Lookin' Back, Texas

by Leanna Ellis

  “Now, they wouldn’t be secrets if I went around telling everybody, would they?” Her voice has a husky lilt to it.

  “Am I everybody?”

  “No, but you’re so … California.”

  My spine automatically stiffens. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It didn’t sound complimentary.”

  “Probably jealousy talking.”

  I crook my head to the side. Josie’s a hazy shadow in the fading light. I’m not sure she can see me in the dark either.

  She adds, “You got out. I didn’t.”

  I lean back, trying not to think about the bugs smashed on the windshield. The stars fill the sky like glittering diamonds of promise and purpose. Leaving didn’t seem so difficult to me, but then, I did it. Of course, I was pushed out by my mother. She told me my whole life that I was too good for this Podunk town. I never felt too good. In fact, I never felt good enough, like being at the fair and standing against the big measuring stick to see if I could ride the roller coaster. “Sorry, girlie too short.” Too whatever. “Maybe next year.”

  I glance over at Josie now, seeing the outline of her shape. In some ways she hasn’t changed at all. She’s still curvy, still overly confident. Only the light reveals she’s aged.

  “Why didn’t you move away?” I ask.

  She takes a pull on her beer, making slurping sounds. “Thought I might leave with Robby Zimmerman. Remember him? But then he only went as far as Austin. Then there was Todd Braun. And somebody after that. And somebody else, I don’t remember now.” She coughs, clearing her throat that had become husky. “Just led me in circles all these years. And then I guess this is where I am. Where I’ll always be.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes not. It’s definitely always interesting.”

  It’s the status quo syndrome that I grew up with—the same status quo that made me ask “Why?” when told I should sit straight and cross my legs at the ankle.

  “Because,” Mother would say.

  “Why?” I asked when told I had to wear a dress to church when my friends were wearing cutoffs and jeans. The hose Mother made me wear were hot and bothersome.

  “Because you’re a lady. That’s what ladies do.”

  “Why?” I asked about the way Mother taught me to scrub the toilet with Clorox.

  “It’s worked all these years. Who are you to say it’s wrong?”

  I quit asking why, but the questions piled up inside me. I suppose I always knew I would do things differently because I sensed something missing, something that couldn’t be articulated or explained.

  “You could still move away,” I say to Josie, “find someplace else. Start over.”

  “Nah. I know people here. Know who they are. Know who I am.” She juts her chin toward the west, or maybe it’s the east we’re facing. The moonlight glints in her eye. The true rebel of Luckenbach finds comfort in the way things have always been. Maybe I’m the rebel. “Out there,” she says, “I wouldn’t know for sure. Who would I be? What would I do? And I like knowing. I don’t like surprises. You know?”

  “It can be scary. Sometimes I wonder what others see, what they think about me. Sometimes where I live, things seem very superficial.”

  “Everybody’s somebody in Luckenbach.”

  Josie laughs a gut-busting laugh at her own joke. I haven’t heard anyone laugh that way in a long while, in a way that says she doesn’t care if anyone hears or notices.

  “It’s all about who your grandpappy was or wasn’t,” she says. “What you drive or don’t drive. What church you go to or don’t go to. If you’re in the VFW or the men’s lodge. Or the sewing group or cowpunchers. If you play the guitar or fiddle. People are people no matter where you go.” She picks at the sticker on the bottle, slowly peeling it off in one piece. “Do you have people in California lying about their husbands’ being dead?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say they’re opposed to it.” I laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me though.”

  “Do you have good friends out there?”

  “Sure. We’re mostly all transplants, all from someplace else, trying to fit in. But Mike … well, he’s my best friend. He makes me feel secure.” And yet, he doesn’t know everything about me. No one does. I close my eyes for a moment, feel a gentle breeze against my face.

  “You’re lucky,” she says.

  I don’t say anything. Maybe I’ve said too much. I don’t really believe in luck. I feel more blessed, like every good thing in my life is a gift from God. But it is all so undeserved. And that troubles me.

  “You don’t miss it here, do you?”

  “No.” And I know this much is true. “All this drama is too much for me. I like my quiet life. And it is quiet for the most part.” I’m not sure who I’m more upset at—Mother or Dad. “We can see the ocean from our house in La Jolla. You should visit sometime. Some days it’s calm and peaceful. But I can detect ripples along the surface, so you know the potential for something powerful is there. And then the wind will churn up the waves. That’s what it’s like for me to come home.”

  Josie taps my leg with her toe. “Your mom, she’s a ticket. But deep down, she really does care.”

  “What about your mom?” I ask, remembering the fights. More like brawls. “How is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t keep up?”

  “She knows where I am.”

  I reach out to Josie, then stop myself. She always hated sympathy or pity. “Where is she now?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  I breathe in the warm, dry air. Is that the real reason Josie never left? Her mother knows where she is and can find her if she wants? Is she waiting for some sort of reconciliation? I know that if there is going to be a truce between my parents, then I am going to have to orchestrate it, because the battle lines have been drawn.

  It’s dark out here, nothing but a little moon glow. Scrub brush and old mesquite spring up from the hard-packed earth, like pom-poms dotting the ground. Makes me wonder how I sprang up out of my family.

  I never wanted to be like Mother. She dominated Daddy. I always wanted Daddy to stand up to her, but he never would. Maybe this is his way of drawing the line, saying no more. But will Mother get the last word?

  Mike is different from my father. He’s strong but not domineering, yet I know his vulnerabilities. He’s allowed me to glimpse his weaknesses, which I believe are strengths. They help him be the man he is.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” Josie asks.

  “How California and Texas are so different, but when you look up at the stars it’s really the same.”

  “The shoes might be more expensive, but you can still step in—”

  “There are no cow patties in La Jolla.”

  “I was going to say gum.”

  I laugh. “My husband and father are different too.” I don’t voice the question reverberating in my head, pounding in my heart: Am I different from my mother? Or am I just like her? It’s my deepest fear.

  “Your dad’s all right. Nice. He just needs to believe in himself more.”

  “Hard when Mother’s the way she is.”

  “True enough.”

  “What about you?” Who’s special in her life? “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  “You mean why I’m not married?”

  “No.” But yes. “Okay, why?”

  “That seems to be what it all comes down to. Everyone wants to know if I’m married, or if not, then why? Like that’s the only thing that matters.”

  “I just want to know about you.”

  “Nothing much happens here. I have a nothing job down in Boerne. But I like this one. I like my boss. I’m the office manager for an insurance salesman. I guess insurance is important. We all gotta have it, don’t we?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just like we gotta have attorneys, the scourge of human existence.”
She laughs.

  I smile. I’ve heard all the lawyer jokes, usually from Mike.

  “Anyway, my boss is planted.”

  “Planted?”

  “Married. Solidly.”

  “That’s good.” But what about Josie?

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of wanderers around. Those always looking for something more, something exciting. But he’s solid. That’s how come I left my last job.”

  “Because your boss wanted more than filing done?”

  “Oh, we had an affair. But to end it, I had to leave.” She sighs heavily. “Really screwed up my insurance for about three months.”

  “So are you seeing anyone now?” I hope it’s not a married man again.

  “Well, I was. He wanted more. I guess I can’t figure out my type.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, a while back, I decided maybe a younger man was for me. They’re less complicated. Less desperate. But they tend to buck. And I happened to pick the wrong one—a bit too young, if you know what I mean.”

  I’m afraid I do. Thankful for the covering of darkness to hide my wide eyes, I remain quiet, letting her fill the silence.

  “Don’t judge me, Suzanne. Don’t you dare—”

  “I’m not, Josie. I’m not. Really.” I can’t.

  She shifts around on the hood of the car. I can’t tell what she’s doing, but the metal gives a blurping sound. “So then,” she says, “I kinda liked this older man. I mean I’ve dated older men but not this old, not old enough to be my own daddy.” She laughs again.

  “What happened?”

  “Maybe I’m just not the marrying kind.”

  “Why do you say that? I’m sure there’s—”

  “No, it’s not that. Maybe I’ve been on the other end of marriage so often I don’t believe in marriage anymore, that two people can stick together through thick and thin and make it work. I expect marriages to break apart like clay, crumbling after too many years.”

  Mike and I have been married almost twenty years now. We have a strong partnership. Only once did I fear for our marriage. But together we overcame the gulf that separated us. It’s not like us to be separated by miles, and I miss him tonight. I look up at the vast stars and wish again that he were here with me.

  I hope my parents can fix their marriage, but I realize I’m leaning more toward doubt.

  “I’ve seen a lot of divorces too,” I say. “Sometimes in La Jolla it seems like people change spouses as often as shoes.” I fold my hand over my wedding ring, feel the cool diamond press into my flesh.

  “So how have you made it work for so long?”

  “I don’t know. It takes work. It’s not something I can do on my own. We work at it together. We both compromise.” My answer is still unclear. I don’t feel like an expert on marriage. In fact, I feel ill qualified to try to salvage my parents’ marriage or offer advice to anyone on the subject.

  “The guy I’m seeing now,” she says almost hesitantly, “I’ve known him forever. We’ve never even had sex. Still, there’s something there. Something.”

  “Something is a good start.”

  She laughs, then stops. She hugs her knees to her chest and sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

  “Maybe it’s not so complicated,” I say. “Maybe he’ll be the one.”

  “Maybe we can figure out a way to get your folks back together.”

  “No small miracle required. I’m not even sure why my dad left. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “Hmm.” She slaps her bare feet together. “Seems to me the biggest obstacle is your mom. Forgiveness isn’t her strong suit, is it?”

  “Not exactly. But I’m not sure my dad wants to come back either. I haven’t been able to reach him on his cell phone since I arrived. So I don’t really know what’s going on.”

  “Maybe your mom really did him in. Maybe the funeral isn’t so fake.”

  I attempt a laugh. That’s ridiculous. But then again, I saw my mother, saw the anger, the hurt. I can’t imagine Mother doing anything that extreme. But then again, a fake funeral is pretty bizarre.

  “Anything is possible, right?” She pushes against my arm, jostling me. I grab for the hood of the car. “Look at you! You went and married well.”

  I shift, and the hard metal beneath me pops and groans. “What did you think? That I’d end up in a trailer park somewhere?”

  “I thought you’d marry Drew.”

  Her comment comes out of the dark and stuns me.

  4

  Drew

  Sheriff! You gotta see this!” Drew looked up from the stack of paperwork on his desk. Before he could push back his chair, his deputy stumbled through the door. Sweat dotted his face. Draped over his shoulder was an enormous rattlesnake. Drew first thought, Snake! Second, It’s dead.

  “Lookie here.” Deputy Finney’s round face split into a grin. He flopped the heavy reptilian body onto the desk. He was out of breath, huffing and puffing as if he had run a marathon. “Don’t worry. It’s dead.”

  “I see that. Why’d you bring it here?”

  “Got a call from Red Burnett. He wanted someone to see what a confounded thing this ol’ snake was doing. Looked like it was trying its best to get to higher ground. Kept trying to creep up the wall on the backside of his house. Got caught in the wires of his air conditioner. Strangest sight you ever did see. Have you ever seen a snake this big?”

  “Can’t say I have.” Didn’t care about seeing this one. It was as big around as a pipe used by the drilling companies where Drew worked as a teenager during summer breaks. “How’d you kill it?”

  “Bashed in its head.” A drop of blood landed on the floor, the snake’s head, as big as Drew’s fist, dangled above it. “Thought I’d skin it and sell it over at the Luckenbach store.”

  “A snake like that could kill an elephant,” Drew said more to himself than the crowd of anxious faces that had appeared at his open office door.

  Drew often worried that if a real emergency ever happened in Gillespie County, Deputy Finney, better known as Flipper, would keel over from a heart attack with his cheeseburger belly. But he’d been a staple in Luckenbach for so long and was fairly reliable now that he’d sobered up. There were other deputies, but Flipper seemed to be Drew’s right-hand man. Besides, young men weren’t lining up to be a deputy in these parts. Austin and San Antonio were where the real action was.

  The snake twitched.

  Someone at the door gasped.

  “Everybody out,” Drew said, not wanting a wounded snake on the loose in the outer office. One of his deputies pulled the door shut.

  Flipper, his eyes as big around as pie plates, yanked out his revolver.

  “Wait!” Drew held out a hand then edged out of the line of his deputy’s fire. “Don’t—”

  A blast echoed in the small room, made Drew’s ears ring, and left a ragged hole in the side of his desk. Bits of paper spiraled through the air like confetti. Unharmed but now fully awake, the snake slithered off the desk onto the tile floor.

  “You okay, Sheriff?” someone asked from the other side of the office door.

  “Fine.” Drew clenched his teeth in irritation. He kept his eye on the snake, which twitched its tail, making that hideous sound God intended to grab a man’s full attention. Drew was all for listening to admonitions God might put in his path. He had discovered over the years that warnings came in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes it was the tingle that went up his spine when he approached a darkened building. Sometimes it was something the preacher said when Drew managed to make it to church on Sunday mornings. Sometimes it was just learning from his own foolish mistakes. In any case, Drew tried to pay attention. The snake certainly had his immediate attention. It faced the window, hissing at the last rays of light seeping through the blinds.

  The door, Drew noticed, had inched back open. Cops and those in law enforcement were a curious lot. Someone coughed. Someone else offered to shoot it.


  “Everything is under control. Y’all get on back now.” Irritated at the paperwork (which would take days to redo) now scattered about his office, Drew skirted the desk, all the while keeping his eyes on the aggravated reptile.

  “Sorry, Sheriff,” Flipper took a step backward, his gun hand quivering. “Now it looks mad.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Drew glanced at the wood splinters littering the floor around his desk. He hoped to avoid any further mess. A shot-up window would only cost the taxpayers. He looked about for a metal trash can, but this was the biggest snake he’d ever seen; no container at hand would hold it for long. He certainly didn’t want it free to roam his office while he waited on some zoologist to come tranquilize it. Nope, Drew figured, there was only one solution to this problem.

  “Looks like you gave it a concussion, Flipper. It seems confused.”

  “You mean, it’s been alive this whole time?”

  “Well, it wasn’t resurrected.”

  Laughter at the door reminded Drew that an audience of office personnel and deputies were watching. His office was situated toward the back of the county building, away from traffic. “You still have that hoe in the back of your truck?”

  “Maybe. Whatcha wanna it for?”

  “Bustin’ its head would do less damage to my office than shooting it.”

  “Gettin’ that close might be dangerous.”

  “Using this bad boy for target practice isn’t particularly safe either.” For precaution, Drew pulled his own Glock and clicked off the safety. “Good thing it didn’t wake up when you were driving here.”

  “I should have let Burnett skin it first. Maybe we should call a professional.” Flipper’s hand shook so hard his gun wobbled. “We could get one of them snake wranglers from the Austin Zoo to come out here.”

  “You are a professional,” Drew reminded him.

  “Did you hear the news, Sheriff?” A deputy stepped one foot inside the office door, caught a glimpse of the snake and backed up again. “Zoo over there had a giraffe get loose.”

  “What is it with the animals tonight?”

  “You reckon somethin’ awful’s about to happen?” Flipper’s jowls sagged.