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Authors: Cassandra King

Making Waves (33 page)

BOOK: Making Waves
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Sarah and me both were somewhat winded when we got over to the little corner section of the cemetery where Miss Maudie was buried, and both of us stood taking deep breaths and looking around. Miss Maudie's grave was nothing now but a big mound of red clay. The casket wreath of red roses lay on top of it. Sarah bent over and began pulling dead flowers off the wreaths and straightening up the stands that'd fallen over.

“I'd planned to check on her before now,” she told me as she yanked the wilted flowers ruthlessly from the pretty arrangements. “When my ex-husband's father died, kids came out and vandalized the gravesite. I couldn't stand it if anybody did that to Aunt Maudie's.”

There was the sound of thunder in the distance, and the smell of rain in the rose-scented air. I stood silent for a minute, then it seemed only natural that I help Sarah pick off some of the dead flowers.

“I was surprised to find out how long it takes for a tombstone to be ready,” she remarked as she straightened herself up and stretched like a cat. I pressed the wire frames of the wreaths firmly into the ground so they wouldn't fall over again. I was surprised to turn and see Sarah standing there just looking at me.

“Come on,” she said to me. “Let's go find the Clark plot.”

She led the way and we found the old graves of the Clarks, but not before stopping and looking at some of the others on the way. It's a big cemetery. Seems like there's a lot more people out there than there are in Clarksville.

I really wasn't that interested in the Clark family graves, and neither was Sarah, as it turned out. Instead, she'd remembered there was a big old magnolia tree on their plot, with a granite bench in the shade under it, and that's why she suggested we go there. We sat side by side on that bench, right across from the grave of Hiram Aldophous and Frances Della Clark, the parents of Miss Della Clark Dean, Taylor's aunt.

“You don't seem particularly bothered by graveyards, Donnette, like a lot of people your age are,” Sarah said, looking at the rows of graves spread out as far as we could see from the bench.

I shrugged. “Well, I don't like them all that much, but they don't really bother me. I mean, people get born and then they die.”

She smiled at me. “If only it were that simple. It's the stuff in between that causes us so many problems, isn't it?”

“Yeah. But people make their own misery, lots of times.” I looked at the graves and realized how very peaceful it was here. I'd never known such a peaceful place.

“Well. Sometimes. But sometimes we have it thrust upon us, as you well know.”

We were silent a minute, and then she turned to face me.

“But that's not really what we came to talk about, is it? Why don't you tell me what I'm doing that's bothering you?” she asked.

“I—I appreciate your offer of the scholarship, Sarah, I really do. But I think it'd be better if you didn't talk to Tim anymore about it,” I blurted out.

Sarah sat quietly for a minute, looking at me puzzled. I felt uneasy and turned slightly from her, looking at the graves down the hill from us.

“Donnette, I can't understand for the life of me how you can feel that way. Perhaps you can tell me where you're coming from.”

I knew she had the right to ask that, but still I resented it. I didn't have to explain anything to her, if I didn't want to. Besides, I wasn't sure I could make her see it from my point of view.

“Well. Let's just say that I think you may have an ulterior motive for telling Tim about that scholarship,” I finally said.

Again, she looked puzzled. “What kind of motive?”

But I wouldn't answer her. If she was so smart, she could figure it out herself. Damn if she didn't reach over and put her hand on my arm again. I've never seen anyone who liked to touch people like she does. It took all I could do to not jerk my arm away.

“Donnette, can't you see how gifted Tim is?”

“I know he can draw good—he always could. But he's no artist. Folks around here think drawing and stuff like that's sissy.”

Again, she studied me before replying. “I assume that's why Tim never developed his talent, that kind of small-town thinking,” she said, rather sharply. “But Donnette, please believe me. I am completely serious about this scholarship for Tim. I'm committed to seeing that he takes it—I certainly hope that you will be, too.”

I thought for a minute. In spite of my misgivings, she sounded so sincere I could see that she had a point. “I—I reckon Miss Maudie would have loved to see Tim do this. Sounds like something she'd been tickled about,” I admitted.

Sarah nodded and smiled. “Oh, yes. She would have been very pleased to help him develop his talent.”

“She always loved Tim. But Tim an artist—I just don't know about that!”

“Donnette, there are any number of things Tim could do with an art degree. Matter of fact, he would probably have to. Most artists can't support themselves strictly with their art. Tim could teach. Don't you think he'd like that?”

I thought of Tim with Tommy, and him working with the other boys on the football team. He'd originally wanted to be a coach, so he'd like teaching. He was sure good working with kids.

“And he could drive over to the university, Donnette. You wouldn't have to uproot, since you're just getting your business established,” Sarah continued, so earnestly.

That was true, all right. I wanted to believe that Sarah might be right and that I should give this idea more thought.

“Well?” Sarah said, with a smile. “What do you think?”

“I don't know, Sarah. It—well, it sounds like it might be something good for Tim, maybe.”

“Oh, Donnette. If only I could make you see what this would do for Tim. I feel sure that this could be just the thing to help him get over these last two years. I can only imagine how awful it must have been for him, to lose everything like he did in that accident! And how awful it was for you, too.” She sounded so sweet and convincing, so concerned.

But wait a minute—something she said made me stop and think: How did she know so much about Tim, and how these last two years had been for him?

I turned and looked at her suspiciously. “How come you know so much about Tim?”

She seemed a little taken back by my question, then it hit me. What a fool I was—what a damn fool! Taylor Dupree put her up to this. Oh, my God, why hadn't I realized that before!

“It's Taylor, ain't it, Sarah?”

“What about Taylor?” She tried to look puzzled.

“Listen, what you and Taylor Dupree do when you get together is none of my business; I don't even want to think about it, much less hear it. But if he is the one—”

“Wait a minute!” Sarah stared at me, grabbing my arm. “What do you mean—what Taylor and I do when we get together?”

“It ain't none of my business.”

“Donnette!” Suddenly Sarah put her head down in her hands. “Oh, shit. It's true. Taylor has told me that people here would misinterpret things—guess I've been away from Zion County longer than I realized.” She raised her head and looked at me. “What have you heard?”

I felt my face getting hot. “Well—you know—”

Sarah stared at me, astonished. If I didn't know Taylor as well as I did, I could almost believe she was genuinely shocked.

“Donnette, listen to me. I can't help what you choose to believe about this. Taylor is a deeply troubled young man as well as the son of my friend, Charlotte. I've been trying to help him. Can you understand that?”

“Listen yourself. I don't
want
to understand it. I don't want to even hear his name. All I want to know is whether or not Taylor had anything to do with that scholarship offer of yours.”

But I knew it. Deep down in me, I knew it. It was Taylor who gave her the idea of making the offer to Tim!

Sarah shook her head. “He has nothing at all to do with the fact that Tim Sullivan is a gifted young man who should be given a chance to do something with his life besides waste away in this hick town!”

We stared at each other. “That's
not
what I asked you, Sarah,” I said. “Just tell me that Taylor didn't put you up to this.”

“Donnette, don't you love Tim? Don't you want what is best for him here?”

“All I want to know is if Taylor had anything to do with it.”

“What possible difference could that make?”

I'd heard enough. I jumped up and started walking like a madman, getting away from her. I'd gotten almost to the gate when she caught up with me and grabbed my arm.

“Donnette, wait. Don't run away—we need to talk all this out.”

“Let go of me! Leave us alone—go back to Florida where you came from, Sarah Williams.”

“Come on, Donnette. I'm a therapist; I can help you. You have
got
to talk all of this out—you can't stay in denial the rest of your life.” She wouldn't let go of my arm.

“You're Taylor's friend, that's all I need to know,” I said. “Well, I'm glad that you can help him, because he sure needs it. He's a crazy son-of-a-bitch who almost ruined Tim's life, that's what he is. And because he's a Clark, he thought he could just walk away and everything would be all right.” I was so mad, I was about to cry. “Well, take a good look at Taylor, Sarah. And then take a look at Tim. Tim's crippled, and he will be all of his life. What about Taylor—how does he look to you now?”

“Taylor's crippled, too, Donnette. Emotionally he will always be, because of what happened that night. He didn't run off because he didn't care—he ran off because he couldn't deal with the pain and guilt he experienced. My God—he felt like he'd ruined his best friend's whole life; of course he went crazy. Can't you understand that?”


No!
Because I don't care about Taylor—I only care about Tim.” I was so upset now I wouldn't even look at her.

“If you care that much about him, you'll see to it that he gets another chance! A chance to make something of his life. Taylor wants that—I'll admit it to you. He's the one who told me about Tim's talent. And then the sign appeared. Don't you see—the sign that he made for you! Donnette, you've
got
to let Tim do this. And you've got to let Taylor do this, too.”

“Never. Never.”

Again, I started to leave her. I just couldn't listen to any more. But again, Sarah caught up with me, right outside the cemetery gate this time. She stopped me and turned me around to look at her.

“Okay, Donnette. Go on home now. I'm not going to keep chasing you. But there's something here you've got to decide.”

She took a deep breath and let go of my arm. We stared at each other, both of us breathing hard after all the running around we were doing.

“This is what you must decide, and only you can do it—do you love Tim enough to forget how much you hate Taylor Dupree? Because if you do, you'll give Tim the chance he deserves to make something of his life. You'll forget about your hatred of Taylor because it's not what's important here anyway.”

I jerked away from her, still refusing to hear what she was saying to me. Shaking her head, Sarah turned and walked away, back toward the cemetery, pausing only to throw one more thing at me over her shoulder.

“Think about it, Donnette. You know where to find me if you want to talk.”

I stood for a minute watching her, watching her walk back over to her family's plot, and then I turned and began walking home. Lightning flashed suddenly, and it started to rain.

For once, I was glad that Tim was so busy with the football team. They'd lost the game last Friday night against County High, and everybody in town was in mourning, especially Tommy and Coach Mills.

Tim took it real well; he said that Tommy showed some real poise and he thought he could work with him on some ways to improve before the game next Friday night. So I didn't see much of him during the week that followed. I was grateful for the distraction of the game because he didn't mention the scholarship again. He didn't bring it up for a whole week, and neither did I.

But I knew Tim was troubled, and I knew it wasn't about the football game, though I didn't dare say anything to him. I just couldn't. Gone was the relaxed way he'd been since that night we sat on the porch and planned to name the shop; everything had changed since Taylor Dupree came back into town, as I knew it would. It hurt me real bad to see Tim sitting and staring, deep in thought, that tormented expression on his face again. All of a sudden I felt my hopes of things being right vanish right before my eyes, like a puff of wind on a dandelion.

Oh, was I right feeling the way I did the night Tim ran into Taylor at the Catfish Cabin, after thinking he was out of our lives for good! I knew his return would bring nothing but trouble. If only he'd stayed away—oh, God! Things were just getting better when he came back into our lives. Him, and now Sarah Williams, probing around, interfering, telling me what was good for Tim and what wasn't. I wish everybody would just leave us alone!

BOOK: Making Waves
11.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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