Color the Sidewalk for Me (29 page)
“No. The soda fountain's gone, so it's not the hangout it used to be. No more booths inside, either. See across the street, where the doctor's office was? That's now a little restaurant. Can you believe it, Bradleyville with its own café. Tammy's. Folks meet there now.”
I could almost see Granddad and Jake Lewellyn and Hank Jenkins under that awning, sitting in their chairs. Could almost feel the graininess of the warm sidewalk beneath me as I sat listening to their stories and drinking my strawberry shakes. I swallowed hard, pressed back the images. “Let's go in, Miss Jessie. I want to see the marble.”
As soon as we entered the store, Mr. Tull flitted from behind his counter to give me an effusive hug. “Goodness, look who's here; I heard you were back in town!” He was plumper than before, his tufts of hair now gone, but surprisingly his movements were as quick as ever. He beamed at me, clasping his hands. “Came to see the old place, did ya? Well, it looks a bit different from your granddad's day, but I'll bet you remember that.” He pointed toward a custom frame next to the large front window.
Drawing close, I gazed at this “piece of glass” that held such significance for the town. The black and silver marble was now artfully suspended in its frame, a little above center.
“Oh, Granddad,” I whispered, “I miss you so much.”
“Look closer,” Mr. Tull encouraged. “Jake's will told us exactly what he wanted us to write.”
I leaned in to read the curving script. The words brought tears to my eyes.
Thomas,
We both won.
Jake
A
ll right, Daddy, last thing. Lift that leg up from the knee.” He sat in his wheelchair in the living room, working diligently. Mama had gone to church and I was glad for our time alone.
“Good!” I praised as his foot rose. “That's the highest you've done it yet!”
“Yup.” He grinned at me, and I noticed that the left side of his mouth worked better.
“This is wonderful. See, I told you! We just have to keep at it and suddenly things start to work. You're gonna be running around the house before we know it.” I rubbed his cheek affectionately. “Let's do your speech; then we're done. Got your writing stuff for later?”
While downtown with Miss Jessie the previous day, I'd stopped by the dime store and bought a clipboard, some yellow pads of paper, and a small cloth tote bag. Attaching the paper to the clipboard and tying on a pen, I'd placed the whole thing in the bag, which was hanging on the right side of his chair for easy access.
“Yup.”
“Good. Okay then, let's get to it. Say âbell.'”
“Bvvell.”
“Okay, let's try to keep that b. Make those lips go together.”
We practiced various words and sounds for about fifteen minutes. Just as we were finishing, Daddy pointed toward the porch. “Ceela. Daar.”
I peered out the window through the sheer curtains. “Oh, it's Dr. Forkes.” Surprised, I hurried to open the screen door, running fingers through my hair.
“Hi, Celia.”
He smiled at me, eyes lingering, black bag in hand. The coat of his dark Sunday suit was unbuttoned, showing a starched white shirt. I invited him in. “And just why aren't you in church?” I demanded.
“I got paged by another patient.” Taking off his coat, he placed it over the back of the couch. “Hi, William. Came to check on you while I was out and about. How are you feeling?” He extracted a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from his bag.
“Kaaa. Fiine.”
“That's good. Let me just listen to your heart now; you know the routine.”
“Want something to drink, John?” It was the first time I'd called him by his given name, and he glanced at me. I waited as he moved the stethoscope across Daddy's chest.
“Iced tea would be great,” he said, straightening.
I returned with the drink as he finished the examination. “You're looking good, William,” he told Daddy, putting his instruments away. “Still taking your medication every day?”
“Yaaa.”
“And doing the therapy, I see. She's making you work?”
“Shee tufff.”
“Well, the tougher she is, the better you'll be.”
“Uh-huh.”
John and I laughed at Daddy's sarcasm.
The doctor closed his bag and accepted the glass of tea from me, our fingers touching. “Am I interrupting one of your sessions?”
“Not really. We were just finishing up.” He gazed at me and I looked away. “Daddy, what would you like to do now? Are you tired?”
“Naaa.” He thought for a minute. “Paaor.” His chin pointed toward the porch.
“You sure you want to sit out there by yourself?” He nodded. “Okay. It is a pretty day.” I leaned down to unlock the brakes of the wheelchair. John moved to hold the door open for us. “I'd like to take him for walks in his chair,” I mentioned as I pushed Daddy through, “but I haven't had the nerve yet to try getting him down the porch steps. There were no stairs at the nursing home where I volunteered. Maybe I'll practice with an empty chair and then put Mama in it, if she's willing to risk her neck.”
“You're a very determined person, aren't you?” He bent down to reset the brakes.
“Sometimes.”
We made sure Daddy was comfortable, then returned inside to sit at the dining table, John remarking that he'd just finish his tea and be on his way. I sensed the comment was more for Daddy's ears than mine.
“How's he doing?” he asked quietly after we settled ourselves.
“Good. He's progressing slowly but well.”
“And how are you handling it?”
“Fine.”
He regarded me for a moment, as if wondering whether or not to speak what was on his mind. “I heard you saw the town yesterday. I imagine it brought back a lot of memories.”
The gossip mill once more. Plus he was getting personal again. Annoyance compressed my lips. “You know, this really isn't fair. You probably know all about me and I know nothing about you. I don't like that. I came here to help Daddy, not to answer your questions or anyone else's.”
He held up both hands. “Whoa, okay, okay! I know when I've been slapped.”
“Well,” I said half grudgingly, “I wouldn't go quite that far.”
“Glad to hear it.” He reached for his iced tea. “Let me play doctor for a moment, if I may. You promised me you'd hang in there as long as William needed you. His spirits are so much better now that you're here, and even if the therapy is slow, at least he's working at it. That's because you're the one who's pushing him; it's obvious he'll do anything to be close to you. So what I'm getting at is, I hope you don't get upset at Bradleyville and leave before he's ready.”
My defenses rose. “I told you I would stay till the end! And I promised
him that.
Nothing will make me leave; you have no reason to doubt me. I've been working with him twice a day, whether I felt like it or not. Not once have I let a therapy session slide.” I stopped, put a hand to my face. “Good grief,” I said with a sigh, “it's enough that I argue with Mama; I don't want to argue with you too.”
“Then don't.” He almost smiled.
“Well. You started it.”
“Maybe I did. Okay, I did. Now let's both stop.”
I assumed an air of petulance. “Fine then.”
“I do understand what you're talking about, though, Celia,” he said after a moment. “This is a great place to live, with wonderful people, but it is true that some of them tend to breathe down your neck. That's typical for a small town. I'm pretty sensitive to it myself, after having lived somewhere else. Being the small-town doctor is a two-headed beast, you know. On one side you're revered, but on the other you're watched all the more closely because their lives are in your hands.”
A bead of moisture ran slowly down his glass. “Why did you come back?” I asked.
His face softened. “I wanted to be near family after my wife died.”
“I was sorry to hear about her; it must have been very hard.” I hesitated. “You're engaged now, I hear.”
“Yes.”
For some reason the mention of his fiancée seemed uncomfortable for us both.
He gazed out the window, watching Daddy wave to a car. Church must have let out. “Sharon's a wonderful woman,” he said slowly. “We're getting married in December. But you've probably heard our plans in detail.” He gave a light shrug. “Gossip, you know. The nectar of Bradleyville.”
“Actually, I haven't. I haven't heard anything about you.” I watched him finger his glass.
“How about that. And I thought I was so interesting.”
I smiled but did not look up. The air around us glistened.
“Is my glass that intriguing?” he said, breaking the silence.
I forced my eyes to him. “No.” Ages ago Danny and I had faced each other like this, a few feet between us, worlds apart. I couldn't think of a thing to say.
Lifting his hand from the glass, John placed it on mine lightly. I felt the icy coolness of his skin. “You're doing a great job with your dad,” he said, his eyes warm. “I know he's glad you came. So am I.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled his hand away. “Well. I'd better be going.”
I nodded.
“Your daddy looks content out there,” he remarked, pushing back the chair.
I was still feeling his hand on mine.
“I'll check him again on Tuesday.”
I walked John to the porch, standing by Daddy as he strode down our sidewalk. Watching him drive off, waving, I pictured the tremulous wings of a moth drawn to flame and understood its fascination.
Blinking hard, I forced the thoughts away. Had I not caused enough heartbreak in Bradleyville? Had my own heart not been broken enough? Sudden fear surged through me. The things that could happen if I stayed . . .
I got to git outta this town.
Danny's words from years ago sounded in my ears.
“You still want to stay out here?” I asked Daddy.
“Yaaa.”
“Okay.”
I reentered the house, the movie screen in my head unrolling itself, beginning to play its pictures. The scene of Danny leaning against a tree on that day years ago when I began to lose him . . .
W
e were leaning against one of our oak trees down by the river in July when Danny blurted, “Celia, I got to git outta this town.”
I turned toward him in hurt surprise. “What do you mean?”
“We're not makin' itâMama and me and Daddy. The farm ain't hardly payin' for itself. Mama and me's doing all the work; Daddy's doing nothin' but drinking.”
“I know.”
He bit his lip. “You don't really know, Celia. All you do is hear it. But my mama's livin' it. I'm livin' it. And we can't take much more.”
“Well, what are you goin' to do?” My voice tinged with accusation at the mere thought that he would leave me.
He shook his head. “For now, nothin'. Summer's halfway through. When school starts up again, I got one more year; then I'm out.”
“You can work at the mill after you graduate, like we talked about.”
“I can't, Celia.” He pleaded with his eyes for understanding. “I can't work at the mill full-time and care for the farm, too; there ain't that much time in the day. The farm's struggling so much, I can't even keep up with it working all day this summer. If I worked at the mill, I'd earn money, but the farm would really fall apart and we'd have no place to live. If I just keep carin' for the farm, we'll never git anywhere. And then there's Daddy. Most nights I barely sleep. I lie in bed with my muscles stiff, ready to jump up if he starts hurtin' Mama. And she cries all the time. I got you but there's nothin' here for her.”
I stared sightlessly across the river. I knew that life in Bradleyville was becoming harder and harder for him and his mama. Lately Anthony Cander was always drinking, even on weekdays. On weekends he'd drive his beat-up truck to Albertsville bars and not return home until all hours of the night.
“Listen, Celia, I ain't talkin' about leaving you. I love you with all my heart. What I'm talkin' about is making a life for myself. I don't know how things'll turn out after I graduate, but I need to find a way to take Mama away from here, away from Daddy. You're only a year behind me in school. We wouldn't have to be apart for very long.”
A year without Danny was a lifetime. I lowered my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears that stung them. I respected him for putting his mama first. Wouldn't I do the same for Granddad or Kevy or Daddy? But the thought of staying in Bradleyville without him sent ice through my veins. “Where would you go?”
“I don't know. And I don't know how I'd manage it, either; it may never happen.” His tone was tinged with bitterness. “But I been talkin' to Cousin Lee and Miss Jessie. Lee's got a great aunt and uncle that's kept in touch ever since they moved away. He was thinkin' maybe they could help.”