Cowboys and Cabernet. Margot Dalton

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СКАЧАТЬ name is plain Jodie Hiltz, and you’d better stop puttin’ on all these phony airs, girl. They’ll bring you nothin’ but grief.”

      Jodie ignored her mother. She smiled to herself as she patted her small bulging abdomen, then frowned angrily when a teenage boy with headphones and a skateboard careered past her, almost jostling her from the sidewalk.

      “You took a picture of them people,” Marg said after an awkward silence.

      Jodie remained silent, reaching up to pat her dark curls, tucking a strand of hair thoughtfully behind her ear.

      “Didn’t you?” her mother persisted.

      “A baby has a right to know what his daddy looks like,” Jodie said in a soft voice. “He’ll say, ‘Mama, what did my daddy look like when I was born?’ And I’ll show him the picture and say—”

      “You’ll do nothin’ of the sort!” Marg stopped in midstride and reached out a big hand to grip her daughter’s arm, leaning forward to glare at the girl. “And what’s more,” the older woman added, glancing furtively over her shoulder and dropping her voice to a harsh whisper, “you better stop sayin’ things like that, Jodie Hiltz. You’re fixin’ to get the whole family into trouble, talkin’ such nonsense.”

      “I’m not talking nonsense,” Jodie said calmly, shaking her mother’s hand away and resuming her march up the street.

      “Tyler McKinney is not that baby’s father, and you know it,” Marg muttered furiously. “I got no idea who is its father, but it’s damn sure not one of the McKinneys! You’re just crazy, girl.”

      Jodie gave her mother a placid secretive smile. “I know what I know,” she said.

      “You know nothin’,” Marg said forcefully. “An’ if you got any brains at all, you’ll come back to Lampasas with me an’ help with the other kids, and forget this nonsense.”

      “I’m staying right here. I want my little baby to grow up close to his daddy,” Jodie said with imperturbable calm. Marg shook her head helplessly, glancing at her oldest child and wondering what on earth ailed the girl…besides being pregnant, of course.

      The fact of Jodie’s pregnancy was something that Marg dismissed quite casually. These things happened. In fact, Jodie had happened to her at just about the same age, though these days Marg certainly looked older than her years.

      Raising eight kids with no money could do that to you, Marg thought philosophically. But she wasn’t complaining. The kids were healthy and if truth be told, life was really a whole lot better since Joe was gone. Now she could save a bit, and the kids could have a few nice things in return for all that hard work.

      The prospect of another mouth to feed didn’t worry Marg. If Jodie would just quit her silliness and move back home they could make do when the baby came along, just as they always had. It would even be nice, Marg thought wistfully, having a sweet new little one around the house again. She’d always loved babies.

      But Jodie was getting to be a real worry. Just last year she’d quit high school a few courses short of her diploma and announced that she was moving back to Crystal Creek to get a job. Then had come this pregnancy, though Marg had had no idea her daughter even had a boyfriend. And suddenly, just a month or so ago, she’d confided to her mother that Tyler McKinney, of all people, was the child’s father.

      Marg didn’t know what to make of it. She couldn’t bring herself to believe the girl’s story, and yet there was Jodie’s calm unshakable conviction, and the clear absence of any other male in her daughter’s life, at least none that Marg could see on her visits to Crystal Creek.

      They paused by the bus depot and Marg squinted at the sun. “There’s another bus leaves in a couple hours,” she said hopefully, “an’ Tommy promised he’d look after the chores for me tonight. I could just go on over to your place for a while, Jodie, have a mug of coffee an’ see what your—”

      “No,” Jodie said quietly. “You better catch the early bus, Mama. Tommy’s awful young to be looking after the chores all on his own.”

      Marg looked at this pretty daughter she’d never really understood, even when she was just a little bit of a thing.

      “You don’t want me at your place, do you, Jodie?” she asked sadly. “You been there for months, livin’ on your own, an’ you never let me step inside. I call that real mean.”

      “A person is entitled to their privacy,” Jodie said with her usual air of impenetrable calm. “I don’t let anybody into my place, Mama. Except Tyler,” she added with a small faraway smile. “Anytime Tyler likes, he can come into my place.”

      “Tyler McKinney has never once set foot in that shack of yours,” Marg said, her voice rising. “An’ you know it, Jodie.”

      “He’ll come,” Jodie said dreamily. “When his son is born, he’ll come and bring me flowers.”

      “More likely he’ll bring you a summons for tellin’ lies about him.” Marg hesitated, gazing unhappily at her daughter’s pale withdrawn face, searching for words to bring the girl back to reality. But the bus was pulling in, its dusty sides glinting in the fading afternoon light, and there was no more time.

      Reluctantly Marg climbed on board, handed her ticket to the driver and found a seat by the window where she could see Jodie. But the girl didn’t even linger for a parting wave, just turned and headed briskly up the street without a backward glance.

      Marg settled back against the soiled upholstery with a troubled sigh and closed her eyes, hoping to snatch a few minutes of welcome sleep before she got home.

      JODIE HEARD the rumbling growl behind her as the bus pulled out and lurched around the corner, heading for Lampasas. She felt a surge of relief, though her pretty face remained impassive. It was getting increasingly awkward when her mother visited, with all her stupid questions and warnings.

      Her mother didn’t know anything. How could Marg Hiltz give advice about Jodie’s life? Only Jodie knew.

      And Tyler…

      Jodie’s pale eyes glistened and she began to quicken her steps, ducking through a gap in the ragged hedge and running around behind the drugstore. In the vacant lot at the rear of the store was an old building, originally a stable, then a garage and storage area. Recently, hoping to attract an employee who would stay a while, the drugstore owner had converted this ramshackle building to a small self-contained living area with an old couch that doubled as a bed, a sink, toilet and hot plate, and an old bar fridge beneath the makeshift counter.

      With a glow of proprietary pride, Jodie took the key from her big colorful handbag and let herself inside the old building, then switched on the naked light bulb that hung from the ceiling.

      She glanced around with satisfaction at the small shuttered space where she lived. The single room was very neat, and attempts had been made to brighten the rough interior with plastic flowers, a couple of travel posters on one wall, a few stuffed animals on the lumpy ancient couch.

      There was one window opposite the bright posters, heavily muffled with cheap drapes, and the other two walls were covered with pictures and newspaper clippings featuring Tyler McKinney. Most of the pictures were Polaroid snapshots, like the one that Jodie now took from her purse and tacked carefully on the peeling mildewed wall.

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