Heart of the Country by Rene Gutteridge Read Free Book Online

don’t want to talk about it.”
    “I don’t think that’s an option.”
    His eyes, tired with dark circles under them, darted upward, his gaze boring through the thick heaviness between us.
    “There must be,” I said evenly, “a reasonable explanation.”
    His hands tore through his hair. He stood. “It’s complicated, Faith. Okay? It’s not as simple as an explanation. I can’t explain this to you.”
    “Too much for a simple country girl to understand?”
    He looked at me. “That’s not what I said. Or meant.”
    “Then you better tell me what’s going on.”
    He looked at me resentfully. My presence was no comfort to him. He turned his back and looked out the window. The dim light of the late sun cast a golden glow against him.
    “They’re going to say that I knew something.”
    “Who?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “Did you know something?” I finally asked.
    His shoulders slumped and his hands plunged deep into his pockets. “You won’t understand . . .”
    He was right. I walked to the bedroom and pulled my suitcase from beneath the bed. I could barely see as I threw clothes and toiletries into the bag. What was I doing? Even as I went from the bathroom to the closet to the suitcase, it felt surreal. Every few seconds, I’d glance to the door, expecting his shadow to be crossing the threshold.
    In fifteen minutes I’d finished. The zipper sounded ominously final. The suitcase was so heavy I barely got it off the bed. It thumped to the ground, landing on the tip of my bigtoe. I cried out in pain, but I don’t think it was my toe that hurt that badly.
    I rolled it out into the hallway and to the front door. I turned the knob and pulled it slowly open. Was this what I wanted? But how could I trust him? I didn’t even know who he was anymore.
    I didn’t dare look back, but I knew.
    He wasn’t coming after me.

8
    LUKE
    S HE PROBABLY WOULD’VE never guessed that every time I came into a room, I looked for her. She was the first thing I looked for. She was the last thing I saw when I closed my eyes at night. But I doubted she would believe that now.
    I stared out my apartment window at Central Park. I’d lived my whole life here, in the heart of New York City, the Upper West Side. I was raised by nannies who walked me to school, then walked my dog for me while I was away. Still, I never got tired of the view. My father had once told me that I should never take this view for granted. That most people would never get a chance to stare down on this shining city, this beautiful park.
    As beautiful as this fall morning was, with the orange, yellow, and brown leaves rocking gently through the air, I couldn’t admire it. I barely noticed it. Instead I watched a little boy in a bright-yellow slicker walk with his mom below.
    Yellow. I turned to stare at the painting, which we’d moved back to our living room.
    “Senor Luke?”
    I blinked. The little boy in the raincoat was gone, but the city moved without pause and I was back to my grim reality.
    “Yes, Rosa?”
    “Would you like me to take your clothes to the dry cleaner’s?”
    I smiled because the words stung and I didn’t want Rosa to see it. But we both knew that Faith normally took care of that. She loved doing it. She said it reminded her of her mother, how she always took great care to make sure her father’s laundry was properly done.
    “That would be terrific. Thank you, Rosa.”
    “Will Senora Faith be returning for the weekend?”
    I stepped forward, away from the window and the sounds of the city. “You know what, Rosa? Why don’t you take the weekend off.”
    “Are you certain?”
    “Yes, yes, take the weekend off with pay, okay?”
    “Senor Luke, thank you. And thank Senora Faith as well.”
    I nodded and watched Rosa gather her things and leave. The apartment was so quiet, I heard it creaking against the wind that always blew harder this high up.
    Nearby, from a shelf I hardly ever regarded, I picked up the framed picture of