Capture the Wind for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  How could I possibly stand in his way, when I’d give anything to have more days with Greg?

  At 5:30, heart bumping with exhilaration, I trotted once more up the Matthews’ steps. Greg pulled me inside the house, saying I needed to hear driving directions to our picnic spot from Celia.

  “Do you know where Jake’s Rock is on the river?” she asked. “A ways up from the swimming hole?”

  I nodded.

  “Go to Jake’s Rock, turn left, and walk upriver around a bend until you see two large oak trees with thick leaves. It’s a great spot, and it’ll get you out of the sun.”

  We drove through downtown Bradleyville and across the tracks, then turned right toward the river. Greg and I had a bit of a trek, since we had to park in a field and trudge toward the Columbia River over a well-worn path. Greg had placed a bag of cookies that Celia had baked for us in my cooler, and he carried it for me. I toted an old blanket. We found the trees without a hitch. Celia was right; it was a beautiful spot. I wondered why I’d never thought to explore this part of the river before.

  “How’d Celia know about this place?” I asked as we spread out the blanket beneath the cool shade. The river sparkled in the sun, a wide ribbon of gray-blue.

  Greg sat on the blanket, holding out his hand to pull me down beside him. “I tell you if you do one thing,” he said.

  “Name it.”

  “Kiss me first.”

  I scrunched my nose, pretending to think it over. “Well, I guess so.”

  He pulled me close, and I swear the world stopped as his mouth met mine. Chills marched up and down my spine despite the warmth of the day. I’d never get tired of this, I thought, not if I could kiss him every day for the rest of my life.

  But we didn’t have the rest of my life. We had one day.

  I pushed that bit of reality away. “Now you have to tell me.”

  He scooted to sit cross-legged, facing me, and laced both of his hands in mine. “Celia and my brother fall in love here.”

  I blinked at him. “Oh.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “They meet here each Saturday. Their special place.”

  I gazed at Greg, thinking about the past and present. Wondering again if Greg had any idea that my daddy’s being third party in Danny and Celia’s relationship had almost cost us the chance to meet.

  “You are thinking what?” Greg asked.

  My head shook slightly.

  “Please. Tell me.”

  How could I? If he didn’t know what Celia had done, who was I to tell him? “Your brother knows you’ve been seeing me, right?” I hedged. “I mean, I know you talked to him on the phone, but did you tell him . . . who I am?”

  “Yes. Celia already tell him that you and I meet.”

  “Oh.” I searched his face. “So what did he say?”

  “I tell you.” He grinned. “He says Bradleyville girls are best.”

  I focused on our hands, moving my fingers between his.

  “Jackie? You are going away again. What is wrong?”

  I remained silent.

  “Jackie?”

  “I don’t—. I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with us,” I said, “so it doesn’t matter. I was just thinking about your brother and Celia, and how he left and they stayed apart for so long.”

  Greg’s words from last night whirled like a sudden breeze through my mind. Danny—sitting Greg down before he left Greece, telling him things about living as a Christian, traveling, girls. How to watch myself. Maybe Danny had told him everything. Given him warnings about love, using his own past as an example.

  “You think about this why?” Greg asked quietly.

  Something in his voice—a hint of suspicion? As if I knew something I shouldn’t? I thought of Greg’s apparent discomfort when we’d discussed Danny and Celia on the phone. Then thought again of his words from last night—and realized the truth. He knew. He had to. Probably more details than I did.

  My shoulders drew in. The intimacy of the topic momentarily caught my tongue. “I know about . . . what happened,” I whispered.

  He eased back, defensiveness flicking across his brow. The expression told me how close Greg felt to his brother and Celia. He turned to gaze out over the river. “Celia is right. People in Bradleyville do not forget things.”

  “No,” I blurted, worried that I’d upset him. “It’s not that at all. I didn’t know anything until I overheard Daddy and Katherine talking, and—”

  “Why your baba talk about this?” he demanded. “Something so long ago?”

  “No, no, they weren’t really talking about that. They were talking about Daddy when he was in high school and what he and Celia did and how Katherine knew about it—”

  My words broke off at the look on his face. He angled his head, frowning at me, eyes narrowing. “What your baba does?”

  Something clunked solidly in my chest. I stared at him, my mouth still open. He made no move.

  “What your baba does?”

  Warmth flushed through my body. I couldn’t hide the horror on my face over what I’d assumed, what I’d done.

  Greg dropped my hands and pushed to his feet. He grasped the back of his neck and propelled away from me to the trunk of the oak tree, where he stood, staring right through it. I managed to rise, then hung there, miserably watching. How shocked I had been, hearing Daddy and Katherine’s conversation. How shocked Greg must be now, putting the details together, realizing he’d been in the home of his brother’s rival.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Greg’s hand slid to his battered cheek. My mouth pressed at the movement. What was he thinking—that he was sorry he’d helped my daddy fight?

  “Greg?”

  He stared at the tree.

  “Greg!”

  Slowly, he turned to me, jaw flexed. I could see his shirt rise and fall with his breathing. “My brother does not say who. He just tells me his mistake, and then Celia does the same. An old friend in Bradleyville, Danny says, who always loves her. For this Danny and Celia stay apart. For this—your baba—my brother pays for seventeen years.”

  Now wait just aminute, I thought. Seventeen years apart? There had to be more to this story, and my daddy could hardly take all the blame. “Celia did it for revenge,” I declared. “She started it. Daddy was dating my mama, and they’d have been just fine, but Celia apparently got some idea one night. You think your brother’s the only one who paid? My mama must have been heartbroken. Think about it! Her boyfriend and her best friend!”

  His bruised cheek mottled a deeper red. “Your mamma and baba—they get married. All those years my brother stays alone.”

  “What are you tryin’ to say, Greg, that my daddy’s to blame for that? Just where was Celia all that time?”

  My anger seemed to bounce right off him. His eyes closed, a sick expression stealing over his face. “Why she doesn’t tell me? She hears I should meet you from Miss Jessie, but she never says. And Danny—what he is feeling? I go to your baba’s house, and I am hit. Trouble again.” He ran a hand over his face. “I cannot believe it.”

  “They didn’t tell you because they didn’t want you to know,” I retorted. “Obviously.” Tears bit my eyes. I could not bear to think Celia and Danny had been gracious about our meeting while Daddy had reacted so badly. I hoped they hadn’t. I hoped they’d had to fight their own memories just as he had. “And Daddy didn’t want me to know, either. But now we both do. So what are we gonna do about it, huh, Greg?” My voice pinched. “We gonna fight each other now, just because the three of them were so stupid?”

  His face blurred. Even so, I saw the hurt and shame trailing across his cheeks. With a sudden sigh, he moved to hold me against his chest. “No. We do not fight. I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m sorry.”

  I grasped the fabric of his shirt, my eyes squeezed shut against the tears.

  “You are not mad at me?”

  “No,” I sniffed. “Just don’t be mad
at me.”

  We stood there hugging, my throat all balled up. It occurred to me he’d had to comfort me three days in a row. What a baby he must think I was.

  Not until we sat again on the blanket, hands clasped, did we realize the extent of the blessing Celia had bestowed upon me and Greg—telling us about her and Danny’s special place. Greg and I talked quietly about what we’d heard of the past, piecing together details from his brother’s life and Celia’s, and my parents’. So much pain they’d caused each other. Still, they were now letting us be together.

  “Danny only tells me so I will be careful,” Greg said. “He asks Celia first if he can. He knows I will face much, like him. He says, ‘You cannot take your eyes off Christ one minute.’” He smiled. “My brother likes to say that.”

  I nodded. Now that everything lay out in the open, seemed to me it wasn’t such a bad thing for us to know. “I’m so glad Celia shared her place with us. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  He gazed at me, warmth in his eyes. Then a thought flickered over his brow, and he turned to focus distractedly on the river. A few notes hummed deep in his throat. His eyes danced as he hummed it again, mouthing a few words.

  I moved his hand gently, recapturing his attention. He shrugged as if I’d caught him at something. “What were you doing?”

  “Ah. Sorry. I am . . . writing a song.”

  “Oh. I see.” Not really, but what else was I supposed to say. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

  “Suddenly, it comes. I watch, pay attention to things. Then sometimes—I think something. Usually just words, and the tune comes later.”

  I realized at that moment, even after all our talking, how little I knew about Greg’s world. Soon he’d return to it—a world of singing and concerts and fame. Girls screaming for him. I couldn’t begin to imagine it. And I wondered if he’d be the same person then as he was with me. Could he follow his brother’s advice and keep his eyes on Christ?

  As the sun set, ribboning bronze and red upon the river, we ate and spoke of easier subjects. I wanted to hear every detail of the songs they’d sing on tour, how some of them had been written since their CD had released. He told me about the special effects—the smoke, the laser lights, and the staging. He even pulled me to my feet and showed me some of the choreography to a song. I caught on to the steps quickly.

  “Hey,” he said, “you are good.”

  I tossed hair back from my face, pulling in deep breaths. Boy, was I out of shape. “No big deal, I was in gymnastics for years.”

  He caught me around the waist and kissed me, both of us still breathing hard. “There is much I don’t know about you,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

  Darkness would fall soon. We packed up our stuff and trekked back to the car, my heart wanting to sing and wail at once. We had one more day, and I wanted a million. Four days of knowing Greg, and already I could not stand to think of life in Bradleyville without him. Other than his concert in Lexington—if Daddy let me go—when would I ever see him again? How could I just live as before in quiet Bradleyville, worrying about whether some boy at school would ever ask me out?

  It wouldn’t matter, I told myself. If I couldn’t be with Greg, I didn’t want to be with anyone.

  He caught sight of my expression as we placed the blanket and cooler in the car. “What is it?”

  I knew that he already knew the answer. He wrapped his arms around me, gentling his fingers into my hair. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I don’t want you to go either.”

  Air seeped from his throat. “We will see each other tomorrow. Promise me.”

  I promised. But never did I dream how it would happen.

  chapter 31

  Katherine was still at our house when I returned, sliding a sheet of cookies into the oven. “Have a good time?” she asked, her sad smile betraying just how well she read the answer. Hoo-fah for her if she can figure it out, I thought as I threw away the trash from our meal. Did I have a good time? Yes, Katherine, it was wonderful and it was miserable, like falling into the perfect dream world, then being told you must leave.

  “Where’s Daddy?” I asked her.

  “In Robert’s bedroom, talking to him.” She punched in ten minutes on the timer.

  “Why?”

  “Robert seems kind of down. I think he’s depressed about his leg.”

  Poor Robert. I’d be willing to bet he was depressed about more than his leg. I wondered if Katherine had any idea how hurt he’d been after hearing the truth about her. I knew Robert would never admit it to Daddy or her, or even to me. He’d hold on to his pain in that place deep within himself, the place that guarded his emotions like a jealous lover.

  I leaned down to pet Winnie. Her eyes closed in sheer bliss as I scratched around her collar. Sounds from the television filtered in from the family room. I stuck my head around the corner and spotted Clarissa splayed on the couch, her bare feet on the cushions, knees akimbo.

  “Jackie.” Katherine laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’d like to talk to you. We haven’t had the chance since Friday night, and I think we should get some things out in the open.”

  Here it came. Her explanations, my expected forgiveness. My mind threatened to burst already with whirling thoughts of Greg and me. All I wanted to do was hide in my room and stare at his picture. Try to figure how to get my life back on keel once he left. “Okay.”

  If she heard the reluctance in my voice, she didn’t show it. “Um, where can we go?”

  No place but my bedroom. My sacred room, with Greg’s picture on the wall and the remembrance of Mama sitting upon my bed during our talks. I ushered Katherine in and shut the door, inviting her with a reluctant arm to take my desk chair, then perched on the edge of my bed, waiting. Telling myself she would not charm her way back into my heart.

  She turned the chair around to face me, clasping her hands in her lap. The neckline of her white blouse contrasted against her tanned skin, oh-so-perfectly-subtle blusher glowing bronze on her cheeks. Katherine’s presence fairly radiated in my room, making me feel plain and small. Greg’s eyes stared at me from his picture, and suddenly I wondered what he saw in me. Surely he would forget me as soon as he’d gone, as soon as he found himself allured and wanted by girls as beautiful as Katherine.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and regarded me for a moment, as if not quite sure how to begin. I would not help her.

  “Jackie, I promise I will be honest with you if you’ll be the same with me. It’s the only way we can get past . . . what happened Friday night.” She searched my face. “Okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay.” She focused on her hands. “I know you think I don’t deserve your daddy,” she began slowly. “You’re right. I don’t claim to deserve him. I’ve made a mess of most of my life. He knows about it now—all of it. I don’t want to dwell on my past; I just want to go on. But because my past slapped you in the face, slapped us all, I’m willing to tell you anything you want to know. As hard as it is for me, I think lingering secrets and doubts between us will only continue to hurt us both.”

  I slipped out of my shoes and crossed my ankles, rubbing my feet together.

  “Can you do this for us both, Jackie? For once, just come out and say what you’re thinking?”

  The question surprised me. Robert was the one who hid his feelings, I thought, not I.

  So why did my mouth refuse to move?

  Here’s your chance, Jackie, a voice inside whispered. Let her have it. Why not? She’d certainly asked for it.

  “Okay.” I gazed at Katherine straight on, feeling my indignation rise. “I want to know if it’s true that you had lots of boyfriends in a row, like that man said. I want to know why you left them. And why, in those eleven years that you were gone, you moved from one job and one place to another, like you just got bored.” My face warmed, but I pressed ahead. “Most of all, I want to kn
ow what’s goin’ to keep you from up and leavin’ Daddy the way you did everybody else.”

  Katherine had the decency to look ashamed. “Fair questions,” she said quietly. She pressed back and surveyed the ceiling with a sigh. “Do you know that my daddy, Jason King, isn’t my biological father?”

  Like this had anything to do with it. “Yes.”

  She ignored my impatient tone. “My biological father left my mother before I was born. I grew up knowing it, but not until I was fourteen did I really start thinking about it. I love my daddy, and he loves me, too, as much as he does Derek. Still, I wondered about the man who would leave my mother and me and never look back. In my teenage years I felt rebellious and closed in, like there was this big, wide world out there just waiting for me to grab hold of it. I wasn’t like most of my friends, and I blamed my thirst for adventure on this unknown man and his blood running through my veins. As I told you, I left when I was eighteen. And you’re right, Jackie, I’d stay in one job for a while, and with one boyfriend for a while, and then go on to something else. Always thinking the key to my contentment would be around the next bend. Always afraid that the commitment wasn’t quite right for me somehow. I . . .” She hesitated, then pushed on. “I partied too much and ran around too much. But a life like that gets tiring. Finally, I just wanted to come home.”

  I eyed her, thinking of Greg’s mama. “Did any of those boyfriends abuse you? Especially the one who came here?”

  “No.” She pressed her lips together as though she almost wished for such an excuse. “He had a temper, as you saw. But then, I wasn’t all that easy to live with myself.”

  Live with. The words pulsed. I could only glare at her, Trent Baxter’s title for her echoing in my head. Katherine knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Jackie,” she ventured, “I’m not proud of the things I did. Shortly after I came back, God really spoke to me in that church service. I asked his forgiveness, and I turned my life back over to Christ, as I’d done when I was a kid, but then had walked away from it. I’m . . . I’m different now. I don’t want my old lifestyle.”