Playing by Heart

by Anne Mateer

  My jaw tightened. “You can’t help her, Bo. She misses her husband.”

  His chin dropped to his chest. “I know. But I’d hoped . . .”

  For the first time, I took a good look at Bo the man, not the pawn in Jewel’s matchmaking game. My heart hadn’t grown so hard as to disregard his feelings. In spite of my vows to abstain from marriage, Jewel hadn’t made any such vows of her own, not even in her deepest grief. My sister had flourished as a wife and a mother. She’d been happy. She deserved to be happy like that again.

  “You won’t tell her, will you?” He sounded like JC asking me not to let Jewel know he’d eaten the last sliver of pie. My heart turned as soft as fresh bread. At least I no longer feared Jewel pushing him in my direction. I only hoped she wouldn’t object to me pushing him toward her. A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. For all the times she’d badgered me about men, it was time I returned the favor.

  Another game, another loss for my girls. I didn’t stay to watch the boys’ game. The sight of Chet’s friendliness with everyone but me cut too deeply.

  On Saturday afternoon, I filled the church with the melodious hymns Pastor Reynolds had selected for Sunday’s service. They felt different under my hands now. More than a collection of notes on a page. In the agony of losing the Donally Award—and losing Chet’s friendship—my soul opened to the music like rain-soaked ground under a trowel.

  And yet my senses remained on alert, wondering if my mysterious visitor would slink into the shadows today. But for the better part of an hour, I played to an empty room and for my own satisfaction—and that of Pastor Reynolds, ensconced in his small office behind the sanctuary.

  A creak stilled my hands as my head snapped toward the back of the room.

  JC shielded his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the tall windows lining the walls. “Aunt Lula? You coming home for supper?”

  “Yes. I’m just finishing up.”

  “I’ll wait.” He slipped into the last pew, much like my other solitary listener. I ran through the final hymn with half my attention on the music, half on my nephew. I couldn’t deny that Chet’s time with him had helped him work through some of his grief. Their relationship made me happy. Except when it made me sad. Regretful of my forgetfulness.

  The notes swirled about the room. JC’s face relaxed while my guilt heightened. I needed to help my nephew, too. Not leave it all to Chet. Maybe that was the lesson God wanted me to learn. To pour my heart into my own family, not lose it to a stranger.

  As JC and I walked home together, I asked about school and the horses in the livery stable. His eyes lit with pleasure as he described each one—not only their appearance but their personality.

  “Aunt Lula, can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.” I rested my hand on his head as we walked.

  “Do you think Uncle Bo is sweet on Mama?”

  I hoped my face didn’t show surprise. Was this why he’d been so antagonistic toward his father’s best friend? I hadn’t realized a boy his age would be aware of such things.

  My observant nephew needed to know the truth. But Bo had revealed his heart to me in confidence. I had to honor that, too. I prayed for wise words. “Your daddy and Bo knew each other a long time, even before your daddy met your mama.”

  “I know. Daddy told me they met just afore the turn of the century, after Oklahoma Territory opened up and both their families came for the free land.”

  “I imagine that’s right. Anyway, Bo knows that with your daddy gone to heaven, your mama needs a friend to help take care of her.”

  “She has you. And me. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Bo’s nearer her own age than you or I. That makes a difference sometimes.” I had no intention of getting into the complexities of the relationship between a man and woman with a ten-year-old boy. “What makes you think he’s sweet on her?”

  His shoulder lifted, then fell again. “Sometimes he looks at her the same way Bobby Fellman looks at Maria Tanner.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, and we both laughed. But I didn’t want to lose the moment to plow a smoother path for Bo, should he need it.

  “You know, someday your mama might decide to marry again. It’s hard to be alone with five children.”

  JC stopped, looked up at me with solemn eyes. “I know. Maria Tanner’s mama died three years ago and she got a new mama for Christmas that year. I figured I’d better look out.”

  “I’m glad you realize it’s a possibility, but don’t set yourself against it just yet. Remember, God knows what you need even if you don’t think you need it.”

  JC shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and scowled. “Mr. Vaughn told me the very same thing.”

  Don took us for a quick visit to his ranch on Sunday afternoon. When Daddy heard my voice, he turned his face to the wall. Janice told me not to think too much of it. Don’s wife, Audra, said he barely took food now. Which didn’t make me feel any better.

  I stayed up late after we got home, scrubbing floors, trying to tire out my body so it would close down my mind and let me sleep. But a late night meant a groggy Monday morning. Just before noon, I scrubbed musical notes from the chalkboard with undue vigilance and prepared to work on indirect proofs with Nannie and a couple of the other girls on the team. But the thought of mathematics no longer brought the same satisfaction as before. Now it fueled visions of Chet instead of Professor Clayton.

  I hadn’t had much experience with men, except in my high school years. Back then, I’d willingly been the scatterbrained, happy-go-lucky girl, following Jewel’s example of surrounding myself with laughter and music, ignoring anything that required too much contemplation. At least until the day I’d overheard Wes Granger talking to his friends. The day I’d returned to school after Mama’s funeral.

  A dark cloud had shrouded my world as I’d trudged off to school that autumn morning, an ache as deep as an oil well in my chest. Jewel had Davy to hold her while she cried. I thought I’d have my boyfriend Wes, but except for a brief nod at the funeral, he hadn’t comforted me.

  Maybe he was afraid of my brothers and sisters. Or Daddy, who had turned so gruff as to frighten even me. Maybe Wes feared the tears themselves. We were, after all, only sixteen.

  With my head hung low, I crossed the spongy grass toward the corner of the schoolhouse, all of us still in one building in this brand new state of Oklahoma. I pressed my books against my chest to hold in the pain of a world without Mama. When I heard the voices, I stopped, not wanting to be noticed. Then Wes’s familiar cadence rose above the rest. My heart soared as I listened, my name on his lips.

  “Fruity Lu? She’s fun, but I’d never settle down with a girl like that. Likely she’d forget to add sugar to the jam or to darn my socks.”

  My heart slammed to the ground and I froze. Wes couldn’t have meant those words.

  “Life would never be dull,” one of the other boys said. Several chuckled. Heat rushed into my face. I swayed, put a hand on the schoolhouse wall and held myself steady. Surely Wes would defend me.

  He laughed instead. “My brother says there are girls you have fun with and girls you marry. And if you marry the fun ones, they’ll plague you with wanting to go dancing and be romanced all the days of their lives.”

  I took one step backward. Then another. After the third, I turned and fled to Jewel’s house, ran past the spinning record on the Victrola and up the stairs to the room they’d declared mine. I threw myself on the bed and sobbed.

  An hour later, I sat up, dried my tears. With Mama gone, I had to take care of myself. And I knew how. Daddy had always scolded me to leave off parties and dancing and music and apply myself to my studies. It was the only thing he’d ever wanted for his children—an education. If I made Daddy proud, I wouldn’t need any other man’s approval.

  Not long after that, the predictability of mathematics filled the gaping hole in my heart. I grasped hold of its regularity and refused to let go. And sure enough, Daddy noticed. He talked
to me when I came home for visits. He bragged about his little girl to everyone who would listen.

  My students entered the room with their usual clatter, bringing me back to life as Miss Bowman instead of Fruity Lu. The first thing I noticed was Nannie. She slouched into a desk near the back, arms crossed over her chest. The other girls glanced her way, but none spoke to her. Nannie didn’t look at them. Her stare was fixed on something far beyond the classroom walls.

  Had there been a rift between the girls? Over what? My stomach churned as we walked through the mathematical concepts, Bess and Foxy breaking into smiles of comprehension, Gracie and Rowena wrinkling their noses when they didn’t understand. When I dismissed them, Nannie bolted for the door like one of Don’s unbroken colts.

  I pulled Rowena back from the others. “What’s wrong with Nannie?”

  Rowena rolled her eyes. “Blaze. He says he’s quitting school and enlisting.”

  I shot a glance to the doorway where she’d disappeared. No wonder the girl was upset. Chet would be, too, when he found out. I lowered my voice. “Who else knows about this?”

  Rowena shrugged. “No one, I don’t think. We only know because Bill overheard Nannie and Blaze arguing about it. Can I go now?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Rowena.”

  She scurried away, then turned back, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Nannie doesn’t even know we heard.”

  I couldn’t promise her that. This was too important. I had to do what I deemed best for both Nannie and Blaze. “You can trust me.”

  I held my breath, hoping that would satisfy.

  It did. Rowena grinned and flounced away.

  Blaze, quitting school? I shoved my papers into my satchel. Chet might live and breathe basketball, but I knew Blaze’s graduation held just as high a place in his heart.

  26

  CHET

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I paced my empty classroom. I had things to do before basketball practice, but I couldn’t seem to settle into any of them. Lula continued to distract me, to haunt my dreams, even after I’d caught her in another man’s arms. I needed to put her out of my mind, but my heart refused to cooperate.

  The door clicked open. I spun around.

  Lula.

  My palms turned slick. I stumbled over my own feet trying to get to her, welcome her in.

  She clasped her hands at her waist, her eyes stretching wide. “It’s Blaze.”

  I tensed, suddenly rooted to the ground. “What about him?”

  She wet her lips, took a deep breath. “He’s quitting school to enlist. I thought you should know.”

  Enlist? Surely she was wrong. Surely—

  She turned as if to leave. In a rush of adrenaline, I charged ahead, barricaded my body between her and the door.

  She pulled up, stepped backward. I stopped close enough to her to speak quietly, far enough away to keep her from diverting my attention from Blaze. “How do you know this?”

  Her gaze slid to the floor. “Nannie was upset during our tutoring today. One of the other girls told me they overhead Nannie and Blaze arguing about his decision.”

  I dropped into the closest desk, holding my head in my hands. “I told him not to. I asked him to be patient.”

  “I’m sorry.” The gentle touch of her hand on my shoulder drew my head up. She no longer stood stiff and aloof. More like uncertain and tremulous. Over being here with me or the news about Blaze?

  I groaned. “I want him to graduate. To know that he isn’t stupid or worthless like his father tells him. When he has that diploma, he’ll have a foundation no one can ever take away from him. He’ll have a shot at a better life.”

  Lula pressed a hand to her mouth, lines appearing on her forehead and around her eyes as if I’d said something that upset her. But I had no idea what.

  I stood, shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my trousers. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll . . . figure something out.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered. Then she gave me one of her rare smiles. I reached for the desk, dizzy at the sight. “I thought you should know.” She stepped toward the door again.

  “Wait,” I said.

  She bit her lip. I closed the gap between us.

  “Will you help me? With Blaze?”

  “Help you? How?”

  “If you and I and Nannie all talk to Blaze together, maybe we can make him see reason.”

  A tiny frown tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she nodded.

  “You get Nannie and meet Blaze and me after the boys’ practice. In the gym. Will you do that?”

  “All right.” Her frown deepened. “But we’ll need to give him another option to consider, not just ‘Don’t do it.’”

  I grinned. A smart girl, and not just in the classroom. I glanced at my wristwatch. “I’ll think of something.”

  By the time the boys’ practice ended this evening, I needed a foolproof plan to keep Blaze in school.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” My voice bounced off the gym walls as the boys sprinted up and down the court. Even if Lula hadn’t warned me about Blaze, I would have suspected a problem. He missed four shots I knew he could make in his sleep. He didn’t get after the other boys to hustle. He refused to look me in the eye.

  I walked the length of the court, praying with every step, as the boys ran again, up and back. Up and back. I’d settled on an idea. One I believed came straight from God. But would Blaze go along with the plan?

  I blew my whistle. The slap of shoes on hardwood stopped, but the heavy breathing didn’t. I called them into a huddle as they gulped air.

  “Four more games. We have to win every single one to beat the school board’s challenge, so we need to focus. Here.” I tapped a finger on my temple and stared right at Blaze. He studied the ground. “Y’all get on home now.”

  The boys headed for the locker room.

  “Blaze, I’d like you to stay behind for a few minutes, after you get dressed.”

  His head shot up, eyes wary. “Why?”

  “Just some things we need to discuss.”

  He shuffled away. The other boys trickled out the door a few at a time until only Blaze remained. I paced in front of the small spectator area. The gymnasium door squealed open. Lula nudged a sullen-faced Nannie in ahead of her.

  Nannie wrenched herself from Lula’s grasp, rolled her eyes toward the sky, and plopped down on the bottom bench. Had she quarreled with Lula? We needed Nannie on our side, not working against us.

  Lula motioned for me to walk with her to the opposite side of the gym. She glanced back at Nannie, keeping her voice low. “It’s worse than we thought. Seems that now they’ve concocted a plan to get married before he leaves—for both of them to quit school!”

  I itched to throttle the boy. It was one thing to compromise his own future. Quite another to involve a girl.

  “We have to do something!” Lula’s whisper rose in pitch.

  “Obviously.”

  She glared.

  “Look, I have an idea. But only one. If we go into this together, maybe we can persuade them to put off their plans until June.”

  She crossed her arms. “What are you thinking?”

  Blaze sauntered out of the locker room, saw Nannie, and stopped. He turned toward Lula and me, his eyes accusing.

  “Trust me,” I whispered to Lula.

  We met Blaze at center court. “I thought it would be good for us all to talk.” With one hand on his shoulder, I steered him toward Nannie and pressed him to sit beside her. Lula stood next to me.

  I cleared my throat and clasped my hands behind my back. “It has come to my attention—”

  A tug on my sleeve. I tried to pull away. Lula stepped in front of me, facing Nannie and Blaze. “Why don’t we all go to my house. I’ll make us some cocoa and coffee.” She turned and slid a pleading look in my direction.

  My neck lit on fire. Who did she think she was, taking over? I had
this under control.

  But then Nannie and Blaze glanced at each other. Nannie gave a slight nod. Blaze stood, fixed his gaze on Lula, and cut me out of the conversation altogether. “All right, Miss Bowman. We’ll hear you out.”

  27

  LULA

  While Nannie and Blaze figured out how to squeeze into Chet’s two-seater car, I charged down the street, over two blocks, up another three. Breathless, I ran into the house, gasping Jewel’s name. As quickly as I could, I explained the situation.

  Jewel nodded, her mouth tight. “I’ll bundle up the little ones and we’ll pay a visit next door.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be praying, too. For all of you.” The matchmaking shine I expected to appear in her eyes didn’t. I pressed a kiss to her cheek before she waddled away, the children following like ducks behind her. Then I welcomed Nannie, Blaze, and Chet into the warm kitchen.

  Fixing the coffee and cocoa gave me something to do—something besides congratulating myself that Nannie and Blaze looked less defensive sitting at the kitchen table than they did in the cavernous gymnasium. If only Chet didn’t look so inflexible and authoritative. So much like my brother Don that I shuddered. Couldn’t he see that a lecture would only stiffen their resolve to do as they’d determined? If he wasn’t careful, his manner would drive them straight to the justice of the peace and the army recruitment office.

  I situated the drinks around the table, my heart pounding in my ears. I wished for a mathematical formula, some assurance of a correct resolution to this problem. But there wasn’t one. So I prayed for calm, for wisdom.

  Nannie’s hands sought the warmth of her cup and lifted it to her mouth. Blaze didn’t touch his. I waited in silence, knowing I’d tried Chet’s patience when I’d suggested this change of venue.

  Chet didn’t speak first. Blaze did.

  “I know you won’t like it, Coach, but I’m eighteen now. I can go where I please, make my own decisions. And I’ve decided I can’t stay with him anymore.” Blaze’s fist connected with the table, punctuating the words. But his eyes had a fearful look, as if he expected retribution for even that small act of defiance.