Texas Sweet

by Jean Brashear

  Dilly did not always understand the reasoning of adults; what child does? Miz Mabel was very stern and would order her back to bed. She seemed to have eyes in the back of her head for seeing that Dilly wasn’t where she’d been ordered. All Dilly wanted was to be closer to the steadiness of Miz Mabel, the weight and consequence Mère had never possessed. She was pretty sure Miz Mabel could fight off tigers and demons, that a snake would freeze in its slithery tracks. If she said Get thee gone, thou fork-tongued evil (which Dilly really heard her say once; she was a big one for praying) then that snake would disappear, lickety-split.

  Many nights, Dilly would hold her breath and creep very slowly toward the front door, but Miz Mabel would catch her halfway down the hall, though Dilly never figured out how. Finally they settled on her scooting as close to the window screen as possible and listening to Miz Mabel recite Scripture until she fell asleep. Once or twice she would doze and then awaken to hear Miz Mabel speaking low to someone else. Her husband, Mr. Mose, Dilly thought. “That woman got no right having such a sweet child when other women caint.” And she would hear Mr. Mose respond something about the Lord’s mysterious ways and keep talking right past a sob or a moist sniff.

  Some instinct kept Dilly from telling Mère about Miz Mabel, and when she was just past six, she and Mère moved. She never saw Miz Mabel again, but to this day, when she felt anxious, reading Scripture calmed her down.

  And she bought a set of paper dolls in an antique shop once, just for the shirtwaist dress and pearls and patent pumps inside.

  Night fell too early. If she wasn’t working a shift at the roadhouse, Blue always resisted going inside until the sun’s last rays fled. Sunlight was something she could not get enough of, eleven months after her release. She was so very tempted to sleep outdoors, too, since starlight had once been a favorite sight. For the last ten years, she’d been sealed inside long before sunset. She could barely remember how it had been to take for granted the opportunity to see the night sky’s glory.

  Home now was barely larger than her cage at Big Spring, but she controlled the door, and that one difference meant everything. Now she left her door open for a bit, easing herself into closing herself inside any box, however much bigger than her cell. She was almost ready, she thought, for company to drop by. In the beginning of her freedom, she’d wanted no one around, but hour by hour, day by day, she was learning to live in the world again.

  There were too many hours between nightfall and sunrise. Seldom did she sleep more than an hour or two at a stretch. This night, as so many others, she gave up after an hour or so of tossing and turning, and flicked on the lights. She went to her small closet and dug into the back to retrieve the old round leather hat box in which she kept her recovered treasures. She settled on the floor, stroking the smooth edges, then jimmied gently at the locks she’d carefully oiled to make them operate more smoothly, pressing the lower latch on each of the three to make the top locks release with a pop that always made her startle.

  Slowly she lifted the lid, inhaling the scent of the past, the aroma that only time conveyed—part leather, part some woman’s sachet, a tiny note of mildew and a hint of grief. Inside lay a few of her favorites: a pink plastic diary with tiny pink pen and a lock whose key had been lost; a pair of small women’s red leather gloves; a fragile angel, only three inches high, with blonde ringlets like Dilly’s when she was a toddler. A tarnished silver ID bracelet with the initials RDJ; a silver compact with its powder forming a crater in the center, its puff still soft with its satin back. A pair of men’s cufflinks in carnelian and gold, just like the ones she could remember helping her granddaddy fasten into his Sunday shirt cuffs, smelling of starch and sunshine.

  And the pack of photos of families she would never know. Sometimes she toyed with names for them—solid, old-fashioned names that spoke of roots sunk deep in the soil, of bonds she would never know.

  She could have known such bonds, however. She had chosen to escape, to leave behind the roots that had only made her feel trapped.

  She’d never taken Dilly home. Never let her know her kin.

  And now it was too late. Even if there was anyone left to extend the welcome to the prodigal, Dilly was gone, and Blue didn’t know where. For years the loss had haunted her, the pictures in her mind of what might have happened to her fairy child.

  Please, she prayed to a God who had no reason to listen to her, please keep her safe.

  “Yo.”

  Brenda looked up as the greenhouse door opened to reveal Big D standing there, grinning.

  “Hi,” she greeted, then turned back to the poinsettia seedlings she was watering, her cheeks flaming.

  “You work too hard,” he said.

  “Not really.” She was grateful for the work, for the sense of belonging she was still afraid to trust. “What are you doing here?”

  He nodded toward Jackson and Veronica’s house across the parking area. “Just bringing some stuff the boss man needs, now that he’s sticking close to home because, you know—” He shrugged. “The babies.”

  She smiled at his squirming. Big D was one of Jackson Gallagher’s tech geeks, brilliant when it came to coding video games, but still coming to terms with life in the country, filled with ranches and farms and births of all sorts. He was a long way from Seattle, where Jackson’s video game empire had been headquartered until he and his teenage love had reunited.

  “I think it’s awesome,” she said. “They are so much in love.”

  “Yeah.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the skinny jeans he wore with a tie-dye t-shirt and his nerd glasses. She’d wondered why he was called Big D, since he was barely taller than her five foot five. “What’s the D stand for?”

  “Dangerous.” He flashed a quick grin. “Stealing hearts right and left.”

  She ducked her head and giggled. He was so different from her friend Henry, brash and full of himself. “Tell me, really.”

  “Dangerous, I’m telling you. Devastatingly handsome. Demonic.”

  She shook her head. “David?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “What? That would be boring.”

  “Dudley?” And she giggled again. She couldn’t help that she was shy, but he brought out the mischief in her sometimes.

  He rolled his eyes. “Damon, all right? If you’re going to screw it up, I can’t let that slide.”

  “Damon what?”

  He sighed. “Griffin.”

  “Damon Griffin. That’s a nice name.”

  “Yeah? Better than Henry Jansen, that’s for sure.”

  She frowned. “That’s not nice.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. Henry is sooo nice. So quiet.” He stared at her. “You need someone to bring you out of your shell, you know.”

  “No.” Shells were safe. She’d never known real safety, not before Mère had gone away, and certainly not after, when she’d been yanked from a life on the move to be claimed by a system that had failed her, one foster home after another, where she was one of many. Only once, for a whole year, had she lived in the same house, eaten regular meals, slept in the same bed, gone to school with the same kids. She’d nearly relaxed. Yes, it had been boring and devoid of light and life and tiaras and princess gowns…

  But she’d discovered a taste for boring. She’d begun settling in, though she’d never really fit. She didn’t talk enough or make friends easily. Something had been leached out of her. Silent was safer. Being noticed was bad. In the downward spiral of her mother’s life, she’d been left alone so much, afraid so often, starved for both food and affection, that she’d turned turtle. Crawled inside her shell of silence and learned to make no waves.

  “Hey, where did you go?”

  She stirred. “Nowhere. I was just—”

  The door opened again, and Jackson ducked to enter, his six foot five frame too tall for the opening. “Brenda—” He glanced at Big D as if wondering why he was still there.

  “Hey, boss.”

  “Thanks f
or bringing over that prototype controller.” He halted as if waiting for Big D to go, then glanced at Brenda.

  She couldn’t help blushing. He was so handsome, like a prince or something, and so powerful. “Did you need something?”

  “Yeah.” His forehead wrinkled. “Are we working you too hard? Veronica is worried about you, and I am, too. But at the same time, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  Pleasure suffused her. “I don’t mind. I know all the bending is hard for her now.”

  “It is, but I can hire some extra help if you need it.”

  “I could help her, boss.”

  She and Jackson both looked at Big D in shock. “What, exactly, do you know about growing flowers?” Jackson asked.

  “I’m a smart guy. I can learn anything.”

  Jackson cast a sideways glance at her as if the decision was hers. She froze, unsure how to reject the offer without hurting Big D’s feelings. Fortunately, Jackson seemed to read that on her face. “Really nice of you to offer, D, but you’re too valuable where you are. Speaking of which, don’t you need to get back?”

  “Yeah, I was just—”

  His boss arched one brow. “Headed back to work?”

  “Yeah.” Big D nodded toward her. “See you later, babe. Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

  “Um…thank you,” she stammered. Babe? No one had ever called her that before.

  She kind of liked it.

  “Sweetgrass is a novelty to him right now,” Jackson warned. “He’s a good guy, but he’s a player. Want me to talk to him?”

  “No!” She was horrified at the notion. Big D was the most exciting guy she’d ever met, and having the attention of someone like him was a new experience for her. “No, it’s fine. We’re not—”

  Jackson’s gaze was warm. “You’re a sweet girl, Brenda. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and Veronica would have my head if I let it happen. An innocent like you…”

  She got it. She was out of her league.

  But she also wasn’t as innocent as he thought. She’d seen more in her life than most kids ever would. “I’m fine, Jackson, really. Big D is funny, and I enjoy being around him, but there’s nothing…” She lifted a shoulder. “We’re not—”

  He studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Promise you’ll let me know if I need to intervene. And not just because Veronica is very protective of you. We all feel that way. You’re a special girl, Brenda. Your heart is sweet and pure.”

  Would you still think that if you knew my name wasn’t Brenda? That I’ve lied to everyone since the day I arrived?

  But she didn’t say that. Instead, she smiled at this honorable man who only wanted to help her. “I’m managing the work okay for now, but I promise I’ll tell you if I can’t keep up.”

  “How about if I start asking around for someone to assist you, though? You’d be in charge. Veronica really has no business trying to keep the flower farm going, and once the babies are here, doing so will only be harder. I’ve encouraged her to close down the business, but—”

  Brenda couldn’t help her gasp. “Oh, please don’t—” Please don’t close it.

  “You really like it here? Veronica admires your eye for design, and she is very enthusiastic about your attention to detail. She says you have the magic touch.”

  Brenda ducked her head. Being singled out for praise was something she’d never mastered. “I do love it. But if you need to close down…”

  “That’s not my decision. I’m just being overprotective, my wife says, but she already juggles so much.” He peered at her more closely. “You do, too, don’t you?”

  “I don’t have children or a home or a husband.”

  “But Scarlett and Ruby depend on you more all the time. How long can you keep doing both?”

  “As long as I need to. Please don’t—I’ll be fine, I swear. I can do this, Jackson.” Her heart raced at the thought of having to give up this work, but she also owed everything to Ruby. Ruby gave her the same feeling of security that Miz Mabel had. The day she’d found herself in Sweetgrass Springs and walked through Ruby’s door had been the luckiest day of her life.

  “There needs to be a permanent solution at some point. Speaking as a businessman, these half-measures won’t help this business grow and at some point, it will begin to self-destruct.”

  Her throat went tight. “I have some ideas—” She caught herself. It wasn’t her business.

  He cocked his head. “Such as?”

  She hesitated. “It’s not my place.”

  He glanced around them. “I’d say you’re pretty invested here. Have you discussed your ideas with Vee?”

  “No. She’s had so much going on, with you coming back and the wedding and now the babies…” Jackson’s scrutiny made her nervous.

  At last he backed off. “If you’re not ready, I respect that, but I want you to promise me that you’ll come to me when you are. If you’re worried about offending Vee, I don’t think you could, but still…if you’d like to try out your ideas on me, I’ve brainstormed with businesses of all sizes.” Jackson was a phenomenal success, and he’d gone from a penniless runaway to a very wealthy man all on his own.

  “It’s not my business. I shouldn’t be—”

  “We can agree to disagree. I personally like having my employees suggest improvements, and I suspect Vee would feel the same, so don’t be shy about speaking up, okay?” He flashed his lethal grin. “I know shy is your default mode, but you’re safe with us, Brenda. You’re safe in Sweetgrass, too, you know that, right?”

  She was beginning to believe she might be, and the notion was a tantalizing temptation.

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything I can do to help you while I’m out here?”

  She had to smile. He was a certified genius and a titan of industry, but Veronica swore he could kill a cactus. “I’m good, but thank you. I’ll be locking up soon.”

  He clasped her shoulder. “You’re a sweetheart, Brenda. It was a lucky day for all of us when you came to town.” But in his eyes, she could see the same questions everyone had, though no one ever pressed her for details of a past she didn’t want to discuss.

  “My lucky day, for sure.”

  He gave her a paternal hug, and she soaked it in before craning her neck to look up at him. “Tell Veronica everything is fine. I’ll come in and talk to her tomorrow when I get here to water, and I’ll give her a full report.”

  He released her and smiled. “That would be terrific. She’s restless these days.” He grimaced. “She’s not afraid of what’s coming, but man…I’m scared as hell.”

  That’s right—he hadn’t been in town when their son Ben was born, and the twins, Abby and Beth, were Veronica’s by her first husband. “Bridger has the clinic all set up, and thanks to you, he says he has all the equipment anyone could want, plus now he has Dr. Jake in town.”

  “Yeah, and his OB/GYN sister Molly is coming to visit, but still…” Jackson’s gaze grew distant. “Vee wants to have the babies at home and she’s past the danger point, but I don’t know… Not after Scarlett’s near-tragedy…”

  “Both your sisters gave birth at home, and everything went fine.”

  He laughed. “Penny only did it to show up Rissa. She’s definitely the give-me-drugs type.” He sobered. “They weren’t having twins, though. I’m keeping my pilot here and on alert. I can fly the chopper, but…”

  She reached out to pat his shoulder. “You’re not alone, either. The whole town will do whatever you and Veronica need.”

  He cast her a grateful glance. “I know. It’s just…” He exhaled. “I don’t know if I can stand to see her in pain.”

  There were many love stories in Sweetgrass Springs, but surely theirs was the most poignant, having been parted for seventeen years. She could only imagine how he felt. “You’re a wonderful husband, Jackson, and a great dad, too. Your whole family is so lucky.” Luckier than they had a clue.

  �
�And a worrywart, according to my beloved wife.” He found a grin.

  “Well, you’re a newbie and you love her. You’re allowed.”

  “I’m supposed to be master of the universe, not a man with shaking knees.”

  “Love makes us all unsteady,” she said, though she had little experience with love herself.

  He nodded. “That it does. But there’s nothing better in the whole wide world.” He stood straighter. “Thanks for the pep talk, kiddo. Now, don’t work too long—and remember that I want to hear your ideas, got it?”

  She smiled. “Got it.” Who knew? Maybe she’d work up her nerve sometime soon.

  Blue awoke to a mockingbird’s chatter, that medley of sounds borrowed from across the animal kingdom. The cool morning breeze had her burrowing back down, caught on the edge of memory. Button, her grandfather had said as they’d waited in dawn’s faint light for the fish to show up for breakfast, sometimes folks don’t say much when they jabber. Nuthin’ wrong with bein’ still and waitin’ to see what surprises the world wants to show you. Plus most anything can be fixed with tincture of time.

  Blue kept her eyes squeezed tight, clinging to the precious filament, the clear memory of her grandfather’s rusty voice. Don’t leave me, she wanted to cry out, knowing even as she did that trying too hard was exactly the wrong thing to do. That she would lose him more quickly.

  Relax…just be still… For a moment, she could nearly grasp the chill in the air, the faint rocking of the boat, the insects dotting the small golden patches of water…the quick pop of a fish darting high to snatch breakfast and leaving spreading concentric ripples beyond the bulls-eye of its burst out of a watery world. She’d gasped, and Granddad had smiled, his tobacco-stained fingers steadying her fishing rod before she’d lost it to the mermaids she’d been convinced played below. No hurry, Button. It ain’t important what you catch. What matters is, did you recognize the moment when you had it?