Chapter 13
They’d decided that the next best place to start again would be Louisville, Kentucky, home of the Kentucky Derby, the Hot Brown, bourbon, and Sam Elliott.
“Kentucky?” Tenant scratched his head. “I don’t understand why y’all keep jumping from state to state like a pair of jackrabbits.”
“I guess we haven’t found the right fit is all,” Emma retorted.
“Fit?”
“Yes, Daddy. We trying to find a place that feels like home.”
“Well, if that’s what you’re looking for, you should just stay right here in Macon. Don’t Macon feel like home?”
“We’ve already been through this, Daddy.”
Tenant folded his lips.
* * *
During the visit, Emma didn’t spend much time with Harlan. Not the amount of time you’d think a mother would spend with a child she hadn’t seen for seven months. She barely even held him, though that part wasn’t all her fault—whenever she reached for him, Harlan would scream bloody murder.
And really, what did Emma expect? Louisa was the only mother Harlan knew. She was the one who bathed him, fed him, read him bedtime stories, comforted him when he was scared, spanked him when he was ornery, and kissed him no matter what.
Who was Emma? Mostly a gray face in a grainy photograph, a name scrawled at the end of a letter or on the inside of a sentimental greeting card. Those things didn’t mean anything to Harlan. As far as he was concerned, Louisa was his world.
Louisa tried her best to comfort Emma. “He’s got to get to know you; that’s all.”
“But Mama, he don’t behave that way with Sam.”
It was true; Harlan was always quiet and content in Sam’s arms.
“Some babies just take to mens easier than they do to womens,” Louisa said, even though she didn’t actually know that to be true. But what else was she to tell her wounded daughter?
* * *
The morning of the day Sam and Emma were scheduled to leave, Louisa crept into Emma’s room with Harlan balanced on her hip. Emma was standing over her suitcase, staring solemnly down at the neatly folded clothing.
“I got his bag all packed,” Louisa announced brightly, even though her heart was breaking.
“About that,” Emma began without looking up, “where we’ll be staying, there’s barely enough room for Sam and me, I don’t know where we’d put Harlan. So I think it’s best if he stayed here.”
Emma had gone round and round with Sam about leaving Harlan behind until she’d finally convinced him that it was the best thing for them and their son. Even so, having seen how Emma was (or wasn’t) with Harlan, Sam couldn’t help but ask the dreaded question that had been tormenting him since they’d returned to Macon: “Don’t you love him, Emma?”
“Sam! Of course I do. How could you ask such a thing?”
“Because I love him and I want him to be with us. That’s how I can ask.”
“Well, I love him too, love him so much I’d rather leave him here safe and sound with my parents. Suppose I get a job playing in a club or with an orchestra, huh? With you working days and me working nights, who’s going to look after the baby?”
Sam knew that was never going to happen, but he loved Emma too much to say so.
When Emma told her mother she was leaving Harlan behind, Louisa nearly fainted with happiness, but was careful to keep the joy out of her voice. “That’s no problem. We’re happy to have him.”