Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  Wearily I told him of my argument with Mama, wishing he could hold me. “I don’t know how much Daddy overheard, but he can certainly sense the mood between us, and it’s upsetting him. I understand that, but he shouldn’t allow it to affect his therapy. In a way he’s acting like a child.”

  “You and Estelle need to get along, Celia,” John responded with impatience. “Your daddy doesn’t need that kind of stress.”

  His reaction was far from the understanding I’d expected. Stung, I struggled to remind myself he was Daddy’s doctor first. “You think I don’t realize that?” I challenged. “Believe me, I’m doing everything I can under the circumstances to keep the house quiet. I’ll try to work things out between Mama and me. But it’s a little hard, you know, after a lifetime.”

  His face softened. “You’re looking pretty stressed yourself.”

  My eyes closed. “There are just so many things going on right now, John. In the house. And with you. Sometimes I think I just can’t handle it anymore.”

  He nodded, frowning. It occurred to me how much inner turmoil he must feel as he discussed wedding plans with Sharon, her face lighting up over the details, and plotted how he and I could see each other.

  The curtains moved inside the house. I turned away. “Mama’s watching.”

  He took a deep breath. “Listen, Celia.” His words were low, hurried. “I have a little hunting cabin about an hour’s drive from here. I use it to get away once in a while. Next time I go, I want you to meet me there, even if it’s only for an hour or two.”

  I grew breathless at the thought. “John, I don’t know. I want to, but I just—”

  “Think about it. Think about us, Celia. I want to be with you, have time to talk to you alone.”

  My throat tightened. “And I want to be with you.”

  “Then think about it. We’ll discuss it Friday. Okay?”

  In the next moment he was gone.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to talk to someone. Late that night, in hushed tones over the phone, I told Carrie about John.

  “Oh, Celia,” she said, sighing. “What are you getting yourself into?” “I don’t know. But I want to go see him so much. Too much.” Tears pricked my eyes. “It’s very hard here, Carrie, with everything in the present and memories of the past. I’m just so tired of being lonely.”

  “I know.” Her voice was gentle. “I told you someday you’d find someone. But this someone is already taken. And he’s being deceitful by being with you. Is that the kind of person you want?”

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear the words that I knew were so right. “You can’t understand. Being here, I miss Danny more than ever.

  Some nights I feel him so closely, I ache with it. But he’s gone forever, and meanwhile John’s here. How can I let this chance go? Maybe John’s not supposed to be with his fiancée at all; maybe he’s supposed to be with me. Maybe he’s the one who will finally help me forget Danny.”

  “Whoever he’s supposed to be with, I can tell you one thing. He should be truthful and so should you. If he’s worried about marrying the wrong person, he should postpone the wedding, take time to think about it. But sneaking around—that’s no foundation for a relationship.”

  Her words hit home. How could I even think of being with John when it meant causing his fiancée so much pain? Just like I’d hurt Melissa. Would I never learn from the past? “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  She sighed again. “Okay.”

  I played with the phone cord. “How’s Andy?”

  “Still great. We’re seeing each other often.”

  “I’m glad,” I said, meaning it. “Don’t lose him, Carrie; keep him close.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry.”

  I could hear the irony in her tone. Here I was, the potential other woman in one man’s life, trying to protect Carrie’s relationship with another. “Well, guess what,” I said, steering away from the subject. “This Saturday I’m finally seeing Bobby Delham. I talked to him today.”

  “Oh! Was he surprised to hear from you?”

  I smiled, remembering the conversation. “He was very glad. Said he’d hoped I would call.”

  Carrie laughed. “And they say nothing ever happens in small towns. A doctor, now a widowed ex-boyfriend. Wouldn’t it be a riot if you two really hit it off after all these years? Imagine ending up with him after all, just like your mother wanted!”

  I rolled my eyes. What I could imagine was the gossip. Poor, nice Bobby Delham. Got her hooks in him again. “Yeah, Carrie, there’d be a riot all right.”

  Miss Jessie called Wednesday, inviting me to meet her downtown at Tammy’s Café late that afternoon. “It’s always a quiet time,” she hastened to add. “We’ll probably be the only ones there.” Nerves frayed, I jumped at the chance to get out of the house.

  Seated in a vinyl-covered booth, coffee and Tammy’s home-baked oatmeal cookies between us, I spilled to Miss Jessie what was going on at home. I knew she would understand and not judge. She had always been so sweet to me when I was a child. I told her that the rift between Mama and me dated back to when I was very young, and was surprised to hear that Miss Jessie already knew. She had noticed it herself, she told me, particularly beginning the summer Kevy was born. Of course, I thought, the summer I colored the sidewalk. And finally we spoke of my teenage years, when Mama and I had fought so much over Danny.

  Danny.

  Miss Jessie grew quiet when his name slipped from me. She had so tactfully avoided any mention of it. The topic suspended between us with the fragility of blown glass as she searched for something to say. All these years, and I’d been so afraid to ask anyone about him. Selfishly, I couldn’t bear to hear of his happiness with Rachel. But suddenly I longed for news of him.

  “Miss Jessie,” I said, plunging in, “how is he?”

  Her expression softened. “Oh, Celia, he—” She stopped abruptly, pasted on a quick smile. “He’s doing very well. Still works for the cruise lines, although it’s a different one. He switched to another company soon after he went to Greece. Now he’s risen high in the corporation. Danny’s such a hard worker and they noticed him, little by little giving him more responsibilities. Eventually he went to college, taking a few courses at a time as he worked. He’s been settled in Greece for a long time now, although he has business in New York three or four times a year.”

  “That’s . . . wonderful,” I managed. I could hardly breathe. “Danny Cander, world traveler, Bradleyville’s biggest success.” All the oceans he must have seen. I hoped there was no bitterness in my voice.

  “We’re very proud of him. We hear from him occasionally, but men aren’t that great at writing, you know. He does call when he comes to the States.”

  “Has he ever come back here?”

  “Oh no. As much as he’d like to see Lee and me, nothin’ has ever gotten him to set foot in Bradleyville again. Too many bad memories. Most of his news we get in regular letters from Patricia.”

  I pictured Danny years ago telling his mama about what I’d done with Bobby, and Patricia Cander writing of her shock at the news. What Miss Jessie must have thought of me.

  “Patricia’s doin’ wonderfully,” she said. “She married in Greece, a good man that treats her like a princess, and she’s so happy.”

  “I’m really very glad to hear that,” I replied, remembering her sad but pretty face, her soft voice. “I always liked her. She took such tender care of Kevy that day . . .” I blinked at Miss Jessie, aware that my words had trailed away.

  “She was like that,” Miss Jessie said, rescuing me. “But I haven’t told you the best part. She had a baby—another boy. She was forty-one at the time but sailed right through it. Patricia always loved children and wanted more; she and her husband were just ecstatic. The boy’s name is Gregory Allen; they call him Greg. He’s fifteen now and playing in some rock band in Greece. Lucky kid, the way his parents and his big brother dote on him.”

 
I stared at the blue silk flowers in their white vase upon our table, struck with the irony. I felt happy for Danny and his mama, I did, even though it seemed he’d gotten everything he wanted in life, while I had lost it.

  After coming this far, I told myself I might as well hear it all. “I suppose they’ve got kids, too.” My voice sounded pinched.

  Miss Jessie wrinkled her forehead. “Who?”

  “Danny.” Her name lay acrid on my tongue. “And Rachel.”

  “Rachel?” Miss Jessie replied blankly. “Who’s Rachel?”

  chapter 53

  The repercussions of my fight with Mama continued to stretch through the week with glaring tensility. She remained cold and unyielding; Daddy was touchy. Thursday afternoon, upset with them both and sick at heart over Danny, I struggled to lead Daddy through a stagnant speech therapy session.

  “Say ‘long,’” I told him, hearing Miss Jessie’s words.

  Oh, Rachel. She didn’t last long, Celia. Got them to Greece; that was about it. Danny changed jobs and never saw her again, as far as I know. That was ... a very difficult time for Danny. Patricia was worried about him.

  “Okay, Daddy. Try ‘news.’”

  Mama must have known this news of Danny, yet had never volunteered a word. Her silence had probably been for the best; I could imagine her I-told-you-so’s. How could I have been so shocked to receive Danny’s final letter? Why had it been so hard to believe he’d changed his mind at the last minute, heeding the ocean’s call, his desire to see the world? Hadn’t Mama warned me enough?

  “Good. Now say ‘time.’”

  To have assumed for all these years that Danny and Rachel were together, only to learn they’d lasted no time at all. To know now that he’d walked away from a love as deep as ours not because he’d found someone else but merely to fulfill his dreams of traveling. To see now that those dreams were far more important to him than I ever was. But Miss Jessie’s last piece of news had been the final straw. Danny had never married, she said, had never even been engaged, although he was finally dating someone steadily now. According to Patricia, it sounded serious.

  “Tiimuh,” Daddy repeated.

  All this time that I’d been alone, all this time, he had been also. And why, I moaned to myself as I uttered more practice words. The waste of it, after everything we’d had. I wanted to cry as I sat before Daddy, a plastic smile on my lips; I wanted to scream at the loss of it. We had both lost. If he’d really loved me, he could have tracked me down in Little Rock; he could have given us another chance. I’d have sailed any ocean to be with him. Now he’d found someone else.

  “Say ‘fine.’”

  Fine then, I raged to myself, fighting tears. Just fine. He could have her, whoever she was. As for me, I refused to sit around and hurt over him anymore. I would never read his old letters again, never. After seventeen years enough was enough. I’d been an absolute fool, mooning over him for so long. Here I was now, back in Bradleyville, and John Forkes was here. He wanted me. Surely he’d be the one who could finally pull my ancient, stupid love for Danny out of my heart for good.

  After all the pain I deserved some happiness.

  By Friday morning Daddy was ready for a battle of his own. When I wheeled him back to his bedroom after breakfast and informed him that we needed to begin his therapy session, he responded with a tightlipped no.

  I tried to laugh it off. “What do you mean, no?”

  “No thurapy.”

  “Why, what’s wrong? You tired?”

  “Yes!” He smacked his hand on the wheelchair. “Tarred a you an’ Mama fightin’.”

  “Come on, Daddy, we’re not fighting now.”

  “Yes. Aare.”

  I was glad Mama was still in the kitchen. I closed the bedroom door. “Look, I’ll work things out with her, I promise, but we can’t let that get in the way of your exercises. I know the last five days have been rough. If we keep at it, we’ll see improvement again.”

  “No. No thurapy till you an’ Mama taawk.”

  I stared at him in consternation. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Yup.”

  For all the weakness of his limbs, Daddy displayed an inner strength for which I proved no match. He was immovable. I reasoned with him, I cajoled, I told him he was only hurting himself, and asked didn’t he want to get back to work? Finally, nearly in tears, I blurted who did he think he was, that he could force us to mend such a broken relationship? “It’s never been right, Daddy, you know that! It’s going to take time to fix it, and you can’t sit around waiting for that, or you may end up waiting forever!”

  He shook his head and reached for his tablet and pen. I sat down on the bed and as I watched, his slowly written reply plopped into my heart like fat raindrops falling into a pond.

  You can only have bitterness against a person you don’t understand. There is much about Mama you don’t know. I spent my life understanding her. You must do the same.

  “What is there to understand?”

  She must be willing to tell you. You must be willing to listen.

  Why was it so difficult, I wondered, for Mama and me to do that? What was it about mere words that tied the tongue and made sweaty hands fidget?

  I plucked at one of the tiny balls of lint that were scattered across the bedspread and let it drop onto the carpet.

  “You still luv Danny?”

  I looked up in surprise, wondering what had prompted this sudden broaching of a long-taboo subject. Even in our recent talks we had not spoken of Danny. No, I wanted to tell him, with the anger of a woman scorned, that ended years ago. I opened my mouth to deny it, then saw the look in his eyes. He knew the answer.

  “Yes.”

  He emitted a sigh. “Such a llong tiime.”

  His voice held a sadness that delved beyond empathy for me. I gazed at him questioningly but he said no more.

  When John arrived after supper, Mama immediately accosted him. “Talk to William! He refuses to exercise, hasn’t done a thing all day.”

  “Aask them,” Daddy replied tersely when John questioned him. We’d all gathered in the living room, Daddy looking defiant, Mama upset. John spread his hands.

  “This is ridiculous, William,” Mama declared, swiping hair from her face, “that we should need to bring Dr. Forkes into this.” She pointed at me. “I told you, you shouldn’t have talked to him about workin’. It’s just depressed him.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with that, Mama, and you know it,” I retorted. “He’s just—”

  “Sstop!” Daddy threw up a hand. “See?” he exclaimed to John.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mama stalked to her bedroom.

  I collapsed onto the couch, jaw set. “John, talk some sense into him”—I glared at Daddy—“so he doesn’t lose any of what we’ve worked so hard to gain.”

  John looked nonplussed. Briefly I wondered how often he’d been forced to play psychologist with his patients. “Maybe I should talk to him alone for a minute, Celia.”

  “Fine.” Like a dismissed child I flounced from the room. Slumping on my bed, face in both hands, I swore to myself I should go home. Forget all this, forget my promise. The only reason I wanted to stay was John, and that reason was all wrong. Yet in the midst of all the simmering hurt and after hearing about Danny, I wanted John more than ever.

  He knocked at my door. Daddy and Mama were in their bedroom trying to talk, their door closed. I led John to the kitchen. “You’ve got to fix it,” he commanded in a low voice. “Seeing you and your mama together is far more important to him than his own health.”

  “Okay!” I trembled. “I want things right for Daddy, whatever the cost. But how am I supposed to fix something that’s been broken so long?” I brought a hand to my forehead, tears welling in my eyes.

  “Celia, I’m sorry this is so hard for you.” John reached for me. “Come here.”

  “No.” I pushed him away. “Mama could come in anytime.”

  “I
told William to give us five minutes to talk. Come here.” He pulled me to him, pressing his lips against mine, and amid everything I was falling again, away from Mama and Daddy and therapy sessions and hurt and disappointment. “Listen,” he said, “I can get away this weekend while another doctor covers for me. Come see me at the cabin Sunday while they’re in church; just tell them you’re going out for a drive. Tell me you’ll come, Celia.”

  I took his face in my hands, imagining. Wondering if being with him could drive away the pain. Weighing the possible consequences. I thought of Carrie’s warnings. Of her insistence that God had brought me here. What new way would he think of to punish me if I went through with this? What on earth would happen if anyone found out?

  What would it do to Daddy? Finally I thought of the pain I’d endured over Danny and my new resolve to put it behind me once and for all.

  I looked into John’s eyes and the questions melted away.

  His hair was mussed on one side and I combed it with my fingers.

  “I’ll need directions.”

  chapter 54

  I could not sleep Friday night with the demons that plagued me, my thoughts skittering like dry autumn leaves. I longed for Sunday with an aching heart. Yet my conscience still railed at me. I knew Mama would not begin to understand; I’d never make peace with her if she found out. And the stress it could cause Daddy! I couldn’t bear to think of his paying the price for my impulsive actions. How could I even think of saying yes to John? Had I not cost us enough already?

  My mind squalled until night became morning, the gray dawn seeping across my wedding ring quilt and spilling onto the floor. Daddy was quiet at breakfast and Mama was sullen, both of them glancing at the circles beneath my eyes and misunderstanding their reasons. I thought of other girls and their mothers; I thought of Danny and Patricia Cander and wondered for the millionth time what it would be like to feel loved and nurtured by Mama.

  I thought of John.