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Excerpt
The Bars Between Us
Prologue
Grace
It was sweltering in the car. Even with the windows down, the wind whipping my baby thin brown hair around my face, I was dripping sweat. The south was known for its heat, the state motto being famously hot. It was barely May and summer was still nearly two months away, yet it was already pushing ninety degrees. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the perfect blue sky. There hadn’t been a cloud in weeks, nor had there been any rain, and the ground was just as dry and dusty as a desert.
The radio was blasting, Lynyrd Skynyrd singing about their sweet home, Alabama. I sang along, the lyrics tumbling from my lips in my high-pitched child’s voice, a grin plastered across my face. My cheeks, still round with the last remnants of baby fat, ached from the smile I’d been sporting for the last twenty minutes.
But I didn’t care.
My daddy and I were out joyriding.
It was a Sunday afternoon tradition. After sitting through the pastor’s long-winded sermon, we’d go home and strip off our itchy church clothes and trade them in for loose cotton t-shirts and denim shorts and then hop in the car, destination unknown. Mama never came with us, instead she stayed home to cook Sunday supper, and that was fine with me.
This was our time, just Daddy and me. He’d crank up the tunes, reminding me that it didn’t matter what the radio was playing these days, it was all garbage. “Classic rock, baby,” he’d tell me. “Classic rock is the only thing we listen to in this car, you got me?”
I’d giggle, like I did anytime he talked to me, and then nod my head in agreement. “That’s my little bear,” he’d say and then tu
rn his attention back to the road. He’d ask me, “which way?” and then aim the car in the direction that I’d point.
Some Sundays, the drive was just a few minutes. Those were the days when we would come back and supper would be nothing more than cabbage soup with bits of ground meat. Mama wouldn’t say much on those days, her eyes sad and full of unshed tears.
Other days, we’d drive and drive and drive until I fell asleep, the vibration of the car mixed with the wind in my face lulling me to sleep. I’d wake up when Daddy carried me inside, setting me gently on the couch. Those Sundays were the best. Mama was always in a good mood and we’d have pot roast with carrots and potatoes or fried chicken with rice and homemade gravy.
Daddy would kiss Mama on the mouth, something I pretended to find disgusting, and she’d smile and smack him on the arm. He’d wink at me across the table and we’d spend the rest of the night putting a puzzle together and snuggling close on the couch, just the three of us.
I was hopeful that today would be one of the Sundays that we drove until the sun nearly set.
“Daddy?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, bear?”
“I’m thirsty. Can we get a soda?” I asked tentatively. Sometimes he would pull into a gas station and let me pick out a drink and treat. Other times, he’d grit his teeth, his jaw would twitch, and he would shake his head, telling me that I’d ruin supper. I never told him that those were the days I went to bed with my belly still rumbling with hunger.
A grin spread across his handsome face. “Sure thing, baby. You want a treat, too?”
I nodded enthusiastically and he winked. “Next place we come to, I’ll stop and get ya something. Now sit back and close your eyes a bit, bear.”
I gazed into his blue eyes, a perfect replica of my own, and nodded once again. “Okay, Daddy,” I whispered before following his instructions and letting my eyelids drop.
