Making Waves (34 page)

For the next few days following my talk with Sarah at the cemetery, I went about my business, fixing hair and cooking and cleaning, as though nothing had happened. But it was like I was marking time. I could feel it in the air. It wouldn't be long now before something would happen. I was getting knots in my stomach trying to be all nice and friendly with my customers, and normal with Tim. He was so quiet and moody himself that he didn't even notice me acting this way. I jumped every time the phone rang, or someone came in the shop.

It was Ellis who got me out of the house, finally. Thursday she called me, having a fit for me to go with her to the study club at Mrs. Junkin's house next door.

It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do, and I told her so. Lord, sitting over there with a bunch of blue-haired old ladies, listening to Ima Holliman, the librarian from Mt. Zion, talk about some boring old book! What on earth could Ellis be thinking about? Mrs. Junkin had already invited me, she did every time, and I'd made up some excuse not to go. But this time, Ellis begged me.

“Donnette, please! I don't know all those ladies, but you do—please go with me. And I want to talk to you about Dinky and Glenda, too.”

Well, I sure didn't want to get her on that subject again. I thought Glenda Rountree better thank her lucky stars a man like Dink was interested in her. Ellis could be so crazy sometimes. But like a fool, I let her talk me into it. You just can't help but like Ellis, prissy as she can be sometimes. She tries so hard and she wants so bad to make something of herself. So I agreed to meet her that night after supper, at Mrs. Junkin's study club.

I was real surprised that Tim wasn't going to football practice. As a matter of fact, he was acting unusually quiet and strange at supper. He never said a word to me, sopping up rutabagas and pot liquor with the cornbread I'd made just the way he liked it, not carrying on about it like he usually does. Maybe he was more worried about Tommy quarterbacking the team than I'd thought. Of course, it could be that all the publicity Tommy was getting as Tim's brother was bringing the past back to him. I'd had two reporters call me just the week before, wanting to do a story on Tim two years after the accident. What ghouls those people could be! I told them to leave us alone, and I sure didn't tell Tim about them calling me.

You couldn't always tell about Tim. I think I know him so well, but sometimes he can be downright strange.

After supper I got dressed, then went to tell Tim that I was going to the study club. I knew he'd be surprised, because I'd always said I'd never be caught dead going to a prissy ladies' meeting like the garden or study club. Only thing me and Aunt Essie used to fuss about, when she tried to get me to go to her missionary society.

Tim was in the den. I figured he was watching a ballgame on TV, but no, he was just sitting there in the dark. I turned a lamp on and he almost jumped out of his skin.

Then I saw that he had something in his hand. It was the drawing he'd done for the sign out front. But how could he be looking at it in the dark? I swear, all I needed now was for him to turn weird on me.

“Tim? You okay, honey?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“You don't sound like it. You want to talk?”

He looked down at the drawing he held in his hand. “No. Not now, hon. I need to think some first, okay? Where you going?”

“Next door. To Mrs. Junkin's study club. Ellis wants me to go with her.”

Instead of being surprised, he didn't say anything. He just nodded, and continued to stare down at his hands.

“Okay. What time will you be back?” he asked me, finally.

“I don't know—not late. Why?”

“I may go out.”

“To practice?”

“No, they practiced this afternoon. Just walking. I kinda need to think some, by myself.”

I didn't like that much, but I didn't let on.

“Okay,” I said.

I went over and gave him a light kiss on top of his head, but he still didn't move.

“Well. I'll be home soon. Maybe then you'll feel like talking,” I said, smoothing his hair down.

“Maybe.”

I was miserable at the study club and I wished to God that I hadn't gone. Walking over to the parsonage, I remembered suddenly that Tim had gotten a phone call that afternoon, and that's when his moodiness really started up, even worse than it had been these last few days. He'd talked so quietly I couldn't tell who he was talking to. I'd asked him if it was Coach, or Tommy, but he muttered something and didn't really answer me. Now I wondered. Surely it wasn't Sarah, asking him about that scholarship again. I was worried sick about him, about the whole situation. Something just didn't feel right about it. But I was committed now—I had to go on to this meeting, regardless if something was telling me I should be with Tim instead.

I felt sorry for Ellis; she had dressed fit to kill in a short-skirted silk outfit she'd gotten at Parisian's in Birmingham. Looks like she'd know by now that the ladies of Clarksville don't dress up that much, especially for something like the study club. Bless her heart, she really looked ridiculous. And I swear, she was wearing real diamond drop earrings hanging from her ears! To the study club—she ought to know better.

Soon as I got there, I tried to introduce Ellis to everyone and make her feel comfortable, but the women were all staring at her so hard that it wasn't easy. And of course big-mouth Edna Earl Andrews was there. The first thing we heard her say when we came in was, “Who on earth is that woman with Donnette Sullivan?” I imagine they heard her all the way to Mt. Zion, too.

After speaking to all the old ladies there, and dragging poor Ellis around with me, I watched as they began to select seats in the Junkins' little living room. I realized then that I'd never sit through the study club meeting. I kept seeing Tim sitting in the dark, all troubled and torn up. It certainly wasn't like him to go out walking by himself after dark, either. I'd never sit still and listen to a thirty-minute talk on how to decorate your home with decoupage. I had to get out, right now, before the meeting got under way.

“Ellis!” I grabbed her arm and whispered before she could seat herself in the living room. “Listen, I've got an upset stomach. I've got to go home.”

Ellis turned big, over-made-up eyes on me. Now, why didn't she keep her makeup like I'd shown her? Simple blues and greens.

“Wait, Donnette, I've got to tell you something,” she whispered back.

“If it's about Dinky and Glenda, then—”

“It's about Taylor.”

“What?” Oh, please, God. Let her say that he's gone back to school, I silently prayed.

“I was going to wait and tell you after the meeting, so you wouldn't get upset,” she whispered, looking around to see if anyone was listening. My stomach did a flip-flop. “Oh, honey, I hate to have to tell you. But Taylor's going to stay.”

Oh, God. “What—what do you mean?”

“Him and Daddy Clark had a big fight yesterday. Hamilton told his granddaddy about Taylor and that floozie Sarah woman, and Daddy Clark like to have had a hissy fit. And it upset Aunt Della so much that she had a spell, scared us all to death. So Taylor told Daddy Clark that he was going to transfer to Alabama, stay here in Clarksville and take care of his Aunt Della.” She looked at me sadly. “Oh, Donnette. I hate to have to tell you. Maybe he won't. You know you can't believe anything he says.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. I couldn't take this right now. “Listen, Ellis, I'm serious. I'm sick at my stomach. I'm going to leave now, okay? You got to tell Mrs. Junkin for me.”

“No! Donnette, please, don't leave me here!”

“I can't help it, Ellis. Please, tell Mrs. Junkin I got a upset stomach, okay? You'll do fine.” And I got out of that house before Ellis could say another word in protest.

I slipped out the back door of the Junkin house and started over to our house next door. Just as I got to the back porch steps, something in front caught my eye. I don't even know what made me turn and look, but I did.

A dark figure was walking away from the front of our house and was almost to the Junkins'. From here I could see the lights on in their living room, and through the open windows, I could hear the voices of the women seated in their meeting. The light of a lamp caught the sparkle of Ellis's diamond drop earrings.

At first I thought it was someone going to the meeting, but they hurried past the Junkins' house and down the sidewalk. I realized then that it was Tim. And he wasn't walking slow like he was deep in thought, either. He was going along like he knew exactly where he was headed. When he walked that fast, his limp was much more noticeable.

“Tim!” I called out to him, but an eighteen-wheeler roared by on the Columbus Highway, and he didn't hear me.

“Tim, wait!” I called again, but he was almost to the end of the street by then. Big oak trees hung over the sidewalk and I couldn't half see him for their dark shadows. Without even thinking, I took out after him.

I couldn't catch up with him. I was fixing to call after him again, but something told me not to. Where in the hell could he be going? I wisht to God that I hadn't worn my new heels to that meeting; I could barely walk in them. I hadn't worn any hose, so I reached down to take them off. While I was stopped to do so, I lost Tim.

Barefoot now, my shoes in my hands, I hurried down to the end of Magnolia Street, the next street over from us, and looked around. Nothing ahead of me but the back road to Columbus, the one people use to take before the new highway came through. I knew for sure that Tim wasn't going to be walking the twenty-five miles to Columbus tonight! Besides, there wasn't a thing wrong with his pickup, that I knew of. Tim had been acting strange as all get-out lately, but he had never done nothing this weird. I got kind of scared then. Maybe he was having some kind of delayed reaction to the car wreck, or a scar on his brain or something. He'd been in a coma for days after the accident.

I looked down Railroad Street to my left—nothing there but rundown houses. I couldn't think of a soul that Tim would be going to see there. At least Sarah and all the other big houses were in the opposite direction, so I knew he wasn't running after her. Then I stepped across to the street on my right, trying to remember what was down there. Not many houses at all. Pleese Davis lived down there, and everybody knows he bootlegs liquor, but Tim hadn't ever touched it. Surely he wasn't turning into an alcoholic now.

Then I remembered where this street eventually led, and I felt like a pure fool. I started walking down it anyway, since I'd come this far. Me and Tim could have a good laugh when I caught up with him, make both of us feel better.

This street wound around the back way to the high school. It came up behind the football stadium! I'd been so worked up that I'd forgotten about football practice tonight.

I stepped carefully around the broken glass on the sidewalk as I made my way down the dark street to the stadium. There were no streetlights here, just the bright moonlight to light the way. I sure felt ridiculous, too. In all my years with Tim, I'd never been so suspicious of him before. Wait until I told him, I thought—it would tickle him good.

The football stadium loomed ahead, unlighted and kind of scary-looking in the white moonlight, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was no practice here tonight—I remembered plain as day Tim saying they'd practiced this afternoon. The stadium was completely dark and quiet. There was no one here. Oh, but I was wrong again. Dead ahead of me, walking through the back gates, was Tim. Again I started to call out to him and stopped myself. A shiver went over me. What in God's name was he doing here? I was really scared now, thinking that he might be having some kind of nervous breakdown. I even thought of running and getting Sarah Williams—surely she was trained to know what to do. But I didn't; I just stumbled barefoot after Tim as he went into that dark, empty football stadium.

He didn't go far. Just as he got to the bleachers, he stopped. Instinctively I stepped back so that he wouldn't see me. The little concrete locker room for the visiting team was close by, so I stepped over there in its shadow.

Tim couldn't see me, but I could see him plain as day. His hair gleamed in that pale moonlight, and his white tee shirt looked almost silver. He just stood there for a minute, his left hand deep in his jeans pocket, and looked around.

Again I felt kind of foolish. Just because Tim seemed different from the others didn't mean that he didn't like to relive his glory days on the football field. I bet he came out here a lot and thought about the good old days. Nothing really crazy about that. I was sure he would not want me to know, so I began to back out quietly. I wouldn't let on that I'd seen this.

Suddenly someone stood up in the bleachers and walked down to where Tim stood alone. I froze where I was. It was Taylor Dupree.

“Tim,” I heard Taylor say softly in that unmistakable voice of his. “Thank you for coming.”

Like at their meeting in the Mt. Zion cafe the other night, both of them just stood there and stared at each other. Taylor came down to where Tim was standing in the grass, and he stood in front of him.