The Real Thing

by Tina Ann Forkner

  “I guess cowboys do,” he said, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

  “About that,” I teased. “I didn’t know.”

  “I love you.” He brushed my hair back with one hand, held my hand in the other. “What would I do without you?”

  And there, that was all I needed to hear.

  He wasn’t going to run out and divorce me because of this, so I knew that no matter what happened in the next part of our lives, I could handle it.

  “How did you end up here, this morning, anyway?”

  “Besides serendipity? I think I was trying to atone for my sins,” I said. I gave a half-hearted laugh, only halfway joking. “I felt bad that every time I ran into Judy, or anyone like her, I freaked out, you know? Because of Momma. So before we left Pillar Bluff, I wanted to see her –my friend Judy – to see if I could be a better person… like Marta and Adri. Like you.” I didn’t explain how I felt drawn to Judy. I didn’t understand it myself.

  He shook his head. “What are you talking about? I know those situations make you think of your mom, but you never treat anyone poorly.”

  “But it’s what’s in my head.” I sighed. “I know, it sounds silly to someone like you.”

  He shook his head, reached out, and fluffed one of my stray curls. “Not silly at all. I’m not good. But I’m impressed you came. I assume a place like this brings back sad memories for you.”

  “It does,” I said. “I almost left, but I wanted to see Judy. I couldn’t get her out of my head.”

  “Me neither,” he said. “Ever since you pointed Judy out at the rodeo that day.”

  “You didn’t recognize her then?”

  He shook his head. “Not at first. Not until I saw her in her room, all those pictures, some of our things, on her dresser. She looks so changed compared to when I last saw her. Older, I guess.” I knew Judy was only about three years older than Keith, which meant she was barely forty. I could see how he would be surprised.

  “I think she recognized you,” I said, remembering how she seemed to be such a fan of his at the rodeo.

  “On some level, she did,” he said. “A doctor explained it to me yesterday morning. On some plane, deep inside, she has memories and recollections, feelings, but she has trouble remembering what’s what. Although she still has flashes of clarity, like when she called Peyton’s number.”

  Like my momma at the end, I thought, when Marta and I were fooled into hoping she had been cured from her schizophrenia.

  “They say that in a few years, those will be gone, too. She’s advanced more quickly than they expected.”

  “Poor Peyton,” I said. “In a way, she’s been right all this time. How amazing that Violet recalled Peyton’s number. What if we’d made her change it?”

  “We’d never have found her, if we’d taken that old phone away and changed her number.”

  Keith squeezed my hand. He sat up straighter in his seat and was Keith the tough cowboy again, transfigured right before my eyes. We sat there for a long time, just holding hands, and listening to the country radio station, until we were interrupted by Keith’s cell phone chime.

  “Peyton wants to know when we’re coming home.”

  My phone chimed, too. “Same message.”

  “Tell her we’ll be there tomorrow. And let’s not tell her about her mother, yet.”

  I texted her and she replied, K.

  “So, when you called the lawyer, that’s when you found out where Violet was?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But only that she was in this town.”

  “That’s why you were helping Adri with her cause?”

  “Not at first,” he said. “Strange coincidence, isn’t it? I just felt drawn to contribute. Adri’s a good fundraiser.”

  I thought about what Daddy would say, about God working in mysterious ways. And in The Southern Pair, there are never any coincidences when a customer sees an item that reminds them of the past, or what they are hoping for in the future.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

  “I was going to, cowgirl. I just needed to figure it out for myself. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “There is nothing at all to forgive,” I said, meaning it. It wasn’t as if he had a handbook to tell him what to do in this situation. Of course, no matter how strong I was trying to be, it didn’t stop a sudden wave of nausea from sweeping over me.

  “Hey,” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “It’s just all the excitement, I’m sure,” I said. I took a deep breath, wanting so much to be stronger.

  “You look a little pale.”

  I offered a weak smile. “I’m fine. So, we need to decide. What are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But Mandy? I hope you’ll be there – to help, I guess. I understand if it’s too awkward. If you don’t want any of this anymore, I understand.”

  Could he be serious?

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “And that’s a promise.

  He sighed, his relief obvious, but not as much as mine. I didn’t bother to share with him the earlier itch I’d had to jump out of the truck and run away from it all. Thank the good Lord it was only a thought. Whatever came, I could take it. Of course, I’m not a seer into the future, or I might have sprinted while I still could.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Violet Judith Black.

  Her full name was spelled out in the divorce papers, drawn up while Violet – who called herself Judy – was still of sound mind. What Keith had never seen before his visit to the lawyer was her living will. In it, she made all the provisions needed so that her kids would need not even know she had passed when the time came for her to die. It also contained a paragraph that I read to myself several times, just so I could get comfortable with it before moving on to the task at hand.

  “And if my ex-husband and children ever find me, I will probably not remember them. I want them to be told that I loved them. Keith Black will always be the one love of my life and my children, whom I love dearly, my reason for doing this. And if Keith is remarried, I know it will be to a woman worthy of loving him and my children. This woman, in her shock, might think of leaving when she finds out about me, but I pray she will stay, and I thank her for it.”

  I read it until the lines started to blur, trying to picture Keith’s reaction, how he’d felt when he read that paragraph. I could only imagine. Violet had thought of everything. I called Marta, and read the words to her.

  “Oh, that poor woman.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m not saying she made the right choice, because I don’t think she did,” I said, again thinking of Momma. “But it was obviously made out of love.”

  “Obviously,” Marta agreed.

  “But I don’t know if Peyton will understand.”

  “Y’all are going to tell her?”

  “Someday.”

  “Good. Because she deserves to know.”

  “Hey, sis?”

  “Yes?”

  “When I first walked into Cottonwood Manor, I almost panicked. It made me think of Momma, when she was at that home outside of Castle Orchard, but I stayed.”

  “I’m proud of you,” she said. I let those words sink in.

  “I decided to forgive her,” I said.

  Silence, then a sniff.

  “When are you two coming home, honey?”

  “This afternoon. We just have one more thing to do, and then we’re leaving.”

  Since the shock of finding Violet, a longing to see my family and the kids had swelled inside of me. I couldn’t wait to get home.

  “Hi, Judy.”

  She wore a lavender outfit that must have been from her rodeo queen days and her eyes filled with a smile when she saw us. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly felt shy, as if meeting Judy for the first time. She didn’t seem to mind. She was apparently a huggy person because she quickly walked in our direct
ion and bestowed hugs on both of us.

  Keith leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, an act that was full of all the innocence of a brotherly kiss to her, but I could see that it was a familiar gesture, as well. I ignored the blush of his cheek when he glanced my way and the way that she simply glowed when she looked at him.

  “Hello, Cowboy Man.”

  “Hello, Violet,” he said.

  “Who’s Violet?” she asked, her voice filled with childish innocence. She looked at me. “Oh, are you Violet?”

  “No,” I said. “Violet is, well, she is a friend.”

  She nodded. “Oh, I understand. I hope she can come by for a visit soon.”

  “So do I, Judy.”

  “Please,” she said with all the elegance and poise of the rodeo queen she used to be when she was young. “Have a seat.”

  We all three squeezed around a tiny garden-style table. She served us vanilla sandwich cookies and water in dainty purple cups that she said was tea. Keith ran his fingertip over the rim of the tea cup and I wondered if he was recalling the broken china plate with the purple ring from his argument with Peyton.

  Judy was a talker, and so after a while, her chatter, however random it was, made me feel less awkward. Keith on the other hand, had loosened up right away. Violet’s letter had freed him just a little. His face was not joyful, but happy as he gazed at her. Perhaps he was trying to find a piece of Violet in Judy’s face. I tried not to figure out what he was thinking, what all of this meant to him, what it was going to mean to us in the future. For now, I was just going to be here beside him.

  I could see a little spark, despite her dull brown hair and plain skin, of what Keith might have seen in her at one time. And she was witty! Maybe wittier than me, so I could see why Keith always laughed at my jokes. Judy’s jokes were silly and their meaning was lost in her funny babble, but her sincerity was contagious. Keith and I were both laughing with her when a nurse came in to take her vitals and give her some medicine.

  She cried like a child because she didn’t want the medicine, which made me cry, and Keith’s protective instincts come out.

  He interjected. “Does she have to take it right now?”

  The nurse reassured him. “This is the way it always is, Mr. Black. She will be okay. I promise.”

  The nurse was gentle with her, and after Judy took the pills, she told her she was a good girl, which made Judy smile. After she left, just as the nurse had said would happen, Judy went back to normal, or at least what was her normal.

  She moved to a cushioned rocking chair, all grace, and studied Keith. “You look like a cowboy I know,” she said.

  “Who’s that?” He was smiling at her, a teasing look that I recognized.

  “Oh, he’s a wild dog rider.”

  Keith chuckled. “Oh. Do you mean a wild horse rider?”

  She giggled. “Yes. Yes. That is what I said. A wild dog rider.”

  I didn’t know if I should laugh or stay silent. I wasn’t yet accustomed to these conversations with Judy, but Keith, always the gentleman knew what to do. He just nodded, agreeing with her.

  “What’s his name?” Keith asked. By now, we both knew who she meant, but we played along.

  “Man,” she said. “His, c…c…cowboy man, is his name.”

  I smiled at this. I couldn’t help it, but I did place my hand over my mouth so that I wouldn’t hurt Judy’s feelings.

  “And who are these children?” Judy asked, pointing to the picture of herself with Peyton and Stevie. “Do you know?”

  I watched Keith’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Those kids,” he said. “Are named Peyton and Stephen.”

  “Lovely names,” she said. “I bet their mother is proud of them. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes. I think she probably is.”

  “Is that woman their mother?” She pointed at the photo again.

  “She is.”

  “Nice woman,” Judy said.

  “Yes. She is.”

  After a while, Judy nodded off in the rocking chair. Keith and I stood to leave. I had brought my bag inside, in hopes of offering to give her a new hairdo the way I had for Momma, if she wanted me to, but she was obviously too tired. We would have to do it on a future visit.

  The realization that there would be another visit, without even having discussed it with Keith, surprised me, but it felt right. Strange, and it gave me a little bit of a stomach ache to think about it, but definitely right.

  “We’ll come back,” I whispered to Keith, knowing he would have come back whether I had said it or not. Better to be a part of this than a bystander.

  I clutched Keith’s arm and reached for the door.

  “Keith Brown.” Judy, or maybe in that moment, Violet said.

  Keith released my arm from his and spun around. Her eyes were open and she was smiling.

  “Yes?”

  “Keith Brow…brow…No… Black. He’s a star.”

  I watched Keith’s face transform from a surprised smile, to sadness, and then fighting back tears.

  “I knew he would come see me, someday,” she said.

  Keith still didn’t answer, being too choked up and all.

  “My friends, they laughed at me, but I knew someday Keith Black would come and autograph this for me.” She stood, walked primly over to her dresser. She paused to straighten her knickknacks, and the thought occurred to me that Violet and her things were proof that The Southern Pair was filled with providential, if not magical items that connected people to their happier selves, but even our inventory of mementos had limits. Judy’s mementos connected her to the past somehow, but sadly, they couldn’t heal her from Alzheimer’s. She opened an antique drawer and pulled out an old issue of a western magazine and held it out for us to see. She smiled at us from the cover, as did a younger version of Keith.

  “That,” she said, “Is he. That’s he. Keith Black. And his girl. Doesn’t she look like such a nice person?” She pointed at the image of herself.

  I answered for my mute husband. “Yes. She looks like a nice person. I think she is a very nice person.”

  She nodded, gazing at the magazine cover. “And she… You can tell she is just crazy about c…c…cowboy man. Don’t you think?” She smiled in a way that, beyond the lined eyes and bare face, reminded me of some of the old queen pictures Peyton had hanging in her room.

  “Yes,” I said. “You can tell. She loved…” I swallowed, hating to say it despite the situation. “They’re a great couple. I am sure of it.”

  She looked at me, her head tilted in the way a child might when trying to figure something out. “Do you think he loves that girl in the picture, too?

  My heart split right in two. Keith was still silent. “Yes,” I said for him. “He loves that girl.” Because it was the girl, the forever young Violet that was part of his past.

  She smiled, looking happy. “I thought so.”

  Keith turned away and I tried to engage Judy by talking about horses while he collected himself. When he turned back, she held the magazine out to him.

  “Could you please have Keith Black autograph this next time you see him, Cowboy Man?”

  “How about now?”

  “No, no.” She said. “When you see him is fine.”

  Keith smiled sadly. “I sure will.”

  We said goodbye then, and I noticed Keith was extra gentle as he let his ex-wife hug him and kiss his cheek. She giggled like a seven-year-old, which made Keith smile sadly.

  I hugged her then, mostly because she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Come back to see me, cowgirl.”

  I almost told her I wasn’t at all a cowgirl, but I knew she wouldn’t believe it.

  “We will.”

  “I like that cowgirl, Cowboy Man.” She fiddled with the fringe on her vest. “I like her.” It took me a moment to figure out that she probably meant me.

  “That cowgirl…she likes you, too, Judy.” And I was telling the truth.

 
Chapter Fifteen

  Over the next few months, I did what I could to help Keith find out who else knew about Judy. We decided not to tell Peyton or Stevie for a while. We didn’t know how long, but we just knew that now wasn’t the right time. Judy’s parents, sadly, were passed on. There was one aunt and a couple of cousins who Keith said Judy never even knew before her illness, so we didn’t contact them. The only other person who knew about Judy was her brother, whom Keith had already reconnected with. Apparently he had stopped visiting at least a year ago because his presence, unlike Keith’s, sent her into confused rages. Keith said they had always been close, so it would have been difficult for him to endure. Still, her brother checked on her by phone and made sure everything was okay on a regular basis.

  “Will he develop Alzheimer’s, too?” I asked once.

  A shadow passed over Keith’s face. “He says he doesn’t know. He’s older than her, and so far, he has no signs. He said he doesn’t want to be tested for the gene.”

  I blinked back tears when I realized the implication of Keith’s words. This could affect Stevie and Peyton someday.

  Dear God, please not the kids.

  Keith didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it right then, so I didn’t say it out loud.

  “So,” I said. “Do you think Pia’s mom knew?”

  “If Kim knew, she would’ve told me,” Keith said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” he said. “But the question is, do I tell her? Judy didn’t want anyone to know. Not me. Not even her best friend.”

  Great, now I’m going to have to forgive Pia’s mom for being so rude to me. All I can say, is, it’s hard to be humble sometimes.

  “Do you want me to explain it to Kim?”

  He smiled. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  I shook my head, relieved. “Just make sure she knows that we are telling Peyton when the time is right. Not her. And not Pia. Pia can’t know. She’ll tell Peyton.”

  “Good point.”

  And that was the kind of stuff we talked about in between his rodeos. It kind of killed the romance, most of the time, even as we grew closer and closer. Not that we didn’t still want romance, but it was kind of awkward to talk about Judy and then go kindle the fires, if you know what I mean. When I confided to Marta one evening after we closed The Southern Pair for the day, she told me to stop worrying.