Capture the Wind for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  “Yes, do tell,” Cherise said, eyes on her food. “I heard he’s really hot.”

  “Is he from Albertsville?” The bread disappeared into Nicole’s mouth.

  “No.” I took a nonchalant sip of water. Truly it would be a miracle if I could keep Greg’s identity a secret. The adults who knew would keep quiet for the Matthews’ sake. Celia’s parents certainly didn’t need every local female between twelve and eighteen banging on their door. As for my sister and brother, I’d threatened them with death if they told. Robert caused me little worry; he couldn’t understand what the big deal was anyway. But Clarissa—I didn’t trust her one teeny bit. I could just see her now, bragging to a friend.

  All I could do was stall things for a while and hope for the best.

  “He’s from Greece.” I picked up my fork.

  “Greece!” Nicole and Cherise echoed as one, then proceeded to volley me with questions.

  Millicent held up her dainty hands. “Girls. How is she supposed to say a word with all your yakkin’?” She waited for quiet, then turned one hand palm up, as if to give me the floor.

  I told my friends as succinctly as possible about Greg’s relation to the Matthews and Kings.

  “That’s why you got him first—Katherine told you.” Cherise eyed me askance. “You gonna see him again?”

  Wouldn’t she like to know. Matter of fact, I’d scored a major coup with Daddy the previous night. I asked him, with Katherine still around, if Greg could join us for supper the following evening. At first Daddy said no. Surprise, surprise. I’d cast a pleading look at Katherine. She turned her gaze purposely out the back window, as if to say, I’m staying out of this one.

  “Please, Daddy?” I begged. “What could it hurt? Seems to me you’d want to meet him.”

  The irony of the situation was not lost on me. Hadn’t it been mere weeks ago that Daddy had come to me with a similar question?

  “This is way different than when you asked me if Katherine could come,” I declared, “’cause you knew I’d have to cook for her. But I’m not askin’ you to do a thing.”

  Katherine’s lips twitched. She pressed them together and remained silent.

  “Let him come, Daddy,” my sister said.

  “Clarissa, this is not your business.” Daddy eyed me straight on. No question he saw right through my tactics of so innocently mentioning Katherine. Well, so what? Fair was only fair. Meaningfully, I looked from him to her and back again. There he sat with his new love. The one for whom I’d cooked a special supper. Now he was trying to say no to me?

  He cupped his jaw with fingers and thumb. Rocked his knee back and forth.

  “Come on, Katherine,” I appealed, “say something.”

  “Don’t put her in a position between you and me,” Daddy countered.

  Katherine remained silent. But she did lean forward to give him a very pointed look.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He raised his hands, palms up. “Two against one’s not fair.”

  “Three against one, Daddy.” Clarissa folded her arms.

  Daddy surveyed the ceiling. He knew when he’d been bested. “All right, Jackie,” he said wearily. “He can come.”

  “Hello.” Nicole rapped the table, making me jump. “Earth to Jackie. I asked like what does he do in Greece?”

  Good grief. Talk about twenty questions. “Like what would any boy do in Greece, Nicole? Go to school.”

  “Oh, listen to you.” Millicent raised her chin. “Miss Sarcasm.”

  “Sorry. But there’s really not much to tell.”

  “I think there’s a great deal to tell,” she drawled. “Or you wouldn’t be so possessive about the whole thing.”

  “I’m not bein’ possessive.”

  “Yes, you are. If you went out with a guy from here, you’d be gab-bin’ our heads off about now. Didn’t I tell when I went out with Randy? Didn’t Alison tell when she started goin’ out with Jason?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Because . . . well, for one thing I didn’t ‘go out’ with him.” I pushed my tray away. Pressed my back against the chair.

  Millicent watched me, thinning her lips. “What’s his name?”

  I hesitated. “Greg.”

  “Greg what?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Why are you makin’ such a big deal out of this?” I retorted. “I told you he’ll only be here a few days. When he leaves, you’ll still have Randy, and Alison will still have Jacob. And I’ll be have-nobody Jackie.” I stopped abruptly, surprised at the hurt in my voice.

  Millicent eyed me like a wise counselor. “Oh, I see. I get it.” She drew out the words, then offered me a patronizing smile. “Don’t worry, Jackie. You’ll find a boyfriend soon.”

  For a friend, Millicent could be downright annoying. I had a choice. Either strangle her right then and there, or go take a walk and cool off. I rose and picked up my tray.

  “You haven’t eaten anything,” Cherise protested.

  “I’m not hungry.” I looked across the cafeteria and spotted Derek dumping the remains of his food in the trash. He slid his tray on top of the stack, then ambled toward the door. Something about him caught my eye. I had to look twice before I realized what was different.

  “Derek’s not wearing his glasses.”

  Millicent and Nicole turned as one to look. Cherise took a large bite of her brownie, then craned her neck, chewing.

  “He hasn’t had ’em on all day,” Alison said. “I saw him in third period.”

  I’d been in a class with him that morning, too, but hadn’t paid attention. Millicent shrugged back to the table. “Probably broke ’em.” She looked up at me questioningly, as if amazed I’d noticed.

  I left the table without another word.

  Between fifth and sixth periods, I passed Derek in the hall, my mind still stuffed with little but Greg. Derek smiled at me but didn’t slow. For some reason I touched his arm, stopping him.

  “Hey.” I pressed against a locker, away from the flow of bodies. His gray eyes looked just as I remembered from that day at the Kings. Warm. Round. “Where are your glasses?”

  “Oh.” He creased his face in surprise, as if to assure me the topic had been the furthest thing from his mind. “I got contacts.” He shuffled his books from one arm to the other.

  “Hi, Jackie,” Shirley Crane sang as she passed from behind, tapping my shoulder.

  “Hi,” I said with distraction, still looking at Derek.

  He scratched his head, clearly put on the spot. “Guess I better get to class.”

  My heart went out to him. I hoped he’d gain some self-assurance through his improved appearance. If he’d just stand up straight, quit tilting his head. “You look really good, Derek.”

  His eyelids flickered. “Thanks.”

  We couldn’t seem to find anything more to say. He mumbled “see ya” and went his way while I went mine.

  Within seconds, my thoughts had drifted back to Greg. Just a few more hours, I told myself, and he’d arrive at our house for supper. As voices chattered around me and lockers slammed, I pictured Greg at our table. Katherine next to Daddy. And suddenly the unfolding events in our household didn’t seem as strange as they did wondrous.

  How ironic now to look back on that moment. I can almost hear the scuff of my feet across the dusty tiled hallway, feel the schoolbooks in my arms. I remember thinking, as I entered the classroom and slid into my seat, that life was finally improving, and the Delhams had much to anticipate. That Daddy had found happiness, which he so deserved.

  That I couldn’t wait for supper.

  Not in a million years would I have dreamed how disastrous it would prove to be.

  chapter 20

  Katherine came over that afternoon to help me cook. She looked smashing in a pair of tan slacks and a short-sleeved silk orange top that hugged her curves, the gold bracelet gracing her wrist. I glanced
down at myself, wondering what on earth I could change into for supper. The way things stood right now, Greg would more likely have eyes for her than for me.

  We stood in the kitchen, canned laughter from a cartoon show drifting in from the family room. I’d seen Clarissa flop down on the couch, one hand scratching Winnie’s ears.

  Katherine stared at the floor, deep in thought.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Her head jerked up. “Nothing. I was just . . .” She waved a dismissive hand. “So. What are we cooking?”

  “I’ll show you.” I began happily pulling out recipes from my file.

  “Wait a minute, though. Shouldn’t you be doing homework first?”

  At a time like this? “Oh, come on, I’ve got more important things to do.”

  “Huh-uh.” She laid a hand on my recipe file, stopping my busy fingers. “Come to think of it,” she said knowingly, “did you manage to do any homework yesterday?”

  I winced.

  “Ah. Thought so. Go on then. I’ll make supper.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “Go, Jackie. What do you suppose your daddy would think if he knew Greg was costing you schoolwork? Not to mention making sure that your brother and sister do theirs.”

  Still I hesitated. I wanted to take the credit for making a bang-up meal.

  Katherine placed a hand on her hip. “Look. Are you planning on seeing Greg again this weekend? If so, you’d better not let anything slide around here. I’ve gone out on a limb for you; now don’t blow it.”

  What was this—all the sudden she was boss in our house? A retort sprang to my lips. I bit it back. Katherine was right; she had been a big help.

  “Okay. I’m in my bedroom, doing homework. And on my way, I’m checking out Robert. How’s that?”

  She studied me, as if trying to figure if I was being smart. Then she flicked her eyes. “Listen to me, telling you what to do. Sorry. I’m . . . I just want the best for you.”

  “It’s okay. Thanks.”

  Before holing myself in my bedroom—probably to do little more than daydream—I looked in on Robert. He sat propped against pillows on his bed, good knee up, reading a magazine. In the last few days school friends had covered his cast with get-well scribbles. Adults had signed it, too, as they’d stopped in to say hello, most of them bearing gifts. Grandma and Grandpa Westerdahl had brought Robert a new computer game, and Coach Crary had presented him with a stack of sports magazines he hadn’t read. Seemed most of them were now scattered across his bed.

  “Studying hard, I see.”

  He grunted.

  “Robert, just ’cause your leg’s broken and you’re the town hero doesn’t mean you can let your studies slide.”

  As if I had room to talk.

  “I’m done with homework.”

  “You are not.”

  “Am too.”

  I sighed. Amazing how my life could continue in such banality when pure magic had entered it. “Fine, Robert, do what you want.”

  “Why not? They can’t exactly kick me off the team for low grades now, can they.”

  The bitterness in my brother’s voice stopped me short. Suddenly I realized how self-centered I’d been the last few days. All caught up in Greg, not pausing to think how disappointed Robert must be in losing the rest of softball season. I slipped into his room and sat beside him. Brushed the hair off his forehead.

  “I’m sorry. This must be awful hard for you.”

  He let the magazine fall closed and stared sightlessly across the room.

  “Robert. You helped win the game for your team. And your leg will heal. You’ll be able to play next year.”

  “What if it won’t?” He turned toward me, pain in his eyes. “What if it’s messed up, and I can’t ever run right again?”

  “From what I’ve heard, that’s not what the doctor said.”

  The faint sound of cabinets opening and closing filtered in from the kitchen. Robert ruffled the pages of the magazine with his thumb. “But what if he’s wrong, Jackie? What if one stupid move will cost me for the rest of my life?”

  My fingers stilled on his head. What a horrible thought. Surely God would not let that happen. “Robert, I honestly don’t think that will be the case. You can’t let fear of the future keep you from doin’ the things you should be doin’ now, while you’re in the cast. And you know you’ve got people prayin’ for you.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

  I gave his shoulder a squeeze, then stood, sensing he’d said all he wanted on the subject. “Suppose I better do my own homework.”

  He gave another grunt. “You’re not doin’ homework; you’re starin’ at that guy’s picture.” He picked up his magazine and flipped to where he’d been reading.

  Oh, fine, that’s the appreciation I got. “Thank you, dear brother, for your learned opinion.”

  I closed his door firmly on my way out.

  Two hours later, my homework done, believe it or not, I stood in the kitchen with Katherine, making a salad. Clarissa sat at the table, miraculously working on her math by herself.

  The phone rang. Miss Connie was on the line, sounding worried. I handed the phone to Katherine.

  Apprehension darted across her face. “Hi.” She disappeared into the family room, her voice lowering. I frowned at her back. Something wasn’t right, and I did not like the unsettled feeling that kicked through me. Nothing could go wrong tonight. Nothing.

  I slipped out of the kitchen toward the entry hall, then eased toward the open archway door of the family room, listening.

  “How many times has he called?” Katherine hunched over the phone, her back to me. Who could she be talking about? Couldn’t be Daddy.

  “All you can do is say the same thing we’ve been saying—I don’t want to see him.”

  She paused.

  I heard the dog flop down in the kitchen. “Get off my feet, Winnie,” Clarissa complained.

  “What makes you think that?” Katherine gave her head a disgusted toss. “If he keeps calling and harassing us, I’ll report him.” She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “Okay. Thanks, Mama. Have a good time at the Clarks’ tonight.”

  Katherine hung up the phone and stared at it mindlessly. I sidled back into the kitchen. By the time she appeared I stood before the salad bowl. I stole a look at her profile, apprehension coiling through my stomach. I don’t want to see him. The words sounded so threatening, so frightening for Daddy, that I could only push them away. Whatever this was from Katherine’s past, she’d handle it. Her past didn’t matter now, I told myself. She’d come back to Bradleyville for Daddy. It didn’t affect us. It did not.

  Besides, I thought, tonight was hardly the time to worry about it. In half an hour, Greg would arrive.

  “Somebody put Winnie out!” I called when the doorbell rang. I drew myself up, closed my eyes. I could barely breathe. Calm, Jackie, be calm. Quickly, I slipped into my bedroom for one last look in the mirror. I’d changed into a skirt and one of my favorite shirts—a lacy white cotton with bell sleeves. The front part of my hair was pulled back away from my face. I’d dabbed on a bit of blusher and lip gloss. Now I wondered if I’d overdone it. Well, too late.

  With a deep breath, I went to answer the door.

  Greg stood on our porch looking rather sheepish, the crinkle-wrapped bottom of a flower bouquet clutched in both hands. He wore khaki pants and a bright blue silk shirt that set off his dark skin. I caught a whiff of spice-scented cologne. He smiled at me, and the corners of his eyes creased.

  Celia sat in their rental car at the curb. We waved to each other, and she drove away.

  “She says to call when I’m ready to go back, and she can pick me up,” Greg explained. “I don’t have a driver’s license for this country.” He pronounced the word almost like “cowlty,” with the “l” drawn out.

  “Okay.” I pushed back the door, ushering him inside. Knowing the last thing I wanted to do was call Celia to pick him up. I f
ully planned on driving Greg home myself.

  “These are for you.” He held out the bouquet.

  “Oh!” My first flowers. “Thank you.”

  Katherine came from the kitchen, Daddy by her side. I introduced them. “You are the one who is almost my cousin.” Greg grinned at Katherine.

  “Yes, it’s about time we met.” She hugged him briefly. “I hear you’re going to meet my whole family tomorrow.”

  Greg said hello to Daddy and shook his hand with solemn respect. If not for his accent, with all Greg’s politeness he could have been a Bradleyville boy, born and bred.

  Please, Daddy, please like him.

  While Daddy and Greg talked, I hurried away to put the flowers in a vase.

  At supper, we sat at the dining room table, Katherine in Mama’s seat at the end for the first time. Greg helped me get seated, his hand grazing my shoulder. My skin tingled at his touch. Robert sank awkwardly into his chair opposite me and placed his crutches on the floor. He had to sit half-turned, with his broken leg sticking out beyond the table leg.

  “Mm.” Clarissa sniffed appreciatively.

  Katherine had made a wonderful dish of chicken in a rich sauce, plus rice and herbed peas. All the same, I felt too nervous to eat much. Daddy said the prayer, and we began passing the bowls around the table.

  Greg, naturally, fell into the center of attention.

  “Tell us about how you got started in your band,” Daddy urged. Oh, brother. I wondered how many times Greg had been asked to tell that story.

  But he told it again, this time peppered with interrupting questions.

  “Is your picture in magazines where you live?” Clarissa wondered.

  Greg laughed. “Yes, more than here. How can I explain? In my country we are like one big family. We are very proud of someone from Greece who becomes known, particularly in other countries. People from Athens give us much attention when we say we come to the U.S. They give us a big party before we leave. Many people come.”

  “That must have made you feel very proud,” Katherine said.

  “Yes, proud for Greece. We want to . . .” He searched for a word. “Represent our country. When we are interviewed here, we always talk about Greece.”