Color the Sidewalk for Me (35 page)

“She doesn't understand a lot of things.” Instantly I felt a stab of guilt. Here was Granddad sick and
crying,
for gracious' sake, and I was stewing about my own problems.

“Missy, you keep prayin' for her. She needs to learn to forgive and let go a the past, for her own sake. Her bitterness is squeezin' her soul. I pray she'll finally see that, even if it's after I'm gone.”

“You're not goin' anywhere.”

“I'm dyin'.”

“No, you're not. You're too mean.”

He smiled feebly. “I done made a decision. I waited as long as I could, hopin' things'd change. And I prayed and prayed, askin' the Lord's guidance. Now I believe I got his answer, and I'm gonna carry it out, harsh as it may seem.”

Pressing my hand against his withered skin, I asked him what it was.

“You'll know soon enough. Just remember the one thing I always taught you.”

“Choose your battles carefully,” I recited, “then fight like Michael.”

“Yep. And you're goin' to have some battles, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, Granddad, I already do.”

“Guess so.” He fell silent for a moment. “Now there's a few items you got to take care of for me.”

He told me three things.

First, there was George Quince from Albertsville, who had been Granddad's lawyer for years. When Granddad sold the sawmill, Mr. Quince had drawn up the papers. Now, Granddad said, he had to meet with the man about his will.

I'd never even thought about Granddad's having a will.

My conversation with Granddad was on a Tuesday night in early March. Wednesday morning I called Mr. Quince before leaving for school. When I arrived home that afternoon, he and Granddad were behind closed doors until almost supper time. Mama accosted me with questions; Granddad had made his will years ago, she breathed; what was he doing? It was the first time she'd talked to me in days. I had no idea, I said with a shrug.

“Leave it alone, Estelle,” Daddy commanded, surprising us. “It's his business.”

Second, incredibly, there was Danny, whom Granddad was summoning to his bedside. I shouldn't pick him up myself; that would be going too far, Granddad had said. Mama was going to have a fit as it was. If Danny couldn't drive over himself, Daddy could fetch him. I told Danny Granddad's request at school. Wide-eyed, he promised to come after chores that evening, around eight.

Granddad must have prayed mighty hard over the decision to see Danny. He knew it would not only anger Mama but hurt her as well, for she would see his action as an alignment of forces against her. But Granddad had insisted it was important. At his suggestion we waited to tell Mama until just before Danny drove over. Her face blanched. “I'll not have it,” she stated angrily, “my father goin' against me in my own house.”

Daddy held up both hands. “He's not askin' for much, Estelle; how can you deny him? He may not be with us much longer.”

“Not askin' for much! He's askin' for
everything,
makin' a statement to our daughter right in front of us; can't you see that?”

Daddy's voice was dead quiet. “I see lots of things. And I say Danny's comin'.”

Kevy's mouth formed a perfect, round O as he slid his eyes toward me. Watching Daddy stand with his legs apart, hands low on his hips, I had the feeling he was enjoying himself, Granddad's request an excuse to pump up his courage. And the way he'd said yes to Granddad so easily made me think he was secretly happy Danny had been invited.

“William, he cannot come here! We can't allow it!”

“Yes, we can. We will.”

“No!” Mama flung out an arm toward me. “She defies me enough already. Don't you understand what this will do?”

“Estelle, your father wants a visitor. And I'm goin' to see that he gets it.”

Face crumpling, Mama fled to her room, slamming the door behind her. Kevy started to cry. I couldn't hide my vindictiveness.

“Celia,” Daddy commanded. “Don't.”

Mama didn't come out of her room all evening. When Danny arrived, he solemnly shook hands with Daddy, offered me a brief smile, and hugged Kevy. “What's the matter, Kevin?” he asked, seeing my brother's red eyes.

“Mama and Daddy were fightin'.”

The candidness of youth. I could have kicked Kevy, watching the hurt cross Danny's face. “It'll be all right,” he soothed, tousling Kevy's hair. “Your mama's just sad right now, with her daddy bein' sick 'n' all.”

I could have cried, too, hearing him defend Mama like that. As if she deserved it.

Excusing himself, Danny walked down the hall to Granddad's room. I heard their exchanged greetings; then the door closed.

Daddy pulled Kevy down on the couch to watch TV, a rare treat on a school night. Listlessly I wandered to my room, studying the ocean scenes that lined my walls. Emotions tumbled through me like clothes in a dryer. How I had longed to see Danny once again in my home. How wonderful it was to see him shake Daddy's hand, to hear Granddad greet him warmly. But the circumstances under which he'd been invited were so great a price to pay. “Oh, Granddad,” I whispered, running a finger over a blurring picture, “please don't die. Who's goin' to stand up for me when you're gone?”

Over half an hour passed before I heard the click of Granddad's door. I jumped from my bed to meet Danny in the hall. “What happened?” I whispered.

His eyes misted. “You're granddad's a great man. I'll be in his debt forever.”

“What did he say?”

Danny dared to take my hands. “He blessed our bein' together, Celia. Your mama never will, he said, and your daddy may not have the courage. So he did it. After making me pledge before God that we'd get through school first and that I'd take care a you. He said it won't be easy. But, he said, you got to choose your battles.”

After Danny left, I tiptoed inside Granddad's room. “Hello, missy,” he mumbled.

I adjusted the covers over his bony shoulders. “Granddad, thank you.”

He managed a smile. “I'm kinda tired; it's been a long day. Think I'll take a snooze.”

As I planted a lingering kiss on his forehead, he fell asleep.

For the next four days Granddad had constant visitors pulling a chair to his bedside, quietly reminiscing. Mr. and Mrs. B. came, as did Hank Jenkins and Mr. Tull, the Clangerlees, the Frasiers, the Taylors and Hardings. It was as if they all knew.

“Miss Jessie.” I caught her arm Saturday morning after she and Mr. Harding had taken leave of my weary granddad. Mrs. B. was watching the Harding kids, Miss Jessie not wanting to ask me to do it. “Has Lee's great uncle found a job for Danny yet?”

She gave me a curious look. “Hasn't he said anything?”

Fear gathered in my chest. “We haven't had much time to talk,” I replied lightly.

“Of course. Well, I'll let him tell you.”

I opened my mouth to press her but promptly shut it again. She was right—Danny should tell me. And it was true that we hadn't had much time to talk. All the same, I couldn't help feeling that he was purposely keeping it from me.

Sunday afternoon Jake Lewellyn visited. I asked if the men wanted to play checkers, but Granddad was too tired. “We'll just set a spell, missy,” he answered, eyelids drooping. I should have left them alone, but something made me stay, sitting on the floor against his dresser, hugging my knees.

“Thomas,” Mr. Lewellyn declared, “I never thought I'd see the day you'd be too tired to beat me at checkers.”

Granddad snorted softly. “Finally admittin' I beat you, are ya?”

“You beat me at a lot a things in your day.”

“Don't forget Jake's Rock. You made me serenade that ugly girl.”

“You always said I cheated at that one.”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

They were silent for a moment. I could hear the air sucking in and out of Granddad's lungs. “Well, Jake”—his voice sounded so tired—“looks like you done beat me for good this time.”

“No sir,” Mr. Lewellyn replied gruffly, “you ain't gonna die yet, if that's what you're thinkin'. So don't go talking about it and gittin' my hopes up.”

“Jake Lewellyn, you always were a mean ol' coot.”

“And you're a thief and a liar.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So what?”

“So I still got your marble.”

Granddad fought his way to a wicked grin.

During lunch Monday Daddy phoned the school, asking Kevy and me to come home. I received the message just as I was sitting down across from Danny, preparing to ask him about the job in Miami. My stomach turned to stone. Danny looked at me with sadness in his eyes. “Try to call me tonight,” he said. “I want to know.”

I nodded.

Daddy had stayed home from work. When Kevy and I flew into the house, we found him and Mama at Granddad's bedside. “Here they are, Thomas,” he said.

I pulled a trembling Kevy across the worn carpet. “Hi, Granddad.” The covers barely moved over his chest. One hand lay tucked underneath them. I reached for his other hand, which was resting on his stomach, and was shocked by its coldness. “Here, put it under the blanket,” I urged, dropping to my knees.

“Don't matter.” His voice was a grated whisper. “Cain't feel it anyway.” He swallowed carefully. “Missy, don't forget now what I tol' you. And never take your eyes off the Lord.”

My throat closed. “No sir, I never will.”

“Kevin.”

My brother shot me a terrified look, then eased next to me. “Yes sir.” “You're a wonderful boy. Sweet and generous, like your mama at your age.”

Mama, sweet and generous? Granddad was too sick to know what he was saying.

“Take
care a your mama,
Kevin, hear?”

“I will.”

He does know what he's saying,
I thought. He knows I'll be gone.

“I love you, Estelle. My pretty daughter.”

Mama sobbed quietly. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

“Granddad,” I blurted,
“don't.
Choose your battles. You can win this one.”

His fingers rose slightly off the blanket, then sank again. “No, missy. I'm too tired.”

That afternoon time swirled in cycles, Granddad mumbling, then sleeping as I stroked his forehead, Mama fetching him water. Daddy sat in a chair near the end of the bed, holding Granddad's thin ankle through the covers. “Thomas, you just rest,” he soothed. “Every hero needs his rest.”

Mama squeezed her eyes shut but said nothing.

“William,” Granddad whispered, “I been so proud to have you in the family. You been a good husband for my girl.”

To my horror Daddy's face crumpled. I froze in my chair, watching him cry for the first time in my life, until compassion overcame my disbelief. Rising, I held him lightly by the shoulders. Mama never moved. Over the next few hours the phone rang occasionally. No one answered it. Kevy sat against the wall, legs splayed, rising again and again to comfort Mama and me at first sight of our tears. I wiped his away. Mostly we kept vigil silently, waiting, knowing in our heads what would follow, while our hearts staunchly denied it. Around four o'clock Granddad fell asleep again, the barest whistle of air from his open mouth affording us reason to hope. None of us spoke.