Candace Camp - Hard-Headed Texan

“Foreign! Mother, what—”

“I can hardly understand that assistant of yours, that Delgado girl.”

“For heaven’s sake, Mother, Rita Delgado’s lived in Angel Eye all her life. She’s no more foreign than you or I. And she hardly even has an accent. I am sure you sound equally strange to her, with those Tidewater ‘ou’s and dropping all your ‘r’s.”

There was a pause, then Elizabeth went on. “Well, I didn’t call to argue.”

Antonia bit back the retort that rose to her lips and said mildly, “I don’t like to argue, either, Mother. Why don’t we just stay off the subject of my moving back to Virginia?”

“All right. I, uh, would you like to hear about the charity auction for the hospital?”

“Sure.” Antonia settled down to listen with one ear. She knew that her mother actually did a lot of good with all the energy that she expended on her various society charity projects. However, Antonia found the details of such projects deadly dull. Still, a dull topic was better than an acrimonious one, so she listened, murmuring enough “uh-huh’s” and “I see’s” to keep her mother going.

Finally Elizabeth paused, then cleared her throat. Now we’re getting to the real reason she called, Antonia thought.

“I ran into Alan yesterday. At the club.”

Antonia stiffened, her fingers clenching around the receiver. Her chest was suddenly so tight that she could not speak, could scarcely even breathe.

When Antonia said nothing, her mother went on. “Of course, it was a trifle awkward at first.”

“At first?” Antonia repeated incredulously. “Do you mean that then you settled down to a nice conversation with the man who put your daughter in the hospital on more than one occasion?”

“Now, Antonia…don’t twist my words. I could hardly cause a scene in the country club. I had to be polite.”

“Naturally.” Bitterness rose like bile in Antonia’s throat. Of course not causing a scene would be the most important thing to her mother.

“I listened to him, that’s all. But he, uh, he seemed sincere, Antonia. I think he has changed. He told me he had been to one of those twelve-step things.”

“I’m glad for him, then,” Antonia retorted coolly.

“He wants to see you, Antonia. He wants to talk to you.”

“Absolutely not!” Antonia cut across her mother’s words. She thought of the odd phone call she had gotten that morning, and a chill ran through her. The events of the day had put the silent caller out of her mind, but now her uneasiness came back in full force. “You didn’t give him my phone number, did you?”

“No, of course not. Really, Antonia…” Elizabeth hesitated, then said, “However, I did think that perhaps you ought to listen to him. Give him a chance. He wants to apologize, to set things right with you.”

“I have no need for that.”

“I think he does.”

“Mother, that really doesn’t matter to me.”

“He wants to try again.”

“Oh, please.”

“He means it, Antonia. I really think he does. Just think about it. You could have your old life back. You could come home.”

“I don’t want my old life back!” Antonia snapped. “Can’t you understand that? I’m doing what I want, living where I want now. Why do you persist in thinking that I am unhappy or wrong or whatever it is you think just because I don’t choose to live your lifestyle? This is what I want. This is what I love.”

“But Alan—”

“I don’t care about Alan! Frankly, I don’t understand why you do. Most mothers would despise any man who did to their daughter what he did to me.”

“Of course I detest what he did to you, Antonia. I was merely saying that he has changed.”

“Look, I sincerely doubt that Alan has reformed. I cannot tell you how many times he came to me, full of remorse and repentance, crying and begging me to forgive him, promising to make it up to me, promising to stop. They were words, that’s all. It never lasted—any more than it would this time if I went back to him.”

“But he actually has been working on it. He took a course….”

“One course does not change a lifetime, Mother. But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Say that he really has changed, that he wouldn’t beat me anymore. I still wouldn’t marry him again. After all that’s happened, after what he did to me, whatever love I felt for him is gone. I could never love him again. Just looking at him would fill me with pain and rage. For his sake, I hope he has changed, but his changing will not make me feel differently about him. I will never get back together with him, no matter what. If he was asking you to try to soften me, to persuade me to talk to him…”

“He didn’t ask me anything like that,” Elizabeth retorted stiffly. “He just asked about you—how you were and what you were doing, that sort of thing. Then he told me how much he regretted what had happened, how sorry he was. He didn’t try to persuade me to do anything. What I said to you just now—those were my thoughts. I just thought, if he’s different, you could…” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “You two were such a lovely couple.”

Antonia closed her eyes wearily. She reminded herself that her mother was as she was, and there was no changing her at this late date. Appearances mattered to her more than substance. The fact that Alan had been blessed with preppy good looks, excellent manners, and an old and distinguished family, meant far more to her than anything that had been inside him. She would always consider the two of them a lovely couple because they had looked like the country club couple personified: blond, refined, well-dressed. She had considered them perfect for each other because they knew the same people, went to the same parties, had the same backgrounds. She hadn’t seen—couldn’t see—the anger and pain that had lain beneath the surface.

“Mother…what exactly did he ask you about me? What did you tell him?”

“Oh, just things in general. I did not tell him where you lived, if that’s what you mean. He wanted to know if you had finished your studies at A&M and whether you had moved back to Virginia, and of course I said no, that you had decided to stay in Texas. Mostly he wanted to know if you were happy, that sort of thing.”

Antonia frowned. “How did he know I went to A&M?”

“Well, really, Antonia, how should I know that? It wasn’t top secret. I mean, several of our friends knew. Your friends. I’m sure somewhere along the line in the last four years, someone would have told him.”

Antonia worried her lower lip with her teeth. There had been no way to keep her whereabouts completely secret, of course, unless she had completely cut off all ties with her family and friends back home. And just because Alan knew she had been going to A&M didn’t mean that he knew anything else about her. Texas was a huge place; he couldn’t know that she lived in this small town…except, of course, that over time, her mother would probably mention the peculiar name of the town in talking to her friends, and those people might mention it to someone else, and after a while, just like the information that she was in vet school at A&M, the fact of where she lived would be floating around in the circles in which Alan moved. Circles, she added bitterly to herself, that had obviously not ostracized Alan for committing the small and pardonable sin of abusing his wife.

“Dear, I think you worry too much about whether he knows where you are. I mean, the fact that he knew where you were in school and never bothered you should reassure you, I would think.”

“That’s true,” Antonia admitted. It had been four years since their divorce, and once she had moved away from Virginia, Alan had not tried to see her again. After all this time, he would not go to the trouble of tracking her down, she told herself. There was no reason to think that the caller this morning had been Alan. “No doubt you are right, Mother. Still, it makes me feel more secure, knowing that he doesn’t know where I live.”