Color the Sidewalk for Me (50 page)

He blew out air. “This is all so easy for you to say, Celia,” he accused with frustration. “I don't want to tell my fiancée; you don't know how awful that would be!”

God, I cried, where are you?
Who am Ito judge him?
“No, I guess I don't. But will cheating on her make you feel any less awful?”

He shook his head, deflated, hurt. “I can't bring myself to let you go.”

I can't either, I thought, feeling the pull of him, wanting to lean across the gearshift and throw my arms around him, saying forget what I've said, forget all of it, just hold me. Just take me into your cabin and kiss me, make me feel what I felt with Danny so many years ago. Let me lose myself in you; wash away my pain over him, give me another chance to love. I cried inside at these desires, and then I thought of my talk with Mama and all that God had shown me. I thought of his truths, the nuggets of gold I had discovered, and I imagined the shell of a person I would become if I buried them again. And I pictured the faces of Mama and Daddy should they discover my duplicity with John.

“You're making this so hard,” I whispered.

“I don't mean to,” he said softly. “And I admire you for everything you've said, really I do. But this afternoon could be so special, Celia.” He lifted my chin until our eyes met, and I understood his meaning. “I could so easily fall in love with you.”

“Don't, John,
don't,”
I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Don't promise me that; I've been without love too long.”

“You can have it again. Right here.”

“No, I can't.” The world grew blurry, a tear dropping onto my cheek. “I can't take what you're offering. I would be turning away from God again. He may never give me another chance. For years I've been in so much pain; I've got to straighten my life out. Please understand. If you care for me, you'll let me go!”

“Let me help you straighten your life out.” Now he was pleading, his voice hoarse. “I care about you; I want to have that chance.”

“It's not the right thing to do.”

“Our hearts make it right.”

“No, John.” A single sob burst from me. “Hearts don't make anything right! Hearts are greedy and selfish; at least mine is. I've followed my heart all my life and I can't do it anymore.” I drew in a ragged breath. “I'm begging you to understand. You're shooting arrows right through me.”

He exhaled loudly, putting his face in his hands. I waited in silence, unable to stop crying. A minute ticked by.

“Okay,” he said finally, raising his head. “All right. If this is what you want, I'll let you go. I don't know how I'm going to get out of this car, but I will.”

My chest felt like lead. “It's not what I want, John. It's what must be. At least for now.”

He shifted in his seat, letting his head fall back against the headrest. “Okay. That's it then. Okay, fine. Go.” He sat up again, resolve in his actions, and groped for the door handle. “I'll be here till about six,” he added. “If you should change your mind . . .” He managed a rueful smile.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Well. Good-bye, Celia. See you for sure on Tuesday.”

How would I ever face him in front of Mama and Daddy? How could I ever greet him as if nothing had happened?

“Bye.”

He hesitated, then firmly pushed the door open and got out. At that moment all the resolve I'd had drained away.

Please help me,
God, I begged silently.
I can't go through with it.

I swiped at my eyes, waffling. Then somehow, of its own accord, my hand reached out to start the engine. I told myself I would go only if John remained silent. All he had to do was say something, anything. Didn't he realize how little it would take at that moment for me to turn off the key? Just lean down, John, look at me through the window, tell me again you could love me. Tell me we'll work things out, tell me God wants us together today, and I'll believe you. Talk me out of this; I haven't the strength to leave, not really. I can't go through with it. One little move, John Forkes, just one.

He remained motionless.

My shoulders sagged. My left hand found the wheel. I put the car in reverse, backed onto the side of his driveway, and turned around. He had walked to his porch and was watching me, hands on his hips. I looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes finding mine, and my heart clutched with one final hope. He raised his fingers in a still wave. I couldn't tear my gaze away, even then willing him to move.

As I drove away, his image slowly faded into the dust.

chapter 58

I
n the next few days, somehow I found the strength to push Daddy in performing his exercises and talk more to Mama. All the while I ached for John.

Daddy could not contain his joy over the change between Mama and me. Had he been able, he would have leaped from his wheelchair and danced. As it was, I encouraged him to channel his energies into therapy, and he did just that, attacking his exercises with newfound vigor. Then on Tuesday afternoon he made his first basket into Mama's dresser drawer with the rubber ball.

“Aaah!” I yelled. Daddy let loose a bray that brought Mama at a run, fearfully demanding, “What happened, what happened?”

As fortune would have it, Daddy tried and tried to repeat it for her with no success, only to make another basket after she had left the room. “We'll have to see who can get to twenty points first!” I challenged, fetching the ball from the drawer with a flourish. “I'll use my left hand, too, just to be fair. We could even get a little wager going on the side. What do you think we should bet?”

“Appul pie.”

Daddy sat in a chair I had brought from the dining table. He rarely used the wheelchair anymore, except when Mama took him around the block. The previous day he had requested, after Mama pushed him back home, that I bring his walker outside, and he and she went slowly up and down our sidewalk.

I continued to pray for God's help but still thought of John constantly. Cars would pass on Minton and I'd find myself glancing through the curtains to see if it was he. Once I even looked up his office number, with a question about Daddy as an excuse to hear his voice. As Tuesday evening approached, I was filled with ambivalence over seeing him. I found myself eating supper quickly, saying I wanted to go to the dime store before it closed. I hurried out and ended up buying a few unnecessary items, lingering over each choice. Even then I was afraid to return too soon, and some masochistic hunger prompted me to drive to the field where Danny and I had parked the night before he left Bradleyville.

I got out of the car, gazing at the path that led to our fishing spot, picturing Danny sitting on a boulder, waiting for me. Hurting over John, filled with my age-old longing for Danny, I almost followed the path but knew I couldn't bear it. I climbed back in my car and turned down Wilder Road, slowing as I passed the Canders' old property, gaping at the large new house built by t
he current occupants. The farm was immaculate, fresh and green, cows dotting the pasture, a rich field newly planted. This is what Danny could have made it, I thought, had he stayed.

By the time I returned home, John had come and gone. “He said to tell you he was sorry he missed you,” Mama related. She looked at me curiously but did not ask where I had been.

Daddy continued to improve. Thursday at breakfast he spoke openly about returning to work. As he broached the subject, I glanced at Mama but she showed no sign of irritation. “I mentioned to your daddy about the computer and maybe doin' some work at home,” she said casually, buttering toast. “He thinks it's a good idea, if Mr. Sledge will agree to it. We talked about drivin' in next Tuesday to see him, if William continues to feel well.”

“Haa!” Daddy put in. “I feel graeet!”

I could only silently thank God.

We didn't speak of my leaving, although we were all thinking of it. With Daddy's new rate of improvement the day was fast approaching. I wanted to tell them that even when I returned to Little Rock, we would never be separated as we once were. I'd had estrangement enough for a lifetime. But I couldn't bring myself to mention it, for the thought of the quiet aloneness within my own little house filled me with despair. “Daddy, that's absolutely wonderful,” I exclaimed. “I'll drive you to Albertsville next Tuesday, if you like.”

“That's all right,” Mama responded. “I want to do it.”

“Okay.”

I calculated my time alone while they would be gone and thought of John.

Daddy and I were playing “twenty points” after supper when I heard Mama answer the phone. He had six points to my ten. To even the contest, I had placed myself farther away from the dresser. The game had been doing wonders for Daddy's strength and coordination.

“Eight!” he declared upon making another basket.

“Humph,” I said. “If you beat me, I'm gonna make you back up your chair.”

“Celia!” Mama called. “Telephone!”

I returned the ball to Daddy, hoping it was John. “Be right back.”

“It's Jessie,” Mama whispered, handing me the phone. I managed a smile.

Miss Jessie asked me where I had been Sunday. “Even your daddy was in church,” she chided.

“Oh, I was tired, that's all. Just needed some time by myself.”

“Well, I suppose you've earned that,” she said agreeably. “Anyway, I called to see if you would come to our house next Sunday after church for our family get-together. The kids still haven't seen you and neither has Lee, for that matter.”

“I'll be at church for sure,” I replied, knowing I did not dare stay home alone. “And I'd love to come to your house afterward.” All the same, the thought of seeing Mrs. B. did not thrill me.

“Great! I'll see you Sunday, then. And just in case you decide to sleep in, when your parents get home from church, you just head on over.”

“They're not coming?”

She hesitated. “Estelle's not sure William will be up to it after sittin' through one a Pastor's sermons, I guess.”

She laughed and I joined in, unconvinced. I wondered what was going on. “All right, I'll be there.”

“Good.” Her tone changed ever so slightly. “One last thing, Celia. I heard some more news about Danny and thought you might be interested.”

Electric current jolted through me. I braced myself. “Oh?” My voice was forced lightness.

“I got a letter from Patricia yesterday. She says he's finally thinkin' about settling down with this girl in Greece—Kathy's her name. He's flying to New York on Monday for business, and he told Patricia he planned to look for a ring.”

“That's great,” someone said, and I heard my own voice.

The line grew quiet.

“Celia?” Miss Jessie prompted. “Have I upset you? I thought you'd want to know.”

“I am glad to know. And I'm glad for Danny, really I am.” I gripped the telephone cord until my knuckles whitened.

“Why don't I believe you?” she said quietly, surprise etching her tone.

Maybe I was too raw from the open wound of John. Maybe I was too fearful of soon returning to Little Rock, the reality of that aloneness weighting me. Maybe after all that God had shown me, I just didn't have the need to save face as before. Maybe it was all those things. For whatever reason, at that moment I blurted words that erased seventeen years of silence on the subject. “Miss Jessie”—my tone turned bitter—“you must have talked to him. Why did he leave me?”

She inhaled loudly enough for me to hear. “Celia—” She hesitated, as if searching for words. “I don't know what to say. I mean . . . you left him.”

A rush of air escaped me. “Did he tell you that?” I replied angrily, as if it had been yesterday. “He's the one who went to Greece.”

“Yes, I know, but . . . but that was only after . . .” Her voice trailed away.

Even as I write this, I feel so mad—madder than I ever was at my daddy.