Sweet Return

by Anna Jeffrey

  She berated herself all the way home. How could dull, conservative, hardworking Joanna Walsh have allowed herself to get drunk, wind up in bed with Dalton and completely abandon herself and her morals to his carnal whims? How could she have been so damn dumb? Hadn’t she known from the beginning that a woman lived with him in his house in California? Joanna had even talked to her the day she left a message for him. For all she knew, he could be married to her.

  By the time Joanna reached the bathroom in her house, she had stripped. Minutes later, she stood in the shower letting warm water cascade over her head. It would serve her right if she drowned.

  But soap and water couldn’t clean her mind or restore her spirit or wash away the humiliation that was stuck in her chest like a tight knot.

  More cold hard facts bombarded her. What if he had a disease? What if she were pregnant? And if she was, whose fault was it? Hers, that’s who. The very idea sucked the air from her lungs and every other thought from her head. The pulse in her temples pounded harder.

  She had to leave the shower when the water became cool. She shrugged into her favorite robe, a thick pink chenille that was a size too big for her. She sank into the chair at her vanity to style her hair and try to put herself together for the day, but she was perking on only one cylinder.

  More scenes from Dalton’s bed began to replay in her mind. Indeed he had taken her to a place within herself she hadn’t known existed. She could count on her fingers the number of times she’d had an orgasm with a man, and she had never had several in a night. That pleasure had been so rare, at times she had wondered if something was wrong with her.

  Then a new and certain knowledge dawned on her. Today she had a comprehension that she hadn’t had yesterday, and she found it almost incredible. She had never quite understood Shari’s relationship with Jay, had never related, had thought the two of them silly, had even wondered whether they were perverted. After last night, she got it. Finally. She was thirty-five years old and she finally understood the man-woman thing and the mystery of sex, the riddle that had puzzled her most of her adult life.

  Chapter 20

  After feeding the gnawing empty feeling in her stomach with another glass of milk, a slice of toast and three aspirins, Joanna dragged into the salon two hours late. Her mother was waiting for her behind the counter in the beauty supply store, scowling from beneath a furrowed brow. “Where have you been? You missed your ten o’clock.”

  Oh, hell. Evelyn Rogers. “I brought you some apples.” Joanna placed the bag of apples she had bought in Lubbock yesterday on the counter, then sailed past her mom, avoiding her accusing eyes. “Was Evelyn mad?”

  Sailing past was a poor avoidance tactic. Mom followed her. “A little. But she got better when I told her you was tied up with a problem with them damn chickens. She let me give her a trim.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call her and apologize.”

  “Where have you been?” her mother asked again. “I tried calling you. I tried your cell phone, too.”

  Reaching her desk, still ducking her mother’s piercing look, Joanna busied herself stowing her purse in a bottom desk drawer, removing her sweater and laying it on top of a file cabinet. “Don’t know what happened, Mom. Guess we just didn’t make a connection.”

  Alvadean Walsh might be flighty as a butterfly, but she wasn’t one who gave up easily. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m probably just tired.” Joanna checked her desk for messages. “I went all day yesterday without food.”

  Mom jammed a fist against her hip, her mouth pursed. “Well, you look awful.”

  Thanks, Mom.

  Her mother’s head shook, one-two-three. “I don’t know why you don’t get rid o’ them damn chickens. It’s not like you’re makin’ any money. They ain’t worth your health, and they’re costin’ you business in this beauty shop. Why, if I hadn’t o’ been here this mornin’, Evelyn—”

  “Mom, please.”

  “How far did you have to drive yesterday? Just look at the time and gas you’re a-wastin’ runnin’ up and down the road. With the price gas has gone up to—”

  “Mother. It’s my time and my gas. Okay?” She placed her hand on Mom’s shoulder and captured her eyes with hers. Most of the time, Joanna refrained from hurting her mom’s feelings by expressing her own opinions about some of Alvadean’s habits and hobbies. Some days, keeping quiet was harder than others. This was one of the hard days.

  She saw the rise of reluctant surrender in Mom’s eyes. She might nag and wear a cloak of self-righteousness, but Joanna knew that deep down, her mother supported her.

  “You’ve got Shari down on the appointment book,” Mom said. “She’s due to show up here any minute.”

  Even as her mother spoke, Joanna heard the front door chime and looked up to see her best pal hurrying in just in time to rescue her from more of Mom’s hounding. Time to get on with the day. Joanna met Shari in the salon.

  “Are you sick?” Shari asked, dropping into Joanna’s hydraulic chair and frowning at her in the mirror.

  Joanna wanted to cry. She must look worse than even she thought. Indeed she was sick. Sick at heart, sick in the head, sick of men. Again. She wrapped a silver plastic cape around Shari’s shoulders. “I don’t know. Flu bug maybe. It’s that time of year.”

  “Well, don’t get sick now. We’re celebrating my birthday tomorrow night.”

  Joanna huffed a humorless laugh. “I could be dead by then.” She picked a sterilized hairbrush from her drawer and began to brush Shari’s hair. Heaving a great breath, she directed a long assessment at her best friend in the mirror. “Okay, birthday girl, what are we doing to you today?”

  “I found some gray hairs. Do you think I need some color?”

  Joanna cocked her head, her mouth twisting as she more closely examined Shari’s hair. She had beautiful thick hair the color of coffee. Joanna had created a straight, blunt-cut style that fell just past her nape. It was perfect for a woman who had a houseful of busy kids and a busy husband, and who didn’t have time to maintain a fussy hairdo. “I’d leave it alone.”

  “Okay, then, just trim it and style it. Make me look sexy. For Jay.”

  Joanna stood back to let her friend rise from the chair. They walked together back to the shampoo room, and Shari seated herself in the chair in front of the sink. “How’s Clova?” she asked as Joanna gingerly tilted her head backward into the sink. “I heard she’s got pneumonia.”

  “Yep.”

  “Bummer. Guess you can’t be too good if you’re sick enough to be in the hospital.”

  Joanna nodded, testing the water spray for temperature.

  “Dalton came by Jay’s shop yesterday.”

  Shocked, Joanna almost sprayed water on the wall. “When?”

  “Yesterday morning.”

  Instantly Joanna’s interest in Shari’s conversation perked up. She shuffled back through last night’s talk with Dalton, but if he had mentioned visiting Jay Huddleston, it had gone right past her. Unable to believe a man as self-centered as Dalton had any interest in renewing acquaintance with an old school friend for the sake of doing it, she asked, “Whatever for?”

  “He was wondering about an oil well that was drilled on the Parker ranch. It was a long time ago. Jay couldn’t remember it, but his dad did.”

  Joanna doused Shari’s hair with warm water and shampoo. “Humph. I wonder what that’s about.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “About an oil well? I might have heard Clova mention it here or there, but no, I don’t know.” Joanna went about shampooing Shari’s hair.

  “Jay said Dalton’s trying to find somebody to drill on his mom’s place.”

  It dawned on Joanna that in last night’s supper conversation they had discussed what Dalton had been doing all over the world in the last fifteen years, but not a word about what he had been doing all day yesterday in Hatlow. Her next thought was about the land Clova had offered to her, and a tiny anxiety came back to
niggle at her. “So did he find someone?” Joanna asked cautiously.

  “Oh, hell, I don’t know. Jay doesn’t exactly fill me in on all the details of anything. He said Dalton hasn’t changed much except for a little gray hair. But hell, we’re all getting gray hair.”

  “Not me,” Joanna replied, thinking about Dalton’s hair and the intimate places where it was still coal black.

  Finished with the shampoo, Joanna helped her friend to an upright position. Shari looked up at her, her eyes filled with glee. “Virginia Newman said he’s still hot. You must see him every day when you go out there to take care of your eggs. What do you think?”

  Joanna thought back to the Sunday when she and Dalton had taken Clova to the hospital. Virginia had been the admitting clerk. “Nothing much. He’s always busy, and so am I.”

  “But you must be getting acquainted with him a little bit. Practically everyone we know is pea green with envy that you see him every day. Virginia told Sandy Billings he guaranteed Clova’s hospital bill. He must be loaded.”

  “Hm,” Joanna replied.

  “Don’t give me a ‘hm.’ Virginia said you were there when he signed the paper.”

  Joanna sighed, thinking of something Dalton had said during last night’s supper conversation. Indeed everyone in Hatlow did have their noses in everyone’s else business. “Yeah, I was there.”

  “Well, did he guarantee the bill or not? Clova being in the hospital will cost a lot of money. Is he loaded?”

  “I suppose he wouldn’t have said he’d pay if he couldn’t.”

  And from what Joanna had seen of him, she would bet her last dollar on that fact.

  They walked back to the chair at Joanna’s station. As she snipped away at Shari’s ends, her pal’s prattle wandered to the new lights at the football stadium and the letter Cody had received from A & M. Her youngest son, Dillon, had to have braces on his teeth. Sometimes a person needed a program to have a conversation with Shari. Today, she seemed even more convoluted than usual.

  The hair styling done, Shari stood up with a handheld mirror and did a circular look-see in the big mirror. “It looks great, Joanna. You are so good.”

  “Thanks,” Joanna replied wryly. “I’ve had a lot of experience.”

  Shari laid the mirror on the workstation counter and proceeded to write a check for her hairdo. “Let’s go get lunch. I’ll buy. I want to show you something. I need your opinion.”

  Lunch sounded better now than it would have earlier. Now Joanna’s stomach had taken on a different emptiness. She agreed and they strolled up the street to Betty Lou’s Coffee Cup. As soon as they took seats in a red vinyl booth, Shari produced a large white envelope from her purse, pulled out a page filled with photographs and slid it across the table to Joanna. “This is what Jay’s getting me for my birthday.”

  Joanna gazed down at six pairs of women’s naked breasts of varying shapes and sizes. Puzzled, she looked back at Shari. “Boobs? Or six women?”

  If Shari got the pitiful joke, she ignored it. Her eyes glinted with excitement. “Which ones do you like?”

  The young waitress came to take their order and Shari quickly turned the page of photographs facedown on the tabletop. She ordered a chicken Caesar salad and iced tea. Joanna ordered the same, plus a large chocolate milk shake. Today, she doubted her stomach would appreciate roughage without a cushion.

  As soon as the waitress went on her way, Joanna leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “You’re going to have a boob job?”

  “I’ve been saying I wanted to for a long time.”

  Indeed she had, but the remark had always been offhand and not up for discussion. “Good grief, Shari, I thought you were kidding. You don’t think you’re big enough or what?”

  Now Shari leaned forward, her forearms on the table. “No, no, no, Joanna. It isn’t about size. I can gather them up and fill up a D cup. How much more would a person want? It’s about the way they look.” She turned the page of photographs faceup again.

  “Oh,” Joanna said, realizing that she hadn’t seen Shari naked probably since high school. “What’s wrong with the way they look?”

  “They’re wrecked. Lord, I’ve nursed four kids, and if you recall, Dillon nursed until after he was a year old. He nearly killed me.”

  Being a hairdresser for years, besides gossip on almost every person in town, Joanna had heard discussion of women’s issues from one end of the spectrum to the other. She mentally acknowledged that she might have heard that nursing sometimes damaged women’s breasts, but today, she was too preoccupied with her own damage to even consider a friend’s. “I don’t know, Shari.” She shook her head skeptically. “Isn’t it major surgery?”

  Shari ignored Joanna’s doubt. “They aren’t even the same size now. One hangs down farther than the other. They look more like bananas than breasts.”

  The young waitress returned with glasses of cold tea. Shari sat back and whisked the page of photographs into her lap.

  “Damn, Shari, I don’t know what to say. And Jay thinks this is a good idea?” Joanna busied herself stirring Sweet’N Low into her tea.

  “He doesn’t care. They’re my boobs. He knows it’s what I want. He’s only interested in what’s below my waist anyway.” Laughing, Shari peeled a straw and stuck it into her tea. “I told him I’m gonna get him a board with a knothole in it. Just to see if he notices the difference.” She produced the page of photographs again. “So which ones do you like?”

  Joanna drew the page of pictures to her side of the table. Knowing Shari, there was no getting out of this. “I don’t know.” She thoroughly perused each pair of breasts, then pointed at the middle photograph on the left. “Those, I think.”

  Shari smiled brightly. “I picked those, too. And those are the ones Jay likes, too.” She turned the page back toward herself and studied the picture. “I like those because they look perky. I’m just going for a D cup. I’m short, you know? I don’t want to be a freak.”

  The waitress delivered their salads and Joanna’s milk shake. Joanna sucked a large dollop through her straw. “God, that tastes good.”

  A frown of concern crossed Shari’s face. “Your stomach’s really upset, huh? You probably caught something in the shop. Take some Pepto-Bismol. That’s what I feed the kids when they have an upset stomach.”

  Joanna sucked up another drink of her milk shake. “When are you planning on doing this, Shari?”

  “Before Christmas. We’re going on that cruise in February, you know? The Valentine’s thing? It’s kind of a second honeymoon. That’s when I want to show them off. I’ve bought this sexy bustier thing and guess what else.” She scrunched up her shoulders and giggled mischievously.

  “Not a clue,” Joanna said. She tested a bite of chicken and washed it down with a swallow of tea. Her stomach was starting to feel better.

  “I got a pair of matching panties. Crotchless.” Shari giggled again.

  “Good grief, Shari. Where did you get them?”

  “I ordered them from a catalog. I’ve been thinking about not waiting until Valentine’s to show them off, though. I’ve been thinking about wearing them to Jay’s office one day and perching my little ass on his desk, spreading my legs and surprising him. Why, he could go down on me without even taking my panties off. I mean, if we got caught or something. That’s happened to us before, you know.”

  Joanna blinked and sucked up another drink of her milk shake. Through the years, she had been privy to many of the graphic details of Shari and Jay’s relationship. She had ceased being shocked or even surprised long ago, but sometimes, knowing the private moments between her two friends made facing Jay difficult. He could never figure out why Joanna sometimes couldn’t look him in the eye when he talked about something serious.

  “Anyway, I need to get this operation done and get healed up. So I won’t be out of commission on that cruise, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, it would be too bad if something happened to keep yo
u two from having sex.”

  “Well, it would. I’ll swear, Joanna, I don’t know how you do it. Go without like you do.”

  Joanna wanted to cry again. She inhaled a deep breath and leaned forward, pushing aside her salad. “Shari, can I ask you something?”

  No doubt the body language alerted Shari that something juicy was about to spill. She leaned forward, too, until their foreheads were almost touching. “Is it about sex?”

  Joanna laughed in spite of her headache. “Besides raising kids, what else do you know anything about?”

  “Ask me. You know you can ask me anything.”

  “Exactly what days can you get pregnant?”

  “Joanna!” Shari’s voice came in a stage whisper. “Are you sleeping with somebody?”

  “Shh.” Joanna looked around the café to see who might have heard her. Fortunately, the lunch crowd had cleared out. “Just tell me. I haven’t thought much about it in a long time. I’ve forgotten practically everything I ever knew about sex education.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Shari said. “You never practice.”

  Joanna didn’t need to be reminded, especially today. She opened her palms and gave her friend a look. “And when have I had time to practice?”

  Shari forked another bite of salad, sat back and held it above her plate, a professorial expression on her face. “Really, it’s only about three or four days out of the month. The little soldiers have to be in there swimming around before your egg comes down. It’s like they have to be waiting to ambush it. You just count fourteen days from the first day of your last period and figure you should be messing around for three or four days before that. If you’re trying to get pregnant, that is.”

  “Now why would I be trying to get pregnant?”

  “Oh, no!” Shari’s brown eyes grew wide. “It’s Alicia, isn’t it? I knew she was going to get caught, screwing around with that Pablo kid.”