Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  I looked at her, astounded. “It is, Mama.”

  She scoffed. “It’s a piece of glass, Celia. And it was just one more way your granddad sought to exalt himself.”

  I had determined not to dwell on the past during mealtime, but Mama’s caustic remark opened a floodgate. Despite Daddy’s presence, I couldn’t ignore the hateful comment. Why had she held on to the same old bitterness after all these years?

  “The marble brought Granddad joy, Mama,” I said evenly. “Just like all his battle stories.”

  “Don’t talk to me of his storytelling!” she retorted. “I didn’t mention that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Celia, don’t you dare—”

  Daddy thwacked his right hand on the table, startling us both. “Sstaapuh!”

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry.” I placed a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He glared at us. “Paaapuh! Rrrituh!”

  “Sure, okay.” I pushed back my chair while Mama sat motionless, her cheeks flushed. “It’s probably in the living room,” I blabbered. “Your pen too. We should think of a way to hang them from your chair so you’ll always have them with you.” I exited the kitchen as I chattered, irrationally unnerved by Daddy’s reaction. Not that Mama and I hadn’t deserved it, but this new emphatic side of his personality still sent me scrambling. “Here we go!” I sang as I trotted back to the table.

  Mama and I watched in silence as Daddy wrote with purpose. When he held up the paper for us to see, his face was grim.

  No more fighting. Iwon’t have it!

  “Now, William, we weren’t fighting.” Mama’s tone was patronizing.

  “Yaa! Wuhrr!”

  “Daddy, we won’t argue anymore,” I said quickly. “Will we, Mama?” I didn’t like the redness in his face, afraid of what stress might do to him. The idea to call John Forkes and ask him about possible consequences flashed through my mind.

  “Yyoo.” Daddy pointed at me. “Yyoo.” His finger moved to Mama. “Taawkuh.”

  I almost laughed. Insisting that we talk without fighting was like asking a dog and cat to sleep side by side. “We are talking,” I replied lightly. “We’re talking just fine.”

  “Nnuuh! Taawkuh. Heer.” He hit his chest over his heart. “Taawkuh!”

  As soon as the words exploded from his crooked mouth, his energy began to waver, then rippled away, his expression slackening. His eyelids drooped.

  “Oh, Daddy, you’re tired.” I jumped out of my seat again, placing a hand on his blanching cheek, pulling his chair away from the table while Mama watched worriedly.

  “Rest now, William,” she crooned as I began to push him. “You’ve been up a long time.” She looked at me, accusation in her eyes. “Need help puttin’ him to bed?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll do it.”

  My words were as polite as those of Melissa’s parents.

  chapter 33

  On Saturday the rains finally ceased, and under an azure sky I found myself yearning to escape the oppression of the house once more. As Daddy and I pushed through an unusually tiring therapy session, I decided to later venture out for another drive. Dr. Forkes was right—the exercises were gruesome and boring, and it was hard to exude the energy to keep up Daddy’s spirits. How easy it would have been to let the second session of the day slide, but I wouldn’t allow it. I thought of our deadline, one week now already gone. At some point I had to steal away long enough to go to Albertsville and discuss the untenable situation with Mr. Sledge.

  My plans to escape alone were changed by the phone’s ringing just before lunch. Jessie Harding was on the line, declaring she’d waited long enough to visit and, my goodness, if I hadn’t seen the town yet, she wanted to be the one to show me around. “Such new sights,” she added, “all two blocks of ’em.”

  Miss Jessie turned out to be just what my sodden spirits needed. She was as pretty and trim as she was the day I left Bradleyville, and I told her so. Laughing, she pointed to the crow’s-feet around her eyes as testament to her ripe age of fifty-three. Mama appeared from the kitchen and they chatted briefly, Miss Jessie inquiring about Daddy’s progress. I watched their exchange with growing curiosity; something wasn’t right between them. As far as I knew, they’d always gotten along. I wanted to ask about this and so much more once we were in Miss Jessie’s car, but I found myself tongue-tied.

  We reached the intersection at Main Street, and the old memories came flooding back. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “So,” Miss Jessie said, “you haven’t been downtown yet.”

  I opened my eyes. We had turned the corner. “Well, I went up to the church,” I said, hoping I sounded normal. “But that was at night, so I didn’t see much.”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  I frowned at her profile. “What do you mean, that’s right?”

  She laughed in embarrassment, as if I’d caught her at something. “You know Bradleyville, Celia; everybody knows what everybody’s doin’. I heard you visited the cemetery the night you arrived.”

  “You heard that? I don’t know how anybody other than Mama would know that.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” She waved it away. “Someone saw you, that’s all, and word got around. You know gossip is hard to avoid in Bradleyville, even though I do my best. I’ve never been very comfortable around idle talk. But anyway, it’s not important. What is important is what you’re doin’ for your daddy.”

  “Good grief,” I breathed, anger stirring in my veins. “I’ve been gone all this time, and the very night I come back, people start yakking again.”

  “Look, forget it. You grew up with this. Pay no attention; just go about your business. Now here we are. Let’s walk around a bit.”

  I worked to push down my irritation. “Sure.”

  She hesitated. “You don’t sound like you really want to.”

  “It’s just that I feel like a walking billboard all of a sudden,” I burst. “‘Here’s Celia Matthews, folks!’ Merely showing my face in town should give everyone a great topic of conversation at supper tonight.”

  A hint of a smile graced her lips. “You never let it bother you before.”

  Touché, Miss Jessie, I thought. But then I had something to fight for, didn’t I?

  Ruefully I smiled back, knowing she was the wrong target for my anger. It was true that she never spread gossip. Unlike her aunt Eva Bellingham. “No. I didn’t let it bother me.” Firmly I opened the car door.

  My grand tour began with her shop, in which four sewing machines whirred. Folks were now coming all the way from Albertsville for their tailoring, due to Miss Jessie’s reputation. She introduced me to each employee. I was amazed at how the shop had grown, and told Miss Jessie so. How proud I was of what she’d accomplished.

  “I haven’t seen your aunt in over a week,” I remarked as we left. “I suppose she hasn’t gotten out because of the rain.”

  Miss Jessie paused. “Rain does bother her hands. I’m sure you’ll see her eventually.”

  She wasn’t telling me something. I was trying to imagine what it was when I spotted a familiar green awning down the block. The thought vanished. “Oh, Miss Jessie, Tull’s Drugstore looks just the same!” I stopped on the sidewalk, gazing at it. “It’s late April and no chairs are out.”

  “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 cou
nter 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

  chapter 34

  All 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 ‘bell.’”

  “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 . . .

  ~ 1978 ~

  chapter 35

  We 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’ it—Mama 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.”