Kya And Chase Quotes

It seemed to Kya that when Chase played these melancholy tunes was when he most had a soul.

Seaweed 1967 Through the winter, Chase came to Kya’s shack often, usually spending one night each weekend.

Kya turned the page to continue the story, and there loomed a large picture of Chase and a girl above an engagement announcement: Andrews-Stone.

Chase stood a little distance away, watching as Kya disappeared into the spiraling birds. He hadn't planned on feeling anything for this strange and feral barefoot girl, but watching her swirl across the sand, birds at her fingertips, he was intrigued by her self-reliance as well as her beauty. He'd never known anyone like Kya; a curiosity as well as desire stirred in him.

Most men go from one female to the next. The unworthy ones strut about, pulling you in with falsehoods. Which is probably why Ma fell for a man like Pa. Tate wasn't the only guy who left me. Chase Andrews even talked to me about marriage, but he married someone else. Didn't even tell me; I read it in the paper." "I'm so sorry. I am, but, Kya, it's not just guys who are unfaithful. I've been duped, dropped, run over a few times myself. Let's face it, a lot of times love doesn't work out. Yet even when it fails, it connects you to others and, in the end, that is all you have, the connections. Look at us; you and I have each other now, and just think, if I have kids and you have kids, well, that's a whole new string of connections. And on it goes. Kya, if you love Tate, take a chance." Kya thought of Ma's painting of Tate and herself as children, their heads close together, surrounded by pastel flowers and butterflies. Maybe a message from Ma after all.

Kya knew from reading Albert Einstein’s books that time is no more fixed than the stars. Time speeds and bends around planets and suns, is different in the mountains than in the valleys, and is part of the same fabric as space, which curves and swells as does the sea. Objects, whether planets or apples, fall or orbit, not because of a gravitational energy, but because they plummet into the silky folds of spacetime—like into the ripples on a pond—created by those of higher mass. But Kya said none of this. Unfortunately, gravity holds no sway on human thought, and the high school text still taught that apples fall to the ground because of a powerful force from the Earth. “Oh, guess what,” Chase said. “They’ve asked me to help coach the high school football team.” She smiled at him. Then thought, Like everything else in the universe, we tumble toward those of higher mass.

Of course, she didn’t remember them; she’d never been introduced to them. Only knew them as Tallskinnyblonde and the rest. She felt like seaweed dragged on a line but managed to smile and say hello. This was the opportunity for which she’d waited. Here she was standing among the friends she wanted to join. Her mind fought for words, something clever to say that might interest them. Finally, two of them greeted her coolly and turned abruptly away, the others following quickly like a school of minnows finning down the street. “Well, so here we are,” Chase said. “I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’ve just come for supplies, then back home.” “You’re not interrupting. I just ran into them. I’ll be out on Sunday, like I said.” Chase shifted his feet, fingered the shell necklace. “I’ll see you then,” she said, but he’d already turned to catch the others. She hurried toward the market, stepping around a family of mallard ducks waddling down Main Street, their bright feet surprisingly orange against the dull pavement. In the Piggly Wiggly, pushing the vision of Chase and the girl from her head, she rounded the end of the bread aisle and saw the truant lady, Mrs. Culpepper, only four feet away. They stood there like a rabbit and a coyote caught together in a yard fence. Kya was now taller than the woman and much more educated, though neither would have thought of that. After all the running, she wanted to bolt, but stood her ground and returned Mrs. Culpepper’s stare. The woman nodded slightly, then moved on.

LATE ONE AFTERNOON, after watching for Chase Andrews, Kya walks from her shack and lies back on a sliver of beach, slick from the last wave. She stretches her arms over her head, brushing them against the wet sand, and extends her legs, toes pointed. Eyes closed, she rolls slowly toward the sea. Her hips and arms leave slight indentions in the glistening sand, brightening and then dimming as she moves. Rolling nearer the waves, she senses the ocean’s roar through the length of her body and feels the question: When will the sea touch me? Where will it touch me first? The foamy surge rushes the shore, reaching toward her. Tingling with expectancy, she breathes deep. Turns more and more slowly. With each revolution, just before her face sweeps the sand, she lifts her head gently and takes in the sun-salt smell. I am close, very close. It is coming. When will I feel it? A fever builds. The sand wetter beneath her, the rumble of surf louder. Even slower, by inches she moves, waiting for the touch. Soon, soon. Almost feeling it before it comes. She wants to open her eyes to peek, to see how much longer. But she resists, squinting her lids even tighter, the sky bright behind them, giving no hints. Suddenly she shrieks as the power rushes beneath her, fondles her thighs, between her legs, flows along her back, swirling under her head, pulling her hair in inky strands. She rolls faster into the deepening wave, against streaming shells and ocean bits, the water embracing her. Pushing against the sea’s strong body, she is grasped, held. Not alone. Kya sits up and opens her eyes to the ocean foaming around her in soft white patterns, always changing.

She'd learned over and over from Pa: these men had to have the last punch. Kya had left Chase sprawled on the dirt. The two old fishermen had probably seen her flatten him. As Pa would have it, Kya had to be taught a lesson.

This is the place where I want to be young To breathe the beginning breath Through newborn lungs To run barefoot chasing butterflies To sleep beneath wondrous skies To stand on stony mountains Far above the birch and pine Looking down at all about me I’ll call this world mine ….. When the wild wind sings I will hear its song That beckons to my heart, Tells me that I belong And all these hills and every tree Become a part of my story ….. Yet, as the pages of a story grow Characters learn, develop, go May it be granted, if I leave If I change in any way That this place will always remain The same as I saw it today ….. If my feet wander If life’s paths take me far Time may alter youthful face But let not it change a tree or star Let not it touch a leaf Nor a river, nor a stream Or raise a cloak of shadow Over even one sunbeam The years may not lift their hand To crumble any stone Or free their feet to trample Fields where flowers have grown ….. If I tarry long The song will bring me back If in the journey I am lost The wind will steer my track I will be changed when I come Grey hair and marred face But the hills will recall That I am one with this place Standing, just the way I used to Upon the mountain height Breathing, just the way I once did The crisp, star filled night And praying, just the way I always have That I might be young here.” — ‘Where I Want to Be Young