Dallas, Texas
April 1979
"I miss you."
"You too, darlin'."
"I wish you were here."
"I'll be home soon."
"When?"
"A week and a half."
"You can't come home before then?"
"I wish I could."
"I understand."
"I'll talk to you tomorrow."
JR was gone and would be for a while longer yet, a fact Jock knew and seemed all too eager to exploit.
He had returned twice since his initial visit, dismissing her wishes each time. Confident that he knew best, he was certain he understood what she wanted and what she would like, but he was wrong in every way.
She didn't want his hands on her, platonically or otherwise, and she certainly didn't want to know him intimately. Yet now she did, and that knowledge made her sick.
The unease she'd felt at his leering had been justified, and she dreaded to think what might have happened when she'd left his sight, though in light of what she now knew, she almost wished he'd simply kept his interests to himself.
How she was going to tell JR, she had no idea. She didn't even know how to fully comprehend it herself. She hadn't wanted what had happened. She'd said as much. Maybe not loudly enough, maybe not convincingly enough, but she'd said it.
Jock's remarks made it clear he genuinely believed she'd enjoyed it, that she'd invited his attention. To him, it didn't matter whether she'd resisted or resigned herself to it, his conclusion was the same. She was enjoying herself. She had to be. She must be.
He treated her as though he held her in high regard, as though he was doing her a favour. It was as if her silence was proof she desired him, ignoring that she had never once asked for his touch, nor derived any pleasure from his advances.
If she never again saw him in her bedroom, heard his heavy breathing, his grunting and groaning in her ear, smelled his cologne, tasted bourbon and cigarettes on his lips, felt his rough hands on her body, his firmness pressing and pushing against her, or had to wipe away his excitement from her skin, it would be too soon.
She didn't want him as he wanted her. But she resigned herself to the likelihood that she'd know him that way again before JR returned.
Odessa, Texas
Sue Ellen sounded distant and sad, attributing it to missing him, but JR wasn't convinced that was all there was to it.
When he asked about her days, she had plenty to say. Her nights, though, were different. He hated the thought that she might be scared, but his mind kept returning to it.
The way she constantly asked about his ability to come home quickly unsettled him. They'd been married over eight years, she wasn't a new bride, unaccustomed to sleeping alone. But she sounded like she was desperate for companionship, his companionship, and no one else's.
Caught up travelling across the state, JR wished he could cut his business short. But he knew that wasn't realistic. Each foreman and crew expected his attention, and some needed his guidance.
Ewing Oil ran like a well-oiled machine, but only because he kept a close eye on its workers and operations. It was his job to catch problems before they spiralled into lawsuits. As much as he wanted to head home early, he couldn't. For now, his personal life had to come second.
He resolved to have a frank conversation with Sue Ellen when he got back. He'd figure out what was behind her anxious anticipation of his return, and once he understood, he'd do whatever was necessary to fix it.
Dallas, Texas
For a few days, the dreams had stopped. His desires had been fulfilled in reality, not just in his imagination. But now that the waiting game had resumed, with JR's return looming, the dreams were back.
The latest had been less of a dream and more of a nightmare, a haunting vision of Sue Ellen's past behaviour. In it, their second son had never made it into the world. Jock had woken in a cold sweat, unable to shake the image of her bleeding in a hotel bathroom as she had during her last pregnancy.
Sue Ellen was on medication now to keep her from falling into another depression. Jock still maintained she'd reacted badly to carrying JR's offspring in particular, but even that logic brought him little comfort in the stillness of the night.
He couldn't let it happen again. Wouldn't let it happen again. If it came to it, he'd do what was necessary. Sue Ellen had been admitted to a facility once before, she could go again, especially if it became clear she was a danger to herself or their unborn son.
He didn't want to take things that far. But it was always safer to know who to call and when, even if he never actually needed to.