Where My Heart Belongs Read Online Free
was causing by my selfishness .
But Sunshine had learned that life could not be based on “if onlys.” Nothing could change the past. What was done was done, and there was no way to go back—no matter the depth of regret.
She heard Kathy say something about keeping the peace for the sake of their father and cringed. Something was desperately wrong with Dad. He was nothing but skin and bones, and he’d said something about not going to the doctor when his symptoms first started. She wanted to know what had happened and what the prognosis might be, but Sunshine was fearful of asking. She wasn’t entirely sure she could handle the answer, for one thing. And for another, she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Kathy’s hostility.
Sunshine moved away from the den and into the kitchen. To her surprise it looked the same. The old farmhouse hadn’t been remodeled or upgraded since she’d left. She touched the speckled countertop and thought of all the times she’d had to wipe it down. How she’d hated chores. Tall white cupboards beckoned her to explore. Sunshine remembered when she and Kathy had painted them white as a surprise for Mom. Dad had thought it the perfect way to brighten the kitchen, and Mom had loved it.
Sunshine found a startling reminder of her childhood in the Depression glass that still lined a few of the shelves. Her mother had inherited the dishes from her great-grandmother and had loved to use them. Sunshine remembered once asking if it was dangerous to use them for everyday, but her mother had laughed at this. She’d told Sunshine that they were only things and that things weren’t much good if they couldn’t be used.
Moving away from the cupboards, Sunshine went to the back door. There were still notches in the doorframe, where Dad had measured her and Kathy as they’d grown. Sunshine touched the carved wood lovingly. It was a part of her history that actually seemed viable. Here was proof that she had once existed as a child in this house. Here was proof that she had once belonged.
Beyond the door was a small mud porch at the back of the house. The porch had been screened in the year Sunshine had turned twelve. She and some of her friends then promptly had a slumber party there, but it only lasted until around midnight, when all the girls had come inside after being scared by the noises of the night. Sunshine couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Life had been so simple then. She had thought herself oppressed with rules and regulations, but if she’d only realized how protected and loved she was, things might have been different.
There it was again. If only. Oh, how she regretted the choices she’d made. Kathy no doubt thought her sister had enjoyed some magical life of prosperity and happiness, but Sunshine could set her straight on that count. There’d been streaks of both, but there had been nothing magical or overly good about the life she’d made for herself after leaving home.
Sunshine opened the porch’s screen door and gazed across the backyard. Everything was just as she remembered it: her mother’s clothesline, the chicken coop and yard, the barn and the storm cave. How she had hated that storm cave as a child. Most of her friends had basements in their houses, but not the Halbert home. This place had been built shortly before the First World War, and apparently basements hadn’t been all that fashionable in Kansas prairie farmsteads. Nothing was ever so terrifying as having to leave the seeming safety of the house to venture into the storm itself in order to get to the cave.
She remembered crying in fear as a little girl. Storms had terrified her, but the cave was equally frightening. Nothing more than a hole dug into the ground and firmed up with a structure of corrugated tin and lumber, the cave was musty and dark, with a dirt floor. Bugs—especially spiders—had seemed to like to make their homes under the crude wooden benches where the family would sit out the
But Sunshine had learned that life could not be based on “if onlys.” Nothing could change the past. What was done was done, and there was no way to go back—no matter the depth of regret.
She heard Kathy say something about keeping the peace for the sake of their father and cringed. Something was desperately wrong with Dad. He was nothing but skin and bones, and he’d said something about not going to the doctor when his symptoms first started. She wanted to know what had happened and what the prognosis might be, but Sunshine was fearful of asking. She wasn’t entirely sure she could handle the answer, for one thing. And for another, she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Kathy’s hostility.
Sunshine moved away from the den and into the kitchen. To her surprise it looked the same. The old farmhouse hadn’t been remodeled or upgraded since she’d left. She touched the speckled countertop and thought of all the times she’d had to wipe it down. How she’d hated chores. Tall white cupboards beckoned her to explore. Sunshine remembered when she and Kathy had painted them white as a surprise for Mom. Dad had thought it the perfect way to brighten the kitchen, and Mom had loved it.
Sunshine found a startling reminder of her childhood in the Depression glass that still lined a few of the shelves. Her mother had inherited the dishes from her great-grandmother and had loved to use them. Sunshine remembered once asking if it was dangerous to use them for everyday, but her mother had laughed at this. She’d told Sunshine that they were only things and that things weren’t much good if they couldn’t be used.
Moving away from the cupboards, Sunshine went to the back door. There were still notches in the doorframe, where Dad had measured her and Kathy as they’d grown. Sunshine touched the carved wood lovingly. It was a part of her history that actually seemed viable. Here was proof that she had once existed as a child in this house. Here was proof that she had once belonged.
Beyond the door was a small mud porch at the back of the house. The porch had been screened in the year Sunshine had turned twelve. She and some of her friends then promptly had a slumber party there, but it only lasted until around midnight, when all the girls had come inside after being scared by the noises of the night. Sunshine couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Life had been so simple then. She had thought herself oppressed with rules and regulations, but if she’d only realized how protected and loved she was, things might have been different.
There it was again. If only. Oh, how she regretted the choices she’d made. Kathy no doubt thought her sister had enjoyed some magical life of prosperity and happiness, but Sunshine could set her straight on that count. There’d been streaks of both, but there had been nothing magical or overly good about the life she’d made for herself after leaving home.
Sunshine opened the porch’s screen door and gazed across the backyard. Everything was just as she remembered it: her mother’s clothesline, the chicken coop and yard, the barn and the storm cave. How she had hated that storm cave as a child. Most of her friends had basements in their houses, but not the Halbert home. This place had been built shortly before the First World War, and apparently basements hadn’t been all that fashionable in Kansas prairie farmsteads. Nothing was ever so terrifying as having to leave the seeming safety of the house to venture into the storm itself in order to get to the cave.
She remembered crying in fear as a little girl. Storms had terrified her, but the cave was equally frightening. Nothing more than a hole dug into the ground and firmed up with a structure of corrugated tin and lumber, the cave was musty and dark, with a dirt floor. Bugs—especially spiders—had seemed to like to make their homes under the crude wooden benches where the family would sit out the
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