Heart of the Country by Rene Gutteridge Page A

nuts. I still remember Sunday dinners and Dad ranting about it.
    Ironically, or maybe not, the sermon was on forgiveness. My mind wandered a lot, back to Luke, where I really didn’t want it to go. We had a lot of fairy-tale moments. Our first anniversary was in Africa. We’d attended galas and openings and benefits all over the world. I’d never had money before and swore I wouldn’t get attached to it, but it was a strange thing to not have to choose between this and that, or to not weigh the cost of anything. I’d grown comfortable in life for the first time since Momma died. My life was protected on all sides, so I thought.
    “You just going to sit there all day?”
    I snapped my attention upward to find Dad standing over me, waiting for me to exit the pew.
    “Sorry.” I quickly stood, grabbed my purse, filed into the center aisle. Outside, the sun was bright, washing white light over the brick stairs, where Dad stood shaking hands in his weekly ritual. I liked watching him. He was kind, sincere, not just shaking the hand but taking in the whole arm, starting at the elbow.
    “Last time I saw that dress, it was in a SoHo window.”
    I turned, first glancing down at my dress to see what in the world I was wearing. It was a Tory Burch, with chunky colors and a bit too short for this crowd. I looked up.
    “Lee?”
    “Here it is in Columbus County. Small world.”
    “How are you!” I hugged him and stepped back. I hadn’t seen him in . . . years. I longed to see a friendly, fish-out-of-water face. But I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be Lee’s. He reminded me of so many things I wanted to forget. I tried to keep my wide smile. We were never more than acquaintances   —his aunt went to our church, and he was a few years older   —but sometimes lives collide in unexpected ways, as ours had.
    “What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to fill that awkward silence that seemed to follow me everywhere.
    “I’m a doctor now. Just started in the ER over in Whiteville.”
    “You’re kidding!”
    “Is that a shock?”
    “The same guy who couldn’t manage to make time to study in high school?”
    “Turns out you can’t make much of a living coasting on old football glories.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So . . . where’s Luke?”
    “Still in New York . . .” I didn’t know what else to say, but thankfully Dad seemed to sense my predicament.
    “Dr. Lee! Good to see you!” He waved from a few feet away, then pointed to his foot. “I got a thing on my toe. Can I talk to you?”
    Lee smiled. “Duty calls.” He walked over to Dad.
    I’d barely caught my breath when another person stood between me and the sun, casting a shadow over an already dark-side-of-the-moon me. “Essie Mae,” I said.
    She took my chin in her wobbly hand. “You look just like your momma. I’d swear she was standing here right now if I didn’t know better. But I am getting up in age, so maybe I’m having one of those dementia streaks.”
    I grinned and hugged her. Before we could continue our conversation, Olivia was by our sides.
    “Hi, Olivia,” I said, hoping that stink eye was going to cut me some slack.
    Essie Mae patted Olivia’s shoulder. “Don’t you look pretty in that new coat.”
    “Hardy got me this from that new outlet down in Myrtle Beach the other day. No occasion. Nothing. Just came home with it.”
    “Now that is something.”
    “He’s a good man.”
    Essie Mae might have been having a dementia streak, but nothing was lost on her. She knew Olivia was sticking the knife in. I could see it in her eyes.
    “Isn’t it wonderful to have your sister back with us?” she said, now patting us both on the arms. “I’ll tell you what, nothing is as special as family.”
    “Absolutely,” Olivia said, and she cast a glance at me. For once, it didn’t look like it wanted to pierce and mutilate my soul. “Absolutely, Miss Essie.”
    “Well, you two, I better get myself to the kitchen.