“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see. Come on. Let’s go out to the field.”

We walked through the trees in the back of our house toward an open lot of land. That was where Ma had me paint the sunsets with her at least twice a week.

I waited not-so-patiently as she set up her “canvas.”

She staked the two sticks into the ground with a bit of distance between them Then, she tied the wire to the top of each stick, connecting them. Next, she took the sheet and attached it to the wire with the clothespins.

She turned my way, smiling. “You know where your name came from?”

I shook my head.

She picked up a paintbrush and covered it with blue paint. Next, she splattered the paint against the sheet. She added a new color to her brush and did the same thing. It looked like a mess, but a nice mess somehow.

I didn’t know messes could look nice.

“His name was Jackson Pollock, and he was unique. He was known for his drip painting technique like this. Here, try it.” She handed me the paintbrush, and I started making a nice mess, too.

“He was an individual, Jackson, and he went against the norm. He didn’t try to make people like him by being something he wasn’t. He didn’t care what others thought of him. He was just himself, and he was extraordinary.” She walked over to me and tapped me on the nose. “Just like you. Do you know what his original first name was?”

“What?”

“Paul.”

I grinned ear to ear. “Like my middle name? Jackson Paul?”

“Exactly. Your father and I named you that because you are extraordinary, too, honey. One day, the right people will show up, and they will realize how special you are. They will see you for everything you are and love every piece of it just like your father and I love you. They will be your friends. Okay?”

I nodded. “I guess until those friends come, I got you and Dad to hang out with me.”

“Yes, Jackson.” She pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “You’ll always have us.”

We went back to painting, and it was a lot of fun.

After we finished, I looked at our artwork. “Hey, Ma?”

“Yes?”

“You think I can be as good as you at art one day?”

“No, Jackson,” she told me, shaking her head, “you’ll be better.”

7

Grace

Growing up, my sister and I never really went without. We grew up on acres of southern land in a house that was bigger than it needed to be. Daddy never really cared about having a home that size, but Mama felt they deserved it. As if God put the money in their hands, and they did enough for the community, therefore they were allowed to swim in God’s blessings.

Mama was right about one thing—Daddy did deserve it. He worked hard to get to the position he was at, and he never took that for granted. He believed in the church more than anyone I ever knew, and for every acre of land he owned, he gave back to the community.

My sister and I had a certain role to play as pastor’s children. Mama always taught Judy and me that we had to act a certain way throughout all our lives. The Harris girls were always supposed to be proper, prose, and beautiful. Not just an outer beauty, but we were to hold beautiful spirits, too.

For the most part, we took those roles very seriously. People looked up to our family, which meant we had to create a world worth looking up to. We were blessed, which meant that we had to be other’s blessings.

That meant we always had to be perfect in public. There was no place for flaws. So, whenever we faltered…whenever the world hit us, and we’d stumble, my sister and I fell against one another.

I knocked on Judy’s front door, and the second she opened it, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh my gosh, Grace! What’s wrong?! What’s going on?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for a reply before wrapping me into her arms.

I began sobbing uncontrollably onto my baby sister’s shoulder as she gently rubbed my back.

“Can I stay with you and Hank?” I choked out, unable to say anything else at all, but that seemed like more than enough for Judy.

“Always, Grace,” she whispered, pulling me closer to her body. “Always and always.”

*

I told her and Hank everything. The words poured out of me, and truthfully, so many of them were hard for me to believe. It all felt like a nightmare that I simply couldn’t wake from.

As we sat on the living room couch, Hank kept refilling Judy’s and my wineglasses. Hank was such a gentle man. I’d never once heard him raise his voice, and he never saw the bad in anyone.

Even when Judy and I slipped into our gossipy nature, Hank never spoke a word about a soul. His main goals in life were living it to the fullest and taking care of his love. And boy, did he love my sister. There were so many times I’d catch him staring at her when she wasn’t looking, and it would give me butterflies.

“I’m so sorry, Grace,” Hank told me, giving me a slight frown. “I can’t believe he’d do that to you. I can’t believe they’d both do that. I just…I can’t believe it.” He appeared stunned. Finn was one of his closest friends, and he just kept saying he couldn’t believe it could happen.

Me either.

We stayed talking for a while, and when the doorbell rang, Judy hopped up to answer it.

I turned to face Hank and crossed my arms. “Hank, can I ask you something?”

“I didn’t know, Grace,” he said as if he could read my mind. “I had no clue about Finn and the cheating, and if I’d known, I would’ve told you. I understand why you think I wouldn’t, seeing how he’s my friend, but you’re family, Grace. I swear on my grandfather’s grave, I would’ve told you. And truthfully, it’s hard for me to even realize who Finn is anymore, or how he could do this to you.”

I lowered my head and stared at their carpeted floor. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Always and always,” he replied, stating my family’s favorite phrase. Those were the words my family had always exchanged with one another since the beginning of time. Always and always. It was a promise that no matter what, we’d stand by one another—through the good days and the bad.

Every time I heard the words, I felt less alone.

“You have some nerve showing up here!” Judy barked, making both Hank and me jump up from the couch. Judy never raised her voice—ever.

“I’m sorry, Judy. It’s just…”

My skin began to crawl as I heard Finn’s voice. “Is Grace here?”

“That’s none of your business,” Judy snapped again. “You should go.”

Oh, sister, I love you.

“Yeah, of course, it’s just…” He paused, and I heard something moving. “She left her suitcases at Autumn’s place.”

It was painful when hearts stopped beating.

I listened to Judy pulling the suitcases into the house. “Fine. Now leave.”

He didn’t say another word, and I was certain he was walking back to go find Autumn.

“And Finley James?” Judy said, using his middle name. That was how you knew my sister was serious—when she used a person’s middle name.

“Yes?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Both of you.”

“Is she okay?” he asked, and it almost sounded as if he cared.

“She will be,” she swore. “Because she’s strong. She’s stronger than any betrayal you could’ve ever brought to her doorstep.”

Then the front door slammed.

It slammed.

Judith Rae never slammed doors.

As she rounded the corner, her eyes locked with mine. We could’ve easily been twins, she and I. She always said I had Dad’s crystal blue eyes, and I always said she had those bluest of blues. We smiled the same too, a bit of a lopsided grin to the left side. Our hair was long and naturally blond. Mama would’ve killed us if we ever dyed it—because one didn’t mess with God’s creation. Also, our hearts kind of beat in the same rhythmic pattern.

If sisters were soul mates, Judy would be mine.

“So,” she breathed out, giving me a gentle smile. “How about some more wine?”

*

I hadn’t slept a wink the prior evening. The next morning, the sun came up, and I watched it rise with a cup of coffee in my hands. I stood on the back porch, feeling the warmth against my skin. It amazed me how hollow I could feel, watching the morning light fill the sky. Dad used to always tell my sister and me that the morning sun was Jesus’ kisses against our skin.

As a kid, I never mentioned the scientific truths I learned at school about the sun rising and setting because it wasn’t really my place. Sometimes, people needed to believe what they needed to believe to get through each day.

That morning, I needed to believe in the kisses.

“You’re up too early.” Judy yawned, walking out of the house still in her pajamas.

“Just wanted to feel Jesus’ kisses,” I joked, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

She walked over to me, took my cup of coffee, and sipped it. “How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.”