Heart of Texas

by Kirk Haggerty

  “Look, Karen, about last night, I hope I didn’t embarrass…”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get there, Ok?”

  I nodded, wondering what she wanted to say about it. “Sure.”

  “Open the glove box and put in the CD,” she said. I did as I was told. It was a Jane Austen audio book.

  “Anything in particular?” I asked.

  “Track seven.”

  I selected track seven and let it play. A famous actress, whose name I didn’t pay attention to, started reading an excerpt from ‘Emma’.

  “Why this story?”

  “You ask too many questions. I love this story,” she said, taking a curve that made me reach for the door handle so I wouldn’t fall on top of her – despite wearing safety belts.

  I looked around the open land and scrub. No cops in sight. Relax.

  “Are you familiar with Emma?”

  “A little,” I answered.

  “Then you must know about the picnic scene.” At that moment she turned up the volume for the narrator to speak above the noise of the engine:

  “They had a very fine day for Box Hill … Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there. Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and everybody had a burst of admiration on first arriving.”

  “So why do you like the picnic scene?”

  “The Box Hill scene in Emma is pivotal,” Karen explained. “After Emma insults Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley confronts her about her behavior. Afterwards, Emma begins to change. Not only does she learn to respect Mr. Knightley’s good judgment, but it also leads to a later revelation that she loves him.”

  I was about to say something on that issue, but she stopped me.

  “Don’t speak, just listen.”

  “I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! But I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall. And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much mistress of their husband’s house as I am Hartfield; and never, never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.”

  Hidden message? I wondered. Was this about me?

  We listened to the entire chapter while we flew through near-hyperspace in the Spider. Finally Karen pushed the pause button.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Was that road kill up ahead? Too late. The Spider barely made a bump across the already flat carnage. The land looked dryer the further south we drove. I could see fata morganas of a mirage lake from a distance.

  “You want my opinion on that chapter?”

  “Yes.”

  “The truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think the whole picnic scene is ridiculous.”

  She pulled her sunglasses below her nose and gazed at me. “What?”

  “I’m familiar with Emma as well. She’s spoiled rotten, growing up in a rich mansion. The idea of going on a picnic in the Regency Era was no easy thing to do. You needed wagons full of food, dishes, drinks, with servants accompanying the family to do all the dirty work. They often travelled many miles with horses to find some nice hill or valley with a pretty view of a lake or a mountain. It also meant the servants had to carry all this baggage to the picnic site and set everything up. They most likely needed a cook to start a fire to prepare warm food and make tea. They also had to dig a latrine not too far away for whenever ‘nature called’.”

  “Ok, I get your point,” she said frustrated. “The logistics were hard back then, I’ll admit it. I was thinking more about Emma herself.”

  “I never would have loved someone like Emma.”

  “Aha,” she said, accelerating the car with the engine at almost deafening speed. “So, what sort of woman in literature would you have fallen in love with?”

  A trap. Cat and Mouse. Tom and Jerry. Itchy and Scratchy. Ok, honesty is the best policy. I said, “Hester Prynne.”

  She glanced for a second away from the road to me. “Who? Did you say Charlton Heston?” She released the gas pedal a little to cut down on the noise.

  “Hester Prynne. From Nathaniel Hawthorne’s story ‘The Scarlet Letter.’”

  “Why her?”

  “Because despite her adultery, she was a woman of integrity and character.”

  “I think you’re biased,” she said, focusing on the road. She again floored the pedal. The car began to rattle as she pushed it to 190.

  “In what way am I biased?” I had to almost yell for her to hear me above the roar of the engine.

  “Hawthorne was from Boston, just like you.”

  “You are mistaken, my dear. Hawthorne was born in Salem.” I pointed to the temperature reading on the radiator dial – it was now approaching the red zone. “Kenny would not appreciate you burning out his engine.”

  She nodded and once more took her foot off the pedal, within a moment we were slowing down to normal roller-coaster speeds of 120 or so.

  “Explain, please,” she insisted.

  “I agree with what John Updike said one time in a commentary about Hester.”

  “John Updike?” She answered. “That man and his trash stories. What did he say?”

  “Well, regardless of what you think of Updike, I still agreed with him. He said that Hester was ‘an epitome of female predicaments’ and ‘every woman's attempt to integrate her sexuality with societal demands.’”

  “You mean to say Hester couldn’t be what she wanted to be because of her circumstances and the Puritanical world she lived in?”

  I wanted to answer her, but the sounds of a police siren interrupted my thought.

  “Oh shit!” Karen looked at the rear view mirror. The flashing blue and red lights were reflecting off the mirror. She pulled over to the side. We must have driven about halfway already.

  A fat police officer with cowboy hat strutted up to Karen’s side of the Spider. I pulled out my smart phone and innocently laid it on my lap - starting the video camera

  “A fine piece of hardware if I’ve ever seen one, ma’am,” he said with a heavy Southern drawl. “Where’s the fire if I may ask?”

  “I’m terribly sorry Sheriff Driscol. I got completely carried away.” Karen acted all innocent. Her voice changed to a sweeter Texas voice “It’s such a fine warn Christmas day that we only wanted to take a ride through the open countryside.” She knew the name of the officer? I angled the phone in the direction of Karen and the sheriff by shifting myself in the passenger seat.

  “License and registration, please.”

  She passed them over to the sheriff. “It’s my brother’s car. I borrowed it from him. You can call him, if you do so like.”

  I wanted to place a hand over my face in embarrassment – do so like? Well, I declare, Miss Scarlett, I believe Atlanta is burning….

  “Oh yes, I remember you all too well, Miss Owens. When was your last traffic school, half a year ago, wasn’t it. I pulled you over the last time if memory serves me correctly.”

  So Karen is a speed demon. Nice to know she’d been seduced by the Dark Side.

  “I’m afraid I clocked you at 115 miles per hour. This is going to be very costly.” He pulled out his citation pad and began scribbling data from her license.

  “I might even have to call a tow truck to impound it.”

  “Please, Sheriff Driscol. I promise to drive within the speed limit. My brother and dad will kill me if you impound it. It’s Christmas.”

  He looked up from his citation pad. “Ah yes, it’s Christmas. You know, come to think of it, I haven’t yet bought a present for the missus. Unfortunately the state has decided to cut back on its budget and I haven’t gotten’ a pay raise in over four years. Those scum-sucking son-of-a-bitches in Austin.”

  I
saw what was coming. Karen saw it as well.

  “Just give me the citation and I’ll see the judge in Hamilton to pay the traffic fine.”

  “Well, then,” he said, actually scratching his balls in front of a lady. “I hope you and your friend like hitching a ride out here in the wilderness.”

  I had to interrupt him. “Hey sheriff, you just can’t leave us out here and impound the car like that.”

  The officer looked at me as if I was a venomous snake. “Well, well, what do we have here? If it ain’t the porn blogger who runs that bookstore in Hamilton.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  He again faced Karen. “Ma’am, it’s not my business to know why you two are together, but if you don’t do what I have humbly asked you to do, then it would be a cryin’ shame if that brand new book store should suddenly experience a disaster of some sort.”

  Karen turned to face me with fear in her eyes. I laughed and raised my smart phone.

  “Oh, Sheriff Driscol,” I said calmly. “It would be a cryin’ shame if I had to upload the video of this whole conversation on my ‘porn blog’ for millions to see. How would you and the ‘missus’ survive without your retirement pension after being terminated for bribery?”

  He stared at me as if I was the Devil incarnate. “You shut that thing off and give it to me now!”

  “No, sir, I have a right to record this incident.” I wasn’t sure if it was true in Texas, but it was a good bluff.

  Seconds passed – nothing happened. Driscol returned the license to Karen, as well as the citation. “Miss Owens, you still violated the traffic laws.” He returned his gaze to me once more. “Hopkins is right about you. You are a trouble maker in these parts.”

  “So, you and Bo Hopkins are buddies I see.” I could tell that he had already revealed too much information.

  He shook his head, as if in desperation. “I don’t want you to upload that video.”

  “I can gladly erase the video,” I said, “if you forgive the violation and let us off with a warning.”

  Another two seconds of deep thought. Sheriff Driscol took the citation from Karen’s hand, ripped it in half and allowed it to fly away in the wind. “I’ll be watching you carefully boy.” With that he returned to his police car and drove away.

  As we watched the car disappear toward the north. Karen reached over and gave me a hug. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  I was hoping she would kiss me, but she immediately released me and started up the Spider again. “Sheriff Driscol is as corrupt as they can be,” she said. “You’re the first person I know who’s outsmarted him at his own game.”

  I had a gut feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I would see Driscol. I decided to put it on the shelf and do my best to enjoy the rest of the day.

  About half an hour later, as we approached Austin, Karen turned off to a side road and travelled a while to Hamilton Pool Nature Reserve.

  The parking lot was empty as we drove in. We gathered our things and walked down the wooded trail until it became somewhat steep and rocky. Hamilton Pool was a jade green pool into which a 50-foot waterfall flows. The pool was surrounded by large slabs of limestone that rested by the water's edge, like vertical walls, with large stalactites growing from the ceiling high above, crowned with moss, fern and cliff swallows. There was no doubt that Hamilton Pool was one of the most beautiful sights I had seen so far in Central Texas.

  Karen stopped near one point of a cliff wall that had a breathtaking view of the pool; here we spread our blanket to eat.

  “I take it you’ve been here many times?” I asked, sitting next to her.

  She pulled open a picnic basket to take out a sandwich. “Of course, but it’s been a while; too long. I’m hungry.”

  She had packed all sorts of sandwiches and chicken pieces, even some beer. We ate voraciously since we’d driven non-stop to get here.

  Between bites she said, “Now tell me more about life in Boston and Berlin. I’ll tell you more about my life in Texas.”

  We chatted like two songbirds. I think I got to know more about her life and family during this picnic than at any time before. She was happy to hear everything about my life too as I explained as much as I could, before she laughed and interrupted me.

  “Come, let’s swim,” she said.

  “It’s too cold.”

  She stood up and unzipped the back of her dress. I was excited to watch this. She dropped her dress, revealing a beautiful red string bikini. It matched her red hair so well.

  “Don’t be a sissy boy. It’s not that cold.” She ran off toward one of the cliffs overlooking the pool. She dove in with a “Yeehaw!”

  Well, I wasn’t a sissy boy, so I changed out of my clothes and into my swim shorts. I ran up to the cliff and looked down. There was Karen, looking like a water nymph in that pool, all alone on Christmas Day.

  “It’s great,” she called out, “come in.”

  I jumped and cried out, “Yeahhh!”

  The water felt cold on impact. As I rose to get my breath again, Karen swam up and said, “You’re right, Daniel. The water is pretty cold this time of year.” She splashed water in my face. I tried to splash back but she was already swimming away from me. She was heading for a cave of some sort, so I followed.

  There were high, rocky ledges along the side of the pool and I could see the roots of massive cypress trees coming through some of them. I was feeling warmer now that I was swimming hard to catch up with her.

  Inside was a limestone grotto with a waterfall. The sunlight was making wonderful displays of rays through the roof above. Karen moved to the edge of the pool and rested on a bed of moss that was just above the surface. A sprinkle of water was running over her head. I came up and sat next to her. It was like a natural bed of grass. Soft and springy.

  “Daniel?” Karen said.

  “Yes?”

  She moved closer and held my hand. “How long have you wanted to say that you love me?” She placed her other hand on my cheek.

  “For a long time.” I reached for her cheek. I bent close to her face and kissed her. She kissed me back, very softly. She looked into my eyes for a moment. Then she rammed her lips into mine and kissed me passionately and ran her hands through my hair. I returned her kisses with the same power. Like an eternity, our mouths, lips and tongues explored each other. She arched back into the moss all the more, allowing me to move on top of her, the water slushing all around on the moss.

  I reached over and gently squeezed her breast. She sighed with pleasure and said, “They’re for you, only for you.” She unfastened her bikini top. Her breasts were small, but so beautiful, like oranges, just perfect for her lithe body. As I tasted each one, making circles around each nipple, she reached down and began to feel for me, in my swim shorts. I slipped them off and she removed her bikini bottom as well. She looked into my eyes and said, “I want you, Daniel. Oh Gawd, I want you.”

  I stroked the beautiful red hair surrounding her sex. She was open and ready for me. How I wanted her!

  “Oh, Daniel, please enter me.”

  In an instant, in that wonderful world of wetness and warmth, I was inside her and she gasped with passion. She wrapped her legs tightly around my back and drew me further in raising her hips to meet me.

  “I love you, Daniel, oh yes, yes!”

  It all happened so quickly. She screamed as she reached an orgasm that echoed across the walls of the grotto. Her excitement made me move all the faster until I lost all control and climaxed deep inside her. At last, spent and breathless we kissed and continued to fondle each other until we slipped off the moss bed and sank into deeper water. We both had to come up for air. Again we embraced and kissed each other.

  “Say that you love me, Daniel.”

  “I love you, Karen. So much.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, I love you.”

  She hugged me and I stroked her beautiful wet hair.

  “I never want to be parted fro
m you from this day onward, Daniel. You are my ultimate Christmas present.”

  “And you’re mine too, Karen.”

  This time it was I who drove Karen’s car back to Hamilton. Again at record speed and with no radar controls anywhere. It was around 3:30 when we got back to my house. The Owens wouldn’t have dinner until 6:00, which gave us time to go to my room and make love again on my bed – our bed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was New Year’s Eve. For the last few days, whenever we had dinner at her folk’s ranch, we’d always had to pretend that we were not intimate and had to sit opposite each other. The charade couldn’t last forever. Even her room mates were wondering and whispering about why she wouldn’t be back for several nights in a row. Rumors would be spreading soon, and in this conservative part of the country, no secret could possibly be kept.

  We were walking hand-in-hand along the main street of downtown Hamilton, where there were at least a few decent shops clustered on one block, when she confronted me. The heat spell had gone and true winter had come. It wasn’t as cold as in Boston but we still had to bundle up with sweaters and jackets.

  “Darling,” she said to me,, “It’s a matter of time before rumors come out about us.”

  “Then we move out of here,” I said. “How about a monastery in Tibet?”

  “I’m serious, sweetheart. Don’t you want to get married?”

  “I don’t want your father to point a shotgun at me anytime soon. Of course, my boss would love such a story.”

  She stopped on a dime in front of a jewelry store and pointed to the window, where the rings were. “Would you do me the favor, dear, before the shops close, and be a man?”

  I kissed her and placed my hands around her buttocks. “I’ve already shown you how much of a man I am.”

  “I mean it, Daniel. I want you to march in there right now and buy me an engagement ring before we go to dinner with my parents. I want us to tell them together, on New Year’s Eve.”

  She then returned my kiss with full passion and saliva and tongue and all, as well as her hand feeling between my legs. I wondered if anybody was watching us.