Color the Sidewalk for Me (41 page)

We held each other for hours into the night, talking, planning, dreading the dawn. When he finally urged that we had to go, he lifted my chin and kissed me one last time, darkness flowing around us until the rest of the world fell away and there was only Danny, that moment. I wanted that kiss never to end.

“I love you, Celia,” he whispered into my hair. “Remember how much I love you.”

“I love you, too, Danny. I love you, too.”

Then I burst into tears, clinging to him. “Danny, don't leave me! I can't be here without you, not now. Your daddy's not here anymore; you can stay in Bradleyville this year!”

“Celia, don't.” He pulled me to his chest. His crying sounded low in his throat. “Don't do this to me. I love you too much.”

We cried together, rocking, until we could cry no more, and we sank against one of the trees, exhausted. Still we were unable to leave, gazing at each other's shadowed faces, tracing a fingertip down a cheek, smoothing hair from a forehead, pledging our love forever.

By the time I woke up in my bed the next morning, trembling and vacant, I knew he had gone.

chapter 47

I
thought I'd die of loneliness after Danny left. Bradleyville offered little to console me, save for Kevy and Daddy. Mama remained as indifferent as always, never once so much as mentioning the hurt she knew I felt. I told myself bitterly I should be glad she wasn't overtly gloating. And of course Granddad's room was empty, washing me with grief. Only our letters, so painstakingly written, got me through the days. They skimmed back and forth, passing each other in airplanes and mailrooms and through the arthritic fingers of Mrs. B. at the post office. My letters declared my love. Danny's letters declared his adoration, even while laced with the wonder and fascination of the world we would one day see together.

June 6

Dear Celia,

You wouldn't believe the ocean! It's so blue and the waves look so powerful. I like to hear the way they hiss on the sand. The water is beautiful under the moon. The beaches are packed. Kids make sand castles and couples are kissing. I miss you so much!

All that summer I baby-sat the Harding children, wiping noses and making peanut butter sandwiches while inwardly crying for Danny. My friends called occasionally but we had little to say. How could they understand my torture? Mary Lee I could have talked to. But she was off to Europe, running with the rich and beautiful. Mama and I avoided each other. I spent time with Kevy and went for evening walks with Daddy, who tried his best to assuage my sadness. He took to driving me into Albertsville for lunch every Saturday, pointing out boys my age. Feeling bad about his hurt for me, I almost told him of my plans with Danny numerous times. But I was afraid it would be more than he could keep from Mama and so remained silent.

August 15

Dear Celia,

Mama and I have found a small apartment. It's not in the best part of town, though. We have just enough for rent and food. But she's happy. She even hums while she cleans.

The ships really are big as buildings. My job seems easy after the farm. But life is not easy, because you're not here. The girls here make Mary Lee look like a kitten. Their swimsuits are shameless. Young boys and girls are together and no one cares. Bradleyville may be strict, but now I see the value of those ways.

The pangs of jealousy bit as I thought of Danny surrounded by half-dressed girls. Did they look at him the way Mary Lee had? How many gazed into those emerald eyes, wanting him?
Danny, I wrote, there's nothing here for me. I'm counting the months until I can be with you. Wait for me. Danny answered that he ached for me,
too, that the locket with my picture was always in his pocket.

Danny couldn't afford a phone and I had no privacy to talk anyway, so the letters continued to flow.
I'm saving every cent for you, he wrote. We can't live in this apartment when you come; you're used to so much better.
I knew we wouldn't have to live there; we'd have my inheritance. But still I did not tell him.

In late August Mr. B. retired, Lee Harding taking his place as mill manager. The church held an outdoor social to celebrate the two men, and most everyone came. Jake Lewellyn attended, sitting tiredly, absently tapping his cane. With no Thomas Bradley to nettle, he was withering away.
Mr. Lewellyn, I thought, I'm withering, too.

Miss Jessie whispered to me of the letters she'd received from Patricia Cander. “She sounds very happy and proud of her son. But he's moody from missin' you.” It may have been selfish but I was glad to hear it. He was the one who'd left, after all. Once his daddy was gone, he could have changed his plans, stayed in town with his mama and waited for me.

Mary Lee came with her parents, the bright spot of the day. She was back from Europe and leaving for Lexington the next week. “Look at you,” I breathed. Her hair was even longer and her makeup perfect. Rich and beautiful Mary Lee. Was Danny seeing girls like this?

“I met a man in Paris,” she gushed. “Ah, such a city!” Pulling at her shirt, she feigned a rapidly beating heart.

We wandered away from the crowd, and I told her about sneaking out to see Danny that last night. I had to tell somebody.

“You mean you managed to sneak out without little ol' me?” Throwing back her head, she laughed at the sun. I laughed with her. It had been a long time since I'd done that.

“When are you leavin' for Lexington?”

“In three days.”

“Oh, Mary Lee, I'm so happy for you. But I'll miss talking to you.” “Yeah. I'll miss you, too.” She fell silent for a moment. “You sneak a call to Danny every once in a while, don't you?”

“No. He doesn't have a phone.”

“Oh, really,” she said, the words wrapped in suspicion.

“He doesn't have the money.”

“Everyone has the money for a phone. You should be able to get hold of him.”

“He's savin' for when we're together.”

“Mm. Well. You just keep writing him. Remind him you're here, languishing, while he's chasin' waves.”

I didn't like her tone. Mainly because it reflected my own thoughts.
Mary Lee, I thought, not everybody is as fickle as you.

Fall arrived. Leaves turned orange-gold, then skittered in brown crackles along Bradleyville streets. At school I ate lunch with Barbara and Melissa, enviously hearing about their dates, their boys coming to supper. “But I don't know about Bobby,” Melissa confided. “His mind seems somewhere else.”

I knew where his mind was. Still on me.

He'd arrived at our door the previous Saturday, lips pressed in vulnerability, wondering if I would give him a chance now that Danny had gone.
Poor Bobby,
I thought. Such courage it had taken to come to me again. “Bobby,” I said gently as we stood on my porch, “you're calling on Melissa, my best friend. If she was to step outside her door right now and see you here, what would she think?”

He looked at his feet. “It'd be worth it, if you said yes.”

“Bobby. Stay with her; she cares for you. You know who I love.”

His dreams crumbled from his face.
“Why,
Celia? Why him? I've done everything. Even left you alone. He had nothin' to offer you. Now he's gone and he won't be back.”

“He has himself. That's all I want. He's offered that and I'm takin' it.”

He stared at me, eyes widening, as understanding seeped into his consciousness. The realization that I would leave Bradleyville to follow Danny shook him to the core. He turned away, holding in his hurt. My heart ached with remorse for him. If it weren't for Danny, maybe I could have loved him.

“I'm not goin' to tell Melissa you came. It would only hurt her.”

“Yeah. Well. Be seein' you, Celia.” As he crossed the sidewalk, he could not refrain from looking back. Mama drove in from the grocery store as he was leaving and gave me a pointed look.

October 21

Dear Danny,

What do you know, I had a gentleman caller yesterday. Remember good-looking, nice Bobby Delham? Always liked me, hated you. He let me know he'd drop Melissa like a hot potato if I'd just say yes. Mama was all over me about it, telling me I was a fool and that I could learn to love him. First time she'd spoken to me in days ...

October 26

Dear Celia,

I punched his prissy friend Gerald Henley in the nose; I suppose I can come back and punch Bobby. You tell him to stay away. I can't stand to think of somebody else talking to you about love. No one could love you like I do.

Ha! I thought, hugging the letter. The wild bird flown knew jealousy, too.

For Christmas Kevy got a new bike, slate blue and shiny. Throwing it on the melted snow of our lawn one Saturday in January, he fell into a porch chair next to me, sweat vaporizing off his head. “Waitin' for the mail?”

I nodded, shivering.

He looked at me pensively. “I miss Danny. You gonna see him again?”

I hesitated. “Sometime.”

“When? How?”