Honky Tonk Christmas (25 page)

Sharlene zeroed in on the target, inhaled and held it, blinked twice for good luck, and pulled the trigger. Then all hell broke loose. She kept yelling at her spotter to fall back forty feet and take cover but he couldn’t hear her for the buzzing helicopters. They were all over them. Bullets flew through the air like sleet pellets in a fierce north wind.

When she awoke she was sitting straight up in bed, her eyes wide and dry from refusing to blink, her heart racing, and her whole body drenched in sweat. Would the nightmares never end? Did she need to go to those meetings for war vets who couldn’t adjust?

She crawled out of bed and stood under a warm shower for half an hour. That always helped more than anything. Hot water and knowing that she was back home. There were no targets. No Jonah to spot for her. Holt knew and it had ended what might have been. Her future held a beer joint, romance novels, and nightmares.

Even if she went to those meetings no one would believe her. She could stand up in front of that little group of people who met in the basement of a church, who had cookies and coffee and no last names and tell her story.

My name is Sharlene and I was a sniper for the United States Army. I was defending my country’s freedom and I’m very good at what I do but it doesn’t stop the nightmares. Or the cold sweats or the sleeplessness. The only two times I haven’t had them since I came home was when I slept with Holt Jackson.

No one in their right mind would believe a short red-haired woman, the emphasis on the last word, when I told them I was a sniper. That job is reserved for men with nerves of steel and a steady hand. Not a five-foot-three-inch woman who should be at home on the wheat farm raising kids and baking yeast bread twice a week.

They’d shuffle me over to the church basement two blocks down where they were having an anonymous meeting for liars. The cookies and the coffee would be about the same and no one would have last names there either. I could tell the same story and they’d all nod and recognize that I was a liar. Hell, I might even get the grand prize for the biggest lie told at that meeting. No wonder Holt had a change of heart about kissing me. I’m not sweet little wife material. I can shoot the eyes out of a rattlesnake from so far away he looks like an earthworm. Who wants to be married to a woman like that?

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to hear the phone ringing. It was in her purse so she hurried to the living room and grabbed it on the fourth ring.

“This is your wake-up call,” Merle said.

“I’m awake. What’s going on that you are calling me? What is today? My birthday is past and my books don’t arrive until next week,” Sharlene said.

“Today is Saturday, November thirteenth. It’s my party day to show off my new room and you are coming to help me make cookies.”

“I thought that was next week. I just got out of the shower. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Mind if I bring my clothes and change at your house?”

“Honey, you can move in my spare bedroom if you’ll make the sugar cookies and punch you made for the wedding reception for Larissa and Hank,” Merle said.

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Front door is open. Oven is preheated and I’m ready for you,” Merle said.

Sharlene threw on a pair of sweat bottoms and a T-shirt, her boots, and chose a pair of jeans and a western cutoff white lace blouse with ruffles on the cuffs to wear that evening for the party.

Half an hour later she was in the middle of Merle’s kitchen with flour smeared on her nose and her hands in a big crock bowl of cookie dough. The military anonymous club would believe that she was right where she ought to be. The liar’s club would take away her award.

Merle’s state-of-the-art kitchen had an island in the middle of the floor with a sink and stove top incorporated into it, an enormous refrigerator/freezer combo, double oven range, and every gadget that Sharlene could think of. Merle would have to offer drooling bibs at the door if her sisters-in-law ever came to visit.

Sharlene made perfect little round dough balls and lined them up on the cookie trays. “Did I ever tell you what I did in the army?”

Merle sipped her coffee. “Were you a cook? Betcha if you were them boys didn’t have such a hankering for home-cooked food.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a sniper?” Sharlene asked.

Merle set the coffee down with a thud. “Were you?”

“Yes, I was,” Sharlene said.

“Well, I reckon I owe you a thanks for your contribution in keeping my country safe first, Texas safe second, and my sorry ass safe third. Did you actually have to use your training?”

“I did.”

“How often?”

“I didn’t keep count.”

“Why are you telling me?” Merle asked.

“I have nightmares and wake up all sweaty and scared. Sometimes I forget to exhale in my sleep. I always inhaled and blinked twice for good luck. When I wake up I’m still trying to suck in air and forgetting to exhale. My chest hurts and my heart is beating so fast it feels like I’ve run a marathon.”

Merle nodded seriously. “How many women do that job over there?”

“That field isn’t open to women.” Sharlene slid the cookies into the oven. “While they’re cooking, I’ll make punch. A can of pineapple juice, one can full of water, two cups of sugar, two packages of red Kool-Aid, and a two-ounce bottle of almond extract.” She counted off the ingredients on her fingers as she added them to the gallon jug. When that was finished she made another one.

“Then you just put ice and ginger ale into that when it’s in the punch bowl, right?” Merle asked.

“See you remembered. You could do all of this, Merle Avery.”

She smiled and part of the wrinkles smoothed out. “Of course I could but I’ve got the jitters about having so many people in my house so I wanted the company. Now tell me more about this sniper business. How in the hell did you wind up in that?”

“Four older brothers and I had to keep up or get left out in the cold,” she said.

Merle shook her head slowly. “I had older brothers and I can shoot the ass end of an elephant if he’s not more than twenty feet from me. That’s not the whole thing, is it?”

Sharlene poured herself a cup of coffee and topped off Merle’s. “I’m very good at it. From the first time Daddy put a gun in my hands, I was at home with it. And I passed the psychological tests that said I could do that job without falling apart in the middle of a mission. They trained me in hospital administration work but the sniper business was classified top secret stuff. Only my spotter knew who I was and what I did and he was killed right beside me one evening. After that if they had something classified for me to do, I did it alone. I did two tours and did my job, Merle. It wasn’t until I got home that I fell apart.”

“So that’s why you didn’t stick with a job very long and was hopping from one thing to another when you lit at the Honky Tonk?” Merle asked.

“I guess so. I didn’t realize it until this minute.” Sharlene looked at the yellow daisies on the wallpaper and the lace valance on the spotlessly clean window above the stainless steel sink. So very different from the bombed out structures she’d hunkered down in so many times.

“Need to talk? It won’t go any further than this kitchen,” Merle said.

Sharlene sipped her coffee. The timer said she had five minutes before the first batch of cookies came out of the oven. “I don’t know.”

“Then you should talk. If you were totally all right with the job you had it wouldn’t be giving you bad dreams. So talk while you cook and I’ll listen. And don’t think you’ll shock me, girl. I watch all them news channels on the television while I’m designing shirts. I see what goes on over there,” Merle said.

“I told Holt a week ago and he was completely turned off by it.”

She told Merle about sitting on his porch because that was where she felt the most peaceful when the walls of the past were closing in on her and went on to tell the whole story leaving out only the part about the kissing.

“Holt Jackson is a good man. If he’s turned off by what I did then will every man in my future act the same way?” Sharlene asked.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Merle said. “I’ve been living in fear that man was your cowboy like Jarod was Daisy’s. I’m so damn sick of bartenders leaving the Tonk. I swear I was ready to buy you out if you’d fallen in love with Holt. Still will if you do.”

Sharlene pulled the cookies from the oven and slipped them off onto a cooling rack. “You said you didn’t want to own a bar.”

“I don’t. But I could buy it and get Luther and Tessa and now Darla to operate it for me. Hell, I might even force Luther and Tessa to get married before I let them manage it for me and that would cure this damn charm shit once and for all,” Merle said.

Sharlene put more cookies on the tray, slid them into the oven, and went back to her perch beside Merle. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I can’t answer it. Men are all different. Don’t seem like it but they are. Seems like they’re like elephants or zebras. You seen one and you’ve seen them all. I’m not talking about the outside of them. Some are damn fine. Some are uglier than a mud fence with cow shit on it. Some are in between. But most of us women think they’re all alike on the inside. They ain’t. Some are assholes and some are fairly decent. If Holt don’t like what you did and it drains his testosterone then you don’t need him anyway. Next man comes along in your life might not be as pretty as Holt but he might not have any problem with what you did. He might even brag about it in church on Sunday morning,” Merle said.

“Thank you.”

Holt’s deep voice called from the front door. “Hey, anyone home?”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear wearing blue jeans and a big smile most of the time. We’re in the kitchen,” Merle shouted.

Holt stopped when he saw Sharlene. No woman at home in a kitchen and looking so damn cute with flour on her nose could look down the barrel of a sniper rifle and pull the trigger. She couldn’t be that cold when her kisses were so fiery.

“Hello, Sharlene. Where’s your ugly car?” he asked.

“In the backyard. I came in through the kitchen door.”

“I see. Well, Merle, I brought the last set of blinds to hang and then the job is completely done. All right if I get it done before the kids get out of school?”

She nodded.

“So you’re picking the kids up today?” Sharlene asked.

“You’re busy with this stuff and I don’t have anything to do until Monday. I’ll pick them up today and tomorrow,” he said.

“What’s happening on Monday?” she asked.

“We’re going to build Betty and Elmer Cantrell a new barn with a tack room and horse stalls. Should take until just before Christmas if the weather stays decent,” he said.

“And after that?”

“Never know. I expect we’ll have done about all we can in this area by then. I’ll get those blinds and put them up now,” Holt said.

“Can I watch?” Sharlene asked.

Merle shook her head. “Hell, no, you can’t watch. You got cookies to make and you got to entertain me so I don’t get all antsy. The room will be unveiled in a ceremony and you don’t get to see ahead of time.”

“Ah, come on.” Sharlene grinned. At least Holt didn’t snarl when he saw her even if the way he scanned her from head to toe didn’t exactly give him droopy bedroom eyes.

“I’ll go on out and bring them in. It’ll only take a few minutes and then I’ll be out of your way,” Holt said.

“You serious about me not getting to get the first peek? I should, you know, since I’m the only one in here making cookies and punch. It could be my reward for helping,” Sharlene teased.

“No way. Only reason Holt gets to see it is because he built it and he’s putting in the last set of blinds. We had to order them special because the corner window panel was so narrow. Pay attention to your cookies. Just because the whole kitchen is het up from y’alls hot little vibes don’t mean you can forget your job,” Merle scolded.

“It is not!” Sharlene countered.

“Oh, honey. You are either dumb or blind. Maybe both. You can bury your sweet little red head in the sand all the way up to your ass but it won’t change things. Whether you act on the feelings or not is what will make a difference. Way that man looks at you is visual porn. Y’all been to bed or something?” Merle asked.

Sharlene blushed scarlet. “No, we have not!”

“Methinks you are protesting too loudly, darlin’,” Merle laughed.

“Okay, okay. We’ve been to bed but we haven’t had sex. Once when I was passed out drunk in Weatherford. Remember when I went to meet my friends? Well, he showed up at the bar and took me to my hotel. We slept together but nothing happened and then once when we went to my folks house. I took a nap out in the barn. Again nothing happened. Then there was a night when we both fell asleep on his sofa but the kids were in the next room. So we’ve slept together but we have not had sex. And all those nights I didn’t dream, Merle. What does that mean?”

Merle groaned. “That means you will be selling me the Tonk.”

“It’s not for sale. So forget it. And what makes you think that?”

“I’m old, honey. I’m not stupid,” Merle said.

“You are also full of shit,” Sharlene said. “Why isn’t he back in here yet?”

Merle rolled her eyes. “Lord, you missin’ him already?”

“No, I’m just wondering where he is?”

“He’s in the new room. There’s a door on the south side so I can go out into the garden. Next year I’m putting flower beds back there. Already got me one of them fancy park benches. I like to go out front and talk to Ruby when the flowers are in bloom. Next year I’m moving her memories to the garden. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I still miss her and it makes me feel good to visit with her every day. So to hell with anyone who doesn’t like it,” Merle said.

“Hey, I’m not saying a word. Remember, I’m the one with nightmares and who can’t sleep except when Holt holds me and now he can’t even look at me because I was an army sniper,” she said.

Why would I need a man to make me feel safe anyway? I could outshoot him any day of the week and most likely protect him. Maybe it’s not the physical safe I crave but the one inside my heart that says Holt could make me whole again. He could make it all right that I was a sniper.