Capture the Wind for Me (49 page)

“Katherine.” Clarissa reached for her again.

“No, Clarissa.” She spread her fingers. “Just . . . I . . .”

I hugged my arms against my coat, sickness welling in my stomach. Greg steadied me. This could not be happening. Neither Daddy nor she was moving toward the other. I needed to
do
something.

“Katherine!” her mama said sharply. “Now you're gonna hear us out.”

“No!” Katherine raked in air. “Stop telling me what to do! All of you! Bobby, why
did
you bring everyone here? I've already told you—” Her voice pinched off, high and flat.

“I didn't bring them, Katherine; they brought me.” Daddy started walking slowly toward her. “They know as well as I do where you belong.”

“Bobby, this just isn't right! You can't come here with half the town and force me to change my mind on the spot.”

I could see her muscles tensing, as though she prepared to bound away like a deer at any moment. Daddy stopped. Raised his hands at his sides, palms up. “Katherine,” he said simply, “we all love you.”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. Clarissa tilted her face up at Katherine in a sudden grin and pulled on Katherine's sleeve. “Guess what I did when you were gone. I punched Alma Sue in the nose!”

The statement rang through the air like wind chimes in a freshening breeze. Nervous laughter sputtered from our group. Katherine turned a nonplussed look upon my sister. “You did? Well, that's . . .” She lifted her hand to smooth Clarissa's hair, then let it drop again.

We all fell silent. I gripped Greg's hand.

“It's getting kind a cold out here,” Daddy ventured. “Let me help you get your things, and these good folks can head on back.”

“Katherine,” Miss Connie jumped in, “now you listen to him. 'Cause we're not movin' till you do.”

“Mama, please. There are so many reasons why I can't. You don't know everything—”

“I know all I need to know. I know that the grief over your brother's death has clouded your thinking. We let you run before. You were an adult and there was nothin' we could do. Well, you're still an adult, but you're thinkin' like a child right now. Honey—” Her voice broke. “When you're hurtin' and scared and feelin' like you made too many mistakes in life—that's when you need the people who love you the most. This is not the time to leave, Katherine. This is the time to cling. To your friends, to this family who loves you. And most of all, to God.”

“I haven't run away from God, Mama,” Katherine retorted defensively. “You don't know how much I've been praying!”

“Talkin' to God is wonderful, daughter, but have you done any listenin'?”

Katherine turned away. “This isn't the time, Mama, in front of so many people.”

“Why not?” Daddy demanded, anger edging his voice. He still had made no move toward her. “Your actions were certainly in front of a lot a people. You left a week before our wedding, Katherine. You knocked me to the ground, then left me to pick up the pieces, to tell the kids and the town. To cancel the wedding.” His anger mounted, propelling him a few steps forward. “Now you can't so much as talk in front of your friends and family, after they've come all this way?”

At the tone in his voice, Clarissa started to cry. Robert moved to Katherine's side and slid his fingers around her arm. “Please come home with us,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he were a grown man talking to a child. “We need you. Daddy can't eat. Clarissa's gone off the deep end, fightin' with somebody twice her size. Jackie's not happy, even with Greg here. And I just . . . miss you a lot. The house isn't right without you anymore.”

I stared at my brother in amazement. For him to sound so mature, so insightful. For him to not only express his feelings, but in front of so many.

Before I knew it, I'd let go of Greg, pulled across the pavement toward Katherine like tide over a beach. I stepped out from the crowd, passed Daddy, then drew to a halt before Katherine. Her eyes found mine, a pleading, exhausted look flicking across her face. “Jackie,” she said, so quietly that I barely heard.

She waited for me to speak. I sensed that she was bracing herself, as if I had the power to cut from her what little strength she had. Suddenly I saw how unfair this was to her—the public airing of her private pain. If Derek had lived and I'd had to make my choice for Greg, would I have wanted a confrontation such as this?

In that moment, all my judgment and anger slipped away, and I saw in Katherine a reflection of myself. Two stripped saplings in the wind, barren and weathered and clinging to shore.

“Robert, Clarissa, leave us for a minute, okay?”

They eyed me questioningly, then moved away. I sensed them joining Daddy, watching, wondering, but I did not look back.

“Katherine.” My voice was low enough for only her to hear. “Look. I . . . know you're hurting. For lots a reasons. I know you miss Derek and that you think you failed him. I failed him too. And I miss him more than you can know.” I exhaled raggedly, my breath fogging in the chilled air. “Now we have to go on. I'm goin' to make it with Greg. I have you to thank for our bein' together in the first place. With God's help, I'm not gonna let my past mistakes ruin my future. I'm goin' to love Greg. I'm gonna be
loyal
to him, Katherine; do you hear what I'm sayin'?”

Her face pinched, tears welling in her eyes. I knew she understood the confession behind my words.

“As for the differences in his life and mine—and that's a lot—we'll work through them.” I reached for her, laying a hand on the sleeve of her coat. “And you can do the same with Daddy. Because you love him and he loves you. Together, you can work through your problems. And all the stuff you're feelin' underneath—the confusion and hurt and guilt—they'll . . . well, they'll get better in time. They have to.” I breathed a half laugh, half sob. “At least, I'm sure countin' on that for myself.”

She puffed out air. I tried to say more, but the words had run dry.

I heard shuffling behind me.
How bizarre is this night,
I suddenly thought.
Daddy hanging back while I try to convince Katherine to come home.

Now I realize that he understood how much she needed to hear my words.

Katherine could not find a response. She opened her mouth, then shook her head helplessly. A sound rose from deep in her throat, and she reached out to pull me close. My arms went around her, and we held on to each other, bodies quivering.

Time blurs at this point in my memory. I know only that after some moments, I sensed Daddy beside me, pleading etched into his forehead. I let go of Katherine and slid away, Daddy before her. “You know I'm not leavin' without you,” he uttered. For a moment Katherine stilled. Then her fingers sank into his coat until her knuckles blanched white. She sagged against Daddy's chest as he pressed his face into her hair. I left them then, drifting back to Robert and Clarissa. The three of us shuffled to our crowd of friends and family, allowing Daddy and Katherine what little privacy they could muster.

Greg slipped an arm around me and held me tightly. I leaned against him, gratitude and love welling within me like a sun-warmed spring, filling me until I thought I'd drown. He whispered words against my head that I did not catch. No matter. I felt their meaning.

Vaguely, I registered the sound of crinkling paper. Mr. Luther began moving through the crowd. I heard a tiny, relieved chuckle, unmistakably Miss Jessie's, followed by a giggle from my sister. Everyone began to whisper and mill, as if passing a secret amongst themselves. I held on to Greg, immersed in my emotions, and paid little attention.

Until Celia sidled over and pressed a Tootsie Roll in my hand.

~ July 4, 2002 ~

epilogue

F
ireworks
rat-a-tat-tat
in the summer sky and burst into color, fizzling long fingers back toward the earth. “Ooooh!” The crowd's appreciation drifts heavenward.

Bradleyville's first centennial. It seems everyone raised in the town has returned for the wild celebration. Well, wild for Bradleyville. This morning the parade had to continue around a broken-down farm wagon. Somebody's runaway horse scattered participants like bowling pins. The Methodist and Baptist women held a much anticipated and highly competitive pie-baking contest, only to tie in the end. And this afternoon at the all-town picnic, a makeshift table collapsed under the weight of the food.

Whoosh!
A multicolored snake bursts into life and writhes through the sky. “Aaaaah,” the crowd responds.

I lean back against Greg, feeling the strength of his chest, his arms around me and clasped at my waist. For months we have looked forward to our visit here, a break from the mad dash of concerts and touring. Only in Bradleyville can the lead singer for LuvRush, relentlessly pursued by fans around the world, be simply Greg, my husband. Here we joy in seeing old friends and family. When we visit, we stay with Daddy and Katherine in my old bedroom, where I used to gaze at Greg's picture. The tack mark has longed been filled, the wall repainted. The memories linger. Memories of falling in love with Greg.

And memories of Derek.

I do love visiting Bradleyville. Still, I have an admission to make.

There remains a part of me that cringes when I come back. In the rush and cacophony that has become my life, it's far easier to drown out the thoughts that insistently thrum upon my return. Here I come face-to-face with old regrets.

As always when we visit, this morning I stole away alone to the cemetery. Greg knows I go to Mama's grave. I expect he also knows I visit Derek. Invariably, I return to the house red-eyed and quiet. Greg holds me, his expression tinged with sadness. He asks no questions about my tears, and I offer no explanations. Such is the wordless agreement surrounding the secrets I wish I did not keep, and Greg wishes not to know.

Clunk, POP. Clunk, pop.
More colors paint and whistle through the sky. Everyone cheers, our upturned faces reflecting red, green, purple.

Perched on Daddy's shoulders, my pudgy two-year-old brother starts in fright and breaks into a bawl. Daddy swings him down and presses him to his chest. Little Jason struggles, demanding his mama, and Katherine takes him from Daddy's arms.

“I remember when you used to do that,” I tell Clarissa. She makes a face at me, far too mature at thirteen to be reminded of such nonsense. Robert emits a knowing laugh, then seizes the distracting moment to reach for the hand of his new girlfriend with feigned nonchalance.

“And I remember when you wanted me to do that,” Greg whispers teasingly in my ear. I give his arm an affectionate slap.

Jason finally quiets. “Look, look,” Katherine urges him, pointing to the sky. “The big noises make pretty colors.”

I smile at that, watching them. Jason appears unconvinced, but I know how true her statement is. Daddy and she certainly made enough noise to scare us all for a while.

They did not marry on December twelfth. Daddy wisely suggested they put off the wedding until they'd worked through some of their issues. Some in town thought him crazy. Mrs. B told him flat out to “catch Katherine quick” before she bolted again. But Daddy and Katherine remained firm in their decision. The town had helped them; now they needed to attend to their business—without interference. When the wedding did take place in April, a lot of folks in our church expelled a collective sigh of relief.

Boom, boom, boom!
Myriad colors sparkle, then melt against the darkness. Jason starts to cry again. Behind us, I hear Danny and Celia's little girl, Patty, scream with delight. Greg and I turn as one to smile at her. She is riding on Danny's shoulders.

“Geg, Geg.” Patty abruptly leans over toward her uncle. Greg catches her at the last minute. She claps chubby hands on Greg's cheeks while he blows at her belly, and she giggles with abandonment.

“Let me have that ball of fire.” Lee smacks his huge fist twice against his palm, urging Patty from Greg's arms. She mushes her lips at him, digging a finger into his cheek. Miss Jessie laughs. “Oh, Celia, when she's a teenager . . .,” she says with a prophetic tone of warning.

“I know, I know.” Celia sighs. “I'm going to have my hands full.”

“And now for the graaaand finaleeee!” our mayor announces through the bullhorn. And in wild response the sky lights and sputters and zings and swirls. We all oooh and aaah until the last hue fades, then we break into catcalls and applause. Lee sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles a piercing scream, nearly breaking my eardrum. Jason cries at that, too. Patty giggles, showing new teeth.

“Sounds like one of your concerts!” I yell at Greg over the noise.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I can
hear
you!”

“Well, that's the end of our celebration, folks,” the mayor declares.