At my vehicle, I paused, my eyes finding a CD sitting in the seat, the disc kept safe by a plastic sleeve. Opening the door, I picked it up and climbed in. I pulled out of the lot, my speed faster than usual, taking the curves and roads without really looking at them until I was parked once more at the plantation.
Inside, I picked up Heathcliff’s shoes, taking them with me into the living room as I placed the CD he’d left me in my uncle’s stereo system. The system was an old one, the kind that had a place for CDs and cassettes, a record player sitting on top.
At first, when I pushed play, there was nothing, but about a half a minute in, guitar music started, full of country and heartache, joined soon by Heathcliff’s voice. Max was a good singer, not the best in the world, but good, and I sat on the floor, his shoes in my lap.
There’s a wild girl, surrounded by hair and dreams.
Her heart is mine, her soul a beautiful beacon.
Her mind is a busy place, full of scars and ripped seams.
Her life is a rough ride.
A potholed mess, no clean straightaway.
But I’ve got a truck with four wheel drive and too many places to go.
It can handle the strife, can plunge through the broken asphalt.
It’s a hard road, baby, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
To be a part of that life,
Those dreams, that wild, passionate girl.
There’s truth in sadness, no shame in letting go.
We’ve got a long way to travel. It’s easier with someone who knows the road.
A long way to travel, a long way to go.
Hold on, darlin’, and quit looking at your shoes.
Look at the road ahead and hang on.
We’ve got this, one way or another, no matter the dues.
It’s you, me, and a world we still need to own.
It’s a hard road, baby, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
To be a part of that life,
Those dreams, that wild, passionate girl.
There’s truth in sadness, no shame in letting go.
We’ve got a long way to travel. It’s easier with someone who knows the road.
A long way to travel, a long way to go.
When I’m gone, and you’re alone.
Keep travelin’ that road. Keep drivin’ over those potholes.
Together, we’re great. Alone, you’re even stronger.
Own the world, baby. It’s yours. Own the world.
There’s truth in sadness, no shame in letting go.
You’ve got a long way to travel. It’s easier with someone who knows the road.
But alone, you’re stronger. Own the world.
You’ve got a long way to go.
A long way to go.
The song ended, and for a long time, I simply sat there, the tune ringing in my head. In the end, even in his absence, Heathcliff had left me a gift. He’d left me a song, a pair of shoes, and a reason to fly.
It was enough.
Five years later …
Chapter 21
“We really need to talk about our uniforms,” Rebecca grumbled, stomping into the kitchen, her hands on her hips.
Amused, I glanced at her. “We don’t have uniforms.”
She frowned. “That’s what I mean. We need them.”
Some things never changed. At twenty-three years old, Rebecca wasn’t much different than she’d been at eighteen; the only change her bigger breasts and somewhat jaded opinion of men. Two failed marriages in five years would do that to a person. Her second divorce was still in the filing process. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been for the settlement she’d received from her first marriage, For My Sake Catering never would have become a reality.
My gaze roamed over my uncle’s kitchen, the recent renovations allowing for a bigger oven, cooling racks, and a walk-in freezer area. Strangely, even after four years of college, a year interning in France, and remodels on the plantation, I still had a hard time seeing For My Sake Plantation as mine. My uncle’s spirit felt too big here, as if no amount of time would ever be enough to truly overcome the grief. Time brought healing, but it didn’t get rid of the heartache, the empty place his passing left behind.
“Have you looked at the order I put in this morning?” Rebecca asked.
I shook myself, my head shooting up. “What order?”
She sighed. “I know I put it around here somewhere.”
Rebecca and I had remained faithful friends over the past five years, her local business degree coming in handy when a night of drunken celebration somehow translated into a joint business venture. It was the last time I ever drank hard liquor with Rebecca.
“And here you’re worried about uniforms,” I said on a laugh.
She threw me a look, knocking over a stack of ledgers to get to a pack of hot pink sticky notes. “It was for the Vincents,” she murmured, her gaze flicking from the table to my face. Pulling off the top note, she handed it me.
Sucking in a breath, I glanced down at Rebecca’s scrawling script, and then exhaled. “Wow. What is this for? A wedding?” There were two cakes on order, both of them with elaborate descriptions, as well as four dozen petit fours.
She shrugged. “I hope not. There’s only one unmarried Vincent of age.”
The pulse in my neck quickened, the sudden lump in my throat an unnecessary evil. Max Vinent. Heathcliff.