“Why don’t you come home with us now, Lottie Lou?” she asks, turning me so I won’t have to stare at the coffin disappearing under clods of dirt thrown by the rest of the mourners. Men from the church will finish filling the grave once the others leave, but my grandmother’s friends are doing their parts with gusto.
“Preacher Pittman can drive you home after supper.” Mrs. Pittman bites her lip, as if the thought of my returning home without my grandmother to protect me is disturbing. Normally the neighbors would go up to the house after the funeral. Food would be served and memories exchanged, but no one is about to go to our house, knowing Hearty Hale will be the one waiting there.
A few other mourners are closing in to mouth their condolences, and I must speak quickly.
“You’re very kind, but I made other plans.” I hesitate, then lower my voice. “I’m going to Asheville. Bill Johnston’s taking me. He’s got flowerpots to deliver this afternoon, and I guess you could say he’s delivering me right along with them.”
“Asheville?” Mrs. Pittman sounds puzzled. “Do you have family there? Friends?”
“I have some money Gran saved for me. I’ll find a job. I just can’t live here no—anymore.”
Mrs. Pittman clears her throat. “Are you afraid to be alone with your father?”
I know what she’s worried about, but I shake my head. “Not like what you mean.”
“Then don’t you think you ought to wait until you have something lined up? Maybe we could help find you—”
“I can’t stay another minute,” I say. “I already packed, and my stuff is in Bill’s truck. He picked up my suitcase when he took me to the church. There’s nothing keeping me here. It’s time to move on with my life.”
“Your father—”
“Is a worthless no-good, even when he’s sober. And there’s nothing I can do to change him, but he’ll drag me down if I stay. Gran warned me he would, and she was right.”
Mrs. Pittman doesn’t argue, because what is there to say, even for a preacher’s wife? “What about the farm?”
“I guess he’s welcome to it.” The people waiting impatiently on the sidelines begin to move in.
“Does he know?”
“He’ll find out soon enough.”
Soon enough comes sooner than I expect. When just about everyone else has gone, after Preacher Pittman has silently pressed two twenty-dollar bills into my palm along with his phone number, I turn and see Bill Johnston pull his pickup around so he’s headed down our driveway. I know Bill hoped to get an earlier start into the city, and the time has come to leave—and quickly. But before I can get in the front, I see my father staring into the bed of Bill’s pickup, squinting at the small suitcase that once belonged to my mother, one he clearly recognizes.
“What’s that doing there?” Hearty claps a hand on my shoulder as I try to pass.
I had hoped to simply tell him that Bill Johnston was taking me to a friend’s, but I can’t think of any lie that involves the suitcase, too. I decide the time has come for the truth.
“Mr. Johnston’s taking me down to Asheville.” I shrug off Hearty’s hand. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” He seems unable to comprehend the word.
“That’s right. I’m going to start a new life.”
“With what?”
I ponder that a moment. I’m leaving home, setting out for an uncertain future, and Hearty has only zeroed in on what for him is the crucial question. How have I gotten enough money to make this escape, and how can he get it away from me?
“I’ll miss you, too, Hearty,” I say, leaning close. “Thanks for the good times and good wishes.”
His eyes narrow. “Where’d you get the money to leave?”
“Gran left me just enough to get away from you. She did the best she could.”
“How much?”
I shake my head. “Don’t matter. You aren’t getting a cent of it.”
“Who’s going to take care of things?”
The switch is so sudden, it takes me a moment to catch up. “Things?”
“The farm? Get me dinner when I’m home? Take care of things!”
“I have no idea. Maybe you’ll figure that out.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Try and stop me.” I hear Bill’s door slam and his footsteps as he rounds the cab.
“It’s your job to stay and take care of…things!”
I see Bill come up behind my father. “Can we leave now?” I ask.
Bill is a substantial man, outweighing Hearty by fifty pounds and topping him by at least four inches. Right now I’m glad for all the years and pounds of his wife’s deep-fried country cooking.
“You can’t take her,” Hearty says.
“I don’t want a fight,” Bill responds. “But the girl’s going where she wants to.”
Hearty considers that. I can almost see him weighing his options. Winning a fight with the well-fed Bill isn’t one of them. He turns back to me.
“You leave now, I’ll give my share of this farm your grandma loved so much to one of my drinking buddies when I die. You won’t be able to get your hands on my piece of it.”
I shrug because I’m fairly sure that Hearty will destroy the farm before it comes to that, burn down the house, whatever it takes.
“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,