Color the Sidewalk for Me (21 page)

I was immediately incensed. How dare Mama talk to old Mrs. B. about me. Granddad was watching the news, and Daddy was playing a game with Kevy at the kitchen table. With an effort I screened out the unwanted noise and faded against the hallway wall to listen.

“It's like livin' with a storm. She cries buckets one minute and thunders around the house the next.” A pause. “Well, of course I worry. She won't eat; I know she's lost weight. I should never have let this thing get started. Has Patricia said anything more to Jessie?”

Patricia.
Danny's mama.
I sucked in a breath. I should have realized she would talk to the Hardings. How embarrassed I'd feel next time I baby-sat Miss Jessie's kids.

“Is she all right?” A long silence. Mrs. B. was probably talking a blue streak. “That man belongs in jail.” Mama's voice was hard. “How she's lived with him all these years. And how's Danny?”

This was terrible; now they were discussing him. I felt a catch in my throat.

“Poor boy. And hardly more than a child himself.”

I pictured Danny driving his daddy's truck, fighting for his mama, swimming with all his might to save Kevy. He wasn't a child. And neither was I. Children didn't feel the things we felt for each other. Neither Mama nor Mrs. B. nor any adult, save for maybe Granddad, could possibly understand.

“I know I shouldn't have let her see him,” Mama was saying. “I compromised my standards by setting that bargain with Dad, just to enjoy a little peace in my own house. And now we're all paying for it.”

I jerked my head toward Granddad on the couch. What was she talking about? Her inflection told me she wanted him to hear. The memory of their secretive glances across the table whirled through my head.

“I will say”—Mama's tone lightened—“I'm sorry to lose my clout with Dad. I imagine he'll be spoutin' war talk like mad now, makin' up for lost time.”

There it was! I couldn't believe it. Right in front of me and I hadn't seen it. I leaned my head against the wall. My throat caught again, my eyes stinging. I wouldn't have thought this, even of Mama. How dare she use me and Danny in her shameful games! What kind of a Christian mother was she? She didn't care about me. What she cared about was ruling her house, being queen of her little domain. She'd already had her thumb over me and Kevy and Daddy all our lives; now she'd finally found a way to control Granddad too, with me as her pawn. Well, I hoped she was satisfied. And to think she was laughing to Mrs. B. about it, my pain nothing to her.

Yanking myself from the wall, I stalked down the hallway toward Mama, balling up my robe in both hands. At the threshold I ground to a halt, fixing her with a narrow-eyed stare. She caught sight of me mid-sentence and abruptly told Mrs. B. she had to go. I turned from her in disgust. “Don't worry, Granddad!” I called over the television. “You go right ahead and tell all the war stories you want. And send in your medals, too. You don't have to bargain for me anymore!” Bursting into tears, I flung my robe against the wall, ran into my room, and slammed the door.

chapter 23

C
ome on, Celia, let's go!” Mary Lee Taylor called over the roof of her green Cougar.

“I'm comin', I'm comin'!” I banged out our screen door, trotted down the sidewalk, then pulled to a gape-mouthed halt as I got a better look at Mary Lee. “What did you do to your hair?”

She laughed merrily, sifting a frizzy strand through her fingers. “Like it? Cost me a bunch, not to mention sittin' under a steamin'-hot dryer in curlers.”

We slid into our seats while I examined her head warily. She'd cut her long dark tresses to shoulder length, and they stuck straight out like an overused mop, kinky waves running around her head. Mary Lee was a beautiful girl, big brown eyes, tall and slim. And she got to wear makeup, unlike me and my friends. But goodness, what she'd done now.

“It's the style, Celia,” she declared, fluffing it again. I could only nod. “So, you wanna go somewhere?” The Cougar's engine purred to life.

“You know I can't go outside Bradleyville.”

She shrugged. “Well, we can just ride around town for a while, I guess.”

“Okay.”

The breeze through our open windows was hot, whipping my hair around my face until I gathered it up and held it. Even driving around Bradleyville was a glorious escape from home; I'd not been able to stand looking at Mama since I overheard her phone conversation the night before. She'd probably allowed me to go to Mary Lee's just to get rid of me for a while, things were so tense between us.

“So where ya been? Every time I called lately, seems like you were sick.” Mary Lee shifted into low gear for a stop sign.

“I haven't been feelin' too good lately.”

She slid me a meaningful look. “So who is he?”

A strand of hair stuck in the corner of my mouth. I pulled it free. “Nobody.”

“Come on, Celia, I know that expression. Happens to me every time I change boyfriends.”

“Is that somethin' you do a lot?”

Her laugh was carefree. “Every now and then. When I get fed up with one, I just find another.”

We'd circled the block and were coming back down Minton. At the corner she turned right on Main, headed downtown. I managed a smile. “Well, I couldn't do that if I tried. There's not that many boys in Bradleyville.”

And only one I cared about, I thought. Gazing out the windshield, I mulled over the previous night. After I'd retreated into my bedroom, slamming the door, I could not be consoled. Kevy had tried his best, hugging me and fetching tissues as I slumped crying on my bed. Daddy had talked to me for a long time, telling me Mama hadn't meant to hurt me and that, bad as I felt right then, I'd get over Danny; there were other fish in the sea. I knew he hurt for me and meant well, but his words were so trite. He couldn't understand my torment, and he would never understand my anger at Mama's manipulations, he being so placid to her face. Kevy was the same way with Mama, malleable and meek. Granddad and I were the only ones who bucked and kicked against her reign, until even he had gone soft with her—for my sake.

“Now, don't be so judgmental,” Granddad had chided. “That's not the Christian thing to do. You're not seein' how much your mama's tried to bend things your way.”

“That's not true,” I'd retorted. “She's never gone out of her way to make me happy. You're the one who wanted me to talk to Danny, weren't you, and she used that against you. Your war stories for her permission—how clever. It kept me from fightin' with her and you from talkin'. Two flies with one blow.”

He'd squeezed my knee gently. “The bargain was my idea, missy. I was afraid she might not let you go to the river after that first time, and it seemed you were strikin' up a right good friendship with Danny. He mighta needed it more'n you. Ever since Jessie's wedding years ago I sorta kept an eye on that boy. There's something in him that speaks to my heart. So when I got a chance, I figured I'd help him out and pacify your mama at the same time. 'Cause I've been prayin' for God to heal things between me and your mama even longer than I been prayin' for Danny. Lord knows I done enough in my life to give her trouble.”

“You have not.” I'd been indignant.

“Celia! Hello!” Mary Lee waved a hand in front of my face.

I jumped. “Sorry. What?”

“I said Mona Tesch told me you're sweet on Bobby Delham, but you've been actin' kinda strange to him lately.”

I rolled my eyes. “Bobby Delham. Right.”

Two blocks down I could see the flag fluttering limply over the post office, where Mrs. B. worked. We cruised through downtown, crossed the railroad tracks, and made a U-turn. I looked longingly down Wilder Road, which ran parallel with the tracks. One mile and a left turn would take us past Danny's house. I thought about urging Mary Lee in that direction but didn't have the nerve. “We better go to your house now,” I told her.

The stairs in Mary Lee's large pillared home were carpeted in lush white that sank scrumptiously beneath my bare feet. My sandals lay near the front door. The mansion spread majestically on ten acres just outside town on Route 347, custom built for Mary Lee's family when they moved from Lexington to buy the lumber mill.

Mary Lee led me to her room, proudly showing her canopied brass bed. “I got new furniture and everything since the last time you were here. And look.” She crossed the large room to a record player and tall speakers. “This is new, too. What group do you like?” She began flipping through a stack of albums.

I squatted beside her, hiding my exasperation. Mary Lee had a way of pretending to assume things she knew weren't true. She was different from the other kids in Bradleyville, even went to an exclusive private school in Albertsville. Just being with her reminded me of everything I lacked. “I don't have a radio,” I told her. “So I don't really know.”

“I suppose your parents think listenin' to rock music is a sin.”

“Well, lots of parents in Bradleyville don't want their kids hearin' it.”

“And why, exactly?”

I sighed. “Same reason we don't watch much TV, I guess, other than the news—and cartoons when I was a kid. Supposedly, there's too much bad stuff in it.”

She widened her eyes dramatically. “So tell me. You ever get tired of followin' all those rules?”

I knew that Mary Lee wasn't a Christian, that she couldn't understand how the rules in Bradleyville were founded on Christian principles. Hidden beneath my simmering rebellion was an indomitable awareness of that fact, even though I was growing to hate the rules more each day. My conscience twinged, prompting an explanation to Mary Lee and a witness of what God could do in her own life. And then a voice inside me said,
How hypocritical you are.
Lately I'd been pushing God away, convinced that he simply could not repair the gaping holes in my life. Not with Danny and certainly not with Mama. Watching the cynicism crease Mary Lee's face now, I felt tongue-tied. At that moment a shift occurred around me, like the slight temperature drop when one crosses the threshold of a poorly heated room. It struck me that unencumbered Mary Lee seemed to enjoy life more than the rest of my friends. “Yes,” I declared, surprised at my cynical tone. “Mostly because Mama won't let me go anywhere or have a boyfriend.”

She exhaled loudly. “What's the matter with this town anyway? How do you stand it?”

“Well . . .” I weighed my response. “Maybe I won't much longer.”

“Is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?”

I pressed my lips together.

“Come on, Celia. The way you pooh-poohed Bobby Delham and all. You been sneakin' out with somebody behind your mother's back?” “No.” As if I could get away with such a thing.

“She's been lettin' you see somebody?”

“Not really.”

“I know who you like,” she drawled. “That country boy who saved your brother.” She couldn't miss my flitting expression. “Ha! I knew it! Come on, tell me.”

“It's kind of a secret.”

She sucked in air. “That's the best kind.”

When I hesitated further, she grabbed my hands to pull me across the room and onto the middle of her bed, climbing next to me. “Wait a minute,” she said, shuffling on her knees to each brass corner, where she untied the lace that held back frothy rose curtains. Swishing down around the bed, they filtered the natural light, tinting our skin a dusky pink. “There.” She faced me, cross-legged. “Now. Tell me.”

After hiding my feelings for Danny, it was a relief to gush to Mary Lee. I couldn't bring myself to shame him by telling her about his fight with his daddy. But I did speak of my growing feelings for him despite his reputation. “He doesn't fight at school anymore,” I added. “He's really different now. And around girls he's real shy.”

“Well, you can get him over that.”

I sighed, sudden tears clawing my eyes. Everything seemed so easy with Mary Lee, as if she could snap her fingers and creation would fall at her feet. That cavalier expression, the nuance of her lifted shoulder, only reminded me of skills I didn't possess. Nor could I imagine unleashing them on Danny. I'd been afraid to even take his hand, for goodness' sake.

Not that it mattered now.

“What is it?” Mary Lee tugged on my sleeve.

My legs were blurry against her white coverlet. “We had a fight and now he won't speak to me. Yesterday I saw him across the street but he just turned his back.”

“Oh.” Her voice dropped. “Did you try to talk to him?”

In front of Mr. Jenkins and hawk-eyed Jake Lewellyn? “No, I just . . . stared. He's the one who turned away.”

“Yeah, Celia, but sometimes you gotta make the first move.”

I started to shake my head.

“Well, you want him back, don't you? So call him, ask if you can meet somewhere.”

“I can't, Mary Lee. I have no privacy on our phone; somebody's always around. Plus what if his daddy answered, or his mama?”

“Hang up!”

Absently I rubbed a finger over her lacy bedspread. There was no way to explain to Mary Lee the serene exhilaration I'd felt while being with Danny. It was like the time I marveled at a large butterfly that had alighted on my hand. Danny wasn't someone I could recapture with a net of feminine wiles. He had to want to come back to me. “I just can't go runnin' after him, Mary Lee.” Blowing out air, I pulled aside a bed curtain, willing my face to brighten. “I'm sick of talkin' about him right now. Why don't you show me your new records?”

“Sure. We're gettin' too morose here anyway.” Thrusting open the curtains, she jumped off the bed and padded across the sun-drenched carpet. “You've heard of Saturday Night Fever, haven't you?”