Making Waves (32 page)

Both of us jumped out of our skins, then got up together to go to the kitchen and see who it was. I got to the door first and opened it. Somehow it seemed like Providence that Coach Mills should be standing there, since he was the man who turned Tim's life in another direction when Tim was so young.

“Donnette—you sweet thing! You're looking mighty fine, hon,” he grinned. Coach didn't wait for an invitation, just pushed his way right on into the kitchen. He saw Tim and his face lit up.

“My lucky day—I just ran to the post office and thought I'd stop and see if I might catch you in, son. Reckon we could talk a minute?”

“Sure, Coach,” Tim said, flustered. Everybody after him all of a sudden, it seemed. “Want to have a seat?”

“You ate your lunch yet?” Coach Mills asked Tim, but reached over and pulled me to him, sneaking in a feel in the process. “Or did I catch you two up to something else?” He leered, shifting the wad of tobacco in his jaw.

“No, sir. We were about to eat. You want to join us?” Tim said, and I wiggled out of Coach's embrace. His hand lingered a minute on my bottom before he let me go.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning his attention back to Tim. “Let me take you out, son, get us a hamburger. I want to talk with you about Tommy. Big game coming up Friday night, as you know, and Tommy's got the shakes, bad. I need you, Tim.”

As had happened so often in the past, before Tim and I could talk or anything, Coach Mills took him away. When they went out the door, Coach looked over his shoulder, winked broadly at me and said with his dirty grin, “Honey pie, you keep it hot while we're out talking man-talk, you hear? I may keep Tim out late. If I can talk him into staying for practice, I believe we can get old Tommy-boy straightened out.” And he ruffled Tim's hair as they went out the door, slamming it practically in my face.

I hated to see Tim get so tightly back into Coach Mills's clutches again! First Sarah Williams and now Coach. Tim told me the other night that when he told Coach he'd been cut back at the lumberyard, Coach had promised to see if he could get Tim a little extra pay from the school board for helping some with the football team during season, now that Tim was able. Bless his heart, Tim seemed so excited about that prospect. I couldn't help it; I had a thought that made me feel so guilty that I put it right out of my mind. I couldn't help but think that, in spite of the horror of the accident, having Tim all to myself these two years had been good. So very good, in spite of everything.

Much later that night I lay in Tim's arms in our big old four-poster bed in Aunt Essie's front bedroom. It was a beautiful night; the moon was almost full and so bright you could see silvery shadows outside. The night air was not as hot and heavy as it had been; there was a hint of the coolness of autumn. And there was a breeze, too. The sheer curtains lifted softly in the white moonlight shining through them.

Tim was almost asleep; our coming together tonight had been quick as a flash. He seemed surprised at first at my eagerness for him. It was almost like I felt I had to hold on to him so tightly he'd never let go of me. Images of Taylor and Coach and Sarah Williams all played on my mind as I waited for him in that dark, moonlit bedroom. When he finally slipped into bed beside me, coming in late from football practice, I was almost frantic with wanting him. He only laughed soft-like as he held me close to him.

“Tim?” I whispered afterwards into his chest. His good arm he kept around my shoulders, but I knew he was drifting into sleep as I felt his grip begin to relax. “Did everything go well at practice?”

“Um,” was all he could manage to murmur. I hated to pester him, but we hadn't had a chance to talk yet.

“Tim. Do you want to talk? About Tommy, or Coach, or—anything else?” I whispered.

“No. I want you to shut up so I can go to sleep,” he muttered. His eyes were closed and I noticed how innocent and young he looked all sleepy. I brushed away the lock of hair that always fell over his forehead.

“What about Sarah Williams?” I just couldn't go to sleep without asking.

“Donnette,” he said, then sighed and pulled the pillow halfway over his face, “let's
please
just go to sleep now.”

“Tim!”

“Okay. Sarah Williams is one good-looking old lady. Now can I go to sleep?” he asked from under the pillow.

“That ain't what I meant and you know it.” I was wide awake now, but he wasn't. And he'd turned his back on me.

“And I don't think she's so pretty, myself. She don't wear hardly any makeup, fix herself up. You know what I'm asking you about—that scholarship thing.”

“Donnette, I do not want to talk about that now. We will, but not yet. I haven't had time to think about it.”

“Okay. But I want to be in on your thinking, you hear? Don't you do anything or talk to her anymore until me and you talk first.”

Tim muttered something incomprehensible under the pillow and went right on to sleep. I swear, just like a man! If I had something like that hanging over me, I couldn't sleep a wink.

It was a few days later that I learned what I did about that scholarship offer by Sarah Williams, something that made me determined to do everything I could to keep Tim from even thinking about taking it. I'd made up my mind to give Tim some time to himself to think. I was able to turn loose since he seemed to be doing so well and was not all tied up in knots like before.

Personally I didn't think Tim had an ounce of desire to be an artist. Why, the idea was near-bout funny to me! Artists are weird people with crazy lives, not ordinary folks like Tim. I've never known any artists, actually, but I've seen TV shows about them. I just didn't think Tim had any business trying to do something like that. But, I'd made up my mind to let that be
his
decision; that is, until old Sarah let the cat out of the bag and I got her number good and proper.

I may have been content to let Tim have some time on his own to mull over the idea of the scholarship, but evidently Sarah Williams was not. If I wanted proof that she was only doing this to try and get her paws on him, I soon had it. Even though she had said she'd leave him alone while he thought about it, she just happened to run into him only a couple of days later. Supposively she went out to the lumberyard to get Jack to cut her some two-by-fours for something she was fixing up in Miss Maudie's house. A cousin of theirs from way out in the sticks had bought the house and was moving in once Sarah got it all fixed up, or so everybody said. Some senile old lady who couldn't do the fixing herself, or some such story. Sounded pretty fishy to me. Made me wonder if Sarah didn't want an excuse to hang around Taylor longer. But anyway, when Tim told me about Sarah's visit to the lumberyard, I was furious. Oh, I never let on to him, but I was mad as hell. The very idea of her going out there looking for Tim!

“Sarah asked me if I'd thought about the scholarship,” Tim said to me.

We'd just gotten home from church that Sunday and were changing out of our Sunday clothes. I pretended to be only casually interested, but actually I was steaming.

“So, what did you say?” I asked him as I wadded my slip up and tossed it in a drawer. I should have cut her throat instead of her hair, I was thinking.

Tim didn't say anything. He undressed and hung his Sunday suit up. Then he put on some jeans and a tee shirt. It took him forever to dress now, but at least he didn't need anyone to help him anymore. He hated that.

“Well. I ain't never thought about doing anything in art,” was all he said. Just as I thought.

“She did say,” he added as he tied on his tennis shoes, “that I could teach art to kids, if I got in the right program. I kinda like that idea. But … I just don't know.”

Tim finished dressing and started out the bedroom door. He always visited his brothers on Sunday afternoons. Since his daddy died, he was the only father those boys had. He stopped at the door and glanced at me, then looked down kind of sad-like.

“Guess I just never figured on having another chance at a scholarship,” he said, and then he went on out the door.

For a moment I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes stung. I then remembered Sarah Williams going out to the lumberyard, trying to talk him into this idea, and anger replaced the sadness. I was sure Taylor had told her all about the accident and the death of all of Tim's dreams. That made it downright cruel for her to be prissing around here, talking to Tim about another scholarship. It would do nothing but bring up all that mess again, the last thing on earth I wanted. I was going to have a little talk with old Dr. Williams myself, tell her a thing or two.

As it turns out, I had a legitimate excuse to go to Miss Maudie's house that afternoon. Otherwise, I'd probably have lost my nerve.

I'd cornered Ellis after church, trying to find out what she'd heard about Taylor. I was not a bit surprised to hear that he was going to stay a couple of more weeks until his school started back. Supposively he was trying to line someone up to stay with Miss Della or something like that. Ellis was sure he was just trying to keep Miss Della out of the nursing home to prevent her and Sonny from getting her house. Evidently the house is willed to Mr. Harris, but it's Miss Della's as long as she lives or something. I have to admit I wasn't paying that much attention to Ellis. Seems like she's gotten a little greedy. First, all she wanted was Sonny and the Clark name, and now she's got her heart set on that house.

Anyhow, when Ellis was telling me about Taylor, she told me about how much time he was spending with Sarah Williams, supposively helping her fix up Miss Maudie's place. She also told me that he and Sarah had been having an estate sale from there, getting rid of some of Miss Maudie's junk. I decided that would be the perfect excuse for me to go and see Sarah. If I got to the house and Taylor was there, I'd leave. But if I caught Sarah Williams alone, I planned to tell her to stick with Taylor Dupree and leave me and Tim alone.

It turned out I was in luck when I got to Miss Maudie's house—I caught Sarah alone. I thought no one was home at first, she took so long coming to the door. And then she was half-dressed, wearing only a pair of shorts and a halter top. I swear if I was as flat-chested as that woman, I wouldn't go around advertising it. I'd get me a good Maidenform instead.

Sarah was all tousle-headed and sleepy-eyed when she opened the door for me, so I knew she'd been napping, though she denied it. Unless, of course … I tried not to let her see me glancing around, but I wondered if she had some man hidden back in the bedrooms. Probably only Taylor. Or maybe even Dink, since he was so interested. At least I knew where Tim was.

“Oh—it's you, Donnette,” she said sleepily. “Come on in.”

At first I played it real cool. “Sarah, I heard you're selling some of Miss Maudie's things. So I thought I'd look around, if that's all right with you.”

I followed her into the parlor, and then she turned to me.

“I wish you'd said something earlier, Donnette. I think it's about all gone.” She rubbed her eyes, and her voice was husky. I wanted to ask her if she'd had a rough night.

“Anything in particular you're looking for? I had lots of furniture earlier this week,” she said.

I hadn't planned on her asking me that, so I had to think fast. “Uh—mirrors. Mirrors I can use in the shop.”

She looked around the dim parlor. The drapes were pulled and it smelled funny. I swear, though, it looked just like Miss Maudie. Everything appeared to be a hundred years old. There wasn't any vases or whatnots left, just furniture, but there was one huge old mirror over the mantel. Sarah pointed to it.

“I don't know if you'd be interested in this one or not. I believe it's the only mirror left.” It was a big old ugly thing with a dark wood frame. But I pretended to inspect it. Sarah and I looked wavy and speckled in its reflection.

“Um. Pretty nice mirror,” I said as I scraped at a bad place on it with my fingernail. “I like it.”

Sarah frowned. “Well—if you're sure. It's pretty ghastly to me. It's so heavy you'd have to send Tim over to see if he can lift it before you got it.”

“I don't believe I like it after all.” Just her mentioning Tim made me mad again. I folded my arms and looked at her, and she looked curiously back at me.

“You didn't really come to see mirrors, did you, Donnette?” she asked me with a little smile.

“No. I reckon you know why I came.” I didn't feel quite so mad now that I was face to face with her, but I still was determined to tell her to bug off.

Sarah chewed on her lower lip while she studied me. “Tell you what. I planned to walk over to the cemetery this afternoon, check on Aunt Maudie's grave. Why don't you and I walk over there together so we can talk?”

So Sarah and I ended up walking all the way out Cemetery Street to the graveyard. I guessed right when I first saw her that she was a jogger; she changed to nylon running shorts and Reeboks.

We had a good brisk walk out there since it wasn't so hot that afternoon. Matter of fact, it was clouding up like it might rain. We didn't see a single soul as we walked. Everybody in Clarksville reads the Sunday paper and then naps on Sunday afternoons, resting up between morning and evening church services.