Making Waves (36 page)

I put my shoes back on, then slipped quietly behind the locker room. A huge blue devil was painted on the side, looking silly in the white moonlight. I cut behind the tall bleachers where Tim and Taylor had sat a few minutes ago. They were now standing like they were about to leave, too, so I hurried. I was almost past them when Taylor said something that froze me in my tracks.

“Tim. You never told Donnette the truth about what happened that night, did you?”

At first I thought that I couldn't move, that I was paralyzed. I could see them plain as day through the bleachers, facing each other. Holding my breath, I crept closer to them and knelt down behind a post.

“No. I'd never tell anybody that, Taylor.”

I'd never heard Tim's voice sound so strange before.

“Tim—I think we might need to talk about it now. I think I finally understand it,” Taylor said.

I didn't know what in the hell was going on, what they were talking about. They must have been drinking that night. Or maybe doing drugs. I always felt like there was something wrong about the whole thing. I heard that strange, choked voice of Tim's again.

“Look, Taylor. I think it's best never to mention it again.”

“I had awful nightmares, Tim. I lived it over and over.” Taylor could barely be heard now. Whatever it was, it was killing him.

“Me, too. That's why we don't need to talk about it, Taylor. We both know we were—crazy that night.”

“Oh, shit, Tim! If only it were that simple. But now I understand more about the confusion I felt then. I've had my brain probed by enough shrinks; I should know more. And Sarah's really helped me, too.”

Tim looked at Taylor, shocked. “You didn't tell her!”

“I never told anyone else, Tim, I swear to God. But she's helped me work on my feelings and the ambivalence I experienced then.”

Bound for Taylor to start using them big words again and talking his crazy talk. I crept even closer when I saw the tortured expression on his face, though. Suddenly Taylor reached over and took ahold of Tim's arm.

“See? I can relate to you now, touch you, as a friend, without that other hell—”

Tim jerked away from him.

“Taylor, goddamn you—SHUT UP! We were both messed up in the head then—I know that. It didn't mean anything, to either of us.”

“It meant something to you. You wrecked the car because of it,” Taylor said.

Tim was driving! That couldn't be right. I didn't believe this. Taylor cleared it up with his next statement.

“When you grabbed the steering wheel like you did, that's what caused me to lose control of the car,” he said.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” was all Tim could say. “I remember now.”

“So don't tell me that it didn't mean anything, Tim. There was too much between us back then, man. I've never been so close to anyone, not even Cat—I've never had such strong feelings before. We didn't know how to handle them, did we? Neither one of us.”

Taylor's voice broke and he turned away violently. “Oh, God—I was so confused then—” He was crying again.

The look that came over Tim's face as he looked down at Taylor like to have broke my heart in two. I knew then what I'd always known about Tim, that he was too good for this world. I watched in disbelief as he reached out with that broken, useless arm of his toward Taylor. Lifting with his left hand, he put that arm around his shoulders, just like I'd seen him do so many times with his brother Tommy. With their heads bent together, he spoke so quietly that I couldn't hear what he said, but I could tell that the gentleness of his words was easing Taylor's awful torment by the look that came over his face. Then Taylor, still crying like a baby, reached out for Tim.

Suddenly I couldn't watch anymore. I ran away from that dark stadium and those two figures huddled together in the moonlight as fast as I could.

It was not until the next day that I knew what must be done. I had pretended to be asleep when Tim came in because I had to think it through, plan it all out. I was too upset to even think at first; my feet were swollen and my head was throbbing. I was totally exhausted and spent.

Tim was gone to work by the time I got up the next morning—I was so tired that it was easy for me to pretend to be asleep so I didn't have to face him. Then when he came home for lunch, I fixed us a bologna sandwich and we talked about Tommy and the football game. I hadn't said a thing to him about last night, and he hadn't mentioned it to me, either.

But he was definitely different—as though an awful burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Thank God, he finished his sandwich quickly and left; he'd said that Coach was waiting for him at the school. We were going to the ballgame later.

I watched out the window as he went to his truck and I saw he wasn't limping as bad. I'd do
anything
on earth to keep him that way—anything. When I saw Tim reach out to Taylor, I realized someone like Tim deserves a better life than he could have hanging around a lumber mill or a football field, that it was up to me to make sure he got it. Whatever it took. I watched as Tim drove away in his pickup.

Soon as Tim was gone, I went to the shop and called my afternoon customers, canceling their appointments. I could only hope that they'd reschedule them instead of going elsewhere, for I had at least fifty dollars' worth of work coming in that afternoon. Oh, well. That really didn't matter as much as what I had to do.

I went back into the kitchen after I'd canceled all my customers. Still thinking of my plan, I reached for the phone book and made the calls before I changed my mind. My first call was to Ellis, for I had to be sure that she could promise me things would work out with her sister, Glenda, that I could count on it. Then, with trembling fingers, I made the other call.

Two rings and an answer. It was him.

“It's Donnette—I was hoping that you'd be there,” I said, breathlessly. I couldn't chicken out now. “I need to see you right away. Come over to my Aunt Essie's old house. That's where we live now. Come in the back door, to the kitchen.”

I went quickly to the front bedroom, combed my hair and put on fresh lipstick. On the dresser was the drawing Tim did for the sign.
Making Waves
. That was what I had to do. I took the drawing back to the kitchen with me and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for him.

I didn't have to wait long. The back door opened and he came into the kitchen suddenly, as though he'd run all the way. His long, dark hair was tousled; he was sweaty and dressed in ripped shorts and an old tee shirt, but he was still beautiful. What wonderful coloring he had with that dark skin and those golden brown eyes! You just had to marvel at him, regardless.

“Donnette—I came as soon as you called,” Taylor said.

“Come on in, Taylor. Close the door.”

I stayed where I was at the table.

Taylor came in and leaned cautiously against the kitchen door as he closed it. He probably thought I was going to shoot him.

Both of us looked at each other a minute, then Taylor spoke. “Well. Last time I saw you, you were Donnette Kennedy, living out from town with your daddy.” And he smiled at me.

“Yeah, that's true.” I smiled back. “Last time I saw you, Taylor, it was a rainy night, two years ago, just before school started. You and Tim were about to go for a little ride.”

The pain caused by my words was obvious in Taylor's dark eyes, and he looked down at the floor.

“Donnette, I understand how you must feel about me.”

“I bet you do. I understand a lot of things now that I didn't then,” I said to him.

Taylor looked around the kitchen, puzzled. “Tim's not here, I take it?”

“No,” I told him. “And he won't be back until late. So we can talk free. No one's gonna be here but us.”

Taylor looked at me for a long moment, then motioned toward the table. “Why don't I sit down, then?”

He didn't wait for me to answer, but walked over and pulled out a chair at the table. He then turned it around and sat in it so that we were facing each other.

“God, it's hot today,” he said, looking around the kitchen again. “You got anything to drink in here?”

I knew what he wanted. “Help yourself. Tim has some beer in the refrigerator.”

He grinned and jumped up. I don't think he wanted the beer as much as something to do besides sit and face me.

“Sounds great!” He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer, popping the top. “I can't believe this is Tim's. He used to never drink.”

“Well. He's hardly in training now, Taylor.”

His face flushed red and he quickly turned up the beer can and drank from it.

“I know you have a lot of hostile feelings toward me, Donnette. You wouldn't be human if you didn't. I don't blame you a bit—I really don't.”

“It doesn't really matter how I feel, Taylor,” I said quietly. I kept on staring at him, thinking of how much I despised him, so that I wouldn't lose my nerve.

Taylor sat back down in front of me, beer in hand, so close our legs brushed. Again, I marveled at his smooth brown skin and deep dark eyes. Such a damned shame. Those eyes were looking into mine now, real curious-like.

“Donnette—of course it matters how you feel! Listen, Tim and I finally talked. We got a lot of things worked out.”

“I know.”

“I'm glad Tim told you. Tim has forgiven me, Donnette. God—I can't believe he can understand my cowardice in running out on him like I did! But he says that he does, now. I can only hope that you'll be able to as well.” Those wonderful eyes looked so earnestly at me.

“Actually, I have forgiven you, Taylor. I see now that you couldn't help what happened, and your reaction to it. You just really couldn't help it.”

Hope lit up his dark face, and he leaned over toward me, as though to grab my hand or something.

“Oh, God, Donnette—you forgive me, too? I—” He stopped when he saw the drawing in my hands. “The sign! Is that the original?”

I nodded. Taylor put his beer down and took the drawing gently from my hands. Our hands brushed, and I noticed his were cold and trembling. No matter how much I hated him, there was no way I could help but feel sorry for him, sorry as hell for what I had to do to him.

“God, Donnette! Do you have any idea how good this is? If Tim hadn't done that sign, I would have forgotten all about his art. It's amazing how it appeared right at this time!” He shook his head, smiling.

“You know, Taylor, life is just full of amazing coincidences, isn't it?” I smiled back, never taking my eyes off him. “Isn't it funny—the sign appears, and you tell Sarah Williams that Tim painted it. She just
happens
to remember Miss Maudie's plan to give some poor student of hers a scholarship. I'd sure call that an amazing coincidence, all right.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow at me and shook his head. “So Sarah told you the truth, huh? I wish she hadn't felt the need to do that. I thought she understood how important it is that no one knows.”

“She only told me part of it, Taylor, that
you
were the one to put the idea in her head. I figured out the rest, all by myself. I finally figured out that there never was any scholarship, that you were behind the whole thing. Oh, it was a good one, all right. Had me going for a while, hand it to you. I know that Miss Maudie would have liked the idea, too, if only she had known about it. Where was the money coming from?”

Taylor hung his head. “Shit. I never dreamed you'd figure it out! I got the money. Charlotte sent my tuition money to me this year instead of paying the school directly. That's what gave me the idea in the first place, having that much money on hand.”

“So the money
is
available for it—that's for real?” I asked him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Plus, once we concocted the idea, Sarah decided she wanted to use some of her inheritance from Miss Maudie to help Tim out, too. Only reason she went along with the scholarship lie is that Miss Maudie really was doing it, in a way. But you know as well as I do Tim would
never
accept it if he knew it was from me and Sarah. Especially from me.”

I looked at him and nodded. “You're right—Tim would never accept it coming from you.”

Taylor pushed his hair back with his hands, like I'd seen him do so often, and he looked at me sadly.

“So now you'll tell Tim what I did, make him turn against me for trying to fool him, right?”

I shook my head. “You're wrong, Mr. Know-it-all. I never intend to tell Tim that scholarship came from anyone but dear old Miss Maudie.”

Taylor's eyes lit up, and this time he managed to grab both my hands.

“Donnette! That's—God!—that's
marvelous
. I cannot tell you how much that means to me. And think how much it will mean to Tim!” He squeezed my hands tightly and released them, then he frowned at me. “Shit—what if Tim won't take it, even thinking it's from Miss Maudie?”