Dear Carolina (32 page)

When you plant them seeds in the ground, you got to believe that they're gonna sprout right up. If you just know real deep in your heart that they're gonna grow into somethin' amazing, that's half the battle. Khaki, she says all the rest a' life is like that too. She
says I learned how to open up and believe in good things. And they came right to me.

Maybe.

All I know is, on the same day Ricky got locked up for violating his restraining order and resisting arrest, that letter, it come from ECU. Mrs. Petty, she got some friend up in the admissions office that worked right hard on getting me in and all ready for the spring semester. And I was real proud. But I was also real sad because weren't no way I could afford to get outta here and go. I was so close to escaping Momma and Ricky and all my mistakes I could damn near taste it. But math, it don't lie. My scholarships would cover half. My canning and going to the markets, they'd get me through another fourth after I paid my living expenses. But that left a big ole chunk, a hole I didn't have no way to fill up. Didn't make no sense to come outta school with all sorts a' loans when you'd be doing the same job either way.

So I was gonna go online. It were right much cheaper. I could stay at Graham and Khaki's, keep you and Alex and Grace and pay my own way.

I am going to get an education.
I was trying to be real positive. Girls like me, we didn't get that kind of opportunity all too often.

But I found myself looking up to heaven anyhow. You know, just in case. “Lord, if you find it fit, I sure would like to get outta here and go to college.”

Graham and Khaki, they'd have paid my way. But I wouldn't let 'em. Ain't no way.

I got to breathing in all that fresh, freezing air on my way to the mailbox, feeling right selfish for wanting more and not counting my blessings. I sat on the curb, real sprawled out with the mail all over tarnation.

Right there, in the stack, was a big manila envelope addressed
to me. I held it away, all scared like, a postal worker in an anthrax scare. I weren't real sure I wanted to know what was in that package. ECU, they couldn't just take back my acceptance letter, could they? I breathed in real deep, ripped the top open, and there it was. The answer to my prayer, the best early Christmas present a girl could imagine. Right there was a big, thick contract for my cookbook. I unfolded a note from Patrick that said,
You're the only woman in the developed world who doesn't have e-mail. The entire board loves the cookbook. We'd like to publish it. Congrats! Two more of these checks will be coming—one when we finish the edits and one when the book comes out. Royalty information is enclosed. P.S. If we're going to work together you have to get an e-mail account!!

I flipped over that other thin, narrow piece of paper. It had my name on it right there in black ink. I got to gaspin' and feeling like I might pass out right on the curb. It was three thousand dollars. And I was gonna get two more a' them checks too.

Ask and ye shall receive. It'd been that easy. The advance check that Patrick weren't even sure I'd get had arrived. And so had I.

I cain't tell you how long I sat on that curb, bathing in the light of the sun, the way it warms you right through the cold, my eyes burnin' a hole in that check I stared at it so hard. I ain't never got one check that big in my entire life. It musta got to be five o'clock because Buddy drove by in that big, old diesel truck, honking the horn and rolling down the window. He put her into park. You could just leave your truck in the middle of the street because nobody ever came down the road anyhow.

“Whatcha doing there, girly?” he asked. He threw out the sprig of Lord only knows what that he'd plucked from the field and been chewing on.

I looked up at him real serious.

Then I whispered, “I asked God to help me go to college. He put this right in the mail.” I stood up and showed him my check.

Buddy whistled. But you could tell somethin' in his face, it had changed. It were like the teeny shift in the color of a green bean that lets you know it's been preserved. He turned to look at me, putting his hands on my shoulders, real dangerous like he might kiss me or something. But he just said, “Oh, Jodi. I'm so proud of you.”

Then I did something I ain't never done sober. I stood on my tiptoes, threw my arms around Buddy's neck, and kissed him right on the lips. And it wasn't like a first kiss, neither. None a' that awkwardness of whose lips go where and clankin' teeth. It was like that amazing second kiss, deep and slow and real passionate. I cain't tell you exactly how long it lasted, but it weren't like any kiss I'd ever had. It felt pure and sweet coming off his lips. It were right near, something like, well, love.

I give his hands a real tight squeeze, then I let go and started backing away toward the house.

“Hey, wait,” Buddy said. “Do you think—” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans and looked down at his boots, real fidgety. “Do you think I could maybe take you to dinner sometime once you get all settled in?”

Buddy, he was as nervous as a preschooler on his first day. But me, I was calm, cool, and collected. I put my hands in my back pockets. I had to bite my lip to keep the smile from ripping my face clean in two. “I think I'd like that.”

Then I turned real quick. And I got to tell you, baby girl, it's one of the best damn feelings in the world to have a man watch you walk away and know, deep in your heart, that he'd never let you wander too far.

SYNCHRONICITY

My boss, Anna, is always letting a younger associate pick paint colors or find a white linen for a couch. But I've never been too good at trusting anyone but myself.

Standing in Charlie and Greg's yard that afternoon, on a scarily warm January day, everyone lightheartedly crediting global warming, your birth momma squeezed my hand and said, “Can you believe she's one?” And I realized that everything I had been through over the past several years had been an exercise in trust. Trusting God, trusting Graham, trusting Jodi. And, though it hadn't seemed like it at the time, it had been exactly what I needed.

I looked over at my sister, her fiancé Fletcher, and her Hershey's Kiss–sized diamond. She had announced her engagement to the entire family earlier that day, all of us gathered at Charlie and Greg's gorgeously remodeled home celebrating two other marvelous events: your first birthday and your birth mother's official send-off to college. Anyone who could count could
realize that it was way past your birthday. We made the excuse that we were traveling and that we didn't want your birthday to get lost in the holiday celebrations. But the truth of the matter was, after the wrapping paper was cleared and the champagne drunk, this day, for your daddy and me, was a celebration that the dreaded statute of limitations year had passed. Come addiction claims or petitions for reversal or pleas of insanity, for the rest of our lives, no one could argue that you were our little girl.

Scott, Clive, Stacey, Joe, Bunny, and even Daniel had flown in for the occasion, to watch you, in your hand-smocked bubble with the birthday cakes, blow out that teeny candle and smash those gorgeous fingers into a mound of icing. You giggled, so did we, and, in that moment, standing between Graham and Daddy, watching Pauline and Benny fret over the birthday girl, I knew that everything I'd ever been through in my life, every heartbreaking event, bad decision, impenetrable loss had led to this one moment. I had my family and my health, and, in reality, that was all a girl could ask for.

Graham's arm appeared around my waist as if from nowhere, and he kissed my forehead. “Another one of our babies is already one.”

I could feel the tears springing to my eyes. I laid my head on his shoulder. “Where does the time go?” I whispered. I felt that familiar longing to be with my babies every second, to not let a moment pass. “When I close my eyes I feel like I just met you, lost in the fields, on the way to that pool party.” I lifted my head to kiss my husband's lips and heard Scott say, “Okay, guys. This is getting out of hand. Five more minutes, and you're going to look like Stacey again.”

“Five minutes?” Graham asked. “Dude, give me a little credit.”

Everyone laughed, and I looked over at my friend, her five-
months-pregnant belly roughly the same size as her husband Joe's. Stacey was, without a doubt, the most beautiful pregnant woman I had ever seen. She was the woman that “pregnant glow” was named for. Maybe it was all the yoga and green juice, but she was most in her element, most alive when she was pregnant. I shrugged. “Now that Anna bought the store, I do have a little more time on my hands.”

Graham winked at me, and Scott interrupted. “Since this is a day of grand celebration, we have a little news of our own.”

Clive and Scott smiled at one another and Clive said, pointing to Scott, “One of us is going to be a stay-at-home dad in a few weeks!”

I gasped, feeling, I'll admit to you, a little panicked. Scott had picked out everything I'd worn for the past decade. But, of course, I was thrilled for them. “Details!”

Scott smiled. “Clive was going on and on about a documentary about Ethiopian orphanages he saw, and I looked into it. Very, very long, convoluted, emotional story short, there's a little girl there waiting for us to pick her up.”

Stacey, with her hand on her belly, said, “I'll warn you, when you get there and see all those children, you'll want to bring about a dozen more home with you.”

“Please, God, don't bring one to us,” Graham said, and everyone laughed.

But then he turned to me and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged. We'd played around with the idea of adopting again.

Jodi's friend Marlene appeared at my side and whispered, “Thanks so much for the donation.”

I smiled, even though it irritated me that she was always trying to steal my husband. Not that I felt threatened in the least, but still. It was the principle. I might not have been on board with Marlene, but what I was on board with was her new job at
the pregnancy crisis management center. She wasn't too good at selling tangibles, but, after she convinced your birth mother to have you, Marlene realized that she'd finally found her calling. I put my arm around her—she was harmless, after all—and said, “Those girls are lucky to have you.” And I meant it.

Jodi appeared through the back door and said, “Well, guys, I hate to leave the party, but I think I better get going.”

She had driven back and forth to Greenville for her first few classes that semester so she could tie up some loose ends on the farm before she moved. Secretly, I hoped that she would be content with commuting and would change her mind about leaving us. But no such luck.

We had packed all of Jodi's things from her room upstairs into the old camp trunks Mother still had in her attic. That room that had been so full of Jodi's warmth and love felt so cold and empty now. And she'd sold that trailer—and its bad memories—to one of Graham's farmhands to help cover the last of her tuition. That little patch of land that had been her home for a short while was back to just a patch—but that row of red flowers would still come up every spring, waving in the breeze, an unlikely memorial. That square of land, the one Graham couldn't get a thing to grow on had, in the end, grown the most important thing of all: you.

I could feel the tears springing to my eyes yet again, realizing that I wasn't going to see Jodi every morning at the breakfast table in her pajamas and socks. I wanted to say so many things, but, to avoid looking like a total spaz at my child's birthday party, all I said was, “Are you sure you don't want us to drive you?”

Jodi shaded her eyes and said, “Buddy will get me all moved in just fine.”

I tried to imagine Jodi, so wise and unnecessarily seasoned, moving into a dorm room with some spoiled eighteen-year-old
who had no idea how the real world worked. When Jodi kissed you good-bye, I swear it was like the day she told us we could adopt you all over again. It damn near ripped my heart out to watch her walk away. I gave her a hard hug and kiss standing outside the running truck. “Come on now, Khaki,” Buddy said. “Don't get yourself all worked up. She's only a half hour away.”

“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I just love her, is all.”

Jodi squeezed me again, looked deep into my eyes, and said, “I'm gonna say this real quick so it all comes out without too much carrying on.” She smiled. “I know you're barely older than me, but I swear you've been the momma I never had.”

I could feel the tears running down my cheeks because I was so happy that Jodi was finally getting a chance that she deserved. I
was
a little like a proud momma. She put her hands on my shoulders and said, “I don't know how you do what you do, but I hope and pray that one day I can be half the woman you are.”

She cleared her throat and pointed back up at the house. “You and Graham, you coulda just took Carolina and walked away. But you didn't. You made me a part of a real family. And, even better, you did that for Carolina. And there ain't nothing that will ever in my whole life mean more than that.” She gave me a real quick, hard hug, and, the tears finally escaping from her eyes, said, “And that's why it's so dern hard to leave.”

Needless to say, I was a mess at that point. So I blew her a kiss, slammed the door, and did my sobbing on the way back up to Charlie's. She met me at the door with a hug and said, “I don't want to be around when one of your kids goes off to college.”

I shook my head. “They aren't going. They're going to live with me forever.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. Then she added, “Khak, this house is absolutely resplendent.”

I took a moment to admire the massive silver orb in the
entrance hall. The few modern touches in the classic home—the contemporary lighting, the abstract art, an unexpected accessory here and there—were what transformed it from Graham's momma to Charlie and Greg. It was my greatest decorating masterpiece to date. But then again, I say that about all my projects. And thank goodness. Who would want to work at anything if they didn't keep getting better as they went along?

“Frances,” a shrill Bunny shouted through the entrance hall. “Now that I've been here, I don't think you really applied yourself on my penthouse. I think we need to remodel.”

I sighed and flopped dramatically into a reproduction spindle chair that could take the sudden thud. I thought about the hours upon hours upon hours I had spent not a year ago finishing Bunny's new town house. “You asked for glamour and mirrors and chandeliers,” I said. “This place has more of a hunty, farmy, rustic air to it.”

Bunny crossed her arms. “So what you're saying is that we need a country house?”

I put my finger up. “No, I . . .” But before I could say anything she was off, yelling, “Honey!”

I shook my head. “He's going to be thrilled with me.”

Graham came in and handed you to me, saying, “She's doing something with her hands, but I don't know what.”

You were signing almost violently for strawberries. “She just wants strawberries,” I said to your daddy like he was dense.

He nodded. “Honey, I think it's great for you to teach the kids sign language. But if you don't teach it to me too, it doesn't do a lot of good.” Then he added, “I guess it's a good thing Jodi talked me into that hothouse. No way I could keep you girls in fruit all year round without it.”

Charlie and your daddy left to rustle up some strawberries for the birthday girl, and you leaned your head on my chest snuggling
up so close I could smell the icing on your breath. I took a mental Polaroid, savoring each second of this sweet, unlikely time alone like it was a long-awaited apology from a slow-to-concede friend.

You sat up, gave me your biggest, goofiest grin, and signed “I love you,” laying your head back down on my chest.

I kissed the sweet top of that head and said, “Oh baby girl, I love you too.” I rested my cheek on yours and said, “You can't even imagine.

It was so easy and so right that I couldn't conceive of what I had ever done without it. I think it was that moment that gave me the strength to let go. To let go of Alex's biological daddy. To let go of the life I had with him. To let go of New York. And I think it's the most shocked I've ever seen your daddy when he walked out of the kitchen with that plate of strawberries, and I said, “Let's sell the New York apartment.”

It struck me, the synchronicity of that moment, Jodi leaving Kinston for the first time, and me, after years of feeling torn in half, living a life in two different worlds, finally feeling like it was right to say that I wanted to come back home.

Graham licked the strawberry juice from his finger, squatted down in front of us in the chair, and said, “Are you sure about this, babydoll? You love New York.”

I smiled and shook my head. “No. I love my children. I love you.” I shrugged. “Besides, we can still visit all the time. It looks like Bunny's getting a country house, so there will be plenty of room for all of us.”

Graham smiled and squeezed my shoulder. “So you know you'll have at least one more New York design project. And, for what we were spending on that apartment, we can travel there in high style whenever you want.”

I nodded. “I think all of this other stuff—the store, the books,
the magazine articles, the rushing and pushing to be better and bigger—has gotten in the way of the pure love of the designing.” I thought about that open field and Graham and the kids again and shrugged. “I just want to get back to being that girl with her sketchbook and her swatches. Back to basics.”