Chapter 4 #2
We arrived on the outskirts of town in a neighborhood of ornate iron gates and high foliage that obscured the properties beyond.
The singer’s house wasn’t the gawdy mansion I expected, but rather a modest single-story colonial set back from the street in a dense thicket of trees.
When I exited the car, it was like stepping into the woods.
The woman who answered the door was as tall as me, with an aging dark-haired, freckled beauty. She was dressed in all black and garnet lipstick like a beatnik, but she gave off a sense of Southern society and a magnetic warmth I’d never encountered before.
For a moment, she just studied me with an intense gaze, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I was used to adults taking the lead. “Um, hi. I’m Rhea. You invited me for dinner?”
Her face spread into a grin and she laughed. “Well, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Rhea. I’m Hess.”
I had heard of Hess Walker, but I wasn’t very familiar with her music. Only that one song, “Lady in Black,” which my principal dedicated to his wife at every high school dance. It was the kind of song you heard at a gas station or a grocery store.
I put out my hand, but she took me by the shoulders instead and gave me a gentle hug. She smelled like wildflowers and hot stone, reminding me of a hiking trail back home, and I took another sniff, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
When I pulled back, she studied me intensely once more, and I wondered if she was looking for her. But then she seemed to give up, and she showed me inside.
The house was elegant but cozy with a level of sophistication I’d never seen in real life. I had always known luxury as giant TVs and tarped Jet Skis in the driveway, but this woman had taste.
The furniture was expensive and eclectic in rich-hued textures like dark wood and olive velvet. She had real art on her walls that featured naked women and abstract designs. Glinting gold awards were scattered among other artifacts like an owl’s white tail feather and a chunk of smoky quartz.
In the dining room, a redhead in a pink dress spotted me first and shrieked, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders. She smelled strongly of rose, and my stomach turned slightly. “Rhea! You’ve come back to us!!” she cried.
As soon as she released me, I was enveloped by a woman in a silver turtleneck I recognized as the R the buttered lushness of the chicken pot pie was making me high.
After the blueberry cobbler and ice cream, Hess put down her napkin and announced, “It’s time for a field trip,” and the other women smirked knowingly and topped off their wineglasses.
At the front door, Hess handed me a flashlight but advised me not to turn it on yet. Then we skipped out into the night, their giddiness fizzing in the darkness. The air was heavy and warm against my skin in a way the cool, dry California nights never were—I was wrapped up and held against it.
We walked out to the main road and took a left, strolling casually in the middle of the street. Tima and Phoebe giggled arm in arm with their wineglasses in the front, then came Hess and me, with Martha loping in the back smoking a cigarette and looking up at the stars.
On the right, we passed an enormous white-columned house on a hill like a Greek temple. It was cast in shadow, as if it’d been abandoned by its followers. Hess saw me studying it and explained in a low voice, “My parents’ house. Where I lived as a child.”
“Wow. It’s so… grand.”
She smiled. “People used to say that Nashville was the Athens of the South, which is why many of the mansions around here are Greek Revival. My parents bought into it big-time.”
“Do they still live there, or…”
“No, they moved to Florida decades ago. To be close to my sister and her family.”
She said this with a tinge of wistfulness, though I wasn’t sure for what. Maybe that was just how things sounded in Southern night air.
Hess continued, “What I remember about that house is silence—my parents didn’t like music being played unless it was classical at a dinner party, and even then, my mother sometimes found it a bit overwhelming.
” She paused. “But I loved this area with all of the huge, ancient trees.” She gestured around.
“It’s peaceful. Which is very different from silent for me.
Peace is a kind of safety that lets you create without fear. ”
I gazed around at the hulking, shadowed oaks, and I tried to see it. Feel it. There was definitely something here, but I wasn’t sure it was peace. In this place, everything felt more substantial, more dense with meaning.
“I know what you mean about the silence—it was like that in my house, too,” I said.
“With your aunt and uncle?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t against music, really—it was more like silence between us or something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, we never talked, because I don’t think they had a lot to say to me.”
“Did they mistreat you?”
“No, not exactly.” I considered mentioning my uncle’s creepiness, but I didn’t want to spoil the conversation with his stench. “They were just… indifferent, maybe? They didn’t want me there, but I also didn’t take up much space, so they just lived with it, I guess.”
Hess was quiet for a moment as we continued to stroll. “That sounds hard, Rhea. I’m sorry it was like that for you.”
Now I was embarrassed. “It wasn’t that bad. I could have been in the system, or whatever. There was a kid at school who didn’t have parents either, and I could tell his situation was pretty horrible. Honestly, I’m lucky. I don’t know why I complain.”
“But it shouldn’t have been that way. If your mother was still alive—” She paused, chastened. “I’m sorry, forgive me.”
I urged her on. “Please, don’t stop. What were you going to say?”
She took a deep breath. “Only that, even if it wasn’t so bad, you should have been loved.” She looked away. “Your mother loved you so much.”
My chest ached as it had earlier, this time more strongly than I’d ever felt it. I didn’t know what to say, or what other questions I had. It was all I needed to know in that moment—that my mother had loved me.
Hess went to say something else, but then Phoebe squealed up ahead, “We’re here!”
On the left stood a pink iron gate with BELLEWOOD written in gold metal cursive across the front.
“Is this…?”
“Yes, this was your mother’s house before she died. Your house.” Hess smiled and stepped up to a keypad off to the side where she poked a few buttons. The gate swung open, and Phoebe skipped through, waving her flashlight over her head.