Christmas in Cactus Flats and Other Holiday Romances

by Laura Briggs

  She sorted through a few more photos, then produced a clipping. “Here’s the notice for his wedding,” she said. “I was working up in Cheyenne at the time, but somebody sent me that. I guess they reckoned I’d be mad right through when I saw it, but I wasn’t. Hung onto it all this while; for what, I can’t say. Unless it was to give it to you.” She took another drag from her cigarette.

  Drew unfolded the creased bit of paper and gave a cursory glance to the words printed on it. The table below was a river of memorabilia in motion. Her mother riding a horse, getting a nurse’s license, standing with a group of other women all dressed in scrubs at some sort of workplace birthday party. Arlene’s birth certificate, a ribbon for a junior barrel racing competition. Another photo similar to the one in Arlene’s bedroom, depicting Drew’s maternal grandparents.

  It took Drew another moment to remember that Arlene said she rarely smoked in the trailer — unless she was agitated. Drew placed the photos back in the pile on the table.

  “Does this make you uncomfortable?” she asked. “Talking about this?” She watched Arlene’s face as a frown hovered around her own.

  A trail of smoke emerged from between Arlene’s lips, followed by a sigh. “It ain’t ever easy to talk about the past,” she answered. “I guess that’s why it’s supposed to be behind us.”

  Drew sank down on the nearest chair as her fingers stirred the pile of papers. She debated telling Arlene that she had heard enough — but that would defeat the purpose of coming all this way if she ended up with no answers.

  After a moment, Arlene stirred. “What changed your father’s mind was my running off to have you,” she said. “That’s when he knew I wouldn’t ever be with him. The last straw, I guess; knowing that even a baby wouldn’t change my mind.”

  “So that’s when he left you?” said Drew. “Or did you — make him go?”

  “Oh, he left on his own,” she said. “Showed up at the hospital when he figured out where I was going, carried in one of those big baskets of flowers. Come to ask me one more time to change my mind.

  ‘Billy,’ I said, ‘it’s too late. I give it up all ready to a couple wanting a baby because I’m too young for this. I can’t be a mother and I can’t be a wife.’ I said it a lot like that, but I don’t remember the words anymore. Just the look on his face. Like I’d slapped him across the cheek instead of told him what he already knew.”

  She ground the cigarette into the ashtray at her elbow. “Well, I can’t complain,” she said, in a brighter voice than the previous words. “I got a good job, saw a bit of the city life and kept from getting anyone else into hot water with my troubles. Sometimes that’s all the good you can ask for out of life.”

  Rising from the table, she tapped the nearest photo. “Have a gander at these all you want,” she said. “I’m gonna get some air.” Pocketing the pack of cigarettes, she rose and walked to the screen door, pushing it open with one hand.

  Drew spread the photos out, examining each snapshot and each folded piece of paper with interest as she placed them back in the box. One by one, the images of unknown relatives, of Arlene’s friends, received a glance of curiosity. She needed Arlene’s help to identify most of these people; but she sensed Arlene’s help wasn’t something she could have right now.

  When the last one was placed inside, she shoved the dusty top back in place and left the box sitting in the middle of the table. She pushed open the screen door and stepped outside, breathing the cool breeze wafting around her, the smell of dust rolling across the lawn and the smoke from Arlene’s cigarette. Her red hair was ruffled by the wind as she sat in a lawn chair, gazing into the distance.

  Drew squatted down beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you didn’t want to talk about any of those things. My showing up here hasn’t exactly been easy for you.” Or easy for me, she wanted to say.

  Arlene smiled. “It’s all right,” she said. Her voice was softer than before, a little husky, whether from the smoke or emotion, Drew couldn‘t say. “It’s all right.”

  She didn’t say anything else, still gazing out at the distant view of the dry landscape. Drew remained crouched next to her, watching the same scenery as if waiting for it to impart a secret.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The directions to J.P.’s ranch were complicated for a variety of reasons beyond Drew’s understanding. Lefts taken at old buses, right turns marked by bent trees or large acacias planted by the roadside. The endless plains on either side once she followed the instructions, a long stretch of barbed wire with cows like colored dots across a blanket of grey and green land.

  She thought she must have misunderstood; she had been driving forever and there was still no sign of a ranch house anywhere. On the verge of turning around, she finally spotted the first signs of civilization. A one-story house in the form of a long brown structure with a tin roof, a large barn towering a few yards away.

  Pressing down the gas pedal, Drew drove on towards the vision, which became clearer as she approached. A split rail fence surrounding the yard, a front door carved with a design of trees and rocky cliffs. It was simple and plain and rugged, resembling hunting lodges and weekend retreats Drew had seen in travel magazines.

  She shut off her ignition and climbed out of the car. As she approached the steps, she heard the sound of a human voice coming from the barn. Hesitating, she veered in its direction after a moment’s decision.

  The smell of the stalls made her gag reflexively, the earthy odor mixing with the scent of straw and grain. A cow was lying on its side in a pile of hay, a loud bellow proceeding from it when it raised its head and became visible to Drew as she walked closer.

  “What’s the matter?” she said, in the soft, high voice of sympathy she reserved for animals. When she spoke, however, a very different animal stood and turned around. J.P., bare to the waist, his jeans stained with mud.

  “Oh,” Drew gasped, turning around to face the other way. “I’m sorry — I didn’t realize —” There was nothing indecent about his appearance, but she felt embarrassed, as if she had walked in on someone changing clothes or having a private argument. Perhaps it was because she noticed his muscles and tan — two things not readily visible when he was working the counter at the Dry Street Barbecue.

  “No problem,” he answered. From the corner of her eye, she saw a piece of fabric flutter free from one of the pen’s sides. Behind her, a soft rustling sound followed.

  “All clear,” he said. “You can turn around.” When she twisted around, he was wearing a green plaid shirt, hanging untucked past his jeans pockets.

  “I’m sorry —” she repeated, as he shook his head.

  “Calving,” he explained. Bending down, he hoisted a slimy, slick little creature to its feet. She felt a sense of revulsion before she realized it was a calf. A newborn one whose mother was just now growing interested in it as it staggered forward.

  “It’s a messy job,” he said, with a grin. “I’d shake your hand, but —”

  “No thanks,” she said, quickly. “I just — I wanted to say I was sorry for being rude earlier today. In the diner. When you were talking about my mom.” She added these last two lines for clarification, even as the mystified expression grew more noticeable on J.P.’s face.

  “All right,” he said, after a moment. “I don’t know what you think you said, but if it makes you feel better to apologize, you go right ahead.” He climbed over the pen’s rails so he was on the same side of the barn as Drew.

  “I was just a little irritated at the moment,” she continued. “I mean, they were talking about my mother mere feet away, and even though I know those stories are probably all true — I guess I snapped a little.”

  He wiped his hands on a rag. “Where I come from, a lady doesn’t say anything wrong unless she’s running somebody down by name. Anything else, she’s got a right to say it.” He nodded towards the residence. “You want something to drink? Got something cold in the fridge up at the house.” />
  “Okay,” she answered, nodding. She followed him, reminding herself that only a few minutes of politeness were really necessary before she should go. He was probably busy with his ranch work, feeding cows and checking fences before dinnertime.

  She glanced in the direction of the surrounding pastures, where another barn was visible in the distance. There was no view of town from here, making her wonder how far away she was from it. Probably further than the little ride she took with J.P. before the Christmas Eve party.

  “Are the cactus still strung with lights?” she asked, with a little smile as she climbed the steps.

  He laughed. “Not anymore,” he answered. “I took ‘em down a couple days later. Got to save them for next year’s party.” He opened the front door and motioned for her to step inside.

  A Texas gentleman’s thing, she surmised. Stepping inside without argument or resistance. He closed the door behind them.

  “Hey, Mama,” he called. “Miss Lorman’s stopped by to say hello.” A moment later, Tonni emerged from the kitchen, wearing a pleated apron over her work blouse and slacks.

  “Well, hello there,” she said, with a broad smile. “Look at you — you look like a real cowgirl in those jeans and that old top.” She didn’t say anything about the boots, which made Drew wonder what exactly was wrong with them. They were new, they were leather, they had a little stitchwork for ornamentation. To her, they looked exactly like Arlene’s “fancy” pair for line dancing — only a little less sequin-y, perhaps.

  “Thanks,” said Drew. “I, uh, just came to thank J.P. for helping out before Arlene came back. I’m sure he mentioned that he came by to fix the window. And the plumbing.”

  Tonni’s smile altered slightly, a funny look on her face. “Why, no, I guess he didn’t,” she said. Her eyes cut in the direction of her son, who looked slightly sheepish.

  “Guess it didn’t cross my mind,” he said. “You were at home and working the kitchen all that week. It was just a little neighborly errand.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Tonni, in a thoughtful voice. She turned back to Drew with a smile.

  “You must be right tired after that long drive,” she said. “Come on and have something to drink. There’s root beer, there’s lemonade, there’s mineral water —”

  “Mineral water sounds great,” said Drew. J.P. gestured towards a nearby leather chair.

  “Have a seat,” he said. “Me, I have to go on standing ‘til I get changed. Can’t afford to replace the furniture every time a cow gives birth.” His boots avoided the nearby rug, his hands crossed to avoid touching the nearby table and lamp.

  “Want something, J.P.?” His mother had returned with an open bottle of water. “Now, what are you standing there for, looking like a fool? Go on and take a bath so you can get changed out of those clothes.” This command was issued in a scolding tone, which received a good-natured smile from J.P. as he drifted in the direction of the hall.

  Tonni sank down on the sofa. “So how’s Arlene?” she asked. “Are you two getting along real well?”

  Drew forced her smile to seem brighter. “Yeah,” she answered, “it’s great. I mean, it’s nice to get to know her. And a little about my birth father and — well, the interesting stories behind her past.” She didn’t want to say how interesting, taking refuge in a sip of water. How much did Tonni know about her birth mother? How much did the whole town know — plenty, judging from the reactions in the diner earlier today.

  Tonni glanced down at the rug. “Well, your mama has some rough spots, but she has a good heart,” she said. “She was a real good nurse at the hospital until she retired. Folks talked about how she would just laugh all the time with patients; she could be real no-nonsense with the ones who felt sorry for themselves for no good reason. Practically talked them into getting better.”

  “I guess she has that kind of personality,” said Drew, keeping her tone ambivalent despite the image in her head of Arlene’s forceful presence in the casino.

  “I’ll bet you’ve got a little of that yourself,” said Tonni, in a teasing voice.

  Drew laughed. “Maybe a little of the restless part,” she admitted. “But I guess when it comes to everyday life, I’m more like my mom —” She blushed, realizing what she said. It was confusing for herself and for others, distinguishing between the birth connection of Arlene and the lifetime with Priscilla.

  “What did your mom do?” said Tonni. “Did she adopt you alone?”

  “No, no,” said Drew. “My dad was alive then. My adoptive dad,” she added. “He was a surgeon, like my mom. But he died when I was young, so mom raised me on her own. And worked until the day she died.” That part was still painful to admit, bringing to mind images of herself on the doorstep, turning the key to Priscilla’s silent apartment.

  Tonni made a tsking noise in response. “Well, aren’t you a strong one,” she said, softly. “Going through all that and come all this way to make a connection with somebody Lord knows is a stranger. Well, I’ll be.” She fell silent for a moment afterwards, then snapped back to the present as if realizing something.

  “I forgot to turn that roast off in the kitchen, silly me.” She rose from the sofa, adjusting the ties on her apron as she stood. “You need to stay and have a bite with us. It’s getting late and Arlene won’t be expecting you to set a place at her table after making the drive out here.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” said Drew, beginning the protest of one who felt they overstayed their welcome. “I should ... get going. I didn’t exactly mention I was coming out here.” She blushed with this statement, wondering why that was so. Why hadn’t she mentioned to Arlene where she was going this evening?

  “A grown-up girl like you? She won’t be worried at all,” said Tonni. “She’ll think you had a good plate in town and you can tell her all about this when you get home later.” She bustled towards the kitchen, where an oven door was heard opening a moment later.

  Drew fiddled with the half-empty water bottle in her hand, imagining the best possible way to refuse. She still had no excuses in mind when J.P. reappeared.

  His hair was damp and tousled, a faded shirt the color of heather replacing the green plaid. He wore a pair of jeans and boots noticeably cleaner than the last ones.

  “Still here? Good. I meant to tell you that you ought to stay and have dinner,” he said, moving towards the sofa.

  “Already told her!” Tonni’s voice emerged loudly from the kitchen. J.P. smiled.

  “That’s settled, I guess,” he said.

  The dinner was a southwestern pot roast, sprigs of rosemary and chopped cilantro sprinkled over the top. Rice and potatoes, a generous helping of home-baked bread that was more than Drew typically ate in a week. She smiled graciously, remembering it was rude to refuse.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever said what you do in Boston,” said Tonni, heaping more potatoes on Drew’s plate.

  “I don’t have anything right now, actually,” Drew answered. “I was apartment hunting — job hunting, too — just before I came here. I decided to take a break, I guess. Poor market for both things, even in a big place like Boston.”

  “You like it there?” J.P. asked. He didn’t sound rude; merely interested. Drew chewed a bite of pot roast as she debated her answer.

  “I liked it better when I wasn’t so alone there,” she answered. “But yeah. Good theaters, scenic parks, lots of history. I think of it as home.”

  “There’s a good community theater one town over,” said Tonni. “They’re thinking of getting one up here. Some of the kids and the more culturally-minded folks are always wanting something to do.”

  Drew’s forehead wrinkled slightly with confusion over this sudden shift in the conversation. “Is there a big population in Cactus Flats?” she asked.

  J.P. shoved his fork into a pile of rice. “Nope,” he answered. “Not unless you count the communities and ranches all around. Then it seems pretty good-sized.” He shot a glance in Tonni’s direction which
Drew couldn’t interpret.

  Tonni cleared her throat. “Are you going to the dance in a few days, Drew?” she asked. “Whole town’ll be there, pretty much. Lot of folks you haven’t met while you’ve been here.”

  “The dance,” Drew repeated. “J.P. mentioned it, but I haven’t heard anything about it.” In response to this statement, Tonni whacked her son’s arm with a cloth napkin.

  “For shame! You didn’t tell her about the dance?” she demanded. “Why, it’s the biggest cultural thing you’re gonna find around here this time of year. Out at the old Silas Feed Barn — they string the whole thing up with lights, put sand down on the main floor just like old times. Mexican bands, Tex-Mex bands, Western Swing — you never heard so much music in your life.”

  “Wow,” said Drew. “It sounds like a big deal.” Even bigger than the Christmas Eve bash held at the Dry Street Barbecue, which she had assumed was the biggest local “to do” of the holidays until now.

  “They used to call it the Last Chance Dance when I was a girl,” said Tonni. “Your last chance to find a sweetheart before the New Year. But a lot of people felt that was vulgar, so they took to calling it the Midnight Stroll instead. Lasts ‘til the stroke of midnight, that is.”

  “Arlene usually comes,” said J.P. “If she’s around. She would’ve mentioned it to you before long.” He glanced at Drew with a smile, although his mother was staring at him intently at this moment.

  “More potatoes, Drew?” she asked, lifting up the bowl.

  “No thanks. I’m full,” Drew answered. Which she was, considering the size of the first round of servings. She was half-afraid one of them might mention dessert, but no one trotted forth with a giant chocolate cake or layered pudding after lingering over seconds.

  J.P. stepped outside to check on the cow and calf as Tonni began clearing the table. Drew stacked plates, carrying them towards the sink and the dishwasher installed beside it. A large, modern kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice, despite the old-fashioned exterior of the house. Maybe J.P. couldn’t escape the desire to cook even when he was busy with cattle.