Color the Sidewalk for Me (32 page)

She clucked about, holding out her freckled hands to display how crooked her knuckles were becoming and calling to a worried Mr. Tull that she'd come for her pain medication. “I think once Frank retires next year,” she prattled on, “I may not be far behind him. These fingers a mine just don't want to handle that mail anymore.”

“Dustin Taylor was here just a few minutes ago,” Granddad told her. “Looks like Lee Harding'll be takin' Frank's place.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Nothing like keepin' it in the family.”

Wishing she would leave, I rested one elbow on the counter and went back to staring out the window. That's when I saw the Canders' truck rattle up the street and park at the curb beside Mrs. B.'s car. Both Danny and his daddy were inside.
Oh no,
I thought, not here, not now. I didn't want the likes of Mrs. B. or the school principal's long-necked wife, who was two aisles away comparing toothpaste prices, watching like hawks to see how Danny and I would greet each other. Danny was probably upset already about not being able to come to our house again for supper. And I dreaded even being in the same building with Mr. Cander; the memory of his chasing Danny's mama sent a shiver between my shoulder blades. But I could only watch helplessly as they crossed the sidewalk, Danny's daddy unsteady on his feet. Danny gestured impatiently for him to wait in the truck. Mr. Cander slurred something back loudly. Although his voice was too muffled for me to hear the words, from the angry expression on his face it was clear he wasn't happy with his son telling him what to do.

Stepping inside ahead of his daddy, Danny saw me frozen on my red stool, one hand around the base of a cherry cola. He pulled to a halt, taking in the back of Mr. Lewellyn's head and meeting the gazes of Hank Jenkins and my granddad. Mrs. B. had been patting back her bun when her hand went still, her elbow hanging in midair. “Oh,” she exclaimed under her breath.

“Git on in, boy; what in tarnation you doin'!” Danny's daddy knocked him forward.

Danny regained his footing, remaining in his daddy's way. “Why don't you go back to the truck, sir,” he said in a measured tone, his eyes on me. “I won't be long.”

“Git on, stupid boy!” Mr. Cander pushed him aside.

I saw the anger skitter across Danny's face, knew in that instant what so easily could happen.
Danny, it's okay, I pleaded silently. Hold it in, be strong, don't let him drag you down in front of these people.
Strange how I thought of my mama at that moment. In some ways it would have been worse if she were present. However, in the few seconds' time it took for Anthony Cander to process the scene through his muddled brain, no one did anything but stare—except Granddad, who struggled to slide out of his seat. Mama would have responded more quickly. She'd have thought of something.

“Good afternoon, Danny!” Granddad declared, pasting on a wide smile.

Danny regained his equilibrium. “Good afternoon, sir.” Convention demanded that he approach the booth and shake hands with all the men. “Don't git up. We'll just be a minute here anyway. Afternoon, Mrs. B., Mr. Tull.”

“Hi, Danny!” Kevy jumped off his stool to wrap Danny's chest in a bear hug.

“Hey, Kevin.” He buffed my brother's head with affection.

“When you comin' to supper again?”

I shot a glance at Mrs. Willoughburn, the principal's wife, thinking it wouldn't be long before the whole town knew Danny had visited our house.

“I don't know.” Danny tried to keep his voice light. “Sometime maybe.” Untangling himself from Kevy's grasp, he turned toward me. “Hi, Celia.”

“Hi.”

Mr. Cander ran a black-haired arm under his nose, tasting the sight of me like I was a bottle of his favorite whiskey. “So,” he said with a leer, “this's Celia Matthews, is it?”

“Afternoon, Anthony!” Granddad called in an attempt to capture the man's attention as Danny stepped in front of me.

“Sir, let's go. We can come back later.”

I couldn't help shrinking away, even with Danny between me and his daddy. I knew that my obvious fear of the man would only feed the town's opinion that the Cander and Matthew families mixed like oil and water. But he was so close to me that I could smell the liquor. How could a man drink so much, I wondered, that the alcohol oozed out through his very pores?

“Aw, don' be so uppity. I jus' wanna git a good look at yer girl, tha's all.”

“Daddy!” Danny's voice rose sharply. “We're leavin'
right now.”
Hastily he nodded to Granddad and his friends. Maybe things would have turned out all right if he hadn't been trying so hard to be polite in the midst of his daddy's disparagement. But in the second that he turned to take proper leave of Mrs. B., Anthony Cander reached out a beefy hand to feel my hair. I flinched at his touch, petrified.

“Right purty gal here yer shackin' up with, boy.”

Air caught in my lungs. I'd never heard the term in my life, but there was no mistaking its meaning, particularly amid the horrified gasps from Mrs. B. and the principal's wife. Anthony Cander might just as well have ripped my clothes off right there in the store. I dropped my eyes in mortification.

Even if anyone could have moved in that instant, no one would have been fast enough to stop Danny's furious reaction. Spinning on his heel, he curled his fingers into a fist and let it fly, smashing Anthony Cander squarely in the jaw. Bellowing, Mr. Cander reeled backward, arms flailing, until he hit the wall near the front window, bouncing his head against the wood and sliding to the floor. Danny leaped to him immediately, grabbed the man under the arms, and lurched him toward the door, ignoring his indignant groans.

“I hope you drink yourself to death,” Danny seethed through clenched teeth as he shoved the door open.

We all watched as Danny threw his daddy into the passenger seat of the pickup and slammed the door. Chest heaving, he paused on the sidewalk to run a fumbling hand over his eyes. I watched his face drain of anger, then etch itself in despair. He hesitated, deciding what to do. Then with resolve he straightened his back. Reentered the store and walked over to us. He did not lift his gaze from the floor. “Mr. Bradley.” He fought for steady breath, voice trembling. “I'm most sorry, sir, for the shame I caused you. And I deeply—I humbly ask your forgiveness.” He shifted his head slightly, eyes still at his feet. “Celia”—he slipped into a whisper—“I'm so sorry.”

Pain stabbed through me. It wasn't his fault. He was so willingly taking the shame his daddy had dumped on my head and heaping it on his own. I longed to slide off my stool and hold him, showing the town I didn't care, that Danny was as good and kind as his father was despicable. But I could only nod slightly, lips pressed together.

It was not up to me, however, to absolve Danny. This was up to Granddad, whose lineage and name had been blackened by the disgrace of his only grandgirl. By day's end the whole town would hear about what had happened and Granddad's response. His silence would pronounce that for all Danny's sincerity, he could chance no further dishonor from the Canders. Or he could declare his faith in Danny—despite Anthony Cander's loathsome behavior—by accepting the apology. I turned pleading eyes on him, terrified that I was expecting too much even from the godly man who'd possessed the courage to bring Danny and me together. Deep sadness etched into the laugh lines around his mouth, a slump rounding his shoulders.

Danny had no pride left to wait for a reply. Without another word he started to leave.

Please, Granddad,
I begged, weeping inside.

Granddad lifted his eyes to mine, saw the tears there. He made a sound in his throat. Raised his arm an inch off the table. “Son.”

Danny stopped, turned back.

Slowly the thin, wool-clad arm reached out, offering a hand.

Danny's eyelids flickered. He hesitated, then brought his own hand forward, stepping to the table to clasp Granddad's bony fingers with his own, strong and brown. Shaking the elder man's hand, he gripped it hard, veins standing out along his wrist. His chin quivered as he held on, gratitude bubbling like water from a hot spring.

Then swiftly Danny was gone, returning to his drunken father, who was holding his jaw and moaning his ills as he slumped in the seat of their truck.

Even Granddad's public stand didn't matter in the end. Mama would have none of his forgiveness. Listening to her rave, I almost believed she'd been waiting for something like this to happen, biding her time until an excuse to break Danny and me apart presented itself. Well, she had it now. No more, she announced as I hid my crumpled face in my hands. Danny could not come here; I could not see him at the river.

Not now.

Not ever.

chapter 38

T
he word whispered through Bradleyville, its sibilance a shout. At church hands were laid on my shoulder in unspoken condolence, not for my loss of Danny but for my loss of dignity through the vileness of a drunkard.

Danny did not show his face at school all week. Nor did anyone see his mama in town. I went to school aching to see him, barely hearing the voices of teachers. Mr. Rose smiled sadly at me in the hall. Melissa, Barbara, and Mona could not console me. Bobby Delham failed to hide his triumph, as if I'd be making eyes at him in no time.

I did not know what to do; if I defied Mama, folks would blame it on Danny's influence. By Friday afternoon I couldn't stand it and, while Mama was pulling weeds in the backyard, stole a chance to call him. Mrs. Cander answered and with hesitation put him on the phone. “Danny,” I whispered, “I love you. Please come back to school. Please graduate so you can leave Bradleyville; I know you have to do that now. And the very first day I can follow, I will.”

“Celia, it's no use.” His voice sounded dead.

He finally returned to school the following week at his mama's insistence. Everyone whispered and watched. At lunch Melissa and I sat at the table where Danny usually joined us. When he'd filled his tray, he passed us and sat alone. I had trouble blinking back tears. But I had no trouble firmly picking up my tray and walking over to sit across from him. When I looked at him in defiance, he closed his eyes wearily as if to say now I'd done it, I'd made a public statement, and one way or another he'd pay.

“Danny,” I declared, “no one will keep me away from you. No one.”

Mama was waiting for me on the porch when I arrived home, her eyes simmering heat like white coals. One look at her face and Melissa scurried silently up the street, ponytail bobbing. I drew to a stop, books heavy in my arms, and locked gazes with Mama across the length of our sidewalk. “That didn't take long,” I ventured challengingly.

“No, it certainly didn't.”

Inside I dropped my books in a heap on the dining table. She put a fist against her hip. “I don't want you seein' him even at school; haven't I made myself plain enough?”

“You can't stop me.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can't.We're not doin' anything, Mama, except eatin' lunch together. What's the big deal? Who cares?”

“I care. Your daddy cares.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Daddy doesn't care! Granddad doesn't care! You're the only one who does. And why, just tell me that? Danny hasn't done one thing wrong. He can't help it that his father's the way he is. Danny's not like that and you know it, Mama. But his daddy isn't why you're not lettin' me see him, anyway; that's just an excuse. The real reason's just because he wants to get out of Bradleyville.”

“I don't have to explain my reasons to you; I'm your mama! The whole town's talkin'. I won't have shame brought down on all our heads.”

“Shame for what? What happened was Mr. Cander's fault, not mine or Danny's.”

“Celia, you should be ashamed for defying me! What kind of Christian behavior is that? And while your granddad's doin' poorly. I've got to deal with losing him; I don't want to lose you too. Can't you see I'm trying to protect you? I understand your feelings much more than you know. But the longer you carry on with Danny, even just talkin' to him at school, the more it'll hurt when it comes time for a boy to come calling and he can't be it.”