A Heart of Flesh Page 3

  “Where’s Diana?” I ask before shoving the first, large bite into my mouth.

  “Somewhere in the fields.” Penelope sits again and lifts her own cup to her lips. “She thought today would be a good day for a break from training with it being Sunday. So we had Scripture lessons early this morning, and she paraded the kids out to help pick vegetables. And tonight, cooking lessons. We’re making a stew with today’s catch.”

  She winks at me over the rim of her cup and takes a sip. I swallow my bite and lean back, and I can’t help the irritation that marches through me.

  “We don’t have time for breaks. That’s not her call.”

  Penelope raises a brow, but her expression remains neutral when she speaks.

  “Whose call is it?”

  I frown. “Mine.”

  “I see.” She picks up her book of Scriptures and reads. I release a slow breath. I know my aunt well, and if I’m guessing, she’s not reading at all. She’s waiting for me to grab this conversation by the horns so that she can turn it into a lecture. Only Penelope’s lectures never feel like lectures. They feel… like truth.

  “Okay,” I sigh, lowering my fork to clink against the plate. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”

  She lowers the Scriptures and folds her fingers together. Her silver eyes connect with my own, anchoring themselves to my soul somehow, and I hold my breath. She has never once in my life told me what to do or how to think. She simply holds up a mirror and lets me see myself.

  “What makes you think you get the last say?”

  Up goes that mirror. My lips tight, I ready myself for her barrage of questions. See, it’s always questions with her. Not because she doesn’t know the answers, but because she knows I don’t. I do my best to answer this first one.

  “Ian left me in charge.”

  “And what makes you think he was ever in charge?”

  “That’s—” I shake my head, baffled. “He was.”

  “He didn’t think so. In fact, based on the conversations he had with Aaron and me, he had no idea what he was doing. Does that sound familiar?”

  I stare at her, and for a moment, I almost let my fear seep in again. Fear of not being able to do any of this without Ian. I straighten, pushing it off, but I can’t speak. I’m afraid of what I might say. Penelope tilts her head, compassion flooding her voice.

  “Justin, we all made a choice to put our own lives aside to help raise these babies.” She runs a finger across her bottom lip before continuing. “For a young man like you—like Ian—there is nothing more commendable. I’ve watched you this past year… watched you run yourself into the ground to reach these kids. And I’m very proud of you. But you need to remember that you are not in this alone.”

  I blink, my fork hanging loosely between my fingers. Her words tear into me and graze across my heart.

  “As for Diana,” Penelope continues. “She’s worked just as hard as you since Ian left. Don’t you think she deserves a say?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not about that. Of course, she has a say. But… one day without training is one day lost.”

  “Even God rested on the seventh day.”

  I just look at her, more annoyed with each word she utters. I hate when she uses the Scriptures to make a point, especially when I can’t argue against it.

  “You’ve done a good job here.” Penelope stands, tops off my tea. “We’ve all seen it. You deserve a rest yourself from time to time. Because you’re restless. Just as restless as Ian was.”

  “No, I’m not,” I reply defensively. “And Ian had a good reason to be restless. Kate was waiting for him.”

  “And? What’s waiting for you?”

  Okay, Penelope. Enough with the questions. Her hand drops solidly onto my shoulder.

  “I’ve had the same conversation with Diana. You’re both young. You both have so much to look forward to. As much as I would hate to see you go, none of us would blame you if you decided to pursue your life.”

  I shake my head, dumbfounded. “Where is this coming from, Penelope?” I fold my hands together, rest my elbows on either side of my plate, and peer up at her. “This is the life I’ve decided to pursue.”

  She lifts a knowing brow, and I stop to think about what I’ve just said. Five short years ago, before everything went to hell, I had different dreams. I was going to be a doctor in Eden like my father—like Penelope herself. I was going to serve the public in that respectable position. I had it all planned out until the Vortex came for the Serum and exposed Dad’s latest creation: indestructible children—something we’d never seen in Eden. Ever. Suddenly, every single one of my plans was put on hold. My entire life changed in a day.

  I study Penelope, feel the weight of her hand that outwardly imitates the burden in my heart. In that instant, my thoughts scramble back toward Diana and the one question that keeps haunting me. Is this the life she wants?

  “Honestly,” I sigh. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to pursue anymore. At the moment, this is it.”

  Penelope sits and props her chin against her curled fingers. “So perhaps… you need a break. To figure things out.”

  I lift my head. “A break?”

  “When’s the last time you crossed the river?”

  I crinkle my brow. Three years. Has it been three years? Penelope reaches for my hand and squeezes.

  “Go home, Justin. See your mom. Try to make amends with your dad. After all your hard work, you deserve a vacation at the very least.”

  I ponder this a moment. Maybe she’s right. I do miss my mom. And Dad? I cringe at the idea of facing him again. Last time didn’t go over so well, but it’s been a while. Maybe, with any luck, he’ll talk to me. Maybe he’ll finally let me explain why I did what I did. I take a final bite, chewing slowly before answering.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Penelope smiles. “Good.

  I stand, pushing the chair back with my motion. “And… it won’t hurt to take a day off.”

  Penelope’s smile widens a half inch. “Exactly.”

  ***

  I find Diana at the edge of the potato field. She hoods her eyes as she scans the stretch of a good four acres. I can smell the dirt the minute I step onto the tilled earth. This is our biggest crop, and we’ve often said our potato supply is the one thing that will prevent us from starvation if everything else is lost. She turns when she spots me crossing over, and with one glance, she settles my anxious nerves.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” She smiles. “The boys told me about your little midnight vigil.”

  Her voice is warm, teasing. I shake my head and habitually shove my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. It seems all the boys in the house were suffering with insomnia last night.”

  “I thought I’d never get them to wake this morning for their lessons with Penelope.”

  “In my defense, I’m pretty sure they were asleep within minutes after I left them.”

  “I lost sight of them just now.” She tucks her hands into the large pocket on the front of her blouse and swivels her head, searching the field again. “We should really cut some of those trees down just there.” She nods to a copse that stands in the very middle of the field. “Make some firewood of it.”

  “Sure,” I nod. “I’ll talk to Aaron.”

  “I shouldn’t worry. Liza is with them.”

  Still, before she finishes her sentence, she’s off—a slow walk toward the trees, careful to remain between the rows. I follow.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t consult with you first before I cancelled today’s training,” she says over her shoulder. “You were still sleeping and, well, we all needed a break.”

  “No it’s—” I stop myself, emitting a huge sigh. “Actually… we really should talk about some ground rules.”

  She stops and spins toward me. “Ground rules?”

  “Well, yeah. We need to be on the same page. The kids are at a critical and formative age. Training is too important to blow off on
a whim.”

  She peers at me, ruffled. “That’s what you think I did?”

  I bite my lip. I don’t want to fight.

  “Justin, one day off will not kill any of us. In fact, we should probably consider a day of rest weekly.”

  “No.” My answer is harsh, and she blinks up at me. “Diana, I know you don’t understand how the Serum operates, but one day off is a big deal. It’s two steps back with these young minds. We’ve come too far to slack off now.”

  “Oh, so now it’s slacking off, is it?”

  “No. Well, maybe.”

  She lifts her chin, and I see that familiar glint in her eyes. The hole I’m digging just gets deeper by the minute. My conversation with Penelope suddenly swirls fresh in my thoughts, and before she can speak, I take a step toward her and catch her by the elbow.

  “Are you happy, Diana?”

  She stops, caught off guard by my random question. Her lips part, a slice of surprise replacing the determined gleam that was there seconds ago.

  “Why do you ask?” Her forehead crinkles with the question. “Do I not seem happy?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “That’s why I’m asking. And not just for you. For myself, too.” When confusion clouds her expression, I sigh, dropping my hold on her arm. “I guess I was hoping you could put things into perspective.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, studying me.

  “Are you not happy, then?” she asks. When I shrug, she nods, and her gaze falls to the ground. “I see. So… are you planning to leave?”

  “No.” My answer is quick and sharp. “Not permanently. I mean… if I go at all. Penelope—she just thinks I need a break. She thinks it would be a good idea for me to go home. For a visit.”

  Diana doesn’t say anything. She turns, moves along the rows a few paces and then stops, crossing her arms, her back to me. Her hair is loose today and hangs in long, blonde curls nearly to her waist. Further past her, I see four tiny figures appear on the horizon, then a fifth and a sixth as the children scramble into view. Liza is with them, Aria clinging to her hand. The children each drag a half full bag of potatoes. Occasionally, one of them bends to examine another find before digging it free and depositing it into the bag.

  “Diana?”

  She quickly wipes at her eyes before facing me, and something inside my chest crushes inward.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.” Her voice squeaks. She kicks at the ground with the toe of her shoe and looks up at me sideways. “You are going to come back?”

  I sense a hint of desperation in her voice, and this does something to me. In fact, the question itself does something to me. It makes me believe that I do matter to her. That my being here matters. My heart patters rapidly as my conversation with Liza reenters my thoughts right up next to Penelope’s words. Should I even go there? I don’t. I just answer the question.

  “Yeah. I mean, I haven’t decided that I’m going yet.”

  She nods and brushes a windblown curl from her cheek.

  “Look, I know how hard it’s been for you with the extra workload lately. If I leave, even for a little while…”

  I let my voice trail. She bites her lip and looks off toward the horizon, and the thought of leaving her with even more responsibility makes me sick. I reach out and pull on her fingers—one quick movement—and drop my hand.

  “Are you unhappy, Diana? You never answered me.”

  She half-smiles with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but I am not unhappy. Not in the least. To work with the babies in the nursery… this had always been my dream.” She laughs weakly. “It came true in the strangest of ways, and I have embraced the gift.”

  I can’t help but laugh at the practicality of her statement, and this eases the strange tension that was beginning to build.

  “It did,” I agree with a nod. “And you have.”

  We laugh freely then, until she lowers her chin. She concentrates on picking at her thumbnail a second before looking up.

  “I am blessed, Justin,” she whispers. “I’m raising my boys among good people. I’m learning to read, learning of Yeshua. I am building a life of my own making. A life that is not dictated by Fate.” Her eyes pierce me so strongly that my heart feels it. My heart. I hold my breath. “I need nothing more.”

  I blink. She needs nothing more. The words stab me right through that same heart, but what can I say? She says all of this with pure conviction, and my level of admiration for her rises another notch. I should say something. I should tell her I’m happy that she’s happy. Liza’s words penetrate: Take a look at her. Why do you think she’s still here?

  And now I know.

  She squints in the bright light. The children are getting closer, and I think I should probably shut my mouth, but in a moment of courage, I choose to test the waters by broaching a different subject. One I should have broached long ago.

  “Tell me something,” I begin. My voice is suddenly hoarse with emotion, and this irritates me. She nods once.

  “Okay.”

  “We’ve—you and I, I mean—we’ve been through some stuff.” I suddenly feel so insecure. “And I know you partially blame me for…Tabitha’s death.” Diana grows completely still, fixed on me. I swallow and push on. “I know it’s not fair for me to ask you to forgive me for it, which is why I never have. And I—”

  “Stop.”

  She presses a finger against my lips. In the sudden silence, the children’s laughter rings out in the background. Her flesh is warm, and I inhale her scent, the smell of fresh soap on her fingertips. I fix on her face.

  “I don’t blame you for Tabitha’s death. You did what you could to help her, but we both know my daughter would have died regardless.” A sharp pain shades her tone as she mentally recalls the images of those horrific days that lead to my decision to send Tabitha to Eden. And I feel it too, in the quivering of her fingers against my lips. An aching for her loss. She sighs. “Was I angry? Yes. But the virus was not your doing, so how could I blame you?”

  I suddenly feel very foolish, and all I can do is nod. Her fingers slip away from my mouth, but I catch her hand in my grip, entangle my fingers with hers.

  “Okay,” I concede. “I just… after all this time, I guess I needed to say it.”

  My smile slips onto my lips briefly and fades. I’ve never felt quite so awkward, so unconfident, in my life.

  “I care about you a lot, Diana.” The words come almost involuntarily. A test… to see where her heart is. “I want you to be happy. But more than anything, I want you to be sure that this is the life you want.”

  Her lips twitch momentarily, a half-smile, before she speaks.

  “It is the life we have,” she responds. “So for now, yes. It is the life I want.”

  It’s a sweet answer, but it doesn’t in any way resolve my confusing feelings for her. If anything, it strengthens that confusion. And right now, that slow burn igniting in me every time I look into her eyes or see her standing on the porch in the moonlight or smell her sweet scent on the breeze is suddenly hard to ignore.

  Heat rushes up the sides of my throat as I face this reality. I stare at her, frozen in place, overanalyzing everything as usual, and I honestly think she reads my thoughts. Her smile slowly turns into a full grin. She squeezes my hand, making her touch real and necessary and welcome in every way. An imprint.

  The landscape framing her beautiful face disappears for a split second, and then…

  “Mommy, Mommy!”

  Caleb races into the tiny, private world we’ve momentarily created, his arms tightening around Diana’s knees. The momentum breaks my grip on her hand, and the magic of the moment dissolves into reality. She works to keep her balance against Caleb’s weight.

  “Hi there, Caleb.” Freeing herself, she kneels. “And what do we have here?”

  He stretches the lip of his bag wide and gives her a peek, his big, brown eyes full of pride. “I found more ripe pota
toes than anyone today. I won Liza’s game!”

  He beams, and his face disappears into the bag to examine his treasure. Diana glances up at me, amusement etched across her face, and I chuckle. By now, the others have nearly reached us. Liza, with Jacob on her back and Aria on her hip, waves with her free hand as she makes her way toward us. She tosses a glance from me to Diana and back again as Jacob slides off her back. I’m guessing my feelings are as apparent as large words on the page of a book.

  “And what did you win, Caleb?” Diana asks, pulling on the bag to take another look inside.

  “A ride! A fast one! With Justin.”

  Diana claps her hands in mock glee. “Well, that is a treat.”

  She winks up at me, just a subtle gesture between friends, and my answer is a confused flutter right in the center of my stomach.

  “I’m so proud of all of you.” Diana rises and takes Caleb and Jacob by the hands. “Let’s get these potatoes to the barn, shall we?”

  She heads off, the kids trailing behind her, the breeze kicking up the dirt in their wake. Liza, with Aria still on her hip, connects with me. She raises an impish little brow, and follows the others. A few paces and Diana turns, walking backwards, her eyes on me.

  “Are you coming?” she asks me. A quick smile lights her face; I take a deep, trembling breath.

  And like a leap off a cliff, my heart free falls.

  Chapter 4

  Tonight, we make stew. Despite the women’s efforts at organization, it’s quite a chore. Seven four-year-olds in one tiny kitchen all vying for a chance to stir or chop or taste turns to chaos pretty quickly. Aaron and I sit back and watch the madness in amusement. But somehow in the end, it gets done, and dinner is delicious. The company is good, too. Still, in the midst of all the comforts of this home we’ve made, I begin to think about my little talk with Penelope and the home I left behind.

  I admit, she made some valid points, and I probably should take her advice. But in my mind, I just can’t get around the problems it might pose. The biggest one? Leaving the farm, even for a short time, means placing the kids in the hands of everyone else, and specifically Penelope herself. If I go, she’ll be the only one capable of even remotely intervening if something goes wrong. And things tend to go wrong almost daily.