© Copyright 2006
by Elizabeth Delayne

Faith That Weeps

Part I

It had been petty to tell him no–and broke their long standing ties of friendship. At the time, it had felt right, now–faced with ... well, facing him–she wished she’d just given in. She had originally promised her help, and he was, after all, helping her.

But she’d made the promise before they broke up.

He’d gone over her head to an old family friend who served as an unofficial curator for the estate’s historical property. She stewed over it, her hands clenched over the wheel as her rattle trap of a car lumbered up the lane. The road was familiar, she could probably drive it with her eyes closed.

It was the car that was undependable.

She sighed as she rounded the turn and the Heritage came into view. It was an old, oversized greek revival home, surrounded in weeping willows pine trees. The green of a fresh spring framed the house, now grey and chipped with color–long in need of a paint job. From far away, it looked majestic.

The Heritage had been in her family for over two hundred years. She’d spent her summers there with her sisters, at her grandmother’s knee and in the back, tromping through the gardens and the woods beyond. The was the middle child–the plain, the ordinary–the brainy one. Her long brown hair did have some style to it, thanks to a recent splurge at a salon. She tended to forget her contacts more often then not, but she liked the rectangular style of her glasses. She thought they at least gave her an air of class and sophistication. She’d graduated third in her class and magna cum laud for both of her degrees so far in college.

Her older sister was the beautiful one—classic blond hair and striking blue eyes, high cheekbones and curves. Dani was a wiz in the garden, had spent her time at the Heritage House at her grandmother’s side in the gardens–not indoors, fascinated by the library. Instead of developing her a love for the place, she’d always looked on the house as an eye-sore to the once perfect gardens.

Dani felt like Carrie was to blame for losing Tyler.

You’re too obsessed with this house. Anyone would run.

It had been her other sister who, in attempt to cheer her up, whisked her to the fancy salon for a new haircut. Jayce was the youngest, a bright spitfire of energy and imagination. She’d spent half of her time at Heritage house lonesome for her father, wishing to be home, and the other half inventing dramatic stories, her mind spinning with fanciful history. She’d pester everyone with questions, convince her sisters to jump into her home-spun productions for their father when he came back to pick them up.

As she turned down the long oak tree lined lane, she realized she wasn’t as early as she hoped.

Tyler had arrived first–she noted and pulled up behind the sleek sedan that must have belonged to one of his partners. Probably Brad ... as Lisa drove shinny red sports car.

Tyler got out of the back and moved toward her car, probably with the intention to get her door. She was quicker–though she fumbled a bit and stumbled. She caught herself with shaky hands, before she made too big of a fool of herself. Then, she calmly shut her car door behind her.

It was hard to look at him, even now–two months passed their breakup, if one could call it that. It had been more of a dissolve, as salt disappears in water. When she looked at his eyes, she was used to the warmth.

Instead his gaze seemed hard, critical. There was none of the vibrancy for life that she was used too, and none of the easy welcome and friendship for her.

They had been friends for so long. It had been wrong, so very wrong, to turn it into something more.

To wish for something more.

Overhead thunder rumbled.

He glanced to the sky, frowned a little bit before turning his attention back on her. “Thanks for coming.”

She shrugged carelessly and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “You got what you wanted.”

He reached out, grabbed her wrist. “I asked Professor Davis for someone–I didn’t realize he would call you. Not until he called back this afternoon.”

“He’s an old family friend,” she tugged her hand back. “And as such, he expected me to cooperate.”

“Can we just hold a truce, just for tonight?”

As if it was all her fault. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. As if, when she’d agreed to let him use the Heritage for his Marketing project, she’d known he’d be doing so with his new girl friend.

“Fine.” She stepped past him and nodded toward Brad, Tonya and Lisa. Carrie smiled, and hoped it seemed genuine. She liked Brad and Tonya, and tried not to hold a grudge against Lisa. The girl might have flirted with Tyler, but she hadn’t forced him to turn his head.

Carrie tugged her keys out of her purse and walked up the front steps to the front doors of the heritage. It was more formal that way, and she preferred to keep this visit formal.

The doors were old and heavy. The lock, though secure, took some crafty giggle work. Once inside, she had to deal with the security code.

Finally, she led the way up the narrow stairs.

The Heritage wasn’t Tara–and the home hadn’t been as dramatic as Gone with the Wind. Though grand in scale now, the original Greek revival style farm house had been expanded on steadily until the Civil War.

The staircase that ran up from the front door was part of the original structure. She ignored the faded wallpaper that they’d been stripping and documenting as she headed up the narrow stairs, using the dim hallway lights. Once on the second floor, she turned, and led the way into the library.

She opened both double doors and flipped on the lights. Once this place had smelled musty. Now that the University had been allowed entrance, the floors gleamed, the bookcases were dusted, and the light fixtures turned on without a flicker.

“Here it is–anything and everything you could ever want to know about Kelperton County.” She walked over to a streamlined desk and turned on the microfiche machine. “I took the liberty to pull the biography articles for you, as well as some other articles on family history and such.”

“You’re a gem, Carrie.”

She smiled at Brad. “For some. If you need anything, I’ll be down on the first floor ... and, well, I don’t know how to say thing, except to say it. It’s policy for us to do a security search when people leave the building. University as well as family. Someone walked out with a journal last year that was worth a great deal of money–and worth even more in its value to my family and to the studies at the University.” She shrugged, “Just so you know.”

* * *

“Well, that was pleasant.”

“Leave it alone, Lisa,” Brad muttered as he set his laptop case down on the table a started to set up his workspace. Across from him, Tyler walked over to the window and stared out into the back of Heritage house. Had it only been three months ago that he’d been walking around the overgrown paths, talking with Carrie about her dreams to bring the garden back? Plans that included convincing her sister to use her green thumb?

He shook his head as he stared down at the weed woven paths. Things had fallen apart so quickly, but he’d never intended their separation to last. He was in his final semester of grad school, things were tight ... time was almost something he didn’t think about.

Except for times like this ... times when he was aware he was so close to losing Carrie.

With a sigh, he settled down with his partners to work. As he saw it, the faster he finished his capstone project, the faster he could get Carrie back.

Though he refused to think that they had broken things off.

The night dragged slowly. The group–who’d been together in forced operation for nearly semester–was at the bickering stage. They were restless, ready to work for a paycheck, ready to move on.

And a little tired of Lisa’s overt moves.

At least Tyler was. He’d bristled a bit early on when Carrie had brought it up in one of their famous arguments–but he hadn’t seen it as his fault. He hadn’t really noticed it at all.

Now he did. And it bothered him–bothered him most because they were in Carrie’s family home. Oh, she didn’t live here, but her ancestors had. Her grandmother had.

At the end of two hours, Tyler called a break–and escaped.

He found kitchen light on. It was the only room other than the library that the university had put any money into. The cabinetry and stove were left over from her grandmother’s years there, but the electrical work, lighting, refrigerator and microwave were all new.

Papers were scattered over the simple wooden breakfast table–sketches and pages of notes, forms and lists. He causally scanned through them.

Plans, he knew, to get the grants Professor Davis had recommended, for the reconstruction of the house and the gardens. Dreams of what the house had been and what it could be, for her family, for the community. It was one of the reasons he’d pushed his group to work on this project, to create a development plan for Heritage House and the community.

The kitchen door was opened. He stepped through, holding the screen door opened when he spotted her. She stood at the aged white railing, her eyes were sad, so sad.

It reminded him that the last year hadn’t been easy for her either. She’d lost her father–a man Tyler respected. They’d nearly lost the house and so many other precious family heirlooms. Her sister, Dani, wanted to sign the house over to the university or the community, and her other sister Jayce see-sawed back and forth with the idea, supporting one sister, then the other. It caused the three of them to bicker and avoid each other.

He carefully let the door close behind him, stepped out of the light, and watched as her head turned. She wasn’t surprised, but definitely withdrawn.

Carrie–he had to fight the instinctive urge to say her name, to reach for her and comfort.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said at last. “When I called Professor Davis, I assumed he would send someone from the University.”

“I am a representative of the University—and I did promise,” she glanced out the window before pulling her papers together. For the first time he noticed the dark clouds gliding over. The trees rustled with the wind.

“I was thinking I could have trusted you with the keys. I didn’t need to be here. I made it harder on all of us.”

I wanted you here.

“I should head back. Ya’ll might want to as well. The bands left over from Hurricane Gretel seem to have moved closer to us then they though.”

He looked up at the dark clouds. Gretel had hit the Mississippi coast earlier in the week. He thought of the wind and rain and the old car she drove. “We’ll head out. Together.”

“I’ll–“

”Just wait.” His voice was impatient, but he headed in. It was too long a drive, he thought as he took the stairs two at a time, and no one wanted to stay the night in a dilapidated old house overnight. He’d spent too much time around Jayce for that.

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