Texas Born

by Gould, Judith

  'Well?' Jenny asked finally. She disengaged her hands from Elender's. 'Isn't somebody going to congratulate me?' She turned to Elizabeth-Anne, unable to keep the triumph off her face.

  Elizabeth-Anne stared at her, her hands in her apron pockets. 'What's the occasion?'

  Jenny smiled crookedly. 'I'm getting married.'

  'You're—' Elender swallowed and looked at her queerly. 'But . . . but this is so sudden!' she sputtered. 'So . . . so out of the blue!'

  'Aren't you happy for me?' Jenny asked, her voice suddenly bitter.

  'Why, yes, of course I'm happy,' Elender said quickly. She wrung her hands in agitation. 'Who . . . who is the lucky man?'

  A triumphant gleam glinted in Jenny's eyes. 'I'll give you three guesses.'

  'It's Tex Sexton, isn't it?' Elizabeth-Anne asked softly.

  The triumph in Jenny's eyes faded instantly. 'How did you guess?' she demanded, and then laughed. 'Of course! How stupid of me! Your husband would have told you I was seeing Tex.'

  Elender stared at Jenny. 'But . . . but you don't know him, do you? I mean, how did you meet him? I didn't even know you . . .' She turned to Elizabeth-Anne. 'What did Zaccheus tell you?'

  'Only that Jenny and Mr. Sexton were seeing quite a lot of each other. That's all.'

  Elender's face was set in a wounded expression. 'And you didn't tell me? Neither of you?'

  Elizabeth-Anne bit down on her lip. What could she have told Auntie? That Jenny was spending a lot of time out at the Sexton ranch? She wasn't Jenny's baby-sitter. If Jenny was carrying on an affair with Tex Sexton, it was no business of hers. Jenny was certainly old enough to lead her own life—without supervision.

  Jenny raised her chin. 'We're getting married immediately. Tex wanted to wait and throw a big wedding here with all the trimmings, but we talked it over and decided to leave for Dallas in the morning instead. It'll be a very quiet ceremony, just the two of us and a witness, otherwise we would have invited you.'

  Elender was stunned. 'In the morning?' she asked. 'Tomorrow morning?'

  Jenny nodded. 'We'll get married there and stay on a few days. I'll need to pack a few things, but not much. Tex is going to buy me a whole new wardrobe.' She sighed happily. 'Oh, and I'll need my birth certificate, Auntie.'

  'You need your . . .' Elender looked suddenly stricken.

  'What's the matter? You do have it, don't you?'

  'I . . . uh . . . yes . . . of course.'

  'Well, don't be so damned mysterious about it!' Jenny snapped. 'Get it!'

  Elender nodded, her face suddenly ashen. So the time had finally come that Jenny would find out that she was her daughter—not her niece. She had always known that Jenny would eventually have to know, but she had hoped she would have time to prepare her for it. But the opportunity had not arisen. Jenny had never given her the chance: she had always been so wild, so sour, so bitter.

  Elender's mind swirled, turning back the years to those horrible nights in the big house on Beacon Hill in Boston so long, long ago. As year after year had passed, and she had built a new life for herself and Jenny, she had shoved those bleak memories aside.

  Now the past had finally caught up with her.

  O Lord, Elender prayed, help Jenny understand that the indiscretion wasn't my fault entirely. I was a foolish young chambermaid with nowhere else to go and nothing to my name but guilt and shame. Times were different back then. I had no money. I had nothing. Not even my pride. All I did was listen to my employer's son and do as he demanded. Can I be faulted for that?

  Yes, you can, and should, her relentless conscience replied with agonizing candor.

  'Wait here while I go get it,' Elender said stiffly.

  Jenny nodded and watched, mystified, as she left the parlor and went down the hall to her bedroom. She looked at Elizabeth-Anne. 'I don't know what the big secret is. Do you?'

  Elizabeth-Anne shook her head. She didn't know what was wrong either, but something had shaken Elender terribly. She looked like a ghost.

  After a few minutes, Jenny folded her arms and tapped her elbows with her index fingers. 'I don't know what's keeping her so long. I haven't got all day.'

  After a while Elender returned, envelope in hand. She walked with that peculiar kind of dignity which Elizabeth-Anne realized she adopted whenever she needed armor.

  'Sit down, Jenny darting, please,' Elender said in a quivering voice. 'I think we need to have a long- overdue talk.'

  Jenny stared at her. 'What about?'

  'The birth certificate. Our past.'

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. 'Our past? What are you talking about?'

  'It's a long story,' Elender said wearily. 'Please, just hear me out.'

  'I don't have the time.' Jenny fished the envelope out from between her fingers and Elender let out a strangled cry.

  'Please listen, Jenny. Please!' she implored desperately. 'I don't care if you never listen to me again for as long as I live. Just listen to me now, before you look at that certificate!'

  But Jenny was already sliding the certificate out of the envelope. The paper was folded, and was old, creased, and yellowed, worn almost transparently thin, as if it had been handled a lot.

  Jenny suddenly let out a keening howl and slapped the paper against her thigh. 'You bitch!' Jenny screamed. 'Oh, you fucking bitch!'

  Elizabeth-Anne gasped. 'Jenny! You can't use language like that! Not with Auntie!'

  Jenny whirled at Elizabeth-Anne, her eyes wet with tears, yet blazing with a hellish fury. 'Oh, I can't, can't I?' Hands on her hips, she looked Elizabeth-Anne up and down. 'Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot call that lying two-faced bitch?' She thrust the birth certificate at Elizabeth-Anne. 'Here! See for yourself!''

  Her hands trembling, Elizabeth-Anne took the paper and read it, her eyes flaring in disbelief.

  'Jenny, please,' Elender whispered hoarsely. 'Jenny, darling—'

  'Just listen to yourself!' Jenny spat. ' "Jenny darling," 'she mimicked, rocking her head from left to right. She howled with hysterical laughter. 'Oh, this is precious! My own mother treating me like a niece for all these years!' She threw her hands up in the air and stalked about the parlor, muttering curses under her breath. 'My own fucking mother! My mother!'

  'Jenny,' Elender begged. She looked as though she had suddenly aged twenty years. 'Jenny . . .'

  'I'm leaving,' Jenny said suddenly. 'Do you hear me? I'm leaving for good. And I'll never come back! Ever! I never want to see you again for as long as I live!' Then she violently jerked the birth certificate from Elizabeth-Anne's hand.

  'Jenny, please,' Elender pleaded. 'You're my daughter. Don't treat me like this! You're breaking my heart!' She reached up to touch Jenny's cheek beseechingly, but Jenny recoiled. 'Jenny, you're my daughter!' Auntie appealed in a strained voice. 'Don't turn away from me!'

  'Then why, pray tell, wasn't I your daughter all these goddamn years? Why did you lead me to believe that my mother was dead and that you were taking care of me out of the goodness of your heart?'

  'It was the times, Jenny. A woman alone—'

  'Damn, damn, damn!' Jenny pounded her head with her clenched fists. 'Will you just leave me alone?'

  'You can't mean you won't ever come back, Jenny,' Auntie cried softly. 'You'll visit with me. You'll bring your husband and your children—'

  'Like hell I will! I never want to see you again. Do I make myself perfectly clear? I don't want anything from you. Not your stinking love, nor your filthy lies. Nothing. And I don't want to inherit a goddamn thing of yours once you're dead, which for me can't be soon enough!'

  'Jenny!' Elizabeth-Anne cried. 'Oh, my God, Jenny! You can't mean that! Tell her you don't mean it!'

  'Don't you "Jenny" me, you freak!' Jenny whirled from Elender to Elizabeth-Anne.

  'You're upset, darling, and that's understandable,' Elender said in a civil, desperately soothing tone. 'Why don't you sleep on it? Maybe you'll feel differently tomorrow. We'll talk some more when you come—'

/>   Jenny laughed. 'You're right about one thing. I am upset. But I'm not about to sleep on anything. You don't need me. You never even wanted me! This proves it. You've got the daughter of your choice, anyway. Here! Hold her! Hug her! Kiss her!' With that, Jenny grabbed Elizabeth-Anne by the arm and, with the strength of a madwoman, flung her across the room, straight into Elender's arms.

  'Just remember,' Jenny warned from the door, 'don't try to come and see me. Because if you're foolish enough to try, I'll have you shot! For trespassing!' And with that she tossed her head and stomped out, slamming the door with such force that the walls shook and a picture came crashing down.

  Elender clutched Elizabeth-Anne tightly and stared up into her face. 'She can't mean it!' she whispered. 'She can't!'

  'Of course she doesn't!' Elizabeth-Anne humored her softly. 'Of course she doesn't,' she repeated with her lips, but as she stared out at the room over Elender's head, her eyes said differently.

  'She'll make up with me,' Elender sobbed. She swallowed painfully and nodded emphatically. 'You'll see. She was just angry, that's all.'

  'Yes,' Elizabeth-Anne whispered, hugging her tightly. 'She was only angry. She'll come around, Auntie.'

  'Yes, she will.'

  But Jenny didn't come around. Nor was she above rubbing salt into wounds. When she gave birth to her firstborn, the heir to the Sexton fortune, she made sure the news was plastered all over the front page of the Quebeck Weekly Gazette—which wasn't at all difficult to arrange, since Tex owned the newspaper.

  Elender bought several copies of that issue and read each word religiously until she could quote the article by heart. Carefully she cut her grandson's picture out of two of the copies and framed them. She placed one on the nightstand in her bedroom and hung the other one up in the kitchen of the café. Then she purchased a present, dressed with extreme care, and rode out to the Sexton ranch.

  She was turned away, but when she returned to town, she told everyone what a lovely child Jenny had, and how much he adored her. The next day she rode out again, and once again she was turned away. The longer she did not see him, the more she embellished the tales of the boy's activities. Every day for five straight weeks she rode out to see him, and each time she was turned away.

  When Elender died at the end of that five weeks, only Elizabeth-Anne knew that it was of a broken heart.

  13

  It was high noon, and the cortege made its slow way north up Main Street and out past the cotton fields to the cemetery beyond. Elizabeth-Anne looked down at Charlotte-Anne and smiled bravely.

  The child felt her gaze and looked up, her large blue eyes wide with confusion. Charlotte-Anne was only five and did not fully understand what was happening, and she was tired. Her legs were aching from the long, deliberately slow walk, but her mother was holding her hand tightly, so she couldn't lag behind. Regina was on Elizabeth-Anne's right, holding on to her other hand. Rebecca was dozing quietly in Zaccheus' arms.

  They all wore black, and Charlotte-Anne didn't like that. In fact, she had cried unrelentingly when her mother had made her put on this dress. She hated its somber, colorless gloom. She wished her mother had let her wear her bright blue dress instead. Everybody said it matched her eyes.

  Main Street was very quiet today, and she noticed that whenever they passed people, men would come to a halt, take off their hats, and hold them solemnly over their hearts. She twisted around and looked back over her shoulder. A few paces behind her walked the mayor and the sheriff. They were also dressed in black. And behind them she could see more townsfolk. It seemed that almost everyone had turned out for the occasion.

  Charlotte-Anne faced front again. Just a few yards ahead of her was the car. It was a resplendent black car, with big velvet-curtained windows all around. She could look in through the rear window and see the black polished coffin. Her mother had said that Auntie was sleeping inside it, but Charlotte-Anne couldn't see how she could be comfortable. The box looked awfully narrow.

  She turned sideways, looked up at Elizabeth-Anne, and gave her hand a shake. 'Auntie should have a bigger bed,' she announced in a clear, distinct voice. 'How can she sleep comfortably in a little one like that?'

  Elizabeth-Anne's step faltered. Then she turned slowly and stared down at Charlotte-Anne. 'Your Auntie is comfortable,' she said in a thick voice.

  'You're sure?'

  Elizabeth-Anne nodded and gave her daughter's hand a reassuring squeeze. 'I'm sure,' she said gently, but looked quickly away. She felt that at any moment she would give in to the tears that threatened to choke her insides.

  Charlotte-Anne craned her neck sideways. They were approaching the edge of the fields. Ahead was the cemetery with its crooked gravestones and crosses sticking up out of the ground. She gave her mother's hand another shake. 'Mama?'

  Elizabeth-Anne looked down at her.

  'D'ya think I can come and visit Auntie every day? Maybe even sleep with her inside her bed?'

  Elizabeth-Anne's wet eyes were warm with sympathy. It was a moment before she could trust herself to speak. 'Do you think it's nice to wake someone up when they're asleep?'

  Charlotte-Anne frowned thoughtfully for a moment. She hadn't thought of that. 'Noooo,' she said finally. 'I don't think that's very nice. I hate to be woked up.'

  Elizabeth-Anne smiled gratefully. 'You're a very nice young lady, Charlotte-Anne,' she said proudly. 'It isn't everyone who understands that.'

  For a moment Charlotte-Anne was warmed by the compliment. She had given the right answer.

  But later, as Auntie's box was lowered into the ground and the earth was being dumped in on top of it, she felt a sudden terror and buried her face in her mother's skirt. She was afraid to look, but she could hear the clumps of dirt pounding down against the top of the box. There was something terribly final about the sound. Then time itself seemed to stand still as a bloodcurdling wail, the likes of which she'd never heard, drowned out all other sounds.

  Charlotte-Anne peered timidly from around her mother's skirt. Rosa, the cook, had collapsed in a gigantic heap at the edge of the grave and was screaming, 'Santa Maria! Santa Maria!' Her moon face glistened with a mixture of sweat and tears, and her breasts rose and fell as she beat herself with her fists. Finally, her energies exhausted, Rosa's litany of despair settled into a pitiful drone.

  Elizabeth-Anne pulled her daughter closer to her in a vain effort to shield her from Rosa's grief. But Charlotte-Anne's terror was only reinforced. She had never seen Rosa like this. Rosa was strong and brave and not afraid of anything. Maybe she was upset because Auntie had to sleep under the ground in such a narrow box. Then she remembered something that had happened a few weeks ago.

  She had taken a little duck carved out of soap and buried it in the yard outside the cottage so no one could find it but her. A few days later she wanted to play with it, but she'd forgotten exactly where she'd buried it, and she'd dug desperately for two days. But she never did find it.

  And now Auntie was going to disappear just like her duck.

  They walked home slowly, leaving Auntie at the place with all the crosses, and for a long time the terror wouldn't leave Charlotte-Anne. And then things got even more confusing, because her mother suddenly noticed a long, shiny car parked some distance away. It was the biggest car she had ever seen, with a mirrorlike finish and white-walled tires with shiny chrome spokes. There was even another tire between the fender and the running board.

  Her mother looked at her father.

  'How dare she!' Elizabeth-Anne exploded quietly, her face red with blotches of rage. 'First she killed her, and now she's come to gloat over her burial. But she couldn't come to the funeral, could she?'

  And her father put his arms around her mother and said firmly, 'Don't be upset. Eventually she'll get what she deserves!'

  Charlotte-Anne tugged at her mother's hand for one last time. 'What are you talking about?' she asked in her clear, tiny voice.

  'Nothing, darling,' Elizabeth-Anne said huskily. 'No
thing. Only grown-up talk.'

  But it wasn't nothing, and Charlotte-Anne knew it. Why else would her mother turn around and stare back over her shoulder at the big new car with such loathing?

  Inside the car, Jenny, staring silently out through the windshield, watched the funeral come to an end. 'That's it,' she said aloud.

  Tex leaned forward. He grasped hold of the steering wheel, eased off on the clutch, and pressed gently down on the accelerator. As the big car began to roll smoothly forward, Jenny saw Elizabeth-Anne turning to Zaccheus, who was saying something, and then Elizabeth-Anne twisted around again, staring malevolently back at the car.

  Jenny smiled tightly. Even from this distance she could tell that Elizabeth-Anne was angry—and a wild, violent satisfaction surged through her, a mad kind of joy. She felt truly happy for the first time in weeks. She sensed that the opening salvo of a battle which would last a long time had been fired, and that made her feel good.

  'Let's go home,' she said to Tex. 'I've seen enough.'

  Tex nodded but did not speak. For a while they drove in silence. Jenny rested her elbow on the leather armrest and her chin on her fist. She stared out the window and watched the fields and groves gliding slowly past. She was grateful for Tex's silence. Somehow he always seemed to know when to speak and when to remain silent. It was one of the things she liked about him. They understood each other.

  It was she who finally broke the silence. 'Tex?' she said.

  He turned to her.

  She reached out to him with her left hand and traced her fingertips lightly down his thigh. 'Remember,' she reminded him, 'when you asked me what I wanted as a gift for giving birth to Ross?'

  He nodded and turned toward the road again. 'I remember.'

  'You told me I could have anything I wanted, and I told you I would think about it.' She took a deep breath. 'Well, I have. I know what I want.'

  'And?' He licked his lips and forced himself to concentrate on the driving. He felt both a relaxed contentment and the beginnings of an immense excitement tingling inside him as her fingers cleverly explored his crotch.