Bethany Campbell - A Little Town In Texas

“Whatever happened to that dog?” Kitt asked. Her ribs ached.

“He died of old age. They buried him in the backyard under a rose bush. Eva Blake still gets misty when she talks about that dog.”

Nora sighed and added, “The Blakes are eager to see you, you know—Howard and Eva. They always ask about you.”

Kitt’s mirth vanished. An uneasy guilt filled her. She owed the Blakes a great deal, and she must visit them. But she didn’t want to, not at all. They brought back memories that still gave her bad dreams.

But with false cheer she said, “Of course, I’ll go see them.”

Ken got to his feet. “You two look like you’re just getting started. I need to catch some shut-eye. I’ve got a windmill to check out soon as the light comes up. Hope it doesn’t rain again.”

He kissed Nora. It was not a perfunctory good-night kiss. It was full on the lips and lingering—not long enough to be showy, but long enough to convince Kitt how deeply he cared for his wife.

“Good night, honey,” he said in a low voice. Nora rubbed her nose against his.

Suddenly Kitt felt like an intruder. Ken wanted to make love, and Nora wanted it, too. “I should be going—” she began.

“No,” Ken said. “You girls have catchin’ up to do. You don’t need me.”

Nora was insistent. “I’m not letting you go yet. After all, it took twelve years to get you back here.”

Ken kissed Nora’s cheek and limped from the room. Nora looked fondly after him. “He’s right,” she said, turning to Kitt. “We have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll make some cocoa?”

“He seems like a good man,” Kitt said, gazing after Ken.

“He is good,” Nora said. “The best. He’s made a world of difference in my life. And Rory’s. Lord, Rory. You should see him—he’s six foot one now.”

Kitt smiled the mention of Rory. He was the one good thing to come from Nora’s marriage to Gordon Jones. But Nora’s unplanned pregnancy with Rory was why she had to marry when she was only sixteen.

Kitt, eleven then, had been horrified. But she’d grown fond of Rory, and she knew how Nora loved him and how fiercely she had always protected him. And Rory had needed protecting. Gordon was abusive.

When Kitt was in college, she got word that Gordon had died—violently. In a haze of jealousy and drugs, he’d come after Nora and Ken. Cal McKinney had tried to intervene. There was shooting, and Gordon, fleeing, had been hit by a car from the sheriff’s department.

Kitt said carefully, “Does Rory ever mention Gordon?”

“Not much. But he knows the truth. I didn’t want him to find out by the gossip—which is still going around, dammit.” Nora’s frank eyes showed a spark of anger, but it quickly faded. “He’s dealt with it fine, just fine.”

“A freshman in college—I can’t believe it.” Kitt shook her head. “And he wants to be a professor, yet. He’s your boy, all right.”

Nora’s smile was both happy and sad. “He was editor of the high school newspaper. Just like you. I wish Dottie could see him. She’d be so proud.”

“She would.” Kitt put her hand over Nora’s and squeezed it. Dottie Jones had been a widow and Gordon’s mother. She’d always loved Nora and stood by her, even when Nora divorced Gordon. Dottie had been the original owner of the Longhorn, and she’d left it in her will to Nora.

“How long have you been running the Longhorn now?” Kitt asked.

“Almost ten years, off and on. I’ve poured enough coffee to float an aircraft carrier.”

“I thought,” Kitt said carefully, “that when you got married again and went back to school, you were out of that place.”

Nora tried to shrug as if it didn’t matter, but she didn’t fool Kitt. Nora said, “Ken saw that I finished my degree. He really wanted it for me….” Her voice trailed off.

“You had a job at the high school,” Kitt said, still perplexed at what had happened to Nora. “The kids voted you Best Teacher.”

“Ken got hurt,” Nora said, going to the counter. “And that was it.”

Ken had been trying to help unload an unruly Brahma bull bought at a stock auction. The brute had kicked and pinned him against the side of the truck, half-killing him. His leg was broken, his pelvis fractured.

“He couldn’t work for a year,” Nora said, stirring the cocoa. “J.T. did everything in his power to help. But at the same time, the school system was having money problems—no raises—and I could make better money going back to the Longhorn and managing it myself.”

“What I’ve never understood,” Kitt said with a frown, “is why the school system had money problems?”

Nora shrugged and filled two cups with cocoa. “The town’s lost people. The tax burden on those left—it was getting out of hand.”

Kitt crooked an eyebrow. “But Crystal Creek should have been growing. With this location? This close to Austin? Wasn’t the town even trying to attract any kind of industry or business?”

Nora gave her on odd look. “We have an industry—cattle. We have the winery. We don’t want things like that yucky cement factory at Kelso. Or the dairy operations at Bunyard—they both pollute something fierce.”

Kitt eyed Nora with surprise. Did she believe Crystal Creek could survive without changing?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nora said, a bit defensively. She carried the cups to the table and sat down. “That Bluebonnet Meadows could actually help the town. We don’t see it like that. Our way of life is being threatened. Our heritage. Our identity.”

Your identity has got you back cleaning tables and flipping burgers, Kitt thought. But instead she said, “You plan to keep working at the Longhorn.”

Nora shrugged. “Rory’s in college. And business is steady.”

But the conversation seemed to make Nora uneasy, and she changed the subject. “What about you? I know about your work—I read every sparkling word you write. But how about life? Any love interest?”

It was Kitt’s turn to be defensive. As a reporter, she was used to talking about other people’s lives, not her own. She said, “I’m taking a break from that sort of thing.”

Nora raised an eyebrow in concern. “What about that guy who wrote for U.S. News and World Report? Weren’t you living together?”

Kitt rolled her eyes. “Reese? For a while he was kind of interesting. Then he became predictable. Then, finally, he bored me to tears.”

Nora laughed. “They always end up boring you to tears.”

Kitt had the decency to blush. This was true. She had never seriously dated a man for long. Any man who seemed vaguely like a prince quickly became a yawn-inducing frog.

“Was he handsome?” Nora asked, leaning her chin on her hand.

“Too handsome,” Kitt said. “It made him conceited.”

An image of Mel Belyle flashed through her mind. He was far better-looking than Reese. Yet Mel’s looks were somehow different from Reese’s. Something deep in his sapphire eyes was complicated—and mysterious.

She reminded herself that Mel was also more conceited than Reese—far more. Yet something about his cockiness seemed forced, more assumed than genuine. She couldn’t put her finger on it, which was maddening….

“You said he was quite bright,” Nora said.

“Reese? Very bright,” Kitt admitted. “But too serious.”

“What’s the matter with serious?” Nora asked.

“Nothing,” Kitt said. “At first it was attractive. But he had no sense of play. He didn’t have conversations, he gave lectures. Long, dull ones.”

“Ugh.” Nora wrinkled her nose.

“One day I realized that he was gorgeous, he was smart, the sex was great, but every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to scream.”