“He did at first. And I ignored every…red…flag.”
Jewel was silent a moment. “He tried to isolate you from us, you know that, right?”
Trudy scratched her nose. “I’m sorry I put y’all through that hell.”
“Did he ever lay a hand on you?”
Heat surged through her body. She snatched up the album cover off the coffee table and fanned herself. Oh, Momma! There are so many different ways to get manhandled.
While Trudy searched for a way to explain, Zia let out a loud yawn and scrambled to her feet and left the room. Trudy’s gaze followed her until she disappeared around a corner.
It would be easier to follow Zia into the other room and not have to face her mother’s probing questions.
How could she explain to her mother — or anyone for that matter — how Preston began to operate on her when she reached her mid-thirties? It started so subtly, those sweet nothings in her ear. She’d be standing in front of a mirror getting dressed or stepping out of the pool when he’d come up behind her and run his hands along the contours of her body. He’d start with her eyes and work his way down. At first she found his behavior arousing. But over time his whispers turned into “a little nip here, a little tuck there. That’s all it’ll take to keep you fresh and looking like a ten.”
And that’s when she realized he’d been sculpting her with his hands.
Finally, she gestured at the bride and groom in the photo. “Preston wanted me to go under the knife. He had all these plans to keep me looking as young as that impressionable girl in the photo.”
Jewel shuddered. “Knowing him, he wanted to use you as his practice dummy.”
Trudy flinched. She didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted by her mother’s comment. “The more I resisted his scalpel, the more resentful he became. It’s like he couldn’t quite forgive me for aging.”
“But Trudy, you’re dodging my question. Did he ever hit you?”
The more her mother pushed, the faster Trudy fanned herself with the album. Clay’s question rolled through her mind: What did that guy do to you? It was one thing to admit it to Clay, but for some reason, she felt a need to protect her mother from the truth.
“Momma, for the record, mostly I put up with mental and verbal abuse. Let’s say sometimes it takes longer for those scars to heal. He put down my job, my friends. Every time I came home from a trip, he questioned my every move. He said the only reason I kept flying was to screw all the crewmembers.
“When my biological clock started ticking, I told Preston I wanted a baby. Every time I brought up the subject, he tried to convince me that a child would interfere with our lifestyle. He even joked, ‘I’m raising you. What do I need with a baby?’ So when I turned thirty-five, I’d had enough. But instead of divorcing him like I should have, I stopped taking my birth control pills and quit smoking. The day I told him I was pregnant that last time, he pleaded with me to get an abortion.”
“He was probably hoping you’d miscarry — like the other times,” Jewel said quietly.
Something inside of her broke free. “Momma, the night I went into labor, he was pissed that I’d interrupted his cocktail and paperwork. I’ll never forget how he clenched his jaw when he looked up at me as I stood in the doorway of his study, doubled over in pain. I was in the middle of a contraction and needed to get to the hospital.”
Jewel rubbed the side of her neck. “Did he drink every night?”
Trudy shook her head, irritated at the interruption. Still fanning herself, she began to pace the length of the living room. “Only when he wasn’t on call or scheduled for surgery the next day. He was extremely regimented.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose as that awful night tumbled through her mind. “Preston stared straight through me like he had two glass eyes. When he finally rose and came around his desk, he walked right past me like he was in a daze. Out in the entryway, he picked up my overnight bag — you’d think it weighed a ton — and headed for the garage. Before he disappeared around the corner, he said, ‘Meet me out front.’”
“Out front?” Jewel growled. “You mean he left you standing there…?”
Trudy swallowed the knot at the back of her throat. “It was already dark and the security lights were on by the time I got to the front door. I was halfway down the steps when he pulled the Hummer around and rushed to help. It’s like it finally dawned on him that I was going to have a baby. As I went to navigate the second to last step, my knees buckled and my legs went out from under me.”
She closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the horror registering in her mother’s soft blue eyes. She could hear her mother swallow as if her throat was constricted.
In a voice thick with pain, Jewel asked, “Darling, are you saying you fell? Or did Preston trip you?”
Trudy’s eyes fluttered open. Her chest squeezed as she gazed at her mother and shrugged. “I’ll never know for sure, Momma. He claims he tried to catch me.” She paused and blew out a lungful of air. “But he said I was too cumbersome.”
“Cum-ber-some?” Her mother scowled and repeated the word like she’d bitten into something sour.
“I gained seventy pounds,” Trudy explained. She didn’t mention all the times he called her a fat cow or the time he changed all the locks while she was on a trip.
“And you lost every ounce of it and more,” her mother countered, sitting up straighter.
Biting the side of her mouth, Trudy continued, “After he helped me into the Hummer, he cursed all the way to the hospital. By the time we pulled into the ER, he was calm, cool, and collected. The celebrated Dr. Vanderwell once again. They wheeled me right into delivery…but the baby was already in distress…” She broke off, continuing to fan her face.
Her mother gazed at her. “And all this time I thought the complications stemmed from you giving birth later in life.”
Trudy clutched the record album against her chest. “There was nothing wrong with the baby until I went down.”
Her mother sat in stunned silence. After a long pause, Trudy mentioned seeing the two girls in pink coats playing in front of the mansion a few weeks ago.
Jewel’s whole body went rigid. Her eyes watered as she began to crumple the wedding photo back and forth in both hands like she was forming a meatball. The sound of crinkled paper filled the room. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “My darling girl” — she shook her fist in the air and tossed the balled-up photo across the room — “if I ever see Preston Vanderwell again, I’ll knock his teeth out.”
Trudy retrieved the photo and tossed it in the trash. “Then he’ll be the one needing cosmetic surgery.”
Stepping out onto the front porch a short time later, Trudy beat the Navajo blanket against the side of the house. She held her breath as decades of dust flew through the cold air, along with Aunt Star’s silence and thoughts of Preston. Back in the house, she stashed the Herb Alpert album with the other LPs and closed the lid to the stereo. As she smoothed the Indian blanket in place over the console, she heard Zia lapping water from her dish.
“That’s a happy sound,” her mother remarked, gesturing toward the kitchen. “When you get a chance, can you play us another Herb Alpert tune? Something snappy.”
“Something snappy, huh?” Scanning her smartphone, Trudy grinned when she came to a title she hadn’t thought about in years. “Hey, Momma, remember this jingle from the TV commercial?”
Trudy hit the play button.
“The Teaberry Shuffle,” Jewel chortled as she did a jig about the room as if she were eight and not approaching eighty. “What I’d give for a stick of that gum about now.”
Zia trotted into the room, water dribbling from her chin. Once again, she leapt upward, her front paw reaching for Trudy.
“You’re my secret agent, aren’t you, girl?” Trudy whispered as she and Zia began to shuffle this way and that. When Trudy glanced into Zia’s face, she was greeted by hot doggy breath and a mouthful of teeth. “Lo
ok, Momma. Zia’s smilin’.”
Jewel leaned against the recliner, catching her breath. “That’s my granddogger.” Her eyes twinkled and her smile concealed any disappointment that her two daughters had failed to give her grandchildren to spoil. “Darling, don’t take this the wrong way,” she shouted over the din of music, “but after talking about you know who earlier, I’m so glad you took your maiden name back. Trudy Vanderwell always sounded a bit pretentious to me — sometimes you flitted around like a girl puttin’ on airs.”
Trudy’s jaw dropped. “So, you’re saying I acted like a fake?”
Her mother gave her an exaggerated nod and rubbed at something on the back of the chair. “Sorta like the time you got your first training bra and stuffed it with dime store falsies. Remember?”
Trudy flung her head back and snorted. “Of course I remember, Momma. You told half the family.”
Her mother chuckled and pushed away from the recliner. “Only your Aunt Star. Okay, well, maybe your Grandma Lily, too, but she was pretty much deaf by then.”
Shaking her head, Trudy rolled her eyes and regarded Zia’s canine grin, how her mouth sprung open exposing a wedge of pink tongue and teeth. “Oh, so you think it’s funny, too, huh, girl?”
Jewel made a beeline for the hallway. “I better run to the potty before I pee my pants.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder at the last second. “Oh, honey, you were so afraid you wouldn’t grow boobies.”
Boobies! The word hung in the air long after her mother left the room. Her mind whirling, she gazed into Zia’s trusting eyes and remembered. She’d been so naïve back then, so impatient for puberty. Once it hit, she’d learned that a trim but curvy figure could take a young woman far in life, but it could also bring unwanted advances.
Her first lesson had been that fateful night in nineteen seventy-four: Whew-wee, show me your titties…
It continued when she began flying. When Trudy was a new hire, one tipsy male passenger thought it was his God-given right to slap her behind every time she passed by his aisle seat. He’d wink and whisper, “Nice buns and melons, hon.” Unlike Aunt Star, who’d been too afraid to report Dub’s assault, Trudy worked up the courage to notify the captain. When the plane landed, a ramp supervisor and a security guard met them at the gate and Trudy identified the passenger. As the guy was hauled off in handcuffs, he snarled at Trudy, “Bitch! You’re asking for it in that skimpy uniform.”
Aunt Star was right about one thing, Trudy thought, they’ll try to blame it on us. They always do.
Swaying to the beat of the music, Trudy banished the sting of the man’s insult from her memory. She concentrated on the feel of Zia’s left paw resting in her right hand. “I bet you had to fend off your share of doggy dicks, huh, girl?”
Zia smacked her lips and snapped her jaws together as if she were speaking.
“I’ll take that as a yes, girl. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”
When the song ended, Zia collapsed on the floor, panting. Trudy’s phone pinged with a new text. She snatched it up, not knowing if it was from Aunt Star or her sister: Looks like Miss Zia won the dance contest! ;) A girl after my own heart. Give her a kiss from her Aunt Georgia. I can’t wait to meet her. On other matters, I sent Aunt Star a text and told her to contact you. Said it was urgent. Ref a certain pair of men’s eyeglasses.
Later, after Trudy took Zia out back to potty, Aunt Star finally returned her text. As Trudy scanned over the message, she stumbled toward the low plaster wall and plunked down on one of the bancos. Bending over her phone, she tried to slow her breathing, but with each word, her heart pumped faster in her chest: Come to Las Vegas this weekend. We’re long overdue for some girl talk. As much as I’d love to see that handsome boyfriend of yours again after all these years, best to come alone. You’ve heard the old saying: What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. That applies here. ;) You know I’d do anything for you and your sister. I’ve always tried to watch over you girls. Please dispose of the eyeglasses pronto! No need to worry your momma about this while she’s waiting to hear back from the Air Force.
Trudy closed her eyes, Dub’s eyeglasses tucked safely in the pocket of her cardigan. Instead of throwing them away, she would ignore her aunt’s request. Sometimes the victors of a battle kept war trophies.
CHAPTER 23
The Dating Game
BEFORE SHE left the house the next evening to drive into town, Trudy bent down and cupped Zia’s face in her hands. “I’m going to spend time with Clay, the nice man who helped rescue you.”
Zia blinked, thumping her tail wildly.
Trudy giggled. “I’m glad you approve, now listen. I need you to help me be brave. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on this kind of date with a man. You know, we might get nakey.”
The dog tilted her head and gave Trudy a thoughtful look. Then she licked her lips, sat on her haunches, and stuck out her front paw.
Trudy flattened her palm against Zia’s rough pads; her claws still nubs from her homeless days roaming the plains. “Your travelin’ days are over, aren’t they, girl?” Glancing at the gash where Zia’s right leg had been, Trudy reached down and gently inspected the area. “Despite missing a limb, you’ve sure learned to compensate. Be a good girl and keep Momma company. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Kissing the top of Zia’s head, she turned to leave when Jewel entered the kitchen and cleared her throat. “Darling, I take it you’re spending the night?”
Trudy bit her lip. “I’ll be back in time to take Zia out for her morning ritual and feed her breakfast.”
Her mother reached for the edge of the counter and picked up a copper watering can. “No need to rush. I’m quite capable of taking care of her. After all, I raised three children, much of that time on my own while your father was away on Air Force business.” Turning on the tap, she filled the can with water and called to Zia, “Come on, girl. Let’s go water plants. Trudy has a hot date.”
Right before Jewel disappeared through the archway, she turned. “Don’t forget I’m meeting Hector this weekend to pick out appliances. You’re welcome to join us.”
Trudy twisted the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder. “Momma, about that. I’m going to see Aunt Star and Georgia this weekend. I know it’s last minute, but…”
Jewel’s mouth sprung open. “Oh.” Trudy could tell her mother was trying to hide her disappointment that she hadn’t been invited. She scratched at something in her ear and looked down at the dog. “Are you taking Zia?”
“I was hoping you would watch her. If it’s not too much trouble.”
Holding the watering can by the handle, Jewel balanced it in her other palm and turned to leave. “Trouble? Are you kidding me? I love having Zia here. She’s like having another person to talk to.”
Trudy called to Zia, “Come here, girl.” She knelt down and gave her one last hug and whispered in her ear, “Don’t go digging up any more buried treasures while I’m gone.”
Alone in Clay’s master bath, Trudy gazed at herself in the mirror. Her hair tumbled luxuriously past her bare shoulders, thanks to conditioner for mature hair and a blow dryer on low heat. Turning this way and that way, she decided she was in good shape for a woman her age. She had all four limbs, her own set of teeth, and good health.
Smiling coyly, she picked up her cellphone, scrolled quickly through her playlist, and pressed Herb Alpert’s “Lollipops and Roses,” the saucy tune that played on The Dating Game at the end of the show when the bachelor and bachelorette finally met face to face.
Heat fired through her loins as she strutted out of the bathroom and saw Clay waiting for her on the bed, the sheets pulled back exposing his brown chest and arms. Trudy recognized he was no longer her high school sweetheart, but a full-grown man. Earlier, she’d found a vile of Viagra left out on the countertop, possibly Clay’s subtle message that he was no longer as young as he used to be. A bottle of personal lubricant sat on the nightstand. He’d thought of everythi
ng.
“That’s some birthday suit you’re wearing.” He tossed his head back and grinned at her playfulness, at the instant recognition of a popular tune they’d grown up with.
Trudy had never felt so sexy, so free in her own skin.
Sashaying across the room, adorned in nothing but light makeup and coral nail polish, she tossed her phone onto the bed and stood before him, biting the tip of her finger like the girl on the cover of Whipped Cream. Clay’s eyes filled with wonder as he held out his arm for her to join him. She twirled and fell laughing into his arms as the song ended.
They took their time, no longer rushed, two lovers no longer worried about being caught. Finding pleasure in each other’s arms, they joined together as one.
Later, as they snuggled and talked, Trudy felt content in his arms, the rhythm of his heartbeat reassuring as she played with the silvery hairs on his chest.
Clay shifted on his side, propping up on one elbow. “Got a question for you.”
Spent from lovemaking, she didn’t even flinch. “What’s that, Detective?” She yawned, feeling lazy and satiated.
“Wanna go steady?” He looped his fingers through hers. “Like when we were kids?” His question was so endearing, his expression tender.
Her head on the pillow, she gazed up at him. “You better clear it with Hercules first. Doesn’t he have a say in the matter?” She gestured toward the living room where they’d left Hercules propped on his pillow, keeping guard.
Clay chuckled. “Little Man approves, trust me.” He waggled his brows. “Why don’t we get the dogs together this weekend? Make sure they get along.”
She hadn’t told him yet that she was going out of town.
“Clay” — she hesitated — “I’m going to visit Aunt Star and Georgia. Momma said she’d watch Zia for me.”
Clay didn’t say anything for a second. “Do you want me to come with you? I can get my neighbor to look after Hercules.”
She searched his face, seeing his goodness. He was everything she’d hungered for. Handsome, sexy, steady…and yet, if she let her guard down too soon…
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