Authors: Bobbie O'Keefe
“Well...I...do.” Grabbing her shoulders, he gave her
a strong shake. It wasn’t the most romantic move he could’ve made.
“Well, gee, that’s tough.” The yard rang with their
forceful whispers. “I seriously doubt you’re the first hot-blooded cowboy who’s
not going to get what he wants.”
Now that his blood seemed more heated with temper
than ardor, the situation was back on even footing. She had about as much
chance of topping him in the sexual banter he was so good at as winning a
physical fight with him. But in just plain getting mad, she could hold her own
any old day.
And he’d also figured that out, because he exhaled
sharply and released her, stopping just short of thrusting her away. “So you’re
bound and determined to stick to this confounded waiting game of yours.”
“I am
not
playing games.”
“You couldn’t prove that by me. But if that’s the
way you want it, then get on out of here.” He pointed at her house. “Go. Now.
Before I change my mind.”
At his dismissal, so summarily delivered, she
narrowed her eyes. Then at her lack of hurry, he looked back at her. Although
his eyes still held heat, his countenance smoothed out, but with calculation,
not calm, and she realized that if she didn’t make a move, he would. So maybe
it would be wiser to let him have the last word after all.
She turned, stalked away and didn’t look back until
she reached her door. It took her eyes a moment to separate his shadow from the
patchwork of tree limbs, but then she found him still standing there,
motionless and watching her.
As her anger dissipated she was left feeling hollow,
empty, vulnerable. And wanting.
She pushed the door open and went inside.
*
The following Sunday, Lainie stood in the living
room of the Cooper house amidst a flurry of activity.
“No, really,” she protested. “Please don’t go to all
this trouble. Country dancing isn’t, well...”
“Don’t you fret,” Raymond Cooper said. “Randy, push
that armchair out of the way there.”
Lainie sat on the sofa, hoping that would slow down
the furniture moving. “But—”
“I warned you that you were in for it,” Jackie said
cheerfully as she helped Bobbie push the coffee table to the wall.
“Margene, honey, where’s that boom box? And Lainie,
sweet child, you’re gonna have to get up off that couch.”
“Ray, careful that you don’t—” Margene said.
“I haven’t lifted a finger here, honey. I got these
young folk doin’ all the work.”
Giving up, Lainie stood and helped Jackie push the
sofa out of the way. Come what may, she was going to get a dance lesson.
She’d heard nostalgia today, but nothing about Lone
Tree and Elizabeth Ann Auburn. Ray loved to talk, but it was Margene Lainie
wanted to hear from. Jackie had gotten her ebullient nature from her father.
Her sister was quieter, like their mother.
Lainie learned that Margene was retired from the
local school district and Ray had been a postman. “Delivered mail for thirty
years till gout took up residence in my big toe.”
She’d also gotten an earful about the Alaskan cruise
they’d just returned from.
“It was a mite cold, even in July. But one thing I
can say for those cruise people, they got activities, something going on every
day. Even had lessons in country dancing. Margene and I never got out on the
floor, though—too many people didn’t know what they were doin’.” He grinned.
“Musta been why they were giving lessons?”
One thing had led to another, and now Lainie, the
guest who hadn’t been allowed to help in the kitchen, was moving furniture all
over the living room.
“Daddy, what music do you want?” Bobbie stopped
thumbing through tapes to level a look at Randy. “Not counting Mama and Daddy,
has anyone noticed we’ve got three women dancers and only one man?”
Randy didn’t smile back. Neither did he blush.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
Well, good for you, Lainie thought. Bobbie Ann,
you’ve met your man.
“This one,” Jackie said, choosing a tape and popping
it in. “We don’t need partners.”
The catchy nonsensical strains of “Elvira” filled
the air. “Okay, Lainie, this is what you call Cowboy Motion. You stand in a
line, like this.” She aligned herself next to Lainie, and Randy and Bobbie
stationed themselves on her other side. “Hook your thumbs in your belt like
this, and—”
“I don’t know about this,” Margene said around a
grin. “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen anybody do a bona fide heel click in tennis
shoes.”
Six pairs of eyes, accompanied by the Oak Ridge Boys
in full voice and rhythm, studied Lainie’s footwear.
“It does kinda take the pizzazz out of it,” Raymond
agreed.
Lainie dissolved into giggles. She liked Texas and
its people, but there were times when she clearly did not fit.
“Lainie, you come sit with me,” her hostess said,
patting the cushion next to her on the sofa that now blocked the doorway to the
kitchen. “Didn’t appear you were much interested in dancing in the first
place.”
Gratefully, Lainie sat down.
“Bobbie, honey,” Ray said. “Boot your sister out of
the way and grab my tape of favorites there. We’re gonna do some serious
dancing. I didn’t do all this furniture moving for nothing.”
Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings joined in harmony,
warning mamas not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys, and Bobbie Ann
gave her hands and a lively grin to her cowboy. Though she was on the quiet
side, she clearly could be a handful. Randy, however, appeared to be willing
and able to cope.
“Margene?” Raymond asked with a tilt of his head.
“No, thank you, dear.”
“Lainie? Last chance.”
“No, thank you, kind sir.”
Jackie struck a pose, crossing one foot over the
other with its boot toe touching the floor, and opened her arms in invitation
as she smiled at her father.
“Don’t you get smart with me, girl. I’m the one
taught you how and I can still outdance you any day of the week. Now get on
over here.”
The country dance was quaint and structured; the couples
connected at arms’ length, touching hands, waist and shoulders only.
“Lainie, here’s what we call promenade,” Ray said,
and the women were turned, positioned beneath the right arms of their partners,
danced forward, then were turned again to face the men.
“And now an outside turn,” Jackie said.
“Thank you, daughter, but I’ll lead, if you don’t
mind. Randy, how about we execute a wrap?”
That done, he called for Jackie’s outside turn.
“Happy now, child?”
Lainie enjoyed the camaraderie Ray shared with his
daughters, and she noted how comfortably Randy fit into the family group.
“You do your mama proud,” Margene said, and Lainie’s
breath caught.
“You’ve got a gracious turn to you,” Margene went
on. “It takes a knack to deal with people like Ray, who can run away with
themselves at times.”
Oh. She let the pent-up breath go. “Well, I’d
already met Jackie.”
“Oh, yes.” Margene dragged the two words out. “They
are two of a kind.”
That song ended, and the dancers gave the women on
the sofa a questioning look. Margene shook her head, Lainie just grinned and
the couples changed partners.
“She’s got a tendency to lead, that one,” Ray said.
“Might be they both do,” Randy countered. “They had
the same teacher.”
Waylon was on his own this time, explaining how
ladies loved outlaws.
Margene gave Lainie a sideways glance. “I have to
tell you, you and Jackie are bringing back memories. I used to be good friends
with Elizabeth Ann Auburn, Miles’s daughter.”
Casually, Lainie nodded. “Jackie mentioned that.”
“It was like we were sisters. We both felt that way,
and I still think about her.”
Lainie waited, but when her hostess went no further,
she prompted, “Miles mentioned he’d lost his daughter. It seemed difficult for
him to talk about her.”
“Yes, he lost her, but not the way it sounds. She
ran off, defying him to be with the man she’d fallen in love with—following her
heart, some would say.” Margene paused. “But I always thought she was making a
mistake. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. She was hearing it from her
daddy, too much so, as I recollect, and just plain wouldn’t hear it from me,
too. She called once, a couple weeks after she’d left. They’d found an
apartment, she wouldn’t say where, and were looking for work. She sounded
happy, yet scared at the same time. And homesick.”
Margene’s eyes clouded. “Never heard from her again,
but I still think about her. Guess I always will. If she’d been happy she
would’ve stayed in touch. And then I never much believed in fairy tale endings
anyway.”
Lainie wasn’t aware the dancers had stopped until
Ray plopped down between her and Margene. He stretched his arms along the top
of the sofa, propped his right foot on his left knee and stared at it. “That
toe’s been behaving itself for a while now. Knock on wood.”
Randy sat in the armchair and Bobbie perched on the
arm of it. Jackie had settled on the end of the coffee table. She tapped her
foot, keeping time with a country rock singer. “You know what I liked? That
truck commercial he did some time back.”
Ray’s smile was indulgent. “Doesn’t take much to
please you, girl.”
Ray turned his attention to his wife. “I heard you
talking. Elizabeth Ann again?”
“Um-hmm.”
“That’s a lot of years ago.” He stretched his legs
out, crossing one ankle over the other. “And I agree with you. These two gals
do remind me of you and Elizabeth, but backwards.”
Lainie gave him a sideways look, trying to decipher
that.
His gaze settled on Jackie. “Elizabeth was
headstrong, independent, moving ahead without always knowing where she was
going, and there are times I’ve seen that in our eldest daughter here. But
Lainie’s quieter, keeps her own counsel, doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve.”
His head turned to Margene. “That’s more like you.”
Face growing somber, he looked back at Jackie. “The
past is one thing, the present another. That goes for every one of us.” He
waited a beat. “Ran into Willis Bender last week, over in Farber. He asked
about you.”
The look between father and daughter didn’t hold
rancor, but neither was there evidence of their previous lightheartedness.
“Hope you told him I’m just fine,” Jackie said. Her tone was flat.
“Yes, Jackie Lyn, that’s what I told him.” Ray’s
sigh was heavy as he prepared to stand. “And now I’m ready for more of that
sweet potato pie. If anyone wants to join me, they can help me get these two
womenfolk up off this couch here so we can get into the kitchen where it’s at.”
Staccato raps of a bouncing basketball rang across
the prison’s exercise yard, amid human sounds that were even more explosive:
grunts, curses and threats, shouts of derision and hoots of triumph.
Bored, Carl Henry sat on a concrete step and watched
the game, the weight of the sun heavy on his back and shoulders.
Sweat rolled off the players, discoloring their
clothing and filling the air with its stink. The game was
nondiscriminatory—skins in various shades of black, brown, and white—which was
a perfect setup for a healthy riot.
Carl’s attention sharpened when a fight erupted at
the sidelines. A stocky Mexican wrestled the ball to his stomach, hugged it
with one arm and smashed the palm of his free hand into his opponent’s face.
The man dropped like a rock, nose gushing blood, and the victor whirled. He
shot, the ball bounced off the backboard, and he sprinted to join the mass of
bodies beneath the basket.
Carl settled back. They were both Hispanic. If one
of them weren’t already out cold, there would’ve been friction, maybe
interesting, but no gang action.
“Yo,” said a gravelly voice, and the word was
followed by a fit of coughing. Carl glanced sideways without returning the
greeting. The speaker was a new arrival named Leroy, an aging loser with some
hard years on him. Getting the cough under control, the useless has-been pulled
a last drag from his smoked-down cigarette before throwing it away. Carl
wrinkled his nose at the smell.
“Familiar face,” Leroy said.
Carl frowned in annoyance, not bothering to search
his memory. He’d also recalled the man from somewhere, but hadn’t cared how or
when he’d known him.
“If I remember right,” the older man said, “you was
sweet on that Cooper gal. The oldest one.”
Carl whipped his head around, fastened his gaze on
Leroy, but the man didn’t seem aware. He was looking at the prone convict.
“Think he’s dead?” His voice held idle curiosity.
As if cued, the body twitched, then rolled over with
a fit of gagging. The nosebleed had slowed to a steady drip. The man unsteadily
worked himself to his knees.