WHEN THINGS GO SOUTH

Chapter 13 - Home Sweet Home

The first night at the farm with Anthony, Jordy, and Rhett is nothing short of magical.

I can't remember ever being this happy. We take a walk by the pond where Daffodils are hidden, trying to make their way out of the dirt, weeds, and blades of grass to be kissed by the sun. Memories flood my mind. Anthony and the kids love hearing all the stories of my and Lyle's farm adventures.

I tell them about an afternoon when Lyle and I got off the bus and raced to the house to see who could get their fishing pole and get down to the pond the fastest.

I won, and as I stood at the edge of the muddy water to cast my line, I hooked right into Lyle's forehead as he was walking down the hill behind me.

When I saw what I did, I ran past Lyle to the house to get Granny Ree, screaming and crying. "Help, help! I stabbed Lyle right in the head, probably in his brain!"

You would have thought I killed him. Granny Ree takes off frantically, running down the hill in her dress and apron, pale-faced with sheer fear in her eyes.

But, of course, it turned out to be nothing more than a tiny cut on his head. But it's a wonder I didn't give poor Granny Ree a heart attack.

I tell them my memory of my first horse Daddy bought me and brought to the farm. Lyle and I were standing at the back screen door when Daddy pulled up in the horse trailer and led her out. Lyle asked what I wanted to name her. I was eating a piece of candy and answered, "Candy! That's gonna be her name." I notice Jordy's eyes start beaming.

Then she starts begging, "This is the perfect place to have a horse! Please, Momma, please, Daddy, can I have one? If you show me how I promise I will take good care of it!"

Anthony shrugs his shoulders, "Why not? You are the most mature twelve-year-old I know. I think you would be a great horse owner. As a matter of fact, I think we each need a horse."

I laugh, "okay, hold on a minute. You are definitely not a cowboy, and I don't know much about taking care of horses."

Anthony replies, "Well, I guess we will just have to learn. I'm sure your Daddy wouldn't mind coming out and getting us started."

He is right. Daddy would love that; my Daddy reminds me of someone like Wyatt Earp in an old western movie. He has owned horses since I was a little girl until he moved away to work on the pipeline. Anthony is also right about Jordy; she is mature, intelligent, and very levelheaded.

She reminds me of myself at that age. Still, she has more of those qualities than I did, more mature, more intelligent, more levelheaded. She is also more innocent. She hasn't experienced the world as I did as a child. I guess I have kept her in a bubble trying to protect her and her innocence. I wish I could shelter her from all bad things, and every broken heart. She's my daughter; she's bound to have a few. I pray Jordan (she asked us to stop calling her Jordy when she became a pre-teen) can make better decisions. If it's even possible, I think she has a softer, bigger heart than mine. I just hope her brain is bigger.

Rhett chimes in, "I don't care about a horse. I just want a new basketball."

Anthony replies, "So no pets for you, buddy?"

Rhett thinks for a minute, "How about a basketball and a dog?"

"Good idea," Anthony replies. Rhett is much more like Anthony. He is more into sports than anything. Rhett is also quiet; he doesn't express his feelings much. Jordan is like me and wears her heart on her sleeve.

That night we roasted marshmallows on the brick firepit in the front yard, under the big black oak tree. Our little farmhouse has turned out perfect to us.

We have worked so hard the past few months remodeling the house. Anthony and I were here every night after work, cleaning, painting, and working on the yard.

I planted a rose bush right underneath the master bedroom window; they were always Granny Ree's favorite. We left the old swing on the back porch, the one Granny Ree and I used to sit on and peel potatoes; we just cleaned it up and stained it. We had a contractor come in and add another bedroom and bath, but Anthony and I did most of the work ourselves. We made sure to stay true to the character and warmth the house has always held. I loved doing the work. There is something so rewarding about taking something broken and fixing it, something old and making it new again, restoring it. Maybe that was my problem with men too. I wanted to fix them, restore them just like an old house.

Momma always said I was like a magnet for broken souls.

I'm sure I will miss our little cottage house on Grahams Wells Road. Moving so much as a child, I had always got homesick for the place before. Not this time. This was home.

That night Anthony and I lay in the hammock and watch and laugh as Jordan and Rhett play hide and seek in the front yard. They remind me so much of Lyle and me. I lay on the hammock with Anthony's arms wrapped securely around me. With my eyes closed, the sounds of the crickets chirping, children laughing, and the screen door slamming, it's like Granny Ree at any moment would holler out the screen door, y'all come and eat.

With the gentle breeze flowing over my body and Anthony's breath at my neck sending goosebumps from my head to my toes, I try not to let my mind take this moment away, trying to convince me this is all too good, something bad is bound to happen. Instead, I just push those thoughts away, sink into Anthony, and savor the sweetness of the sounds of life.

The cold winter months on the farm were just the same as they had been when I was a child. Christmas was just as I remembered it.

Anthony and I took the kids out in the woods on the backside of the farm to cut down a Douglas Fir; we placed it in front of the window in the same spot Granny Ree always did. The smell of the live tree, the tradition of country ham and biscuits on Christmas morning, the large colored bulbs that seemed to dance to the Burl Ives Christmas album playing on the turntable, it all inspires a perfect sense of nostalgia.

This year's heavy snows started in December and would come and go until February. This was the first time in a long time that snow didn't bring back the images of Nick. Now, the images are once again of a frozen glistening pond, tree branches drooping with heavy snow, children building a snowman with button eyes, and a carrot nose that Rhett's dog Scout circles and barks at like he's a burglar standing in the yard.

February first is Lyles' birthday. I plan a surprise party for him on the farm. This place means as much to Lyle as it does to me. Momma brings Daddy Number Seven and an amazing German Chocolate Cake (she bought, of course.) Daddy brings his new girlfriend, who puts me in mind of Dolly Parton, just not as well endowed. A few of Lyle's lifelong friends and their dates, and of course, Lyle and his girlfriend Heather, are all here. Heather and I have become very close.

If I could have handpicked a girl for Lyle, she would be it. She is thoughtful and selfless, not to mention she is gorgeous, with big dark eyes and auburn hair, and she loves Lyle with all her heart. We had the best evening. Lyle loves being here.

We all sat around the kitchen table, telling old memories and making new ones. Lyle is the best storyteller; he talks with his hands and his eyes, his expressions put you right in the moment.

Lyle tells stories about taking me to the water well on the back of the farm and leaving me when I was a baby, hoping the Indians would come and get me.

He tells how he wanted to name me Kojak after his favorite television actor. Lyle had us all laughing until we cried. It's been so long, if ever, that our entire family was this settled and this happy.

I should have known not to get too comfortable with peace and happiness. It always turns on me like a bad friend.