Texas Born (11 page)

Perhaps she should just pack up and leave
him. Be rid of him for good. No, she'd considered doing that
before, but she'd always come to the same conclusion: there was no
way she could make it on her own. She was too dependent on him.
Strange as it seemed, she and Bazzel were a family of sorts.

She could hear Bazzel's loud, sharp snores.
He always snored loudly since he'd developed adenoid trouble.

She glanced around the dark room, smelling
the redolent fragrance of pine emanating from the Christmas tree. A
strange ache of loneliness and despair stole over her. In the rush
to leave York and come here, she'd almost forgotten.

It was Christmas.

She could feel tears stinging in her
eyes.

It was hours before she finally cried herself
into a fitful sleep.

While she had been pregnant with Jenny,
Elender had promised herself that, no matter what, she would create
a warm, loving home steeped in honest values and traditions for the
child she was bringing into the world. Subsequently she had
selected what she considered to be the best of all possible
worlds—what shed known from her own poor but happy childhood, and
the good things (yes, there had been good things too) shed observed
as a servant in the Cromwell mansion on Beacon Hill. As a result,
she mixed these select experiences judiciously so that, together,
they created a graciousness, a warmth, and a sense of ethics rarely
seen outside the best homes. She had kept her vow, providing Jenny
with everything that an 'aunt' possibly could.

And now, with Elizabeth-Anne, her generosity
and love knew no bounds. Since this was Elizabeth-Anne's first—and
last—Christmas here, she intended to make it truly, truly
special.

Christmas Day began early for Elender. She
got up long before anyone else stirred, quietly preparing for the
festivities ahead. There was breakfast to be cooked and served
across the street at the Good Eats Café, as it was every morning,
but the late lunch in the rooming house was a feast that needed
more than half a day to prepare. There would be the cream of
vegetable soup she'd learned to make from the Cromwells' cook, the
big goose, which had been brought, slaughtered and already plucked,
by the farmers who supplied all her meats and poultry, the sweet
cherry syrup which would accompany it, the mashed potatoes and
candied yams, the vegetables, glazed in caramel, the apple and
pumpkin pies topped with dollops of thick rich whipped cream . . .
everything had to be cooked to perfection, and that took time.

She started the day by carrying the gifts,
tagged and gaily wrapped, downstairs from their hiding place in the
attic. Traditionally she would arrange them under the tree, but
because the Grubbs were rooming in the parlor, she stacked them on
the hallway table instead. She had to make two trips—not only were
there gifts for Jenny and Elizabeth-Anne, but a thoughtful little
something for each of her roomers, be it tins of home-baked cakes
and cookies, a shawl or sweater she had knit, a pair of gloves or
woolen socks she knew they needed.

In the midst of arranging the packages, she
paused and eyed herself thoughtfully in the mirror above the table.
She had always prided herself on her fairness, kindness, and sense
of decorum, was and had always been acutely attuned to other
people's sensitivities, and now she realized that the arrival of
the Grubbs put her in an embarrassing position. There were gifts
for everyone but them. Of course, how was she to know they'd
arrive? And on Christmas Eve of all times? Still, she would have to
come up with a little something for them. Christmas was, above all,
a time for sharing, a time for celebration and joy.

But it was not a time of joy for her.

The Grubbs had come to take Elizabeth-Anne
away.

It would be a miserable Christmas.

When Elizabeth-Anne entered the kitchen she
was wearing thick woolen stockings, a flannel skirt, and a heavy
knit sweater. She could already hear everyone moving about in the
house, but only Elender and Jenny were in the little-used kitchen;
with special exceptions, cooking was usually done at the café
across the street.

Elizabeth-Anne glanced into the big adjoining
dining room. It was still empty, but places had already been set on
the gleaming waxed table in anticipation of breakfast. She noticed
that two extra place settings had been squeezed in for the
Grubbs.

The big kitchen was snugly warm and smelled
delicious. A half-hour earlier, Auntie had put the big Christmas
goose, stuffed with a mouth-watering mixture of bread crumbs,
finely chopped goose giblets and drippings, herbs, and diced Granny
Smith apples into the wood stove, where it roasted slowly.

When she heard Elizabeth-Anne's footsteps,
Elender looked up from the pastry she was rolling and smiled.
Quickly she wiped her hands on her apron, rushed across the room,
and scooped her high into the air. 'Good morning, Elizabeth-Anne!'
Elender kissed her warmly. 'Merry Christmas!'

In reply, Elizabeth-Anne coiled her arms
around her neck and returned her kiss.

Elender set Elizabeth-Anne down, placed her
hands on her shoulders, and propelled her toward the kitchen table.
'As soon as you finish your breakfasts, you and Jenny can open your
presents,' she said.

Elizabeth-Anne nodded, and Elender busied
herself at the stove. There was a sizzling sound as pancake batter
hit the greased hot skillet.

With all the heat from the cooking,
Elizabeth-Anne didn't need her sweater. She pulled it off and
draped it over the back of her chair. Then she scraped the chair
out from under the table and sat down. A moment later Elender
placed a mug of steaming hot milk and slid a plate with a big
golden pancake in a puddle of rich syrup in front of
Elizabeth-Anne. Then she went back to her pastry.

Jenny, who'd already finished eating, shot
Elizabeth-Anne a piercing look from across the table. 'Hurry up and
finish eating, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' she hissed impatiently.

'Leave her be,' Elender called over her
shoulder. 'Eating fast makes for bad digestion. The presents are
not going to run away.' Then she turned around slowly, placed her
hands on her hips, and looked questioningly at Jenny. 'Well? I
didn't hear you wishing Elizabeth-Anne a Merry Christmas.'

'I didn't hear her wishing me one either,'
Jenny retorted tartly.

'Jenny . . .' Elender's voice held a warning
note.

'Merry Christmas, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' Jenny sang
in a loud, sweet voice.

Elizabeth-Anne looked at her and smiled
hesitantly.

'Even if I don't see why I should wish you
anything,' Jenny added under her breath.

'What's that?' Elender asked sharply.

'I was just telling 'Lizbeth-Anne that I
wondered what our presents are, Auntie,' Jenny replied
innocently.

Elender fixed her with a long look before she
turned around again.

Elizabeth-Anne picked up her teaspoon and
carefully skimmed the thick, wrinkled layer of cream from the top
of her milk. She blew on it so it would cool and then ate it with
relish. She licked the white mustache off her upper lip with her
tongue. She loved the sweet richness of the cream; it was her
favorite part of breakfast. She took two cubes of sugar from the
china bowl and plopped them into her milk. With the spoon, she
tapped the cubes gently to break them up, and stirred.

Jenny glanced at Elender. She was busy
pinching the pastry around a shallow round pie tin, her back
turned. Taking advantage of the situation, Jenny gave
Elizabeth-Anne a swift sharp kick under the table. 'Hurry up!' she
mouthed silently.

When Elizabeth-Anne ignored her, Jenny's
patience snapped. She reached out, grabbed the pancake off
Elizabeth-Anne's plate with her fingers, and began gobbling it
down, all the while glancing at Elender from the corners of her
eyes.

Elender's back was still turned.

The pancake finished, Jenny slid
Elizabeth-Anne's mug over to her side of the table and exchanged it
with her own empty mug. She blew on the hot, sweet milk and sipped
it, blew on it some more, and took big gulps. Elizabeth-Anne could
only stare curiously, astonished at her speed.

A moment later Jenny scraped back her chair
and jumped to her feet. ' 'Lizbeth-Anne's finished, Auntieeeeee . .
.' Her words trailed off into silence. Elender had turned around,
arms akimbo, and was glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

Jenny suddenly turned pale.

'I saw what you did, Jennifer Sue Clowney.'
Elender's voice was unnaturally harsh as she wagged an admonishing
finger at her. 'I'm ashamed of you!'

Jenny burst into tears and ran from the
kitchen. A moment later the slam of her door reverberated from down
the hall.

Elender shut her eyes and took a deep,
painful breath. She felt a tightening in her stomach. She wished
now that she'd pretended she hadn't noticed what Jenny had done. Of
all the days of the year, Christmas was one she didn't want spoiled
in any way. Not for the roomers, not for Jenny, and not for
herself. And this year, especially not for Elizabeth-

Anne, since she wouldn't be here very much
longer. But Jenny had been getting away with far too much lately,
constantly testing her authority. If she didn't put her foot down
now, she would only get more and more selfish and spoiled.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that
Elizabeth-Anne had twisted around in her chair and was gazing at
her with wide and sympathetic eyes.

Elender smiled sadly at her, slid a saucepan
from the burner over to the cold side of the stove, and then
marched, with grim, terse footsteps, down the hall to Jenny's room.
Elizabeth-Anne slipped off her chair and followed quietly.

Jenny was lying facedown on her bed, sobbing
into her pillows. Elender motioned for Elizabeth-Anne to go back to
the kitchen; then she shut the door softly and approached the bed.
'Jennifer.'

Jenny sniffed noisily, lifted her head, and
turned around, a bitter, challenging look on her wet, red face.

'You deserve to be severely punished,'
Elender said in a quivering voice. 'Ever since Elizabeth-Anne came
here, you've treated her miserably. Don't think I haven't noticed.
But this time you've gone too far.' She shook her head in
exasperation. 'Don't you have any heart?' she whispered. 'Don't you
know what she's been through?'

'
She's
been through!' Jenny wailed
uncharitably, hopping up into a sitting position. 'She's taken
over
, Auntie! Everything's 'Lizbeth-Anne this, 'Lizbeth-
Anne that! You don't even love me anymore!' Jenny's tears poured
down her cheeks.

'You know that's not true, Jenny,' Elender
said quietly. But she bit down on her lip, knowing that Jenny's
accusation was close—too close—to the truth. She loved Jenny.
Always would, no matter what she did. Jenny was, after all, her
only daughter, even if she could never admit it publicly, let alone
share it with her privately. It was just that, compared with Jenny,
Elizabeth-Anne was so . . .
angelic
. So sweet and obedient
and good-hearted. After witnessing the devastating fire and the
nightmarish deaths of her family and friends, and suffering her
subsequent loss of speech . . . well, how could one's heart
not
go out to her?

'Get up, Jenny,' Elender said wearily, 'and
dry your tears. You're not going to be punished, because it's
Christmas. But let me warn you . . .' Her voice was stern and icy.
'One more incident . . .'

Jenny got up slowly, but her words came
swiftly. 'I'll be good, Auntie,' she promised. 'I'm sorry, really I
am! It's just that I didn't think you loved—'

Elender swiftly embraced her. 'I'll always
love you, Jenny,' she said softly, pressing the child's head toward
her bosom. 'I'll always love you. More than anyone else in the
world. You've got to believe that.'

But in her heart, Elender knew she was
telling a lie. Perhaps she could fool Jenny, but she wasn't fooling
herself. She would always love her daughter, yes, but she could not
love her more than Elizabeth-Anne. Jenny would simply not permit
such unquestioning, pure, blind love. She was, at heart, cold,
conceited, selfish, and spiteful. She always had to have her own
way, even if it meant hurting others.

And whose fault was that?

Mine
, Elender thought to herself,
suddenly feeling a hot rush of guilt.
Mine, and mine alone.
Jenny inherited those traits from Arthur Jason Cromwell. She is his
daughter as well as mine. If I'd been strong enough, brave enough,
to flee the Cromwell mansion when he . . .

She frowned to herself and cast those
thoughts away. She hadn't been strong enough or brave enough: it
was water under the bridge.

Her lips quivered into a smile. 'Come on,
Jenny. Let's go open the presents and forget this, all right?' She
placed a finger under Jenny's chin and lifted it.

Jenny nodded and smiled slowly. 'Yes,
Auntie,' she said softly.

Elender put her arm around Jenny's shoulder,
and together they left the room.

That wasn't so hard
, Jenny thought.
All I had to do was appeal to her emotions. I can always play on
Auntie 's soft spot.

Elender lowered two large brightly wrapped
packages each into Jenny's and Elizabeth-Anne's outstretched arms.
She smiled as the girls struggled under the weight of them. 'You
may open them in the kitchen,' she said, turning as she heard
footsteps behind her. The Grubbs were coming down the hall. 'Merry
Christmas,' Elender greeted them warmly.

' 'Mornin',' Bazzel said crisply.

Amanda smiled bleakly and pushed a limp lock
of stray hair out of her eyes. 'Good mornin', Miz Clowney.' She
looked shyly down at her feet. 'Merry Christmas.'