The Troubled Texan

by Phyliss Miranda

  She tried not to make something out of nothing but the lady did say she had a son.

  Returning with what tasted like fruit punch and an assortment of cookies, she set the small plate of refreshments along with the drinks on the table between them and then pulled her chair around to face the woman.

  “I told you my name, but I don’t know yours.” Rainey took the tissues out of the lady’s hand and asked, “Is it okay if I hold these for you so you can drink your punch?”

  The woman nodded. “Now, what is your name, young lady?”

  “Rainey Michaels, and what is yours?”

  “I need to drink this while it’s still cold. I like milk. Do you?”

  “Yes, I like milk. Particularly chocolate.” Rainey thought about the many times she and Marie Cowan had slipped out of the antiques store and purchased for each of them a pint of chocolate milk and drank their fill.

  “Oh, I don’t like chocolate but sometimes they’ll put the strawberry stuff, you know the stuff that makes the milk turn pink.” Her hands began to shake. “You know the stuff—”

  “Oh, strawberry syrup. Like the Hershey syrup,” said Rainey, feeling sorry for the woman who had become so upset over not being able to remember the word “syrup.” “I like strawberry, too. But let’s drink our punch. It’s pink like strawberry milk.” Her smile was met with one from the person sitting across from her.

  The two new friends enjoyed their refreshments in silence.

  “I don’t believe you told me your name but mine is Lydia Dunivan.”

  Rainey almost cried out when she heard the name and could barely say, “Donovan. D-O-N-O-V-A-N?”

  “Oh, no, it’s Lydia Dunivan. Dunivan. Like a divan. Dunivan.”

  “I see. How about me just calling you Lydia and you can call me Rainey.”

  “That’s a nice name. I like it.” Lydia reached in her pocket and got out some shreds of tissue. “If you need some of these I’ve got plenty more.” She extended her hand out to Rainey.

  “Thanks. That’s good to know.” She accepted the Kleenex pieces.

  “I like your necklace,” Lydia said touching her bare neckline.

  Rainey reached for the antique necklace she wore. “I do, too, but here.” She unhooked the piece of jewelry, then walked behind Lydia to put it around her neck. “I think we can share it. One day you can wear it and the next I will. Okay?”

  Lydia clutched the sterling silver and mother-of-pearl piece. “I’ll keep it safe.” She lowered her voice. “You know there are a lot of people here who you can’t trust. I had a very nice lady that came every day to see me, but she stole something very valuable from me and she doesn’t come anymore.” She stopped and thought for a long time. “And there’s a very nice young man who comes, but I have to watch him now because sometimes he takes my clothes. If he wasn’t such a nice young man I’d turn him in.”

  She extended her hand with another bunch of Kleenex. “You might need these. If you could come back tomorrow I’ll have more. I think I see my son coming so I’ve got to go right now.”

  “Lydia, I promise to come back tomorrow if I can. If not, I promise it’ll be soon. Real soon.” She took her hand and without thinking leaned down and gave her a hug. “Promise.”

  Rainey looked up and saw a short, middle-aged man wearing khaki walking shorts and a Hawaiian shirt walk through the door and head their way . . . and he was no Deuce Cowan.

  After finishing his business in Denton, Deuce drove as fast as the law allowed to make the four-hour trip back to the Kasota Springs Nursing Home and Rehab Center before the Mother’s Day festivities were over.

  He didn’t want to miss spending time with his mother on Mother’s Day, but wasn’t too disappointed that he missed the tea. It always aggravated him how some children rarely showed their faces around the facility but always managed to make a big deal out of special events, such as Mother’s Day. In his opinion, it was more important that he see his mother daily than to wait for a special day. He didn’t make it in to see her every day, but he missed very few.

  Deuce had been relieved when Rainey stopped asking questions about his mother. He didn’t mean to deceive Rainey but had to abide by the recommendations of the administrator by making sure his mother wasn’t upset. He knew since she loved Rainey like a daughter that her sudden appearance might confuse the elderly Cowan even more. Yet he couldn’t come right out and tell Rainey that he didn’t want her to see his mother either.

  Rainey was in a bad place of her own. Hopefully, once she received some professional help and with as much TLC as he could give her, he’d eventually be able to tell her about his mother’s condition. It’d be a happy day when he could come clean with Rainey and let her know the truth—even take her to see his mother—her old friend.

  Finding a parking place in the crowded lot in front of the nursing home, Deuce mentally scratched his head. Even in the shadows of late evening, he could swear he saw Rainey’s car leaving the parking lot out of the farthest exit south, but then if there was one, there were a hundred white Chevy Malibus in the area. Plus, being Mother’s Day, there’d be a lot of visitors coming into town.

  After being greeted by several workers, he saw his mother sitting in her favorite chair in the corner with two other women, nibbling on a cookie and sipping punch. He was pleased to see her looking so relaxed. Something he hadn’t seen for a long time.

  Elaine came up from behind and said, “She’s having a good day, sheriff.”

  “I was just watching her. She seems less agitated than I’ve seen her in a while.”

  “It could be nothing but her having a good day with a lot of people around, so please don’t get too encouraged that we won’t still have to move her. But I’m hoping we don’t, because she’s such a lovely patient.” She smiled up at him, then said, “I felt bad about Sylvie not being able to come back, but sometimes things occur between a volunteer and a patient that nobody can explain. That seems to be what happened. Sylvie was too upset to talk about it. I think her feelings were hurt more than anything. She hasn’t been back to volunteer since the day she walked out.”

  “Thanks for the update, Elaine. I’m encouraged but won’t read too much into Mother doing better.”

  “By the way, she decided on a new name today.”

  “And what’s it now?” Deuce couldn’t keep track of all the names she’d given herself.

  “Today she’s Lydia Dunivan.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Donovan, like my given name?”

  “No, Dunivan and she spells it out to make sure everybody knows exactly how it’s pronounced. Like divan, she tells them. Although, I have to admit she rarely spells it the same way. Tomorrow it will probably be something else but call her Lydia today, please. I’ve got to check on Mr. Chalmers. Enjoy your visit.” She touched Deuce on the arm and walked off towards Captain Chalmers and another man Deuce didn’t recognize.

  Deuce picked up a couple of cookies in a napkin and put them in his pocket, before he reached his mother.

  “Hi, Lydia,” he said, aching inside because he couldn’t call her “Mama.”

  She looked up with a smile and said to the other women, “I knew he’d come. When my son can’t make it, this young man always comes to see me. Isn’t he a nice man?”

  They all nodded and hustled away as if scared off by Deuce.

  “Let’s go to your room so we can visit before bedtime,” Deuce said.

  He helped her pull to a full stance and he slid her walker in front of her. “You’re such a nice man,” she said. Then she continued. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  As they walked down the B wing hallway on the way to B-16, she chatted away about how much she enjoyed the tea and about the nice lady who had sat and talked to her.

  “I think she was Mr. Chalmers’s wife, because she talked with him for a long time.”

  Deuce knew Captain Chalmers didn’t have a wife, but just walked behind his mother listening, trying to
keep up with her disjointed details of the day.

  When they reached her small two-room unit, he made sure she was comfortable in the overstuffed chair his father had always sat in when he was alive before Deuce settled in the blue wing back chair across from her.

  They shared the cookies he pulled from his pocket.

  She didn’t seem to want to get off the subject of the woman who visited her. “She was so nice. You would have liked her. She brought me punch and cookies, too, and stayed a long time. I think she’s Mr. Chalmers’s wife. Did I mention that?” She looked up at him with brown eyes identical to his.

  “Yes, ma’am, you did. What was her name?”

  Mrs. Cowan stopped and thought for a long time. “I think it was . . . yes, Mrs. Chalmers, I’m sure. She gave me this necklace.” She touched her new piece of jewelry. “She said she’d come back to see me tomorrow.”

  Deuce wondered about the woman and made a mental note to check with the administrator to see if she knew who had befriended his mother. He knew they were very careful about who came around the residents but, as a son, her welfare was his number-one priority.

  As late as it was, Elaine probably had already left for the day but he’d ask her the next time he saw her. He wanted to make certain the necklace was a gift, not some other resident’s piece of missing jewelry.

  “That’s lovely. Do you recall the lady’s name who gave it to you?” he asked for the second time, not really expecting an answer.

  She looked perplexed, then said, “Young man, I can’t remember every visitor’s name. Plus, I have a problem I need solving.”

  Patronizing her, he said, “I’ll try, but first I brought you something for Mother’s Day.” He retrieved the small jewelry box from his pocket and gave it to her.

  After she opened the gift, she admired the bracelet inside and told him how much she liked it, then said, “It’s this one that bothers me.” She touched the location bracelet they had put on her because of her wandering off. “Will you tell them to take this one off so I can wear the new one?”

  “I’ll ask but I’m not sure they will.” He smiled at her pleasure with his gift. “Why not wear both of them until I can find out.” Deuce got up and helped her slip the new, inexpensive gold-and-pearl bracelet on her wrist.

  “Young man, they will if you tell them to.” Determination echoed through the room. She softened her voice and said, “But what I want to talk to you about is that someone stole my football games where my son, Deuce . . .” She trailed off and looked up at him. “I’ve told you about him, haven’t I?”

  The question stabbed at his heart. “Yes, ma’am, you have.”

  “I thought he’d be here because it’s—it’s, well, it’s a special day but if he’s playing football he can’t come. That’s why I knew he’d be playing on television, but someone stole my football game.” She stopped to think a minute. “I know he would have been here if he could.” She stopped again before she continued. “You know, he has to play ball, so I watch him on TV.” She touched the bracelet Deuce had given her, then reached for a Kleenex, which she began shredding into little strips.

  Deuce could only watch her. The hurt deep inside became more than he thought he could endure. But every time he came, he always left feeling the same way . . . abandoned and helpless. If he could change places with her, he’d do it in a heartbeat, because he knew if he was the one living in a world only he knew, his mother would be the first to take his place.

  Suddenly, she said, “But I don’t think I’ve seen my son for a while.” She looked into his eyes and pleaded, “Would you see if you can find out why they took football off my TV? Without it, I can’t watch him play.” She shredded more tissues. “I think it was the Pink Lady who used to come see me who did it. She told them I didn’t need to watch so much football. I’m going to see if it was her.” She tried to get up and Deuce rushed to her side to help her.

  “Mama—I mean, Lydia, I’ll go right now and check with the administrator and see what they’re doing about it.” A knife twisted in his gut as he opened the door.

  “You’ll see that it was that Pink Lady because she stopped coming to visit me. But I trust you to do something about it because you’re such a nice young man. You remind me of my son, Deuce.” The faraway look crossed her face again. “Have I told you about him?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you did. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Well, where is it?” His mother’s stern eyes flashed.

  “It?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, young man. Don’t try to fool me.”

  “This.” Deuce pulled a Butterfinger out of his pocket and handed it to her knowing she didn’t know the name of the candy bar and likely couldn’t remember the word “candy.” Another ache attacked his heart.

  “Thank you, young man.”

  Although Deuce was prepared to help her back to her chair, she sat down without any trouble, opened the candy bar and took a healthy bite.

  “I’ll bring you another one tomorrow.”

  She set her candy aside, picked up a Kleenex, and began shredding it. “I gave the nice lady today some of my pieces I’m tearing apart to make a new quilt.” She looked up with haunting eyes. “I hope she takes care of them.”

  Deuce got into his pickup and tried to keep his focus on some of the great Mother’s Days he’d had with his mother, and he quickly found himself thinking that the good thoughts had to outweigh the bad ones. The last thing Rainey needed was for him to show up at the ranch upset. Also, not being able to spend the day with her own mother had probably saddened her on top of things.

  He’d told Rainey that he’d be late returning to the ranch so she wouldn’t be expecting him any time soon. He hoped she’d had a nice day with Sylvie, whatever they had ended up doing.

  Deuce walked into one of two bars in town, The Wagon Wheel, and ordered a Lone Star longneck and took a big swig. The county’s club-cab pickup was parked over at the sheriff’s department and he’d taken his personal F-150 pickup to Denton because his original plans were to go through some of his mother’s packed-up antiques to see if there were enough to help Rainey get started. To his surprise, there were more than he remembered, so he spent most of his time sorting them and then made arrangements for Bob to bring them, along with the fixtures from his store, the following day. It might be a good start, but she’d still have to find a regular supply for collecting the antiques. He suspected garage and estate sales in Amarillo would be her best sources.

  Although Rainey was heavy on his mind, his thoughts kept wandering back to his mother. It had been a particularly trying day, yet he felt a sense of encouragement seeing that she was less aggravated than usual.

  Maybe her feeling happier had something to do with the woman who had visited her. But who would have brought her a gift besides him? He hadn’t seen any wrapping paper or a gift bag. Regardless, the necklace came from a very caring and wonderful lady.

  Right or wrong, other than the employees of the nursing home, few people in Kasota Springs even knew his mother was a resident there. He wanted her protected and having anyone remind her of the death of her husband in the line of duty could mean a nasty setback for her. Deuce wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  In his book, the more fictional names she made up for herself, the better.

  After ordering another beer, he listened to the band The Wagon Masters play a song co-written by an Amarillo guy who grew up there in the sixties, Terry Stafford: “Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone,” the lead guitarist sang.

  Deuce smiled as he listened. Although the song wasn’t released until the seventies, no doubt Sylvie knew every word.

  Suddenly he missed Rainey and wanted to see her, hold her in his arms.

  Tossing down some cash to cover his tab and a generous tip, Deuce headed out the door.

  The ringing of his phone could barely be heard over the loud hum of the cicadas.

  The nursing home’s night nurse bega
n speaking almost before Deuce answered. “Sheriff Cowan, we have a problem with your mother. She says you know all about whatever is bothering her and won’t go to bed. It’s already way past bedtime, but she is just sitting in front of the TV saying that she will only talk to the nice young man who comes to visit when her son can’t. Of course, we know it’s you. Something about someone stealing her football.”

  “I know what she’s talking about. I’ll be there as soon as I can get out to the ranch and pick up a DVD player and some videos.” He shut his eyes and listened to the cicadas. “Tell her you’ve called me and I’m on the way, but I want her to go to bed until I can get there.”

  “Just knowing that you’re coming generally settles her down and she’ll go to bed. I knew you’d want to know what is going on with her, sir. By tomorrow, she’ll probably forget all about the TV problem.”

  Deuce stared into the night. “If she doesn’t settle down, call me immediately and I’ll be right over.”

  “Yes, sir. And good night,” the night nurse said before the phone went dead.

  Although Deuce didn’t expect to have a good night, he wanted to get back to the ranch . . . back to Rainey.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sunlight filtered through the curtains in Deuce’s bedroom and settled across Rainey’s face, making her come alive much like the morning sun. She rolled over expecting to find Deuce but he wasn’t there . . . not any longer, but she knew he’d come in and remembered nestling against him during the night. She touched her lips, definitely recalling the good night kiss he had given her after settling in bed. It must have been late because she barely woke long enough to return his kiss and say good night.

  Feeling more rejuvenated than she had in weeks—no, more like months—she was eager to begin a new week.

  Eager to tell Deuce about her visit to the nursing home and the people she met.

  Eager to hear about his Sunday.

  She sighed. Most likely he’d spent yesterday in Amarillo dealing with the case he’d only mentioned in passing: trafficking small bags of methamphetamine tablets known on the streets as “bags of ice.” She suspected he’d mentioned it because it would have been a no-brainer that she had prosecuted a zillion cases of meth coming into California from Mexico.