Playing by Heart by Anne Mateer Page A

going?”
    â€œThe school board meeting about the basketball program, remember?” I’d told her I’d be attending, though I hadn’t explained the details. Not yet. Not until I’d secured approval.
    Her mouth twisted into a scowl. “You play little boy games while your brother does a man’s work.” She reached into the pocket of the apron still covering her clothes and yanked out an envelope. “Clay’s last letter from the home shores.” She looked down and started reading aloud.
    â€œâ€˜Tomorrow we sail for France. But don’t fret, Ma. I’ll make you proud. You have a son helping to make the world safe for democracy.’” She folded the sheet, slipped it back into the envelope. “Nothing you do here can compare to the honor he’ll bring to our family over there.”
    I rubbed the back of my neck, ill-tempered responses battering my brain like whizbangs. But I kept my mouth shut tight, forcing my mind back to the day Ma sat with the telegram in her hand, tears streaming down her face. What mother should have to tell her young sons that their father had been shot for desertion? What wife should have to endure that mortification? Remembering helped me find the grace to forgive her harsh words.
    The screen door creaked open. Giles crossed the room, greeted Ma. She smiled and patted his cheek. I looked away.
    â€œReady?” Giles asked.
    â€œReady as I’ll ever be.” I picked up my hat.
    Giles chuckled. “Don’t worry. You have a way of making people come to see things your way.”
    Right. Nothing I’ve ever said has made Ma come around to my way of thinking. Now, Clay, on the other hand, had a golden tongue. I grinned, wondering what disagreeable army tasks it had saved him from so far. I missed seeing him talk himself out of every jam.
    â€œLet’s go.” Papers in hand, I trotted down the front steps. Giles’ shoes slapped the ground behind me. Once we put some distance between us and the house, I slowed. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know it isn’t important in the light of world events, but—”
    â€œHey now! Basketball means a lot to these kids. As does contributing to the war effort. And isn’t that what we’re fighting for? The right to decide our own destiny?”
    I shrugged. In a sense, I guessed he was right. But even with my plan to purchase liberty bonds, it did seem like a paltry task compared to Clay’s—and now Giles’—sacrifice. Maybe Ma was right. Maybe I was hiding. A coward like my father.
    Squares of light cut into the darkness, angling upon the sidewalk as we neared the high school. I breathed a quick prayer. I’d been willing to go to war, but I believed God had told me to stay here, to care for those who depended on me. I prayed He’d be with me as I dug my own sort of trench, ducked my head, and held my ground.

    The school board discussed other business first. My foot tapped against the hard floor as I read through my notes again, rehearsing the arguments in my head. Then Giles’ elbow bumped my ribs. When he had my attention, he nodded toward the front.
    â€œNow we’ll hear new business from Mr. Vaughn. Something about the basketball program, I believe?” Mr. Tanger’s bushy eyebrows lowered, as if he’d already decided against my proposition.
    I stood, cleared my throat, and handed the fact sheets to Giles. He distributed them to the school board members, his usual optimism giving him an air of nonchalance.
    â€œI’ve come tonight not only on behalf of the Dunn Bulldogs basketball program but also on behalf of our community’s desire to participate in the Great War being waged in Europe.”
    School board members snapped to attention at the mention of the war. Now to procure their full support.
    â€œOur town has embraced the young game of basketball, as have our students. But we have a