Page 47 of Harts & Hurts

The first Friday in November was Fort Jackson High School’s homecoming game, which meant that it was the annual Fort Jackson Community-Wide Reunion. People from near and far, who claimed Fort Jackson as their hometown, or a town that was close to their heart, descended on the town to celebrate.

The day started with a parade down Main Street, led by the Fort Jackson Yellow Jackets marching band. I stood on the side of the road next to Griffin, who toted Melrose around in a carrier that was strapped to his back. I couldn’t help but smile at the teenagers throwing candy from the floats. The homecoming queen and her court rode by, waving from the back seats of luxury Cadillacs. I knew the cars had been loaned, as they were every year by Mr. Summerville, who owned Summerville Cadillac.

After the parade ended, everybody filed over to Benjamin Melrose Memorial Park for the tailgate cookout. Griffin and I moved through the crowd slowly. We were stopped every few steps by people who claimed they wanted to see Melrose but probably really wanted to see if they could figure out if the rumors about Griffin and me being more than co-guardians were true.

By the time we made it over to where my parents had their grill set up, Griffin was holding my hand.

My mother gave each of us a hug before she spoke to Griffin. “Gimme my grandbaby before your mother and father make their way over here. You know they have a tracker on baby girl,” she joked. “And there are already some burgers ready. Everything’s set up in the tent.”

I lifted Melrose out of the carrier and handed her over to my mom. Once she was out, Griffin dropped the carrier on a nearby bench, and we went inside the tent to get food. Mrs. Hart was in the tent, and I, for one, was surprised to see her there. “Hey.”

“Hey!” She gave each of us a hug.

“What are you doing in Tara Hurt’s tent, Ma?” Griffin asked. “You do know this is Tara Hurt’s tent, right?”

“Boy.” She waved him off. “We’re sharing this tent. Adam set up on that side, and Mark is set up on this side. All the food comes inside the tent, and we . . . share.”

“So it’s a truce?”

She stared at her youngest son. “It’s a truce, Griff.”

Mr. Hart came into the tent, smelling like smoke but wearing a grin. He was a handsome man, just like both of his sons. He spoke and gave both of us hugs. “We’re trying something new this year.” He picked up where his wife had left off. “Son, we don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t have your girl and your family. You can have both.”

“Word up? I appreciate that.” He gave his father dap, followed by a one-armed hug.

“I don’t even have to ask where my grand is. I know y’all stopped by Tara’s first, so she probably has her.”

“She does,” I admitted.

Mrs. Hart playfully rolled her eyes. “Let me see if she’s playing fair today.” She walked away, presumably to find Melrose.

Griffin and I fixed our food and grabbed drinks. By the time we made it back to my parents’ side of the tent, Mrs. Hart was passing Melrose to one of the elders of the Hart family. “That’s Nancy Hart. How are you related to her? Is she your aunt?”

“Yeah.” Griffin nodded his head. “We’re directly descended from the same Hart—Theodore.”

We walked closer to the group fawning over Melrose’s earrings. Since her ears were pierced, I consciously made the decision to just lean into it. An aunt of mine, Maryann Melrose-Summerville joined the group. “Well, those earrings in her ears look like real diamonds,” she commented as Griffin and I approached.

“They are,” I confirmed. “We had them made with the stones from Ashlynn’s engagement ring.”

Members of both families oohed and aahed over that piece of information. Melrose was passed from Nancy to Maryann, to more aunts, uncles, and cousins. Griffin and I ate while always keeping one good eye on her. As the tailgating time wound down, and it got closer to the kickoff for the game, Nancy and Maryann both rode their motorized wheelchairs up to the makeshift dais. The DJ handed Nancy the microphone, and she quieted the crowd before speaking. “As the eldest living member of the Hart family—and if you don’t believe that I’m the eldest, you can check the town records down at City Hall—as the eldest living member of the Hart family at ninety-seven years young, I feel like I have earned the right to speak. If I haven’t, somebody let me know, and let me know who has earned it.”

Nobody spoke.

“I want to speak about this feud between the Hart family and the Melrose family that’s been going on forever. It was going on when I was born, and that was in a different century. I’ve stood by and watched my whole life as this feud has done more tearing down than it ever built up. I’ve been around long enough to have had dealings with people who were alive at its inception.

“Hart family, I understand the basis of our dynamic. After Cecil Hart went and left Anna Clara at the church, our family name became synonymous with dishonesty and treachery. We lost all credibility, and our family name was a curse. We closed ranks, as we should have. That was the right thing to do. We determined that all we had was each other and our determination, and we rallied with those two things. But there comes a time when you have to stop living in survival mode and just live. It’s time for us to live, family. We no longer have to protect our name or each other. It’s time for us to live.” She passed the microphone to Maryann.

“Melrose family,” she began. “This feud has robbed us of the opportunity to cultivate friendship connections, business connections, and even love connections. I remember my young niece coming to me, her stomach swollen with the telltale sign that she was carrying new life. She placed her hand on her belly and told me that it was her hope that the birth of that baby would show the Melrose family and the Hart family that we were better together. She claimed that the families were always supposed to be joined; the timing just had to be right. It was wrong for Cecil and Anna Clara; we can all admit that. But it was right for Ashlynn and Fisher.

“I’m sad to say that we, as the adults in both families, have refused to let this sweet baby girl heal wounds that happened long before any of us here were even thought about. This feud is fruitless, and at this point, it’s based more on routine and familiarity than it is in fact. Melrose family, when is the last time a Hart did wrong by you? Deceived you? Betrayed you? Hart family, when is the last time a person with the last name Melrose swindled you? Bamboozled you? Tricked you? Think about that.”

Nancy took the microphone that Maryann held out to her. “Now, we’ve all heard the rumors going around about another forbidden Hart and Melrose connection. Maryann and I met up and talked about the ramifications of this union, and together, we decided that enough is enough. It’s time to celebrate love in all of its forms. It’s time to judge people by their merit, not by their last names.”

Maryann took the mic. “Nancy and I are both old widows. We each experienced our one great, true love. We’ve had our children. We’ve raised our families. It’s time for the youngins to do the same. It’s time for them to partner up and have their own families. To that end, Nancy and I got together and gathered up our engagement rings. We had a jeweler craft the stones into an heirloom piece.”

Gasps and whispers of shock and disbelief moved through the crowd.

“Of course, we don’t know your ring size, Anistyn, so the ring isn’t set to fit you—yet.” She turned to her partner in crime. “Show her the ring, Nancy.”