Fine Chocolate
Nowadays, folks don't take any notice at all. They're part of the town, part of the fabric that makes our town what it is. Of course, it wasn't always that way. Mind you, I didn't see all of this, but I did a lot of it, and heard enough stories from those that did, including them, to know what happened and what didn't.
Back in '74 it was, late September, early October. I was just a kid then, though my mom still thinks I am. Anyway, it just happened, seemed like one day he arrived along with a gust of leaves blown by the winds coming down from the mountains west of town, towing a trailer with two horses, and the next day he rented the old Peterson Bakery on the square, and the day after that he put up a new sign over the plate glass window, "Del Mar's Fine Chocolate," and in the lower corner of the big window, "E. Del Mar, Prop."
My mom and the ladies in the ladies' auxiliary at the Methodist Church clucked their tongues at the handsome young man with the two adorable young girls, abandoned when their mother divorced him and ran off with the grocer man in Riverton. My dad and the other men in the rancher's association clucked their tongues at the guy who'd rather work in a kitchen making candy than doing real work, like riding fence or castrating calves or running a hay baler. My sister and I stared at the new kids in our classes, but remembering what mom said, sat with them at lunch and introduced them to our friends, who turned up their noses a bit at anyone who lived over a shop instead of in a real house.
Not too many people ventured into Del Mar's that first month. So Ennis [that's his name, Ennis Del Mar] took a part-time job as a ranch hand on Stoutamire's place over on Dry Creek Road, where he boarded his horses. Mike Stoutamire came to appreciate Ennis' knowledge of ranching and quiet way of getting the job done. And Bob Kinder appreciated the business of making candy molds from the wax figures Ennis carved. And Miss Vivian [that's Vivian McPherson, her son Tom owns the movie house], newly widowed, appreciated being hired to come in every afternoon during the week, to tend house and fix dinner and watch Junior and Francie [that's their names, Ennis' two little girls, though Junior's real name is Alma, after her momma]. She had nothing but praise for how Ennis loved those girls of his, and nothing but a frown for the woman who left them behind.
Like I said, not too many people bought Ennis' candy that first month. But as Halloween approached, we kids pressed our noses against the window, in wonder at the delights displayed there. Witches, and black cats, and skulls, and ghosts. And at Thanksgiving, the window overflowed with turkeys and pilgrims and Indians and even an ear of corn with different colors of chocolate as the kernels. And at Christmas, the display of wreaths and Santa Claus and angels and snowmen and even a manger with Jesus, Mary and Joseph took this young kid's breath away. And when Mrs. Banks, the mayor's wife, proclaimed Del Mar's to be the best chocolate she'd ever tasted, and served it at her Christmas Open House, well, that sealed the deal, as they say. From then on business picked up a little at a time.
Even so, a few naysayers kept on talking Ennis down for running a candy shop. Especially the Aguirres. They had that sheep operation on government land over on the slopes of Brokeback Mountain, that's the big mountain in the middle over to the west of town, right over there, see? Place is long gone now. Never could understand why they were so mean, guess some people are born that way. Shoulda known they'd spell trouble, the way they treated anyone new or different.
Well, winter gave way to Spring, which gave way to Summer. At Easter the window of Del Mar's Fine Chocolate held eggs of all sizes and many colors, bunnies standing up and lying down, and even baskets made of chocolate. We kids decided that's what we wanted in our baskets come Easter Sunday, and sure enough the Easter bunny must have been listening 'cause that's what my sister and I got.
But the best candy of all was what Ennis called the "Sweet Life," dark chocolate outside, not quite square, not quite round, with two lines running down the top, white chocolate dyed a deep shade of blue inside, a few walnuts pieces mixed in, and in the center, a tiny bit of whiskey. Um, umm! My mom and dad wouldn't let me have any, once they found out about the whiskey. But Ennis took pity on me once in awhile, slipped me one when they weren't around. Asked him once about any secret ingredient that made it so good, and he smiled and whispered, "love."
That following June, after school let out and before the hot summer nights began, he arrived with a flotilla of houseboats pushed downriver by the last surge of run-off from the high mountainsides. They tied up along the river bank downslope from City Hall, and set up tables and chairs and strings of overhead lights, and played music that drew a crowd. Next day, a Friday it was, I headed through town to meet my best friend, Nate, and go fishing. I saw this guy, knew he had to be from the boat group, sure wasn't from around here, walking towards me holding the hand of young boy [his son, Bobby, I found out later], when he just stopped and stared at Del Mar's shop. He asked me who owned the place, and I pointed at the corner of the big window and told him Ennis Del Mar, and he had the best-tasting chocolate in the world, and he should try some. He smiled and thanked me and they went inside, and Nate and I had a great time swimming and fishing that afternoon.
Well, not too much after that, Miss Vivian arrived to start her afternoon. She opened the back door, stopped, and slowly, quietly closed the door. She thought about what she had seen, Ennis and a another handsome man about his age with dark hair, locked in an embrace, rocking slightly, Ennis crying and rubbing his hands on the back of the other man and murmuring softly "little darling," the other man just holding on tight and saying over and over "sonofabitch, sonofabitch." Once she'd gotten her composure back, she made a show of rattling the doorknob and calling out hello as she reopened that door. This time, they were standing next to each other, eyes puffy, so nervous she could feel the floorboards vibrating. Ennis introduced Miss Vivian to his best friend, Jack Twist, just arrived with the group of boats, hadn't seen him in nearly four years, and his son Bobby was upstairs with the girls. Miss Vivian smiled into eyes as blue as a late summer's evening sky, and turned to smile into eyes the color of the confections their owner made so well, and just said in that case she'd make extra for dinner.
Now Miss Vivian's no fool, and by the time she left just before dinner, she'd figured things out. Ennis met her at the bottom of the stairs, having locked the front door of the shop and closed up for the night, and was surprised when Miss Vivian took his hand in both of hers and looked him straight in the eye, and told him everyone deserved to be loved, and then kissed him on the cheek and whispered that he had as good taste in men as he did in chocolate. Pulling away he stood stock still as she smiled at him and told him that it was nobody's business but theirs, but to be careful, and she'd see him Monday afternoon as usual.
After that, it just happened, when the lights came down and the other boats moved on down the river, Jack's stayed tied up. Seemed like the next day Jack had rented the place next door to Del Mar's, and the day after that he put up a new sign over the plate glass window, "Twist's Blue Water Adventures," and in the lower corner of the big window, "J. Twist, Prop." Didn't find out until later he'd bought the building, made Fred Ambrose promise not to say anything for the time being. But I'm getting ahead of the story.
Once again my mom and the ladies in the women's auxiliary at the Methodist Church clucked their tongues at the handsome young man with the young son, abandoned when his mother divorced his dad to marry some farm equipment dealer way down in Texas. My dad and the other men in the rancher's association clucked their tongues at the guy who'd rather spend time on the river than doing real work, like riding fence or castrating calves or running a hay baler, until they found out he'd spent three years riding bulls on the Texas rodeo circuit and had some buckles to prove it. My sister and I stared at the new kid in Summer Bible School, but remembering what mom said, sat with him and the Del Mar girls at lunch and introduced him to our friends, who still turned up their noses a bit at anyone who lived over a shop instead of in a real house.
Miss Vivian gladly took on the job housekeeping for Jack, but only on the condition that she got to take care of Bobby, too. Miss Vivian had taught fourth grade "back in the day," as she liked to say, and recognized Bobby needed help with his reading. So all three kids ended up at one place or the other or both every day, and ran back and forth to the other place to get something or other, up and down the stairs, all the time, until one day Miss Vivian allowed as how there oughta be a door between the two places like in a hotel. Jack and Ennis looked at each other, nodded their heads in agreement, and that weekend installed a door with dead bolts on both sides, though they hardly ever used them. Sometimes the kids wanted a sleepover by themselves or with some friends, so Ennis and Jack gave them their privacy in one place and stayed in the other with the door closed.
Folks got used to seeing the two of them around town together, working on Jack's big boat and the new smaller ones, helping out in each other's store, grocery shopping, playing with the kids in the park, having breakfast at the Riverview Café, sitting in the same pew every Sunday at the Methodist Church, though Jack said his momma had raised him Pentecostal. Some of the ladies whispered about them maybe being too close, if you get my drift. Miss Vivian had a few things to say to those ladies, about how fortunate Ennis and Jack were to have such a good friend to rely on, kinda like Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Taylor, which quieted things down considerably. Pretty soon, no one took much notice, or so we thought.
Business being slow that first summer, Jack took a part-time job with the Aguirre's herding sheep in the low pastures between trips on the river. Night before he started, Ennis warned him to be careful with the Aguirres, and Jack smiled back and just lay there in Ennis' caring arms. Jack had to sleep overnight in a tent some nights, and Bobby spent those nights with the Del Mars, with the door open between their places.
As that summer wound down, in late August Joe Aguirre [he was the dad, we kids called him Mr. Frowny Face behind his back, 'cause he never smiled at anyone, ever] told Jack his Basque herder had come down with some kind of illness or other which left them short-handed and he needed Jack to ride up to the high pasture, round up the herd and bring it down early, and asked if he knew anyone who needed a week's work. Jack volunteered Ennis, and two days later the two of them drove up to the drop-off point and rode up the mountain, leaving a sign in each window reading "Gone Fishing", and leaving the three kids in the capable hands and arms of Miss Vivian and Tom. I hung around, too, wanting to spend time with Junior, though I'd have never said so and have denied it if you asked me.
The week passed too quickly, like the rest of summer when you're a kid, and before we knew it Ennis and Jack were home hugging their kids and thanking Miss Vivian for taking such good care of them, and smiling as always. But something nagged at Miss Vivian, something was wrong, the smiles didn't reach their eyes. Ennis was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers, and Jack looked like he had lost his best friend. She cornered Jack over in his kitchen, and flat out demanded to know. He blushed and hesitated, but decided to trust her with his life as he already did with his son's life. After checking to see if the Ennis or kids were listening, he told her what happened when Joe had paid them off that morning. Joe had sat behind his desk in that moldy trailer of his tapping on his 10x42 binoculars, and told them that the count wasn't good, and he'd deducted some from their paychecks since he only paid for the time they were tending sheep and not when they were "stemming the rose," and Jack had demanded their full pay, and Ennis had dragged him out of the office with Joe shouting at them from the door, and now Ennis was freaked out, sure that Joe and his friends would be coming after them with tire irons, and insisted they had to pack and leave but Jack refused to be run out.
Miss Vivian sat him down at the table, and got a soda from the fridge and, with a little coaxing though I think it was also with some relief on his part to finally let it out, Miss Vivian got Jack to tell her the whole story, how he and Ennis had met, parted, met again, parted again, always Ennis afraid of what would happen to Jack if "people" found out about their feelings for each other, and Jack finally having enough and walking away after a shouting match, Alma divorcing Ennis after getting pregnant by the grocery store owner she worked for, Jack's wife finding out about the two of them and divorcing him and telling him to take his son with him 'cause she didn't want any reminders of the queer who'd tricked her into getting married, and Jack searching for Ennis and finally unexpectedly finding him here. Only to lose him again, Jack was sure.
At that point, Bobby and the girls walked into the kitchen asking what was for dinner. Jack asked Junior about her dad, and she told Jack he sent them over and left, saying something about needing to see a man about a horse. Jack went pale, told the kids to stay with Miss Vivian, and ran down the stairs. Ennis' truck was gone. Jack jumped into his, and headed west towards Stoutamire's place and Ennis. He took a shortcut down the dirt road and across the old bridge above Casey's Crossing, but on the stretch near the meadows his left rear tire went soft, nearly sending him into the drainage ditch.
Cursing a blue streak, and not bothering to hold back tears of frustration, he got out the jack and tire iron and worked on changing the tire. He was arguing out loud with a recalcitrant lug nut, when another truck came barreling down the road from the opposite direction, screeching to a stop in a cloud of dust flung around by the early evening breeze. Jack's heart started thumping something fierce when out stepped Joe and two of his boys. The looks they gave him didn't raise any hope of help changing the tire, more like not to bother 'cause he'd never be changing one again. He backed away as they approached three abreast, casting long shadows in the rough dirt, each of the boys holding something long and metal. When Joe reached down and picked up the tire iron from where Jack had dropped it, he turned and fled across the meadow. But his bootheel caught a gopher hole, and he went down hard, hurting his ankle.
He managed to turn over onto his back, and kinda crab-walked backwards away from them, but it wasn't any use. The first blow got his right leg, the second his raised arm, the third his back across the shoulders, and the fourth? Well, Joe pushed Jack onto his back so he would see, curled his lip, called Jack a dirty fag and said this is what happens to dirty fags, raised the tire iron above his head, and swung. Jack closed his eyes, and prayed to God that He would watch over Ennis for him. The tire iron woulda broke his skull had it hit, but it missed.
Jack heard a loud noise, felt something wet spatter across his face, and opened his eyes in time to see Joe fall across him. He gave Jack a funny look, coughed up some blood, and never frowned at any one again, ever. Jack looked over at Joe's boys with their hands in the air, and followed their frightened stares to see Ennis running up with a smoking shotgun in his hands, followed closely by Tom and my dad, pistols in hand. Last thing he remembered was Ennis bending down and touching his cheek, saying "it's alright, Bud, you're gonna be alright, I'm never leaving you again," before he passed out from the pain and shock. Later on Jack told Ennis about a dream he had, hovering above both of them out in that field, the breeze laying ripples in the tall grass, watching Ennis cradle him gently in his arms, and rock him slowly back and forth until the ambulance and Sheriff got there. Ennis told him that's just what happened, and they both felt like God had given them a second chance so they had better not screw it up this time.
Three days later, Ennis brought Jack home from the hospital to a relieved set of children and a teary Miss Vivian. To the surprise of both of them, Miss Vivian and the kids had moved Ennis' things into Jack's room, and Bobby's things into Ennis' old room, one combined household now and forever. The ladies auxiliary, headed up by my mom who brooked no objections, made sure they didn't have to cook a single dinner for the next five weeks, until Jack got his casts off, and Miss Vivian continued to come every afternoon during the week just like clockwork. My dad and Tom and some other guys helped Ennis haul Jack's boats out of the river, and set them on blocks in the garage building behind the stores.
The County Coroner ruled Joe's death justifiable homicide, and the district attorney refused to press charges against Ennis, 'cause after all, he only did what anyone else woulda done in the same circumstances. The Sheriff arrested Joe's two boys on charges of assault with intent to kill and conspiracy to commit murder, and the Grand Jury indicted them on the same charges after hearing testimony from Jack, Ennis, my dad, Tom and lots of other people. Trial never happened, though. Joes' boys pleaded guilty to everything, in return for life without possibility of parole. The older one died in prison last year, the younger one's still there.
Adam McFetridge, Quincy's middle boy, the attorney, filed a lawsuit on Jack's behalf against Joe's estate, and won a handsome bit of cash. Turned out the estate was broke, so Jack ended up owning Joe's ranch and everything on it. He and Ennis renamed it the Circle JE, got rid of the sheep, and tore down Joe's house and built a new one on another spot with a view of Brokeback Mountain from the living room. They still live out there, over thirty years now, running their high-end cow and calf operation, selling their cattle over the internet to buyers all over the country, and raising some of the best cow ponies this side of the Mississippi.
Jack got elected to the town council three times, and sat behind the mayor's desk two terms after that. Ennis wanted nothing of the limelight, liked standing in back, still does, and had to be dragged to the chamber of commerce dinners and swearing-in ceremonies. But he did go willingly with Jack to the state capitol ten years ago, when the state rancher's association named their place ranch operation of the year. Even stayed with Jack in the same room at the Marriot, with a single king-sized bed and a Jacuzzi tub. The award's still on the mantle over the fireplace in the office at the ranch.
Junior runs Del Mar's Fine Chocolate now with her oldest, Grace, named after her grandma. Ennis comes in a couple of days a week to help out, and carves figures for the chocolate molds. They still make the best chocolate in the county, and "Sweet Life" won blue ribbons four years in a row at the state fair.
Bobby runs Twist's Blue Water Adventures with his and Francie's two boys, Henry and Jacob. They live over the two stores, all redone into a great big place. Last year Bobby and his boys took a group of high-rollers from Los Angeles on a week's trip, starting way up north, and ending right here in town, polished off a raft full of beer in the process, too.
So what I'm getting at, boy, is you're fairly new in town and nice enough, I can tell what my daughter sees in you. But if you intend to keep coming around and dating her, then you'd best have shed any ideas you might have about it being wrong for two men to be in love and make a life together. 'Cause it just isn't anybody's business but theirs. And my Gracie and her brothers don't take kindly to anyone who even thinks anything bad about their grandpas, take after their mother that way. You see, my Junior isn't shy about dressing down anyone who makes any kind of snide remark about her two fathers. Same goes for me.
The End