One Mountain Away

“Or that ridge land of mine, neither,” he says, when he sees I’m not impressed enough. “You won’t get a square inch of it.”

From his own family Hearty has inherited land too steep for anything but logging, something Hearty does when he absolutely has to earn money. The more valuable Hale land was left to his four sober sisters, who stayed away from Hearty and, by extension, me, as if what ailed their baby brother might be catching. The ridge land was a blessing, because when he was there hauling out trees, Hearty was gone for days.

“You’re welcome to everything,” I say. “I don’t want to lay eyes on you again. Not ever. You can drink yourself to death, or sober up and change your ways. Makes no difference to me.”

I glance at Bill and see that the last part of my speech dismayed him. I know I sounded heartless, so I sigh and add, “Of course, for your sake, Hearty, I hope you can change.”

“I want some of that money your grandmother gave you. Right now.” He holds out his trembling hand, palm up. “I deserve it.”

“The girl’s heading for a new life, and you want to steal her money?” Bill asks.

“If she’s got money, it came from this farm. I own part of the farm.”

Bill shakes his head, and this time he shoots me a sympathetic glance. “We’re going now.” Bill reaches around Hearty and takes my arm.

I skirt my father and step up to the running board. Bill’s wife, Zettie, moves over to the middle to make room for me, then she leans over and opens the door. “You get inside, Lottie Lou. And don’t you give that man one red cent.”

I slide inside, but Hearty holds on to the door. “You got nothing for your father?” he says.

“That’s what you gave me my whole life.” I have to force the words past a sudden lump in my throat. Hearty Hale is my father, and while I despise him, he is my blood and my past. Suddenly the future looks very frightening, more frightening than I had anticipated.

“That’s what you’ll get if you leave me,” Hearty says. “I’m warning you.”

Bill has already circled the truck, and now he slams his door shut and starts the engine. Without another word he starts forward. I grab the door handle, and when my father loses his grip on it, I slam the door shut.

A part of me knows I ought to turn my head for one more look at the man who sired me. I will not come back. These will be our final moments together. But I don’t turn. I hold tight to the door handle all the way down to Asheville.

Chapter Eight

HARMONY AWOKE IN a strange bed, and for a moment panic filled her. She had been dreaming of home, of the muffled footsteps of her mother wearing the slippers Harmony had given her as a birthday gift. Before that, no matter the season, Janine Stoddard had tiptoed around the house in her bare feet, because she had been afraid of prematurely waking Harmony’s father.

Harmony’s childhood had been all about walking on tiptoes, about muffling laughter or tears, about apologies. The dream was no surprise, but this bed and this room startled her into stillness. She was afraid to move, afraid to cry out. And whose name would she call, anyway?

Slowly the events of last night came back to her. Her shift at Cuppa, the man who had succeeded in making her feel small and stupid. The chunks of salad spread on the floor with dressing pooling beside…

She wouldn’t think of that now.

Charlotte Hale, who had witnessed everything, had found her lying in the backseat of her Buick. Her cheeks burned at the memory. She had been afraid to park on a darker side street until it was okay to go back to Jennifer’s. Instead, she had parked far enough away from Cuppa to feel certain no one would spot her. When she’d returned to the car after her shift, she had stretched out in the back as best she could, an army blanket rolled under her head and another pulled over her.

She had wondered where Davis was at that moment—and with whom. She had wondered exactly why she was alive.

Then she’d opened her eyes to see Charlotte Hale staring down at her.

Now she was in the woman’s mansion, because Harmony could think of no other word for this house. It was a home beyond any she had ever been inside, with a front hall as large as Jennifer’s entire apartment. She had been stunned as they walked to the kitchen, scuffing her soles over rugs as soft as pillows, winding through rooms with sky-high ceilings. She had been unable to stomach more than a glass of milk, and as she’d sipped, she had gaped at what had to be a place where food would be smart enough, confident enough, to cook itself without interference.

Charlotte—because that was what she insisted on being called—had seen how exhausted and upset Harmony was, and she had led her here, to a green-and-yellow bedroom with polished cherry furniture and a bathroom Harmony would be content to live in. Charlotte had returned with a nightgown that was inches too short but otherwise perfect, told her where to find a new toothbrush, soap and anything else she desired, then abandoned her.

Now, gazing up at the ceiling, Harmony was once again amazed. Even the ceiling was extraordinary. It was high, like all the ones she’d noted last night, but the center was marked by a plaster medallion that would look at home in a palace. She thought she identified grapes and the faces of cherubs. The ceiling curved down into sage green walls, and where it did, there was more adornment, plaster ivy, flowers, birds. In another era artists might have labored for months creating these scenes. Now she imagined there were shortcuts and factory-produced enhancements that could be quickly added by construction workers, but she was still awed by the time and expense, if not by the art itself.

She only moved her eyes. She didn’t move her head. In the past week she’d learned that lesson. When she awoke it was important not to move quickly, to let her body adjust and prepare. Then she could get up by degrees, swinging her legs over the bed in slow motion, pushing up an inch at a time until she was sitting on the edge. If she was lucky she’d remembered to put her purse beside her, and packs of saltines from Cuppa’s vast supply waited there for nibbling. If she didn’t move quickly, if she took her time slowly eating a morsel at a time, she would not have to run gagging to the perfect marble bathroom with its multinozzle shower and spa tub.

She wondered if there would be time for a shower after she finally rose. By now Charlotte would surely be asking herself why she had invited a stranger to her home. One look around had proved there was so much here worth stealing. The house was filled with valuable art; even this room had china figurines that were clearly not from the Walmart housewares department. Of course, Harmony had never stolen so much as a toothpick. Even the saltines in her purse were courtesy of her manager.

Fifteen minutes later she was on her feet and holding steady. The saltines had, as she’d hoped, calmed her roiling stomach. She debated a shower, and in the end, she couldn’t resist. Inside the marble-tile enclosure three separate sprays pummeled her from behind. The showerhead itself had more settings than Davis’s state-of-the-art flat-screen television, but the warm water made her nauseous, and she didn’t stay long.

She dressed in yesterday’s rumpled skirt and Cuppa T-shirt, which were all she had until she could get back to Jennifer’s apartment to rummage through her suitcases for something clean. She pulled her wet hair back from her face and fastened it with the same band she’d used last night. Then she went to find Charlotte.

She realized it was possible her hostess might still be asleep. Harmony had always been an early riser. She’d never had an opportunity to be anything else. As a child, if she wanted time in the family bathroom before school, she’d needed to get up at dawn, because once her father and brother, Buddy, were up, the house and everything in it belonged to them. In the summer she’d been required to get up by six to help Buddy bag newspapers for his route.

Since leaving home she hadn’t lived anywhere she could be comfortable sleeping in. Even when she had lived with Davis, she’d felt obligated to cook an early breakfast before he left for his office. He had never told her she had to, but he’d made enough snide jokes about “kept women” that she’d known better than to become one.

Charlotte’s house was easy to get lost in. Harmony paid attention as she tiptoed through the hallway looking for her hostess and still ended up in a mahogany-paneled study by mistake. She left that quickly, and later, the dining room, although she could swear she’d also seen a dining room off the entry way. A house with two dining rooms perplexed her. Separate dinner parties? Would the guests realize they had competition for their hostess from the other side of the house?

She found the kitchen at last, guided by the smell of coffee brewing. While she’d given it up, the smell was enticingly familiar, and her stomach behaved. She stepped in and saw Charlotte wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and standing at the stove.

“Good morning,” she said tentatively.

Charlotte turned and smiled at her. The smile was so welcoming that Harmony felt her tension ease.

“I hope I didn’t wake you while I puttered around in here,” Charlotte said.

“This house is so big, I think you could drill for oil and I wouldn’t hear you.” The moment she said it, Harmony wondered if she’d sounded critical, but before she could apologize, Charlotte laughed.

“On top of that, the builder did everything he could to soundproof the rooms. Maybe he thought it was destined for a large noisy family.”

Harmony moved closer, then took a seat at the island when Charlotte waved in that direction. “It’s an amazing house. Really.”

“I could say you don’t know the half of it, and I would be right. It goes on and on and on, and you haven’t even been upstairs. If you were wearing hiking boots, I’d give you a tour.”

Harmony relaxed a little more. “I really can’t thank you enough for—”

Charlotte held up her hand. “It was so little, Harmony. Were you comfortable?”

“More than comfortable. That’s the most wonderful bed I’ve ever slept in.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I think you might be the first person to try out the mattress.”

“It’s new?”

Charlotte hesitated just a moment. “Just unused. I don’t have many guests.” She held up a coffeepot. “Ready for some of this?”

Harmony shook her head. “I…I don’t drink coffee. I mean, at least not right now.”

Charlotte nodded. “Tea?”

Harmony wasn’t sure that she should have tea, either. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to drink. “I…” She shook her head.

“Orange juice, then?”

“Oh, that would be perfect. But I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Now if you’d been here yesterday morning, you might have been. My refrigerator was practically empty. But not today, so I’m delighted to share. Let’s figure out what we should eat. I have bread for toast, fresh berries, yogurt. I almost never cook anymore, but I can do that much.”

“This kitchen never gets used?” Harmony couldn’t believe it. She was a Food Network groupie, and she was pretty sure Giada, Rachel and Paula had never seen a kitchen better equipped than this.

“I know. It hardly seems fair, but I’m afraid it’s used only rarely,” Charlotte said. “And then mostly by caterers if I’m putting on a dinner party. The rest of the time I eat out or snack.”

Harmony realized she was actually hungry. In fact, she tried to remember when she’d last eaten. Yesterday afternoon, she thought. A Cuppa wrap purchased with her employee discount. She was going to have to do better—and fast.

“Everything sounds good,” she said.

“Wonderful. It sounds good to me, too. Let’s eat everything in one fell swoop.”

“Have you ever wondered what that means? Have you ever seen any swooping fells?”

Charlotte’s laugh was low, almost sultry, and somehow didn’t fit with her uptown bearing. “Not lately. Swooping fellows, maybe, in singles’ bars, but I haven’t seen any of those in decades.”

“They’re still there, only now they come with their latest blood test clutched in one hand and industrial-strength condoms in the other.” Harmony realized what she’d said and wondered if she ought to just take a vow of silence.

“Then I’m guessing that’s not how you got pregnant,” Charlotte said, after a brief pause.

Harmony hung her head. “How did you guess?”

“Well, I have a daughter. And while I had her a long time ago, I’ve never forgotten the thrill of morning sickness all day long. I figured it out last night.”

“No, I didn’t meet the father in a singles’ bar.” Harmony cleared her throat. “We were living together, but I moved out when I realized I wasn’t the only woman he was sleeping with.”

“And I’m guessing this was recent, and the reason you’re sleeping on a girlfriend’s sofa?”

Harmony nodded. “Three weeks ago. I…I didn’t know I was pregnant until last week, at least not for sure.”

“This must be a confusing time for you. And it probably doesn’t help that you don’t have your own place.”

“One of the baristas at Cuppa might know of a room for rent. She promised she’d check for me.”

“Networking, huh?”

Harmony looked up and made a wry face. “She’s not very reliable, but Jennifer’s lease runs out at the end of June, and she said if I haven’t found something else by then, maybe we can rent something bigger together.”

“So you’re making plans.”

“It will work out.”

Charlotte didn’t answer. She got food out of the refrigerator and turned down Harmony’s offer of help. She put bread in the toaster, then dished yogurt into bowls and washed berries to go with it, setting things on the island as she worked.

Harmony watched closely. Charlotte Hale was a stranger, but there were clues as to what kind of woman she was. She was middle-age, with hands that were well-cared for and hair that was probably touched up but naturally that deep shade of red, since it fit so perfectly with the creamy tones of her skin. Jennifer worked at an expensive salon, and she was always pointing out things like that.

Charlotte was probably around the age of Harmony’s own mother, but she looked much younger because she had time and money to take care of herself, and a belief that she had the right, something Harmony’s own mother lacked. She was probably from somewhere in the South, although Harmony guessed her educated drawl hadn’t come from here, but perhaps from someplace less “mountain,” like Atlanta or Charlotte. The latter would even explain her name. She moved with grace, but slowly, as if she wasn’t certain her body was up to the tasks she’d set for it this morning.

She was clearly rich. Unless she was the housekeeper for the real owner. Harmony smiled, because she was pretty sure that was not the case.

Charlotte closed the refrigerator. “Would you like to eat here? In the breakfast room?”

“Here’s great,” Harmony said. Her stomach was rumbling now, and the breakfast looked perfect.

“Oh, good. My choice, too.” Charlotte slid everything closer to her guest, and motioned for her to take a plate and dish up.

“When we finish, I’ll leave,” Harmony said, in case that hadn’t been clear. “And I’ll find a way back to my car. You don’t have to worry. Jennifer can—”

“There’s no hurry. Unless you have an early shift at Cuppa?”

“No, I go on at four. I just need to go back to Jennifer’s and change clothes before I go in.” Harmony dug into her breakfast, which couldn’t have tasted better.

“This is none of my business…” Charlotte had settled beside her and was dishing berries over a small dollop of yogurt as she spoke.

“You want to know about the baby, right?”

“Only what you want to tell me.”

Harmony wondered if Charlotte was part of one of those organizations that made it their mission to talk girls like Harmony out of abortion. She wondered if that was why Charlotte had invited her here, because she had guessed Harmony was pregnant and possibly alone.

That all made sense, although Charlotte wasn’t pushy, the way Harmony had imagined someone with that agenda would be. Somehow it didn’t really fit, because she didn’t seem to be selling anything.

“I wasn’t planning to get pregnant,” Harmony said. “I was pretty careful. I guess pretty careful wasn’t careful enough.”

“I’ve been there. I understand.”

Harmony thought maybe there was a sisterhood of “pretty careful” women who had been faced with decisions like hers. She was afraid to ask Charlotte’s story, although she wished she knew.

“Davis doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet.”

“I’m sure you have a good reason.”

Harmony found herself relaxing again. “I guess I don’t want him telling me what to do. He likes to do that. When I lived with him, I let him. His place, his rules. But all my life, other people have told me what I should do, and now, well, I need to figure this out myself. Because this baby won’t matter nearly as much to anybody else as it will to me. So that means I have to be the one to decide things.”

“That makes sense to me, although you sound pretty certain the baby won’t matter as much to Davis.”

“He doesn’t like children.”

“So you’re pretty sure what he’ll say when you tell him?”

“He won’t be happy.”

Charlotte reached over and rested her hand on Harmony’s. “There’s good news. He can’t make you do anything you don’t want. Nobody can.”

“It’s just…well, it’s just going to be a little crazy for a while. I just have some hard thinking to do.”

“Right. Without interference.”

Harmony was glad to hear those last two words. “I’ve been thinking about making a list. You know, of things I need to do and things to decide. Maybe then I could figure them out faster. Check things off…”

Charlotte passed the plate of toast, and Harmony gladly took another piece. The bread was wonderful, and Charlotte had put real butter on it. She tried to remember the last time she’d had real butter on toast. Davis had insisted on olive oil spread because he wanted to live forever.

“What’s going to be at the top of the list?” Charlotte asked. “Have you gotten that far?”

“Finding a place to live.”

“Sounds like you have definite priorities.”

“That’s number one, for sure. I’ve still got to save up a little more, even if Jennifer and I get a place together. I’ve been working extra shifts, and I saved some money when I lived with Davis, but then I had car problems, and there was a month when Cuppa closed down while they finished the renovations.” Harmony wondered why she was telling Charlotte all this, and decided it was because Charlotte was listening. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had really listened to her.

“I like the way you think,” Charlotte said. “You’ve got important decisions, but I’m guessing you want to be settled before you get too much further.”

“I need a better job, too. Something with regular hours and insurance. The baby deserves that. And once I have to pay for child care…” Harmony shook her head. “But one step at a time, right?”

“I imagine this is scary, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.”

“May I tell you a story?”

As nice as it had been to have somebody listen to her, Harmony was glad to be out of the spotlight. “About you?”

“About me, yes. Because when it’s finished, I’m going to tell you that the guest room where you stayed last night, or any guest room in the house, is yours as long as you need time to figure things out.” Charlotte held up her hand to stave off Harmony’s protests. “Let me tell the story first, then we’ll get back to that. Okay?”

Harmony couldn’t say no. How could she refuse such a small thing, when in the past ten hours Charlotte Hale had made her feel like a whole person again?

* * *

Charlotte watched her houseguest’s expressions as she recounted the story of her grandmother’s funeral, the same one she’d written in her journal that morning before Harmony woke up. After finding Harmony in the car last night, that day had been very much on her mind, and sharing it with the young woman now seemed natural, although in her whole life she’d only told it to one other person.

Ethan.

“So you left home? You just drove away?” Harmony asked, after Charlotte finished.

Charlotte pulled herself back to the present and nodded gravely. “We just drove away.”

“You were terrified. I know you were.”

Charlotte decided not to take Harmony’s comment at face value. “I’m guessing something like that may have happened to you?”

Harmony bit her bottom lip. Then she nodded. “I left home, just like you. I…I couldn’t stay. My father didn’t drink, but he’s not a nice man.”

Charlotte sat quietly and waited, but Harmony didn’t go on, so she said, “A bad father should make us appreciate the good men in our lives when we find them, but we’re not always able to without practice.”

“Sometimes I still believe the things my father said about me.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re reconsidering them.”

Harmony smiled a little. “What happened next? After you got to town?”

“It was pretty awful.” Charlotte glanced out the window at the expansive lawn stretching away from the house, at the dogwoods in bloom, the magnolias in bud. She hadn’t gotten this far in her journal, and it was hard to find the right words. It had been awful. She still felt a stab of fear when she thought about it, even though she had worked so hard in the intervening years to put that day behind her.

“I didn’t know anybody. I didn’t have any place to go.” She turned back to Harmony. “Was it that way for you when you arrived?”

“I had a friend from middle school who had moved here. That’s why I chose Asheville. Her family gave me a place to stay for the summer, but they’re gone now, living in California. Still, they helped me get on my feet, find a job and car, make some new friends….”

Charlotte didn’t point out that Harmony’s security net was still full of rips and tears. No one knew that better than the girl herself.

“I had a little money,” Charlotte said, “but not much. What the preacher gave me, the little my grandmother had been able to save. It was late by the time we got to town. Bill and Zettie took me to a cheap hotel, and they paid for a week, even though I hated that, because I knew they couldn’t afford it. They told me to call if I couldn’t find a job or a place to live, and they would come and get me. But I knew if they did, I’d never come down from the mountains again, that I’d never find a different path.”

“You must have found one,” Harmony said, looking around, because Charlotte’s house spoke for itself.

“It was the end of the week, and I had one more night at the hotel. I’d walked everywhere, talked to everybody. I bought a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter on sale, and that’s what I ate every day until it was gone, then I bought more. Nobody wanted me. Nobody needed me. I didn’t have any experience. I didn’t have the right kind of clothes. I was desperate, but what does that mean?” She looked at Harmony. “Call the preacher or the Johnstons and admit I’d failed? Rob a bank?”

The last got a smile out of Harmony. “It kind of looks like you did,” she said. “That would explain things.”

Charlotte was glad her story was helping, and telling it was easier than she’d expected. “I was sitting in a café, reading the paper, hoping I’d missed something, some job I could apply for, some lead, anything at all. Two women came in and sat next to me, and ordered breakfast. I’d ordered the day’s special. One egg, a slice of toast, a cup of coffee. Ninety-nine cents. Do you believe that price?”

“Where is that place?”

“Closed, I’m sorry to say. The women ordered these huge breakfasts. Bacon and sausage and French toast. I was so hungry I wanted to steal the food right off their plates.” She saw that Harmony understood, and she reached over and touched her hand again. “You know, I’ve never told anybody that part before.”