Chapter 4
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Iwo weeks following the homeing dance, my life pretty much returo normal. My father was ba Washington, D.C., which made things a lot more fun around my house, primarily because I could sneak out the window again ao the graveyard for my late night forays. I dont know what it was about the gravey<bdi></bdi>ard that attracted us so. Maybe it had something to do with the tombstohemselves, because as far as tombstones went, they were actually fairly fortable to sit on.We usually sat in a small plot where the Preston family had been buried about a hundred years ago. There were eight tombstohere, all arranged in a circle, making it easy to pass the boiled peanuts bad forth between us. Oime my friends and I decided to learn what we could about the Preston family, and we went to the library to find out if anything had been written about them. I mean, if yoing to sit on someoombstone, you might as well know something about them, right?
It turns out that there wasnt much about the family in the historical records, though we did find out oeresting tidbit of information. Henry Preston, the father, was a one-armed lumberjack, believe it or not. Supposedly he could cut down a tree as fast as any two-armed man. Now the vision of a one-armed lumberjack is pretty vivid right off the bat, so we talked about him a lot. We used to wonder what else he could do with only one arm, and wed spend long hours discussing how fast he could pitch a baseball or whether or not hed be able to swim across the Intracoastal Waterway. Our versatio exactly highbrow, I admit, but I ehem heless.
Well, Erid me were out there ourday night with a couple of other friends, eating boiled peanuts and talking about Henry Preston, when Eric asked me how my "date" went with Jamie Sullivan. He and I hadnt seen much of each other sihe homeing dance because the football season was already in the playoffs and Eric had been out of town the past few weekends with the team.
"It was okay," I said, shrugging, doing my best to play it cool.
Eric playfully elbowed me in the ribs, and I grunted. He outweighed me by at least thirty pounds.
"Did you kiss her good-night?"
"No."
He took a long drink from his of Budweiser as I answered. I dont know how he did it, but Eriever had trouble buying beer, which was strange, being that everyone in town knew how old he was.
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tossing me a sidelong glance.
"I would have thought that after she helped you the bathroom, you would have at least kissed her good night."
"Well, I didnt."
"Did you even try?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Shes not that kind of girl," I said, and even though we all k was true, it still sounded like I was defending her.
Eric latched on to that like a leech.
"I think you like her," he said.
"Youre full of crap," I answered, and he slapped my back, hard enough to force the breath right out of me. Hanging out with Eric usually meant that Id have a few bruises the following day.
"Yeah, I might be full of crap," he said, winking at me, "but youre the one whos smitten with Jamie Sullivan."
I kneere treading on dangerous ground.
"I was just usio impress Margaret," I said. "And with all the love notes shes been sendiely, I re it must have worked."<q></q>;
Eric laughed aloud, slapping me on the back again.
"You and Margaret-now thats funny. . . ."
I knew Id just dodged a major bullet, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the versation spun off in a new dire. I joined in now and then, but I wasnt really listening to what they were saying. Instead I kept hearing this little voiside me that made me wonder about what Eric had said.
The thing was, Jamie robably the best date I could have had that night, especially sidering how the evening turned out. Not many dates-heot many people, period-would have done what she did. At the same time, her being a good date didnt mean I liked her. I hadnt talked to her at all sihe dance, except when I saw her in drama class, and eve was only a few words here and there. If I liked her at all, I told myself, I would have wao talk to her. If I liked her, I would have offered to walk her home. If I liked her, I would have wa her to Cecils Diner for a basket of hushpuppies and some RC cola. But I didnt want to do any of those things. I really didnt. In my mind, Id already served my penance.
The day, Sunday, I was in my room, w on my application to UN addition to the transcripts from my high school and other personal information, they required five essays of the usual type. If you could meet one person in history, who would that person be and why? he most signifit influen your life and why you feel that way. What do you look for in a role model and why? The essay questions were fairly predictable-lish teacher had told us what to exped Id already worked on a couple of variations in class as homework.
English robably my best subject. Id never received anything lower than an A since I first started school, and I was glad the emphasis for the application process was on writing. If it had been on math, I might have been in trouble, especially if it included those algebra questions that talked about the two trains leaving an hour apart, traveling in opposite dires at forty miles an hour, etc. It wasnt that I was bad in math-I usually pulled at least a C-but it didnt e naturally to me, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, I was writing one of my essays when the ph. The only phone we had was located i, and I had to run downstairs to grab the receiver. I was breathing so loudly that I couldnt make out the voice too well, though it sounded like Angela. I immediately smiled to myself. Even though shed been sick all over the plad Id had to it up, she was actually pretty fun to be around most of the time. And her dress really had been something, at least for the first hour. I figured she robably calling to thank me or even to get together for a barbecue sandwid hushpuppies or something.
"Landon?"
"Oh, hey," I said, playing it cool, "whats going on?"
There was a short pause oher end.
"How are you?"
It was then that I suddenly realized I wasnt speaking to Angela. Instead it was Jamie, and I almost dropped the phone. I t say that I was happy about hearing from her, and for a sed I wondered who had given her my phone numb..er before I realized it robably in the church records.
"Landon?"
"Im fine," I finally blurted out, still in shock.
"Are you busy?" she asked.
"Sort of."
"Oh . . . I see . . . ,"she said, trailing off. She paused again.
"Why are you calling me?" I asked.
It took her a few seds to get the words out.
"Well . . . I just wao know if you wouldnt mind ing by a little later this afternoon."
"ing by?"
"Yes. To my house."
"Your house?" I didnt even try to disguise the growing surprise in my voice. Jamie ig a on.
"Theres something I want to talk to you about. I wouldnt ask if it wasnt important."
"t you just tell me over the phone?"
"Id rather not."
"Well, Im w on my college application essays all afternoon," I said, trying to get out of it.
"Oh . . . well . . . like I said, its important, but I suppose I talk to you Monday at school. . . ."
With that, I suddenly realized that she wasnt going to let me off the hook and that wed end up talking one way or the other. My brain suddenly clicked through the sarios as I tried to figure out whie I should do-talk to her where my friends would see us or talk at her house. Though her option articularly good, there was something in the bay mind, remindihat shed helped me out when Id really , and the least I could do was to listen to what she had to say. I may be irresponsible, but Im a nice irresponsible, if I do say so myself.
Of course, that didnt mean everyone else had to know about it.
"No," I said, "today is fine. . . ."
We arrao meet at five oclock, and the rest of the afternoon ticked by slowly, like the drips from ese water torture. I left my house twenty minutes early, so Id have plenty of time to get there. My house was located he waterfront in the historic part of town, just a few doors down from where Blackbeard used to live, overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway. Jamie lived oher side of town, across the railroad tracks, so it would take me about that long to get there.
It was November, and the temperature was finally cooling down. Ohing I really liked about Beaufort was the fact that the springs and falls lasted practically forever. It might get hot in the summer or snow once every six years, and there might be a cold spell that lasted a week or so in January, but for the most part all you needed was a light jacket to make it through the wioday was one of those perfect days-mid-seventies without a cloud in the sky.
I made it to Jamies house right on time and knocked on her door. Jamie answered it, and a quick peek inside revealed that Hegbert wasnt around. It wasnt quite warm enough for sweet tea or lemonade, a in the chairs on the porch again, without anything to drink. The sun was beginning to lower itself in the sky, and there wasnt anyone oreet. This time I didnt have to move my chair. It hadnt been moved sihe last time Id been there.
"Thank you for ing, Landon," she said. "I know youre busy, but I appreciate your taking the time to do this."
"So, whats so important?" I said, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Jamie, for the first time since Id known her, actually looked nervous as she sat with me. She kept bringing her hands together and pulling them apart.
"I wao ask you a favor," she said seriously.
"A favor?"
She nodded.
At first I thought she was going to ask me to help her decorate the church, like shed mentio homeing, or maybe she needed me to use my mothers car t some stuff to the orphans. Jamie didnt have her lise, and Hegbert heir car anyway, being that there was always a funeral or something he had to go to. But it still took a few seds for her to get the words out.
She sighed, her hands ing together again.
"Id like to ask you if you wouldnt mind playing Tom Thornton in the school play," she said.
Tom Thornton, like I said before, was the man in search of the music box for his daughter, the one who meets the angel. Except for the angel, it was far and away the most important role.
"Well . . . I dont know," I said, fused. "I thought Eddie Jones was going to be Tom. Thats what Miss Garber told us."
Eddie Jones was a lot like Carey Dennison, by the way. He was really skinny, with pimples all over his face, and he usually talked to you with his eyes all squinched up. He had a nervous tid he couldnt help but squinch his eyes whenever he got nervous, which ractically all the time. Hed probably end up spouting his lines like a psychotic blind man if you put him in front of a crowd. To make things worse, he had a stutter, too, and it took him a long time to say anything at all. Miss Garber had given him the role because hed been the only one who offered to do it, but eve was obvious she didnt want him either. Teachers were human, too, but she didnt have much of an option, sino one else had e forward.
"Miss Garber didnt say that exactly. What she said was that Eddie could have the role if no one else tried out for it."
"t someone else do it instead?"
But there really wasnt anyone else, and I k. Because of Hegberts requirement that only seniors perform, the play was in a bind that year. There were about fifty senior boys at the high school, twenty-two of whom were on the football team, and with the team still in the running for the state title, none of them would have the time to go to the rehearsals. Of the thirty or so who were left, more than half were in the band and they had after-school practice as well. A quick calculation showed that there were maybe a dozen other people who could possibly do it.
Now, I didnt want to do the play at all, and not only because Id e to realize that drama was just about the most b class ever ied. The thing was, Id already taken Jamie to homeing, and with her as the angel, I just couldhe thought that Id have to spend every afternoon with her for the month or so. Being seen with her once was bad en..ough . . . but being seen with her every day? What would my friends say?
But I could tell this was really important to her. The simple fact that shed asked made that clear. Jamie never asked anyone for a favor. I think deep down she suspected that no one would ever do her a favor because of who she was. The very realization made me sad.
"What about Jeff Ba? He might do it," I offered.
Jamie shook her head. "He t. His fathers sick, and he has to work iore after school until his father gets ba his feet."
"What about Darren Woods?"
"He broke his arm last week when he slipped on the boat. His arm is in a sling."
"Really? I didnt know that," I said, stalling, but Jamie knew what I was doing.
"Ive been praying about it, Landon," she said simply, and sighed for the sed time. "Id really like this play to be special this year, not for me, but because of my father. I want it to be the best produ ever. I know how much it will mean to him to see me be the angel, because this play reminds him of my mother. . . ." She paused, colleg her thoughts. "It would be terrible if the play was a failure this year, especially since Im involved."
She stopped again befoing on, her voice being more emotional as she went on.
"I know Eddie would do the best he could, I really do. And Im not embarrassed to do the play with him, Im really not. Actually, hes a very nice person, but he told me that hes having sed thoughts about doing it. Sometimes people at school be so . . . so . . . cruel, and I dont want Eddie to be hurt. But . . ." She took a deep breath, "but the real reason Im asking is because of my father. Hes such a good man, Landon. If people make fun of his memory of my mother while Im playing the part . . . well, that would break my heart. And with Eddie and me . . . you knoeople would say."
I nodded, my lips pressed together, knowing that I would have been one of those people she was talking about. In fact, I already was. Jamie and Eddie, the dynamic duo, we called them after Miss Garber had annouhat theyd be the ones doing the roles. The very fact that it was I who had started it up made me feel terrible, almost siy stomach.
She straightened up a little in her seat and looked at me sadly, as if she already knew I was going to say no. I guess she didnt knoas feeling. She went on.
"I know that challenges are alart of the Lords plan, but I dont want to believe that the Lord is cruel, especially to someone like my father. He devotes his life to God, he gives to the unity. And hes already lost his wife and has had to raise me on his own. And I love him so much for it. . . ."
Jamie turned away, but I could see the tears in her eyes. It was the first time Id ever seen her cry. I think part of me wao cry, too.
"Im not asking you to do it for me," she said softly, "Im really not, and if you say no, Ill still pray for you. I promise. But if youd like to do something kind for a wonderful man who means so mue . . . Will you just think about it?"
Her eyes looked like those of a cocker spahat had just messed on the rug. I looked down at my feet.
"I dont have to think about it," I finally said. "Ill do it."
I really didnt have a choice, did I?
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