Playing by Heart

by Anne Mateer

  I set myself near Rowena. Arms straight over my head, legs wide apart, just like in the picture from the Spalding’s guide. “Now, pass the ball to Bill.”

  Rowena grinned, held the ball at her chest, and pushed it toward Bill. I jerked my arms down, fingers reaching to grab the slippery leather sphere. But it passed too fast. And I twisted too far. I couldn’t stop my momentum. My feet tangled. My knees buckled. I landed in a heap on my side.

  “Oh my goodness! Miss Bowman, are you hurt?” Nannie yanked on my arm, trying to help me up. I pushed to my knees, trying to roll the kink from my neck. Then a larger hand reached down to assist me. I looked up. Into Chet’s grinning face.

  Bill and Rowena snickered behind their hands. I’d look foolish to refuse, so I set my hand in his and hopped up as quickly—and as modestly—as possible. I brushed off my skirt, then turned my attention immediately to the girls. “Obviously, that isn’t quite how it’s done, but you get the idea. Don’t just stand there. Reach for the ball. You have to want possession of it more than the other girls.”

  A picture of Blaze as the ball jumped into my head, the tenacity with which Nannie would defend it or pursue it if another girl wanted possession. The way I felt when Miss Morrison wiggled her fingers and batted her eyes at Chet.

  My heart fluttered, thoughts straying to places I didn’t want them to go. After the basketball season ended, Chet and I wouldn’t have a legitimate excuse to spend time together. I’d be forced to stand aloof, watching other women, women like Miss Morrison, jostle for position beside him at church.

  I ordered the girls back onto the court to try again.

  Of course, after basketball, I’d need to be home more. In just a few weeks, the babe would lie in Jewel’s arms instead of extend her stomach.

  “Better,” I called out. “Now do it again.” I chewed my bottom lip, trying not to look to see where Chet had gone. I didn’t hear him breathing behind me. Had he left? I turned my head, caught his grin from the corner of my eye. I whipped back around, then blew the whistle and dismissed my team. But they didn’t head for the changing rooms.

  “Miss Bowman?” Nannie glanced at the other girls. My body pulled tight. If they teased me about Chet, I’d—

  “Our last game—the one against Edgewise?”

  “Yes? What about it?”

  “My cousin plays on that team and, well, the girls and I were wondering if we—the girls on both teams—could host a supper for the boys—both teams—in the domestic science room after the game. A kind of celebration for all of us reaching the end of the season.”

  “And hopefully to celebrate our boys’ perfect record, too,” Bill said.

  The others nodded.

  My tension eased. “I think that sounds fine. Do you need me to secure permission?”

  “No, we asked Miss Greenwood and she was fine with us using her room. We just wanted you to be there, too. To celebrate with us.”

  “Of course.” I said it matter-of-factly, but my insides melted in the glow of being included. They knew the Lula who got excited over a difficult equation. The Lula who knew—and cared—little about basketball yet had come to value it for their sake. The Lula who taught them music not as a frivolous add-on but a serious pursuit. And they liked her anyway.

  The girls scattered. Chet sauntered toward the boys’ locker room, scanning the gymnasium from one end to the other. I wanted him to pass right on by. I also wanted him to stop, take my hand, stare into my eyes.

  I had no idea what I wanted. I only knew that in spite of the code of conduct my job required, the sight of him set my heart spinning like Russell’s whirligig. But Chet plus me equaled—what?

  Not knowing the solution to an equation tied knots in my stomach. Or did I fear the sum total more?

  “I . . . I had a good time Saturday night.” My voice echoed through the empty gym. I wished I could tug the words back into my mouth, but they lingered there between us.

  He shifted his weight.

  “Your . . . your jaw doesn’t look too bad.”

  He raised his hand, rubbed the place where Archie Clifton’s fist had connected with his face.

  I held my breath. Then his eyes met mine. Sure and steady. My knees weakened. Would this be the end? Or a new beginning?

  Of course we couldn’t be together. Or could we? Couldn’t a girl change her plans, her dreams? Could God be showing me a different way than the one I’d been focused on for so long?

  Words I knew I shouldn’t say scalded my tongue. I had no power to keep them inside. “Would you come to supper at Jewel’s house after the game this Friday?”

  A slow grin lifted his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  30

  CHET

  As I walked into the school building on Thursday, Blaze cavorted around me like an overexcited puppy. “We can win these last two. I know we can, Coach. Me and the guys, we want to win them. For you. And for the Dunn Bulldogs to finally make a name in the state in basketball.”

  His mouth kept moving, but I quit listening the moment I spied Lula, her coat collar pulled up around her slender neck, cheeks bright with cold. I fell into step beside her, Blaze still talking, his head bobbing between mine and Lula’s.

  She glanced at me, smiled bewitchingly. The game on Friday couldn’t be over soon enough for me.

  Principal Gray blocked my way while Lula continued on to her classroom. I watched her descend into the basement before turning my attention to my mentor and friend.

  “Do you have time to talk later today?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. I have a free class period at two.”

  “Fine. Fine.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in my office then.”

  I jogged up the stairs to my classroom, trying to ignore the foreboding poking my gut. Likely he wanted to talk about the last two games. Or maybe Archie Clifton had stirred up trouble over Saturday night’s tussle. Though, of course, he’d punched me, not the other way around.

  Shifting the papers on my desk, I found my schedule, noted my meeting with Principal Gray. Then I turned my attention to mathematics. If only the subject didn’t bring to mind a pretty little music teacher two floors below.

  Standing over me, Principal Gray rubbed two fingers across his crinkled forehead. In all our interactions over the past four years, such an expression had never crossed his face in reference to me. To Miss Delancey, yes. To foolhardy students, yes. My stomach churned.

  “I’ve tried to overlook this, Chet, but several people have spoken to me about your behavior over these past few days, and I fear I can’t ignore it any longer.”

  I stiffened. “My behavior, sir?” The encounter with Archie Clifton rose up in my mind. I would not let that man bully me the way he did his son. “I stand behind everything I said to Mr. Clifton.”

  Principal Gray shook his head. “Not Mr. Clifton, Chet. Actually, I applaud you and Miss Bowman for standing up to the man. And therein lies the problem.”

  My heart sank. I should have protected Lula from the undignified fray. I’d spent all my energy berating myself for my carelessness. I’d stayed on the ground too long. Put her in harm’s way.

  Yes, she’d held her own. I’d thanked God for her strength of character more than once. And thanked Him that she didn’t seem to hold my actions against me as I’d feared she might. “I know I should have stepped in earlier. I’m sorry.”

  Principal Gray sighed and sat. “You still don’t understand, do you?’

  I blinked at him, bewildered.

  “You and Miss Bowman spent the evening dancing with only one another, then you sat together without any other company.”

  What in heaven’s name was he accusing us of? My mind blanked, his words bouncing off the surface like a basketball off a wooden floor.

  Then I swallowed. He was suggesting exactly the thing I’d intended when I invited her to sit with me that evening. She’d been cautious. Now I remembered. And yet she’d let go of her reservations. Why?
I thought back, trying to picture the circumstances. Jewel and Bo leaving. Lula looking out over the dance floor.

  Bitsy and Carl.

  “Yes, we danced together, just like other female teachers danced with male ones.”

  Please, God, don’t let me have ruined everything.

  “Yes, but your . . . exclusivity indicated more than a working relationship. You were observed huddled together, alone, in a dim corner. And seen leaving together in your automobile, too.”

  “With my mother sitting between us!”

  Principal Gray’s expression softened. “I know, Chet. I’m not saying I agree with the insinuations. I like Miss Bowman. And I think of you as a son. But the rules of conduct are more strict for a female teacher. And they exist for this very reason. We must have no hint of moral impropriety among our teaching staff. The school board is insistent about that.”

  Everything in me wanted to fight back, to prove our integrity. But I knew it would do no good. Unlike Miss Delancey, Lula wasn’t deliberately flirting with me. No, it was the other way around this time. If I didn’t amend my behavior, Lula would find herself without a job. Without a reference. With a stain on her record I feared would be impossible to remove. I couldn’t do that to her, no matter the cost to my own heart.

  I pushed up from my seat. “There is nothing untoward happening between Miss Bowman and me. We work together. Nothing more. And I assure you, we will not be seen in each other’s company, except on the basketball court, ever again.”

  He nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  I couldn’t focus on my final class of the day. Nor could I bring myself to visit the gymnasium during the girls’ practice, no matter how much I wanted to see Lula. Just see her. For when we spoke, I’d have to do what was best for us both. I’d have to tell her we couldn’t spend time together.

  By the time I reached the gym, the girls were scattering, the boys arriving. I chatted with Virgil. Then Flip. Then I sent them off to change.

  The boulder sitting on my chest reminded me of the day Clay’s draft notice came. The disappointment of knowing I wouldn’t be the one off on an adventure, redeeming the family name. I would be the one to do the hard thing. The right thing.

  Like now.

  I darted behind the bleachers, bowed my head, and begged God for the strength to let go. After all, Lula had made it clear she had every intention of returning to her other life once the school year ended. When I finished talking to God, I peered through the slats. Lula was on her way toward the door, her neck craning this way and that.

  Hope tried to rise. I mashed it down, refusing to let myself be weakened. Best get this done. Quickly.

  Long strides carried me around the seats. I met her at the door. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  She smiled up at me, open, eager. I looked at my feet. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I must regretfully decline your dinner invitation.”

  I heard her intake of breath and raised my eyes.

  She stared, parted lips trembling just a bit. “Maybe—maybe another time, then? Next week perhaps?”

  I stared at a spot on the wall behind her. “I’m sorry. I can’t. You understand.”

  Confusion flickered across her face. “No, I don’t understand. Perhaps you ought to explain.”

  How could I make it clear I didn’t desire to end our relationship? To admit aloud that others believed us to be “keeping company” seemed improper.

  When the light in her eyes dimmed to something I recognized as resentment, my mouth turned as dry as chalk. I wanted to tell her I’d made a mistake—of course, I would come to dinner at her house. But I couldn’t. To cause the death of her future, her dreams, would be to prove myself a greater coward than my father.

  31

  LULA

  “Back already?” Jewel pressed the heel of her hand into the lump of bread dough on the kitchen table. “I figured you’d be at least another hour.”

  I couldn’t look at my sister. Not after her excitement when I’d told her of my dinner invitation to Chet—and his acceptance. She’d squealed and hugged me and squealed again. Then she’d started planning the menu for Friday night. JC had grinned wide, his eyes taking on a spark of life that had been missing for months.

  Two days ago, sheer happiness. Now I ached with remorse that I’d said anything at all. To Chet or to Jewel and her family. My arms and legs felt heavy and swollen. I wanted to creep up the stairs, crawl under the covers, and cry myself to sleep. But I couldn’t. So I kissed Inez on the mouth, rubbed noses with Russell, and pulled Trula’s braid before looking around for JC. A lump sat in my throat. JC would take it the hardest, I feared. I didn’t want his friendship with Chet to tarnish in light of the man’s sudden change of heart toward me.

  “Where’s your brother?” I asked Trula.

  Jewel brushed the flour from her hands, the fine white powder falling like snow to the floor. “He was digging around in the garden. I told him to quit. He yelled that he was tryin’ to help. Then he ran off.”

  I slipped a calico apron over my clothes and lowered my voice. “Remember what I was like after Mama died, Jewel? I seemed to be in everyone’s way. And I was older than JC.”

  Jewel frowned, then rubbed a streak of flour across her nose. “That’s true. I guess I need to pray for more patience.” She divided the bread dough, plopped each piece into a loaf pan, and slid them in the oven. Soon the yeasty smell would permeate the house. Light bread was a rare treat. I wondered what had put Jewel in such a generous mood.

  “You feeling all right?” I quartered the white flesh of potatoes, then dropped them in the pot of water.

  “I’m good.” But she sounded tired.

  “Are you sure?”

  She leaned against the sink. “Trula, go set a record on the phonograph. We need some music around here.”

  My heart lurched. A sappy love song. That would be Jewel’s choice. Something that reminded her of Davy. But I couldn’t bear it. Not today.

  Please, Trula, please. Put on something quiet and soothing. But of course the first notes that crackled thorough the brass speaker confirmed my fears.

  I was jealous and hurt when your lips kissed a rose,

  Or your eyes from my own chanced to stray;

  I have tried all in vain many times to propose,

  Now at last I’ve found courage to say . . .

  Just before Jewel could trill “All the world will be jealous of me,” I threw off my apron and bolted for the door.

  “Lula! Where are you going?” Jewel called after me.

  “I’m going to find JC.”

  I found JC in the livery stable, as I figured I would. But he wasn’t working. He was sitting on a low stool in a dark corner, chin in his hands, dirt streaking his face.

  He didn’t even look up when my boots crunched over the dry straw littering the ground. I knelt next to him, breathing in the peculiar smell of little boy sweat. Like a puppy still wet from a romp in the creek.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  His eyes slashed in my direction, then returned to the ground. “No,” he grumbled through his fingers. But a moment later, his arms dropped to his sides and he turned to face me. “Why can’t she understand I’m the man of the house? I have to help her!”

  Tears clung to his lashes as he blinked. He swiped his face with the sleeve of his coat.

  I reached for his hand. He resisted, then relaxed. “She’s trying, JC. I know she is. You just have to be patient with her.” Like she’s trying to be with you.

  His lips curled into a snarl. “I’ve been trying to help her for months! How long do I have to be patient, Aunt Lula?”

  My mouth twitched, fighting a smile. Likely it already seemed forever since his world had changed. He couldn’t yet comprehend the thought of the years that stretched out in front of him.

  I sat with my back to the weathered boards, draping my skirt over the mountain of my knees. “I know it feels like it’s been a long tim
e, but remember, you’re not even eleven yet. It hasn’t even been a whole year.”

  He slumped against the rough wall of the barn. A horse whinnied two stalls away. I remembered Davy here, working with the horses, the people. He never met a stranger. Rarely wore any expression but a smile. Jewel and JC had Davy the longest and missed him the most.

  I pushed to my feet. “Your mama made bread to go with our potatoes and green beans and bacon for supper. I imagine the house smells mighty fine about now.” I ruffled his unruly hair, tipped his head back. “Let’s go tell her how good it is. I’ll help you practice being patient some more.”

  Before I knew it, he’d pressed himself into me, his spindly arms tight around my waist, his shoulders shaking, tears wetting the front of my dress. “I—just—want—my—daddy—to—come—home.”

  I held him, my throat doughy with emotion. “I know, sweetheart. I wish I could make that happen for you and your mama.”

  His body stilled. “Mr. Vaughn says God can help me, but it’s hard when I can’t see Him.”

  “I understand.” How many times had I felt that way myself? And yet lately, God felt near. Especially when I gave myself over to music. Could JC have something inside him like that? Something that would help him feel the presence of God?

  I hesitated, my own faith so weak through the years, yet growing stronger with every day I’d been back in Dunn. How had I not realized that until now? Even with Chet’s skewer of my heart, this had been a good year. A growing year. One drawing to a close in a few months.

  Time was short. JC needed my help.

  “When do you feel closest to God, JC?”

  He looked up, his face scrunched in thought. “When you play the piano.”

  I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t be here for him forever. But what if Jewel could find her way back to the instrument eventually? That might help them both. Until then, I could oblige. I could use my musical talent for yet another good thing. “Think we have time for a private concert before supper?”