the Last Run (1987) (55 page)

The small face looked up with large, clouded, brown eyes. "Robby."

"Hi, Rob, I'm Matt."

The boy's eyes never left the face of the big man towering over him as he nodded and waited for the teacher to ask why he didn't complete his work.

"Rob, you play baseball?"

The boy's eyes misted and he lowered his eyes.

Matt knelt down to the boy's level and saw tears trickling down his face. Rob lowered his head farther to hide his tears.

"What's the matter, Rob? You don't have a reason to cry."

The boy shook his head and hopped from the swing to get away.

Matt grabbed the boy and hugged him to his chest. "I know, son, I know why . . . you know you aren't getting any better in school and will have to be put back a grade. All your friends wil go on to the fifth grade and you won't know anybody."

The boy sniffed back his tears.4 4How . . . how did you know?"

Matt shut his eyes, fighting back his tears. 4'Because once I felt the same way."

Matt Wade left the classroom that afternoon and walked straight for his curriculum counselor's office to change his major to Special Education. There was something new in his step that any student who knew him would have noticed. Matt Wade was walking with a purpose-he was walking toward a future. A young boy needed him and, Matt knew deep inside, he needed the boy and other children like him.

1976

The driver smiled as he stopped his cab along the curb in front of the Hilton Hotel. He'd seen his passenger half a block away and knew it was his lucky day.

A small woman wearing a black-sequined dress and waist- length fur coat stood in front of the door waiting for him.

The driver broke his own rule. He never got out to open the door for a fare, but this fare was special. It was Ginny. He'd seen her on television three years before when she sang her hit song 44Waitin' in Line" on the prime time special. She was a knockout then and still was. Her auburn hair was fixed the same way as it was when she was on TV, and her breasts looked as if they'd pop out of her low-cut dress.

The driver smiled brighdy as he opened the door and she began to step in. He backed up a step to look through the window to see if maybe . . . just maybe . . . damn, she'd put her hand up, holding the top of her dress as she got in.

The driver ran around the front of the cab, hoping none of the other cabbies had seen him open the door. The assholes will give me a ration of shit for weeks! he thought. He hopped in the front seat and looked in the rearview mirror. 44Where to, Ginny?"

Virginia Wolinski was immediately disappointed. He hadn't read the papers and seen where she was playing.

Probably nobody in Nashville had read it either, she thought.

Virginia sighed to herself and spoke evenly. 4'Printer's Alley, please."

Sure thing. Be there in five minutes. Which club you singing in?"

The Captain's Table."

Sure, I been there. Maybe I'll get off early and catch the second show."

Again, Virginia felt a pang of disappointment-she'd been booked into a tourist restaurant where even cabbies hung out. It was a reminder of her present popularity. Three years ago, when she'd been in Nashville, she'd sang at the Center to a standing- room-only crowd. Her great comeback had turned out to be a pipedream. Her booking agent had told her she was lucky even to get this gig, let alone the Center. After all, she hadn't had a hit since "Waitin' in Line." The new single had done well but the album sales barely reached the top fifty.

The driver talked the whole way, and she was thankful that most of his questions required merely a nod for an answer.

'Captain's Table on your right, Ginny. Good luck, and I hope I can catch the second show."

Virginia opened the door herself and stepped out. She didn't want to disappoint the cabbie by telling him there was only going to be the one performance and leaned forward, giving hini ten dollars. "Keep the change . . . and thank you."

'Thank you," the driver exclaimed with a smile.

Virginia glanced at the marquee as she walked down the steps of the club.

GINNY Singing Her Old Tbnes MAKE RESERVATIONS NOW! DINNER AND SHOW $22.50

The marquee had angered her. She tossed her fur to the maitre d' and walked straight toward the bar, where Bob, the manager, was inspecting the silver water goblets.

'What's this about 'old tunes?' When I spoke to you this morning, I told you I'd be singing my new release."

Bob smiled as if he was a politician. "Now, Ginny, the crowd here tonight will be the older set. They're not into the disco scene. I'm doing you a favor."

What do you mean 'older set'?"

We got a call and a bus tour from Florida is coming in. They're from an old-age home or somethin'. Hell, Ginny, they reserved twenty tables!"

Virginia backed away from the bar in disbelief. The manager didn't know it, but he'd just thrown her the third and last disappointment of the evening. It was like three strikes and she was out. Her pipedream was over.

She forced a smile and walked through the deserted restaurant to the dressing room, where she would wait for her nine o'clock performance . . . her last.

Matt looked at his watch and quickened his steps. The plane had arrived late and he'd just tossed his bag into his room and headed for the club. He knew he wouldn't make it in time for a table and hoped there would at least be a place to stand. He saw the marquee and ran across the street. Her picture was on the door as a coming attraction. For years he'd been following her career, until he'd read she'd married a real estate agent in California. That was two years ago. By chance, he'd later read that she'd been divorced after some kind of scandal, and that her husband had taken most of her money and run off with a Spanish actress. He'd never tried to get in touch with her. Only after reading about the divorce did he write, but the letter came back marked 4"Address Unknown."

Then he'd read about her new single in the Daily Oklahoman and how she was trying to make a comeback, but according to the article the record wasn't doing well. He'd called the record company and then her agent to get her show schedule, then picked the one place where he could go on a weekend. School was in session, and between his duties as teacher and school principal, it was the only time available.

Matt felt his body tingle as he walked down the steps. He couldn't believe that after six years he could still feel the way he did about her.

The darkened club's tables were full, as he expected, but the bar in the back had three empty stools. He sat down and looked over the lounge to see if he could spot her at one of the tables, but they were filled with gray-haired women and a few aged men.

Matt ordered a beer as a side door opened next to the small, lighted stage and the band came out. Matt spun around but she didn't appear. The band played one melody, then the lead guitarist took the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, here is the moment you've all been waiting for. Here she is! All the way from sunny San Diego, California, the little lady with the big voice . . . GINNY! Come on, folks, let's make her welcome in Nashville!"

The door opened and Matt held his breath as the applause grew louder.

The woman who walked out the door was not the Ginny he knew. She'd been a small bundle of eneigy then, and hardly wore any makeup. She'd had a quick smile and a bounce in her step. The woman who appeared in front of the lights was a ravishing, refined beauty who never could have followed him out of a jungle. No, the woman in the tight jumpsuit who spoke in the microphone wasn't the girl whose mental picture he looked at every night. His Ginny wasn't a girl anymore.

Matt turned toward the bar and picked up his beer. It had been a mistake to come, he knew that now. One look at her told him he was crazy to think that after all the years he had any more to offer her. He lifted his beer and saw his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His hair had receded and ... he realized he was older, too.

Her voice filled the room, making the old familiar tingle crawl up his spine. Her words tore through his heart and embedded in his soul. He realized he could remember every word she'd ever spoken to him and every time they'd made love. He could especially remember when she touched his face that last time at the hospital. And remembering all that, he could not force himself to leave. He was stuck in his seat. Her songs, her voice, glued him there.

Her last song got her a standing ovation, and she stood there like a queen, accepting the adoration of her audience, then bowed her head as if saying good-bye forever. When she left the stage, she raised her chin proudly and walked off without looking back.

Matt shook his head with a smile, and thought, "You've become quite a lady, my litde Ginny." He got up to leave, but then stopped to look at the closed door at the side of the stage.

A hostess tapped his shoulder. "Can I get you another drink?"

"No ma'am . . . well, do you think you could do me a favor. Could you give a note to Miss Salin for me."

"Who?"

"I'm sorry, to Ginny, we're old friends."

The waitress eyed him with a sly grin. "Sure you are."

Matt returned the smile. He wouldn't have believed himself, either. He took out his billfold and gave the hostess a ten dollar bill. "Could you give her a note from an admirer?"

The hostess looked into the eyes of the good-looking customer and smiled again. "Sure, I've got to take a drink to her anyway. Keep your money, but if she doesn't read it, I will. I like admirers! I'll get her drink and be back for the note."

The pretty hostess walked toward the bar as Matt pulled out his pen and leaned over a table, picking up a napkin.

The hostess returned a minute later. Matt handed her the folded napkin and she gave him one in return.

"My number is on the back," she said with a wink.

Virginia sat in a chair, staring at herself in the large mirror. She had put on a good show, she thought, and been a trouper for not going ahead and singing her new song. She smiled wryly at herself. It wasn't that good a song anyway.

A knock at the door dissolved her smile and she grabbed for a Kleenex to start wiping off her makeup. "Come in."

"Ma'am, here is your drink . . . and a gendeman at the bar asked me to give you this note."

Virginia picked up the drink from the tray and flipped open the napkin. She thought for a moment her heart had stopped beating, as a rush of memories raced through her mind. The glass slipped from her shaking hand onto the carpeted floor with a thud.

Virginia jumped to her feet. Only one man in the whole world could have written the note. Only one man knew the one word that she'd dreamed of so many times for so many nights. He was here, after all the lonely years, after so long a time she'd almost forgotten .... She dropped the napkin and ran for the door.

The hostess bent over to pick up the glass, but instead picked up the note. She turned the napkin over and shook her head. Why a single word could make a celebrity act like that was beyond her, especially such a dumb word as "Click."

Washington, D. C., November 13, 1982

Two women and two young boys sat beside a barren oak to break the wind's cold chill. Scattered on the grass mall around them were thousands of veterans and their families. All were waiting for the Vietnam Memorial parade to begin.

Mary Ann began to raise her coat collar, but suddenly reached out, slapping her son's hand. "No more cookies!"

"Mom."

"You heard me. Sit next to your brother and put the blanket up over you both before you eatch your death."

"But, Mom."

"Do it!" Mary Ann raised her collar, shivering, and looked at Virginia. "When is Matt going to make an honest woman of you?"

Virginia looked at the two boys and smiled at Mary Ann's directness. Her friend hadn't changed.

"It's going to take time. We're different people than we were in Vietnam."

Mary Ann frowned. "Virginia, you've been going together for six years. You can't tell me you don't love each other. My God, I've seen how you look at one another. What is it, Gin?"

Virginia lowered her eyes, knowing she couldn't hide her feelings from Mary Ann. "Matt doesn't want the responsibility." Virginia raised her head and looked into her friend's eyes. "He still feels he failed the team and he doesn't want to fail with me. That's the way he explains it. Living together he can handle, but not marriage. He didn't want to come here, you know. I forced him. It almost broke us up but I insisted and told him I'd leave him if he didn't. This . . . this getting together with his friends I thought might help."

Mary Ann reached out and took Virginia's hand. "You were right in making him come. It has helped. It's helped us all." She patted Virginia's hand, knowing she'd better change the subject, and broke into a smile. "You should see yourself. You sure don't look like your album cover now."

Virginia laughed and wrapped her hands around the warm thermos. "That was years ago." Virginia was wearing Matt's old Army field jacket, jeans, and a stocking cap pulled down over her ears.

Mary Ann patted her coat. "Well, at least you haven't gained weight like I have. I must look awfully fat to you."

Virginia smiled again at her old friend. Mary Ann had gained a few pounds through her hips, but she was still a beautiful woman. "No, you look great. Everybody looks great, don't they?"