Playing by Heart (28 page)

C
HET

My head jerked up. I stared at Lula as if seeing her for the first time. And perhaps I was. I'd come to offer her my heart. Haltingly. Fearfully. Instead, she'd seen my deepest need and met it, without reservation or condition.

Ma was right. I'd never find another girl like Lula. I could shut away my feelings for her until I returned, safe and sound, from the Western Front, or I could trust that God would hold us secure.

Her slender fingers still covered my hand, making no move to let go. I needed to see those strong hands in motion, hear what they would say to my heart. I cleared my throat. “Play for me once more?”

Her delicate eyebrows dipped as she frowned. But she rose, set herself at the piano, and ran through a quick chorus of something. It didn't matter. I simply needed her music to give me courage.

I stood at the piano, facing her, as her hands stilled. “I don't want to go,” I said.

Her dark eyes glistened before her gaze slid to the floor near my feet and her hands rested in her lap. “I know. But you'll be fine. And so will your mother, and even Blaze. I'll keep after him until graduation.” Her voice hitched on the final word.

My fingers found the soft skin beneath her chin. I guided her head up, willing her eyes to meet mine. “I'm not worried about all of them. I don't want to leave
you.
”

Her lips parted in a gasp. The pools in her eyes expanded, overflowed. I pulled her to her feet, held her face between my hands, caught the trails of tears with my thumbs. “I'm sorry. I should have sought you out after . . . after Principal Gray came. I should have made them see it was all my fault. I told myself you'd never want to see me again. Can you forgive me for being a coward?”

Her head dipped forward. I pulled her closer, my face inches from hers. “I know I did this wrong the first time. I was thoughtless and frantic and just . . . dumb.”

Her mouth curved in a slow grin as she leaned her cheek into my hand, then turned her face until her lips met my palm. I sucked in air but couldn't find my voice.

“I can't bear to see you leave, and yet you must go, mustn't you?” She brushed my cheek with her fingertips, sending bolts of electricity from my head to my toes.

I smoothed her silky hair away from her face, memorized the color of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the shape of her mouth. The smooth, round jaw. Dark eyebrows and hair against ivory skin. I dropped to one knee. “Could you, Lula? Would you marry me?”

Her hand covered her mouth. My heart sank. Had I done it wrong again? But then she looked at me, her eyes soft with understanding. “Oh, Chet. I never thought you'd ask again. Yes, I'll marry you!”

I locked her tight in my arms, her tears wetting the front of my uniform.

Clamoring whispers, loud hushes. I peered over Lula's shoulder. Jewel peeked into the room, Russell on her hip. Her eyebrows arched in question. I nudged Lula. She turned, flew from my side into the arms of her sister.

Moments later, the room teemed with people. Jewel and the children. Ma, hustling in behind them, folding Lula into her embrace. Even Blaze and Nannie, hands clasped, faces bright.

Those who loved us, who loved one another, all gathered around. Ma and I had lost both Pa and Clay, but oh, how much God had given to us in return.

The next morning, Lula and I stood on the train platform, a bit of a chill in the early April morning. Smoke puffed in small clouds from the stack on the train's engine. When the whistle blew, we would have to say good-bye.

Ma stood rigid, but calm, as if willing herself not to cry. Jewel tried to keep the children from darting onto the tracks. Nannie flitted from person to person, Blaze in tow, enjoying the drama, I supposed. And Lula clung to my hand, pressed close to my side.

I looked down at our intertwined fingers. “I'm sure someone will report this to Principal Gray,” I said with mock severity. As if any more damage could be done. And yet, without all the adversity, maybe Lula and I wouldn't be standing like this at all. We'd still be separate, each pining for the thing we thought out of reach.

Lula glanced across the platform and tightened her grip.

Principal Gray strode toward us. “Chet. Miss Bowman.” His gaze wandered to our clasped hands and he grinned. “We'll
miss you, Chet.
I'll
miss you. But maybe we'll have the Huns put in their place in time for you to lead our basketball team next season.”

“We can certainly pray so.” I shook his hand.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Lula. “Miss Bowman, I'm glad you're here, too. I've talked to the school board and explained to them that I'm in a precarious position with so many men joining up. I need a full staff next year. A staff of good, experienced teachers. It took some talking, but they finally listened. And understood.”

Lula lifted her chin. “What are you saying, Principal Gray? Are you offering me my job back?”

“Not exactly.”

Lula seemed to shrivel. I wanted to slug the man. “Now look here—”

Principal Gray held up his hands and chuckled. “Hold your horses, son. I said I wasn't offering her
her
job back. Instead, I'm offering her yours.”

“My job?” I swung my head toward Lula. Her mouth hung open. I chuckled. Who knew that by leaving I'd give her exactly what she'd wanted all along? At least in part.

“Yes, your job. Until you return from doing your duty.”

Lula bit her lip and looked at me. I nodded. She dipped her head in Principal Gray's direction. “I'd be more than happy to step into Chet—Mr. Vaughn's place.”

Principal Gray's eyebrows lowered playfully. “As long as you can assure us you will stick to the terms of your contract, of course.”

Lula grinned and pressed her shoulder into mine. “As soon as my betrothed boards this train, there will be no other men in my life, Mr. Gray. Except my nephews, of course. And my
brother-in-law to be. And Blaze Clifton, when he needs help with mathematics.”

Principal Gray's laughter rang in the morning air. He slapped me on the shoulder. I joined the merriment.

“Miss Bowman, that is just the answer I'll give to anyone who questions your situation, for I would sorely hate to lose two good teachers at once.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lula rested her cheek against my arm as the train whistle ended the conversation.

Principal Gray shook my hand again and walked away. I hugged Ma, Jewel, and the children.

Blaze mumbled good-bye, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground.

I clapped him on the shoulder. “I'm counting on you, Blaze.”

He looked at me.

I leaned in. “I expect you'll keep an eye on Ma and Miss Bowman. And I'll see your diploma when I get back.”

He grinned and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

The iron horse behind us belched steam. I pulled Lula away from the others.

“Don't say good-bye,” she whispered. “I can't bear it.”

“I'll be back before you know it. Until then, I expect you'll hold your own.”

She pressed her forehead to my chest, then raised her face to mine. I rubbed my thumb across her damp cheek.

“I love you, Chet Vaughn. Come home to me soon.”

I leaned toward her, the wide, flat brim of my campaign hat shielding us from the view of the world.

L
ULA

The rubber soles of boys' shoes slid on the wood floor, providing high-pitched squeaks to balance out the bass-clef thud of the basketball on the ground. They took some getting used to, these new Converse All Stars. But Felix and the other boys insisted the canvas sneakers that rose over their ankles helped their game.

A whistle shrieked. The referee called a foul, declaring a free trial for goal. William, a new student, stepped to the free throw line. He rarely missed, often giving us an edge.

Play resumed. With little to do on the bench, my gaze roamed the room, and my heart swelled. Despite the fact that we were no longer promising to buy war bonds with the price of admission, or that a new gym would be built if the team delivered an undefeated season, the town of Dunn had embraced basketball like a lover back from war. The stands were packed, and the school board had been besieged with requests to see the plan
for the new gymnasium, folks wanting it to be a structure that rivaled the best the state of Oklahoma currently had to offer.

Brian Giles smiled at me from the bleachers, Bitsy nestled beneath his arm, a small bulge showing at her belly. He'd been sent home with a limp in the summer of 1918, not long after Chet shipped out for Europe. He'd married Bitsy a month later, and when the school year began, he'd resumed coaching the girls' basketball team.

I'd tried to insist he take the boys' program instead, but he and Principal Gray wouldn't hear of it.
“You're the
one the boys want,”
they both told me.

I leaned back against the wall and sighed at the sight of Bo and JC sitting together, both intent on the game and comfortable with each other. With a bit of cajoling, Bo had managed to stay at Fort Sill to train troops rather than march into France with them.

A flash of khaki in the crowd quickened my pulse and pulled me from my repose. Then I remembered Chet wouldn't come home in uniform. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. His company would arrive in the States soon. He'd be cashed out and on his way home.
“
I won't take the time to write,”
he'd told me.
“I just want to get on my
way.”

My lips twitched in amusement as the boys executed the play Blaze had devised—a fake to the right wing while the left wing ran beneath the basket, took the ball, and shot.

Two more points. A comfortable lead.

Chet wanted to surprise me with the moment of his homecoming. But I had a surprise for him, too. A letter beneath my pillow at Jewel's house. From Professor Clayton. Assuring me there would be a place in post-graduate studies for both me and my husband.

So many dreams Chet and I had disclosed in letters. The small stipend left in Daddy's will for my wedding day gave us options we wouldn't otherwise have had. Dreams for us both that would have made Daddy smile—and that felt like the right answer to me, too. If only Chet would get home.

Gerald stood in the center of the court, opposite the other team's center, both of them with one hand behind their back. The ball flew into the air. Then the whistle, signaling them to jump. A grunt and a slap, the ball in Felix's hands once more.

The timekeeper put the whistle in his mouth, eyes on his timepiece. Another season almost over. I'd so wanted Chet to see them play at least once.

The referee signaled the end of the game. I rose from the bench, turned.

Nannie rushed across the court as the boys shook hands. “Blaze gets leave in two weeks!” She shook a paper in front of my face. I laughed, hugged her, and wished I was as sure when Chet would arrive.

The boys gathered round. I'd grown used to the after-game odor now. The smell of a job well done. A goal accomplished.

“I'm pleased with our season, boys, though I had hoped—”

Ten pairs of eyes stared over my head. I twisted. My heart leapt into my throat.

“Nice evening to take in a basketball game.” Chet, hands in his pockets, rocking up on his toes, a grin stretched across his handsome face. I searched for any sign of illness, of injury, but he looked much as he had when he'd boarded the train all those months ago. Only the shadows under his eyes were new. I hoped they'd be cured by sleep.

Peace drifted down like a late-spring snow, cooling my soul. At least until Chet's hand captured mine.

“Aren't you happy to see me, Fruity Lu?”

The name that had once so riled me now brought a sweet thrill. He trailed his thumb across my cheek. Fire blazed a trail over my skin and through my heart, then smoldered back at me in his eyes.

A long-forgotten voice rose from my memory.
“Couldn't you find a man who would have
you, Miss Bowman?”

I smiled, rested my head on Chet's chest. Broader now. Stronger. His arms wrapped around me, pulled me close.

No, Mr. Graham. I couldn't find
a man. But I came to find my hope in
God, and He gave me someone exponentially greater than anything
I'd ever imagined.

“Let's go home, Mr. Vaughn.” I curled my hand around his arm and started for the door. “We have a wedding to plan.”

What a fun book to write! The kernel of this story started as bits of two stories, one from each of my grandmothers. One grandmother, upon taking a teaching job at a high school, was also put in charge of the girls' basketball team even though she knew little to nothing about basketball! (This is also my grandmother whose nickname was, indeed, Fruity Lu!) The other grandmother told me the story of the girls playing a game of basketball with pins in their shoes to stick the other team! Combine that history with a long line of teachers behind me, years of sitting on bleachers watching games, and a son who hopes to coach basketball, and a story appeared. Interestingly enough, another story thread also runs in my family: My youngest son is an accomplished pianist.

As with each book, there are many who have contributed to the final product. My amazing editors at Bethany House get tons of credit for seeing flaws in the story and characters that I couldn't see. Their suggestions make the story stronger every single time. And then there is the rest of the staff at Bethany
House—art, marketing, and everyone in between. I am so very grateful for your time and attention to this project and your kindness to me.

As usual, I have had a team of pray-ers to get me through long days of researching, writing, and revising. Thank you, Jeff, Elizabeth, Aaron, Nathan, Ann, Don, Debra, Kirby, Dan, Jennifer, Dawn, Billy, Robin, Bill, Mary D., Leslie, Andrea, Jana, Becky B., Becky H., Cheryl, Cherryl, Jill, and Mary L. Your sacrifice of time on my behalf is a gift I am humbled to receive.

Thank you to Life Sentence: Mary DeMuth and Leslie Wilson. You continually encourage me to make my stories better. You are awesome editors!

To my kids, who put up with me and my frenzy of work—thank you! You are all amazing young adults. I love being your mom even more than being an author. And of course to my sweet husband, who supports and encourages and puts up with my craziness (and a dirty house and unimaginative dinners!). Every day I think I can't love you any more than I do, but then the next day, that love grows deeper.

Finally, as always, the glory goes to God and God alone. Without Him, I have nothing good in me to pour onto a page. I am so grateful for the work He started in me so many years ago and that He is faithful to see it through to completion. I continue to be humbled and amazed.