Texas Heat

by Fern Michaels

  Riley peered from the school bus window at the lone rider thundering across the fields. He knew it was his aunt Maggie. He also knew something was going on. Cole was staying home... and not because he was sick.

  It was one o’clock when Maggie climbed the stairs to the second floor. Her heart hammered in her chest. What would she see in her son’s eyes? What would he say to her? She opened the door and entered the room.

  It was empty. The diaries were piled neatly in their respective boxes. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. She hadn’t allowed herself to think, even for a moment, that Cole would cut and run. He was her son; he wouldn’t do that. She ran into the hallway shouting his name.

  “Psst, shhh!” Cole hissed loudly, almost as loudly as his mother was shouting.

  “Cole!” Maggie leaned against the door frame, her face drained of all color. Cole was sitting in the rocking chair giving Jessie a bottle of water.

  “Jeez, I just got her to sleep.”

  Maggie literally slid down the door frame till she was sitting on the floor. She waited.

  Cole watched his mother for a few seconds. He knew she was waiting for him to say something. “You’re one hell of a lady, Mam.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes back in her head. “Don’t swear in front of Jessie.”

  Cole grinned. “So, you’re one heck of a lady. I was trying to emphasize a point. Did you get it?”

  “Yeahhh,” Maggie drawled.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Up on the knoll.”

  “Didja get any answers?”

  “No. I just talk it out up there. The answers have to come down here. Welcome to Sunbridge, Cole.”

  “You want to take this kid? She just wet my pants. Aunt Susan said I didn’t have to worry about her nappies. That’s her pants, right?”

  “Yeah. Diapers. In England they call them nappies. Here, I’ll take her.”

  Cole smiled. Maggie smiled back.

  “I’m going to school,” he said, heading out the door. “I have archery practice, and the coach kicks us off if we miss. I’ll take the the moped. See you at supper.”

  “Shoot one for me,” Maggie called.

  “Shoot one what?”

  “Arrow, you ninny. Go, go already.”

  Jessie’s diaper secure, Maggie laid her on her stomach. Her fist went immediately to her mouth. God, she thought, I have a son. I have my son.

  She walked to the window. The sun shining down on Sunbridge was warm and golden.

  She watched from the window as Cole rolled his moped out to the driveway. She saw him look up and around. He, too, was noticing for the first time how bright it was.

  Sunbridge.

  A dusty pickup truck rattled down the road, its bed overloading the springs until the rear license plate was only inches from the ground. It bumped to a halt and the driver, Ben Simms, rolled down the window and peered up at the wooden arch proclaiming the name Sunbridge. Callused hands jammed his worn straw hat farther down onto his grizzled head. He turned to the young girl sitting beside him. “Looks like this is it. Mind your manners now, gal. We need this job.”

  She wanted to die, just die. At the last crossroads a ranch truck filled with workers had hooted and hollered as the Simms truck strained past them. And no wonder—they looked like a rerun of the Beverly Hillbillies. The only thing missing was Old Granny in her rocking chair.

  “Luana, you hear me? We need this job and you well know it. Just sit there like the proper little lady you are and let me do the talkin’. When the missus talks to you, just smile and let her know you’re willin’ to work. Got that?”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Ben forced the truck in gear and turned into the drive. He glanced at his daughter and was satisfied when he saw her running a comb through her long, sandy-colored hair. Sprucing up, just like her ma. Spittin’ image of her ma, too. Luana dropped her comb and sat with her hands in her lap just the way he liked. She was a good girl, he thought, not like her ma. Trixie had been a wild one till the day he’d married her, and then she’d settled down some. But when Luana was six years old she’d cut and run with a farmhand, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since.

  “I think we’ll like it here, don’t you, Luana?” he said enthusiastically. “Look out there at those fields. Hear tell they raise a good strain of cattle out this way. You seen it, ain’tcha? The sun with the single bar? Stands for Sunbridge.”

  He squinted through the bug-spattered windshield, his wind-roughened features and square bristly chin strong and still beneath the brim of his hat. His caramel-colored eyes narrowed as they rode past outbuildings and stables and miles of white cross-fencing.

  “This is some spread, ain’t it, Luana?”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  “That all you got to say? Yes, Pa; yes, Pa. You sound like a broken record.”

  “Yes, Pa.” There was an insolent tone in the soft, girlish voice that drew Ben’s attention. Saucerlike brown eyes, a color deeper and brighter than his own, continued staring out through the windshield. When she felt him looking at her, she dropped her thick, sooty lashes demurely.

  “You know I don’t like you wearing them short skirts,” he growled, more for her lack of interest and insolence than for the skirt. He eyed her legs and the generous expanse of thigh. “What’s these people gonna think, you dressed like that? Ain’t no call for you to dress like some tramp. You sit in the truck while I talk business. Don’t get out, you hear?”

  “Pa, this skirt’s the only one I got. Miz Halpern give it to me. You said it was all right; you said! There ain’t no hem to let down.”

  Looked like her ma and had a mouth like her, too. Trixie always had an answer. In another year or two he was going to have his hands full if he didn’t come down hard on her now. “Then you should’ve worn long pants. Sinful. It’s a sin to show so much of yourself.”

  Luana snorted. She stared at her father, her eyes half-closed in the bright early-spring sunshine. She’d been practicing this expression from the cover of True Confession’s magazine for weeks now; she couldn’t wait to try it out on some real men. Pa was always saying this was trampy, that was trashy. Hell, yes. Pa was the tramp and she was the trash. But all that would change when she turned sixteen and got herself away from him and his preachin’. She’d head for the big city, and the first thing she’d buy was the brightest dress she could find and high-heeled shoes to match. She’d get fancy combs and do her hair up like in the magazines, and then she’d buy a whole bagful of Maybelline and go to town on her face. Big gold earrings and some bracelets, maybe even one for her ankle.

  “You wearin’ a brazzere, gal?” Ben said abruptly; breaking into her thoughts. “You know I don’t like it when you’re bouncin’ around under your shirt. You’re a good girl, and I want you to stay that way. You ain’t gonna turn out like your ma.”

  “Yes, Pa. I’m wearin’ one. Only it ain’t my fault it’s all stretched out. I need new duds. You keep sayin’ you’re gonna get me some, only you don’t,” Luana complained petulantly.

  “We ain’t been in one place long enough to put money aside for extras. We’re clean and that’s what counts, a lot more than fancy duds do. If the folks in town were right about them needin’ help out here, we just might have that extra money right soon.”

  Luana rolled her eyes and slipped on her sunglasses. It was the same tired old story, all the same excuses. This place wasn’t going to be any different from all the others.

  They’d live in a shack for a few weeks and then they’d move on, mostly because Pa would run up bills and drink all his wages. But Pa was a good worker. Some of the time it wasn’t even his drinking—it was when the women got a look at her that they were sent packing. But Pa never got mad about that. He’d say in his best Sunday preacher voice that God gave her her beauty, and she had to bear it and so did he. Then they’d read from Scripture. Every day it was the same thing. Maybe if they stayed here, she could go back to school. She was so far be
hind now, she didn’t know if she could ever catch up. But she was a fast learner, and usually there was some boy who’d offer to help her as long as he could look down the front of her blouse.

  Luana had learned early that boys wanted to look real bad. If you let them touch you, they’d give you just about anything you wanted. She’d managed to get three dollars off one boy just for letting him stick his hand down her blouse. She’d bought black mascara and a bag of M&M’s from the dime store. She would’ve had ten dollars from that hunk who hung out by the trailer court in Pineville if his girlfriend hadn’t come along. Maybe she was like her ma, she thought defiantly. So what? Pa couldn’t give her the things she wanted; she had to find a way to get them for herself.

  Luana squirmed in the cracked leather seat. Just thinking about all those things the boys wanted to do to her made her feel funny. She wondered what it would be like to really “do it.” She’d had enough offers, but she was holding out. Being a virgin had its good points. She knew she was what men called a tease; boys called her that, too. Her breasts were big, full and ripe. She wanted to look like Dolly Parton. Her waist was tiny and her legs were long and slender. If she just had the right clothes, she knew she’d be a knockout.

  The pickup bounced over the road. Ben could see his daughter’s breasts jiggle with each bump. His lips tightened. Maybe it was time the girl had some new clothes— clothes that fit. Other things, too. Living like gypsies, from pillar to post, wasn’t good for Luana. His pretty little girl deserved better than he was giving her.

  “I’ll drive around the back,” he said as he maneuvered the truck around the circular drive. “You stay inside. Keep the windows rolled up and don’t go talkin’ to no one.”

  “Good luck, Pa,” Luana said softly, looking around her. Maybe her pa could get work here. The people in town had said something about putting up some cabins for crippled children. It might be fun to live in a nice place like this for a while.

  Maggie and Susan talked to Ben Simms for a long time. Susan showed him the sketches of the buildings that were to go up. He looked at them carefully. “I can do it. I do good work, missus. You’ll find no fault with anything I do.”

  “We plan to erect modular units, constructed at the factory and brought out here to the site. It would save a good deal of time. You’d be responsible for helping to lay in the foundations for the buildings and for building fences. I need a kind of jack-of-all-trades, Mr. Simms. Think you can fill the bill?” Susan had already decided to hire him. He looked capable and eager. The work she was offering was menial and the pay low. Most of the skilled laborers and construction workers in this area had already been snapped up by Cary.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied eagerly. “But I’ll have to find a place to live. I have a daughter to take care of. She’s fourteen and needs to go to school.”

  Maggie met Susan’s gaze. Maggie nodded. “There’s a small apartment all furnished over the garage. You could stay there. The school bus stops at the end of the road. Our boys take it.”

  “Boys! You got boys here? My girl is only fourteen. How old are your boys?” he asked anxiously.

  “Sixteen. They’re good boys, Mr. Simms,” Maggie assured him. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Boys that age are full of juices. I speak my mind, missus. I’m a God-fearin’ man who reads Scripture, and so does my daughter. If you say they’re good boys, I’ll take your word for it. About that apartment, now. If I take it, I’ll work Saturdays for nothing. Is that fair?”

  Susan and Maggie nodded. “When can you start?” Susan asked.

  “All I got is out there in that truck. My daughter and our belongings. We can move right in. I can start to work this afternoon.”

  “That’s just fine, Mr. Simms. Why don’t you drive around to the garage. The door leading to the upstairs is open. It’s probably dusty. I can send our housekeeper over to clean it up for you.”

  “No need for that. Luana is a good little housekeeper. Just like her ma used to be.”

  “After you’re moved in, you come back here and we’ll go into town and order your supplies,” Susan told him. “Everything’s been staked out.”

  “If we’re going to town, do you think I could register my daughter for school?”

  “Of course.”

  As they followed Ben Simms outside; Maggie and Susan smiled gleefully at each other. “God does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?” Susan whispered, and both women giggled. Then they saw Luana Simms get out of the truck to help her father carry the cartons and bags up the stairs.

  “That’s Luana?” Maggie gaspped, gripping Susan’s arm. “Didn’t he say she was fourteen?”

  “That’s what he said,” Susan said in awe. “More like fourteen going on thirty-four!”

  “I never looked like that at fourteen.” Maggie giggled. “I was pregnant, though. This smells like trouble to me, Susan. My God, wait till the boys see her at the bus stop tomorrow.” She groaned. “You don’t think she’d wear that skirt, do you?”

  “God, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I’ll wander over there after you two go to town. You know, offer my help or something.”

  “Why do I have this feeling I’ve made a mistake?” Susan muttered.

  “I’ll give you my expert opinion a little later. If you’re going into town with Mr. Simms, I’ll have Martha stay with Jessie while I talk to the child.”

  “That one is no child. Trust me. I like Mr. Simms, though. I bet he gives me a good job.” She shrugged. “And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll ask him to move on.”

  Maggie’s face wore a dubious look. She’d never known Susan to make such a quick judgment before. Normally, she thought about things until you wanted to scream at her to make a decision. She didn’t realize her fingers were crossed till one of them started to ache.

  When Susan and Ben Simms left for town, Maggie knocked softly on the door of the garage apartment. A muffled voice told her to come in. Maggie drew in her breath and walked inside, not knowing quite what to expect.

  Neither did Luana, it appeared. She’d been wiping the kitchen floor and stood up abruptly at the sight of Maggie, stopping only to put the soapy rag back in the bucket. She looked around for a towel; finding none, she wiped her hands on her short denim skirt. “Are you Miz Tanner?” she asked shyly.

  “Yes. You must be Luana. I hope you and your father like this place. It’s kind of small, but it does have two bedrooms.”

  “Ma’am, this is the grandest place. The grandest. We ain’t never had anything this fine before. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Maggie stared at the girl, feeling as if she’d just been run over with a tractor by her vehemence.

  Luana’s chest heaved as she continued to talk at breakneck speed. “We ain’t white trash, Miz Tanner. We’re poor, but we’re good folks. My ma, she run off when I was six. My pa says she was trash, but I don’t believe that. She wanted fun and bright-colored clothes and perfume. Pa couldn’t give it to her.”

  “Yes ... well ... I’m sure everything will be fine. Your father is going to be working for my sister....”

  “You must be happy living in this swell place. I don’t think I ever saw such a beautiful house.” She pronounced it bee-yoo-tee-ful.

  Maggie laughed. “Yes, I am happy here. Look, your father was concerned about the school. The bus stops right at the end of the road. It picks up my son and my nephew at seven-fifteen and gets back here around four in the afternoon. I think your father is going to register you this afternoon. . . . Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  Luana tilted her head, and Maggie groaned inwardly. The ripe little mouth seemed to pout as the girl thought about what she’d just been asked. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t want you to worry about me breaking these nice dishes or making a mess. I know how to keep house and cook. I’ll keep this place just spotless. You can come here anytime and check it over. How old is your son and nephew?”

  M
aggie was still working on the house check. “Sixteen,” she said without thinking. Whoaaa, she thought. “Are you interested in boys?” she asked carefully.

  Luana’s voice was soft, without guile, almost shy. “No, not really. Boys seem to like me, though. Pa keeps a tight rein on me. I’m too young to date. I was just wondering how much older they were than me because they might not know where to direct me at school tomorrow.”

  “They’ll know. Trust me,” Maggie said flatly.

  “What do the kids wear? Is it a fancy school?”

  As compared to what? Maggie wanted to ask. She supposed it was fancy or would appear so to someone like Luana. “Neatness counts,” she said.

  “I’m clean and I’m neat. I don’t have much, only hand-me-downs from people Pa worked for.”

  Maggie almost choked. Honey, she wanted to say, there isn’t going to be anyone looking at your clothes. “Well, if there’s nothing more I can do, I’ll be going back to the house. If you think of something, let me know. By the way, there’s a washer and dryer in the back of the garage. Feel free to use them.”

  “Ma’am, do you mean that? Do you really mean that?”

  “Of course I mean it. Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “We ain’t never lived anywhere where there was such fine things. I do the wash in the bathtub unless there’s a Laundromat, but that’s so expensive.”

  On the walk back to the house, Maggie couldn’t make up her mind if her leg had been pulled or not. She puzzled over it all evening. When the boys left the table after dinner she casually mentioned Luana and asked both boys to watch out for her.

  “Eighth grade! Mother!” Cole grimaced. “How’s it going to look with us squiring an eighth-grade baby around?”

  Riley grinned. “You’re asking a lot, Aunt Maggie. We’ve got our images to consider.”

  “Nevertheless, you’ll do as I ask, won’t you?” Maggie said pointedly.

  “Yes, ma’am, only we’re not going to like it.”

  When the boys left the room, Maggie smiled at Susan. “Wait until they see this eighth-grade baby. At least it’s only for one day, and I suppose that won’t kill them.”