Filed to story: Love on the Sidelines (Natalie & Karl)
“Yes, I do.” Mother’s voice was calm. “I also know it’s not the boy’s fault. Would you visit the sins of the father on the son, Sister?” My aunt sniffed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Give him another year or two and he’ll end up just like his daddy.”
“And if he does, who will be to blame? We’ve known from the beginning that Frank Hayes wasn’t fit to raise a child, but we’ve all looked the other way. So who’s doing the right thing? Us by ignoring that boy, or Natalie by caring enough to try and reach him?
If he does show up tomorrow, I fully intend to invite him to this house whenever he wants to come.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Yes, I would. I’m not turning my head anymore. Maybe we can show that young man there’s more to life than what he’s learning from Frank.” Oh, sweet bliss. I shut my eyes as vindication rolled over me. Mama was on my side. She was going to help me save Karl. Together, how could we fail?
I paused with a guilty jump on the bottom step. Aunt Jane was standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over chest as she watched me. Lifting a finger to her lips, she tilted her head toward the bedroom.
NexttoMamaandtheJudge,AuntJanewasmyfavoritepersoninthewhole world. I often wondered where her looks came from. The rest of us all had dark hair and light eyes, but Aunt Jane’s hair was a warm honey color, her expressive eyes dark as night. Mama said she was the spitting image of her great-grandmother, but since there were no pictures of the lady, I had to take her word for it.
I had picked up snippets of conversations that led me to believe Aunt Jane had once been deeply in love, but, through circumstances over which she had no control, had lost the man of her dreams. This made her a tragic figure in my eyes, a Sleeping Beauty waiting for the awakening kiss of her prince.
As soon as we were out of earshot from the kitchen she put a hand on my shoulder.
“Natalie, you know it’s not polite to listen to other people’s conversations.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I hung my head.
She put her finger under my chin and tilted my head back up until I looked at her.
“Tell me, why this sudden interest in the Hayes boy?”
“I don’t know. I guess I feel sorry for him.”
“You’re sure that’s what it is?”
“Not just that. I like him. He’s not like his daddy,” I said with a touch of defiance.
A smile lifted her lips. “Good. Helping someone because you feel sorry for them is one thing, but doing it because you like them and care about what happens to them is better. That means you aren’t doing it for yourself.”
“Aunt Darla says her charity work with the children’s home makes her feel good.”
“I know, but that’s different, Natalie. The home is an institution. They depend on people’s charity to help them care for a lot of kids that wouldn’t have a place to live without them. Karl Hayes isn’t an institution. He’s a person. How do you think he’d feel if he thought you looked on him as a charity case?” I knew how I’d feel. Insulted, indignant, mad, hurt. “It’s not like that, Aunt Jane. I swear.”
She nodded. “I didn’t think so, but I wanted to make sure you knew the difference.
Be his friend, Sweetie, but don’t insult him by feeling sorry for him. No one wants pity.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
So I gained another ally in my mission to save Karl. And while I didn’t know it yet, the Judge would prove the greatest attraction of all for this lonely boy with the strong, steady heart.
Morganville has one city park, a well-manicured ten acres that sits on the side of a hill and offers a fine view of the town below. A few years ago the community built a restroom, a jogging track and added another, more modern playground. But the day my family met Karl, there were only numerous picnic tables, a few blackened iron grills on pipe stands, one swing set and a slide, all grouped under the shade of stately oaks, elms, and sweet gum trees.
Church, never my favorite way to spend a warm summer morning at the best of times, had been pure torture for me. I was anxious and fidgety, unable to muster even a pretense of interest as I sat on the wooden pew, squeezed between Mama and the Judge. Mama told me twice to be still, and the Judge kept offering me gum. I had to stop accepting after five pieces. My teeth were sticking together and I could barely open my mouth to chew.
When the last amen was said, I made a run for the bathroom, dodging through the parishioners like a steel bearing in a pinball machine, to skin out of my good dress and into my denim shorts and red top. By the time I got back outside, most of the women, including my mother and aunts, had left for the park and I knew they would be pushing tables together, setting the food out, and laying claim to each family’s eating area. Most of the men were gathered in knots outside the church, smoking, talking and laughing.
I located the Judge under a cloud of pipe smoke and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a break in the conversation. What if Karl and Lindsey showed up, then left because I wasn’t there? That thought was enough to have me tugging on the Judge’s hand, and a surge of relief filled me when he headed for the truck.
Our church socials could have done justice to a presidential gala as far as the food was concerned. Six tables were shoved together, their worn tops covered with an assortment of multicolored linen tablecloths. They groaned from the weight of bowls and dishes, huddling together without an inch to spare between them. Women bustled around the food, removing foil coverings and plastic lids, sneaking surreptitious looks at the offerings of others, secretly comparing it to their own.
As soon as the truck slowed to a stop, I bolted out the door, winding my way to Mother. She was laughing with Helena Morgan when I reached her. “Have you seen them?” I whispered urgently.
Leaning over, she put her lips near my ear. “Over by the woods. You make sure he stays, Natalie.”
“I will.” My gaze was already scanning the shaded area at the edge of the park. It took me a while to find him. His dark shirt and pants blended in with the shadows and he stood so still he seemed part of them. He was alone.
Reaching down deep for a dignity I was far from feeling, I forced myself to stroll casually in his direction. Even though I could only see his outline, I could feel him watching me.
“Hi.” I stopped in front of him and he straightened, looking down at me as if I were a mystery he had to solve. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m not staying. I only showed up to tell you not to wait. Lindsey doesn’t like to be around strangers.” His clothes were cleaner than normal, his shirt neatly ironed and no stains decorated the worn jeans. If he hadn’t wanted to stay, why go to the trouble?
That insight made me even more determined to keep him there.