Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  “Now, don’t be so judgmental,” Granddad had chided. “That’s not the Christian thing to do. You’re not seein’ how much your mama’s tried to bend things your way.”

  “That’s not true,” I’d retorted. “She’s never gone out of her way to make me happy. You’re the one who wanted me to talk to Danny, weren’t you, and she used that against you. Your war stories for her permission—how clever. It kept me from fightin’ with her and you from talkin’. Two flies with one blow.”

  He’d squeezed my knee gently. “The bargain was my idea, missy. I was afraid she might not let you go to the river after that first time, and it seemed you were strikin’ up a right good friendship with Danny. He mighta needed it more’n you. Ever since Jessie’s wedding years ago I sorta kept an eye on that boy. There’s something in him that speaks to my heart. So when I got a chance, I figured I’d help him out and pacify your mama at the same time. ’Cause I’ve been prayin’ for God to heal things between me and your mama even longer than I been prayin’ for Danny. Lord knows I done enough in my life to give her trouble.”

  “You have not.” I’d been indignant.

  “Celia! Hello!” Mary Lee waved a hand in front of my face.

  I jumped. “Sorry. What?”

  “I said Mona Tesch told me you’re sweet on Bobby Delham, but you’ve been actin’ kinda strange to him lately.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bobby Delham. Right.”

  Two blocks down I could see the flag fluttering limply over the post office, where Mrs. B. worked. We cruised through downtown, crossed the railroad tracks, and made a U-turn. I looked longingly down Wilder Road, which ran parallel with the tracks. One mile and a left turn would take us past Danny’s house. I thought about urging Mary Lee in that direction but didn’t have the nerve. “We better go to your house now,” I told her.

  The stairs in Mary Lee’s large pillared home were carpeted in lush white that sank scrumptiously beneath my bare feet. My sandals lay near the front door. The mansion spread majestically on ten acres just outside town on Route 347, custom built for Mary Lee’s family when they moved from Lexington to buy the lumber mill.

  Mary Lee led me to her room, proudly showing her canopied brass bed. “I got new furniture and everything since the last time you were here. And look.” She crossed the large room to a record player and tall speakers. “This is new, too. What group do you like?” She began flipping through a stack of albums.

  I squatted beside her, hiding my exasperation. Mary Lee had a way of pretending to assume things she knew weren’t true. She was different from the other kids in Bradleyville, even went to an exclusive private school in Albertsville. Just being with her reminded me of everything I lacked. “I don’t have a radio,” I told her. “So I don’t really know.”

  “I suppose your parents think listenin’ to rock music is a sin.”

  “Well, lots of parents in Bradleyville don’t want their kids hearin’ it.”

  “And why, exactly?”

  I sighed. “Same reason we don’t watch much TV, I guess, other than the news—and cartoons when I was a kid. Supposedly, there’s too much bad stuff in it.”

  She widened her eyes dramatically. “So tell me. You ever get tired of followin’ all those rules?”

  I knew that Mary Lee wasn’t a Christian, that she couldn’t understand how the rules in Bradleyville were founded on Christian principles. Hidden beneath my simmering rebellion was an indomitable awareness of that fact, even though I was growing to hate the rules more each day. My conscience twinged, prompting an explanation to Mary Lee and a witness of what God could do in her own life. And then a voice inside me said, How hypocritical you are. Lately I’d been pushing God away, convinced that he simply could not repair the gaping holes in my life. Not with Danny and certainly not with Mama. Watching the cynicism crease Mary Lee’s face now, I felt tongue-tied. At that moment a shift occurred around me, like the slight temperature drop when one crosses the threshold of a poorly heated room. It struck me that unencumbered Mary Lee seemed to enjoy life more than the rest of my friends. “Yes,” I declared, surprised at my cynical tone. “Mostly because Mama won’t let me go anywhere or have a boyfriend.”

  She exhaled loudly. “What’s the matter with this town anyway? How do you stand it?”

  “Well . . .” I weighed my response. “Maybe I won’t much longer.”

  “Is there somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  “Come on, Celia. The way you pooh-poohed Bobby Delham and all. You been sneakin’ out with somebody behind your mother’s back?” “No.” As if I could get away with such a thing.

  “She’s been lettin’ you see somebody?”

  “Not really.”

  “I know who you like,” she drawled. “That country boy who saved your brother.” She couldn’t miss my flitting expression. “Ha! I knew it! Come on, tell me.”

  “It’s kind of a secret.”

  She sucked in air. “That’s the best kind.”

  When I hesitated further, she grabbed my hands to pull me across the room and onto the middle of her bed, climbing next to me. “Wait a minute,” she said, shuffling on her knees to each brass corner, where she untied the lace that held back frothy rose curtains. Swishing down around the bed, they filtered the natural light, tinting our skin a dusky pink. “There.” She faced me, cross-legged. “Now. Tell me.”

  After hiding my feelings for Danny, it was a relief to gush to Mary Lee. I couldn’t bring myself to shame him by telling her about his fight with his daddy. But I did speak of my growing feelings for him despite his reputation. “He doesn’t fight at school anymore,” I added. “He’s really different now. And around girls he’s real shy.”

  “Well, you can get him over that.”

  I sighed, sudden tears clawing my eyes. Everything seemed so easy with Mary Lee, as if she could snap her fingers and creation would fall at her feet. That cavalier expression, the nuance of her lifted shoulder, only reminded me of skills I didn’t possess. Nor could I imagine unleashing them on Danny. I’d been afraid to even take his hand, for goodness’ sake.

  Not that it mattered now.

  “What is it?” Mary Lee tugged on my sleeve.

  My legs were blurry against her white coverlet. “We had a fight and now he won’t speak to me. Yesterday I saw him across the street but he just turned his back.”

  “Oh.” Her voice dropped. “Did you try to talk to him?”

  In front of Mr. Jenkins and hawk-eyed Jake Lewellyn? “No, I just . . . stared. He’s the one who turned away.”

  “Yeah, Celia, but sometimes you gotta make the first move.”

  I started to shake my head.

  “Well, you want him back, don’t you? So call him, ask if you can meet somewhere.”

  “I can’t, Mary Lee. I have no privacy on our phone; somebody’s always around. Plus what if his daddy answered, or his mama?”

  “Hang up!”

  Absently I rubbed a finger over her lacy bedspread. There was no way to explain to Mary Lee the serene exhilaration I’d felt while being with Danny. It was like the time I marveled at a large butterfly that had alighted on my hand. Danny wasn’t someone I could recapture with a net of feminine wiles. He had to want to come back to me. “I just can’t go runnin’ after him, Mary Lee.” Blowing out air, I pulled aside a bed curtain, willing my face to brighten. “I’m sick of talkin’ about him right now. Why don’t you show me your new records?”

  “Sure. We’re gettin’ too morose here anyway.” Thrusting open the curtains, she jumped off the bed and padded across the sun-drenched carpet. “You’ve heard of Saturday Night Fever, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know that much about it.”

  Her mouth hung open. “You don’t know much about Saturday Night Fever? It’s only the biggest movie anywhere. And the Bee Gees? And disco?”

  I raised my hands, palms up.

  “Well, come on!” she cried ha
ppily. “I’ll teach you how to do the Latin Hustle!”

  Dancing. I managed a smile. Wouldn’t Mama have a fit.

  chapter 24

  William, I need the use a your car fer a spell, if you don’t mind,” Granddad announced as he rose from the supper table.

  William, My hands were in soapsuds, scrubbing Mama’s black roasting pan while she put food away. Our tacit agreement of silence wafted between us like winter air seeping underneath a weather-beaten door. Scraping mashed potatoes into a plastic container, Mama stopped with the bowl in midair when she heard Granddad’s request. I kept my head down, scouring, blowing strands of hair away from the sides of my mouth. But my ears were pricked.

  “Where ya goin’, Granddad?” Kevy asked.

  “Just need to run an errand, that’s all. Won’t be gone long.”

  “Can I go?”

  “Nope.” Granddad was pushing in his chair. “Got to take care a this on my own, Master Kevin.”

  I figured I knew where he was going—to the store for the packaging he needed to mail his medals.

  “Daddy,” Mama said, “you know you shouldn’t be drivin’.”

  He headed out of the kitchen, muttering that he knew nothing of the sort.

  “William,” Mama hissed. “Do somethin’.”

  Daddy shrugged. “Like what?”

  “Go with him!” She set down the bowl of mashed potatoes with a bang. “What if he has one of his heart spells on the way?”

  “He can’t be goin’ far, Estelle. He’ll be all right.”

  “Oh, William, you’re no help at all.”

  My mouth moved before I thought. “Maybe he’ll let me go.”

  I could feel Mama’s glare at my back. I scrubbed the pan harder, smugly satisfied over her ambivalence at my suggestion. Sending me off with a secretive Granddad would only strengthen our bond against her. But at least I’d keep an eye on him.

  “Well, you can ask.” Her voice was grudging.

  But Granddad eased off in Daddy’s car on his own, headed toward town. When I turned from our living room window, Mama gave me a look. Daddy settled into his chair with a book while Kevy banged out the back door to play on the swing. I escaped to my room.

  At Granddad’s request I walked him to the post office the next day, after the worst heat had passed. The medals on his bookcase had disappeared, and a large manila envelope, painstakingly packaged with protective stuffing and addressed to Lawrence Tremaine at the Lexington Herald, was now clutched in his hand.

  “Did you remember to fill out the form that reporter sent you?” I asked, holding his arm as he negotiated the porch steps.

  “Don’t you worry none,” he chuckled. “I done this up right.” He’d spent some time on the phone before lunch, while Mama and Kevy were out. “I need some privacy now, missy,” he’d said as he picked up the receiver. I’d managed to look indignant. Eavesdropping on Mama was one thing but I wouldn’t do that to Granddad.

  “You must be excited,” I remarked after we’d walked a block and a half down Main. About five blocks ahead the post office flagpole thrust into the hazy blue sky. Granddad was walking slower already. Fortunately, we weren’t going all the way to Tull’s. There was a bench under the shade of a maple tree outside the post office where he could rest awhile before we started back.

  “Yep.”

  I was not looking forward to seeing Mrs. B. Loose-mouthed old hen. Sure enough, the minute Granddad and I stepped into the building, she started clucking. “Well, look who’s here,” she said ever so sweetly, patting her red-haired bun. “Good to see you, Thomas. Celia. Out helpin’ your granddad, are you?”

  I smiled tightly. I could well imagine what she was thinking, looking at me. She and Mama had probably yakked a blue streak since Wednesday night.

  “Afternoon, Eva,” Granddad replied, leaning tiredly against the counter. “Your hands treatin’ you fair today?”

  She held out freckled fingers. “They’re okay today, thank you. Still, I used to think I’d be workin’ for ages after Frank retires, but now I’m not so sure.” Mr. B. had been made manager of the lumber mill immediately following the strike that occurred when I was six years old. “Oh, well.” She sighed. “So whatcha got for me, Thomas?”

  Granddad placed his envelope on the counter. “I’m sendin’ this here package to Governor Julian Carroll hisself,” he declared, “by way of a reporter in Lexington. But before I do, I need to know you’ll take good care of it.”

  “Well, of course I will.”

  Granddad’s eyes narrowed. “Ya ain’t in on no funny stuff with Jake Lewellyn at my expense, are ya?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean, you’re not fixin’ to take this after I done mailed it and give it to him?”

  She inhaled slowly, drawing to her full height and spreading a hand across her chest. “Certainly not, Thomas Bradley,” she retorted huffily. “This is the U.S. mail. It’s my job to send it and receive it, not tamper with it!”

  Granddad’s mouth twitched. I turned away, pretending to gaze out the window so she wouldn’t see my amusement.

  “Well then, see that it gits there.” The envelope scraped softly over the counter.

  I contained my giggles until Granddad and I were parked on the bench outside Mrs. B.’s little kingdom. “You sure gave her a hard time.” “Yep.” Granddad braced himself against the back slats of the green bench, his legs spraddled, hands on his thighs. He looked highly pleased with himself. He hadn’t really been concerned about Mrs. B.’s working in cahoots with Mr. Lewellyn. He’d just given her a little grief on my account, and I could have hugged him for it.

  “I’ve never liked her,” I commented.

  Granddad gazed across the street. “She’s a fine woman, missy, just talkative, that’s all. She has to watch her words sometimes; I have to watch my pride. We all got our own weaknesses. But Eva, she’s had to face a lot a things. When her son, Henry, was alive, that boy was her life. He was only two years older’n your mama, you know. And a fine young man. Fine indeed. His dyin’ broke our hearts.”

  Vainly I sought a response, struck by the unexpected sorrow flickering across Granddad’s features. His eyes remained focused afar, and the specter of something ancient and forlorn brushed my shoulders. I shook it away. “I know November’s a long time to wait to see your medals again,” I ventured softly, “but it’ll be worth it, with the whole family goin’ to watch. I hope.”

  He knew what I meant. Grinning suddenly, he jutted out his chin. “It sure will.”

  “Well, Celia,” Granddad said when we were two blocks from home, “tomorrow’s Saturday. You’ll be goin’ to the river, I expect.”

  His feigned casualness didn’t fool me for a minute. He’s been waiting our entire outing to say this, I thought as a rock fell into my stomach. Danny was not a subject I wanted to discuss. “Why, Granddad? Danny doesn’t want to see me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “He stood me up twice.”

  “That don’t mean he don’t want to see you. It just means he’s afraid.”

  “Afraid of what? That I’ll scream at him and push him like he did me?”

  “No, missy. Afraid a bein’ his real self. You see, I know. When I was Danny’s age, I was head over heels in love.”

  We had reached a corner, and I took his arm to help him step down. “With Grandmama, you mean.”

  “Nope. This was but a slip of a girl, only fourteen years old.” He laughed lightly. “I knew I didn’t dare touch her, she was so young. Her daddy’d be after me with a shotgun, sure’s you’re livin’. About all I could do was pine away. Then, afore I got the nerve to tell her how things was, I found myself eighteen and signin’ up for the army, yammerin’ to everybody about how I was finally goin’ to see the world. That was the first time I served in the military, way before World War II. Anyway, by the time I got back four years later, she’d done married and gone.”

  The thought of Danny w
ith anyone else turned my insides to ice. “But you got married to Grandmama eventually.”

  “Yep. And I loved Adele somethin’ fierce, once I got over that little girl. But I was lucky. Love like that don’t always come knockin’ twice.” He patted my hand. “What I’m tryin’ to tell you is, you need to go back and give it one more chance.”

  My throat tightened at the thought of waiting futilely for Danny, hope drifting away with the river’s current. “I just can’t go through that again, Granddad.”

  We were at the corner of Minton and Main, an overhanging willow tree dancing shadows across his eyes. “You givin’ up already?” he asked gently. “I thought Danny Cander was worth fightin’ for.”

  I scuffed my shoe against a crack in the cement. “He is.”

  “Then go at it like the angel Michael, missy.”

  “I can’t. I’m too tired of it all.”

  Granddad grunted in acknowledgment. “I remember thinkin’ that many a time on the battlefield. When my heart was like a ball a lead, aching for the dead all around me, thinking I was goin’ to lose an arm or a leg any minute. Those times I just wanted to give up and let ’em kill me.

  “And then I’d git up and fight.”

  chapter 25

  The heavens still decried no sign of rain as Kevy and I walked down Main Street. Lawns were turning brown and folks moved like slugs in the heat. When I passed Tull’s, I tried not to think of Danny but failed miserably. His actions that day should have convinced me we could not surmount our differences. Crossing the tracks, veering into the field, I told myself I was merely taking Kevy fishing, that Danny wouldn’t be there and I didn’t care. When school started, I’d float right by him, trailing in my wake a half dozen boys who wanted me. I’d flirt with Bobby, make eyes at Randy or Lyle, maybe even sneak off to Albertsville in Mary Lee’s car to meet boys.