Semiprecious

by D. Anne Love

  More people wandered in. A woman wearing a faded T-shirt bought Cooley’s vase and one of the silk screens. A white-haired couple peered at each picture in turn before the woman picked up my Black Beauty painting. “I’ll take this one. My granddaughter loves horses.”

  I counted out her change, amazed that people who were not even kin to me were paying real money for my work.

  At lunchtime we bought lemonade and chicken salad sandwiches from the home ec girls and ate in the gallery. Powla looked around at the half-empty shelves. “I’d say you’ve had a very good day. Two of your pieces sold.”

  I took a long sip of cold lemonade. “Nobody bought my picture of Charlie, though, and it’s the best one.”

  “I think so too. Don’t give up. The day isn’t over yet.”

  But hardly anybody came in after lunch, and nobody bought anything. Opal and Cheryl came in, arm in arm, laughing about some boy who had tripped over his own shoelaces and fallen face-first into a chocolate sheet cake. “Talk about a brown nose!” Cheryl giggled. “The whole thing was hysterical.”

  “I’m sure it was a real scream,” Powla said, grinning. “How about helping us pack this stuff up?”

  We packed everything except my picture of Charlie into boxes and carried them to the storeroom on the first floor so the owners could claim them on Monday. Then Cheryl and Opal ran outside to talk to Miss Barnes.

  “Well,” Powla said, looking around, “I guess this is it.”

  Everything was happening too fast. An empty space opened up inside me. My throat ached. “Miss Mendez,” I began, “I …”

  Powla’s dark eyes glittered. “I’m not very good at saying good-bye.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” I said.

  “But you’re going home to Texas very soon, right?”

  I nodded.

  “So in any case, we wouldn’t be together next year.” She fished a pen from her pocket and took a piece of paper off the storeroom shelf. “Give me your address and I’ll send you a postcard once I’m settled somewhere.”

  Then she removed one of her silver bracelets, a wide one with flowers carved into the edges, and pressed it into my hand. “Here. A little gift to remind you of your promise.”

  I scribbled my address on Piney Road, shoved the paper into her hands, and ran outside swallowing tears, clutching my bracelet and my picture of Charlie tight against my chest.

  “There you are,” Aunt Julia said. “Ready to go?”

  We got into the car, and I held my picture of Charlie on my lap as we headed home. We passed Charlie’s cabin, and the place where he had first given me the worry dolls. Remembering Charlie, I was glad the picture was still mine.

  A horn sounded and a gray car passed us, Mr. Conley at the wheel. I was mad at him for what he’d done to Miss Mendez, but I pitied him too, for being so afraid of people whose ideas weren’t the same as his own. He could keep Powla from teaching in Willow Flats, but he couldn’t stop her from telling the truth. That was the important thing. I thought of the gifts she’d given me that year—a Christmas bauble, a silver bracelet, and a future. I hoped I wouldn’t let her down.

  After church the next day I changed into Opal’s yellow shirt, my white shorts, and a pair of sandals. Opal pulled my hair into a ponytail and did the best she could with my ragged fingernails, then finished off her creation by nearly drowning me in My Sin.

  “Stop!” I waved my hand in front of my nose to disperse the fumes.

  “You don’t want to smell like turpentine, do you?” my sister asked. “Now hold still.” She helped me with my Cotton Candy lipstick, and I went downstairs feeling like I belonged to the pretty girls’ club at last.

  Opal followed me out to the car. “Have fun, okay?”

  Aunt Julia drove me to the baseball park and let me off near the front gate. A few girls were already sitting in the bleachers. One of them said, “Hi!” and patted an empty spot beside her. “Sit here if you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m Beth,” the girl said. “Do you live in Linville?”

  “Willow Flats. Nathan Brown invited me.”

  “Wow. Nathan. He played in my brother’s summer league one year. That boy is so fine!”

  Then the teams trotted onto the field and the announcer read the starting lineups. When Nathan’s name was called, he looked up into the stands. I waved, but he didn’t see me. He picked up his bat and took a few practice swings, and the game started.

  As much as I loved baseball, it was hard to keep my mind on the game. I couldn’t take my eyes off Nathan, even when he was sitting on the bench. I thought about what I would say to him after the game. I wondered if my ponytail was drooping in the heat, and whether my lipstick had smeared. As the game went on, it got hotter in the bleachers and I started to worry that my deodorant had quit working. I casually raised both arms like I was adjusting my ponytail, and gave my underarms a sniff. They smelled okay.

  Almost before I knew it, Willow Flats came to bat for the last time, trailing 3-2. The first player hit a long ball to right field and sprinted all the way to second base. The next one hit a blooper that put him on first. The third one walked, and Nathan came to the plate with the bases loaded. He pulled his cap low over his eyes and pounded his bat into the dirt.

  “Yea, Nathan!” I yelled. “Hit a grand slam! You can do it!”

  He looked up into the stands half a second before the first pitch crossed the plate.

  Strike one.

  Nathan wiped his palms on his uniform, gripped the bat, and crouched over the plate. The second pitch was fast and inside. Nathan swung and missed. The Warriors fans groaned.

  Nathan hit the third pitch, but it went foul. Now I was sitting on the edge of the bleachers, holding my breath. “Come on, Nathan. Watch the ball!”

  I crossed my fingers and prayed he’d get a hit. But he swung hard at the next pitch and struck out, ending the game. The Linville fans whooped and clapped. A man with a camera around his neck jogged onto the field and took pictures as the teams headed toward the dugouts.

  I reached the fence just as Nathan trotted by. “Nathan!”

  He looked up. His eyes were red and wet. Seeing how much the loss had hurt him, I felt like crying too. “You played a great game anyway,” I said. “The season’s just started. One loss won’t matter.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  He turned on his heel and walked off the field.

  Beth came up behind me just as Aunt Julia pulled into the parking lot. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Me too. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime!” Beth called as I ran for the car.

  “How did it go?” Aunt Julia asked.

  “We lost.” I got in and slammed the door. “Nathan blames me because he struck out.”

  “Well, that’s just ridiculous.” We bounced across the dirt parking lot and pulled onto the highway. “How could it possibly be your fault?”

  “I don’t know! First he keeps pushing me to come to a game, and then when I do he won’t even speak to me. I will never understand boys.”

  “Welcome to the club.” Aunt Julia patted my hand. “Don’t give Nathan Brown another thought. I have good news. Your daddy called the store this afternoon. He’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dreams are funny things. You carry them around for so long they become as much a part of you as breath itself. You walk around with a stomach full of butterflies, waiting for dreams to come true. Then when they do, it’s a big letdown because they never turn out the way you imagined.

  Ever since Daddy’s accident, I’d dreamed of the day he would come to Willow Flats to take me home. Now that the day was almost here, instead of feeling happy, I was worried he had changed, that he wouldn’t be the same person who told jokes and taught me to play baseball. I was scared that his homecoming would turn into another big disappointment in a year that had had more than its share o
f them.

  On Monday morning Opal and I got up as usual and dressed for our very last day of school in Willow Flats. Since the seventh graders had to participate in a field day in the afternoon, Mr. Conley had given us permission to wear shorts to school. I wore a pair of pink ones handed down from Opal, and a white blouse. Opal wore a navy skirt and the yellow blouse I’d worn to Nathan’s game.

  We had breakfast with Aunt Julia and went out to wait for the bus. I was so excited to be through with school at last that I could barely stand still. I couldn’t wait to get away forever from Celestial and Faith and their snooty friends, from the ninth-grade boys who hit me with spit wads and made fun of the way I talked, from Mr. Conley who frowned at me like I was a serial killer every time he saw me in the hall. But Opal looked like she was about to cry.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’re all broken up over leaving Willow Flats.”

  “I’ve made some good friends here,” Opal said. “I’ll miss Cheryl and Tacy.”

  “I won’t miss anybody,” I said. “Except Miss Mendez, and she’s already gone.”

  “You’ll miss Nathan, I bet.”

  “Maybe. He won’t miss me, though.”

  “Yes, he will. Boys never tell you how they feel. We’re supposed to be able to look at them and figure out what they’re thinking.”

  The bus rattled down the road. Sunday braked and threw the door open. “Hi, girls! Can you believe this year is finally over?”

  Me and Opal sat together, and we headed for school. The bus was noisier than ever that day; everybody was excited and ready for summer vacation. Annalee Barton got on the bus wearing a pair of red plastic sunglasses and a sundress with spaghetti straps. She grinned and waved to me as she went past my seat. Celestial Jones got on. Little Miss Perfect sashayed down the aisle and sat with Seth Naylor, the human scarecrow who had been Opal’s heartthrob way back last fall. Opal just rolled her eyes when Seth put his arm around Celestial.

  Sunday pulled up to the schoolhouse and killed the engine. “This bus is leaving promptly at three o’clock today,” she announced. “Don’t anybody stay after school or you’ll miss it.”

  We all laughed. Nobody was planning to stay one second past the last bell, and Sunday knew it. She grinned and cranked open the door, and we piled out.

  The little kids sprinted to their school across the road. Everyone else headed for the high school auditorium for the awards assembly. Opal went to find her friends, and I sat in the back row by myself. Five minutes after Mr. Conley started handing out plaques, ribbons, and certificates for this and that, I wished I’d brought my sketchbook or a good book to read. I didn’t know any of the kids whose names were called, and I was bored stiff.

  After the awards were handed out, several of the teachers made announcements, and Mr. Conley talked to the seniors about the graduation ceremony planned for the next Saturday night. Then we were sent to various locations for the rest of the morning. The seniors left to practice for graduation. The juniors went to a Class of ’62 reception in the gym, hosted by the athletes’ moms. The freshmen and sophomores got the best deal; they stayed in the auditorium to watch a movie starring Rock Hudson and Doris Day.

  Mr. Riley herded all the seventh and eighth graders onto the football field, where we listened to a bunch of college kids, boys mostly, talk about the advantages participating in athletics had given them. Then we broke up into teams and practiced batting, throwing, and catching balls. I kept trying to catch Nathan’s eye, to see if I could figure out what was going on in his head, but he remained a big mystery.

  After lunch the high schoolers filled the bleachers, and the seventh graders provided the entertainment by participating in a bunch of silly games like sack races, a water balloon toss, and a three-person relay. I was hoping I’d get paired with Nathan for something, but Mr. Riley kept the boys and girls separated, and I wound up running the sack race against Faith Underwood and a couple of girls from my English class.

  When the games were over, Mr. Riley gave us all a field day participation ribbon and handed out lemonade to cool us down. The band took the field and played a few songs I couldn’t recognize. Then the choir director motioned us to our feet for the singing of the school song.

  Willow Flats, Willow Flats,

  you’re the dearest school to me.

  Willow Flats, Willow Flats,

  we sing praises unto thee.

  When from your doors at last we go,

  we will ever love thee so.

  Oh, to thee we tip our hats,

  dear Wil-low Flats.

  I looked up into the bleachers and found Opal standing between Tacy and Cheryl. They had their arms wound around each other’s waists and were swaying to the words of the song. I couldn’t tell whether Opal was crying, but Tacy’s shoulders were shaking, and she was wiping her eyes with every other word, carrying on like she expected to die that night and would never see Opal and Cheryl again.

  The choir director waved her arms and shouted into her microphone, “One more time, Warriors! Really sing out this time!”

  “Willow Flats,” I sang,

  Willow Flats,

  you’re the dumbest school to me.

  Willow Flats, Willow Flats,

  how lame can one place be?

  When from your doors today I flee,

  you have seen the last of me.

  Don’t wait for me to tip my hat

  to Wil-low Flats.

  It’s amazing how singing can make a person feel so great.

  Mr. Riley blew his whistle, the final bell rang, and we stampeded for the buses, yelling and whooping. Opal caught up with me just before I reached the driveway.

  “Tell Aunt Julia I’ve gone with Cheryl and Tacy to the drugstore for a Coke, okay?”

  “Don’t be late,” I said. “Daddy’s coming tomorrow.”

  “Do you think I’d forget that?” Opal said.

  I climbed on the bus and took my usual seat behind Sunday. She grinned at me. “Julia says your daddy will be here tomorrow. I’ll bet you’re excited.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen him. I can’t wait to go home.”

  “Well, don’t you go leaving town without saying good-bye, you hear?”

  “I won’t. I still owe you twenty dollars.”

  Sunday laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

  We talked all the way to Aunt Julia’s. When we got there, Sunday opened the door and said, “See you, Garnet.”

  Opal came in before supper. We helped Aunt Julia make chicken salad and iced tea, and afterward we went upstairs to pack. Opal slept like the dead that night, but I couldn’t settle down. I hardly slept at all, and the next morning when I heard Aunt Julia banging around in the kitchen, I got up and went down to help her prepare a feast in honor of Daddy’s homecoming.

  Aunt Julia cooked two kinds of meat, platters of vegetables, a coconut cake, and a lemon meringue pie. Between the chores she assigned to me—beating egg whites and peeling potatoes—I paced back and forth to the window, watching for Daddy’s truck.

  “Settle down, Garnet,” Opal said after my umpteenth trip. She had slept late, then spent an hour fixing her hair. “You’re wearing a path in the rug.”

  “Let her be,” Aunt Julia said. “She’s just anxious to see her daddy.”

  “Well, so am I,” Opal said. “But a watched pot never boils.”

  “Garnet, set the table for me,” Aunt Julia said. “And don’t forget the iced tea spoons.”

  I was in the kitchen, getting knives and spoons out of the silverware drawer, when the screen door squeaked open and Daddy yelled, “Hey! Anybody home?”

  You might expect I would take off like a shot and throw myself into Daddy’s arms, but sudden shyness held me back. Opal grabbed my hand, and I saw that she was nervous too. Our fingers weaved together and we went out to see Daddy.

  He stood there in a new pair of jeans, his favorite cowboy boots, and a
brown striped shirt I remembered from last summer. His hair was cropped short like he’d just joined the Marines, and he wore a black patch over one eye. The skin on his cheek was tight and shiny, like plastic. I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the shock I was feeling inside. Then he grinned. It was a little lopsided, but still it was my daddy’s grin. He opened his arms, and my emotions rushed out like water over a dam. I fell into his arms, sobbing.

  He wrapped one arm around me and the other one around Opal, and we held on for a long time, taking in his familiar smells of hair tonic and spearmint. Daddy took my face in his hands and brushed away my tears with his thumbs. “Look at you,” he said softly. “You grew up while my back was turned. You sure are a sight for sore eyes, Garnet Hubbard.” He kissed the top of Opal’s head. “You too, princess.”

  Aunt Julia said, “I prayed for you every night, Duane. I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “I appreciate that, Julia. And everything you’ve done for the girls.”

  Aunt Julia looked like she was about to cry, and Daddy’s good eye looked wet too. He cleared his throat, cocked his head, and changed the subject before we all started crying again. “Is it wishful thinking, or do I smell roast beef?”

  “Come and see,” I said, grateful that Daddy had lightened our mood.

  He laughed his world-famous squinty-eyed laugh, and I wasn’t afraid anymore. Later we would talk about Mama and how our lives would be different without her, but right then all that mattered was that I had my daddy back. The fire had altered him on the outside, but nothing, not even losing Mama, had changed his heart.

  “Hey, girls …,” he began as we headed to the dining room.

  Opal said, “Come on, Dad. Let’s hear it.”

  Aunt Julia brought the food to the table. Daddy held her chair for her and we all sat down. Then Daddy said, “I saw this one at a railroad crossing in Slidell. ‘Train approaching, whistle squealing. Pause! Avoid that run-down feeling.’”

  Me and Opal yelled, “Burma Shave!” and Aunt Julia laughed.

  “Pretty funny.” Opal spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate and passed the platter to me. Then she said, “Guess what, Daddy? Garnet’s got a boyfriend.”