Honky Tonk Christmas (12 page)

“It’s not polite to ask a woman how old she is, but I’m twenty-six. My brothers are thirty, thirty-two, thirty-three, and thirty-four. Momma had three in three years, waited a couple of years, had Miles, and then I came along four years after that.”

“What are their names?”

“Jeff is the oldest. He’s married to Lisa. Then there’s Matthew and Clara, and Bart and Fiona, and Miles and Jenny,” she said.

“They all redheaded?”

“No, I’m the only one with red hair. They say that Great-Grandma Waverly had red hair and it waited a few generations to pop back up. Momma says that I’m just like her. Independent. Willful and headstrong. What about Callie? Did she have green eyes and dark hair like you?”

Holt chuckled. “Callie had light brown eyes like Waylon and her hair was blond. No, that’s too general. It was corn silk yellow like Mother’s. She was almost as tall as I am and very slim built. Her husband was full-blood Hispanic. They’d gone to school together from kindergarten up. Ray might have grown up to be a good man but he was just a kid with too many responsibilities. They were barely eighteen when they married and they both still had a lot of running around and play left in them. Then he was killed and Callie had to grow up too fast. She had two kids to raise and she couldn’t even take care of herself. Her in-laws did what they could, but hell, they weren’t even forty yet so they didn’t want to be strapped down to the job of raising two little babies. I did what I could. I was out in east Texas on a big job trying to make enough money to help support her and the kids when the accident happened.”

“Why didn’t you take them all with you on jobs like you do now?” Sharlene asked.

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I did what I could. Callie refused to leave Mineral Wells. Her in-laws moved there when she and Ray were in high school so it was only natural for them to rent a place over there when they married. Her excuse was that she had Ray’s relatives to keep the kids while she worked, but I knew she liked her wild friends. I don’t see a one of your brothers setting the road on fire from Corn to Mingus to drag you out of a beer joint. There’s not a lot of difference, is there?”

“Not a one of my brothers knows I have a beer joint and besides, it’s different. I don’t have two children,” she smarted off.

“Yeah, that really does make it different,” he answered coldly.

She clamped her mouth shut. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that all four of her brothers and her father would blaze a trail to Mingus if they knew she was a bartender. They’d be worse than Ruby Lee’s preacher father had been. He would have stood in the parking lot thumping on his Bible and saving souls from the scorching fires of hell brought on by beer and loose-legged women. Her brothers would storm past Luther and carry her out like a sack of potatoes over their shoulders back to Corn where they’d put her in chains in the storm cellar until she agreed never to go back to the Honky Tonk.

And that would mean I’d grow old and gray surrounded by Momma’s canned peaches and jelly because they’d never get that kind of promise from me. And Holt Jackson had better keep his mouth closed tightly or I’ll show him just how much temper a red-haired Waverly has.

“Tell me more about Iraq,” he said.

“Why?” She wasn’t through pouting.

“Because it’s still a long way and I don’t like this uncomfortable silence.”

“What do you want to know?” Sharlene asked.

“Did you know anyone that left kids behind and their folks had to take care of them?” he asked.

“My friend Maria was a nurse in the hospital. She had a little daughter, Abby. She used to kiss her picture a dozen times a day. I caught her crying in the supply room more than one time when they brought in the children who’d been hurt,” Sharlene said.

“Did Maria come home?” Holt asked softly.

Sharlene nodded. “She was one of the four friends who I was with that night in Weatherford. Abby is in first grade now and Maria has remarried.”

“That would be tough, dealing with the hurt children,” Holt said.

“It was. One night Maria called me down to the emergency bay from the office and she was holding a blanket. They’d brought a baby no more than six months old in wrapped up in that blanket. Her mother, father, and older sister were all dead. Her grandmother brought her in but it was too late. The grandmother was wailing and Maria just stood there holding the bloody blanket.”

“What did you do?”

“I put my arms around the grandmother and sat with her until she got it under control. She’d lost four that night to a suicide bomber. The family had been in the marketplace buying food for the next day.”

“And Maria?”

“She had trouble letting go of the blanket. Abby is a dark-haired, part Hispanic child, like Judd, and she had a security blanket.” Sharlene hesitated and looked out the side window for a while before she went on. “It’s not something that you can put into words. The feeling when they bring our troops into the hospital all blown to hell. And all I did was the paperwork. I never had to shove my hand inside a wound to stop the bleeding until a surgeon could get there.”

She thought about Jonah and the night she sat beside his body in the hospital. The hole in his neck and the blood. His dark eyes staring off into nothing.

She went on, “But the children are the hardest part. They should get to grow up and run and romp. They should color outside the lines and get yelled at when they don’t put their toys away. They shouldn’t be carrying rifles or letting some zealot tell them they are dying for the greater good when they strap enough C4 on them to blow up fifty people in a marketplace.”

“I’m not sure I even agree with this war,” Holt said.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t. We’re over there fighting a civil war that’s never going to end. It’s another Viet Nam and there will be no winners, only losers. And the children are the biggest losers. They’ll never know a country that isn’t blown to hell and back. And our troops… it changes everyone who goes there. One way or the other, they don’t come home the same person that first set foot on the desert sand.”

“How did it change you?” Holt asked.

“It made me appreciate things like quietness and grass. The little things that I got up every morning and took for granted.”

“Wouldn’t want to go back then?”

“After the first tour I didn’t want to go back but that’s where they sent me after a two-week leave. I thought since I’d already done my year it was over but it didn’t work that way. I was deployed right back to my same old duty station. And no, I don’t ever want to see that kind of pain and suffering again,” she said.

“But were there good times that you can latch onto and remember?” he asked.

“Of course. There’s a camaraderie that can’t be explained. It goes almost as deep as blood kin because you have to depend on each other so much. But it’s crazy because when you come home, you aren’t so sure you want to see those people again.”

Holt nodded. “Because even though there were good times, seeing them reminds you of the bad ones?”

“That’s right,” she said. “It took four years for the five of us who shared a barrack to get together again. We enjoyed a day and night and we had a good time but we couldn’t get that feeling of dependence on each other back again. We’ve each moved on and it’s in different directions. I’m not so sure that we’d have even been friends if we’d all known each other in high school.”

“Tell me about the other four. You ever plan on seeing them again?”

“I made a drunken promise to go see each of them this fall when my book comes out. They’re setting up book signings in each of their towns for me. It’s a big thing for them and me too. Now I wish I hadn’t made the promise but I’ll keep my word,” she said.

“Why do you wish that?”

“I don’t do so well with public appearances,” she said.

“Hey, just remember the people who attend are interested in your writing and want to hear about it,” he said.

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“Now tell me about the other four.”

“Okay. Kayla was from a little podunk town in Oklahoma just like me. She joined the military for the training and for the GI Bill benefits when she got out. She was smart but poor and grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. She’d seen more in her eighteen years than any of the rest of us. Her mother was a drunk and her father had flown the coop when she was too little to even remember him. She used to say that war wasn’t anything compared to the fights she’d seen between her mother and her boyfriends.”

“And Maria?” Holt asked.

“Half Hispanic. Got married her first year of college and let her sorry husband talk her into joining the Air Guard with him. It would only be one weekend a month and just look at all the money they’d have for that weekend’s work. She got pregnant. He finished his time with the Guard and decided not to reenlist but she still had a couple of years. He filed for divorce when Abby was born and her unit got sent to Iraq.”

Holt shook his head. “That’s sorry luck. Two down, two to go. Tell me about the others.”

She almost smiled.

“What?” he asked.

“Lelah. She could make you laugh even in the worst of days.”

“What’s her story?”

“She joined when she was hungover. Got drunk the night of her bachelorette party and decided she wasn’t ready to get married. The next morning she walked into the recruiting station and joined the army. Her fiancé called off the wedding the day before the ceremony because he said he couldn’t be married to the military. She told us that’s exactly what she wanted him to do. She’s the oldest one of us and had a degree in nursing. The army didn’t even hiccup when they shoved the papers at her. She’s in Florida now. Says she likes that sand better than Iraqi sand.”

“And the fourth one?” Holt asked.

“That would be Joyce. The quiet one. Her mother sent her a food package every week and she shared with us. We ate lots of Skittles and beef jerky because that’s what she liked.”

“What was her story?”

“She believed in the war, that we should take out all the terrorists.”

“And?” Holt pressed.

“After a tour, she changed her mind. She heads up a committee against it now,” Sharlene said.

“And now the fifth one of the bunch? What about Sharlene?”

“Sharlene is nearly home where she will be a good daughter for a couple of days then go back to being a barroom hussy,” she laughed.

He reached across the back of the seat and massaged her neck. “You are too tense, Sharlene. Loosen up or you’ll have a headache before we even get there.”

“You can’t understand until you’ve been to Corn,” she said. His big callused hands felt so good on her tight neck muscles.

“That family can be a nightmare. I believe I do, lady.”

She leaned forward and tilted her head to the left. “Right there. God, that feels so good.”

“You’ve got a knot as big as a baseball. Stop worryin’. I promise I won’t pick my nose or spit on the carpet,” he said.

She smiled. “For a massage like this, I’d…”

He chuckled. “You’d what?”

“Nothing.” She blushed.

She’d been about to say that she’d take him to the hay barn and spend the night with him if he’d give her a full body massage. But if he did, her skin would be so hot that she’d set the barn on fire.

“Come on. Tell me what you’d do for a full body massage with good smellin’ oil and maybe candles and music?” he teased.

Judd stretched and asked Waylon if he’d had a good nap. Holt looked back in the rearview at them.

“Saved by the bell,” he said.

“What bell? Was there a bell? I didn’t sleep. I just rested my eyes and thought about all them kids we get to play with,” Waylon said.

“Me neither,” Judd said. “How much more is it ’til we get there? And who has got a bell?”

“Just a few minutes.” Sharlene looked out the window in hopes that the blush would fade and Holt would forget about what she’d do for a massage. Just thinking the word kept her face a bright scarlet. She couldn’t imagine the color it would be if they really did wind up in that kind of place.

Good Lord, I’ve got to rein in my wicked imagination,
she thought.

“That’s forever.” Holt did his best imitation of Judd whining.

Sharlene smiled. “No, it’s not. Five hours is forever. A few minutes is just a little while and besides, I don’t color outside the lines.”

“If y’all fight you’ll have to stand in the corner,” Waylon said seriously.

“Or you won’t get to play all day and that’s even worse,” Judd chimed in.

“It is not!” Waylon declared.

“Is too,” Judd shot right back at him.

They argued about which punishment was worse.

Holt looked over at Sharlene and winked.

“You want to play nice?” he asked.

“I’ll decide later. Right now I’m hungry and I get real cranky when I’m hungry,” she said.

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your grandma Waverly must have been a handful.”

She pointed a finger at him but was careful not to let it touch him in any way. “Yes, she was and I didn’t dip into her gene pool. I fell into it and almost drowned before they fished me out and named me after her. So don’t you forget it, mister. Make a right turn at the next crossroads.”

“Bossy as well. Was your grandmother’s name Sharlene?”

“No, it was June and that’s my middle name. And Mr. Jackson, you’re skating on some thin ice saying that I’m bossy.”

“Don’t be silly, Sharlene. Uncle Holt ain’t skatin’. He’s driving us to see the kids and play. Are we almost there? How much farther is it?” Waylon asked.

“Not very far now,” Holt told him. “I bet if you look at the Bambi book real slow and really study the pictures we’ll be there before you get it done.”

Waylon turned the pages as fast as he could. When he reached the last page, a very loud voice piped up behind Sharlene, “The end.”

“Are we there yet, Sharlene? Is that the house where all them trucks and cars is parked?” Waylon look at the swings in the backyard. “Can we play on them too, Sharlene?” If Judd hadn’t been strapped down with seat belts she would have hit the ceiling the way she was jumping around and trying to see everything at once.