Playing by Heart (26 page)

C
HET

As I paced my classroom, warm air dampened the flesh where my collar circled my neck. Should I seek out Lula? Apologize to her? I'd kissed her. Gotten caught. Put her job in peril. Then spouted off a rash proposal to win her favor.

Yes, most other women—women like Miss Delancey or Miss Morrison—would have jumped at the chance to score a husband. But not Lula. Likely she despised me now for such a heedless, arrogant action. As if marrying me would solve everything. I snorted. No one deserved to be involved in the mess I'd made of things.

And yet I couldn't forget our kiss. The way she'd leaned into it. Didn't resist. The warmth on my neck intensified. I sucked in a breath. I didn't want that to be the last time my lips met hers. Not when for the first time since Pa's death I'd felt . . . at home.

I shook my head, eager to dissipate the images. Even if I risked more time alone with her to apologize, I'd then have to tell her of my enlistment. And the terror of that held my feet fast.

Ma's reaction hadn't been anything like I'd expected. First she'd wailed and locked herself in her room, didn't come out until the sun started its descent on Saturday. Sunday had been even worse. She cajoled, badgered, nagged—this time trying to get me to undo what she'd wanted so badly before.

Then she quit. Went silent. No reproach in her eyes, only sadness. Disappointment.

I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Lula, too.

Air. I needed fresh air.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I descended the stairs. I glanced at the stairwell leading to the basement classrooms—to Lula—and hurried past the temptation.

Outdoors, a gentle spring breeze cooled some of my anxiety. I breathed in the clean smell of the new grass, circled the stout trunk of an ancient oak tree, then kicked at a piece of loose bark near the base. Enlisting had seemed the right course in the moment. If only I'd consulted the Lord for confirmation instead of my grieving heart.

What had been done was done. I couldn't fix things with Lula or Ma. But Blaze—

I took a deep breath. Sal had come by on Saturday afternoon and told me Blaze had moved back home that morning. I'd stared, drop-jawed.

“But he—”

Sal chuckled. “Arch couldn't resist coming to watch his boy play ball after all. And when he saw the whole town behind them, Blaze leading the team to the win?” Sal shrugged. “Guess it reminded him to be proud of his son instead of critical. I think he loves the boy, just doesn't know how to show it.”

I wanted to hear the whole story from Blaze—about his father and the game. And I needed to congratulate my team on a job
well done. Apologize for not being there to witness it. Explain my enlistment, too. Perhaps I owed them that most of all.

Even though the season had ended, I asked the boys' team to join me for a post-game talk that afternoon. I cranked open the windows in the gymnasium, hoping to circulate the freshness of early March after the musty closeness of winter.

But the air felt heavier than before. And scented with rain. I glanced into the sky. Clouds roiled over the gray surface. To the west, the verdant sky edged toward black.

The first spring storm. I cranked the windows closed again and waited for my team to arrive. I'd make my speech quick, send them home before the deluge.

The boys trickled in, most eyeing me with the distrust I knew I deserved. I'd let them down. As a coach. As a man. My chest tightened.

Was this how Pa had felt, sitting alone in a cell? Did he recognize what he'd done—and hate himself for it?

I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair as I stood before them. “As many of you have no doubt heard, on Friday afternoon I received word that my older brother, Clay, died in France.”

Two boys squirmed, and the rest sat frozen.

“I understand Blaze did a fine job leading you on my behalf.”

Blaze's head dropped lower, and his finger scattered the dust on the empty floor beside him. A rumble overhead shook the room. Best get on with what I had to say.

“I'm so proud of y'all. You didn't just go from a losing season to a winning one. You won every single contest. Your tenacity inspired an entire community and even secured a large war
bond purchase from the town of Dunn and the promise of a new gymnasium for those who will come behind you—or for some, yourselves, should the war end as quickly as we hope.”

Felix looked me in the eye and nodded. The others kept their gazes averted. Blaze stared at the ground.

The outside light dimmed. I couldn't see the boys' faces clearly anymore. Maybe that was best for finishing out my speech.

“Finally, I need to tell you that I won't be around next season.”

Several exclamations sounded at once. Blaze's head rose slowly. I held up my hand as thunder grumbled overhead and a flicker of lightning flashed through the windows.

“I've enlisted.”

Silence.

“But, Coach—” Felix shot a shocked look toward the rest of the group. Blaze lowered his head.

I clapped Felix on the shoulder. “I'm sure Principal Gray will do everything within his power to find you a good coach for next year.”

“Like Miss Bowman?” Glen's question was followed by a few snickers.

My jaw tightened. “Whoever it is, I expect you to give them your best, as you have for me.”

Their chorus of “Yes, sir” echoed in the gymnasium.

Another boom of thunder overhead. Another crack of lightning.

I jerked my head toward the door. “Y'all get on home now. Looks like we're in for some rough weather.”

The boys gathered their books with solemn faces. I followed them outside, eager to be in our storm cellar should things turn bad, anxious for Ma not to endure the storm alone.

The wind shrieked in through the door when Blaze opened it. Each of us pushed against its force, one step at a time. I clapped a
hand over my hat to keep it from flying away. Then Virgil tapped my shoulder, pointed to the sky. We looked up, every one of us. A cloud column rose in the west. How far away, I couldn't rightly say. But too close for comfort. Especially since it seemed to be rotating!

“Get back inside!” I yelled.

No one protested. We slammed the door shut. Barred it closed. Then I led the boys to the basement. We crammed into the custodian's closet, prayer sprinting through my head. For us. For our families. For the entire town of Dunn and those residing in the tents at Camp Doniphan, in case this weather extended there, as well.

Then I cracked the closet door and listened. Rain slapped the windowpanes. The boys sat on the floor, silent. Then the ping of hail on glass.

Blaze stood next to me. “You think it'll be a twister?”

I shook my head. “I wish I knew. If it doesn't get worse in the next few minutes, I'll go up and scout around, but it looked like it was coming right toward us.”

As we stared into the darkness, I wondered if Blaze was worried about his pa in the dugout on their land. Did they even have a storm cellar? Of course he'd be worried about Nannie and her family, too, as I was about Ma—and Lula and Jewel and her kids.

“I'll just go up real quick—”

A loud whoosh like a speeding train filled the building, shook the walls. I pushed Blaze back into the closet, slammed the door, and held it closed, the knob biting into my hand, my arms aching with the strain.

Would I ever see Ma again? Or Lula? Would we emerge to a world unscathed or one in which tragedy met us around every corner? I squeezed my eyes shut, started to pray. I thought I was saying the words in my head, but soon discovered I was speaking
aloud. Asking God's help. His protection. Several boys mumbled along, sending their own petitions to the Almighty.

And then everything stilled. Including our voices. Leaving only the panting of breath and the beating of hearts in our ears.

My arms relaxed and the door eased open. I glanced down at my wristwatch. What had seemed an hour had been mere minutes. I swallowed hard, praying others in town had seen the signs early enough, found shelter. I poked my head into the hallway. Ceilings and walls remained in place. I motioned the boys out of the closet. We inched up the stairs, bunched like a herd of cattle. Some broken glass crunched underfoot, but I sighed with relief that the building appeared intact.

I pushed open the front door of the school. A few high clouds skated across the blue sky. Branches and leaves littered the ground. The boys broke away, each in the direction of their own homes. Blaze remained at my side.

“You heading out to your place?” I asked.

Blaze shrugged. “After I check on things around here.”

Which meant he wanted to be sure Nannie was okay.

“I'll be glad for your company, then.” We walked forward in silence.

Half a block later we saw two houses, flat as pancakes.

Our steps slowed.

A motorcar on its side. A bicycle mangled at the base of a tree, one wheel spinning.

I broke into a jog.

Shards of glass. Splintered fences. Downed trees.

I started to run. One block, then another, Blaze keeping pace.

Surely Ma had made it to safety.

Then I saw my Tin Lizzie, half buried in the side of the house.

“Ma!” I ran to the storm cellar, yanked on the door. It flew open, unbolted. I called down into the darkness.

No answer. Only the faraway cry of a baby, the bark of a dog.

“Ma? Are you here?” I climbed over broken boards and mangled metal, and through the hole smashed in the side of the house. I reached the stairs. The structure had been compromised. I screamed for Ma again. I couldn't go up. If Ma were upstairs, she couldn't come down.

I stumbled beyond the dangling front door, out to the stoop.
Dear God, what do I do now?
A bird chirped as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

The
church.

If there was trouble, Ma would go to the church. I sprinted in that direction, noting vaguely that Blaze had vanished. To go to Nannie's house, no doubt. I ran down the block, past pristine houses alongside others that seemed to have endured a stampede of wild horses.

I found the church untouched, the late afternoon sun streaming through the high clouds and surrounding it like a halo.

The door creaked open as usual. I stepped inside. The rush of air flickered the flames of dozens of candles illuminating the room. “Ma?”

Then Lula stood before me, eyes wide, face white. Alive. Unhurt.

I grabbed her shoulders, ready to pull her into my embrace. Her hands clamped over my wrists, held me away. “She's here, Chet. Your mother's here.”

She continued on, but the words made little sense in my ears. I only knew she'd told me Ma was alive.

“Hush now. It's all right.” Lula's gentle hand stroked my head as her arms circled my body. I clung to her, noticing, finally, the heaving sobs that pierced the quiet. Then realizing that terrible noise was me.

L
ULA

Mrs. Vaughn held her son, but her gaze locked on mine.

Thank you
,
she mouthed. Gratitude from soundless lips that could apply to so many things. Bringing her to the church. Comforting her son. Music shared in the dark sanctuary over the past few months.

“Lula!” Jewel. She sounded calm, but with an edge that pulled me through the commotion of the church to reach her. She grabbed my hands and squeezed, JC hovering near, his face gray with fear. “We were worried sick. I had the children in the storm cellar, but we didn't want to bar the door for fear you'd need to get in. JC held it shut until the wind stopped.” She beamed at her son, who seemed to grow two inches with the praise.

“I'm so sorry.” I hugged her, then helped her to a pew. “I knew Chet was still at school. I was— I got worried about his mother.”

Questions gleamed in Jewel's eye. I refused to acknowledge them, to admit I cared what happened to Chet's mother because I cared about Chet.

Because I loved him.

The thought scraped over my raw heart, igniting a new wave of pain. He was here. In this room. Safe. But I had no claim on him.

I forced my thoughts to the loved ones in front of me. Jewel and JC. I brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucked it beneath a hairpin. “Where are the other children, JC?”

He swallowed, glanced at Jewel. “I couldn't let Mama come here alone. I sent them next door.”

I tousled his hair and smiled down at him. “Good job, JC. You took care of everyone.”

He huffed out a huge sigh and then grinned, some color returning to his cheeks.

Then Jewel grimaced, her hand skittering over her round stomach. A deep inhale. A slow exhale. I swallowed hard. Oh no. Not here! Not now!

“You ought to be at home.” I tried to hoist Jewel to her feet, but she wouldn't budge.

Her face hardened. “I can't.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Get. Doc. Adams.”

JC's eyes grew round and frightened. Mirroring mine, I imagined.

Jewel hissed as she sucked in air. “Now, Lula.”

I couldn't move. How would I find the doctor in this chaos? He could be anywhere. A hand seized my arm. I spun around, peered into the face I needed most.

“Ma told me what you did for her, Lula. Thank you.” Gratefulness softened Chet's eyes, turning my knees to jelly. I wanted to wilt into his arms, but Jewel's groan snapped my mind back to the moment.

I pointed out the door. He let go, clearly confused. “It's Jewel. I have to find the doctor.” Reason fled. I clutched his arm. “Help me. Please.”

A guttural cry rose above the squall of voices. Mrs. Vaughn rushed across the sanctuary and knelt beside my sister.

With a hand at the small of my back, Chet propelled me through the curious onlookers. We reached the door, anxious to be free from the crowd. The door opened before I could touch the latch, bringing me nose-to-nose with Miss Morrison. She blinked, her eyes and mouth both round. But as her gaze roamed over my shoulder, she smiled.

“Why, Chet! Fancy finding you here.” She stepped forward, forcing me back. But I had nowhere to go. Chet remained rooted to the ground behind me.

“Did you come to help?” Chet's voice sounded friendly, but I could hear the edge, the same tightness it had when his team didn't do as he'd instructed.

“Of course! Isn't this just awful?” She skirted around me, tried to take Chet's arm.

“Good. They need help. Now if you'll excuse us.” Chet urged me into the gold-washed world. I looked for his automobile, couldn't find it in the cluster of cars near the church.

“It's buried in my house,” he said, as if reading my mind. His pace increased. I tried to keep up, taking two steps to his every one, worrying about Jewel with every heartbeat. I glanced back at the church. Miss Morrison stood in the yard, arms crossed, watching us go.

When we arrived at Doc Adams' house, my lungs struggled to draw air. Chet was barely winded. No visible damage here, but no occupants, either. A window opened next door and a gray-haired woman poked out her head.

“He's over on Tenth Street. A boy hit with flying debris.”

Chet sprinted away. I flew after him, a hand at my side trying to stop the pain that skewered with every breath. We reached
Tenth Street. Doc Adams had departed. Needed over near Mifflin Avenue, someone said.

Exhaustion, frustration, and fear swirled into a wail. I leaned against the porch railing of the house where we'd stopped.

Chet's hands cupped my face. “We'll find him, Lula. We
will.
”

I nodded in spite of my tears, my fears.

On
Christ the solid rock I stand.

I grabbed his hand. “Pray,” I breathed.

And he did. “We need direction, God. Help us to know where to go, what to do.” Chet spoke as if God stood at his side. I almost expected to hear an audible answer. Though no voice replied, the solidness of Chet's faith anchored my own.

Twenty minutes later, Chet rushed back into the church, Russell in one arm, Inez in the other. I followed, Trula grasping my hand so as not to get left behind.

I pried her fingers from mine and attached them to Chet's suit coat. “Wait here,” I whispered before sweeping past Miss Morrison, nearly knocking her flat. Why was that woman always in my way?

Outside Pastor Reynolds' office, low voices murmured through the closed door. A long grunt. Quiet. Then the piercing wail of a disgruntled babe.

I leaned my head against the door, tears of relief and joy and sorrow mingling on my cheeks.
Thank you, Lord. Thank
you for my
—

My head popped up.
Niece or nephew
?

Without a sound, I slipped into the room. Jewel lay limp on a pallet on the floor, Doc Adams attending her. Mrs. Vaughn scooped water from a basin over the squirming, screaming ball of flesh. “It's another girl. And she's beautiful.”

She wrapped the child in an old shirt before placing her in Jewel's arms.

“Davina.” Jewel stroked the pink cheek with the back of her fingers. A tear slid down her face and baptized the fuzz on her daughter's head. She smiled, wiped the place dry.

“Is she—?”

Doc Adams patted my shoulder, eyes still on baby and mother. “A little on the small side, but she looks fine.”

I knelt beside Jewel and my new niece, pushed back the sweat-soaked hair around my sister's face. I couldn't utter a word. My heart was too full. Missing Mama and Daddy. Missing Davy. How much more did Jewel ache with their absence?

Jewel laced her fingers through mine. “JC told me to stay put while he went to find you, but I didn't listen. Imagine that.” She smiled wryly in my direction before she gazed at her baby again. I wanted to laugh. Jewel had never been the obstinate one. That had been my role, and I'd played it better than any starlet of stage and screen.

She took a jagged breath. “I'd never have forgiven myself if stubbornness would have cost me this child.” Jewel's attention returned to me, eyes brimming with tears.

A loud, familiar voice came from the front the sanctuary. “Where? Where is she?”

One look in Jewel's eyes and I knew what she wanted me to do. I sprang to my feet, quickly reaching the sanctuary, where Bo was turning circles in the aisle, eyes wild. I grabbed his arms, shook him still.

“Bo. Listen to me. She's here. She's all right.”

He calmed, finally seemed to see me. “She's all right?”

I nodded. “The baby, too.”

Doc Adams answered our timid knock at the door. I led
my nieces and nephews to their mother's side, their eyes wide with wonder and a bit of fear. Bo held back, as if unsure of his reception. I nudged him forward. Jewel propped the baby up a little. Russell reached. Bo grasped his little hand, guided it gently to Davina's head. Inez popped her thumb in her mouth and pressed into Bo's side. Trula cooed to her sleeping sister while JC's grin encompassed them all.

Then Bo's focus moved from the baby to Jewel.

I leaned against the wall. The love shining from Bo's eyes left me breathless. Mrs. Vaughn and the doctor had vanished altogether. I ought to leave, too, but the scene held me captive. What would it feel like to have a man look at me that way? To have Chet look at me that way? With such obvious devotion.

And like a flash of light in a dark sky, I realized Jewel didn't need me anymore. Nor did JC, Trula, Inez, or Russell. At least not in the same way as before. I wrapped my arms across my chest. It was what I'd wanted—to be released to go back to my old life. To resume my course to make something of myself. To make Daddy proud. But like the tornado through the streets of Dunn, these past few months had broken apart the life I'd so carefully constructed. Splattered it to the ground.

For the first time, I asked myself what Lula Bowman really wanted.

Bo and I corralled the children while Mrs. Vaughn—Louise, as she'd insisted I call her—cooed over Davina and fussed over Jewel. “I'll take good care of them until the doctor says they can be moved home again.”

And I knew she would.

I spied Chet near the pulpit, passing out quilts to the displaced—
like himself—to bed down in the church. Sarah Morrison smiled at his side. He reached to take a quilt from her hands. Their eyes met and held. Inez tugged at me. I lifted her into my arms, my focus stuck to Chet and Miss Morrison. Her whispered words, his low chuckle. My heart lurched. Had I waited too long to admit even to myself my true feelings for Chet?

He turned his head, looked straight at me. I let my gaze fall from his, peered into Inez's small face. “Let's go home, sweetheart.”

Bo drove the children and me home, dodging tree limbs and other debris strewn across the streets. At Jewel's house, a few shingles from the roof littered the yard. I thanked Bo, grateful for his help, his presence, but wanting him away, needing to be alone.

“I'll check in when I'm able,” he said before motoring off.

Inside, I fumbled for candles and matches, finally acquiring enough light for us to mount the stairs without mishap. Exhaustion tugged at my limbs, but once the children were asleep beneath their blankets, I couldn't keep my mind still. Too many thoughts of Jewel and Bo. Of Louise and Chet. Of all I'd thought and seen and experienced in a few short hours that felt years long.

I cleaned the kitchen by candlelight, then curled on the sofa with one of Jewel's dime novels. Anything to distract me from a pair of dark eyes in a striking face—and the heart of compassion that beat beneath the broad chest. We'd been friends because of basketball. Because of Nannie and Blaze. I'd been the one to stop it there—at friendship. But now I wanted so much more.

A gentle tap startled me. Or had it been my imagination? I held my breath, listening. One of the children must have slipped out of bed to use the chamber pot. Or maybe the wind had blown a branch over rough ground.

I returned to my book, senses heightened. One sentence later, the plink of an object against glass gained my attention. I lit a larger candle and crossed to the foyer, cracking open the front door.

Soft footfalls over dead grass pulled my attention to the left. The flicker of candlelight caught Chet's face.

My heart skipped a beat. Had something happened to Jewel? To the baby? I sucked in a breath. He mounted the porch. “There's something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” I whispered, afraid of the answer, afraid of breaking the fragile connection between us.

“May I come in?”

My gaze swept over the yard, the street. I opened the door wide. “I'll put on some coffee.”

I slipped into the kitchen, stirred the coals in the stove, and set the coffee pot to boil. If only I could read his face more clearly than in the dim light of a single flame. And yet I was glad he couldn't decipher mine. Desire to give in to my feelings for him swayed me like a sapling in a strong wind. And then I remembered I didn't have to hold myself upright.