Hart (2 page)

Was she from a big city?

Did she assume all people/all men from a small southern town couldn't read?

I couldn't understand why she was looking at me that way. And I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Mrs. Buck stopped her pacing long enough to call Colleen by name. Mrs. Buck said she had a chore for Colleen. She obliged, listened to Mrs. Buck’s whispers, and left the store.

I watched as Colleen walked past the windows. Sunshine highlighting her hair. Then, just when I thought she was gone, she stepped back and her eyes met mine. Her cheeks tinged pink, and she nodded.

I smiled. I'm sure it was a stupid-looking smile, and then she walked away.

I'd like to focus on that. The fact that she stopped and glanced at me again.

That was the good moment.

Not when Mrs. Buck came up to me and gave me a stern look even my mother could appreciate. I know how Mrs. Buck feels about me. I have the nerve to be Amelia Blackwell's son. I know Mrs. Buck hates my mother. It should be something that draws us closer. So far, it hasn't.

With that stern face only a lemon could love, Mrs. Buck told me to leave Colleen alone. She wouldn't be in town long, and Mrs. Buck wouldn’t have me ruining Colleen’s life.

I smiled politely and placed my hat back on my head without making any promises.

Sunday, May 12, 1861

S
ON OF A BITCH.

I know why Lucien has been all smelling flowers and acting like an imbecile the last few days.

At church, I saw him with Colleen. Not just saw him, as in he stood a proper distance, but he kept his fingers fidgeting with the cap he held in his hands. He'd speak. She'd giggle. I'd glare.

I shouldn't care. I've never spoken to Colleen. Ever.

But some part of me feels betrayed. I must get over it. It isn't Lucien's fault. By rights, he saw her first.

I hate the way Mother smiled at them. Like she's pleased by this development. Like she had something to do with it. Maybe she does for all I know. That woman has secrets I can't even imagine.

I didn't stay for lunch. I simply told Father I wasn't feeling well. He made no attempt to stop me. Perhaps he wished to run away himself.

When I was halfway over the bridge that connects the church land to town, I felt someone staring at me. I turned, and sure enough, it was Colleen. My brother had his back to her, chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Buck. Funny how Mrs. Buck doesn't seem to have any ill-will for Lucien. He's Amelia's damn son too!

But Colleen was looking at me. She delicately waved her dainty little fingers at me.

I don't wave back. Just nod and leave. If she wants my brother, that's her deal. But I won’t let her come between us. He's all I have.

I won't come between them either because his happiness is all I've ever wanted.

And Colleen is only one girl.

We are stronger than that.

We are…

I sound like such a baby.

Wednesday, May 15, 1861

T
HERE ARE SOME DAYS THAT ARE
either the best day or the worst day of your life.

To put it plainly, today has been one of those days.

Strange is a good word for it.

Well, honestly I don't know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's dark. I'm tired. I'm sitting in the corner with the lamp by my side hoping my brother doesn't find me.

I'm confused.

I feel… guilty. Guilty is a good word for it.

Mother hadn't gotten out of her rocking chair today, which was strange enough. She rocked and held her shawl around her shoulders, staring, coughing, rubbing her eyes. I didn't think much of it. I still don't.

The only reason I'm writing about it is that it’s a tiny important detail. Mother wasn't herself. Lucien was out in the field, or so I thought. Father found me in the barn feeding the horses. Thankfully, I wasn't up here in the loft. Don't know how my father would take me spending all my time writing in his father's journal.

So Father found me and told me to get some nails from the store. It seemed a strange request to me. I had seen many of them in the backroom. Father insisted. He even gave me money, extra money on top of the few pennies it would cost to get the nails for him.

I'm not an idiot.

I did as he asked.

My father seemed—I don't know—not himself either. I can't explain it. Maybe it’s nothing. It’s probably nothing. It's just… he seemed nervous. Looking around behind him. Talking in hushed tones. Like he didn't want Mother to know.

Not that that I can blame him. I rarely want Mother to know anything.

I thought about my father's disposition while I walked to town. I wanted to take the horse. Father told me to leave it. Said to walk. Said the walk would do me good.

So… I walked.

My entire family is losing their mind.

I made it to town. Went to the mercantile after I went to the saloon for a quick drink. Another thing that would embarrass my mother. By quick drink, I mean I used every bit of extra money Father gave me and, for the briefest of moments, forgot life's problems.

I got nice and loose, free, and then made my way to the store. I think I spent too much time in the saloon, though. Too much time and too much money. My head is still pounding as I write this.

At the time, I figured I could walk and talk. I was good.

That was all that mattered.

I made my way to the nails. Picked out a box, under the disapproving glare of Mrs. Buck no-less, and paid for it. Mr. Buck asked me again when I'd join the Confederates. Mrs. Buck said the great CSA could do better than a drunk like me. Mr. Buck reminded Mrs. Buck that she'd partaken some herself.

That's when I left because I didn't want to get in the middle of their dispute. Their business is their business. I'm not getting between people. I'm not like that.

So I left.

And I saw Colleen.

She was right outside of town. Flowers in her basket. A smile on her face when she saw me.

It made me smile, and I swear I forgot all about her and Lucien at church the other day. I forgot about Lucien altogether.

She walked toward me.

I walked toward her.

We met.

Had small talk. The weather was lovely. The sky was blue. Very blue for May. I was fine. She was fine.

I'd never felt so stupid. I couldn't for the life of me think of anything important to say to her.

Her smile kept me drawn in. I kept smiling back at her, and when she pushed her hair behind her ear, well I don't want to write down my feelings when I saw that.

I will say that with all the liquor and smiling it wouldn’t have taken much for me to pull her into a kiss.

Like I said, Lucien was the furthest thing from my mind. I think he was the furthest thing from her mind too.

It was Colleen that said she should go. She said if she didn't, Mrs. Buck would worry.

I didn't want Colleen to go, but I understood.

My mind screamed at me to ask her to lunch tomorrow or a walk in the meadow behind the church.

The stupid words, though, wouldn't come out.

I'll make sure to go back to town tomorrow, bright and early, to ask her to go on a walk with me. Or at the very least, just to see her.

I hate to admit this, but I'm beyond smitten with her. I know, I shouldn't be. Lucien is obviously taken with her too. He hasn't told me, but anyone at church Sunday could tell.

And here I am. Lusting after his girl.

What kind of brother am I?

Maybe I shouldn't see Colleen again. Maybe I should avoid the store until I can put these feelings to rest.

She's just a girl, after all.

Just one girl.

Lucien is my brother. He saw her first.

I wish it had been me.

I just have to stay way from her. That's it.

Shouldn't be too hard.

Thursday, May 16, 1861

O
NE DAY.

That's all I stayed away from her.

One day.

Wasn't my fault. It was Lucien's.

To be fair, he had no idea how difficult it would be for me. He said I looked sad and wanted to know if I’d like to go on a picnic with him.

Sounds stupid, doesn't it?

Picnics are things you do with your sweetheart or family on Sundays after church. Not really something you do with your big brother on a Thursday.

Turns out Lucien thought the same thing.

It’s no secret I want out of the house and will pretty much do anything to accomplish it. So, yes, I told Lucien I'd go on his incredibly weird picnic and hoped to all that is good that no one saw two men—two grown men—having a picnic together when chores needed to be done on the farm.

I don't know if he told Mother or Father about the plans. Heck, I don't even know who fixed our lunch, but around noon, Lucien found me cleaning out the barn and asked if I was ready.

I dropped the pitchfork where I stood and told him to lead the way.

And he did.

He led all the way to a meadow at the edge of town, the one where you can barely see the church steeple. The one where Becka Myers almost made a respectable man out of me last summer.

Lucien laid out the blanket while I stood with my thumbs hanging on my suspenders as a funny feeling come over me.

Something wasn't right, and I almost asked him about it when I saw him pull a third dish out of the basket.

A third dish.

I’m incredibly slow on occasion.

I saw the dish and then saw for the first time how Lucien seemed to be acting. I can't even really explain it. It felt like his movements were slower than usual. Slower and more fluid.

I called his name, and he looked at me and smiled. I don't know what I expected to see. I mean he looked like he always did. Just like my brother. His eyes might’ve had a little more black in them than normal, but it could’ve also been a trick of the light. It was really sunny this morning, and we were under a shade tree.

My God, did I just write an entire paragraph about Lucien's eyes?

This journal is driving me mad.

His eyes… really?

I must be losing my mind. Still… I can't shake the feeling that something was off about him. Even more so later.

Back to what happened. While I was mesmerized by my brother's eyes, I didn't notice her walking toward us. A twig snapped. I jumped. There she was.

Sweet Colleen.

The third dish.

She stared at me. Her cheeks tinged pink, but her gaze never left mine.

It feels insane to say. We were in a wide open field after all. In the middle of God's own country; however, in that moment it felt as if all the air was sucked out of my lungs.

There is no other way to explain it.

No other woman has made me feel like that. None. The moment between us seemed to last a lifetime.

Time stood still.

I couldn't hear the birds or the barking of the dogs.

I heard nothing.

I only saw her.

It seems silly now to write such things. Thinking back on it, however, that's how it really did feel. And is this journal now for sharing my feelings so I can hopefully keep my anger in check and be incredibly embarrassed by these writings in my later years?

It wasn't until Lucien stood and kissed Colleen on the cheek that I remembered he was there. Then I felt guilty for every thought I ever had about Colleen. Every feeling. Every fantasy. Every way I imagined kissing her. Every other thing I pictured about her. Obviously, my brother was smitten with her. Who wouldn't be?

I cleared my throat and sat down on the blanket while they had their private moment. I didn't want to be there with them.

Yet, I wanted to be nowhere else.

Well, except for one exception. In my perfect world, my brother wouldn't be there with Colleen and me.

I wanted him to go away, and God help me, I wanted Colleen under me on that blanket.

Eating lunch proved to be very difficult.

Food was the last thing on my mind, even if it was Mother's fried chicken. Mother never fries chicken except on special occasions. And that means she never fixes fried chicken.

Colleen complimented the food.

I barely tasted it.

Lucien ate a few bites in between his chatter. He was too busy talking to Colleen, smiling, making her laugh. It was weird watching him like that that. Not my brother's normal behavior at all. I think Colleen only laughed to be polite. My brother isn't funny or exciting or clever.

Bless him.

A few minutes later, he sort of freaked out, of all things, because we didn't have dessert. The man felt strongly that we needed a pecan pie. Like right then. Right that second. Said it was supposed to be in the basket. Mother promised him or something, and it wasn't. And we needed it.

On and on he went.

On. And. On.

Colleen told him it’d be okay.

I told him it’d be okay.

But Lucien. He just wouldn't have it. Went on and on about how we needed everything to be perfect.

Then he just left.

Stomped toward town, mumbling.

I have no idea what's happening to him. Even when he brings the pie back. Even once I make it home. Something’s off about him. My entire family is off.

Anyway, while Lucien was gone to get that blasted pie, Colleen and I had a chance to talk. I like to think we said more things, and in a less awkward manner, than Colleen and Lucien.

I learned a lot of things.

Colleen is from Atlanta. Her family sent her up north when the war broke out. Mr. and Mrs. Buck are her aunt and uncle.

Her last name is Channing.

Her middle name is Rose.

She is eighteen.

She hates roses.

She thinks my brother is nice.

He is nice.

He deserves better than his brother flirting with his girl.

But the man needed pie. So there you go.

Friday, May 17, 1861

T
HIS ONE WILL BE SHORT AND
to the point.

I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop wanting to think about it.

I know I shouldn't, but sometimes you can't control how you feel or what's going on inside you.