Capture the Wind for Me (11 page)

“Well, don't be. Just think about it, Alison, you've got Jacob for good. Greg's only here a week, and all I get to do is meet him anyway.” My anticipation drained away as we reached Clarissa. Why hadn't I realized that before? A few special moments with a guy whose picture now hung on my wall, and then it would be back to reality. How awful that would be.

For a moment, I almost wished Greg wouldn't even come.

Telling Daddy about Greg's arrival proved another matter entirely. Katherine had left that part up to me. “You know him better than I do,” she'd said Friday afternoon on the phone. Then asked almost anxiously, “You don't think he'll mind, do you?”

“No, he won't mind.” I opened the pantry and pulled out Winnie's large bag of dry dog food. “Just a few weeks ago he was tellin' me he wanted to see me start goin' out, for heaven's sake. And this is just meetin' somebody.”

“But Greg's a singer. A new star. And this is Bradleyville.”

I heard an underlying judgment in her tone. Fine time for her to be second-guessing. “It'll be fine, Katherine.”

Leave it to a parent to be full of surprises.

After supper, with Robert and Clarissa doing the dishes, I sidled up to Daddy as he sat at the computer.

“Whatcha doin'?” I pulled a footrest from the couch over next to him and sat down.

“Oh, just lookin' at some stuff on the Internet.” He tapped the “enter” key. “You need somethin'?”

I crossed my ankles and wiggled them, suddenly self-conscious. “Not really.”

He nodded, eyes still fixed on the screen. I sat silently. After a moment, he turned to look at me. “What is it, Jackie?”

I shrugged with slow animation.

“Okay.” He pushed back from the computer and twisted in his chair to face me. From the kitchen came the rattle of dishes. “I'm listenin'.”

I bit the inside of my mouth, suddenly worried. All my visions of meeting Greg, the hours I'd lain awake the last two nights thinking about him, jumbled in my head. What if Daddy said no? I mean, I knew he wouldn't, but what if he did?

“Katherine and I have something to tell you.” Such wiles I had not known I possessed.

“Katherine
and you?” Pleasant surprise marched across his face. “Let's hear it.”

I took a deep breath and told him the bare-bones details of Greg's visit. Then sat practically trembling as I awaited his reaction.

“Whoa.” Daddy pondered the news. “A singer, huh. One of those guys in your magazines?”

“Yeah. Can you believe it?”

He shook his head. “Amazing. How did Katherine find this out?”

“Greg's sort of almost related to her.”

“To the Kings? How?”

“He's somebody's half brother. I forget the name. But it must be somebody you went to school with. The guy married Mama's old best friend, Celia, and they live in Greece.”

Daddy's smile went limp. He sat very still, staring at me.

I felt my insides grow cold. I wanted to ask what was the matter but couldn't find my tongue. I waited until I could wait no more. “Daddy?” “The guy's name is Danny Cander,” he said, his tone flat.

“Yeah, that's right,” I whispered.

“Danny Cander's brother.” Daddy spoke the words to himself with disbelief. Abruptly, he swiveled back to the computer. “I don't want you seein' this boy.” He jabbed at the keyboard.

“Why?”

“Because I just don't.”

I'd never seen Daddy that way. Terse and irritated and . . . totally unreasonable. “But all I want to do is meet him!”

“I don't want you meetin' him, Jackie. He can't be good for you.”

“What do you mean, ‘good for me'? It's not like I want to marry him or anything. I just want to talk to him, see what he's like.”

“I can tell you what he's like.” Daddy kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Is he nice-lookin'?”

Hot
would be the operative word. “Yeah.”

“Don't you think he'll have all kinds of charisma? After all, he's a performer, isn't he?”

“So?”

“So how long is he here?”

I swallowed. “A week.”

“So what if you—” Daddy cut off his rising voice. He turned to me. “What if you like him?” he pressed. “What if you meet him, and you really like him. And you see him the next day, and the next. And then after a week—he leaves. How hurt will you be then?”

My mouth dropped open. Such a simple thing, meeting a guy. I went to school with guys every day. Why was this one suddenly so threatening? “I really don't think that will happen,” I said evenly. “But, Daddy, this means so much to me. Imagine if someone famous you wanted to meet came to town, and you couldn't even go say hello. Wouldn't you think, like, what a chance I missed?”

“Jackie.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “It's a chance that can't possibly get you anywhere. Either it'll disappoint you from the start, or it'll disappoint you when he leaves. Whichever way, I don't want to see that happen to you.”

I focused on the floor, pulling my upper lip between my teeth. I felt too stunned to argue any further, and Daddy said no more. But I knew he watched me.

“Why can't you just find a boyfriend in Bradleyville?” he finally asked.

“Daddy, I'm not talking about ‘finding a boyfriend.' I just want to
meet
him.”

“But you never know where meeting him might lead.”

This was insane; what did he think, I planned to elope with the guy? Tears bit my eyes. I pushed myself up to stalk away. “I'm not you, Daddy!” I retorted. “I don't meet someone and instantly fall at their feet.”

“Hey!” He stood and caught my arm. His finger raised, pointing at me. “I will not have you talk to me that way.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Sorry.” The word shook.

He held on to me. A dish clattered in the kitchen. “Jackie . . .” Air escaped his throat. His fingers loosened and fell away from my arm.

I thought my rigid jaw would break. “I want to go to my room now, if you don't mind.”

He waved a hand, letting me go. Stone-faced, I strode down the hall. Greg's photo smiled its charm from my wall as I locked the door and sank with bitter disappointment upon my bed.

chapter 13

D
addy and I spoke no more that night. Never had we treated each other that way. The next morning we silently made our own pieces of toast, pulling boxes of cereal from the pantry with chilled indifference. “Want some orange juice?” I asked Clarissa when she wandered in, wiping sleep from her eyes. Her nightgown ended below her knees, exposing skinny legs and tiny bare feet.

“Uh-huh.” She sidled over to Daddy and hugged him with one arm. “Mornin'.”

“Hi, Punkin.” He smiled at her almost sadly.

She peered at him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothin'.”

What
was
wrong with him? I'd gone over and over our conversation, trying to figure it out. I poured orange juice into a small glass and set it on the table for Clarissa. Only one thing to do, I figured—tell Katherine. Somehow she'd fix this. She knew how much I wanted to meet Greg.

“Robert!” Daddy called. “Better come eat. We have to leave for your big game in an hour.”

“Katherine's goin' to be there,” I told Clarissa, watching Daddy.

“Yay!” She plopped into her chair, suddenly awake.

I wanted to call Katherine after breakfast, but Daddy sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. The only other phone lay in his bedroom.
Drat
. I went into my bedroom to get dressed. And stare at Greg's picture. I knew every inch of that face by now. The warm eyes, the blunt cut of his jaw. Just looking at him sent longing through my veins. No way he'd be in this town without my meeting him.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, Daddy had disappeared. Stepping out on our back deck, I dialed the Kings' number. Winnie bounded over and panted up at me, begging for a pat. I scratched behind her ears.

Katherine did not sound happy at the news. “Oh, what have I done?” she moaned. “I didn't mean to cause problems.”

“You didn't cause the problem; Daddy did. Can you talk to him while we're at the game? Please?”

She hesitated. “That may not be the best time.”

“Just try. He's not gonna be himself anyway; you'll see that something's wrong.” I paced to the edge of the deck and turned around. “Katherine?”

“He may have a point, you know.”

Oh, no, not her too. I raked a hand through my hair, glaring at our rooftop.

“I mean, after Greg leaves and all the excitement dies down, Bradleyville could seem pretty boring.”

“It's pretty boring now,” I retorted. I swung toward our back fence, blowing out air. I did not want to argue with her. “Look, I don't know what the big deal is. Besides, I don't think it's Greg at all. Daddy didn't get all weird till I mentioned his brother. So would you just . . . help me out here?”

Katherine sucked in a breath, as if she'd realized something momentous.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She fell silent for a moment, then sighed. “I'll try to help.” She sounded reluctant. “But . . . I'm still not sure we can talk about it at the game.”

“Why don't you two go out tonight, then? Isn't it about time y'all had some time alone?”

“Well, now, Miss Jackie,” Katherine commented wryly, “that's quite a change of opinion.”

I winced at my lack of subtlety. “I'll get Daddy to ask you at the game. I'll offer to watch the kids.” Really. Had I no shame?

She laughed. “I see. You help me, and I help you, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“Fact is, I do need to talk to him, and we've not had much chance.”

“See? So go for it.”

And there you have it. How easily we slipped into our new roles. With one phone call, Katherine May King moved from tentative friend to cohort.

Oh, the power of rationalization. The more we need it, the mightier it proves to be.

As we drove to the school ball field, windows down and a warm breeze blowing hair into my face, I told myself that my intentions were more for Daddy's sake than mine. Hadn't he wanted me to accept Katherine? Well, now he had what he wanted. He'd been right about her; I'd been wrong. How mature I was to admit it.

We piled out of the car, Robert loping to join his team in warm-up practice. The sun beat down on our heads as Daddy and I settled on the third row of the bleachers. Soon every seat would be filled. Robert's team had a great record for the season, and today's winning team would advance to the playoffs for the best school teams in the region.

Daddy and I still hadn't spoken. He'd fallen into one of his brooding moods—thanks to me, no doubt. Well, hoo-fah. At the moment, I didn't feel all that great about him either.

“I don't wanna sit down till the game starts,” Clarissa complained. “The seats are too hard.”

“Okay,” I said. “Just stay out of the way of the players.”

My sister skipped away.

Other families greeted us as they found their seats. Grandpa and Grandma Delham took seats beside Daddy, Grandpa's eyes twinkling as always. Grandma smelled like coconut sunscreen. She forever watched her weight, which looked fine to me, and protected her skin from the sun. “Where's my Robert?” She shaded her eyes, turning to look out over the field.

“Way back there, catchin' balls.” Daddy pointed with his chin.

“Did he get a good sleep?” Grandpa stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. “A boy needs his sleep before the big game.”

I managed a smile. “Yes, Grandpa, he got his sleep.”

“How 'bout breakfast, he have that too?”

“Oh, Ed, for heaven's sake.” Grandma waved a hand at him. “You sound like an ol' hen.”

“Don't call me a hen, woman, you know what a fine rooster I am.” He poked her playfully in the ribs.

“Now, now,” Mr. Clangerlee commented as he moved his large frame past us up the bleachers, “we'll have none of that kind of talk in front of the children.” He grinned at Grandpa.

“Can you spread out a bit?” Daddy asked his parents. “We need to save a place for Clarissa and Katherine.”

Grandma's face lit up. “Katherine's comin'?”

“Said she would.” Daddy tried to sound nonchalant, but I knew how much he wanted Katherine beside him.

Before long Grandpa Westerdahl showed up alone.

“Betty not with you?” Grandpa Delham asked.

“She's feelin' a bit under the weather today. Decided to stay home.”

His gaze wandered to the empty spot beside Daddy and hung there. I watched the knowledge of who the seat was for move across his face. My heart went out to him. I knew he and Grandma Westerdahl loved us and wanted the best for our family. They would never stand in the way of Daddy's finding someone else. But surely every time they saw him with Katherine, they reeled with the pain of remembering when their daughter had stood beside him.

Grandpa Westerdahl raised his eyes to Daddy's. He nodded slowly, working his mouth.

“Lou,” Mr. Tull spoke from the row in front of us, “set yourself down here, there's plenty of room.”

“I thank ya kindly.” Grandpa took a seat beside him.

Practice heated up. The
smack
of balls meeting leather and shouts from the coaches and players rang through the air. Daddy hunched forward to watch every move Robert made, arms on his knees. I knew I should talk to him before Katherine showed up, but my irritation with him stayed my tongue.

My nostrils filled with the smell of warmed dirt and faint honeysuckle, thanks to the vines trailing a patch of fence at the corner of the lot. That ten feet or so of fence has been there as long as I can remember, linking with nothing, serving only to hail the edge of the softball field. I gazed with distraction at the honeysuckle, and the strangest thing happened. A wondrous anticipation crept over me until I fairly tingled. Even remembering it now, I can almost feel it again. Something was going to happen to me. I just
knew
it. Something new in the air as heady and wild and enticing as that wafting honeysuckle scent. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation for as long as it would last, my entire being filling with a longing I couldn't even name.