Heart of Texas

by Mary Alfort

“So, how’s the book coming?” Tippy’s over-the-top cheery voice came over the phone, an unwelcome reminder of the past. I could tell right away she’d been worried by my silence.

  She’d caught me sitting in my makeshift home office, the old dining room that had long ago been converted into a graveyard for unused pieces of McClanahan history. With Thelma’s help, I’d lugged my old desk from the room I shared with Buster to my new workspace. I’d shoved aside the stack of boxes from Dallas I was too scared to open, and pushed the desk against the only window in the room. I’d spent days preparing my writing room and hadn’t come up with a single line in weeks.

  As much as I tried, I couldn’t manufacture enough false enthusiasm to convince myself, much less Tippy, everything was coming along according to schedule. “OK, I guess.”

  “Just OK?” Her tone took a turn toward hard.

  I hadn’t written a word since rewriting the latest dull attempt to continue Tim’s and Lois’ story. I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t just give back the advance and call it a day. It was time to be honest with Tippy. I owed her that much. “Look, Tippy, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m sorry, I know you were counting on me, but I haven’t written a word in weeks. I can’t even think about Tim and Lois without wanting to scream. Honestly, I think I’m done.”

  The lengthy silence that met my confession was like a period at the end of the sentence.

  Tippy was beginning to realize the truth. Being the good agent she was, she had to give it her best shot. “Thank you for being honest with me, Laney. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and it must be hard, but I think you need to take some time before coming to the conclusion that you’re done with writing. Wait until your life settles down a bit before deciding anything permanent.”

  I didn’t think there would ever come a time when my life was settled down again. Maybe when my child turned eighteen. For Tippy’s sake, I would make the effort. “What about the publisher and the−”

  “You let me deal with the publisher. You just concentrate on getting yourself together.”

  “Tippy, I don’t know...”

  “I do. You’re a writer, Laney. Not a wannabe—a true writer. You can’t just turn it off or give it up. It’ll come back to you. Just give it time.”

  Two hours later, I’d come up with a plan. It was risky, but hey, it was a start. Who knew? Maybe it wasn’t too late for me to change genres.

  Reasons why I’m thankful I came home to Down:

  1: To help my aunts stay out of jail.

  2: To stop feeling sorry for myself.

  3: Never to have to see Tom Winters’s face again.

  4: To learn how to really write again.

  ****

  I’d been bracing myself for days, waiting for the final proof of Tom’s sliminess to arrive. When it did, I couldn’t bring myself to open the envelope. I’d kept watch for the mail since Tom had called, trying to beat Thelma to the punch because I didn’t want to have to answer her questions. Each day, under the pretense of walking the high school track, I’d run home and retrieve the mail. I’d gotten so good at timing the postman I could actually pin him down to the minute.

  When the official-looking brown envelope finally arrived, my fingers actually shook as I held it up to the light, as if I’d suddenly developed x-ray vision. My palms grew sweaty and my vision blurred. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t go inside the house. I just stood on the front lawn, trying to breathe normally.

  It was in this strange state that Jake found me. He honked the Black Beast’s horn and waved as he drove past our house. When I didn’t make a move to return the greeting, Jake hit the brakes and backed up. “Laney? Are you OK?”

  I struggled to answer, shake my head, do something to send him on his way, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do anything but drag in deep gulps of air.

  The truck’s door slammed and he came to me in a hurry. “Are you in pain?”

  I think I managed to blink at this point.

  “It’s OK. Let’s get you inside.” He glanced at the mail scattered on the ground and the brown envelope I still clutched in my hand. Seconds later, he’d scooped up the mail, circled his arm around my waist and practically carried me into the house. He lowered me onto the sofa, and then felt my hot forehead. “How long have you been standing out there? It’s been awfully warm out today.” He left for a minute and came back carrying a glass of water. “Here, drink this slowly and tell me how you feel.”

  I reached for the glass. I was still clinging to Tom’s envelope.

  Jake pried it from my fingers. He tossed it on the coffee table, sat down beside me, and then placed my hand around the glass.

  I took a couple of sips then handed it back to him.

  He set the glass on the end table and felt my forehead again, his trained gaze assessing my condition. Apparently he was satisfied nothing was physically wrong with me. “What happened out there? You were as pale as a ghost.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to have this discussion.

  His gaze returned to the envelope with its bold black lettering announcing the name of Tom’s law firm. “That looks official.” Something came and went in his eyes. Was it just my imagination, or had his concern changed to empathy?

  Whatever it was, I wasn’t used receiving it from a man, and it undid me. When the first stinging tear slipped from my eye, I scrubbed it aside with anger. But it didn’t seem to matter how hard I wiped, once I’d let that first betraying droplet loose, the rest just wouldn’t stop.

  I wasn’t aware of Jake moving at all until I felt his arms bring me against him. There was strength in him that was both comforting and calming. It no longer mattered that he’d see me at my lowest moment emotionally. I’d tell him everything about what was in that letter, and he would listen without judging me on my past failures.

  For what seemed like hours, he held me while I cried. Even after there were no more tears left inside me, he still didn’t let me go.

  He gestured at the envelope. “You want me to open this for you?” His words were spoken gently. He wouldn’t let me take the coward’s way out. Jake was the type of man who met problems head-on.

  I wished I could be more like that. Instead, I stalled for so long he apparently decided I wouldn’t answer him.

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  As I imagined opening that letter alone, I finally unglued my tongue. “No. I don’t think I need to be alone, if my reaction to simply receiving it is any indication.”

  He smiled and then let me go. “Is it your divorce papers? Is that what’s got you so upset?”

  If only it were that simple.

  “No, it’s what else is included with those papers.”

  Jake didn’t have a clue. Why would he? He was the type of man who would never desert his own child.

  “Tom wants to relinquish his rights as a parent.” I ripped open the envelope and tossed the divorce decree on the coffee table. I found an official document signing over all parental rights to me, along with a check for an insanely huge amount of money. The check slipped from my fingers to the floor. Apparently, Tom was so eager to be done with me and our child that he was willing to pay big for his freedom.

  Jake picked up the check and released a low whistle when he spotted the amount.

  “I guess he really doesn’t want to be part of the baby’s life,” I murmured. “I thought... well, I thought once our little one was born and he held it that...you know.”

  “I’d say you’re both better off without him. What kind of man can sign away his rights to be a father, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not taking his lousy money, though. I don’t want to force him to be part of our lives, but he can keep the money.”

  Jake watched me for a moment before speaking quietly. “Laney, you should take the money. I agree with you, anyone who’s willing to sign away their rights to their child wouldn’t make a good father, but he shouldn’t get off that easily
. He does have some obligations that can’t be signed away. If nothing else, you should save the money for your child’s education and upbringing.”

  Of course, he was right. No matter what my feelings were for Tom, this was my child’s money. “You’re right. My baby deserves better than he or she is getting from the biological father.” I glanced at my watch. I’d been gone from the diner for more than two hours. The aunts would be worried, as well as highly suspicious, by now. “I have to get back to the diner. I didn’t tell my aunts where I was going.” Although I wasn’t up to sharing the reasoning behind this deception, one glance at Jake’s smile told me he’d figured it out.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I left it at the diner. I told them I was walking the track.”

  “I see. Well, it looks as though you need a ride, and I just happen to be going your way.”

  ****

  Somewhere between church services, his frequent trips to the diner for coffee, and accepting a few words of wisdom from Thelma while exchanging razor sharp banter with Selma, Jake Montgomery miraculously managed to win my aunts’ favor.

  Once he’d joined the church, they went positively gaga over him. Selma busily schooled him on the proper way to study the Bible, while Thelma sang my praises every time she was near him. That meant there would be definite trouble ahead for me. So when the two of them ambushed me with a night off and turned the evening dinner service at the diner over to the three teenagers who worked that shift, I guessed something big was up. I found out what it was the minute the doorbell rang and I answered it to find Jake standing before me with a sheepish grin.

  “They wouldn’t let me tell you,” he whispered before Selma yanked the door out of my hand and pulled him inside.

  I knew I’d have to put my foot down soon, before I ended up engaged to him. Clearly they didn’t plan on wasting any time. I’d finally told them about my divorce being finalized, but I just couldn’t tell the full extent of Tom’s rottenness. After sitting through what had to be the longest meal of my life, I thought my aunts would finally cut me some slack and change the subject from me to anything else. I was wrong.

  Thelma got busy singing my praises again. “Here’s Laney’s first book.” Aunt Thelma handed Jake a copy of Always and Forever, the first book I’d ever written. My publisher bought it shortly after the Tim and Lois story hit big. It was filled with clichés and over-the-top emotion.

  “Thelma, Jake doesn’t care about my books.”

  “How do you know?” he asked with a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Because it’s a cheesy romance story that should never have been published in the first place.” I snatched the book from his hand and glowered at Aunt Thelma.

  “Someone’s testy,” she whispered to Jake. “Must be because of the baby.”

  I decided to leave Thelma to her entertaining before I said something I’d regret. I found Selma in the kitchen slicing apple pie and smoking like a chimney.

  “Need some help?” I ignored the cigar for the moment.

  She nodded with the stogie hanging from her mouth and pointed at the dessert plates. “Put those on the tray. Thelma got you two hitched yet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not yet, but she’s doing her best. And don’t play innocent with me. You’re just as bad.”

  For the first time in longer than I could remember, Aunt Selma actually laughed. “That baby needs a daddy and it’s obvious that sorry, good-for-nothing lump you called a husband isn’t stepping up to the plate.” She squinted my way. “When’s the last time you talked to him, anyway?”

  “Aunt Selma, that’s my business.”

  “Just as I thought. You could do a whole lot worse, Laney. I’d say you have already, and I’m not trying to rub it in your face.” She read my reaction correctly. “I’m only saying you have to think about the baby as well.”

  I didn’t tell her as much, but the truth was, I’d been thinking about little else.

  Earlier in the week, the two of them had sat me down one night after the dinner rush to tell me they wanted to convert my dad’s old room into a nursery. I’d felt like crying at their thoughtfulness, especially from Selma, who rarely showed her tender side. Since that time, I’d been poring over decorating ideas with Thelma and we’d been giggling like high school girls, much to Selma’s dismay.

  “I know. Believe me, I am thinking about my baby.” I followed her out of the kitchen.

  Thelma practically beamed when she spotted us. “Oh, there you two are. Where’s Larry?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks half way through the door. This wasn’t the first time she’d spoken of my father as if he were still alive. In fact, there’d been so many times even Selma was beginning to worry. But it wasn’t just her confusion over my father that was troubling. At times, especially when she overtaxed herself, she’d speak of past events when she and Selma were kids as if they’d happened yesterday.

  Before I could try once more to convince her that she needed to agree to an appointment with Jake, Selma took matters into her own hands. She set the coffee tray down on the table so hard it set cups clattering. I’d never once seen Selma look this angry, not even the time I’d used her prized ‘58 T-Bird as a blackboard while holding class for my dolls.

  “Thelma, dag nabbit, that’s enough. You’re scheduling that appointment with Jake for tomorrow morning if I have to hogtie you and drag you to it. I don’t want to hear any arguing about it.” A shocked hush fell. Selma’s looked her sister in the eye, and ignored Thelma’s tears. “That ain’t gonna help and it sure as shootin’ isn’t changing my mind. You’re going and that’s that.”

  “They’ll think I’m crazy. You’ll put me away,” Thelma wailed.

  I started for her but Jake stopped me with a look.

  Let Selma handle it.

  “Nobody here thinks you’re crazy, and they’d have to put you away over my dead body, but you do have a problem, sis. There’s no denying it any longer.”

  “I don’t want to be put in a home.” Thelma buried her face in the hanky she’d produced from inside the bosom of her dress.

  Selma threw up her hands in despair. “Laney, Jake, talk some sense into this woman.”

  I sat down next to Thelma and put my arms around her, holding her tight.

  Jake explained exactly what was involved in the exam. “I promise we’ll take good care of you, Ms. Thelma.”

  “You sure will, Jake Montgomery. ‘Cause I’ll be there to make sure that you do,” Selma declared while squeezing her sister’s hand.

  They did that twin silent communication that always amazed me. When I was a child, soon after my parents’ car accident, I’d craved their attention, and they’d been generous in giving it to me. Still, there was always a bond between them I couldn’t share. At the time, I didn’t understand it. Now, even after coming to accept their connection, I was still jealous of it.

  “Why don’t you walk Jake to his car, Laney? Thelma and I are calling it a night. Now don’t stay up too late. I think my sister and I will sleep in, so you’ll have to open the diner in the morning. I’ll call Callie and Suzette to make sure they show up on time, but we’re counting on you to keep things going.”

  We’re counting on you...

  Selma had only asked for my help once before, so I knew, no matter what, I’d do everything within my power not to let my aunts down.

  Reasons why I’m thankful I came home to Down:

  1: To help my aunts stay out of jail.

  2: To stop feeling sorry for myself.

  3: Never to have to see Tom Winters’s face again.

  4: To learn how to really write again.

  5: To be there for my aunts when they ask for my help.

  10

  Sometimes learning to lean on someone is harder than learning to let go.

  Dementia can be a frightening diagnosis when it involves someone you love. After several more visits and lots of tests, Jake confirmed what I’d f
eared. Selma had been with her sister through the entire ordeal, never once letting Thelma feel sorry for herself.

  I did my part by keeping the diner going in their absence.

  In that no-nonsense way of hers, Selma had assessed the situation and come up with a plan. She and Thelma would designate a flash word to use whenever Thelma became confused, a way of letting Thelma realize she’d gone back into the past.

  Jake had cautioned them both there would be times when Thelma would become frustrated with her condition. She’d forget things. She’d need her family there with her for support.

  For me, it was hard watching my aunts grow older and frailer. They’d meant everything to me for so long, I couldn’t think about losing them to dementia, and certainly not to prison.

  “How do your aunts know Ramie Deautreve?”

  Blake Whitney’s call was an unwelcome intrusion into my thoughts. I had a feeling it meant my day was about to turn bad. While waiting for my aunts to return from another office visit, I’d spent most of the morning trying to keep the diner from falling apart in their absence.

  “Ramie Deautreve? Who’s Ramie Deautreve and how—”

  “Only the alleged biggest crime boss in Louisiana. Laney, we’ve got a huge problem. The Feds have recorded conversations between your aunt and Deautreve.”

  “What? That’s impossible. Uh, hang on a second, Blake.” I motioned Callie McGuire into the office and placed my hand over the receiver. “What is it, Callie?”

  “The beverage supplier’s here. He wants money.” Callie had worked for my aunts going on five years, and despite working around food, she was still as thin as a rail. In that time, she’d changed her hair color at least a dozen times. Today, it was bright orange.

  “Thank you, Callie. Have him wait. I’ll be with him in a moment.”

  Once I was alone again, I considered Blake’s words. “Obviously, they’re being set up.”

  “Laney, that’s not possible. The phones were tapped before Butch rolled over on them. There’s no way he could have known.”

  “Tapped?” I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. “None of this makes any sense. You’ve heard the tapes. What did they talk about with this Deautreve person?”