sweet voice in my ear.
“I heard that music you’re always talking about.”
I swept her around in a circle, holding her tiny waist as her legs clung to my hips. “You did?”
“Yes, I did. When I was in the pasture.”
“What did it sound like?”
“I don’t know. It smelled.”
I laughed. “Smelled?”
“Yes. Like you and Daddy.” She dropped to the ground, placing her arms around my waist. “I want to be like you someday, Momma.”
“Me?”
“Everybody tells me I look like you.”
“You do.”
“And so I am going to sing like you, too.”
I knelt down and smoothed her hair out of her face. “You just remember that the music comes from here.” I put a hand on her heart. And then she ran, wrapped in the bright light of midday.
It enveloped her, and I couldn’t see her any longer. “Faith? Faith?”
“Ma’am, calm down. I’m right here. Right here with you.”
His hand slid into mine again. I felt the rubbery latex. I wanted to feel his flesh. Something wet dribbled down my arm. Warm.
The pain was there, but it was distant, as if someone else were feeling it. Don’t let it go. Don’t let it go.
“Don’t let go.”
His face was near mine, his eyes like beacons
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