Hometown Legend (22 page)

She shut her book and smiled. “I’m glad you came.”

He looked away, his face red. “So you forgive me?”

“I do,” she said. “And I want to talk to you about, you know. But we don’t have much time.” He wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand and nodded.

“I figured out why I sounded phony about losing my mom,” Rachel said.

He raised his index finger. “I didn’t mean phony, but—”

“Sure you did, and you were right, but Elvis, I’ve been doing that for so long, I didn’t even know. I think I talk like that
because of my dad. Not that he makes me but just because I know it might hurt him if he knew how hard it really was for me.”

“He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy,” Elvis said. “The way he looks at you and talks to you, he seems all right.”

“But we usually only talk about my mom having been so wonderful and being in heaven now.”

“I know. It bothered me because I thought you were just being, what’s the word … ?”

“Unrealistic?”

Elvis nodded and looked away, busying himself with the lunch trash. “I wasn’t saying it wasn’t true, because I guess if you
believe it, that makes it true. I just couldn’t believe you could, I don’t know, take it so well with what you’ve had to go
without and all that. Maybe you
are
okay with it after all these years.”

Rachel stacked her books and sat up straight. “I want to admit something to you, Elvis, but can I argue with you too?”

He smirked. “You already proved that.”

She looked at her watch. “We’re not gonna be able to finish this now, but—”

“I was hoping we’d have to talk again.”

She felt her face flush. “I just want to say that you were right. I don’t only remember good things about my mom’s death,
but for so many years I’ve said what people want to hear and what my dad wants to hear. I believe it cause it’s true, but
you hit my problem right on the head. I’ve kinda pushed down my other feelings about all that. They try to come back now and
then, but I just start smiling and talking about how much God loves us and has taken care of us, and I keep ignoring the bad
memories and the stuff that really hurts. And I don’t think that’s good.”

“It’s not honest, anyway,” Elvis said.

“True. But I disagree with something you said—that if I believe something, that makes it true.”

“Seems like it.”

“Even if it’s not true?”

He cocked his head. “It’s not like I’ve thought it through. It’s just that there’s stuff I used to believe and I don’t anymore.
It’s not true to me.”

“But it’s true to other people?”

“If they really believe it.”

She stood and gathered her things. “We better get going. My next class is in Corridor D.”

“I’m in C. I’ll walk you.”

“So, let me ask you, Elvis. Is something true if you believe it but not true if you don’t?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So my mom’s in heaven with God and I’ll see her there someday if I believe that. But if I don’t believe it, she’s not there?”

They stopped at Elvis’s class. “You might be too smart for me, Rachel.”

“No,” she said. “But I might be more logical. By your reasoning, if something’s true because you believe it, then it’s not
true if you don’t.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“So if I get killed in a car wreck tonight, I’m only dead if you believe it?”

Rachel thought she had drilled home her point, but Elvis clouded over as if she had punched him in the face. “Don’t even say
that! Why would you say something like that?”

She was flattered. He didn’t want to think about something awful happening to her, but he had to see that whether he believed
it or not had nothing to do with whether it was true. “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re saying
nothing
to me!” he said. “Just forget it!”

And he left her standing there.

R
achel stopped in to see me after my class and asked if I would drive her to Tee’s Diner after practice so she could talk to
Elvis.

“I thought you weren’t gonna—”

“Daddy, please. Will ya?”

“Course.”

“But I don’t wanna be seen waiting for you. How bout I visit Bev and you pick me up at her house?”

I nodded and started to walk her out, but she wasn’t finished. “Daddy,” she said, “what happened to Elvis Jackson’s parents?”

I had to think about that one. “I know what he told Coach and me,” I said, “but unless he wants to tell you himself, I don’t
guess I ought to.”

She told me about their notes and their conversation. I looked at the floor. “You were trying to get him to tell you about
his parents?”

“Eventually. I know it’s too hard for him now, but if I can be honest about Mama, he’ll open up. But I said something wrong.
I was just trying to show him he was being illogical about what’s really true or not.”

“Let me just tell ya, you chose the wrong example.”

“They were killed in a wreck, weren’t they?”

I nodded. “You can’t let on that I told you that.”

• • •

I had to run to catch up with the team as they left the field house for practice. “Glad you could make it,” Coach said. “Should
I make you run laps?”

“Probably,” I said. “It’d only be fair.”

“Hey, how’s that secretary a yours doing?”

I’d’ve been hung out to dry if I called her a secretary in the wrong company, but I didn’t need to get into that with Coach.
I brought him up to date. “She got a case against Memorial?” he said.

“Probably,” I said, “but she’s not the type to go after em. She’ll say everybody makes mistakes.”

“Quite a mistake,” he said. I nodded. “Anyway, glad you’re here, Sawyer. You wouldn’t a wanted to miss my Longleaf Pine speech.”

I chuckled. “Heard that one three years in a row.”

“You wanna give it?” “It’s all yours, Coach. I wouldn’t want to steal that thunder.”

“It inspired you, though, didn’t it? C’mon, tell the truth. Did I waste my breath on that one?”

“Nah, it was all right.”

“Just all right? I always thought that was one a my best.”

I smiled, remembering how some of the guys snickered behind his back.

“What? Now, come on. That speech carried me to a lot of championships.”

“Then I know you’ll do your best with it today.”

• • •

The guys were finishing up a scrimmage when Coach called em around. “Take a knee!” he said. “Helmets off. I wanna tell ya
about one of my favorite trees. That’s right, this is a tree story. I’ve long loved this tree, not cause it’s so beautiful,
but because if you know something about it, you gotta respect it and learn from it.”

“Learn from a tree?” Sherman Naters said.

“Why don’t you wait till the end of my story till you decide whether it’s got anything to teach you. I been talking bout this
tree for years, but it wasn’t until nine years after I left Alabama that the state legislature proved they were smart as I
was and named it the state tree. Who knows what tree I’m talking about? Anybody? Nobody? Come on, you don’t remember this?
I heard about it in Kansas City forevermore, and they didn’t teach you kids about it? Who can guess?”

Yash raised his hand. “Some kind of pine.”

“Yes, sir! Some kind of pine, all right! What kind?”

Nobody spoke.

“Coach Sawyer, tell em what kind of a pine we’re talking about.”

After all my bragging about memorizing his speech I couldn’t remember. And he had just told me. All I knew was that it had
real long needles. “Long-needle pine!” I said.

“Oh, Coach Sawyer, I should make you run!”

“Longleaf Pine!” I said.

“More specific.”

I shook my head.

“The Southern Longleaf Pine, gentlemen! What’s so special about this tree? I’m gonna tell ya! The Southern Longleaf Pine can
get big around as four feet and stand 150 feet tall. That’s a big tree, but you know what it looks like before it’s five years
old? Anyone? Before it starts shooting up and developing foot-long needles and cones big as a cob a corn, it looks like a
little lump a grass. That’s right. The top is just needles, and all the growth those first few years is happening under the
ground. Know why I’m telling you this? Huh? Anyone?”

“Cause we’re out of our trees?” Snoot said, and everybody shook laughing.

“Well, you are, but that ain’t it,” Coach said. “Bear with me. I’m serious now. If that tree can hide itself and do all that
secret growing and establishing a foundation that can withstand 150 feet of height and four feet of diameter, how about you?”

Boy, did that bring back memories! Coach hadn’t forgot a thing. By the time I was a senior, we coulda said that ‘How about
you’ line in unison with him. “Well?” he thundered now. “How about you?”

“How bout us?” Brian Schuler said, looking around, fighting a grin. “Ain’t we something?”

Guys giggled and elbowed each other, but Elvis Jackson shouted, “Shut up! You guys stupid or something? The point’s obvious.
We’re little more than nothing now. Nobody even sees us building. We started out losing and then we were even, then we lost
again and won again, and now we’re one game up on the season and the league. It feels a whole lot better at 3-2 than it did
at 1-2, doesn’t it? But we’re the only ones who know we’re heading toward the league championship, then into the playoffs,
then the state championship. We’re nothing but a clump of fifteen needles right now, but come the finals we’re going to be
towering over everybody else. We’re going to be 150 feet tall and four feet around. We’re going to be the big old Southern,
what’d-you-call-it, Coach? Man! This would have been so much better if I could have remembered the name of that tree!”

The team laughed so hard most of em were crying, including Coach. “The Southern Longleaf Pine, Jackson,” he said. “And I couldn’ta
said it better myself, cept I woulda remembered the name.”

• • •

I stood in the long shadows watching the end of that practice and remembering the day when Buster Schuler would’ve tore some
heads off before he would let anybody laugh at one of his inspirational stories. But he had gone past that. He not only let
em laugh, he laughed with em. Course, it helped that Jackson got the point and pretty much taught it to everybody else before
missing his exit there. But what had happened to Coach? First he’d let me doll up a new offense, and now he was allowing boys
to get the point and get motivated without his bullying em?

We always ended practices with suicides, a series of sprints that really tested who was in shape and who wasn’t. There was
a way of faking how hard you were going, of course. Any coach worth his salt could tell. Sometimes you made guys run more
when you thought they were dogging it. Other times you let em off cause they’d played hard and practiced hard and you didn’t
wanna run em into the ground before the next weekend.

Strange thing that day, though. Nobody dogged it. They seemed to enjoy it. Elvis always outran everybody, but Brian and Yash
would give him a run for his money, and they usually wound up working harder trying to see who came closest to him. Today
they did that and so did everybody else. I swear everybody was faster, working harder, and seeming to have fun doing it. Course
even Jackson had to turn it up a notch, cause he would not be beat, no matter how psyched up everybody else got. Heck, I even
got into the action. I forgot how old I was, how gimpy the knee was, and how final-exam tired I was. I used to be able to
run pretty good and still had a little spring in my step. Course I took off about ten feet ahead of the guys, then turned
around and ran backwards till they almost caught me, taunting em, making em holler about me cheating. “Come on, ladies! Can’t
catch an old man?”

After all that, as Coach and I were picking up the gear, the guys raced each other to the field house. That wasn’t something
we told em to do. In fact, it wasn’t something we expected. After a good hard practice and a long round of suicides, the guys
usually dragged their tails in.

“You see that, Sawyer?” Coach said, heaving a bag of balls over his shoulder.

“I see it, but I don’t believe it.”

“Something’s happening with this team, son. They’re coming together.”

“I think it was the speech, Coach.”

“Okay, Sawyer.”

“I
do.
I think you got em believing they can be like the Southern what-was-the-name-of-that—?”

“Shut up.”

• • •

We liked the feeling in the locker room, and after the boys cleared out, Coach and I sat talking. “You know what, Calvin,
I been seeing a little progress with Helena.”

“Seriously?”

“She wants to see you.”

“She does not.”

“I’m not lying. She can still be cantankerous, but there’s some kinda softness coming back, something I haven’t seen for years.
That Mrs. Knuth says Helena is still sometimes telling people—when I’m not there a course—that she’s my wife. I mean, more
people. I’m not sure what that says, but it sure doesn’t seem like she’s gonna keep hounding me to quit.”

“Why she want to see me?”

“We’ve been talking a bit about the past. I keep trying to steer her away from the bad stuff, you know. But she remembers
you, and I talk about you a little. She remembers Rachel.”

I should’ve told him I thought she’d already seen Rachel, though she probably didn’t know it. I’d let Rachel tell him, if
she wanted to.

“She’s curious about other people too,” he said, “and ones I’m sure she’d like to see. But she’s embarrassed about where she
is and doesn’t want to see em till she starts getting out a little. But she knows you know where she is anyway, so …”

“I’ll come soon as I can,” I said.

“I’ve got some other news for you, Sawyer. News from Indiana.” He grabbed a manila envelope out of his desk drawer and slid
out a letter and a form and picture. “Is that a face or what?”

It was a little girl with big, sad eyes, kinda greasy hair, smiling bravely. The form said her name was Jennifer Lucas.

“Jackson’s foster sister,” Coach said, his eyes bright. “Look at the letter. They got her outa that trailer.”