Playing by Heart

by Anne Mateer

  Pastor Reynolds gave me the nod to begin. I stumbled through the first two songs, my attention on the back door, watching for Chet and Mrs. Vaughn to arrive. In all the hullabaloo of the Vaughns’ house Friday night, Chet and I never had a chance to say good-bye. Or thank you. Or even, I’m sorry.

  By the time we reached our third hymn, I’d accepted Chet’s absence, though it stung. In the light of day, didn’t he recognize his impulsive proposal—and my refusal—for what they were?

  The opening notes to “My Hope Is Built” birthed new shoots of faith in my heart, tender, like green sprouts from the dark soil seeking the warm sun. The second verse rang through the building on a choir of voices:

  When darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace;

  In every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the vale.

  The third verse passed, then the fourth. Each bolstered my spirit, until the final notes of the chorus churned through every pore of my body. All other ground is sinking sand.

  The sermon in the song stayed with me all through the service, overpowering even Pastor Reynolds’ carefully crafted words. After the closing song, I joined Jewel in the pew, waiting for the crowd to thin before she navigated her large belly through the narrow aisle.

  “They aren’t here.”

  Jewel patted my hand. “Louise was nearly sick with worry that night. And they are grieving. Give them time.”

  I rested my head on Jewel’s shoulder, then lifted it again. “She told you? Everything?”

  Jewel nodded, her eyes sad. “JC, take the children outside.” She pushed to her feet as they left. “It will take time for them to heal, but now that the truth’s out, maybe they can.”

  I wet my dry lips. “Even with Clay gone?”

  “Louise loves Chet, but I think she’s been jealous of him.”

  “Jealous?”

  “He moved forward, didn’t stay stuck in his father’s past. She couldn’t get over it. Clay seemed more willing to live in that place of shame with her.”

  Shame. I thought of Daddy. All my family. Of the shame they’d endure if the school board ousted me, effectively ending my career as a teacher at any level. Would I be able to move forward after that, leave the past behind? Fear jittered down my spine. “How heartbreaking. For all of them.”

  Jewel took my arm, waddled toward the door. “Yes, but the Lord is in the business of mending broken hearts. It’s His specialty.” We stopped at the door. She looked out over the lawn. Then her face brightened. I followed her gaze to Bo—Russell in his arms, Trula and Inez tugging at his hand, JC nearby, frowning but not scowling.

  “And has He mended your broken heart, sister?”

  A flush broke out over Jewel’s rounded face. “Yes, I think He has. Or at least I can say that the process is fully underway.”

  I expected Principal Gray to arrive at my classroom door and order me from the building. First one hour ticked by. Then another. By my third class of the day, I attacked cantata rehearsals full force, assuming I’d be there to see our performance through.

  The teachers’ lunch table didn’t include many male teachers any longer—most of them had gone off to war. Bitsy plopped down beside me. “The games Friday night were so exciting, Lula! But we missed you at the team dinner afterward. The kids had so much fun!”

  She continued gushing, the others joining in. What little appetite I had fled. I excused myself, wondering if the conversation would turn to Chet and me in our absence. An uncharitable thought, to be sure, for Bitsy had never been one to gossip, though I didn’t know the others as well.

  I piddled around my classroom, guessing Chet wouldn’t stop by. But when my door clicked open, I whirled in expectation.

  My hope plummeted back to earth. Only Nannie, with Blaze following sheepishly behind.

  Nannie motioned him forward, hands on her hips in her sassy way. “I told Blaze if he could have you on the bench during the basketball game, he could come himself and let you tutor him in math.” She nodded at me, all business.

  Blaze’s mouth tipped into a wry smile. My lips twitched. No wonder Nannie was besotted with the boy. Sturdy build, flawless features, and natural charm—and he did what she told him to do.

  Her expression melted into adoration as she clung to his arm and stared into his face. “Besides, I’d rather be his girlfriend than his teacher.”

  Blaze blushed to the roots of his hair, returning her love-struck gaze with one of his own. I covered my smile, but needn’t have, for they’d ceased to notice me at all. I cleared my throat. They both startled.

  “I’d be happy to help you, Blaze.” I wanted to ask what had happened with his father after the game, but it felt . . . intrusive.

  “And you’d better do what she says,” Nannie scolded.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Blaze grinned down at Nannie, looking for all the world as if he would kiss her then and there.

  My mouth warmed with the remembrance of Chet’s lips on mine. A pang of regret stabbed. Perhaps I should have accepted his proposal, taken the piece of himself he’d offered.

  Stop it! Like the proposal, the kiss was the result of the overwhelming emotion of the moment—of Clay and his mother and the basketball game. I was simply . . . there, looking needy. Maybe his absence now didn’t so much reflect the hurt of my refusal but the relief that he hadn’t inadvertently tied himself to me for life.

  38

  CHET

  As I paced my classroom, warm air dampened the flesh where my collar circled my neck. Should I seek out Lula? Apologize to her? I’d kissed her. Gotten caught. Put her job in peril. Then spouted off a rash proposal to win her favor.

  Yes, most other women—women like Miss Delancey or Miss Morrison—would have jumped at the chance to score a husband. But not Lula. Likely she despised me now for such a heedless, arrogant action. As if marrying me would solve everything. I snorted. No one deserved to be involved in the mess I’d made of things.

  And yet I couldn’t forget our kiss. The way she’d leaned into it. Didn’t resist. The warmth on my neck intensified. I sucked in a breath. I didn’t want that to be the last time my lips met hers. Not when for the first time since Pa’s death I’d felt . . . at home.

  I shook my head, eager to dissipate the images. Even if I risked more time alone with her to apologize, I’d then have to tell her of my enlistment. And the terror of that held my feet fast.

  Ma’s reaction hadn’t been anything like I’d expected. First she’d wailed and locked herself in her room, didn’t come out until the sun started its descent on Saturday. Sunday had been even worse. She cajoled, badgered, nagged—this time trying to get me to undo what she’d wanted so badly before.

  Then she quit. Went silent. No reproach in her eyes, only sadness. Disappointment.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Lula, too.

  Air. I needed fresh air.

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I descended the stairs. I glanced at the stairwell leading to the basement classrooms—to Lula—and hurried past the temptation.

  Outdoors, a gentle spring breeze cooled some of my anxiety. I breathed in the clean smell of the new grass, circled the stout trunk of an ancient oak tree, then kicked at a piece of loose bark near the base. Enlisting had seemed the right course in the moment. If only I’d consulted the Lord for confirmation instead of my grieving heart.

  What had been done was done. I couldn’t fix things with Lula or Ma. But Blaze—

  I took a deep breath. Sal had come by on Saturday afternoon and told me Blaze had moved back home that morning. I’d stared, drop-jawed.

  “But he—”

  Sal chuckled. “Arch couldn’t resist coming to watch his boy play ball after all. And when he saw the whole town behind them, Blaze leading the team to the win?” Sal shrugged. “Guess it reminded him to be proud of his son instead of critical. I think he loves the boy, just doesn’t know how to show it.”

  I wanted to hear the whole story from
Blaze—about his father and the game. And I needed to congratulate my team on a job well done. Apologize for not being there to witness it. Explain my enlistment, too. Perhaps I owed them that most of all.

  Even though the season had ended, I asked the boys’ team to join me for a post-game talk that afternoon. I cranked open the windows in the gymnasium, hoping to circulate the freshness of early March after the musty closeness of winter.

  But the air felt heavier than before. And scented with rain. I glanced into the sky. Clouds roiled over the gray surface. To the west, the verdant sky edged toward black.

  The first spring storm. I cranked the windows closed again and waited for my team to arrive. I’d make my speech quick, send them home before the deluge.

  The boys trickled in, most eyeing me with the distrust I knew I deserved. I’d let them down. As a coach. As a man. My chest tightened.

  Was this how Pa had felt, sitting alone in a cell? Did he recognize what he’d done—and hate himself for it?

  I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair as I stood before them. “As many of you have no doubt heard, on Friday afternoon I received word that my older brother, Clay, died in France.”

  Two boys squirmed, and the rest sat frozen.

  “I understand Blaze did a fine job leading you on my behalf.”

  Blaze’s head dropped lower, and his finger scattered the dust on the empty floor beside him. A rumble overhead shook the room. Best get on with what I had to say.

  “I’m so proud of y’all. You didn’t just go from a losing season to a winning one. You won every single contest. Your tenacity inspired an entire community and even secured a large war bond purchase from the town of Dunn and the promise of a new gymnasium for those who will come behind you—or for some, yourselves, should the war end as quickly as we hope.”

  Felix looked me in the eye and nodded. The others kept their gazes averted. Blaze stared at the ground.

  The outside light dimmed. I couldn’t see the boys’ faces clearly anymore. Maybe that was best for finishing out my speech.

  “Finally, I need to tell you that I won’t be around next season.”

  Several exclamations sounded at once. Blaze’s head rose slowly. I held up my hand as thunder grumbled overhead and a flicker of lightning flashed through the windows.

  “I’ve enlisted.”

  Silence.

  “But, Coach—” Felix shot a shocked look toward the rest of the group. Blaze lowered his head.

  I clapped Felix on the shoulder. “I’m sure Principal Gray will do everything within his power to find you a good coach for next year.”

  “Like Miss Bowman?” Glen’s question was followed by a few snickers.

  My jaw tightened. “Whoever it is, I expect you to give them your best, as you have for me.”

  Their chorus of “Yes, sir” echoed in the gymnasium.

  Another boom of thunder overhead. Another crack of lightning.

  I jerked my head toward the door. “Y’all get on home now. Looks like we’re in for some rough weather.”

  The boys gathered their books with solemn faces. I followed them outside, eager to be in our storm cellar should things turn bad, anxious for Ma not to endure the storm alone.

  The wind shrieked in through the door when Blaze opened it. Each of us pushed against its force, one step at a time. I clapped a hand over my hat to keep it from flying away. Then Virgil tapped my shoulder, pointed to the sky. We looked up, every one of us. A cloud column rose in the west. How far away, I couldn’t rightly say. But too close for comfort. Especially since it seemed to be rotating!

  “Get back inside!” I yelled.

  No one protested. We slammed the door shut. Barred it closed. Then I led the boys to the basement. We crammed into the custodian’s closet, prayer sprinting through my head. For us. For our families. For the entire town of Dunn and those residing in the tents at Camp Doniphan, in case this weather extended there, as well.

  Then I cracked the closet door and listened. Rain slapped the windowpanes. The boys sat on the floor, silent. Then the ping of hail on glass.

  Blaze stood next to me. “You think it’ll be a twister?”

  I shook my head. “I wish I knew. If it doesn’t get worse in the next few minutes, I’ll go up and scout around, but it looked like it was coming right toward us.”

  As we stared into the darkness, I wondered if Blaze was worried about his pa in the dugout on their land. Did they even have a storm cellar? Of course he’d be worried about Nannie and her family, too, as I was about Ma—and Lula and Jewel and her kids.

  “I’ll just go up real quick—”

  A loud whoosh like a speeding train filled the building, shook the walls. I pushed Blaze back into the closet, slammed the door, and held it closed, the knob biting into my hand, my arms aching with the strain.

  Would I ever see Ma again? Or Lula? Would we emerge to a world unscathed or one in which tragedy met us around every corner? I squeezed my eyes shut, started to pray. I thought I was saying the words in my head, but soon discovered I was speaking aloud. Asking God’s help. His protection. Several boys mumbled along, sending their own petitions to the Almighty.

  And then everything stilled. Including our voices. Leaving only the panting of breath and the beating of hearts in our ears.

  My arms relaxed and the door eased open. I glanced down at my wristwatch. What had seemed an hour had been mere minutes. I swallowed hard, praying others in town had seen the signs early enough, found shelter. I poked my head into the hallway. Ceilings and walls remained in place. I motioned the boys out of the closet. We inched up the stairs, bunched like a herd of cattle. Some broken glass crunched underfoot, but I sighed with relief that the building appeared intact.

  I pushed open the front door of the school. A few high clouds skated across the blue sky. Branches and leaves littered the ground. The boys broke away, each in the direction of their own homes. Blaze remained at my side.

  “You heading out to your place?” I asked.

  Blaze shrugged. “After I check on things around here.”

  Which meant he wanted to be sure Nannie was okay.

  “I’ll be glad for your company, then.” We walked forward in silence.

  Half a block later we saw two houses, flat as pancakes.

  Our steps slowed.

  A motorcar on its side. A bicycle mangled at the base of a tree, one wheel spinning.

  I broke into a jog.

  Shards of glass. Splintered fences. Downed trees.

  I started to run. One block, then another, Blaze keeping pace.

  Surely Ma had made it to safety.

  Then I saw my Tin Lizzie, half buried in the side of the house.

  “Ma!” I ran to the storm cellar, yanked on the door. It flew open, unbolted. I called down into the darkness.

  No answer. Only the faraway cry of a baby, the bark of a dog.

  “Ma? Are you here?” I climbed over broken boards and mangled metal, and through the hole smashed in the side of the house. I reached the stairs. The structure had been compromised. I screamed for Ma again. I couldn’t go up. If Ma were upstairs, she couldn’t come down.

  I stumbled beyond the dangling front door, out to the stoop. Dear God, what do I do now? A bird chirped as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  The church.

  If there was trouble, Ma would go to the church. I sprinted in that direction, noting vaguely that Blaze had vanished. To go to Nannie’s house, no doubt. I ran down the block, past pristine houses alongside others that seemed to have endured a stampede of wild horses.

  I found the church untouched, the late afternoon sun streaming through the high clouds and surrounding it like a halo.

  The door creaked open as usual. I stepped inside. The rush of air flickered the flames of dozens of candles illuminating the room. “Ma?”

  Then Lula stood before me, eyes wide, face white. Alive. Unhurt.

  I grabbed her shoulders, ready to pull he
r into my embrace. Her hands clamped over my wrists, held me away. “She’s here, Chet. Your mother’s here.”

  She continued on, but the words made little sense in my ears. I only knew she’d told me Ma was alive.

  “Hush now. It’s all right.” Lula’s gentle hand stroked my head as her arms circled my body. I clung to her, noticing, finally, the heaving sobs that pierced the quiet. Then realizing that terrible noise was me.

  39

  LULA

  Mrs. Vaughn held her son, but her gaze locked on mine.

  Thank you, she mouthed. Gratitude from soundless lips that could apply to so many things. Bringing her to the church. Comforting her son. Music shared in the dark sanctuary over the past few months.

  “Lula!” Jewel. She sounded calm, but with an edge that pulled me through the commotion of the church to reach her. She grabbed my hands and squeezed, JC hovering near, his face gray with fear. “We were worried sick. I had the children in the storm cellar, but we didn’t want to bar the door for fear you’d need to get in. JC held it shut until the wind stopped.” She beamed at her son, who seemed to grow two inches with the praise.

  “I’m so sorry.” I hugged her, then helped her to a pew. “I knew Chet was still at school. I was— I got worried about his mother.”

  Questions gleamed in Jewel’s eye. I refused to acknowledge them, to admit I cared what happened to Chet’s mother because I cared about Chet.

  Because I loved him.

  The thought scraped over my raw heart, igniting a new wave of pain. He was here. In this room. Safe. But I had no claim on him.

  I forced my thoughts to the loved ones in front of me. Jewel and JC. I brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucked it beneath a hairpin. “Where are the other children, JC?”