The air conditioner clicked on and cold air flowed down on top of her from the ceiling vent. She crossed her arms over her naked breasts and wished for one of Jackson’s T-shirts. No way was she parading across the hallway in nothing but a pair of lacy green underpants and asking him for a shirt, even if the look on his face would be totally priceless.
Instinctively, she pulled open the top drawer of the chest in case she’d left behind that old, faded nightshirt she used to wear. The drawer was empty. So were the second and the third, but the fourth was a gold mine. There was one of Jackson’s shirts folded neatly beside half a dozen pairs of bikini underpants in white cotton, and an empty heart-shaped candy box.
She grabbed up Jackson’s shirt and pulled it over her head and then picked up the candy box. Jackson had given it to her the Valentine’s Day after they’d married. Inside were dozens of notes he’d given her from the time they were in fifth grade. She blinked back tears as she tucked the box back.
“Another night. I can’t read those now,” she whispered as she shut the drawer.
The scent of Jackson’s cologne had long since faded from the shirt, but Loretta imagined it was still there when she crawled between the sheets a second time. This time when she closed her eyes, she drifted into a deep sleep where she dreamed that Nona was three again and toting around stuffed farm animals everywhere she went.
Sunrays drifted into the bedroom, warming her face in spite of the cool air blowing down on her the next morning. She yawned and rolled over to snuggle up to Jackson’s back, only to grab an armful of feather pillow instead of hard muscular chest. For a split second, she figured he’d gotten up before her and was in the kitchen with Rosie, and then all of the previous day’s events came rushing back.
“Well, shit! I’ve got to get control of myself. I didn’t come back here for walks down memory lane. I came to convince Nona that this is not where she belongs,” she mumbled. “And the first thing I’ve got to stop doing is voicing my thoughts out loud. That could get me a hell of a lot of trouble. The second is to stop cussing.”
Loretta felt the emptiness in the house when she peeked out into the landing. The doors were all shut and there was the faint aroma of coffee in the air, but it was otherwise eerily quiet that morning. She knocked on Nona’s bedroom door. No answer. She opened it a crack and peeked in. Unmade bed, jeans and boots thrown in the direction of the hamper sitting beside the chest of drawers. A big four-poster bed that looked like the one they’d moved out of the bedroom when they’d decided to make it into a nursery had replaced the old crib. The same white chest and dresser that Loretta and Jackson had refinished while they waited on Nona’s birth was still there.
“Anyone here?” Loretta called out before swinging the door wider.
That’s when it dawned on her that it was Sunday. The clock on the nightstand said that it was ten o’clock, and everyone had probably gone to the little church a mile down the road.
Loretta hadn’t slept this late in two decades. Forget about Sunday school or choir practice. She’d have to rush to get to church by eleven. She had to be there or Jackson would win the first round of the battle. He’d never say a word, but he’d be all smug about how he accompanied their daughter to church while she acted like royalty and slept until noon.
She rushed through a quick shower and gazed at the claw-footed tub longingly as she dried off on a big white fluffy towel that smelled like it had been hung out on the line. Then she darted naked across to her room and found a gauze skirt in flowing bright colors and a lime-green knit shirt and a pair of sandals in the same color. It took longer to tame her hair than to apply makeup, but the reflection in the mirror said that she was presentable in plenty of time.
Before she could close her makeup kit, the phone rang. This time it was her sister Dolly, who taught speech and drama at a local college close to Mustang. Loretta wondered which character she’d choose to play that morning. Would it be the smooth psychiatrist or the tearful daughter who couldn’t bear to see her mother’s heart broken by the actions of the irresponsible oldest sister?
“Make it fast. I’m on my way to church,” Loretta said.
“I just talked to Mama. She’s not even going to church this morning. You’ve given her a migraine, but then, it’s not the first time,” Dolly said.
Tearful daughter it was.
“I’ll say a prayer for her. If they had candles at the little church here in the canyon, I’d light one. Is that all?”
“Dammit, Loretta! You’ve been good for so long. We were all talking at Easter about how that your wild streak was finally tamed. Why now?” Dolly’s tone changed. She was a one-woman act, playing multiple parts.
“I’m here to talk Nona into going back to college in the fall. She’s only got one year left.” Loretta repeated the line for what seemed like the millionth time as she got into her van. “And I have six weeks’ vacation time built up. If I can talk her into going back to school, it will be time well used.”
“You never did have a lick of sense when it came to Jackson Bailey.” Dolly’s voice changed again. The many faces of Dolly now played the part of the doctor at the insane asylum.
“Is this the same sister who wouldn’t talk to me for weeks because I left Jackson?”
“I was a kid back then,” Dolly said bluntly.
“So was I. Talk to you later. I’m getting in the van and it’s not safe to talk and drive.” Loretta flipped the phone shut and tossed it over on the passenger seat. She checked the clock on the dashboard and there was plenty of time.
And then that damned cow stood right in the middle of the lane out to the road. No amount of honking, swearing, and even yelling would move the old girl until she located her calf, and then she did a jiggling jog that would have been funny if it hadn’t been five minutes until the preacher would take his place behind the podium.
Dust followed her all the way to the highway and had barely settled when she whipped a hard right onto another dirt road that took her half a mile back into the canyon to a little white church. She braked and slung gravel everywhere in the parking lot, grabbed her purse, and bailed out of the van. Glad that she’d worn sandals instead of high heels, she figured she’d slip in the doors and sit in the back pew.
God had a sense of humor.
The preacher had already taken his place behind the podium. Not even a baby was whimpering. The church was packed full and the door squeaked like a cat with its tail caught under a rocking chair. Everyone physically able turned around in the pews.
“Well, who in the hell is coming to church late? I swear these teenagers ain’t been raised right.” Oliver Watson had gotten arthritis back when Loretta was in school, and evidently he’d since gotten hard of hearing. He probably thought he was whispering, but it carried all over the church.
Loretta took a couple of steps and started to sit down in the first available aisle seat. The little ladies on the pew shuffled toward the other end to make space.
“Loretta Sullivan Bailey. You are a sight for sore eyes,” the preacher said in a loud, booming voice.
She’d know that voice anywhere. It was Bobby Lee Johnson, the wildest kid in the class with her and Jackson. The last time she’d seen him he was still hanging out at the Sugar Shack, getting drunk and trying to sing country music with the jukebox. When he started singing “Bubba Shot the Jukebox,” they’d all known it was time for someone to sweet-talk him out of his keys and take him home. Too many times they’d sent Loretta to do the sweet talking.
“Darlin’, you come on up here and sit with Jackson where you belong. There’s plenty of room on the Bailey family pew.” He motioned her forward. “We’re about to have the Sunday school report and then Travis Calhoun, our new music director, is going to lead us in a hymn before I start my sermon. That’s right, Loretta, right there. You haven’t forgotten where you belong, have you?”
Bobby Lee read off hymn numbers and announcements, but Loretta didn’t hear a word of it. She did feel every single eye boring into her back as she made her way up the center aisle and stopped at the end of the Bailey family pew. She bumped Jackson with her purse, and like a gentleman, he stood up, moved out, and let her sit down beside Rosie.
He had slapped her favorite aftershave on that morning, and when he sat down his whole left side was pressed against her. There wasn’t a blessed thing she could do about it, not with Rosie and all her little elderly buddies packed into the pew as tight as sardines.
“Where is Nona?” she whispered.
“She sits in the choir with Travis. He’s the one coming forward to lead the singing this morning,” Jackson answered.
A handsome young cowboy came from the choir section and pulled a hymnbook from under the podium. “Good morning. Welcome to all our visitors this morning. If you will open your hymnal to page seventy-one, we will sing ‘It’s Not an Easy Road.’” He smiled brightly at the elderly lady playing the piano and started the song in a deep, rich voice.
Loretta reached for a book from the pocket on the back of the pew in front of her, but she wasn’t quick enough. Rosie snatched it to share with the lady sitting to her left. Jackson nudged her with his shoulder and held the hymnal toward her.
“Surprised that our daughter is dating the music director?” Jackson whispered.
“More surprised that he knows how to put a hickey on her neck,” Loretta answered.
Jackson sang along, but his body language said that he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the words. That was fine with Loretta. Neither was she. She wondered if God would really strike lightning through the church house ceiling if she stood up, cussed a blue streak, and then pulled her pistol from her purse and shot the youth director. God could have made Travis as ugly as a mud fence, but oh, no! He’d gone and made the boy almost as handsome as Jackson Bailey. His eyes were almost as black as his hair. His arms stretched at the rolled-up sleeves of his western-cut shirt and his jeans were snug on his thighs and butt.
She’d thought the war would be over in a couple of days. Now it looked like it was going to take at least a week. That should be enough time to put blisters on her daughter’s delicate hands and dirt under her fingernails. Then, in a vulnerable moment when Nona was whining about being so tired she could drop from exhaustion, Loretta would offer her a summer in Paris, France.
All Loretta had to do was exercise a little patience. In a week she and Nona would drive away from cowboys, cattle, and ranching. By the next Sunday, she wouldn’t be tingling from toenails to eyebrows sitting beside Jackson in church—of all places.
But then, from the time she’d realized that there was a boy as tall as she was in fifth grade in Claude, Texas, one who had beautiful blue eyes and dark hair, she’d flat-out been in love with him. He had broken her heart and she’d thought she could get over him in time. Evidently seventeen years hadn’t been long enough.
She sighed as the song ended and Bobby Lee started his sermon. He began by reading a verse about God giving his people rain in due season and went on to talk about how sometimes people didn’t even realize that God had a plan and he would work it out if people were patient and had faith in Him.
Loretta wasn’t patient and her faith was threadbare, so her mind wandered and the preacher’s voice soon faded away. Besides, for God’s sake, that was Bobby Lee Johnson up there. How could she listen to him without skepticism?
She remembered sitting in the same church with Jackson years before, back when they were seniors in high school. It was that summer that all the hungry, hot teenage sex had finally caught up to them, and she’d told him after church on a Sunday morning in the middle of June that she was pregnant.
The next week they’d bought a marriage license and had gotten married in the county courthouse before they took the news home to their parents. Today was the twenty-second anniversary of that day. She wondered if Jackson even remembered.
Bobby Lee said something about, “in closing, remember,” and she jerked her thoughts back to the present. There was a final verse to think about in connection to having faith in God during the tough times, one last hymn, and then Ezra Malloy gave the benediction.
Loretta leaned toward Rosie and whispered, “When did Ezra start coming to church?”
“About fifteen years ago. He always sits on the back row. Seldom ever talks to anyone after he shakes Bobby Lee’s hand. He stays when we have a church social, but the only one he visits with is Jackson. We’re having pot roast for dinner, so don’t go hangin’ around here talkin’ all afternoon,” Rosie said.
Jackson lost no time into getting to his feet and out into the aisle. Loretta followed him and said, “Rosie says that we’re having pot roast for dinner. That much hasn’t changed, has it?”
“Some of us like things the way they are and we don’t want change,” Jackson drawled.
“Loretta, darlin’!” Paula Dawson pushed past several people and wrapped her arms around Loretta, hugging her tightly. “I was so tickled to see you arrive this morning. You rascal, Jackson, why didn’t you tell us she’d come home? This is the best news we’ve had in years.”
“I’m only here for a little while, Paula. I didn’t come back to stay,” Loretta said, hopefully loud enough that all the gossipmongers who’d seen her sharing a songbook with Jackson wouldn’t start making three-tiered cakes.
“Bullshit!” Paula whispered. “Oh, have you met Travis? He’s a keeper. Come here, cowboy.” She grabbed Travis by the arm and brought him to her side. “This is Travis Calhoun and Travis, this is Nona’s mama, Loretta Bailey.” Married to Flint, Lonesome Canyon’s foreman, Paula had always been supersweet to Loretta.
“Right pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard a lot about you, but Nona didn’t tell me you were a gorgeous redhead.” Travis bent low over her hand and kissed her fingertips.
“Travis!” Nona rolled her eyes.
Jackson chuckled. “Travis, you’ve got a lot to learn. Pretty words and even a knight-in-shining-armor gesture like that won’t pierce this woman’s cold, hard heart,” he said.
Loretta pulled her hand back and opened her mouth to say something, but Jackson butted in again. “Why don’t you come to dinner with us, Travis? Rosie always makes enough to feed an army.”
Jackson was testing her, trying to get her to make an excuse to keep Travis away that Sunday afternoon. This was only the beginning of a war that Jackson wouldn’t win.
She laid a hand on Travis’s shoulder and said, “Please say you will join us. I’d love to get to know you better. Which one of your parents is Scottish? I’d guess it would be your father, since your name is Calhoun. And don’t let Jackson tell you stories about the Irish.” She winked and whispered, “He’s a Bailey and the Irish like to think they can outsmart the Scots. Don’t let him intimidate you.”
“Miz Loretta, you intimidate me a whole lot more than Jackson.” Travis smiled.
“Good.” Loretta patted his shoulder.
“Don’t trust her. Any woman who brings a pistol to church is downright evil,” Jackson whispered.
Nona grabbed her mother’s purse and looked inside. “Why did you bring a gun to church?”
Jackson folded his arms over his chest. “It’s a good thing Bobby Lee didn’t preach on something that made her mad.”
Nona handed the purse back to her mother.
Loretta cut her eyes at Jackson. “It was in my purse and I have had a permit since before Nona was born, so don’t be givin’ me no shit now. You are the one who took me to the classes to get a permit, if you will remember. You insisted. And when did Bobby Lee become a preacher?” She looked back at Nona.
“Which one did you have a mind to shoot? Jackson or Travis?” Rosie whispered as they moved toward the door with the rest of the congregation.
“Both
,” Loretta said.
“See, I told y’all that she’s evil,” Jackson said.
“Don’t cross me or I’ll prove that you are right,” she said.
Jackson leaned forward and whispered, “Travis is a good man. Hardworking and he really does love Nona. Don’t shoot him until you get to know him.”
His warm breath on her neck sent shivers up dancing up and down her spine. She tried to tell herself that it was the way he looked all dressed up in his Sunday best, but her heart knew better than that.
“I don’t care if he’s got wings on his boots and a halo on his cowboy hat. She’s not wasting her life in this canyon,” Loretta said. “You know I don’t give up easy, Jackson Bailey.”
“You forget that I know your expressions even better than I know mine, and right now you don’t believe that. You might be hoping for it, but you are fighting a losing battle, Loretta.”
Three more inches and he would kiss that soft curve of her neck. In that moment she wanted to feel his lips on her skin so badly that it ached.
“What are you two arguing about?” Nona asked over her shoulder.
“We were discussing your mama’s gun collection,” Jackson answered.
Loretta shot a mean look his way, but he reached up and pretended to catch the look and shove it in his pocket. “I’ll keep that one for later when I need to remember how mean you are.”
She shrugged. “She’s going to finish school.”
Nona made the introductions when they reached the open door. “Pastor Bobby Lee, this is my mother, Loretta Bailey.”
Long, Hot Texas Summer Page 3