The Clay Lion (16 page)

Charlie pulled his lips to mine once more. 
“You are one special girl Brooke Wallace,” he beamed.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” I said.

Alone in the kitchen, I listened to the sounds of
Branson and Charlie cheering on our team in the adjacent room.  I sat down
at the table and closed my eyes, reflecting on the grace I had been shown over
the course of the last year.  Traveling to change the past, a past that
God may or may not have had a hand in, gave me pause with regard to the
condition of my soul.  I had convinced myself initially that, if it was
God’s will that I should succeed, then so be it.  Now it appeared that I
had not only succeeded, but He had seen fit to bring Charlie into my life as
well.  And so alone, at the kitchen table, I gave thanks for the first
time since my journeys began.  And I wept.

I heard footsteps approaching.  First, the
soft padded sound of the family room carpet, then the tapping of the kitchen
tile.  I lifted my head from my hands and tried discreetly to wipe the
tears from my eyes.  Branson was staring at me, holding his empty glass in
his hand, apparently looking to refill his tea.  It was obvious from his expression
that he had not expected to find his sister quietly weeping at the table.

Without a word, he sat beside me.  He waited
patiently for an explanation.  Finally, he asked, “Did something happen?”

I smiled at him, my sweet, naïve brother. 
The brother for whom I had risked everything.
  For whom
I would lay down my own life.  Had something happened? 
Only a miracle dear brother.

“I’m fine.  Happy tears, I promise. 
Just feeling lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.”

“Like Charlie,” he teased.

“Like you,” I replied.

“Well, you better get back in there with the
‘wonderful people’ before they think you’re in here hording all the dessert for
yourself!”

The football game ended in a victory for our
team, for which there was much whooping and hollering from the boys. 
Dessert, a chocolate éclair cake that I made myself, was a smash hit. 
Both Branson and Charlie helped themselves to thirds.  The sun had long
since signaled the end of the day when Charlie finally announced that he should
probably be heading home, as he still had homework to finish before returning
to school in the morning.  My parents graciously welcomed Charlie back to
our home whenever he was able, and Charlie offered to let Branson borrow some
of his European history novels that they had been discussing.  I carried
the plate of food we prepared earlier in the day as Charlie and I walked out
into the starry night together.

“Your family is great,” Charlie observed on the
way to his car.

“They are,” I agreed.  “When will I meet
your family?”

“Wednesday is preliminaries and Thursday is
finals for the championship.  I have to ride the bus with the team from
school to the pool both days, but I can send my mom to pick you up and then we
can bring you home too.  You can get to know her then.”

“Does your mom have enough room in her car for
all of us, especially if Branson comes too?”

“Sure.  She drives an SUV.  I know
she’s excited to meet you.  So are you okay with that?”

I paused for a moment.  The thought of
spending time alone with Charlie’s mother without him around made me
nervous.  But I was brave.  Charlie had said so.

“Yeah.
 
That sounds great.”

“I have practice late tomorrow and Tuesday, so I
won’t have time to see you at all…”

“That’s okay,” I interrupted.

“But can I call you?” he finished.

“Yes,” I replied.

“So then, I’ll call you tomorrow and see you
Wednesday.  That’s a long time, isn’t it?” Charlie asked, smiling and
pulling me close, so close that our bodies were touching.

“You’ve survived eighteen years without me. 
I think you can last three days,” I teased, returning his embrace.

“I didn’t know you the first eighteen
years.  Now that I know…” his voice trailed off and he leaned down to
press his lips against my forehead. 
Then my cheek.
 
Finally my lips.
  I returned his kiss forcefully
and pressed against him, feeling the warmth and strength of his muscles beside
mine.  A shiver ran through my body, but the cold air was not to blame.

“Bye,” he said finally.

“Bye,” I said.

I watched as he slid into the driver’s side, buckled
his seatbelt and started the car.  He began backing up the drive, pausing
halfway to wave and
throw
a sideways grin in my
direction.  The darkness of the night enveloped him within seconds, and he
was gone.  I stood there, in the driveway, in the cold, in the dark for
several minutes, attempting to recapture the feeling of our closeness. 
The creaking of the front door hinges alerted me to the presence of someone
else joining me in the quiet stillness of the evening.

“Brooke?” my mother called.

 “Coming,” I answered, quickly heading in
her direction.  She waited for me on the porch and wrapped her arm around
my shoulders as we made our way through the door into the warmth of the house.

“That was a big deal,” she said as she took my
coat to hang beside her own in the hall closet.

“What was a big deal?”

“Charlie.  Coming here to spend the day with
a family he doesn’t know to impress a girl he’s just met.  Not many
teenage boys would do that.”

“Branson will,” I declared immediately, thinking of
Jill Overstreet and how I had seen the two of them together more and more
frequently in the hallways at school.

“I hope you’re right.  I hope he will be the
type of boy who wears his heart on his sleeve for a girl who will be worthy of
him.”

“He will be,” I said, yawning, suddenly overcome
by exhaustion as the adrenaline that had been fueling my body for the last two
days seemed to drain away.

“
You heading
to bed?”
Mother asked.

“Yeah, but I’ll say goodnight to the boys first.”

I found my brother and father lounging in the
family room, engrossed in the night game on the television.

“Thank you,” I said from the threshold.

Both looked up from the game to acknowledge my
presence.  “For what?” my father asked.

“For being amazing.  And for not
embarrassing me,” I said, looking directly at my father who was smirking
openly.

“Who?
 
Me?” my father joked.

“He’s cool,” declared Branson.  “I like
him.”

“So glad you approve,” I laughed, rolling my eyes
at him.  “I live to serve.  I’m going to bed.  Goodnight and
love you.”

I floated up the stairs, feeling lighter than
air, content and fulfilled.  For the first time in many months, I was
ready to begin the rest of my life.  In fact, I couldn’t wait.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

The joke was on me as I was forced to eat the
words I had spoken to Charlie about waiting until Wednesday to see one another
again.  I was a disaster.  I spent Monday and Tuesday walking around
as if my brain was in no way connected to the rest of my body.  I drove
straight past school on Monday morning, missed my third period English class
because I went to study hall instead, tried to buy lunch before realizing I
left my purse at home, and completely forgot that I promised to take Branson to
the hardware store for work after school on Tuesday afternoon.  He waited
outside the front office for forty-five minutes before I realized my
mistake.  The worst part was that he could not even call to remind me to
get him as I left my cell phone charging on my dresser.

By the time Wednesday afternoon arrived, I was a
bundle of nerves.  Between seeing Charlie again and meeting his mother for
the first time, I had barely eaten all day.  Branson was happy to join me
because, as he put it, somebody had to make sure I remembered to keep
breathing.  Never had the six miles home from school seemed so long. 
Branson found me pacing in the kitchen when he appeared for his requisite
afternoon snack.

“This is fun,” he commented, as he rummaged
through the pantry shelves.

“Hmmm,” I replied absentmindedly, gazing out the
window. “Watching you go gaga over a boy.  It’s like watching an after
school special.  I’m just wondering what big life lesson I’m supposed to
learn once
it’s all
done,” he teased.  “You know…
don’t do drugs, don’t be a bully, don’t forget to engage your brain.”

“You’re hilarious,” I told him.

“You’re in love,” he declared.

“No I’m not!” I asserted.  But as the words
came out, I knew I was lying.  Ridiculous as it was, in just a few days, I
was falling in love with Charlie Johnson.  I looked at Branson who was
smirking at me, half a peanut butter sandwich dangling from his mouth.  I
returned his smile.

“Jerk,” I said.

Several minutes later, Mrs. Johnson
arrived.  Branson and I piled into the back of the SUV with Melody and
were warmly welcomed.  Mrs. Johnson asked Branson and me a multitude of
questions about our lives, our parents, school, and sports.  She chatted
nervously about Charlie’s swimming, clearly anxious for him to do well. 
She seemed refreshingly normal and I realized that she was obviously the parent
responsible for keeping Charlie firmly grounded in reality.  I got the
impression that his father was considerably harder to please.

We made our way through a mob of spectators as we
arrived at the pool.  It was the largest pool I had ever seen, full
Olympic length, and the deck bleachers seemed to go on for miles.  There
were over a dozen teams competing and the sheer volume of participants was
overwhelming.  I wondered how we would ever find Charlie in the sea of
humanity.  Luckily, Mrs. Johnson was familiar with the seating process and
easily maneuvered us to the section assigned to Hawk’s Ridge spectators. 
It was already packed. 

As we took our seats, I scanned the pool deck for
Charlie.  Everyone was in similar suits, which made it extremely difficult
to pick him out of the crowd.  As I strained to catch a glimpse of him, I
was surprised to feel a pair of arms wrapping around my shoulders.

“Hi you,” Charlie whispered in my ear.

I turned to see him, bare chested, crouching on
the bleachers behind me.  He was almost God-like, like a Roman sculpture
formed from the clay of a Renaissance master.  His muscles were chiseled
and strong but not bulky.  There was the smallest patch of hair emerging
from the center of his chest, and his shoulders were round and firm.  I
felt self-conscious about his partial state of undress, especially in front of
his mother.  I averted my eyes almost immediately.  Charlie, on the
other hand, seemed completely unaffected by his lack of attire.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he added.  With
that, he moved around in front of me to where his mother and sister were
sitting and caught them in a similar embrace.  The noise of the swimming
complex made it impossible for me to make out their conversation, but it was
evident through their body language as I watched Charlie speaking to his
mother, that there was mutual love and respect between them.  Finally, he
turned to welcome Branson.

“Hey Buddy!” he called.  “Thanks for
coming.”

Branson smiled.  “This will be fun!” he said
back.  I alone knew he was not referring to the swimming.

Charlie climbed back up the bleachers so that he
could sit beside me to explain how the meet would progress.  I made every
attempt to follow along with what he was saying, but with his close proximity,
I was forced to dedicate most of my energy into remembering to breathe. 

It seemed that, for a majority of the evening,
Charlie would be restricted to the pool deck with his team.  However, he
promised that he would try to visit us if time allowed.  Unable to form a
coherent thought, I thanked God silently that I would not be in a position to
have to make a lot of conversation with him in his current state.  I could
not believe I had been so completely unprepared.  Surely I had not thought
he would be swimming in a parka.  I admonished myself for being so stupid.

As I watched Charlie carefully maneuvering his
way back down the bleachers to the deck, I let out a huge sigh of relief. 
Branson, who had been surreptitiously watching my every move, could no longer
contain himself, erupting into a fit of hysterics.

“
That
was worth the price of admission,
Sis,” he declared when he was finally able to speak.  I responded by
punching him in the arm.

“Stupid bathing suits,” I said finally, sending
Branson into yet another spasm of laughter.  “It’s not funny,” I
continued, suddenly unable to contain my own giggles.

“Yeah.
 
Imagine that. 
Bathing suits at a pool.
 
Never saw that coming,” Branson continued to tease.