Playing by Heart (27 page)

Be near, Lord Jesus
.
My hope is built on nothing less.

The ground seemed to settle beneath my feet even though my heart pattered at a faster gait.
Boil, pot. Boil.

I felt his presence, but refused to turn.

“I came tonight, Lula, because I thought you ought to know—and I didn't want you to hear it from anyone else.”

Miss
Morrison.
The pounding in my chest rose into my ears. My hands trembled. Another moment of silence and I feared I'd fly apart. A deep breath. A slow turn.

His gaze met mine. “I've enlisted.”

C
HET

Lula's eyes squeezed shut. Then the hush between us stretched long and heavy, like one of Ma's quilts on washing day. The smother of it made me wonder if I'd misread everything, if she had cared for me at all.

“It won't matter much to you, I know,” I mumbled.

Her eyes flashed to mine, as angry as the bubbling from the range behind her. The bitter smell of burnt coffee billowed into the room. I wrapped a towel around my hand and pulled the pot from burner to warming shelf as I searched for something to say.

How could I ask for the right to hold her—to love her—for the rest of my life? I'd forfeited any thought of that when I enlisted. I'd leave Dunn sooner than she would, and with no certainty of return. My jaw tightened. My fingers clenched and then flexed. Even if I thought she loved me, I couldn't tie her to a dead man.

“Thank you for taking care of Ma. She's very grateful for your—”

A knock sounded, and Lula started for the door. I picked up
the candle and followed, stopped short when the light in my hand fell on Mr. Morrison and Principal Gray.

Principal Gray's eyes locked on mine. My mouth went dry. Lula and I alone. In her house. At night. But this time, the witness wasn't Pastor Reynolds, willing to believe the best of us. This was Mr. Morrison, school board member. Father of the girl who'd taken up Miss Delancey's abandoned pursuit. The one batting her eyes and trying to help. Listening to my conversation with Ma and making sure word got to her father. And quick.

I stepped in front of Lula. “I can explain everything.”

Principal Gray's gaze slid to the floor. He cleared his throat, pinched the crease in his hat. “We cannot have any appearance of impropriety among our teaching staff. You understand.”

“But the children are upstairs,” Lula whispered as her hands wrung in front of her.

“Miss Bowman, you are in breach of your teaching contract. You've been relieved of your duties. Please do not report to school again.”

A tear slipped down Lula's pale cheek. Anger twisted inside me like the tower of cloud earlier that afternoon. Sarah Morrison had a powerful father and plenty of money. She didn't lack for admirers. So why, like Miss Delancey, had she set her sights on me for a husband? Why ruin my chance at happiness?

She'd done more than play havoc with my heart. She'd cost Lula her job. Not just this one, every one. Lula had already sacrificed that mathematics prize to take care of Jewel. Now, because of me, the rest of her dreams had been ground to dust, too.

I thrust the candle into Lula's hands, led Principal Gray and Mr. Morrison onto the porch, and shut the door behind us. “You can't do this. It's not right. There is nothing—”

“This isn't about you, Mr. Vaughn. Not yet.” Mr. Morrison's
finger wagged in my face. Then he jogged down the steps and walked away.

I gripped the porch railing, almost sure I could snap it in half. I'd been the one who compromised her reputation. Why shouldn't this be about me?

Principal Gray set his hat on his head. “I'm sorry, Chet.” He glanced at the closed door. “For both of you.” He left more slowly, as if weighted by the burden of what he'd been asked to do.

I slumped against the house. Then I paced across the porch twice, a low growl in my throat. Lula didn't deserve this. I had to explain, to apologize. But as my hand connected with the door knob, the bolt shifted and clicked into place and the light from the window vanished to black.

Principal Gray would not be moved. His hands were tied, he said, by the school board. But I knew he meant by Mr. Morrison.

Two days later, with electric service restored and much of the damage cleaned up, school resumed. I kept to my classroom, not wanting to cross any path that would remind me of Lula. Like I needed any reminders.

In the late afternoon, I stood in front of the shell of our house. With the help of a horse and wagon from the livery stable, my Tin Lizzie had been towed out of the wall. I walked around my auto, noting the dings and dents on the frame before trying to crank it to life. The engine sputtered and coughed, but eventually resurrected. If only my heart would do the same.

I steered it out of the yard and parked on the street. I'd drive it to Pastor Reynolds' house later, grateful for his offer of a place to stay for Ma and me until we could make other arrangements.

My stomach twisted as I climbed out of the car, set a foot on the running board, and rested my arms on the dimpled leather roof. All my life I'd believed that God could—and would—bring beauty from ashes. But since the day the telegram about Clay had arrived, the ashes had been piling higher than my faith.

After salvaging a few of our personal items, I motored through streets swept clean, only an occasional felled tree or boarded up window left as reminders of the power of the storm. The motorcar bounced into the grassy place between the parsonage and the church. With the engine silent, I prayed for Ma to be willing to consider a new type of living situation, like a room in a boardinghouse where there would be people around her. Where she'd have to remain engaged in life, no matter what happened to me. And she wouldn't need to worry over the little things to be maintained in a house. The storm insurance would more than cover her expenses, especially in conjunction with my army pay.

I climbed from my car. Piano music bled through the walls and windows of the church. My heart twisted. Lula? I crept closer to the building, trying to place the tune, familiar and yet not quite right. Slower than usual, maybe? I pressed my ear to a smooth board, humming until the words and music connected in my head.

The light in your eyes makes the bright stars grow pale,

They're jealous as jealous can be;

But one word or sign tells them all you are mine—

A crash of notes. I cringed, stepped backward. Then the music began again. More timid this time. Hesitant.

Then stronger. Louder. But not the same song as before.

A voice joined the chords, sure and strong. “‘On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.'”

I hung my head. Lula might have enough faith to believe that, but I'd sunk so far in the sand I expected it to close over my head and bury me at any moment.

There'd been no service for Clay. Not with the chaos of the tornado and my enlistment. A few days later, after a physical examination, I boarded the train for Kansas, like Pa had. I only hoped I'd acquit myself more honorably. Make Ma proud and honor Clay's short service. Blaze moped at the news. I didn't blame him, after the way I'd pushed him toward graduation and then abandoned him before it arrived. But at least he and Archie seemed to have found a mutual truce on the matter, for Blaze was still attending school every day.

Ma had taken my suggestion about the boardinghouse surprisingly well. So well it alarmed me. She settled into two rooms at Mrs. Morton's while I stayed the final few days with Pastor Reynolds and his family. I'd seen Lula only at church, her face drawn, her dresses hanging on a slimmer form. I didn't approach her, and she steered clear of me.

Once I arrived at Fort Riley, I didn't have time to think. I received my uniform, a blanket, even underwear, all government issue. A shaving kit and some hard tack. A rifle and bayonet, as well.

My waking hours belonged to the army. And that was fine by me. Better to put those I'd left behind out of mind. Focus on the task at hand. Most days, that worked. Other times, like during guard duty or kitchen duty, my mind drifted home. I
tried to focus those thoughts on Ma, but a pair of dark, serious eyes intruded far too often and stayed far too long. I'd come to Fort Riley hoping to escape all my feelings for Lula. I hadn't imagined they'd intensify.

My first seven-day pass came four weeks after my arrival. Clay hadn't used his to come home, and Ma had felt the slight. Besides, Ma's last letter had mentioned Lula was still in town. Could I find the courage to admit my love to her? If not, how would I find the strength to do what had to be done in the trenches?

I plunked down my money and boarded the train to Oklahoma.

L
ULA

“Why don't you sit down and play something? You're as unsettled as Davina tonight.” Jewel cradled the squalling baby in her arms and swung her back and forth. I fought down a sob, wishing someone would attempt to soothe my irascible spirit. But no remedy would suffice.

I wandered the small room, adjusting knickknacks, picking lint from the rug, straightening the crocheted doilies that covered every surface. Five weeks since I'd been fired. Five weeks without a paycheck. At least Don and Janice had believed me instead of the school board. They'd each offered to help with the bills for a while, and Bo was providing money, as well.

But what was I to do now? I wouldn't be able to get another teaching job, so more schooling would do me no good. Bo would take on a family of six in the near future. He didn't need a spinster sister-in-law added to that. Janice and Don had full households, as well. And Daddy—we all agreed not to tell Daddy. As the light of his life faded with each passing day, it
seemed best to let him go in peace, believing I would return to the university and fulfill our dream. His dream.

At least Pastor Reynolds had kept me on as church pianist, in spite of the murmured dissent. But playing in front of the congregation had become a trial of my will again instead of a pleasure.

I trailed a finger across the top of Jewel's piano but couldn't settle at the keys. The curtains billowed out with the spring breeze and twilight bathed the room in a gentle glow. JC turned on the gramophone. The kids sang and danced, no doubt remembering times when their daddy had joined them. But Bo would make new memories with them now, help ease the pain of missing Davy. I prayed his quiet love would hold the same healing balm for Jewel.

My sister smiled at me from the sofa, but her eyes remained sad. “Chet leaves again in the morning, you know.”

I plopped down beside her, rubbed the fuzz on Davina's head, and ignored her words.

“You never told him, did you?”

Fire burst into my cheeks as I glanced up at her, thankful for the music and the kids' commotion to cover our conversation. “Tell who what?”

“Chet. You let him go away to the army without telling him you cared.”

A stray thread on the sofa caught my attention. I picked at it, tried to break it at the base. But it wouldn't budge. I'd given myself to Chet's game of basketball, to his kiss, to his mother's safety without thought of my own. In return, he gave me Fruity Lu. Unable to finish out the year of school. Unable to continue her education. He hadn't spoken to me since the day Mr. Morrison and Principal Gray had come to Jewel's house.

Davina's mewl turned to hiccups. I eased her out of Jewel's arms and cuddled my niece close, her head resting in the crook where my neck met my shoulder.

If only I'd let him back in the house. If only he'd later sought me out to apologize. “I guess he couldn't see how I felt—”

Jewel snorted, then giggled, then shook with laughter. “If I'd waited until Davy ‘saw how I felt,' I'd still be a spinster waiting for him to propose.”

My eyes stretched wide.

“Oh, Lula! I loved that man to distraction, but he wouldn't have recognized it unless I'd helped him along a bit.”

My mouth dropped open. “You mean you flirted?”

Jewel shrugged, her eyes downcast. “Some might call it that, but I was never coy or evasive. I simply put myself in his path and let him know he had my heart. Not in words, you understand. In a look. A touch of the hand. A preference for his company over that of my girlfriends.”

I poked my finger in Davina's mouth to quiet her. I'd assumed Davy had simply fallen for Jewel, declared his love, and she'd responded. This information turned everything on its head. “But you didn't do all that with Bo.”

Her expression softened, almost as if warding off pain. “No, it was different with Bo. He knew my heart before I did.” Pink scattered across her cheeks before her arm cradled my shoulders as gently as she'd cradled Davina. “Don't miss this, Lula. Not even for the satisfaction of saving your pride.”

I'd seen Miss Morrison wave a letter he'd written her from camp a couple of weeks ago. Likely he'd seen her while he was home. The humiliation still stung. I had no job, no scholarship, no school money. If I demonstrated my feelings for him now, would he think my affections were tied to desperation? Would
he once again try to do the honorable thing without attention to his heart? If a dutiful marriage was my most hopeful future, I'd take my chances on being alone.

I let Trula swing me in a circle to “Livery Stable Blues,” losing myself in the music I'd once disdained. If these months had taught me anything it was that music—all music—fed my soul in a way nothing else did. Not even numbers. At least I'd always have that, even if I had nothing else.

A banging at the front door drew Jewel into the hall. I didn't think Bo'd get another pass for a week or so, but he had a way of sweet-talking his superior officers to get leave.

“Lula?” Jewel called. I ceased spinning, trying to catch my breath and still the dizziness, holding together the knot of hair at the nape of my neck that threatened to unfurl in a mass of tangles down my back.

Chet stepped into the room, clad in khaki, a wide-brimmed hat beneath one arm. I reached for the back of a chair.

“Come, children. We'll have some bread and butter in the kitchen.” Jewel shooed her brood away, leaving the room void of distraction, except for the scratch of the needle at the end of the recording.

My eyes followed Chet across the room as he silenced the noise. He looked different. Taller somehow. More serious, if possible.

He took my hand and led me to the sofa. My heart drummed behind my chest as the temperature in the room rose to midsummer. I wanted a fan, a sliver of ice, a glass of tea. His presence held me motionless and sent every thought fleeing from my head. I couldn't even recall Jewel's advice.

He cleared his throat, studied my fingers resting against his palm. “How are you, Lula?”

I wet my lips. “Fine. And you?” My voice squeaked a little. I winced.

The quiet
tick-tock
of the mantel clock filled the room. He cleared his throat again. “I came home on a seven-day pass.” He looked at me as if needing an answer.

I swallowed, thrashed about in my mind for something to say. “That's nice.”

His gaze returned to my hand, his expression squeezing and pinching. And then the realization hit: He was shipping out. His mother would be alone. It troubled him.

Louise and I had come to understand each other as she sat listening to my reluctant performances, even before I realized who she was. Over the weeks Chet had been gone, I'd been dropping by the boardinghouse and escorting her to my practices at the church. It had seemed to assuage some of her loneliness, some of her fear. Likely Chet wanted to know if I'd continue to care for his mother. Which, of course, I would. Even if he couldn't return my feelings for him, I could soften his one regret.

I cradled his hand between both of mine. “You don't have to worry about your mother while you're gone. I'll watch out for her.”

On Christ the solid rock I stand, all
other ground is sinking sand.

That Rock would hold me firm, even if everything else my heart desired washed away in the storm.