Chapter 4
Monday
The next morning came early. As I blinked open my eyes, I was greeted by the sun slowly peeking over the watery horizon.
The vivid painting of orange and pink in the eastern sky was a stark contrast to the deep blues and silvers of the previous night.
I rose slowly, the weight of yesterday’s conversations still heavy on my shoulders.
It had been a long time since I had talked about my life in Sims Chapel, about Mother, and about Jack.
But I needed to get this off my chest, to liberate myself from the shackles that had bound me for so long.
The house was silent as I made my way down the hall.
Seeing that I was the first one up, I retreated to the library, where I picked up my copy of The Great Gatsby and lost myself for a while within its pages.
The characters’ lives seemed so distant from my own, yet there was something in their longing, their struggle for identity and acceptance, that rang true.
As I immersed myself in the world of Jay Gatsby and Nick Carraway, the house began to stir. Judy wandered in first, her hair in disarray. She sank into the armchair across from me, cradling her head in her hands.
“It’s too early,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
I watched her with an amused smile, setting my book face down on the coffee table.
Diane arrived then through the back door, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall. I paused for a moment, listening as her heels clacked against the hardwood.
I left Judy in the library and found Diane in the kitchen, her dark hair tied back in a neat bun, grabbing a bagel from the breadbox.
She didn’t notice me at first, and I let her be.
I put on a pot of tea, the gentle hissing of the kettle a comforting background noise.
When it came to a boil, I poured it over the waiting teabag and fixed a cup for Diane too.
“Morning,” I said as I approached her, the steaming mugs in hand.
“Oh, morning,” she said, taking the mug from me. “Thank you.” She sipped the tea slowly.
“You seem distracted this morning. Is everything all right?”
“Mmm? Sorry, just thinking.”
“Anything in particular?” I asked, not pushing but showing my willingness to listen.
She remained silent for a few seconds, her gaze far away.
Then she looked at me, her eyes clear and strong.
“It’s Cassie. She’s having trouble at school.
Fighting with her classmates, getting into arguments with her teachers.
She’s having difficulty adjusting to the fact that Kyle is gone.
I’ve tried to talk to her, to help her understand, but… ”
I placed my tea on the counter and moved closer to her, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder. Her face softened at the contact, and she turned to me, her eyes so full of worry that it pained me.
“Do you want to talk about it? Despite what you might have heard about me being cold and distant, I’m actually a good listener.”
My words drew a smile from Diane, and she gave a quiet chuckle, her tension unfurling slightly. “It’s nothing to burden you with, really. I guess she just needs more time, you know?”
I did know. “Most people say that time heals all wounds, but they often forget to mention how unpredictable that time can be. Or the fact that sometimes, the wound closes up but leaves a scar that never really fades.”
“I just don’t know what else to do for her.
Losing Kyle has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to go through.
But it’s not just about me. Watching Cassie hurting, it’s.
..heartbreaking. You see, I was a teenager when I had her, so I know what it’s like to struggle.
Now, seeing her have her own issues, it feels like I’ve come full circle. ”
I nodded, understanding her feelings completely.
“It's tough, especially when you feel like you're not able to help the person you love the most. But remember, Diane, grief isn't linear. We all heal at different rates and in different ways. Give her some more time. I’m sure she’ll start to turn the corner soon enough. And if not, there’s always professional help.”
After breakfast, we returned to the library to pick up where we’d left off the previous evening. Now that Diane had composed herself, she settled into the armchair and turned on the tape recorder.
“Where were we? Oh yes, I remember.” She put a finger in the air. “We were discussing your childhood. I have a pretty good feel for those early days, but I want to know about your teenage years. Were they as tumultuous as most?”
I gave a laugh as I drifted back to that time. “Tumultuous? That’s one way to put it.”
Sims Chapel, TN
May 1949
My mother’s voice echoed through the dense woods, calling me home for supper.
“Sorry,” I said as I got to my feet and brushed the dirt from my faded blue jeans. “I gotta go. If I’m late again, Mother will tan my hide.”
Jack reeled in his line and carefully secured the hook. “That’s okay. I promised my mama I’d be home before dark too.”
We gathered our gear—fishing rods, tackle, and bait—and hiked out of the woods together. When we reached the top of the hill, I turned for home and said, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“As long as the good Lord’s willing. Don’t forget, George gave me tomorrow off, so I plan on casting a line bright and early.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, offering him my best smile. “But thanks for reminding me.”
As I walked through the front door of my house, Mother was waiting, hands on her hips. “Sara Anne Coffee, what have I told you about coming home late?”
“But I’m not late, Mama. I came as soon as you hollered. Besides,” I said as I placed the fishing gear by the door, “I wasn’t getting into any trouble. Jack and I were just fishing down at the creek.”
“Again? How many days in a row does this make? Four? Five?”
Actually, it was six, but I decided it was best not to correct her.
“Something like that,” I replied, my eyes downcast under her scrutiny. “But I got all my chores done, and I helped Mr. Sullivan clean out that old barn this afternoon, just like I said I would.” I received a sigh in return, Mother’s stern facade softening.
“Fine. As long as your chores were all done.” She returned to cooking, pushing the bacon to one side of the pan while she cracked a few eggs into the hot grease.
“But don’t let me catch you shirking your duties.
You hear? Not just so you can go hanging around with that Bennett boy all day.
I’m still not crazy about you and him in the woods all alone for hours on end anyway.
It ain’t like it was when you were kids.
You’re eighteen now, and there’s some things a young lady ought to be mindful of. ”
“Mother, Jack is just a friend. And I’m not some silly girl who’s going to get herself into trouble. Besides that, Jack Bennett is the nicest boy in all of Sims Chapel. Probably the whole county. Everyone says so. Even Clara, and you know how good a judge of character she is.”
“Well…” Her expression softened further, her stern gaze settling into something more benevolent. “Why don’t we continue this conversation another time? Right now, you need to get in that bathroom and get washed up. I’ll have supper on the table directly.”
“Yes ma'am.”
As I retreated to the bathroom, I wondered what my mother saw in Jack that the rest of the town seemed blind to.
She had expressed her doubts about him before, but as I scrubbed my hands under the warm water, washing away the dirt and grime, I couldn’t let go of my own strong feelings.
As far as I was concerned, Jack Bennett hung the moon.
The next morning, I was up and at it bright and early, sweeping floors, dusting shelves, and scrubbing surfaces until they gleamed in the sunlight. I moved with determination, my slender frame stretching and bending, tirelessly working until my inside chores were done.
Afterward, I strolled around the backyard garden dotted with marigolds and tulips.
I touched the flowers gently as if they were made of glass, whispering words of encouragement to the budding beauties.
The flowers seemed to respond to my touch, swaying along to the sound of my voice.
My eyes widened in delight when I spotted a new sprout, pushing its way through the fertile soil.
Kneeling down next to it, I brushed away some of the surrounding dirt, giving it more room to grow.
“There you go, little one. Breathe, stretch, and reach for the sky.”
I went back inside, wiping my dirt-streaked hands on my apron.
With Mother at work, I longed for the woods, for the serene whispers of the wind through the trees and the comforting crunch of leaves underfoot.
I loved the way the forest's dappled sunlight filtered through the towering pines, casting intricate patterns like lacework on the forest floor below.
But more than that, I longed for time with Jack.
Ever since we first met when we were kids, there was an inexplicable bond between us, a friendship that had deepened over time.
Jack, with his ruffled sandy-brown hair and ocean-blue eyes, had an allure that was hard to resist. He was a gentle soul, full of kindness and compassion, and he was the only person I knew who shared my love for the woods.
And today, I felt that pull stronger than ever.
With my chores complete, I used the leftover bacon and biscuits from the night before and prepared breakfast for me and Jack. It was half past eight, which meant he would be at the creek by now. As I packed the food, my heart fluttered in anticipation, and a soft smile lingered on my lips.
“I thought I might find you here,” I called as I spotted Jack crouched near the edge of the creek.
He looked up at the sound of my voice and smiled. “You’re early. No chores today?”
“Already finished them,” I replied, then sat down beside him on the rock. “I brought us something to eat, if you’re hungry. It isn’t much—just some bacon and biscuits.”
“Thanks. I can always count on you.”
We spent the next few minutes talking about everything and nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company.
“Did you make it home in time last night?” Jack asked as he finished the last of his biscuit.
“Barely. But Mama still almost had a fit.”
“She’s not still giving you trouble about us fishing together, is she?”
“You know how she is, Jack. She just worries.”
He faced me, his eyes full of understanding. “I get it. My mama’s the same way. Always fretting over something or another.”
We sat for a while, listening to the sounds of nature around us—the chirping birds overhead, the rustling leaves under the soft breeze, and the steady flow of water against the rocks.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jack said. “Remember how you told me you’d be willing to help me and George around the dock? I mentioned it to him, and he thinks it’s a fine idea.”
“Really?”
“We’re thinking of adding a new section to make it suitable for more boats, and we could sure use an extra pair of hands, even if they’re as delicate as yours,” he said, poking me playfully in the side.
I swatted his hand away but couldn’t hide my smile. “Yeah, that’d be great. Oh,” I said, thinking of my chores. “I’d still have to get my work done at home. Maybe I could do that first thing, then come to the dock after. What time would you need me there?”
“Noon. George and I start early, but we take a break around then. It’d give you more than enough time to finish your chores.”
“That sounds fine. I'll still need to get Mama’s okay, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Tell George I’ll do it.”
“You're a lifesaver, Sara.” Jack’s whole demeanor seemed to lighten after that, the promise of additional assistance on the dock clearly serving to alleviate some of his stress.
I laughed, brushing off the compliment with the back of my hand. “I'm no such thing. Besides, I’m glad to help, and it’ll give me something to do in the afternoons. Sitting up there in that house all day can be maddening.”
“I know what you mean,” he said as he checked his line. “If I wasn’t working for George, I’d go stir-crazy.”
As the afternoon wore on, we pulled dozens of fish from the creek, our laughter ringing through the woods as each fish squirmed and flipped on the end of the poles.
My hands became a mess of scales and mud, but I didn’t mind.
I was too immersed in the simple joy of the moment, and the thrill of the new adventure waiting for me on the dock.
Now, all I had to do was sell the idea to Mother.