Author's Note:
This chapter will forever be known at the Chapter Of Nothing but
Intense Long Conversations That Nearly Killed the Author. Holy crap.
And I'm sorry, but it's another chapter without any direct J/E
interaction, but there's definitely lots of them thinking of each
other, and others discussing them! My thanks to
I also admit to having some fears about going over
the top with the religious-nut variety of conversation that is
present in this chapter. I know in my head that there are people who
talk like this, because I've heard them, but I guess the writer in me
finds so much of the rhetoric cheesy and overblown that it's hard to
write it, even if I know that the person speaking really believes it.
I just find it hard to accept that anyone really talks like that,
although I know that sadly, they do.
Jack was speechless. He could hear Ennis in his head: Imagine that, the flappin lips a Jack Twist finally still n silent. I'm gonna call the fuckin paper. All he could do was nod, and stand aside to let Francine enter, and shove down the panic that was rising in his throat. He shut the door behind her and stood there, trying to look at ease, while she crossed the room and sat down in the desk chair as if she belonged there, crossing her legs demurely at the knee and watching him with a flat, analytical gaze. She'd introduced herself as if they were strangers, which he supposed they had become given her recent ideological shift.
He made himself move and sit on the edge of the bed facing her. She was just looking at him, like she was in biology class dissecting an earthworm and couldn't quite make out what she was seeing. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her, struggling to see in the ramrod-stiff young woman before him some traces of the girl he'd last seen only a year before, when she'd visited the ranch the previous Christmas. It was amazing how much a young girl could change in such a short time. She'd sprouted a few inches and lost about twenty pounds. Her hair was different, her clothes were different, and the glasses were new. Cain't believe I didn't even recognize her. Still hardly do. "Well, Francie," he finally said. "Your mother don't know you're here, does she?"
She shook her head. "Course not."
"How'd you know where ta find me?"
"I listened in when you called her yesterday. Said you was at the Holiday Inn."
He nodded, dismissing this little bit of espionage. "So, uh…what're you doin here, if you don't mind my askin?"
She opened her mouth, then reconsidered and shut it again. She was holding her handbag across her lap, her fingers laced over it. She sighed. "Guess I jus wanted ta have a look at you with the scales off my eyes."
"You've seen me before."
"Not for awhile. I learned a few things since then."
He tried on one of his most charming smiles, but it felt stiff and phony on his face. He spread his arms and shrugged. "Well, now you seen me. Were you thinkin I'd be some kinda monster now? As you can see, I ain't."
Francine took a deep breath and let it out. "Reverend says that when you meet the Devil, he will smile n shake your hand…and he will be pleasin to the eye and the senses."
"So I'm the Devil now, is that it?"
"I dunno, you tell me," she said, her eyes flashing with emotion for the first time.
"I'm just a man tryin ta make his way in the world, darlin," he said.
"Don't call me that!" she snapped.
"I'm sorry, you're right," he said gently, feeling his way. "If you don't wanna talk ta me, that's okay. But I surely wish that you'd talk ta yer daddy. Y'know it breaks his heart that you won't speak ta him, and whatever makes him sad, well, I wanna fix it for him."
"You wanna fix it?" she repeated. "When it's yer doin I ain't got no daddy?"
Jack's jaw clenched, but he didn't react to her accusation, moving past it to the more important part of her statement. "You do have a daddy, Francine, and he loves you very much and misses you. I know you've got some different ideas since we saw each other last, but there ain't no reason ta cut him off like yer doin. It ain't gonna change nothin, and it's jus hurtin him, and you too."
Francine was shaking her head. "Don't talk ta me like ya know me, Mr. Twist."
"You used ta call me Jack."
"You don't know me. Don't tell me what I oughta do or how I oughta feel!"
"You wanna tell me how ya feel, then?"
She shut her eyes and laced her fingers tight together. "My father's livin in sin and perversion and it's cause a you. My parents broke the vows they took before God cause a you."
Jack sighed. "You can blame me fer that if you want, that's okay. Jus don't take it out on yer daddy. Won't ya jus talk ta him?"
"I ain't got nothin ta say ta him."
"Now, Junior told me that you wanted ta save him."
She looked to the side and blinked, and Jack thought he saw the shine of tears at her eyelids, but when she turned back it was gone. "I hadta see what I'd be savin him from…if he ain't already beyond savin, that is."
"My pastor says ain't no one's beyond savin."
That seemed to give her pause. "You got a pastor?"
"Sure. Yer dad n me go ta church every Sunday. We just never usedta go when you girls was visitin, cause it was a different church than you was used to."
"But…they let you through the door? What kinda church is it?"
"We're Methodists."
"Guess they don't care about sin, then."
"They do. They just say that we all sin, and it's part a bein human, and we're forgiven."
"Ta be forgiven ya gotta repent! Do you repent, Jack? Are ya sorry? Do ya beg forgiveness for givin in ta them unnatural urges ya feel? Do ya pray ta God ta make you right again? Do ya do everythin ya can ta drive that sin outta yourself?" she said. Jack could see a zealot's light coming into her eyes as she lit into him. It didn't look like it belonged there, but then again, to his mind a light like that didn't belong anywhere.
"Francie…God made me the way I am," Jack said, speaking as calmly as he could. He would not get into a shouting match with Ennis's daughter, he simply would not. "I believe that with all my heart. And I believe that God made yer daddy and me jus right fer each other, and that he brought us together and wants us ta be happy."
She looked incredulous that he'd even suggest such a thing. She shut her eyes again and bowed her head. "'Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.' Leviticus 18:22."
Jack nodded. "'Honor thy father and thy mother.'"
She met his eyes. "'And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee.' Matt 5:29."
"'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"
Francine was almost shaking. Jack regretted having engaged her at all. She was clinging to those verses to guide her, and he was turning them against her. Would it have killed him to just sit there and take whatever Biblical verse she wanted to throw at him? It seemed to him that there was one for any occasion. "How dare you," she hissed. "How dare you use the words of our Lord to justify yourself?"
"I don't claim ta justify, Francie."
"You are evil, jus like the Reverend says," she said, quietly. "Ya turned my daddy against God n took him away, ya made my mamma break her holy vows, y'even got ta my sister, but y'ain't gettin ta me, ya hear?" An edge of panic crept into her voice, as if this was her greatest fear…that she'd succumb to whatever wiles he supposedly possessed that had taken her father and sister away; that she'd be tempted into tolerance of his ungodly sin in spite of herself.
All at once she seemed so young, so heartbreakingly young and searching for something, anything that would explain the splintering of her family, wanting someone to blame, some reason why, and somebody she could hate for it. She'd found it between the covers of the Bible, and while Jack was pretty sure that wasn't the intention of its author, it'd do for her for now. If she needed a scapegoat until she grew up enough to see the world in shades of gray, then he'd play the part if he had to. "You go ahead n hate me if makes you feel better, honey," Jack said. "But you gotta know that I never wanted ta hurt you, or your ma, or anybody. I ain't got all the answers. I'm jus tryin ta do the best I can with the hand I got dealt. Yer dad n me did wrong when we tried ta be who we weren't, and it weren't fair ta any a you…but ya know, it weren't all bad, cause it means he got ta have you n Junior, and I got ta have my boy…" He paused, swallowing past that thought. "I been wanting ta say these things ta you for a real long time, Francie. I've had my chance ta say em ta Junior, and yer ma, and now I got ya here and even if ya cain't hear me, I gotta say em, cause happy as I am with yer dad, it's a powerful burden ta know that my bein happy comes at yer expense."
Francie was just staring down at her interlaced fingers, her knuckles white. To Jack, she looked like someone determined not to listen. She didn't have to listen, she just had to hear.
"I know things seem real cut n dried now. Always that way when you're young, and you got someone tellin you how ta think, and givin you what seems like a set a rules that if you jus follow em, then you'll be okay and nothin bad can happen. You probly don't think I understand, but I'm tellin you that I do." He sighed. "I don't got no magic words that'll make ya see how it is, any more'n you got some that'll make me understand no Reverend that's teachin you ta hate." Her head came up at that, a glint of mistrust in her eyes. "That ain't the point. My pastor says that love is the most important thing in the world, and next ta that, nothin else means much. Well, you gotta know that yer dad loves you, even if you won't let him tell ya so."
Francie sighed, shuddering a little, and one hand snuck up to her face to swipe at her eyes. "Mus love you more," she whispered. "Left me ta be with you."
Jack wished there was good response to that. He wished he could dump years' worth of life experience and soul-searching right into Francie's brain so she could somehow understand that there had been no good choice, just the one that'd let them sleep at night, the one that had let them live. "He don't love me more, honey. Jus different."
"I don't understand how you can live knowin the Lord will turn His back on you," she said, her voice small and confused.
"I don't know that he will. The Lord I know don't turn his back on nobody. Yer dad n me got peace now for the first time in our lives, and if the Lord's gonna hate us for that, well…I guess we'll have ta risk it." Francine said nothing. She was still staring at her hands. Jack sighed. "Why'd you come here, Francie? You won't talk ta Ennis on the phone, but you'll come here ta me?"
She raised her head and met his eyes. "Reverend says ya gotta look yer demons in the face, because the devil you know ain't as scary."
"I hope he's right. I don't wanna be no demon ta you, Francie."
Her chest hitched. "Then why? Why'd you come?" Her voice was quavery, but she wasn't giving in. "Why'd you hafta take everything?" she cried.
Jack stared at the floor, at a loss. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"Is that it? You're sorry?"
"I don't know what you want ta hear," Jack said. "You ain't the only one who's suffered, ya know. And you're a damned sight better off than lotsa folks. You still have a mother and father who both love you and look after you, if you'd let them, and a sister who's gone through the same things you have but has somehow come out okay. Do you know that my son died last summer?" She shook her head 'no.' "And do you know that not a day goes by that I don't wonder if I'd a been able ta save him if I'd been there with him, instead a in Vermont? That sometimes I wish I'd stayed in Texas, even though I was miserable, jus so I'd still have him and wouldn't hafta feel this guilty all the damned time?"
"Why didn't you?" she asked. Jack looked up. It was the first question she'd asked him that sounded like she actually wanted to know the answer. "Stay in Texas, I mean."
"You know why, don'tcha?"
"I wanna hear you say it."
He sighed. "Because I hadta try n make it work with yer dad. I know you don't understand, and you think it's unnatural n perverted, and believe me you ain't the only one. But if I don't know nothin else in the world, I know that I love yer dad with all I am as a man and some that I only hope ta be, and when I wasn't with him, part a me died every day." He looked up into her uncomprehending eyes and smiled, feeling weary and wrung-out. "Someday you'll feel that way about somebody, and know that they feel the same fer you. Then, maybe, you'll know why yer dad n me hadta be together, and try ta make it work out best we could fer everybody, includin you."
Francine didn't look convinced. At all. My powers a persuasion must be slippin, Jack thought. "You don't even see what you done," she said. "Or what he done. Or what you are, the both a you."
"I know what you think we are. But I cain't help that. I'm jus…" He hesitated.
"Francie, I'm beggin ya ta talk ta yer daddy. Even if it's just ta say hello and how's the weather."
She stood up, still holding that purse in front of her like a talisman. "I'll think about it," she said, that flat gaze upon him again.
He rose. "Thank you." She went past him to the door. "Francie…I jus don't know what ya wanted when ya come here. What were you hopin I'd say, or do?"
She looked at him with a shuttered gaze. "I don't know."
"You've changed so much since I saw you last Christmas, honey," he said, shaking his head. "What happened ta that young girl who liked ta ride our horses, and laughed, and hugged people?"
She pursed her lips. "She ain't jus tryin ta please folks no more. She's found her true way, and she's grown up."
"Grown up means knowin there ain't just one true way, darlin."
She lifted her chin a little, swept him up and down with her eyes, then walked out. Jack shut the door behind her and leaned on the handle, head down and eyes closed. What's been done ta that child in the name a God? he wondered. And whose ass can I whup for it?
He went to the bed and laid down, more wearied by the conversation than he would have believed possible. I oughta call Ennis. Leastways I can tell him what she said. It was late, though, and he hated to disturb him. If Ennis was sleeping as badly as Jack himself was, he'd need every minute he could get.
Jack shut his eyes and lay back, picturing Ennis in bed. Wearing his blue-and-white-striped flannel pants…no, naked. Naked with the sheets barely covering him. One arm across his stomach, the other tucked up behind his head so it stretched out the muscles in his chest. One knee cocked, exposing the pale inside of his thigh, where the skin was so soft it barely felt like it could be real.
Jack unzipped his pants and reached inside, drawing his cock out. He sighed and began to stroke it, concentrating on that picture of Ennis in his mind's eye. Now that sheet barely covering him was gone, exposing every inch of the body that Jack knew so well. The knobs of bone at the hip, knee and shoulder, the ridges of rib, the flat nipples that stood up like jean rivets under Jack's ministrations. That trail of dark hair guiding his eyes south to the darker mass of his cock and balls, resting now against the white of his groin. Shins rubbed hairless from a lifetime of wearing jeans, feet callused and tough from years inside boots.
He could describe every last detail, but words failed him when it came to how Ennis felt against him. That, he could only recall in senses. With his eyes shut, his hand on himself could become Ennis's hand, Ennis's mouth. His solitude could turn into intimacy, Ennis wrapped around him, his heartbeat against Jack's.
Longing intruded on Jack's fantasy, sidelining him into sadness when he was shooting for arousal. Frustrated, Jack stroked himself harder, pushing his memory towards the most erotic times he'd shared with Ennis. But all he could see was Ennis's face, and all he could hear was his voice, and it only reminded him of how far away he was.
"Shit," he said, voice choked. He opened his eyes and dashed the tears from them, his cock flaccid and pre-empted by the ache in his chest. He turned over on his side and curled up, pulling the bedspread over his still-clothed body, and grimly shut his eyes. Why you holdin back? he asked himself. Nobody here but us chickens and us lonely ranchers.
Jack sighed, and let the tears come.
Alma walked down the hospital corridor, her eyes ticking off the room numbers as she passed, each door drawing her closer. Her steps were accompanied by the litany in her head…why're you doin this, you don't owe him, you don't know her, it's gonna be so awkward, what're you gonna find ta talk about, how you gonna explain…why're you doin this, you don't owe him…and over and over again.
She reached Mrs. Twist's room and stopped outside the door. She's just a sick lady needs some company. Buck up and be nice.
Alma put on a smile and entered, knocking gently. Mrs. Twist…she realized with a start that she didn't even know the woman's given name…turned to look. She was sitting up in her bed, wearing a light blue housecoat and doing a crossword. Alma wondered if Jack had told her to expect a visitor. Probably not. "Mrs. Twist?" she said, approaching.
The woman smiled, a sweet smile but tentative, unsure of who it was smiling for. "Yes?"
"I'm uh…a friend a…" Alma stopped and cleared her throat. "Jack asked me ta stop by n see you while he was outta town. Did he tell you I'd be comin?"
The smile widened. "Oh, he surely did not! That boy, I swear. Sometimes he just goes on his merry way and leaves his sense behind him." Alma could hear that same affectionate exasperation in Mrs. Twist's voice that found its way into hers when talking about her own children. It brought home the strange knowledge that whoever Jack was to her…a devil, a villain, a rival, a successor…he was this woman's little boy, who'd run to her when he skinned his knee and cried for her when it was too dark. "Sit down, won'tcha?" Alma sat in the chair next to the bed. "What's your name, honey?"
"It's Alma, ma'am." Alma looked for signs of Mrs. Twist's condition. Her hands were shaking a little and her voice sounded a little quivery, but if she weren't looking she might not've noticed.
"Oh, call me Grace. Ain't you kind ta come n see me?"
"Well…Jack didn't like ta think you'd be alone all day…"
Grace smiled again. "Ain't he thoughtful," she said, almost to herself. "And…yer a friend a Jack's? Don't think he's mentioned you." Grace's brow furrowed in thought. "How's he know anyone in Gillette?"
Alma took a breath. She'd decided in the car on the way over that if Mrs. Twist asked who she was, she'd tell her the truth. "Actually, ma'am…"
"Grace."
"Grace, a course. Actually, I'm…Ennis's ex-wife."
A few expressions flew across Grace's face. Surprise, comprehension, sympathy…trepidation. "Oh, I see," she said, subdued. "Then you're Junior's mamma?"
"Oh yes, I sure am."
"Well, Jack talks a lot about Junior. He sure is fond a her."
Alma nodded. "She's mighty fond a him."
Grace smiled, then reached out and laid her hand on Alma's arm. "Then…you n my Jack ain't exactly the best a friends, are you?" she said, gently. Alma glanced up at her, not wanting to say anything against this woman's son under these circumstances. "It's okay, you don't hafta lie ta spare me."
"I guess we ain't," Alma said. "Although we got a kinda truce goin on, you might say."
"Mighty kind a you ta help him out." Alma saw nothing but understanding in Grace's eyes and felt herself relaxing.
"He told me you been poorly, and how you needed a place ta stay…well, considerin that ain't none a this yer fault, I thought it'd be the decent thing ta do." Alma's fears about awkwardness seemed a little silly now. Jack's mother wasn't what she'd expected, although what she had expected, she didn't know. She seemed so calm and soothing, like a mother ought to be. Alma felt the pull of her own mother's spirit; she'd died ten years before, and Alma still missed the comfort of her voice, the reassurance of her touch and her smile.
Grace was nodding; she drew back a little and picked up her knitting. Alma, who'd brought her own, took the cue and drew her needles and yarn out of her bag. Grace was using large needles and making a simple scarf; probably a consequence of her condition. "You musta had some hard times, honey," Grace said. Alma didn't quite know how to respond to that, so she focused on her knitting. "You know," Grace began, "when Jack was a boy, he found a stray dog roamin around our yard. Runty little thing, not fit for ranch work, figured it was a pet that run away. Didn't have no collar or nothin. Well, he fell hard fer that dog, and it was mutual. Couldn't hardly separate em. Coupla weeks went by, and by chance Jack's dad bought a horse from the man whose boy had lost the dog. When he came by n saw it, he was all anxious ta take the dog back ta his boy. Jack was heartbroken. Cried about how the dog was his now, and he oughta stay. I tried ta tell him ta think about that other boy, who'd been missin his dog all that time. He'd be happy ta keep the dog, but it'd make the other boy sad." Alma met Grace's eyes. "I know he don't always think about how what he wants is gonna hurt somebody else."
Alma sat still, her needles quiet in her hand. "What happened to the dog?"
"The boy's father just took it back. Jack's dad wouldn't hear a him keepin it when it was rightful property a someone else."
Alma thought for a moment. "I wonder what the dog woulda wanted if they'd asked him."
Grace smiled. "I don't know, honey. Why?"
"If the dog was happier with Jack, it woulda been better in the long run for the other boy ta let it go." She sniffed and picked up her knitting again. "A course, I never got ta choose ta let go. Had no choice. He was gone before I ever really had him."
"Musta been hard," Grace murmured. "That is an awful thing. Hard enough ta split with a man ya got strong feelins on, but ta lose him like you done…" She clucked and shook her head. "It's a real shame it hadta be like that."
Alma turned in her chair. "Is it hard fer you? I'm sorry ta be so forward, but I gotta ask."
"Hard? Ya mean…knowin what Jack is?"
"Yeah. Ennis's folks, they died when he was a kid, but his daddy woulda beat him senseless, no mistake."
Grace was silent for a moment, her knitting needles flashing. "You got other kids, Alma?"
"Junior's got a sister, Francie, and I got two boys with my second husband."
"You want em ta be happy, don'tcha?"
"Sure. But…I guess I want em ta be happy while livin right."
"And you don't think Jack's livin right?"
Alma flushed. "I don't mean ta…ain't my place ta judge…"
Grace flapped a hand. "Pshaw, we all judge. And if someone's got a reason ta judge harsh, I'd say it's you. I jus seen what tryin ta live so right can do to a person. I can't bring myself ta care so much. I jus know that my boy is happy n healthy n doin real well for himself, especially considerin where he comes from. I guess I'm so grateful fer that that I ain't gonna be too picky about the rest."
"Have you met Ennis?"
"No, sorry ta say I haven't. Came close once," Grace said, a touch of grimness in her voice, "but only saw him from a distance. Jack says he might be comin out soon, I'm hopin ta meet him then." Grace looked at her. "You jus had a holiday visit with them, ain't you?"
Alma nodded. "Before that, I'd only met Jack once, way back in '67. Then I go off ta spend a whole week with him after all this time."
"That musta been real hard fer you."
"It wasn't no picnic, but…I guess I gotta admit it weren't as bad as I thought it was gonna be. They took pains ta make me comfortable, and I got ta see my daughter." By now both women were comfortably knitting along, eyes flicking back and forth and up to the muted TV as they spoke. "Was a bit strange ta see their regular lives, their house n their ranch n their friends. It was all so…" She trailed off.
"So what?" Grace prompted.
"So ordinary. Boring, even. Didn't really expect that. Thought it'd be…" She sighed. "I dunno what I thought."
"You didn't think they'd be regular folks."
"No!" Alma exclaimed, turning to meet Grace's eyes. Grace looked up at her, startled by the outburst. They sat still for a moment, then Alma couldn't help but laugh. Grace joined her, chuckling and coughing a little. "I mean…sounds so silly, don't it?"
"No, honey. It's strange ta us. I admit it's a bit strange ta me, too."
"It is?" Alma hadn't expected this admission.
"A bit. I'm happy fer my son, but…well, I still don't really understand his life." She looked up at the ceiling, considering, then put down her knitting. "What's their house like?" she asked, turning towards Alma a little.
"Oh, it's real nice. Kinda log-cabin, but without the logs. They got a fireplace and a real big back patio overlooks the creek." Alma could see Grace's eagerness for details and tried to dredge up a few more. "Um…they got a bungalow, where Junior lives, where I stayed when I was visitin. And a stable, and such."
"But…" Grace frowned. "Who does the woman's work? Ya know, the cleanin' and the cookin and such."
"They got a housekeeper does it, mostly."
"And…" Grace cleared her throat and shifted her hips a little. "They got…do they…" She trailed off. Alma thought she knew what Grace was curious about.
"They got a nice bedroom with a bath attached," she said, quietly. "Pretty pine bed, too."
"And they…share?"
Alma nodded, swallowing hard, uncomfortable with the topic. That musta been hard ta ask, she thought. Grace's questions felt less like nosiness and more like a need for confirmation of what she had never seen, but only inferred. She just wanted to know her son's life. Alma could understand. That had been her biggest motivation for her visit…she'd wanted to know her daughter's life. Where she was, what it looked like, what kind of quilt was on her bed. Things that didn't matter, but did. Things that formed an image for Alma to hold in the absence.
Grace seemed finished, for the time being. "Well. I hope ta see that ranch someday for myself. Maybe I could ask Jack ta take some pictures of it for me."
"I'm sure he'd do that."
She picked up her knitting and resumed. "So, Alma. Tell me about these boys a yers."
Jack got back to Gillette around five, impressed with the time he'd made. For all the rehearsing he'd done in the car on the way up, when he'd arrived, his father had not been home. He knew that he ought to take his time gathering his mother's things, and wait for John to return to the house so they could talk.
And what had he done? Gone through the house like a whirlwind, glancing out the window every five seconds, packed in a flash and gotten back on the road in record time. You chickenshit, Twist, he chided himself. Gonna hafta face the old man sooner or later with all this.
As he approached his mother's hospital room he could hear voices inside. He slowed and paused outside the door, listening to his mother…and Alma.
"I jus don't know what ta do with him," Alma was saying. "He will not stop bitin the other kids! The teacher's had me in ta talk about it, sayin that if he don't stop they mighta have ta separate him or somethin."
"How old is he again?" his mother asked.
"He's just six."
"Oh, honey. They don't know nothin but themselves at that age. Bite him back."
Jack heard Alma's surprised laughter. "Bite him back? I don't know if I could bite my son…"
"Surely could. Bite him back. Let him see how it feels. Tell him he's gonna get a bite fer a bite and watch how quick he stops."
Jack peeked around the corner. His mother was sitting up, knitting forgotten on her lap. Alma was in the chair by the bed, pulled up close, her elbows on the mattress. He knocked, poking his head in, and they both looked around. The change was instantaneous; his mother turned towards him, beaming, while Alma sat back, her shoulders squaring and her arms going across her chest. "Jack, you're back early!" Grace said.
"Made good time," he said, coming to the bedside to kiss her cheek. "You sure seem better, Ma."
"Feelin much better. They started me on that medication this morning. Look," she said, holding out her hands. The tremors were still there, but lessened. Her voice sounded a bit less wobbly, as well. "They said it'd get even better over the next coupla days."
Jack grinned, relief easing the tension that seemed to have set up permanent residence in his neck and back. "That's mighty fine, Ma."
"And I've been havin such a nice chat with yer friend here," she said.
Jack looked at Alma, who glanced up at him, then away. "Well, it was mighty nice a her ta come by," he said.
"I best be goin," Alma said, standing and gathering her bag and coat. "It was sure nice chattin with you, Grace."
"Oh, you too, honey. You come back n see me anytime." She reached out and clasped Alma's hand.
"Alma, can I, uh…have a word with you outside?" Jack said.
She arched one eyebrow. "Sure enough," she said evenly.
"Ma, I'll be right back," Jack said, then followed Alma out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
"What is it?" Alma said, the tension back in her face.
"Thought you oughta know that Francine come ta see me last night at my hotel."
"Francine…what?" She shook her head. "No, she was at her church meetin."
"Alma, I'm tellin you, she showed up at my hotel room door and asked ta come in and talk ta me."
Alma's eyes widened, and Jack could tell that this was all news to her. "She did what? Well…what'd she want?"
"I dunno. All she did was come in and throw some fire n brimstone my direction, and ask me why I hadta go n ruin her family n tempt her daddy into a life a sin n perversion."
"Questions we'd all like answered, I'm sure," Alma said acidly. Jack just looked at her. She sighed. "I'm sorry, it's jus…this is a surprise."
"No more'n it was fer me."
"Jack…you weren't harsh on her, were you?" she said, her eyes boring into his with the promise of retribution if this were the case.
"A course not!" he exclaimed. "She's got a right ta be mad at me, I guess. Mostly I jus asked her ta please talk ta Ennis on the phone, cause I know how it pains him that she won't. I kept my cool head, Alma."
She nodded, appearing to accept this. "I'll talk ta her. I wish you'da just sat her down, not said nothin n called me ta come get her, though. Ain't fittin fer you ta have a private chat with my daughter, y'know."
"Yeah," Jack said, blinking. Why the hell didn't I do exactly that? "I hope you don't think I'd…"
She flapped a hand. "No. Jus…ain't fittin." Alma sighed, shrugging into her coat. "Anyway, I best get on home."
"I sure do appreciate you comin ta sit with my ma," Jack said, hoping she could hear how much he meant it. "Never thought you'd stick around this long."
Alma smiled, her eyes softening a little. "She's a sweet lady, yer ma. I liked talkin ta her. In fact…" She eyed her shoes and fidgeted. "Was thinkin if it's all right with you, I might, uh…come by again n visit her."
Jack smiled, an absurd lump rising in his throat. "That'd be just swell, Alma. She don't know nobody in town, and I'm gonna be havin things ta do."
She nodded. "Okay, then. I'll, uh…be seein you." She turned and walked off down the corridor. Jack watched her go, wondering when this nonstop assault of unexpected events would let him relax for even five minutes. Guess it's more'n politics what make strange bedfellows, he mused.
Ennis came into the kitchen for another beer, and to get a moment's reprieve from the noisy carousing going on in the living room. He'd thought about calling off the traditional "the calving's over" party for the hands and whatever friends were brave enough to come by, but had decided that he wasn't going to change anything because of some assholes lurking around. There were still two men on patrol outside, and with another fifteen or so inside, anyone looking to make trouble would be well advised to look elsewhere.
Marianne was whipping up some more nacho dip, having insisted on sticking around to help with the party, and Liz was showing Lars some of the pictures in the breakfast nook. "That's Jack there," she said, as he looked over her shoulder.
"The man himself!" Lars exclaimed. "He is a handsome fella, ain't he? Ennis! How'd a sourpuss like you ever land such a handsome fella?"
Ennis popped open his beer and took a swig. "Oh, ya think he is? Never noticed."
"The hell you didn't, you just don't wanna say so!"
He was rescued from having to answer by the phone ringing. Marianne started for it, but he stopped her. "I'll get it in the bedroom. It's probly Jack, said he'd call tonight." He went down the hall to their bedroom, closing the door behind the sound of a room full of half-drunk men watching football in the living room. "Hello?" he said, getting ready to smile and respond to whatever silly, smart-alecky, or sexy thing Jack would whip on him first.
No answer. "Hello?" Ennis repeated.
"Daddy?"
Ennis sat down on the edge of the bed, the blush of anticipation he'd had on to talk to Jack vanishing like fog before a strong morning breeze. "Francie?"
"It's me, Daddy."
The breath rushed out of Ennis's chest in a rush. "Aw, darlin, it sure is great ta hear from you. How you doin? Everythin okay? How's school? How're all yer friends? Ya think ya might come visit sometime again?" He knew he was practically drowning her with words, an unusual condition for him, but he had so much to say and he wasn't sure when he'd have this chance again.
Francie waited a moment, probably to check that he was done, before answering. "I'm all right. I've been doin a lot a thinkin, and I've met some new folks."
"I know, darlin. And that's somethin we oughta talk about. But now, I'd just like ta hear all about yer life," Ennis said, treading carefully around the subject of her new religion.
"I miss you," Francine said, tears lacing the edges of her voice.
Ennis gripped the handset harder. "I sure miss you too, honey. Cain't tell ya how glad I am yer callin ta talk."
"I know I ain't wanted ta talk for awhile, Daddy. But I don't want ta lose you for good."
"You ain't never gonna lose me, no matter what. I will always be yer Daddy."
"Glad ta hear that," she said, sounding calmer. "And I always wanna be yer daughter, too."
"A course, darlin."
"You'll come home, then?"
Ennis froze. "What you talkin about, Francie?" he said, quietly.
"Daddy…I want ta be in your life, and I want you ta be in mine, but that cain't happen unless you can accept Jesus Christ and turn your back on that what's led you astray."
Ennis just sat and stared. He had no idea what to say. "Now, darlin, I want ta be able ta talk ta you, but if this is what you wanna talk about…"
"This is all that matters, Daddy. How can you say you love me and wanna be my daddy when you're so far away, and livin the way you live, with…that man?"
"We've talked about Jack, and I thought you understood…"
"He is evil, Daddy. I've looked in his eyes, and I've seen how he's turned you against what's right. You gotta cut him loose, then you can be saved."
Ennis frowned. "What you mean, you've looked in his eyes? When? Where?"
"Here. I saw him last night, at his hotel."
"What? You went ta his hotel? Why?"
"I hadta see the truth a him, that he hides behind that big smile! Reverend says that the devil is a seducer, he's a two-faced tempter! I went ta try and talk him inta lettin you go, so's you could come back ta yer home and ta God's way, and you know what he said ta me, Daddy? He cursed n swore at me and called me the vilest names, I cain't even stand ta repeat em!" Ennis slid off the bed to sit on the floor, huddled against the nighttable with the phone handset clutched to his head. "He said that you'd never turn yer back on him, that you belonged ta him now! I told him that he was wrong, that my Daddy was a good man and I could bring him back!"
"Oh, Francine," Ennis breathed. "What's become a you?"
"I ain't that little girl who believed everything you said and took whatever came no more!" she exclaimed, an edge of hysteria coming to her voice. "I don't want ta do this, Daddy, but if you cain't renounce your ways and come back ta the Lord, then…" She hesitated. "Then I ain't yer daughter no more, and you ain't my Daddy."
"Please, darlin, don't do this ta me," Ennis said, his eyes clamped shut. "You cain't make me choose."
"He said you'd choose him, but I still got faith in you, Daddy. You can choose me, cain't you?"
Ennis knocked his head against the nighttable. "I cain't…it ain't that simple…it don't gotta be that way, jus one or the other."
"I'm tellin you that it does," she said. She sounded so certain. "Daddy…he hit me."
Ennis straightened up, dull horror flooding him. "What?"
"He hit me. When I told him that I'd get you back from him, he grabbed me and said I never would, that you were his, and he hit me across the face."
"Francine Del Mar, why you lyin ta me?"
"I ain't lyin!"
"You are, you are lyin ta me and givin me ultimatums. Is that what it's come to? Is that how it is now for you? That what they teachin you in that…that church? Lies n tricks?"
"I ain't lyin ta you!" she repeated, crying now.
"You ARE!" Ennis thundered, his grief and sickness churning to anger. "There is no way in hell that Jack would ever raise his voice, let alone his hand, to no daughter a mine, and if you think he ever would then you don't know him at all, or me if you think I'd take up with no man who'd do such a thing. Well, I do know him, but I'm startin ta think I don't know you!"
"Daddy, please…don't choose him instead a me…"
"Yer the one forcin my hand, daughter. I wouldn'ta never given up either a you. It's you doin this, not me. You remember that, Francine. But you remember too that no matter what you said, or done, or what I said, I will always love you n be here for you, whenever yer grown up enough ta understand that lovin someone means you don't ask em ta change to suit you."
Before he could lose his nerve, Ennis hung up. He curled around his knees on the bedroom floor, covering his head with his arms, a few harsh sobs escaping him. Coldness and tremors seeped into his body and he barely made it to the bathroom before everything was coming up from his stomach.
He crouched over the toilet, shaking all over, wishing that he could feel Jack's hand on his back, soothing him, pressing a cool cloth to his neck.
What'd you really say ta her, Jack? Why didn't you call n tell me she'd been ta see you? What the hell's goin on out there?