Season of Miracles Page 12

  Bob’s answer was a growl that was easily interpreted. “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she can see what a nice kid he is, even if her father can’t.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you’re picking on him in class, Bob. I’ve heard it from more than one source. I can’t imagine a teacher doing that to a student, but obviously Amy doesn’t share your prejudices.”

  Bob ignored everything but her last comment. “I don’t want her hanging around with some hippie troublemaker.”

  Elise replied as calmly as she could. “He’s not a hippie, and he’s not a troublemaker. He’s a kid who’s having a confusing year and needs a friend. How can you object if Amy shows him the kindness you’ve taught her?”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “It’s one dance, Bob. They aren’t eloping.”

  But it was more than once dance. Seemingly oblivious to the angry stares of her father, Amy danced with Clay so many times that eventually most of the rest of the boys stopped asking her. She chose him whenever she could, and Clay, obviously reticent at first, began to ask her to dance whenever she was free.

  Clay was a marvelous dancer. The fact surprised Elise, but she supposed that dancing was one of the things he had picked up at Destiny just like he had picked up wonderful writing skills and a knowledge of poetry that was outstanding. His education might have been unbalanced, but he hadn’t spent his fifteen years doing nothing. And apparently he had spent some portion of them dancing.

  Someone dimmed the lights, and then the band chose a slow tune. Students who had begun the evening acting shy cuddled up to each other and swayed in time to the music. Elise hummed along; it was an old Beatles tune, a surprise in the midst of a set of songs with questionable lyrics and a driving beat John Henry could have laid a railroad track to. But this song was dreamy and much too familiar.

  “Yesterday,” she whispered, as she remembered the song’s title. The last time she had really listened to the song she had been locked in Sloane’s arms and they had been drifting dreamily around this same floor. Then, interested only in tomorrow, the song had been nothing but a lovely melody with words she could sing along with.

  Elise caught sight of Amy and Clay. Amy’s head came just to the bottom of Clay’s ear, and she was leaning against him, arms wrapped loosely around his neck as they moved around the room. They were a good-looking couple. Clay looked particularly handsome dressed in dark-brown slacks and a yellow oxford shirt with a dark tie; Amy’s pale-rose dress set off her lovely coloring. But nothing they wore compared with the smiles on their faces. They were happy to be together, obviously thinking about their tomorrows just as she and Clay’s father had done. Elise wanted to go to them, to tell them to step carefully, to cherish this time in their lives. Young love was so fragile; tomorrow was so fragile.

  Elise blinked back tears, ashamed of her own sentimentality. If she didn’t take care, she would find herself doing something stupid just to feel alive again.

  The band seemed to sense the mellow mood of the crowd and swung into another chorus of the song to give the boys a chance to pull their partners a little closer. Elise’s gaze followed Amy and Clay. They didn’t seem upset that they would have to dance a little longer. Someone else was clearly upset, however.

  As Elise watched, Bob strode on to the dance floor and clamped his hand on Amy’s shoulder. Even though she was across the darkened room, Elise could tell that Bob’s expression was angry. He said something to Amy and Clay, and Clay said something back to him. Amy’s hand flew to her mouth, and she turned and fled across the room and out the wide gym doors.

  Clay started to follow, but another sophomore boy who had been dancing nearby and had obviously heard the whole thing grabbed his arm to detain him. Bob said something else to Clay and then melted into the crowd of spectators on the sidelines.

  Elise knew where her duty lay. She wanted to confront Bob and find out what he had said to cause such a commotion; she wanted to question Clay, who was now the center of attention. Most of all, she wanted to comfort Amy who was somewhere outside in the gray drizzle. She turned and followed Amy’s path, calling her name.

  “Amy?”

  Amy was nowhere in sight. Had she decided to walk home? It was unlikely, since her house was a good three miles away. Elise tried to imagine what she would do under the same circumstances. Where could you go to sit and be alone at Miracle Springs High? Elise tried the parking lot, peering into Bob’s car, and when that didn’t bear fruit, she walked to the portico behind the school where students waited for buses. There, on one of the stone benches, she found Amy in a forlorn huddle.

  Without a word, Elise sat down and put her arms around her. Amy sighed, wiping tears off her cheeks. She leaned her head against Elise’s shoulder.

  Elise brushed Amy’s curls back from her forehead. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Amy sniffed. “My father behaved like an ass.”

  Elise let the lapse in vocabulary pass unnoticed. “I saw him stop you and Clay while you were dancing.”

  “He’s been glaring at me all evening, but I never thought he’d do something so dumb.”

  “Did he tell you to stop dancing with Clay?”

  “Worse! He pulled us apart and told Clay to get his hands off me, that I wasn’t some kind of floozy for him to maul.”

  Unfortunately Elise could imagine Bob saying just that, outdated slang and all. What was the right thing to do now—explain Bob’s feelings? Should she attempt to patch up this quarrel between father and daughter to the best of her ability? Or should she simply tell the truth, that she too thought Bob had behaved like an ass?

  Elise finally compromised. “Your dad was wrong to say anything to you, but he did it because he was worried.”

  “He wasn’t worried!” Amy sat up straight and glared at Elise. “He was furious! He doesn’t want his little girl to have a life of her own, especially one that includes Clay Tyson. He hates Clay. I don’t know why; I wish I did.”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Elise said softly.

  “What’s your fault?”

  “My fault he hates Clay.”

  “Why?” Despite herself, Amy’s voice lost some of its angry edge.

  “It’s a long story, but it involves Clay’s father. In a strange way, I think your father is jealous of something that happened years ago. Clay looks like his father and so he’s a constant reminder to your dad of the past.”

  “He calls him that ‘hippie kid.’ I don’t even know what he really means by that, but if it’s true, I like hippies!”

  Elise smiled. “I didn’t know you and Clay were such good friends. Didn’t that happen kind of suddenly?”

  “I don’t know.” Amy dug her teeth into her lower lip. “I guess,” she admitted finally. “At first I thought he was really strange. He’s not like anybody else I’ve ever met. But after I got used to him, I decided I liked him. We’ve been eating lunch together, and I’ve been tutoring him. Last Saturday I met him at the springs, and we went swimming with some other people.”

  “So he is your boyfriend?”

  “No. Nothing like that. We’re just friends,” Amy protested.

  Now Elise understood why Clay had been looking happier. He no longer seemed to be as haunted or detached. He still didn’t take part in the horseplay going on around him at school, but he no longer seemed to be so completely alone either. Once or twice Elise had seem him exchange words with other students, and once, after she’d read one of his poems aloud in English class, she’d seen two or three other kids stop to praise him before they left for their next period. Amy’s acceptance of Clay had made him more acceptable to the others.

  Faced with Bob’s bullheadedness, Elise tried to decide what to do. She didn’t want to make the situation any worse, but neither did she want to keep Amy from facing the truth. Silently she damned Bob Cargil for causing this trouble. Then she spoke. “Your father isn’t
ever going to approve of Clay, Amy. Not even if you remain ‘just friends.’“

  “I don’t care! Clay’s my friend. I’m going to keep seeing him whether Dad approves or not.”

  “That could be pretty tough,” Elise cautioned. “On both you and Clay.”

  “If he keeps bothering Clay, I’ll go to Mr. Greeley myself,” Amy vowed. “I’ll tell him my own father is picking on a student!”

  They both knew she wouldn’t, but Elise was still pleased by Amy’s spunk. Amy would never fall victim to her father the way Elise had fallen victim to her mother. When the time came for Amy to make the break from Bob, she would.

  “Well, before it gets to that point,” Elise said, “let me talk to your dad. I’ll try and straighten him out for you.”

  “Could you?”

  “I can try.”

  Amy put her arms around Elise’s neck and gave her a hug. “Thanks.”

  “Now, let’s get back inside. I’ll say something gentle to your father like,” she cleared her throat and made her tone menacing, “Bob, if you cause another scene Amy and I together will pull every remaining hair out of your head.” Elise smiled at Amy’s giggle. “And in the meantime, until I can really talk to him, no more slow dances with Clay unless you stand a good foot apart. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Amy said with a sigh. “I just wish my dad didn’t teach here. I wish he laid bricks, or worked on the Banner, or raised racehorses.”

  “We’ll do what we can to make it easier.”

  After another quick hug they both rose to their feet and began their walk back to the gym.

  Inside, Elise skirted the edge of the floor until she was standing beside Bob. She watched as Amy defiantly sought out Clay to ask him to dance with her. Elise could feel Bob stiffen next to her. She didn’t even look at him. “Bob,” she said under her breath, “if you so much as move one foot in Amy’s direction I’ll follow you and make a scene like none this school has ever known.”

  “Stay out of this, Elise.”

  “Not on your life. I’m the closest thing to a mother that girl has ever had, and as such, I’m telling you that if you keep this up, you’re going to lose her for sure. She likes Clay; he’s not doing anything he shouldn’t; and the more you make of it the more they’ll make of it.” She faced him. “You’re picking on Clay because once, a long time ago, his father and I were lovers.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “It’s the truth.” Elise turned back to the dance floor. “Sloane may be back in town, but he has nothing to do with you and me. And Clay has nothing to do with you and me. Don’t make him a scapegoat.”

  Bob was silent, and Elise imagined she could feel the tension emanating from his body. But the evening passed without another confrontation, even when Clay and Amy danced the last slow dance together.

  Finally the night ended and kids streamed out to the parking lot to find their cars or wait for their parents. Amy and Clay stood by the door saying goodbye, and Elise demanded that Bob help her thank the chaperoning parents until she saw that Clay had gone.

  With obvious reluctance, Amy joined them. “I’m ready to go,” she told Elise, refusing to acknowledge her father.

  To his credit, Bob looked a little sheepish. Faced with Amy’s withdrawal, he seemed to reconsider what he’d done. “Let’s go out for ice cream,” he said with false joviality.

  “No thank, you,” Amy answered coldly. “I want to go home.”

  “Elise, how about you? Wouldn’t you like some ice cream?”

  Elise was tired. The emotional scene with Amy had taken its toll. She felt unstrung. She could not face being the buffer between father and daughter anymore that night. They would have to be left alone eventually; it might as well be now. “No. In fact, I think I’m going to walk home. You two go on without me.”

  “But it’s raining,” Bob objected.

  Suddenly Elise didn’t care about anything except getting away from everyone who made demands on her. “I like the rain.”

  “Your dress…”

  “Is cotton and will wash nicely,” Elise finished for him. “Thanks for the ride over.” She bent and kissed Amy’s cheek. “I’ll see you on Monday,” she told her. “Have a good weekend.” Without another word to either of them she headed for the gym doors.

  Sloane waited while Clay slid into the front seat of the car and slammed his door. Then he pulled out into the steady stream of cars heading down Hope Avenue. “How was the dance?”

  “All right.”

  Sloane searched for a way to prolong the conversation. “Got your eye on anyone in particular?”

  “No.”

  Sloane wondered if Clay had danced at all. It had surprised him that the boy had wanted to go. He had showed no interest in any other aspect of high school social life. Other than his tutoring sessions, he seemed to have no contact with any of the teenagers in town. According to Aunt Lillian, however, Clay’s relationship with Amy Cargil was progressing nicely enough to make up for whatever other friends he lacked. Perhaps Amy was the reason that Clay had attended tonight’s dance, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

  “Look! There’s Miss Ramsey.” Clay pointed ahead of them. Sloane realized his son was correct. Elise, with neither umbrella nor raincoat, was hiking ahead of them through the light rain.

  “What on earth is she doing out in this?” Sloane passed Elise, then slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road just ahead of her. He opened his door and stood beside the car. “Elise, hop in. You’re getting soaked.”

  “I want to get soaked,” she said, without so much as a glance in his direction.

  Sloane caught up with her, getting splashed by a passing car as he did. “This is crazy.” He caught her arm. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right.” Elise pulled her arm from his grasping fingers. “I’m not all right at all.” She faced him, raindrops beaded on her forehead and in her eyelashes like tiny diamonds. “I’m going to do what I want for once. I’m going to walk home even if the heavens open and drop hail as big as golf balls on my head. Then I’m going inside and drink myself witless. And then, if I haven’t had too much to put me out for the night, I’m going to lie awake until dawn and fantasize about what my life would be like now if I’d left this god-awful place years ago when I should have!” Without another word she turned and continued down Hope Avenue.

  Sloane watched her go, torn between picking her up and putting her in his car and following her to try and talk some sense into her. In the end he did neither. He walked back to the car and slid under the steering wheel.

  “She doesn’t want a ride?” Clay asked, a worried expression on his face.

  “I think she needs to be alone, son,” Sloane said. “Something’s upset her.”

  Clay wondered if Sloane realized he’d just called him son. The word had sounded so strange, almost like an endearment. An endearment from Sloane? It was just one more puzzling thing in a puzzling night. He sat back as Sloane started the car and pulled carefully back on to the avenue.

  Elise took her time getting home. The heavens did open, although sheets of silver rain deluged her, not hail. She hadn’t walked in the rain for more years than she could remember.

  Her father had been the one to introduce her to the pleasures of splashing in puddles. He had been a true outdoorsman, happy in any kind of weather, as much—and Elise had known it even then—to get away from his nagging wife as for any other reason. He had taken Elise with him whenever he could, although he’d never had the energy to stand up to Jeanette Ramsey when she refused to let Elise go. But Elise had treasured their times together. She had loved her father, even with his weaknesses, and she had been devastated when he’d been killed right before her high school graduation.

  The accident had been senseless. Her father had been fishing; someone else had been poaching alligators and her father had gotten in the way. The poacher had never been found. It had just been one of those freak things that happened. One s
tray bullet—one life had ended and others had changed. Her own life had never been set right again.

  Sloane had understood her sorrow, but he had not understood her need to help her mother by staying in Miracle Springs for the summer. Perhaps he had seen the truth more clearly than she. Perhaps he had realized that she was going to end up with all the life sucked out of her and her dreams buried too deeply to retrieve. Perhaps it was fear of watching her slow disintegration that had made him jettison his birthplace the moment he was free to go.

  At home, Elise climbed to the front porch and shook herself like a Labrador retriever. Drops of water flew and the wet skirt of her dress clung to her knees. She slipped out of her shoes and flung the door open, leaving it that way as she walked through the house. She wanted to hear the rain.

  In the kitchen, she opened the back door too, oblivious to the threat of mosquitoes and flies. As she warmed milk she stood staring at the backyard. Her fingers found the pins that were holding up her hair, and she pulled them out, tossing them on a counter. The wet length blanketed her back as she turned to the stove and tested the milk. She poured it in a cup, added a dollop of honey and a double shot of Jack Daniels.

  Without changing into dry clothes she found her way to the front porch glider and rocked, listening to the rain, as she sipped.

  The night and her walk home had done one thing. They had shaken her out of her depression. Depression was an absence of feeling, a blue-gray haze that dulled life’s glory. No, she was no longer depressed. She was sad. She was angry. She was bone-deep lonely. She was so many things and they were all tied up inside her trying to fight their way loose. Elise wasn’t sure which was worse, depression or this. She took another sip of the toddy and closed her eyes.

  She had no idea how long she’d been sitting that way before she heard footsteps on the porch and the sound of a man’s voice in front of her.

  “You didn’t even change your clothes.”

  Without opening her eyes, she knew who was there. “Go away, Sloane. Even I’m entitled to be miserable once in a while.” Elise felt his warmth beside her and the heaviness of the glider with two bodies on it. She ignored him, taking another long swallow of the toddy.