Born to Sing, no. 1

by Donna Del Oro

  There was a smattering of polite applause. This was old news for everyone and a kind of review of last Christmas’ kudos. I felt like Big Jim’s accolades were turning into a corporate banquet speech. I looked on curiously, waiting for his big announcement about the ranch. Was he going to sell it? Or, with D.J.’s help, have it sold after he’d passed on? Was he going to turn it into a guest ranch for city-weary urbanites from Dallas and Austin? And what exactly was D.J.’s role in all of this?

  “Anyway, in my will and testament—”

  All ears perked up.

  “I’ve left the Circle M to my son, D.J. and my grandson, Jamie McKay, with the provision that both live here for a majority of the fiscal year. D.J.’s got a degree in Agribusiness that he’s never used. Now he’s expressed an interest in spending more time here and working the business. My grandson, though just a baby, must be raised on this ranch, not in some suburban box…like some hamster in a cage. There’s a greater chance he’ll learn to love the place as much as I do if he lives here and learns what country living is all about.”

  My mouth dropped open. I sat there, stupefied. From D.J.’s half-lidded return gaze, it was apparent that he had already agreed to move to the ranch. His talk with his father and brothers this afternoon—everyone knew. Big Jim had made sure that none of his sons would object to the arrangement or contest the will. But what about ME? D.J.’s wife and Jamie’s mother?

  Was this “the perfect solution” that D.J. alluded to almost two hours ago? How on God’s earth was THIS perfect? If Jamie and D.J. lived here at the Circle M ranch, then SHE’D have to live here, too. And Sara.

  What on earth was going on?

  “Eventually, Jamie will inherit this ranch through a custodial trust and the executor will be his father, D.J. Matt drew up the papers and they were signed this afternoon. All my sons have agreed to this, as has their mother. She will have lifelong residential rights here as long as she pleases, of course, as will my other sons and their wives. This is their home as well as it is Jamie’s, D.J.’s and Eva’s. There’s plenty of space here to build a family compound if the other boys want to build homes. And if D.J’s second child should be a boy, then Jamie will share the inheritance with his brother. Thereby keeping the McKay’s Circle M ranch in the male hands of the McKay bloodline. That was the will of my father and his father before him, and that is my will as well. The Circle M ranch will stay in the male bloodline.”

  Big Jim looked spent and fatigued with the effort of his speech but he had one last statement before he sat down and began to hand out the cigars.

  “Now let’s adjourn to the living room. Eva, my dear, would you sing and play for us? I’d dearly love to hear ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’—one of my favorite Christmas songs.”

  I sat there, too stunned to speak. Even nodding and smiling woodenly seemed to be the gestures of a character whose role I was performing. With an actress’ consummate skill, I calmly stood and shook my wavy hair back away from my shoulders. It took every ounce of pretense to keep my face composed, smiling pleasantly at everyone as I made my way to the gleaming baby grand piano in the living room. I couldn’t look at D.J. until I was ready but I sensed he was following me into the large, elegantly appointed room with a hesitance in his footsteps.

  The McKay granddaughters were teasing me by holding in their hands crystal goblets from the dining table, eager to watch the delicate crystal crack as one had last Christmas when I had sung O Holy Night. Liz and the girls’ mothers made remonstrative sounds and took the goblets away but there was a titter of laughter from the men, especially Big Jim. I smiled good-naturedly as well, continuing my pretense that all was well.

  My home was now the Circle M ranch! Without consulting me, D.J. had peremptorily made an enormous change in our lives. Sure, Jamie would benefit from it but what about ME? And Sara? Wasn’t anyone concerned whether we’d want to live on a ranch an hour’s drive from Austin? Another hour’s flight to Houston? My career, my home, was in Houston while D.J. flitted all over the globe. Sara went to a school she liked, had a teacher and friends she loved. We had wonderful neighbors in Kingwood and some of their children were Sara’s playmates.

  Besides, when was HE going to supervise ranch business? D.J. was gone more than half the time, performing all over Europe. And when had HE become a born-again rancher? Most of all, who believed I’d want to live with my haughty, socialite mother-in-law? That was a purgatory I wasn’t quite prepared to endure!

  Damnation! Oh, double damnation!

  My mind in an uproar, I could barely see the songbook in front of me. It took more than a few moments for me to focus my eyes on the swimming notes. I had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself, to keep myself from grabbing D.J. by his short, dark curls and shaking him silly. Then pounding his head against the brick walkway outside.

  As I passed Big Jim’s ornate antique gun display cabinet, I fantasized about grabbing one of those old Colt revolvers and aiming it at D.J.’s heart! His black, conniving heart!

  When D.J. bent over me at the piano, earnest in his solicitude by rifling through the pages of the Christmas Music Book for Piano and Voices to locate the popular carol his father had requested, I paused with my fingers arched above the keys. With a sidelong glance, I speared him with the most virulent, lancing look I could summon.

  “Leave,” I hissed in sotto voce. He scrambled to his seat on the sofa, safely ensconced between Big Jim and his mother. The coward! Liz McKay patted first D.J.’s leg, then Big Jim’s. Her two favorite men were now in her firm control.

  Sara and I—and our needs—were merely an irritating afterthought.

  The music sheet ran red, splattered with blood as my Colt revolver fired and hit two marks—the selfish hearts of D.J. and the Dragon Lady.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman…left out of the loop!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eva turned the page of the photo album. Yes, there it was: the snapshot of her and D.J. sitting side by side on the piano bench. A momentary pause between playing and singing for the family a string of Christmas favorites. D.J. turned the pages and supplied the tenor harmony, meanwhile encouraging the others to join in. Matt had snapped it and given it to them later, in part as a reminder that at every family event, there were two layers of emotional reality. The surface one—bright smiles and holiday cheer—and the undercurrents, in this case Eva’s fury at D.J. over the ranch issue.

  A rueful smile tugged her mouth as she remembered the fallout.

  * * * *

  For the remainder of the evening, filled with Christmas carols and the family’s gift exchanging bonhomie, I gave my husband the cold shoulder. In bed later, I gave him a rigid, frosty back and the silent treatment.

  In spite of his snuggling up behind me, his hand caressing the flare of my hip. In spite of his pleading his case in soft whispers half the night. He tried to kiss his way back into my good graces. To no avail.

  Eva Villalobos McKay—I had to admit to myself, was one stubborn woman. Somewhere between his argument that now I’d have plenty of help and more time for the children and my career, and his assertion that Sara would make new friends at the Catholic school twenty minutes from the ranch, my stiff anger began to soften. Thirty minutes into his whispered pleas, my resolve began to crumble. I knew by morning, he’d wear me down and I’d give into him and his father’s plan. D.J. hushed up only after I agreed we’d talk about it the next day. Still, when he’d reached about to fondle me, I’d flung him off her with, “If you don’t want your fingers broken, you’d better stop!”

  The next morning I’d risen early, quietly pulled on a warm-up suit and sneakers, and fastened my hair into a haphazard ponytail. D.J. had worn himself out last night, pleading his case to my back, finally giving up on changing my mind….

  Good grief, I truly didn’t know which of the two of us was the most tenacious or mule-headed. If I hadn’t fallen asleep, worn out myself from the evening’s revelations and the strain of pre
tending everything was fine, I thought D.J. would’ve talked all night. Performing a three-hour opera was a cakewalk compared to an evening with the McKay family and all their crises and surprises.

  For a moment, I looked into Nanny Maria’s room and, contenting myself that both she and baby Jamie were still sleeping, I set off on one of my regimented jogs. The doctor who’d treated my postpartum depression had advised me to do a daily workout even if it was only thirty minutes on a treadmill or exercycle. In fact, the longer the workout, the better. A five-mile jog on the ranch would take me about sixty minutes—good enough, I concluded. With velcro, I’d attached a pedometer to one of my ankles which would keep track of my distance. Never again did I want to experience the kind of debilitating depression I’d suffered two months before. Whatever I had to do to prevent it from recurring, I’d do. And that included D.J. and his father’s plans to disrupt my life.

  The sky was overcast and gray and storm clouds were gathering on the northern horizon, maybe a cold front coming down from the mid West. Though weary from lack of sleep, I didn’t hesitate to take the graveled road behind the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the huge patio-pool and back lawn area. Past a stand of cypress, pines, redbuds and other hardwood trees, the road curved to the right in the direction of the stables and paddocks. Not skipping a beat, I picked up my pace and jogged steadily the half-mile distance from the mansion grounds to the horse barn, finally stopping at the first paddock to rest. I leaned against the wooden fencing and closed my eyes, panting.

  What was I going to do? Sure, I could see Big Jim’s and D.J.’s point of view. D.J. could cut back on performing and concentrate on working the ranch. It was D.J.’s choice, whether he wanted to continue singing or take a totally different path in life. My singing career wouldn’t be affected by HIS choices.

  Even though the ranch manager and foreman were doing a decent enough job, Big Jim thought the cash flow was drying up and the cattle end of the business was not as productive as it could be. Their expenses were increasing, according to D.J.’s argument last night, and they still needed all nine of their fulltime employees. There was the house staff of five, plus four ranch hands, including the foreman and manager. Seasonally, they added six or eight more, usually when the cows calved and auction time came around. One of the McKays needed to oversee the peak season.

  The house staff needed to be supervised, also, and Liz McKay wanted to spend more time in Austin, overseeing her charity and McKay Foundation work. The ranch was tying her down.

  This was HIS and JAMIE’s legacy, a legacy that went back over a hundred years. They had to do it for Big Jim. They had to let him rest easy knowing the Circle M would continue in competent hands. It was time D.J. used his bachelor’s degree in Agribusiness for something other than a wall hanging.

  He was getting tired of working in Europe, tired of the absences from me and the children, tired of the lonely nights in strange hotel rooms…I wondered about that. Was he trying to tell me he’d been tempted to stray from our marriage vows? Good lord, I knew his temptations must be driving him crazy. He was so good looking, could have any woman he wanted, and there were plenty of Euro trash groupies in the opera world to tempt a saint.

  D.J.’s arguments swirled around in my head as I stood leaning against the fence, bracing myself against a post with an outstretched arm. I needed to think!

  “Evie!”

  I looked up. Dammit to hell!

  D.J. halted in front of me, kicking up a little dust as he did. He was gasping for breath, his hair askew, looking like he’d thrown on his tee and sweat pants in a hurry. Sweat rings darkened his underarms and the waistband. His dark hair was plastered about his head in wet ringlets. I detected a tinge of fear in his eyes. Good, let him be afraid! For a while longer, anyway. Ultimately, I knew deep in my heart that I’d give in. How could I deny this man that I was still madly in love with?

  “You still not talking to me?” he challenged.

  “Dammit, D.J., leave me alone!” I hollered, pushing off the post and resuming my jog down the road. A few strides and he was right beside me, beginning to outpace me.

  “C’mon, you said last night we’d talk today,” he said between huffs and puffs, “I busted my butt to catch up with you, Evie. Now talk. Tell me what you think.”

  “Why bother? Hasn’t it already been decided, D.J.? The McKay men’ve already signed on the dotted line. Fait accompli. The price one pays to join this family.”

  “It matters to me what you think, Evie. I tried to tell you last night…in the bathroom…when we were…”

  “That’s the problem, D.J. You TELLING me, not ASKING me. We’re supposed to be a partnership, a legal partnership sanctified by the sacrament of matrimony. You’re not supposed to TELL me anything.”

  “Aw, that’s bullshit!”

  I shot him a venomous glance. “Obviously. And you know how to kick it around!”

  We continued jogging side by side further down the same road, passing the single-story ranch house where the foreman and the two single ranchhands lived. In calving season, they’d be joined by a crew of four to six, the overflow bunking in a travel trailer, which was parked behind the ranch house. The ranch manager, who mostly did the bookkeeping, lived off the ranch in town.

  By the hooded look on D.J.’s face, I knew how conflicted he was. Remorse cracked through his macho facade but I held firm. Fuming, I wouldn’t cooperate until he straight-out apologized.

  “Okay, okay, I was wrong,” he conceded finally, “I should’ve told Dad I had to check with you first. But honestly, Evie, he would’ve laughed in my face. ‘What, you have to consult with your wife over your kid’s multimillion-dollar inheritance? What, are you some pussy-whipped-and-hen-pecked husband that you have to ask permission of your wife before you and your son can inherit what’s rightfully yours?’” His impersonation of his father’s gruff baritone was credible, I thought, reluctantly amused. I restrained myself from smiling. “Don’t you see how ludicrous that would’ve been?”

  “Well, you could’ve at least given me a heads-up,” I insisted hotly.

  “You heard what Big Jim said that day in the hospital just after Jamie was born? The wheels were already turning, soon as he heard the baby was a boy. He’s been waiting for a grandson—to pass on the ranch to a McKay male. The way his daddy and grand-daddy wanted it done. What could I say? Sorry, old man, even though I’m qualified to do this for you and even might want to do it, I’m afraid I gotta pass up this chance to keep the ranch in the McKay family. Pass up a ten-million a year operation so Eva can be thirty-minutes away from her three-times a year opera gig.”

  “You make it sound like I’m volunteering my time,” I said defensively, “It’s MY career. I make five-thousand a performance— not exactly chickenfeed, D.J. And you know darn well my rehearsals and performances take up a great deal of my time. What am I going to do so far from Houston?”

  “You could sing in Japan for fifteen-thousand a performance. You’ve settled for regional opera when you could’ve had an international career. You’re good enough. Nate says so, too.”

  “So now you’re demeaning my accomplishments. Houston has one of the finest opera companies in this country, you know that. I feel honored and privileged to perform for them. Besides, I’ve sacrificed an international singing career for my family—”

  “Hey, you had your chance. I didn’t force you to choose Chicago over coming back to Europe with me. Didn’t force you to marry Fogel or have Sara right off-the-bat. You’ve made choices, Evie, not altogether smart ones either. So don’t pin your sacrifices on me like some Puccini martyr.”

  I stopped suddenly, startling D.J. into skidding to a halt on the gravel.

  “That’s a low blow, D.J. And yes, I was an idiot to marry David. It seemed like the safe thing to do at the time…but yes, it was stupid and I was scared. I’ll never regret having my daughter, though, no matter what. I love Sara, always will. Don’t you drag her into this—it’s not ab
out the past, D.J. It’s about our future!” I emphasized the word, future, sarcastically. “But you brought her up. So, where does Sara fit into this grand scheme of yours? She’s in school, loves her teacher and classmates, and loves the neighbors’ kids. Do I uproot her again when she already has to bounce back and forth between her father and me as it is? This isn’t fair to HER.”

  D.J. braced his hands on his hips and gazed down at the roadway, breathing heavily, blowing air out of his cheeks.

  “She’ll adjust, I suppose. That Catholic school in town is very good, from what I hear. She can go there, or you could drive her into Austin—”

  “That’s an hour’s drive, D.J.! Besides, you know David’s Jewish. He’d never allow her to attend a Catholic school.”

  “Okay, I understand that. Sarah goes to a public school or a nondenominational private one. You promised to raise OUR kids Catholic, Evie. Have you changed your mind on that, too?”

  I paced in a circle, kicking the gravel angrily. “No, of course, not. This has nothing to do with Jamie. He’s too young to know what’s going on. He’d probably love growing up on the ranch. I just don’t want Sara to be miserable. Or feel like she doesn’t belong, whatever school she goes to.”

  Steadying my gaze on D.J.’s downcast expression, I paused. I knew he loved Sara dearly but when it came to choosing between his son, Jamie, and Sara—if indeed, such a choice were necessary—D.J. would choose what was best for his son. Living on the Circle M and ensuring his son’s legacy and inheritance made the most sense to D.J. If D.J. didn’t move with Jamie to the ranch and thereby fulfill Big Jim’s wishes, he and his son would lose their inheritance. Liz McKay would sell the ranch after her husband was gone and that would be that. A hundred-plus-year legacy would be lost to the McKays. No, Eva knew there would be no changing D.J.’s mind on THAT issue. He’d been raised on the Circle M and despite his long absence, he loved the place. Felt a deep connection to it.