by Anna Jeffrey
Pic came out of the house and helped him. “What came over Mom?” he asked.
“Your guess is good as mine,” Drake said. “But something’s going on with those two.”
Pic laughed. “Well, Merry Christmas.”
Drake’s parents spent the next three days moon-eyeing and hand-holding. Dad was at Mom’s elbow constantly. Drake caught Mom blowing air kisses to Dad once. She was occupying one of the guest bedrooms, but Drake wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was sneaking into Dad’s bedroom at night. There had been a time when his parents had had a sexy relationship. As teenagers, he and Pic had made jokes about it between themselves.
****
The days preceding Christmas were sunny, balmy and pleasant. Drake, his dad and his brothers had hunted, he had ridden the pastures with Pic and he’d had a productive meeting with Kate that was less emotional than the last time he saw her. He had even had coffee with Blake Rafferty and learned a little more about the arson investigation.
Christmas morning came and Drake awoke to delicious aromas, a replay of his childhood and one of the reasons he loved coming to the ranch for the holidays. He rose early and met the family in the kitchen. With the holiday meal to be served in the early afternoon after the gift exchange, Johnnie Sue and Mom made him, Pic and Dad a light breakfast. Afterwards, Pic went to town to pick up Mandy and their grandmother at the retirement center where she lived. Drake hadn’t seen this much good will in the family since before Mom left seven years ago. He felt upbeat.
Troy soon showed up, bringing a bottle of bourbon and a huge basket of meats and cheeses, which Johnnie Sue took off his hands. Drake hadn’t seen him except on the back of a horse since Thanksgiving. Pic had already said that Troy and his horse came in second in the futurity finals.
Drake and he man-hugged. “Congratulations. I saw your performance early in the competition. Impressive. How long did you work with that horse?”
“Not that long. Few months maybe. Somebody else had her before the owner brought her to me. She’s a helluva horse. Smart. She’s got cow, for sure.”
A punch bowl filled with bourbon-spiked eggnog sat in the center of a long buffet in one end of the dining room. Troy spotted it. “Is that Mom’s eggnog? Nobody makes better eggnog than she does.”
He walked over and helped himself to a cup, then plucked the bottle of Makers Mark out of the basket he had brought. He brought a second cup of eggnog back to where Drake stood and handed it to him. “Let’s have a Merry Christmas toddy, Brother.” He started for the den, carrying his cup and the bottle of whiskey.
Drake followed him into the den. “Pic said you were only a couple of points behind the winner.”
“Yep. Shit happens, don’t it?” Troy carried the bottle of whiskey to the bar and opened it, then poured a dollop in both his and Drake’s cup.
“Too bad,” Drake said. “Still, even with coming in second, her foals will bring a pretty penny.”
“Oh, yeah. A hundred and a half easy. She’s as good as the horse that won. Next time, she might be the winner. It was that close. Owner’s a nice guy, too. He’s a car dealer in Kansas City.”
“I hated to miss the finals,” Drake said, “but I had to go to Lubbock.”
“How’d it look out there?”
“Not bad. They’re drilling again.”
Troy’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “I wasn’t talking about oil well, smartass. I was talking about the windmills”
Drake chuckled. “Well the wind’s still blowing if that’s your question. I’m going back the end of January. Listen, have you had a chance to spend any time with Kate?
He nodded. “She’s doing okay. Considering. She’s back to working with the horses, which I think is the best thing for her.”
Drake nodded, too. “She’s tougher than I thought she was.”
“We just need to find the fucker who lit up that barn,” Troy said. “I’d like to get a piece of the son of a bitch.”
Drake didn’t doubt Troy’s ability to settle scores. He was slightly smaller than he and Pic, but he was a mass of solid muscle. Besides spending his days horseback, he also jogged and worked out. Years back he had moved into one of the ranch hand’s houses a few miles away from the main house and he had set up a room as a gym.
“Blake Rafferty’s on top of it,” Drake said. “No need for any of us to get personally involved.
They heard commotion back in the living room and returned. The woman Johnnie Sue had hired to help with the meal had arrived, followed by Will Harrington and Kate. Kate no longer
wore bandages, but other evidence of her ordeal was still present.
Soon Pic came with their grandmother and Mandy, who obviously adored Pic. Mandy, brunette with deep brown eyes, was even prettier than she had been in high school. Drake suspected she was his brother’s refuge when life at the Double-Barrel became more than he could stand. Drake found himself envying the intimacy obvious between her and Pic—the tender touches, the smiling glances, how they behaved like two peas in a pod.
And he couldn’t keep from thinking of Shannon.
Dumb thinking, he told himself. Pic and Mandy had known each other since they were kids and had history together, though not always smooth. Drake had seen Shannon three times. Yet, he felt as if he had known her forever and wondered if she would enjoy this family gathering. Times like this reminded him of the importance of family. Meeting a woman to whom he felt connected, seeing his mom and dad working on reconciliation had made him sentimental in a way he had not expected. Perhaps he was merely being affected by the season of peace and joy, but for the first time in his life, he felt a strong urge to have a family of his own.
Kate was making a valiant effort, going through the motions enjoying the holiday, but Drake knew her heart would be a long time healing. As much as he had ever wanted anything, he wanted the insurance investigators and the Rangers to hurry up and find the bastard who had destroyed her barn and left a scar on her life.
The women, except for Kate, eventually gravitated to the kitchen, which amused Drake. His kid sister was beautiful, talented and smart in many ways, but she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body. She gathered everyone who wasn’t occupied with meal preparation around the Christmas tree in the living room for Karaoke Christmas carols.
And caroling around the Christmas was where they were when the doorbell chimed. Troy left the group and answered the door. The next thing Drake knew, Mona Luck was standing in the living room doorway, wrapped in a fuzzy coat, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand. “Bill, baby! I brought you a Christmas present!”
Drake’s stomach did a somersault. He started for Mona, at the same time motioning for Troy to get to the kitchen and stop their mother from coming into the living room. Mona was at Dad’s side before Drake could reach her. Obviously drunk, she fit her body against Dad’s, slid her arms around his midsection, stood on her tiptoes and planted a big one on his lips, leaving a huge red smear. “I just want you to know I ain’t mad at you, baby. You can sleep it off in my bed anytime. Any ol’ time you want to. We had fun, huh?”
Dad looked sheepish and confused. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Mona.” He patted her back, then peeled her off his side and set her at arm’s length. “Uh, honey, you need to go home now.”
“But I ain’t got nobody at home, Bill. It’s Christmas and I’m all by myself. Wanna come home with me? I’ll give you a real special Christmas present.”
A loud crash came from the dining room doorway. All eyes swung in that direction. Mom stood there, bug-eyed, shards of a broken dish and a puddle of liquid on the floor at her feet.
“Hey, Miz Lockhart,” Mona said, lifting the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in Mom’s direction. “Merry Christmas.”
Mom’s round-eyed gaze swung to Dad. “You bastard!” she screeched. “You good-for-nothing, lying, cheating bastard!” She charged through the living room headed for the bedrooms, tearing off a white frilly apron as she went.
Dad shot off behind her, po
inting a finger at her back. “Don’t you dare say a damn word to me! You never said you were gonna show up. You kept dragging it out. I never know what the
hell you’re doing. You expect me to read your goddamn mind? How the hell did I know Mona was gonna come out here?”
Pic, who was nearer to Mona than anyone else in the room, spoke up, taking Mona’s arm. “Miz Luck, you’ve had an awful lot to drink. Let me take you back to town.”
She yanked her arm away, teetering on her spike heels. “No!” Her mouth horseshoed into a scowl. “I’m not ready to go back to town.”
Troy quickstepped to her side and caught her around the waist to keep her from falling sideways.
“Bill Junior invited me for Christmas dinner,” she whined.
Mandy stood calmly, her hand wrapped around a cup of eggnog. A Lockhart family fight was nothing new to her.
Loud voices and thumps erupted from the bedroom area. Mere minutes later, Mom marched back into the living room, pulling her wheeled suitcase, articles of clothing partially hanging out of the zipper opening. She stopped in front of Drake. “Take me home. Take me home this instant. I want to leave this”—she raised a clenched fist and shook it—“this den of iniquity.”
Before anyone could reply, Dad stamped back into the living room, pressing a handkerchief against his forehead. Everyone in the room stared at him.
“Wait a minute! Just a goddamn minute, Betty.”
Mom spun around to face him, her hot brown eyes roasting him. “Don’t you cuss at me, Bill Junior. And don’t you tell me to wait a minute. You know what you can do with all your talk about making up and putting our marriage back together? You can stick it up your ass. I have lived with this… with this…with you…”
Oh, God. Now Mom was sputtering and that was a bad sign. Drake knew from experience. He had to get her out of here. He lifted her suitcase onto the sofa seat, unzipped it and began gathering and piling her loose-hanging clothing into it.
On a growl, she turned back to Drake. “Take me home. Now.”
“You are home,” Dad roared, lowering his handkerchief. An egg-sized red lump showed at his hairline and the red lipstick smear still marked his mouth “Drake, you stay where you are! You’re not taking her anywhere!”
“Go to hell, Bill,” Mom shouted. “My home is in Fort Worth!” She turned back to Drake. “Son, take me home.”
Drake now had Mom’s overstuffed suitcase re-packed and was struggling to close the zipper. “Okay, Mom, okay. Just give me a minute.”
“Betty’s going home?” Drake’s ninety-year-old grandmother asked from the other end of the sofa, her rheumy eyes huge behind her thick glasses lenses.
Mandy rushed to sit beside her, picking up her hand and patting it.
Kate came over to him, tears in her eyes. “You’re going back to Fort Worth, Drake?”
“Kate, honey, I’ve—”
“TAKE! ME! HOME!” Mom’s voice came out a shriek from a red mask of rage. “Son, if you do not take me home this very minute, I’ll cut my wrists!” She turned in a circle, her hands raised in the air, her fingers rigid and splayed wide. “Just give me a knife! A pair of scissors! A nail file!”
“All right, goddammit,” Dad bellowed. “Take her ass home if that’s what she wants.”
Kate began to sob, dropped to the sofa beside Mandy and buried her face in her palms. Mandy looped an arm around her shoulder. “Now, now, Kate. Don’t be upset.”
Pic threw up his hands. “This is the shits. The drizzling shits.” He stepped in front of their mother, in her face, staring down at her. “Where do you get off, coming down here and acting like you’re so goddamn good when we all know you’ve got a boyfriend up in Fort Worth?”
“Betty’s got a boyfriend in Fort Worth?” their grandmother parroted.
“No, Mrs. Lockhart,” Mandy told her. “He said Betty has a lot of friends in Fort Worth.”
Pic raved on at Mom. “You think I don’t know you’re sneaking into Dad’s bed at night, making him think you care about him? My room’s just up the hall. You think I’m deaf? You think I don’t hear all that shit going on in his bed? Y’all are worse than wild horses.”
Mom moved against him, punching his chest with her finger, forcing him to step backward. “I am your mother. I bore the pain that gave you life. Don’t you dare disrespect me. You’ve never supported me. You’ve always taken your father’s side.”
Pic had backed up under Mom’s attack, but Drake could see his brother was ready to explode. “C’mon, Mom,” Drake said. “Don’t drag Pic into your fight with Dad.”
“Stay outta this,” Dad yelled at Pic. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Pic turned on Dad, eye-to-eye and stabbing the air with his finger. “You and Mom have royally fucked up Christmas for everybody. Neither one of you ever considers a goddamn soul but yourself. You know what I think of the whole friggin’ circus? I’ll show you what I think.”
An elaborate Christmas tree larger than the one in the den filled a corner of the living room to one side of the fireplace. Before anyone could move, Pic strode to the tree, shoved his hammy hands among the branches and grasped the trunk. He picked it up in a mighty lift and stomped to the front door. Electric cords, lights, tinsel and assorted ornaments trailed behind him.
Drake grabbed at his brother’s arm. “Pic, stop…”
Pic swept the door open and with one great heave, shot the tree into the yard as if it were a javelin. It landed on its top, then fell over with a whoosh and a chorus of tinkles. Like a vanquished warrior, the angel tree topper rolled off to the side in the beige grass. A breeze picked up tinsel and icicles and carried them toward the barn.
Pic yanked the door back against the wall, slammed it with a crash! and turned to the speechless room. “There, goddammit! Christmas is over!”
****
Mom cried and cussed all the way from the Double-Barrel to Camden. Drake said not a word. His stomach was tighter than a bloated horse’s cinch. As they approached Camden, Drake didn’t even look up at Shannon’s picture on the billboard.
Finally, on the last leg of the trip, from Camden to Fort Worth, Mom began to get control of herself. “Let this be a lesson, Son, about what happens when a spouse or a lover or a special person in your life becomes an obsession. I lived in your father’s shadow from the day we married and spent most of my time trying to live up to his style and standards. I was obsessed with him for over thirty years and it was a very unhappy situation. I think they call it co-dependency.”
Drake’s memory spiraled backward. He had taken psychology in college. He must have studied co-dependency, but at the moment, nothing solid registered.
“Now that I’m away from the ranch,” she said, “I’m finally getting over those years and learning to live with his absence from my life.” She blew her nose and coughed and cleared her throat. “Unfortunately,” she muttered sourly, “the jackass still has the power to talk me into just damn near anything, even things that are out of character for me.”
And from out of the blue, Shannon Piper popped into Drake’s thoughts and the realization
that she had driven him to behave in an uncharacteristic way. Each get-together he’d had with her had been more bizarre than the last. Her failing to show up at Stone Mountain Lodge had driven him to get stinking drunk in the bar. When she was half an hour late arriving at his condo, Tuesday night, he had felt like a jealous fool and barely stopped short of interrogating her. He had walked to the jewelry store near his office and spent five hundred dollars on a pen for her when he hardly knew her. She might have already hocked it. And when she had scolded him about not wasting food, he had piled most of the contents of his refrigerator into a damn sack and hauled to the Double-Barrel.
Was Shannon Piper becoming his obsession? His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He made a vow that no woman would ever have control over him or manipulate him the way he had seen his mother maneuver his dad.
Drake’s jaw clenched. The knot in his gut might not un-kink until spring. “Jesus Christ, Mom. You’re thinking about a cruise with your boyfriend after you and Dad upset the whole family and trashed Christmas?”
“I should’ve never believed your father. I should’ve remembered what a lying, cheating philanderer he is. And he’ll never be anything else.”
Drake couldn’t keep from remembering a few things himself, like the morning he and Pic had hauled Dad out of Mona Luck’s house and the shape he was in, and snippets of Pic’s words: …waltzes him around…telling him she’ll come back, then not doing it…tells him she loves him… keeps living up there in Fort Worth…hanging out with her friends…
“Mom, give it a rest,” Drake said. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He soon pulled into her driveway. “Come inside,” she said. “I’ll make something to eat.”
He killed the engine and turned to her. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, Mom, but why don’t you and Dad just get a divorce and be done with it? What you’re doing is unfair to everybody. And it keeps the family torn up all the time.”
Her head slowly shook. “I’ll never divorce your father, Drake. And he’ll never divorce me. Neither he nor I can afford it. For that matter, you children can’t afford for us to divorce, either. You know better than anyone how complicated the Lockhart family finances are. What Bill Junior and I have to do is learn to live without contacting each other. He needs to stay out of my life and I certainly need to stay out of his.”
“But he’s not in your life. Not much anyway.”
She didn’t reply, just turned her head to the right and looked out the window.
Drake had always suspected his parents saw more of each other than he and his siblings knew. He leaned forward, seeking eye contact. “Is he? Is he in your life? Is something going on that I don’t know about?”
After a pause, she looked back at him, her gaze direct and daring. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth about myself and about him. Sex was always a big part of our lives. Your father has a powerful libido. I was naïve. I excused his cheating for years by telling myself that one woman simply wasn’t enough for such a sexy man.”