Capture the Wind for Me (17 page)

W
hen Greg left I whirled through the house, scrubbing a bathroom, folding laundry, brushing Winnie. I accomplished not one lick of homework. What a laugh it would be to even try. Sitting at my desk with Greg's picture looking over my shoulder, trying to concentrate on social studies? After a busy hour I tripped into the kitchen, where I banged pots and pans, and mopped the floor while the rice cooked. When I heard the garage door open, I pushed the mop against the wall and hurried into the hallway. Daddy entered, briefcase in hand. I nearly knocked him over, determined to beat Clarissa in blurting the news. My sister had done enough damage for one day.

“Daddy, I have somethin'—”

“Daddy, Daddy, Jackie had a boy here—”

“Hush, Clarissa!” I swished my hand at her in fury.

He swung his head back and forth, perplexed.

“Anyway, I wanted—”

“And he's in a picture on her wall!”

“Clarissa!” I stomped my foot at her. “Will you be quiet!”

She folded her arms. “Well. It's true.”

I shot her a look to kill. “Go. Now.”

With a humph, she tromped away.

I turned back to Daddy, trying to calm my breathing. He set his briefcase down and raised his eyebrows at me, looking none too pleased.

“You tryin' to tell me Greg was here? In this house?”

“I tried to call you, but—”

“In this house?” He spaced each word. “With just you and the kids?” “Grandma was here.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “She thought he was great.”

“Really. You didn't tell me he was arriving today.”

“I didn't know.”

“How did he end up with you? So fast?”

I told him, my heart sinking more with each question. This was just because Greg was Danny Cander's brother, I thought. The unfairness of it thickened my lungs. Daddy would not have been concerned if it had been somebody like Derek.

Daddy looked away at nothing, ambivalence clear on his face. I knew he regretted having allowed me to meet Greg. But he
had
said yes.

“He wants to call me tonight, Daddy,” I ventured. “Please say that's okay.”

Daddy's expression softened. He reached out his hand and cupped the side of my face. “It's a hard time in life, Jackie,” he said quietly, “bein' your age.” He dropped his hand, picked up his briefcase. “I'll make a call to the Matthews' house tonight before I let this go any further.” He started down the hall, and I followed. “I plan on askin' Celia a few questions about her young brother-in-law. If he's a troublemaker, she won't lie to me about it.”

I thought of Celia, her misty eyes as she'd greeted me. Daddy was right; she would not lie to him. Apparently she felt a debt to him—and to Mama—that she didn't think she could pay.

Back at the stove, I stirred the lima beans and rice, then checked the chicken in the oven. Daddy greeted Robert, asked Clarissa about her homework, and petted Winnie. Without a word then, he looked up a number in the phone book and dialed. He meandered toward the table, looking out at the backyard as he waited for an answer.

“Hi. Is this Celia? Well, hey there. It's Bobby Delham.”

I reached inside the freezer for ice cubes. Something inside me cringed, just hearing him talk to her. What was he thinking, even as his voice sounded so unaffected? What was she thinking? Suddenly, I realized I was reacting just as he had a few nights back—dwelling on some situation that had happened years ago. My hand stilled on the ice cubes until my fingers grew cold. If I could think such things, how much more understandable for Daddy to do the same.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Daddy said. “You and Danny married last December, right?”

I dumped a handful of ice into a glass. Reached into the freezer for more, my heart doing an odd little
rat-tat.

“That's true.” Daddy lingered over the kitchen table, tapping it with his knuckles. “Katherine King. She was just a little squirt when you and I were in school.”

I filled a second glass with ice. Then a third.

“Listen, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Daddy turned to walk through the kitchen. He passed me without a glance and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom. “He was over here today . . .” His voice faded. I heard the click of his door.

My hands nearly shook as I poured the iced tea. Turned off the stove and slid out the chicken. Then I stood waiting, leaning against the counter, clasping and unclasping my fingers. It seemed forever before Daddy returned, phone in hand.

I studied his face.

He sighed. Laid the phone down on the tile. “Well, from what Celia says, he's a very nice boy.” Daddy kept his voice low so Robert and Clarissa wouldn't hear from the family room. “Says he's been raised by strict Christian parents, and that for all his singin' in a band and makin' a name for himself, they've kept strong watch over him. Apparently, he hasn't dated much himself. Celia says he seems to have taken a real likin' to you.”

My legs weakened. I sank my fingers into the counter.

“So I'll let him call you. And I'll let you see him this week. But remember, Jackie.” Daddy grazed my cheek with his finger. “He won't be here long. Be careful. When I was a teenager, I watched someone go through terrible pain because the one she cared for had to leave. Granted, they'd had a lot more time together than you and Greg will have. But I know the heart of a teenager—how quickly you can fall for someone. As old as you think I am, it really hasn't been that long.”

“It was Celia, wasn't it?” I blurted. Then couldn't believe what I'd done.

Surprise moved across his face.

The sound of lasers fired up from the computer. “I wanted to play!” Clarissa fussed at Robert.

“Too bad, I got here first.”

“Why do you ask that?” Daddy hedged.

How to back out now? I wavered between protecting myself from the suspicion of eavesdropping and the desperate need to understand.

“You loved her,” I heard myself say. “For a long time. You even loved her when you dated Mama.”

Ping, ping,
the lasers shot.

Daddy stood back, drawing in a breath. “Who told you that? Your mama?”

I made no reply.

“Jackie, I loved your mama more than life itself. You know that.”

Yes, I did know. But I wasn't talking about their marriage, couldn't he see that? All those years of hearing stories from Mama about their dating—now I realized she'd told me only the best, glazing over the bitterness like icing on sugarless cake.

“But you loved Celia first. Mama was your second choice.”

“Mama was God's choice for me,” he retorted. “The only right choice. If I had to do it all over, even with losin' her, I'd marry her again. Don't you ever doubt that.”

“I don't, Daddy. I don't.”

His expression lightened. “You're just wonderin' how it all works, aren't you. No mama to talk to, and now ready to date yourself. Just remember, Jackie, God watches over his own. If I could end up with your mama, who loved me in spite of all my stupidity, you can trust him as well.”

I nodded, unable to talk about it anymore. I pushed away from the counter. “Better get supper on the table.”

Every time the phone rang as I did dishes, I jumped. First Grandma Delham was on the line, wanting to put in her two cents about “that nice boy, Greg.” Daddy shook his head as he hung up the receiver. “He must be some kid to get Mama so tickled over him.”

Next Katherine called. She'd heard the news from Miss Jessie, who'd talked to Celia. “Oh, Katherine,” I whispered, not wanting Daddy to hear our conspiracy, “Greg's
unbelievable.
And he's gonna call me tonight, so we'd better get off the phone.”

“Is that Katherine?” Daddy wiggled his fingers at me, urging me to hand over the receiver.

“Don't stay on long!”

“Hi.” Daddy's lips spread, his voice full of warmth. Such a little word. But the way he said it spoke volumes. “Why don't you come over for a while?”

Yes, yes!
I nodded with vehemence.
Just get her over here so you can hang up!

I hovered about the family room, trying to think straight. I'd still done no homework, and Clarissa needed to finish her math. She made a beeline for the computer. “Oh, no, you don't.” I caught her by the shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen table. “Homework time.”

“Just fifteen minutes.”

“No.”

“Ten.”

“Clarissa, this is not a suggestion!”

“Please.” She wriggled away from my touch.

“Why do we have to go through this every night? Do I ever let you off the hook?”

She pulled her mouth down. “Well, there's always a first time.”

I glanced at Daddy. He still talked on the phone, not paying the least attention. I sidled in front of him, folding my arms. Shot up my eyebrows as if to say,
Would you please.

He held up his hand in surrender. “Gotta go,” he told Katherine. “Jackie's expecting an important call.”

I marched Clarissa to the table and sat her down, wondering to myself how in the world this house could stand two generations dating at once. The whole thing was just downright strange.

Winnie flopped down in her corner with a sigh, as if empathizing with Clarissa. Soon she was snoring.

We made it through three problems before Katherine arrived. Which, of course, called for multiple hugs and numerous other means of procrastination on Clarissa's part. In time, Katherine settled on the couch with Daddy. Robert crutched his way into his bedroom to do his homework. I sat down again with Clarissa.

Two minutes later the phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my chair. Daddy made a point of answering. It was Greg. Daddy introduced himself and they talked for a minute while I shifted from one foot to the other. Katherine watched me, lips twitching. Apparently satisfied with what he'd heard, Daddy finally handed the phone to me. “Half an hour,” he whispered. “It's not a suggestion.”

I slid out of my tutoring chair, Daddy taking my place. Katherine sat on the other side of Clarissa.

I took the phone and headed for my bedroom, trying to think of something witty to say. “Hi.” I clicked my bedroom door shut. Sank upon on my bed and stared at his picture.

“Hi.” He sounded amused. “You are, what do you say, the Queen of Sheba. Today I answer to Celia, her mamma, Miss Jessie, and your baba just to talk to you.”

Oh, good grief.
“I'm sorry. That's Bradleyville for you. The adults are always really protective.”

“That's okay. You should hear my parents. Mamma says do not look at girls until I am thirty.”

I laughed, loving the way he said things. “That is pretty bad.”

“She says this because she marries so young. To my brother's father, I mean. And they are . . . not good together.”

“Oh.” I gazed at his picture, wondering. “How did Danny and your mama get to Greece?”

“Danny's father dies just before he finishes school. Danny and Mamma leave Bradleyville soon after that and work on cruise ships for a year. Then one goes to Greece, and they stay there.”

I played with the fringe on a throw pillow, thinking. Danny. Leaving town. Leaving Celia behind.

“Did . . . I mean, your brother must have known Celia when he was here, right?”

Greg hesitated, almost as if we'd hit on an uncomfortable subject. “Yes. They . . . love each other.”

“Then why did he stay in Greece?” I blurted. None of this made any sense to me.

Greg's silence drew out even longer. “I don't know. Things happen.”

Suddenly everything fell into place. Things happened, all right, as in Celia and my daddy. Like cold water in the face, another realization startled me. Greg's brother couldn't possibly like my daddy any more than my daddy liked him. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it. Did Greg know all this? Is that why he sounded so uncomfortable?

An old car rattled by on the street. A neighbor's dog barked. I tried to think of something new to say.

“So tell me—”

“I want to—”

Our words tumbled over each other. “You first,” he urged.

“I was just going to ask about you. I want to know everything about LuvRush. How you started. How you got where you are.”

“Oh. You have all night?”

I wished. “But first I want to tell you again how much I love ‘Hung Up on You.' It's my favorite.”

He thanked me. “That is good to hear. Most of the time we hear from our coaches that we are bad. Our singing is horrible, and our steps are wrong. We work all day, try to improve. That is why we like the fans. They say good things.”

“You must have lots of them. Fans, I mean.” I didn't like the thought. All those girls. Most of them prettier than I. “So how did LuvRush start?”

I lay on my bed and listened as Greg tried to explain a desire so deep that he'd clung to it for years, even when everyone told him his band would never make it. He'd received a guitar for his eighth birthday after much pleading with his father. The feel of those strings under his fingers, the polished wood in his hands, had filled him with excitement. He took lessons and practiced constantly. His mamma loved the music. Baba just shook his head.

The other three singers in LuvRush—Alexei, Lysander, and Demetri—were older than Greg. When they were fifteen and sixteen, they formed a band. Greg proved he could play guitar well, and they asked him to join. He was only twelve. They played rock songs, imitating American groups. Greg graduated to an electric guitar. Then he started singing and surprised everyone. Slowly the band made its way into small dance clubs for teens. Greg's mamma would always go to keep an eye on him. They played at wedding receptions, in cafés on weekends. Greg spent all of his time either in school or with the band. He kept his grades up. He had to. One slip, and his father would have taken away his guitar.