The Texan's Secret (7 page)

Chance flew to each well and introduced himself to the tool pusher and driller, the men in charge of the rig and workers, and then met some of the roustabouts and roughnecks. He couldn’t meet them all, because they worked in eight-hour shifts seven days a week—night and day. After two weeks of work, they had a week off. By the end of his first week on the job, though, Chance had met just about everyone.

Taking over wasn’t in his plan. That would make everyone a little touchy. He always went to the tool pusher’s trailer first, where the technical equipment was located. He checked the drilling log to see how many feet had been drilled, and to make sure the operation was on time. Through the small window he could see the workers on the rig, looking like tiny ants.

There were two mobile trailers on-site where the workers slept and ate. One well wasn’t far out of Giddings, and sometimes when their shift ended they’d bathe and go into town to drink. Chance didn’t like that and decided he’d have to talk to them. Nursing a hangover on a rig was too dangerous.

On his way back to Houston that day he looked at his phone to see if he’d gotten a call from Shay. He couldn’t
count the number of times he’d done that. Why hadn’t she phoned? Had he misinterpreted the kiss? Was the emotion, the passion, all on his side? Or maybe she hadn’t taken the test yet? Had she chickened out?

By the time he got back to his office, the lab was closed. First thing the next morning he called, and found Shay had taken the test last Tuesday—a week ago. That pretty much said it all.

He had to get Shay Dumont out of his mind. It had ended before it had even started. Besides, the situation between her and Judd was a sticky one. It was best for Chance to forget the whole thing. There was just something about her, though.

Cadde walked into his office not long after. “The Occupational Safety and Health Administration inspector will be here next Wednesday at eight o’clock, so show her around.”

Chance looked up. “Isn’t that your job?”

“No. It’s yours.” His brother walked out.

“Oh, no, it isn’t.” Chance followed him to his office.

Cadde sank into his chair. “It’s a woman, and you handle women better than I do.”

“Oh, good grief. Why don’t you send Kid then?”

“No,” Cadde snapped. “If she’s younger than forty he’ll make a pass at her and screw up the whole thing. This is serious because of the two accidents we’ve had.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But I hope she doesn’t have green eyes.”

Cadde frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” Chance shook his head dismissively as Kid strolled in.

“What’s going on?” Kid slid into a chair and propped his feet on Cadde’s desk.

Chance told them about Shay and Blanche and their connection to the Calhouns. “So you see, I’ve kind of been the go-between.”

“But you like this Shay despite what she did?” Cadde asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s hard to explain, though my first loyalty is to Cait and Judd.”

“Hmm.” Cadde was eyeing Kid’s new haircut.

Their brother leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, causing the big chair to teeter on two legs. “Ol’ Jack sure was a ladies’ man.”

“I know someone else just like that.” Cadde knocked Kid’s boots off his desk and they landed on the floor with a thud. “So what are you going to do?” he asked Chance.

“Nothing. I know Judd will call when the test results come in and he’ll probably settle with Shay. As for me, my part is over.”

“It’s hell when the past comes back to haunt you,” Kid remarked.

Cadde pointed a finger at him. “Remember that.”

Kid grinned. “You know, Cadde, I was just in here and you weren’t around. I thought hell had frozen over, because you’re always here. And my past is my business.”

“What did you want?” Cadde asked in an even tone.

“The Helms Number One has come in at a hundred barrels a day. That’s great. Wouldn’t Dad be proud?”

Chance had sent the numbers, so he knew the well
was producing. But something about the awe in his brother’s voice when he said “Dad” got to him, and the words bubbled to the surface before he could stop them. “How well did you know Dad?”

“What?” Kid looked puzzled. “I knew him as well as you or Cadde did.”

“I didn’t know him at all,” Chance murmured.

“You’re talking crazy,” Cadde exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Suddenly Chance couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt them. “Nothing,” he replied. “Forget I said anything.” He headed for the door.

Kid kicked it shut before Chance reached it. “Oh, no. You started this and we’re going to finish it.”

“Sit down,” Cadde said. “What’s bothering you about Dad?”

Chance plopped into a leather chair and took a long, deep breath. “I’ve kept a secret for a lot of years and I’ve debated over and over whether to tell you. Considering how we felt about Dad, I thought it best not to.”

“Why?” Cadde asked.

“It would hurt you too much.”

Kid slapped Chance’s shoulder. “Come on. We’re grown men and we can take anything.”

Maybe they could. Maybe he had blown the whole thing out of proportion. “I wasn’t asleep the whole time in the backseat like I told the highway patrol. Mom and Dad yelling at each other woke me up.”

“What were they yelling about?” Kid asked.

Chance looked down at his closed hands, feeling a pain as deep as he’d felt that night. “Dad told Mom he
was leaving her for another woman. Said he had fallen in love. That he didn’t mean for it happen, it just did.” Chance drew a scorching breath. “Mom asked if he was leaving her and us boys. He said yes. That we were old enough to take care of ourselves. That’s when Mom hit him, screaming over and over, ‘Who is she?’ He lost control of the car and it veered into the ditch and hit the tree. Flames shot out from under the hood and Mom screamed, ‘Chance!’ It was the last thing she said.”

He paused for a second and suddenly couldn’t breathe. It took a moment before he could say another word. “I jumped out and tried to open Mom’s door but it was burning hot and wouldn’t budge.” Chance opened his hands and saw the scars that he would carry for the rest of his life.

T
OTAL SILENCE FELL
upon the room.

Cadde finally stood. “Who was the woman?”

“I don’t know. Mom tried to get Dad to say who she was, but he wouldn’t.”

“Why have you kept this to yourself all these years?”

“I couldn’t hurt you like I was hurt. But I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

“Come on, Chance,” Kid said. “Dad was a married man and he had a woman on the side. So what? A lot of men do that. I think it’s almost normal.”

Before Chance knew what he was doing, he was out of his chair and swinging his fist at his brother’s jaw. The blow sent Kid flying to the floor.

Chance pointed a finger at his brother’s shocked face. “Don’t you dare make excuses for him. Ever! You didn’t hear Mom crying. You didn’t hear her screaming. You didn’t hear her beg him not to go, and you didn’t see her face against the car window, covered in blood…”

“Chance, calm down.” Cadde patted his shoulder. “I don’t think Kid meant it that way.”

Their brother lumbered to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “I can speak for myself.”

“Think about it, Kid,” Chance said. “He was not only leaving Mom, he was leaving us. He’d put earnest money down on a house in Houston for his new love. He was leaving High Cotton and not coming back. The man who taught us about love, fidelity and life was a liar and a cheater. You may be able to laugh it off, but I can’t—and haven’t been able to for over twenty years.”

“I’m not laughing it off,” Kid growled. “I just need a reason he’d do something like that. I…I…God, how could he leave us?” The weight of the truth seemed to paralyze him.

“I need a drink,” Cadde said. “Let’s go to the apartment and have a toast to dear ol’ dad.” He stopped by the table bearing the photo of the four of them. “He knew he was leaving when Mom took this.” Suddenly, Cadde picked up the photo and slammed it against the wall, shattering the glass into a million pieces.

They stared at the broken shards for a moment and then walked out.

In the apartment, Cadde opened the liquor cabinet. “What’ll it be, boys? Jack Daniels or some of Roscoe’s best Kentucky whiskey?”

“I like the best,” Kid said, sinking onto the leather sofa.

“Me, too,” Chance replied, joining him.

Cadde poured the liquor and brought them each a glass, placing the bottle on the glass coffee table.

Kid took a swallow and rubbed the left side of his face. “I think you broke my jaw.”

“You big baby,” Cadde said, sitting in a large, comfy armchair.

“Who knew Chance had a mean right.” Kid poured more whiskey.

“I’m not that scrawny kid you used to beat up,” Chance told him.

“Yeah. I believe it.”

Cadde held up his glass. “To dear ol’ dad. May he rest in some sort of peace.”

They clinked glasses and downed the whiskey.

Cadde stretched his long legs out in front of him. “All these years I’ve busted my ass to please Dad, but I realize now I wasn’t doing it for him. I was doing it for myself. This is
my
dream.”

“Here’s to dreams,” Chance said for a toast.

The more they drank the more they talked.

“Remember when I was dating Stacey Tullous in high school?”

“Yeah,” Chance and Kid chorused.

“When things were getting a little serious, Dad said, ‘Boy, you’d better keep your pants zipped. You don’t want an unexpected pregnancy.’ Then he went on about love and fidelity and to make sure she was the right one. He didn’t want his boys to be adulterers. Hell, I was only sixteen.”

“He told me the same thing about Lucinda Littlefield.” Kid leaned his head against the leather. “I guess he didn’t practice what he preached. I was just fourteen. I wasn’t serious about anything.”

“You’re still not,” Cadde told him.

Kid held up his glass. “Here’s to I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass.”

Chance looked at him. “You do know the receptionist is easy?”

“Hell, yeah.” Kid took another swallow. “But a sure thing is better than sleeping alone after a long day.” He looked down into his glass. “I wonder whatever happened to Lucky Littlefield. She hated it when I called her Lucinda.”

Chance poured another round. “She’s still in High Cotton. She left after high school, but came back when her dad fell ill.”

“What does she look like now?” Kid asked curiously.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I was just thinking about her.”

“She’s not the same teenager who used to fawn all over you.”

Kid raised his glass. “Now that’s a pity.”

Cadde poured more liquor. “Reality sucks.”

“That’s why I never told you.” Chance knew what Cadde was talking about.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. At sixteen, there’s no telling what I would have done, but instead I pushed and pushed myself to succeed. Thanks to Roscoe I now own a big part of this oil company.”

The room began to sway, and Chance had to squint to see Cadde. Wh-oh, he’d had too much booze. He heard a snore and saw that Kid was asleep with the glass in his hand. Chance put the glass on the table and the world faded away….

He awoke to the smell of coffee. Chance lay half on
and half off the sofa, with his head against Kid’s thigh. His brother was still out. Chance sat up and winced.

Cadde brought coffee to them. “Wake up, boys. It’s a workday.”

“Every day is a workday to you.” Kid sat up, holding his head.

“What a pair of weaklings,” Cadde teased, handing them each a cup of coffee.

“How come you don’t have a hangover?” Chance asked.

“When you’re in the oil business, you’d better learn to hold your liquor when you drink with the big boys.”

“Who knew you were so talented,” Kid muttered.

Chance took a sip of coffee, holding the cup with both hands. “My head is pounding.”

“I can’t feel mine.” Kid tried to stand and fell back on the sofa.

Cadde sat in his chair nursing his coffee. “I don’t know if we settled anything last night, but I think it’s time to let Mom and Dad rest in peace.”

“I feel a lot better getting it off my chest.” Chance gingerly got to his feet.

“We’ll never know what happened between them or what happened to Dad to make him change. It was personal and it was their lives. Now we have to let it go and live our lives our way, without bitterness or sadness.”

“Who does he sound like?” Kid asked Chance.

“Dad,” he answered, and laughed.

The three brothers hugged tightly for a long time. “We’re gonna make it,” Chance said at last.

And they would, he felt sure. The hole in his heart had shrunk considerably. He had done the right thing in telling them. Facing it together was much better than facing it alone.

Cadde was the first to pull away. “Now let’s make Shilah the best independent oil company in Texas.”

“You got it, big brother.” Kid winced. “Just as soon as I can walk.”

Chance laughed, and it felt good to laugh with his brothers. The past had truly been put to rest.

T
HE BEAUTY SHOP WAS FULL
. Shay barely had time to run next door and fix her mother’s lunch. Then Blanche wanted her back rubbed. After Blanche ate, Shay helped her to the bathroom. Making sure Blanche had her cell, she hurried back to the shop, ten minutes late for her next appointment.

It was Mrs. Beasley, who liked to express her opinions. But Nettie was entertaining her by reading her palm while her own customer was under the dryer. When Shay was a little girl Nettie had told her that she was half witch and half gypsy, and that she had magical powers. Darcy was now hearing the same stories.

Looking at Nettie, Shay believed she might be part gypsy or witch. Who knew? Nettie had a lot of fun with it. She wore long, full skirts and gypsy blouses, with lots and lots of jewelry. A colorful scarf was tied around her head and her gray hair, streaked with purple and green, flowed down her back. She was definitely different, and once people met her they never forgot her.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Beasley,” Shay said.

“That’s okay.” The seventy-years-plus woman got up and sat in Shay’s chair. “Nettie was reading my palm. She said I was going to meet a stranger who would change my life. God, I hope it’s a man. The one I’ve got is getting a little tiring.”

Nettie winked at Shay.

Shay looked at Mrs. Beasley in the mirror. “We’re coloring your hair today, right?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Beasley ran her hands through the short gray strands. “I’m thinking I’d like to be a blonde.”

“What?”

“Kind of like yours.”

Had the woman lost her mind?

“Come on, Helen.” Nettie joined the conversation. “You don’t want to be a blonde. You’ll have all these men chasing you and your husband will get jealous and leave. Then you’ll have to go back to work to make a living.”

“One of the other men will support me.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Nettie told her. “All they want is sex.”

Mrs. Beasley’s face turned a light shade of pink and she shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “What do you think, Shay?”

“I think your hair is lovely the way it is.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Beasley replied. “I’ll keep it gray. I just wanted a change.”

Don’t we all.

“How about if we make it a lighter shade?” Shay asked.

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

An hour later Mrs. Beasley gazed in the mirror at her new color. Shay held her breath.

“I love it!” the old lady exclaimed. “You always know what’s best for me.”

“Thank you,” Shay replied. “It looks very nice.”

“Herman likes it, too,” Nettie added.

“Nettie, your husband has been dead for fifteen years. He can’t see me and you can’t hear him.”

“Whatever.”

They had the “Herman” conversation every week in the shop. Shay stayed out of it. If Nettie wanted to believe her deceased husband talked to her, that was fine with her.

Mrs. Beasley opened her purse, pulled out a wad of bills and placed them in Shay’s hand. “I’ll see you next week.”

When she’d left, Shay straightened the money and counted it. “She gave me a ten-dollar tip, Nettie.”

“She must really love that color.” Nettie laughed.

Mrs. Kellis was in Nettie’s chair now, getting curling rods put in for another tight perm. “Helen must be losing her mind,” she commented. “A blonde? She should do something about all those wrinkles on her face.”

Nettie held up her fingers like claws and hissed like a cat.

“I’m not being catty,” Mrs. Kellis insisted. “But if you want to hear catty… Did you hear that Peggy down the street is cheating on her husband?”

Another cheating story. Shay sighed. Did anyone stay faithful?

The mailman walked in and Shay was glad. She didn’t have to listen.

“Good afternoon, Shay,” Ralph said. “I have a certified letter that requires your signature.”

She scribbled her name on his electronic tablet and he handed her an envelope. Her eye went to the return address. The DNA test results. Now the Calhouns would know what she’d known since she was a child. Chance would, too. She had decided to put Chance out of her mind and out of her life. But why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

As she started to open it, Ralph said, “Here’s the rest of your mail.”

She took it and waved goodbye. Looking through the small bundle, she let out a scream. Quickly ripping open another envelope, she pulled out a check and waved it at Nettie. “My insurance company finally came through. Now I can buy a car.”

“Good for you, hon,” Nettie replied. “What’s the certified letter about?”

“Just business stuff,” she said, staring at Nettie and hoping she got the message. Shay didn’t want to talk about the Calhouns in front of Mrs. Kellis. It would be all over the neighborhood in thirty minutes.

Glancing at her watch, she realized it was almost time for Darcy to come home from school. Shay busily started to clean the shop for the day. The putrid scent of permanent solution burned her nose, so she opened the small window to let in some fresh air.

She didn’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t had Nettie in her life. With her help, Shay had gotten her beautician’s license and started working her way through college. She was starting her third year when her mother had become ill. There was no one else to take care of her; Blanche’s lovers were nowhere in sight. When Blanche was down, she’d turned to her daughter for help. Shay couldn’t say no, so she’d dropped out of school and worked at Nettie’s to be close to home.

Nettie had converted her one-car garage into a beauty shop many years ago, and it was crowded and cluttered. A desk with a cash register stood at the front door. Shelves of beauty supplies covered a side wall. On the other wall were two hairdresser chairs and mirrors. Two hair dryers stood against the back, while to the right was a washer and dryer and sink for shampooing hair. Nettie had a colorful partition set up, but they could never wash towels while customers were in the shop. It was too noisy.

After gathering the dirty towels, Shay put them in the machine, for Nettie to turn on later. As she cleaned her station and swept the worn linoleum floor, her thoughts kept drifting. Her friend Beth had died about a year after Blanche had gotten sick. Shay had worked with Beth in an upscale beauty salon in Houston. Her friend had been in love with a loser, but Shay never told her that. When he heard about the baby, he’d told Beth she was on her own.

Beth had been devastated and Shay had helped her all she could. She was the first person to hold Darcy
and was always there for babysitting. It had been rough, though, with Beth and Blanche sick at the same time. Shay didn’t think life could get any worse, and then her friend had died. Shay was almost paralyzed with sadness.

It was a big adjustment for all of them, especially Blanche, who wanted all of her daughter’s attention.

As Shay put the broom in the small closet, she saw the school bus drive up, and her heart beat a little faster. She loved Darcy as if she were her own.

She watched out the window as her adopted daughter jumped off the bus—alone. No Petey today. Darcy stomped toward the beauty shop, dragging her backpack behind her. Her face was scrunched into a frown. Something was wrong. Had she been disciplined again for talking too loud on the bus? No. It had to be something else.