Touchdown (16 page)

Goldie was about to respond when Clay shushed her. “I can't think straight when you keep yammering in my head,” he said.

“So what do you want me to do?”

Clay sighed. “Stop talking? At least for a while?”

When the sounds of the forest finally replaced Goldie's voice, Clay sat down in the woods and collected his thoughts. And then he promptly dialed the first number he had on speed dial.

“Leigh?” he said. “Could you help me out? I need you.”

“Charlie?” Goldie called. “Where are you?” When he didn't answer, she started to panic. Besides Clay, who had drifted off, she was alone in the forest. The universe . . .

“Charlie?” she called again. “Are you here?”

He appeared. “It's all right. I'm here. So, princess, what can I do for you now?”

Goldie stared at him. “I can't take this boredom.”

“Is that right?” Charlie smiled and adjusted Goldie's necklace. “And you called me to tell me this, why?”

“I guess I just wanted to see how you are doing?”

Charlie grinned.

Goldie looked into his eyes. She felt so connected to him, but there was no way she would let herself be vulnerable and let him know that. “We danced. In my dream about you, we danced.”

“Aha, we danced in your dreams, but I shouldn't be getting any ideas.”

“That's right,” she said, and smiled back at Charlie. “No ideas. None. Why, I barely even like you.”

Charlie laughed. “You protest too much. Or am I distracting you from pining away for Avner?”

“I'm pining, all right.” Goldie smirked. “But can't dybbuks do anything for fun?”

“Hmm,” he said, and looked her up and down with fresh eyes. “I suppose . . . ”

“I mean, we can't shop—ugh. And even if we could I wouldn't fit into any good shoes with this guy's feet—”

“Goldie, you do realize that my role does not require me to be your entertainer or tour guide?”

“But being attached to him feels like prison. And it takes so much effort to get him to go my way. Can't I go anywhere I find interesting? Do anything? Can't you take me to see Mindy and Avner again?”

Charlie sighed. “Still obsessed with your lover boy?”

“Well, I can't go anywhere without your help. Can you take me to visit my sister?”

Charlie shrugged. “All right. But if you see something you don't like, don't say I didn't warn you.”

Instantly, they were back in Goldie's huge walk-in closet on Long Island. “Oh! My shoes!” Goldie winced, and tried to touch a few pairs, but she couldn't feel their physicality.

“Oh, this does hurt.” She sighed.

Charlie wagged his finger at her. “I told you—”

“Don't say it.” Goldie shook her head.

Suddenly, Mindy walked into the closet carrying a massive, empty cardboard box. “How many pairs left?” she called out.

Avner came into the closet with his clipboard. “I think we have thirty-two more pairs to go.”

Mindy sighed. “This is really tiring. I thought we'd be done hours ago.”

“Me too.” Avner nodded. “Maybe we need a break?”

Mindy shrugged. “Great idea. Are you up for hot cocoa?”

Avner smiled. “That would be awesome.” He followed her down the winding circular stairs of Mindy's father's mansion.

In the kitchen, Mindy whipped up hot milk and Avner helped her pour in melted chocolate.

They drank together quietly, the silence only broken by the sound of Avner's phone. He glanced at the number and didn't pick up.

“Let me guess—Chumie's calling you again?” Mindy asked.

“I've timed it to every five minutes.” Avner nodded. “She doesn't leave me alone.”

Mindy raised her eyebrows. “And this is normal how?”

Avner shrugged. “Her constant badgering is driving me crazy.”

Mindy stared at him. “Please don't mind my intrusion—but if you find her irritating, why are you planning to marry her?”

Avner shrugged, seemingly confused. “I really don't know.”

Mindy shook her head. “You don't have to, you know.”

Avner stared at Mindy. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Mindy's eyes widened. “Oh. Is she pregnant?”

“Huh?”

“I mean . . . do you have to marry her?”

Avner shook his head. “No . . . Not, it's not that . . . ”

Mindy continued to drink her hot cocoa. “You know, all this time working with you to give away Goldie's things . . . I feel like I've been getting to know you, and—”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. His phone rang again and he silenced it. “It's been sad going through all of Goldie's things, but in its own way . . . it's healing spending time with you.”

Mindy nodded. “So . . . maybe getting engaged to Chumie,” she said hesitantly, “Is a bit hasty? I mean, maybe you're just reacting to Goldie's—”

Avner's phone rang again, and this time, the doorbell rang, too.

Mindy went to get it.

Chumie stood at the door, one hand on the bell, the other on her phone. “Avner. It's time to go. Now,” she said, and stared into his eyes.

“Yes, dear,” he said, and, like a man with no thoughts of his own, dutifully followed his fiancée outside.

Chumie turned to Mindy. “You've been keeping him here quite a long time,” she said in a stern voice.

Mindy shrugged. “There were a lot of shoes to go through.”

Chumie turned on her heels and slammed the door behind her.

Mindy watched them leave, and then sat down alone in the kitchen. “I miss you, Goldie,” she whispered.

“I miss you, too,” Goldie said, and felt sad that she was powerless to make her sister happy. “Charlie, take me away from here. I think I'd rather be dreaming.”

• • •

Goldie closed her eyes. But instead of waking up in Clay, she found herself in another time and place.

“Charlie? Did you find my earring?” she heard herself say. I must be dreaming again, she thought. She looked around her room. It had wallpaper and antiques—although all the antiques looked relatively new. Even an old fashioned record player from the 1940s seemed only a few years old. A sad, slow song played, though it had a static-y sound to it—certainly not as clear as her MP3s. She picked up a silver hand mirror and gazed at her reflection. The woman who looked back had the same eyes as Goldie, though her features were rounder, softer, her hair auburn, and Goldie sensed the woman was taller.

Charlie appeared in the doorway. Instead of his white suit he wore an army uniform—or was it the Air Force? But the uniform looked retro . . . Goldie had seen enough old movies to guess that he was dressed as a pilot during World War II. This dream seemed so familiar, as if it happened before . . .

Charlie held out his hand and showed her an earring. “It was under the bed, like I thought,” he said. He sauntered up to her and Goldie felt her heart beat rapidly as Charlie fastened the earring on her ear. She could smell the soap from his freshly washed uniform mixed with his own sweat—he smelled like Charlie, her Charlie. His closeness made her feel warm, protected . . . safe.

“Any chance they'll extend your furlough?” she heard herself say.

Charlie grinned, sadly, and brushed her hair behind her hair. “You know I wish I could stay . . . ”

Goldie found tears dripping down her cheeks. “I don't know how I'll live without you.”

Charlie held her close and Goldie felt like she would burst with sadness, yet also felt so . . . loved. She had never, ever felt that connection before in her life.

Charlie placed one hand on the small of her back and gently swayed with her to the sound of the music. “It's my duty,” he said softly. “You know I must go.”

“But what if—”

“Shh, don't say it,” he said and placed his finger on her lips.

She started to cry and he did, too. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too, Charlie,” she responded. “But—”

“No buts. Lets get married. Now.”

“Okay.” Goldie nodded and held Charlie's hand as they danced together to the song.

Charlie stared at her. “I don't want you to be afraid.”

“I won't,” she said. “I'll be brave. I'll be right here waiting for you to come home.” She held him close. “Forever.”

“Forever's not so long,” he said, and leaned in, embracing her with a kiss.

“Hey, Clay? Are you here?” Leigh shone her flashlight by the intersection where Clay had asked her to meet him.

“Hey,” Clay said as he went up to his friend. “I thought you'd never come.”

“Really?” Leigh stared at him. “You thought I'd leave you to get through this mess alone?”

Clay jumped in her car and gave Leigh a bear hug. “No, Leigh, I guess not. I never doubted you for a minute.”

“So where to?”

Clay shrugged. “Cops could be after me, so we have to lay low.”

Leigh laughed. “Can't go back home. Your own dad would turn you in.”

“How about we go to Stone Mountain?” Clay nodded in the direction of the national landmark. “I really need to sort out what's going on with that allegation before I dare show my face in public.”

Leigh looked at Clay. “You're right on that. Everybody's talking about what you did. Maybe you should turn yourself in and work it out?”

Clay shook his head. “I don't know how to prove I didn't do it. And if they put me in jail then my career is over before it even began.”

Leigh agreed. “But you'll have to take care of this. You can't run forever.”

Clay exhaled. “I know. And I will. I just promised a friend something—”

“Who? A friend from the team?”

“No . . . Someone else.”

When they arrived at the parking area on the mountain, Clay got out of the car and took a deep breath. He stared silently ahead, trying to collect his thoughts.

Clay said nothing as he and Leigh stepped onto the gravel. The stillness made Clay nervous, but these days, a lot of things did. How could he have fumbled the play? And run from a cop?

Clay observed the giant dark mountain that loomed over him. He felt like an ant. A skittering ant that deserved to be crushed by a big muddy boot.

They walked towards the laser show field. The normally friendly tourist shops seemed to leer at Clay as he passed. He felt unease in this place, an unusual sensation. He had fond memories of visiting the glass blowing shop as a child. He remembered when he had pressed his face to the clear divider and watched in awe as the grizzled man shaped the molten glass into a seashell. It had lemon and blue swirls and sparkled in the lights. He'd tugged on his father's shirt wanting one, as proof that something so awesome could be created. But his dad had said no and wouldn't pay for it, insisting it was “overpriced worthless fairy trinkets,” and “why would a boy want one of those to begin with?”

Clay frowned. Well, maybe not such fond memories.

“Are you doing okay?” Leigh finally asked him.

Clay shrugged. “I'm tired, that's all.” The eerie breeze rustled the wind chimes and the moonlight cast an unearthly glow to the shop windows.

They continued hiking until they arrived at the vast field, where they sat down with a thump.

“Do you want to talk about what's been going on?” Leigh asked.

“I don't know where to begin,” Clay said, and stared up at the Civil War confederate leaders, carved out of the mountain, like a southern Mount Rushmore.

Leigh leaned back, beside him. “I know you've been going through a rough time with the games and . . . ”

Clay shook his head. “It isn't that. I don't think so, anyway.”

Clay stared at the chiseled portraits on the mountain. Their angled faces were cut with shadow and their piercing eyes glared down at him. He leaned back on the meadow beside Leigh and stared up at the stars. The sprinkling of lights in the night sky seemed to go on forever. The universe was so mighty, and he felt so messed up, so alone.

Except for Leigh. She was the only person in the universe that took away the loneliness, and with her, he felt good. She always brought out the best in him and he never quite acknowledged that. How could he? He was always busy with the team and whatever it took to get ahead. No way he could he ever date a “grease monkey.” It hadn't fit into his group. Hadn't mixed well into his life.

“Clay, I'm here for you,” Leigh said simply.

“I know. You're the only one who ever was.” Her ponytail had come loose and Clay glanced at her as the moonlight cast a soft shadow on her face. “You look pretty with your hair down like that,” he said.

Leigh swallowed. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because you do.”

“I thought only cheerleaders and sorority girls could be pretty,” Leigh said and quickly looked away.

“There are all kinds of beauty,” Clay said. “Anyway, it's over between us. Carolyn and I are just friends.”

“Really?” Leigh stared at Clay.

Clay shrugged. “She was only with me because I was the quarterback. Now, I don't know what's happening with my football career, so . . . ”

Leigh shrugged. “I get it.”

Clay sat up. “Leigh, I was wondering—would you ever want to, uh—”

Leigh nodded. “Want to what, Clay?”

“I mean, could you ever . . . you know . . . date me?”

Leigh raised her eyebrows. “Cause you broke up with Carolyn and you messed up with your team . . . so now you're a loser like me?”

Clay swallowed. “No, I didn't mean it like that.”

“Sure you didn't.” Leigh stood up. “If you called me out here just to—”

Clay jumped up beside her. “Leigh! It's not like that—”

“All these years I've hoped for this day, I've wished you'd tell me that you cared about me like that. And now I'm just leftovers? Everybody thinks the hero's a moron so now it's time to date good ole dependable Leigh?”