Color the Sidewalk for Me (24 page)

“No, Mama, I just—”

“Celia.” She faced me, a hand on her hip, her voice low with anger. “You've been awful. You've whirled around this house like nobody mattered but Danny. You've moped in your room, makin' people come to you like you're some kind of princess. You've screamed at your brother, not seemin' to care he almost died two months ago.”

The last sentence hit my chest like a bullet. “And he would have,” I retorted, “if Danny hadn't saved him.”

“Yes. And I'll be forever grateful to him for that. But I hadn't thought I'd be payin' for it with my own daughter.”

Paying for it? My mouth hung open as I searched for a worthy reply.

“Look, Celia.” Mama put her hands on my shoulders. “You're growin' up. But you're still too young to have a boy come callin'.”

“I'm not askin'—”

“Just listen. For once in your life, just listen to me.” Her hold on me tightened. “There's one thing I've got that you don't. I've been your age. But you've never been mine. There are things you can't possibly understand yet. When I was fifteen, I liked a boy, too. Now I'm your mama and I have to worry about what's right for you.”

Danny is what's right for me, I thought.

“I can't control your feelin's. But I can control what you do, whether you like it or not. So let's get some things clear. First, I have a right to know as much as I can about whatever boy you like, for your own protection. And second, I have a right to peace in my own house—from you and from Dad's battle stories too, by the way, which I will detest to my dyin' day. Do you understand?”

I gazed at her, fervently wishing that my answer could be yes, remembering the revelation of a wretchedly disappointed six-year-old on a colored sidewalk. I hadn't understood my mama then and I could not understand her now. True to character, she had spoken of her rights. And I could only view her “protection” of me, lacking the loving touches that should have bolstered it, as control. As for Granddad, he gave me everything she did not, and in return she denied him his utmost, harmless enjoyment.

“Celia. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“All right then.” She turned back to the counter.

A picture of Danny's mama floated through my head—her arms wrapped around him, smoothing his hair, comforting him as he cried. The only time I could remember half as much gentleness from my mother was when she'd almost hugged me after I helped save Kevy from drowning. The grocery bags rustled as Mama slid them into the cabinet below the sink, bumping the door shut.

“And about Danny,” she continued as she put milk in the refrigerator. “If it'll keep peace in this house a few more weeks, I'm willin' to let you go to the river on Saturdays until school starts. With Kevin right beside you, hear? Once summer's over, that'll stop; you can see Danny at school.”

Slowly I placed a box of rice in a cabinet. Seeing Danny at school was all I'd do. We wouldn't have a moment to ourselves, with the whole school watching. Didn't Mama realize how merely eating lunch with him would send gossip rippling through town? Not that I'd care, but Mama spent so much time keeping me “proper,” I couldn't believe she'd stand for it.

“That's fair, isn't it?” she challenged.

Maybe it was the tilt of her head or that hint of amusement playing around her mouth. Whatever it was, it spoke volumes—
They're just kids; they'll get over it.
What I felt for Danny was nothing more to her than timorous fascination, a summer pastime that, come the fall, would dissipate like cheap perfume in the wind. Handing her the celery, I marveled at our peevish circle of misunderstandings.

“Sure,” I said, “that's fair.”

chapter 27

I
may have calmed down in the house, but Granddad prowled around it with the alacrity of a three-year-old waiting to open presents, his worries about me replaced with impatience over his medals. “Good grief,” I teased Sunday morning as I picked up my purse, “you gonna be like this all the way till November?” At church Jake Lewellyn yakked about the ceremony until one person after another congratulated Granddad.

“Gonna be honored by the governor, I heard!” Lee Harding declared jovially, pumping his hand. He cut an imposing figure in his Sunday suit, thick black hair matching his full mustache, eyes like giant coffee beans. His large hands were callused from years at the mill.

“Yep,” was all Granddad could say. But his eyes sparkled.

Mr. Harding turned from Granddad to nod at me.
He's heard, I thought. Danny's mama probably called Miss Jessie last night.

“Celia,” Miss Jessie offered, taking my hand, “you're lookin' a bit more chipper than the last time you were at our house.”

I squeezed her willowy fingers, grateful for her support. “I am.” I glanced from her to Mr. Harding. “Thank you.”

“Thomas!” Pastor Frasier boomed, approaching Granddad with an outstretched hand. “Jake's told me about your medals!”

I noticed Mama had positioned herself clear across the sanctuary, as far from Granddad's conversations as she could get.

All week long both Granddad and I were on tenterhooks—I waiting for Saturday and he apparently trying to acclimate to daily life without his medals. On Friday I reminded Kevy of our usual fishing date the following afternoon, casually adding that he remain quiet about Danny and I not staying beside him every minute at the river. He wasn't thrilled to be between me and Mama, history telling him that wasn't the most pleasant of locations.

“I don't want to lie,” he protested.

“I'm not askin' you to lie. I'm just askin' you to fish and not worry about anything else.”

“And if she asks me where y'all are? If you've gone upriver?”

“She doesn't know about us ever goin' upriver, so she won't ask.”

“And if she does?”

“She won't, Kevy.”

He sighed loudly, frowning until I teasingly said, “Don't smile.” Then he couldn't keep a straight face. We both laughed.

“What're you kids cacklin' about?” Granddad asked as he stumped through the living room.

“Nothin',” I replied, rolling my eyes at Kevy. Granddad must have cut a path through our carpet the past few days, wandering in and out of his bedroom, sinking onto the couch only to roust himself again, muttering under his breath the entire time.

“Whatsa matter, Granddad?” Kevy asked, suppressing a giggle.

“Nothin',” he said back, meandering toward the kitchen.

When the phone rang, Granddad jumped, then veered to answer it. Mr. Lewellyn was calling, gallantly inviting us all to Tull's tomorrow morning; the milk shakes were on him.

“Sure thing, Jake,” Granddad replied heartily. “We'll be there. Ten o'clock.”

He hung up the phone, shaking his head with a chuckle until he caught our curious stares. “And just what're you two lookin' at?”

“Nothin',” we said in stereo.

Saturday morning Daddy balked at going with us. “This is more for you and the kids, isn't it?” he said to Granddad.

“No sir, not today,” Granddad replied. “You been workin' hard all week; it's time you had a break with the family. Besides, I want you there with us.”

Daddy would never deny Granddad a request. He graciously accepted the invitation. Mama proved a different story.

“Estelle,” Granddad called into the kitchen, “come on outta there and go with us.”

Daddy and I exchanged surprised glances. Mama never went to Tull's except to buy necessities.

“No, thank you, Dad,” her voice lilted around the kitchen door. “I got some cannin' I want to do today.”

“It's too hot to can.”

“It's too hot to sit out at Tull's, too.”

I hadn't seen Granddad so peeved in a long time. He gripped his hat, set it on his head hard, then snatched it off again. “Come on, Estelle, keep an ol' man company.”

I felt a pang in my heart. He was only trying to make amends, simply trying to orchestrate a rare family outing. She appeared in the doorway, wiping a stray hair off her damp forehead, a kitchen towel hanging limply from her hand. “Thanks, Dad, but I got work to do. You go ahead now. And have a good time.” She threw him a consolation smile.

Without another word Granddad turned from her, mouth set, pain in his eyes. I'd been trying my best to get along with Mama, but I couldn't help giving her a look. “Well, come on, children.” Granddad put his hat back on. “And I thank you, William, for the pleasure of your company.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, eyes sliding toward the kitchen doorway. Mama had already disappeared.

“Wow,” Kevy commented as we pulled up to the curb by Tull's. “There's a whole bunch of people here. Look, there's Mr. Harding and Mr. B. and Policeman Scutch.”

“Mm. Mr. Tull's gonna run out of chairs.” Not that I cared if I had to sit on the sidewalk. I checked my watch, thinking that in less than three hours I would be on my way to see Danny. As I opened the car door, my thoughts flitted to Melissa and Barbara and Mona. I'd avoided them all week, not sure how and just exactly what to tell them. But I couldn't put it off much longer. They'd each called a couple of times, asking nosy questions. They already knew something was up.

“Well, hello there, Thomas! Brought near the whole family, I see.” Jake Lewellyn was in fine form, lolling in his chair, fat legs spraddled and jowls pink with heat.

“Howdy, Jake. Hank.” Granddad gave Mr. Jenkins' knees a friendly smack before settling in his chair. Mr. Jenkins was wearing his brown pants today and the wrinkled blue polyester shirt with a hole in its worn collar. “Afternoon, Frank,” Granddad said to Mr. B. “Lee, you leavin'

Jessie adrift with your three young'uns?” Rotating to the left, Granddad smartly saluted Policeman Scutch, who leaned against the drugstore window, fanning his face with a hand. He stopped fanning to salute back. Daddy shook hands all around. “Looks like we got ourselves a party here.”

“What's the occasion?” Granddad wondered.

Mr. Lewellyn shrugged. “Ain't no occasion, Thomas, other than you comin' down on a Saturday, when these fine folk're outta work, so I suggested they mosey on over.”

Granddad seemed disappointed.

There was a bit of settling to do, with Kevy and me fetching chairs from the store's back room, Mr. Tull flitting about filling orders for sodas and shakes, mopping his head with a hanky. I pictured Mama joining the group and thought she could have had a decent enough time. Looking around at our little gathering, I felt an unusual contentment. So much of my life was right there at that moment, I reflected—our family's closest friends, Granddad and his cronies, Tull's Drugstore, the frosty glass of a strawberry shake in my hands. Only Danny's presence would complete the picture. I tried to imagine him next to me, feeling at ease, but could not. His life in many ways was so far removed from mine.

“Aw, Thomas, what're you talkin' about?” Jake Lewellyn's voice broke through my thoughts. “You're as mean today as when you stole my marble over sixty years ago.”

“I didn't steal your marble, you ol' coot; I won it fair and square!”

“Won it! You call gyppin' your best friend fair and square? Nobody but you would fall that low.”

Granddad slushed his straw around his drink, animation spreading across his face. “Huh. That's a right good story; I wonder if everybody here's heard it.”

“They heared it a dozen times, Thomas; you got no cause bringin' it up.”

“I didn't bring it up; you did.”

Mr. Lewellyn snorted. “Don't matter anyhow. We ain't gonna talk about it.”

The tale of the marble was a Bradleyville legend. Seeing the man's huffiness now was all Granddad needed to launch into it, setting his milk shake between his legs so he could gesture. Mr. Lewellyn twiddled his thumbs with purpose, glancing down the street as if he'd be bored silly.