The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  “No. I hated it there. My boss was one of those sleazy characters who thinks he can pimp you out just because he writes your paycheck. You wouldn’t believe all the things he tried to get me to do so he could make extra money on a car. It was bad enough that I had to wear their stupid ‘uniform’.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “I wasn’t about to intentionally lead men on. Some of those old guys were pitiful; they were so lonesome, even with all their money, and they would have spent any amount if they thought it might make somebody love them. And then others thought I was supposed to come along for the ride with them if they bought the car. I never want to put up with any of that again.”

  “What did your uniform look like?” Lilly was curious.

  “Oh, not too bad, for normal-looking girls, but I have to be careful. You have tits and a caboose like this, and if you show any of it, even hint at showing it, everybody thinks you’re a slut, and they treat you like one. No-good men decide they’re going to own you, and good men don’t know how to act so they try to pretend you don’t exist—that, or it brings out the no-good side of them, too. The only reason I took that job is so that I could save enough to get it all whacked off.” She made a slicing motion at her breast, and after thinking a moment, added, “Well, that and get my sister through college.”

  “You mean you were going to have surgery?”

  “You bet. Do you have any idea what it’s like carrying these globs of fat around?” She hefted her breasts with her hands. “I just wish I could take them off! You can’t sleep on your back, or your stomach, you have to wear bras the size of peach baskets, and any boyfriend you get keeps trying to cram you into the world’s most uncomfortable, stupidest clothes he can find just so he can strut around and show you off to other men.” She turned down the corners of her mouth. “What I wouldn’t give to just look normal.”

  “So you have a younger sister?” Sally Beth asked, hoping she wasn’t going through the same kind of agony.

  “Yeah, Sarah Jane. She’s twenty and starting her junior year at UT, and she’s the brightest little thing! She got a scholarship, so all she needs is enough money to pay for room and board, and I’ve been helping her do that. She has a job, too, so I don’t have to do too much.”

  “Any others?”

  “Nope. Just Sarah Jane and me, Edna Mae.”

  “Huh?” Lilly asked.

  “Edna Mae. That’s my real name. Tiffany is just a made-up name that my boss wanted me to use because he thought Edna Mae was too country for the likes of his fancy dealership. Back home nobody would know Tiffany. I kind of liked it at first, but now I can’t stand it. You can call me Edna Mae. It feels good to hear it. It feels like home.”

  “So… Edna Mae,” said Lilly, trying it out. “What do you want to do next? Do you want to ride east with us?”

  “If you don’t mind. I’d like to go as far as Texarkana, where my granny lives.”

  “Your granny? Is that where the rest of your family is?”

  Edna Mae’s face tightened as she glanced away. “My granny is my family. Her and my sister.” She shifted her gaze back to her coffee cup. Edna Mae was holding something back tightly, something that she hated so badly that she wanted to thrust it from her rather than hold it in, and she was fighting herself to keep it close. She fairly quivered with the strain of it.

  “That’s okay,” said Lilly gently. “We can take you right to Texarkana. We’ll be going through there, and it’s fun having you along. I like to hear you play the harmonica.”

  “Let me get the gas, and I’ll drive awhile,” said Edna Mae as they stopped at a gas station.

  Lilly opened the back door. “Okay. I’ll sit back here,” she said, shoving bags and guitar cases across the seat. “Hey, here’s Lawrence’s camera. He left it in the car.”

  “Oh yeah,” laughed Edna Mae. “He actually didn’t. I just happened to grab it on my way out the door. Consider it yours. It’s the least I can do for you driving me all the way home.”

  “Edna Mae!” scolded Sally Beth. “You can’t be giving his camera to Lilly. We have to send it back to him.”

  “No we don’t. I bought that camera for him, and now I’m taking it back. He took it under false pretenses, and I’ll be dadgummed if I let him have it. I’ll throw it in the river first.”

  “Here are four rolls of exposed film,” said Lilly. “All those pictures he took of us? Hey! Let’s find a one-hour photo shop and have them developed when we get to Flagstaff.”

  The rain began again. Since she couldn’t see out of her side of the flooded windshield, Sally Beth leaned back into the passenger seat to gaze at the streaming desert through the side window. Funny. I’m watching the desert and there’s standing water all over it.

  It was true; the desert streamed with flowing water. Each wash and gully was filled with raging torrents, frothing at the banks and spilling over ravine walls. Grass seemed to grow and flower as she watched, as if it had been released from a fisted hand. Slowly, she realized that the desert was not dead at all, but full of life and sound and color. Even when the rain abated and the water stopped streaming, she saw and appreciated the lean, rough beauty of the place.

  “This place is very… muscular. Like a really hard-working man,” she mused. “Home is like a woman. It’s soft and sweet, and curvy. This place is all bristly and calloused. Hard edges.”

  “But you like it?” asked Edna Mae.

  “Yeah,” admitted Sally Beth. “I think I do.” She looked again, letting her eyes wander over the solid, endless plateaus. They were rough, but if you looked hard enough, you saw a sweetness, too, even in the craggy hills. The stone walls hinted at secret, honeyed places where color slept and life surged beneath the rocky soil. She sighed as she leaned her forehead against the window, sleepily watching the play of light and shadows of rain upon the land.

  As they drew near Flagstaff, they agreed that with visibility so poor, they might as well push on toward Winslow to get a jump on the long haul to Albuquerque. Edna Mae turned eastward on the highway, but they had not gone very far before she suddenly yawned. “I just got really sleepy. I didn’t sleep much last night, thanks to Lawrence, and after getting up at, what? Three o’clock this morning? I’m ready to call it quits. Let’s stop here for the night. Unless somebody else wants to drive.”

  “Yeah, let’s stop,” agreed Lilly. “I want to get these pictures developed.”

  They found a cheap motel before tracking down a pharmacy with a one-hour photo service where Edna Mae bought a toothbrush. After an early dinner, they went straight to bed, each falling into her own private dreams.

  Friday, August 11, 1978, Moqui, Arizona

  “Happy Birthday, Sally Beth!”

  She woke to see Lilly and Edna Mae standing over her with gifts in their hands. Lilly dangled earrings that looked like a string of glittering stars. Edna Mae presented her with a bubble-gum pink cowboy hat with a rhinestone princess crown set into the front. Squealing with delight, Sally Beth put on the earrings and the hat. She felt like a princess indeed: pampered, loved, and oh, so cute, all dolled up. “Where did you find these?” she asked. “And how?”

  “There’s a great truck stop just down the road. We sneaked out while you were still asleep. Now, come on Birthday Girl! We got some celebrating to do!”

  The first stop was at the drugstore to pick up their developed film, then they went to breakfast where they took their time looking at the photographs. Lawrence proved to be quite the photographer. Although his pictures of the Grand Canyon were remarkable, the images he had shot of the women were astonishingly beautiful. He had used the close-up lens on Edna Mae, capturing the delicate nuances of her extraordinary face and hair.

  Lilly was fascinated. “How did he get this effect, where the light seems to shine right through you?” she asked. “And what did he do here, to make the background so crisp, when here it is all fuzzy and soft? Oh, look at this one of you, Sally Beth. You look like an angel! The light is giving you
a halo. And look at your eyes—Sally Beth, you are just beautiful.” She kept thumbing through the photographs, marveling and studying them. “These look like real art, not just pictures.”

  “Yeah, he went to school to study photography,” said Edna Mae, and he’s this good even with his old camera. I just bought this one for him.” She gave a snort of laughter. “I bet he’s mad now that he’ll have to use that old camera on his other girlfriend.” She pondered this for a moment, eyes flashing. “Wonder if she will let him take pictures of her naked? That’s all he ever talked about to me—just had to take pictures of me naked. Man, I’m glad I never let him. Who knows where those would have shown up? Seriously, girls,” she added, “don’t ever let a man take a picture of you naked. That’s one bit of decent advice my mama gave me, and she was right.”

  Sally Beth laughed. “I don’t think you ever have to worry about me, Edna Mae. Lilly, now, that’s a different story.” She punched her sister in the arm. Lilly punched her back, but not as hard as she might have. Clearly, Lilly was in a better mood than Sally Beth had seen her in a long time. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice light and happy. “I want to take our pictures standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. Somebody else drive. I need to read these instructions and figure out how to work this thing.”

  Behind the wheel, Sally Beth drove fast across the miles of mesas and hills. They stopped in Winslow before driving on to see the Petrified Forest, and then as the Painted Desert opened up before them, she couldn’t help but pray her thanks. Thank You, Lord! You are magnificent! Beyond magnificent! I can never be grateful enough, but I am as grateful as any human can be.

  The desert bloomed now; it was not dry, but wet, colorful, almost lush. The lean and rocky land spoke in a whispered voice, telling Sally Beth that she was too soft to understand the secrets here, no matter how much she might yearn to know them. She was satisfied just to look and not intrude upon the mysteries. It wasn’t her place to know all places intimately just as it was not her place to know all people intimately. Her mama had taught her that the secret to enjoying life was to open herself to it as much as was proper without intruding; to appreciate and love, but to accept whatever constraints a place or a person—or she—needed to impose. Like a dance, there are rules, a form within a certain space.

  “You are free to move all you want within that space, as long as you make the steps,” she had once said. “You can improvise on the dance, but the reason to dance in the first place is to show your love. Hold people carefully. Don’t step on anybody’s toes or trip anybody up. If everybody remembers that, we all get to dance and nobody gets hurt.” Sally Beth was grateful to her mama for teaching her that. It made it easier to navigate, knowing these simple rules.

  Edna Mae pulled out her harmonica, Lilly took up the Gibson, and before long, the three of them had settled into a nice harmony. Lilly sang with a robust, full voice. Sally Beth’s was higher, pure and sweet, not strong, but she blended well with Lilly. Edna Mae’s voice was raspy and breathy, but she could carry a tune, and she could belt them out.

  Edna Mae pulled out the beat-up old guitar. “Here’s a little something I’m working on in honor of our favorite pretty boy,” she said, giving the guitar strings four long strums in a minor key, then bellowed out:

  You’re better off with the fury of hell than with a scornful wo-man.

  The devil will let you ride his tail while he heats up the frying pan.

  But a lady full of scorn won’t give you that spin.

  She’ll scorch you to cinders for all of your sin.

  I’m a scornful woman, you are the scorned

  I disdain your sweet-talking ways

  You can cry all you want, look sad and forlorn

  But I’m done with you for all of my days

  Lilly picked up the backup quickly. Sally Beth found a counter melody as Edna Mae tinkered with a second verse.

  A loving woman won’t be tight with wages that you’re due

  If the sweet words that you spoke to her came from a heart that’s true

  You’d feel like a king if you’d treated her nice

  But a rotten man’s pay is fire and ice

  The refrain rolled out of their mouths lustily. They rolled down the windows and sang it loud. Lilly leaned out of the window, shouting it to the dusty road, and Edna Mae joined her. Sally Beth stomped on the accelerator as she hollered at the windshield, skewering poor Lawrence as they stormed their way across the lovely, silent desert.

  At Edna Mae’s insistence on stopping early enough to celebrate Sally Beth’s birthday, they found a motel on the outskirts of Albuquerque. As soon as they threw their suitcases on the bed, Edna Mae slapped the pink cowboy hat on Sally Beth’s head and announced, “Let’s go honky-tonking!”

  Lilly shook her head. “Sally Beth won’t want to go to a bar, Edna Mae. Let’s just go to a nice restaurant.” Edna Mae shrugged off her disappointment. “Okay, she’s the princess today.” Sally Beth breathed a sigh of thanks.

  Lilly and Sally Beth both dressed in their new cowgirl outfits and took pains with their hair and makeup, but Edna Mae scrubbed her face and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. She put her dowdy housecoat on, buttoning it all the way up, and shoved her feet into her plain, scuffed brown cowboy boots. Sally Beth looked her over. “Don’t you want to at least put on a little lipstick? Really, Edna Mae, it looks like you’re trying to make yourself look unattractive.”

  Edna Mae laughed. “You’re right about that, girlfriend. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to attract attention. Thanks, but I’d just as soon be as ugly as a one-eyed, one-eared mutt tonight. Now, come on. The man at the desk told me about a nice restaurant right down the road.” She picked up her purse and strode out the door.

  Sally Beth grew suspicious about how “nice” the restaurant was when they pulled into a parking lot full of pickup trucks and Harley Davidson bikes and heard the thumping of country music. “This looks like the place,” observed Edna Mae. “Hope you girls are set for a good time.” She and Lilly both bounced out of the car, leaving Sally Beth to trail behind as they wriggled through the crowd and into a corner booth. A waitress appeared right away. “I’ll take a Jim Beam, neat, and a glass of water,” said Edna Mae.

  Lilly glanced at Sally Beth before she said, a little timidly, “I’ll have a mojito and a glass of water.” Sally Beth didn’t know what a mojito was, but by the way Lilly was acting, she suspected it had liquor in it. She gave her sister an apprehensive glance. “Lilly, does that have alcohol in it?”

  Lilly rolled her eyes.

  “Why shouldn’t she have alcohol, Sally Beth?” demanded Edna Mae. “It’s your birthday and you need to cut loose a little.” She turned to the waitress. “She’ll have one, too. It’s her birthday, and it’s time she learned the ways of the Wild West.” Sally Beth’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t say anything. This was a side of Edna Mae she had not seen before.

  The drinks came. Sally Beth sipped hers carefully, watching with alarm as Edna Mae tossed her shot of whiskey back in one gulp, then signaled for another. Sally Beth gnawed at her lip. Lilly had already finished half of her drink.

  “Lilly, don’t you drink it fast. You need to be careful.”

  Lilly glared back at her. “Oh, chill out, Sally Beth. You aren’t my mama, and I can do anything I want. I’m twenty-one years old. Now just shut up and leave me alone.”

  “But Lilly…”

  “She’s right, Sally Beth. She’s twenty-one years old and you aren’t her mama. Now, it’s your birthday, and I’m not going to let you get out of here until you’ve loosened up a little and had a good time. Drinks are on me.” She lifted the second whiskey in Sally Beth’s direction. “To Sally Beth. Happy birthday to the sweetest girl in—where are we?” she said loudly to the crowd in general. “New Mexico? To the sweetest girl in New Mexico.” She tossed it down in a single gulp, then slammed her glass down with a big, breathy, “Ahhhh!”

  Lilly lifted he
r glass, too, proclaiming, “To the sweetest, busy-body sister in the world, but the one I wouldn’t trade for anything. I love ya, sis!” She guzzled her drink and slammed the glass on the table as well.

  Despite her alarm at Lilly’s recklessness, Sally Beth felt a knot in her stomach begin to loosen the tiniest bit. It had been a long time since she had sat at a table with girlfriends and just had a good time, and it felt good to hear Lilly’s and Edna Mae’s praise, as it felt good to think about her sister as her friend, not someone she needed to mother and protect. She gave a timid smile and said, as primly as she could while her heart swelled with friendship, “Thank you,” and she took another sip.

  Before long, the music, the smoke in the room, and the alcohol made her feel giddy, but she was having such a good time, she didn’t care that she was laughing too loud or that they might be making fools of themselves, singing along with the band while bouncing in their seats to the rhythm of the music.

  A man dressed in tight jeans and boots, with slicked-back hair approached the table. “Hey, Birthday Girl,” he said. “Care to dance?” Sally Beth was taken aback. Usually men asked Lilly to dance first. She hesitated, looking at Lilly and Edna Mae.

  “Go ahead, girl!” urged Edna Mae. “Show these cowboys a step or two!”

  Lilly gave her a shove toward the dance floor. As Sally Beth let herself be led into the dance, Lilly and another man joined them. She glanced back at Edna Mae, wondering if she ought to go back and sit with her, but she didn’t look like she was lonesome; she was just sitting back, smoking a cigarette, smiling at the band, the dancers, and the waitress, who was bringing her another whiskey.

  The evening flew by faster than she could have imagined. She and Lilly danced with several partners, then they ordered dinner and ate, and afterwards, the waitress brought a whole cake, and complete strangers sang “Happy Birthday” to her as they passed out cake to everyone who wanted some. Then someone sent over a round of drinks, and although Sally Beth wasn’t sure it was right to accept them from a stranger, Edna Mae and Lilly laughed at her and lifted theirs to the guy at the bar who was waving at them. Sally Beth smiled and waved back, just a little, before she sipped at it.