by Anne Mateer
Ignoring Blaze’s outburst, Chet sipped his coffee. The tightness at the corners of his mouth gentled. My breath released, the thudding in my chest calming a bit. But my silent prayers became more fervent. Please, God, let Blaze listen to reason. Let him not rush out and get killed and leave Nannie a teenaged widow.
Nannie covered Blaze’s hand with her smaller one, her jaw set firm, her eyes challenging mine, almost as if she’d read my thoughts. “I love him, Miss Bowman. And he loves me.”
I lifted the cup to my lips, blew away the steam, and sipped before I answered. “I won’t argue that with you. You are the only ones who can judge how you feel about one another. But you don’t need to quit school. Even if Blaze were to—” I glanced at Chet—“leave, it doesn’t mean you have to marry right this minute.”
Her round face looked so young and vulnerable, yet she didn’t yield. Her fingers gripped Blaze’s hand more tightly. “If he’s going off to fight, I’d rather be left behind as his wife than his girlfriend.”
Blaze’s mouth lifted, and his eyes cleared. My heart sank. Of course he wanted to marry Nannie right away. The poor boy needed to know someone cared. But this wasn’t the answer.
Chet stared into his coffee. I wanted to poke him, force him to join the conversation. He’d said he had a plan. The time had come to put it forth. My foot jabbed in the direction of his leg but caught only air. I drummed my fingers on the table until I couldn’t stand his silence. “Let’s say you do as you intend. Blaze leaves. First for training camp, then to France. How would you survive if something happened to him over there, Nannie? What would you do with no education and maybe even a baby on the way?” My face burned, but it had to be said.
Nannie’s chin tilted upward. “My family would help. And even if they didn’t, I’d figure something out.”
My teeth ground into one another as I fought the urge to shake some sense into the girl. I turned my fury on Blaze instead. “Blaze, can’t you see—”
Chet’s hand clamped around my forearm, manly fingers crushing the fabric of my sleeve. And for some reason, I turned almost giddy. At least until Chet’s smooth voice sobered me again.
“Has your pa gone back on his agreement? The one you made in the presence of Principal Gray?”
Blaze’s head tipped forward, but just barely. I ached for his pain, for the broken relationship with his father, for his shame in his father’s lack of integrity.
“Tell me what happened, Blaze.”
The boy’s eyes met Chet’s. “He said we had to break up the back forty, even though it’s near frozen solid now.” He cleared his throat, looked away. “I told him I’d do it Saturday, when I didn’t have school. Or basketball. Then he—”
Blaze pulled his hand from Nannie’s. Her eyes and mouth rounded. She blinked back tears. Blaze sucked in a long breath. “He swung at me. I put up an arm to shield my face, but before I knew it, I’d—” His eyes begged Chet not to make him continue.
Chet cleared his throat. “I understand your need to get away. I really do. But I don’t think enlisting right now is the answer. I think you’ll regret giving up on high school when you are so close to the end. Wait four more months. Get your diploma. Then if you still want to, you can sign up to fight.”
Blaze shoved his chair back and bolted to his feet. “I can’t live one more day with that man. You don’t know how he is. I’m afraid next time—” He looked down at his fist, clenching and releasing. We knew what he feared. He didn’t have to speak it.
Chet rose. “Just hear me out, son.”
Blaze looked at Nannie. She bit her lip and nodded, eyes wide and frightened. Blaze corralled his chair and sat again, his expression as hard as the ground outside. I wished he could understand how much Chet cared—how much we both cared. We wanted good things for them.
Chet continued, “You can be stubborn about this—do it your way—or you can think about what’s really best for you and for Nannie. Act on your convictions. Act like a man instead of imitating the mule you walk behind for your pa.”
My body went as rigid as a newly starched shirt. Had someone said those words to me, I’d have dug in like those boys in France, determined never to give ground. But Chet didn’t stop. He plowed ahead with a determination that would have made Blaze’s father take note.
“If you just react to your father, he wins. Think about it. If we went into each game only responding to the other team’s plays or to their defensive scheme, we wouldn’t often succeed. Instead, we have a strategy. An offense. And we see it through no matter how the other team tries to stop us. Right?”
My eyes darted among Blaze and Nannie and Chet. Blaze nodded.
“I’m offering you a plan, Blaze. An offense. Finish school. Then enlist. Don’t get flustered by the defense.” Chet glanced at Nannie. “I won’t even pretend to know what to advise you about the other, except to wait until you are both graduated. I imagine that’s what your family would advise, as well, right, Nannie?”
Pink splashed across the girl’s cheeks. She stared at the table. Blaze still hadn’t consented to Chet’s plan, but I felt Nannie’s resolve crumble. Maybe Chet did, too, for he rushed into the gap.
“What if you only had to deal with school and basketball, not your father? Then could you make it to graduation before enlisting?”
Blaze’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and his jaw ticked. When he answered, his voice croaked with emotion. “How? How could I do that?”
Chet’s hands clamped down on the back of his chair. “What about your uncle Sal? Could you stay with him? I’d be willing to talk to him—them, explain how things stand.”
Some amusement passed between them. Something neither Nannie nor I understood. But it lightened the mood. And gave me hope.
“Come with me. We’ll drive out to Sal’s after supper. If for some reason that option won’t work, you can stay at my house. We’ll talk to your pa together.”
Blaze looked at Nannie for a long moment. An entire conversation seemed to pass wordlessly between them. Then Blaze spoke, careful and slow. “I’m still not sayin’ I’ll stay until graduation, but I’ll talk to Uncle Sal tonight. On one condition.”
Every muscle in my body tensed, but Chet seemed to relax. “What’s that?”
A slow grin curved Blaze’s lips. “That I can walk Nannie home first.”
Chet laughed. “Go on, then. But Ma’ll have supper on the table at six thirty, so you best hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” Blaze pulled out Nannie’s chair. She pressed her cheek to mine before clutching Blaze’s outstretched hand and following along after him.
As the front door banged shut, Chet lowered slowly into the chair. He sat unmoving, elbows on the table, hands almost covering his face. I gathered the cups, rinsed them, then leaned back against the sink and studied this man who defied all my judgments of him. His heart understood people in a way mine never had. And the beauty of his compassion rendered his pleasing face even more handsome in my eyes.
“You handled that perfectly.”
“I don’t know how. I was terrified the whole time. I’m still afraid he’ll run away from his troubles instead of face them.”
I picked up a towel, wiped the water that dripped like tears down the side of a cup. Chet’s chair scraped the floor. I felt him draw near, glimpsed the tips of his shoes through my downturned lashes. He took the mug and towel from my hand and began to dry it.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Bo stuck his head in the kitchen. Chet retreated to the opposite side of the room.
“Is she here?” Bo asked.
I pointed. “Next door.”
“Thanks.” He disappeared.
Chet looked from me to the empty doorway, his forehead scrunched in confusion.
“He came for Jewel.” I turned and began to stack the clean dishes in the cupboard.
“For Jewel?” Chet’s hands landed on my shoulders. He turned me to face him. I couldn’t look up fo
r fear of what I’d read in his eyes. For fear of what he’d read in mine.
“Could we try this again, Lula?” His voice felt like a caress.
“Try what?” Did I breathe the words or actually speak them? My gaze crept from the floor to his chest to his face.
“The Red Cross dinner is a week from Saturday night. Sit with me. Ma’s in charge of the tables. I’ll arrange it with her.” A grin tipped his lips, and my stomach fluttered. “And you can be sure I won’t let you forget this time.”
A second chance. I’d be a fool to refuse.
Chet jogged to his automobile. I stood on the front porch, wringing my hands, the conduct rules for a teacher—most of which had to do, in one form or another, with not courting—ringing in my head. But the Red Cross dinner and dance was a community event. And patriotic. Surely there would be no cause for alarm in that. Especially if we sat at a table with his mother.
I wanted to ask Jewel’s advice but feared that would only embolden all her matchmaking plans.
“Lula! Where is your coat?” Jewel scolded, coming across the yard, the clamor of the children behind her.
JC peered past me. “Was that Mr. Vaughn?”
I nodded, clenching my teeth to keep them from chattering.
“Get inside. You can talk to Lula there.” Jewel gave JC’s behind a playful swat. He bounded up the steps but stopped at the door and held it open for his mother and me. Inside, I poked at the waning fire, trying to stir it to life.
“He didn’t even stay to say hello?” JC dumped a log on the grate, dousing the tiny flame I’d coaxed to burn. I squeezed my eyes shut.
I shoved the log aside, blew on the embers. Fire licked at the dry wood and caught. I brushed off my hands, faced my nephew. “I’m sorry, JC. He had a lot on his mind tonight. But I’m sure you’ll see him soon. Why don’t you help me fix some pancakes for supper?”
“I wanna help,” Trula called out, bounding up beside me.
JC turned away.
“Not this time, Trula.” I took JC’s hand. “I think JC is all the help I’ll need.”
JC grinned as he raced into the kitchen. He just needed a bit of undivided attention. The kind a boy like JC was used to getting from a father like Davy.
Jewel smiled. “Everything turn out all right with those kids?”
“We’ll see. I think things are good for now. Where’s Bo?”
Jewel’s cheeks turned rosy, and her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “He was in the area on army business and just dropped by for a quick hello.”
“Oh?”
“Aunt Lula, how many eggs do we need?” JC shouted from the kitchen.
“You’d better go see to him,” Jewel said, bending to retrieve the coat and mittens that Russell had discarded on the floor.
I waited to make sure the weight of her belly didn’t topple her over—and to see if she had anything else to say. But her silence lingered. If she could keep the secrets of her heart about Bo, I decided to keep mine about Chet. For now.
28
CHET
The strains of “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” pulled my ballplayers’ attention to the music students instead of our half-time huddle.
“Look at me, not at them,” I reprimanded.
Of course, I peeked that way, too. But all I could see was Lula’s back as she directed the ensemble celebrating the National Week of Song with a patriotic tune. Patriotic music in the background as we raised funds for war bonds. Fitting, to be sure. But distracting.
“We’ve got to settle down and play. Blaze, try to get the ball inside, to Virgil. Clem, I need you to block out their center. He’s scored too many baskets already.” All three boys nodded. I looked each player in the face before continuing. “These guys won’t give us anything for free. Now let’s get this game back under our control!”
The singing stopped just before I finished speaking, my final words echoing through the sudden silence. Lula turned and frowned at me as if I’d interrupted her students’ performance instead of putting an exclamation point on their anthem.
But I couldn’t spend time thinking about her now. We had a game to win.
The Bulldogs were down by three points. After all the boys’ hard work, we faced the end of our undefeated season and quest for a new gymnasium.
Minutes ticked by. My boys tried hard, but still we trailed. I slouched on the bench, my eyes on Blaze as he took the ball up the court. If only I could call out a play or an encouragement, remind them to keep their feet moving and their concentration on the ball. But I couldn’t. There was no coaching allowed during play.
Blaze to Clem to Virgil. Virgil bounced it twice, waiting for Flip, one of my shortest players, to break free from his defender. The ball swung in Flip’s direction. Flip passed it back to Blaze, who shot it in.
34 to 35. I wished we were the 35.
We followed the Millersville boys back down the court, each of my players focused on the ball, on the player assigned to them, anticipating the next move. The building could have caught on fire at that moment and they wouldn’t have noticed. I gripped a towel between my hands, pulling and twisting to try to relieve the stress.
Less than a minute. It appeared our whole season would live or die on the final shot. The pounding in my chest thundered in my ears along with the buzzing of the crowd.
The ball left a Millersville player’s hands, arced upward. I couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. Blaze jumped up with it and batted it away from the rim before it began its descent. I shot to my feet as the crowd cheered. The referee gave me a warning look that told me to get a handle on my spectators. But I couldn’t fault them.
Time for one more run up the court, one more attempt at a goal.
Jump ball.
Clem snatched the ball out of the air after Virgil’s hand slapped the leather. He tossed it to Blaze. Blaze dribbled toward our goal, passed to Flip. My eyes followed the ball from guard to forward to center. Left and right. In and out. Then Blaze stood alone at the top of the key—just beneath the free throw line. Clem received the ball, flung it to Blaze. Blaze caught it, shot—
Scored! My arms flew into the air as the final whistle sounded. The boys from our bench rushed the court, all of them gathered around Blaze. I held back. I’d have my turn at congratulating him. I glanced over the crowd. Lula smiled at me from her seat, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Then Miss Morrison appeared in front of me, her hand curling around my elbow.
“That was so exciting! However do you manage to stay so calm?” She flapped a lace hankie in front of her face.
I eased my arm from her grasp and pointed toward my team as I moved away from her. “Thanks, Miss Morrison. I have to go.”
Then there were slaps on the back, hands pumping mine up and down. School board members. Fellow teachers. Parents. Miss Morrison, I noted, was pushed out of the way and looked none too happy about it.
I pressed through the crowd, seeking Lula. Then the sea of people parted. Instead of Lula, the weather-hardened face of Archie Clifton rose before me, the hostility usually directed at Blaze now turned full force on me.
“Coach!” Blaze’s arm waved over the heads of those still in attendance, his back to his father, not yet aware of his presence.
I made my way to my team and started the congratulatory process again. But when my boys gathered around, I turned sober. “You didn’t give up. I respect you for that. Enjoy this victory, but remember we still have two more games in which to prove ourselves.”
A chorus of “Yes, Coach” followed my words. Then I sent them off to change.
Blaze lingered behind. “How’s it working out at your Uncle Sal’s?” I asked him.
“It’ll do.” His mouth twitched into a grin. “Although Miss Delancey—or rather, Aunt Rachel, is a bit . . .”
I laughed, imaging Miss Delancey prancing about her new domain.
Blaze cleared his throat. “I guess I can make it until graduation.”
I schooled my expression to
neutral. He wouldn’t want me to make a fuss. “Good. Mind if I ask how you came to that conclusion?”
His head dipped. “Nannie and I talked again. She thought it would be best to wait.” He looked up. “She’s smart. I trust her.”
I nodded, thanking God for a girl with common sense. Then my gaze strayed over Blaze’s shoulder. Archie Clifton’s eyes bored into mine. “Your pa’s here.”
Blaze looked as panicked as a boy atop a runaway horse. I gripped his arm, wishing I could impart strength and courage with a touch. But I could only advise—and pray. “He came to see you play. You ought to at least speak to him. Be a man, Blaze. Prove you have it in you to live your convictions without resentment toward those who don’t understand or agree.”
He nodded, but the fear didn’t leave his eyes.
“I’m praying for you. Right now.”
“Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath and approached his father. With his every step, I battered heaven with my requests. For strength. For humility. For kindness and patience and rock-hard resolve.
The conversation lasted less than a minute. Mr. Clifton didn’t look pleased when he left. Blaze threw his arm around Nannie’s shoulder, his face tight and pale. Nannie tugged at his jersey. He glanced down at her adoring grin and relaxed.
My eyes sought Lula again. I’d hoped to share the excitement of the victory with her, but as I searched among the small clusters of fans that remained, she was nowhere to be found.
In spite of Lula’s disappearance after the game the night before, I felt like a schoolboy on Christmas morning. Ma had arranged the seating at the Red Cross dinner and dance as I’d asked—and without an untoward look or comment. Lula would sit beside me, Jewel and Bo beside her. If only Lula would have agreed to let me drive her there and back. But she’d been insistent. She’d come with Jewel and Bo.
When she arrived at the town hall as promised, I inhaled at the sight of her, from the feathered round hat to the beige dress of lace that billowed out around her slim ankles. A shiny band of blue circled her waist.
