Where The Heart Is Part 31

"If you're right, then I deserved Woody Sams and I deserved what he did to me. He said he was gonna be a daddy to my kids because he couldn't have kids of his own. 'The mumps,' he said.

Well," Lexie rubbed her swollen belly, "I've got his mumps right here."

"Lexie, I didn't mean-"

"So he hangs around longer than most of the others, long enough to get me knocked up, then he walks out on me . . . no, let me correct that. He rides rides out on his Harley, with out on his Harley, with my my dutch oven and dutch oven and my my king-sized pillows. Rides out of town in the middle of the night, leaves me pregnant with number five, and you're telling me we can only get what we deserve? That's the best we can hope for?" king-sized pillows. Rides out of town in the middle of the night, leaves me pregnant with number five, and you're telling me we can only get what we deserve? That's the best we can hope for?"

"Well, Lexie, you said it yourself. Girls like us don't get the pick of the litter."

"Vanilla," Certain said.

"Right." Novalee turned away from the pay phone in the IGA and whispered "vanilla" to Americus, who thumped her head again, a gesture she was about to perfect.

"Novalee. That Ray called here again. Said he needs to talk to you today."

249.

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. Just that it's important."

"All right. What's that number?"

"765-4490."

"I'll call him."

As soon as Novalee hung up, she put another quarter in the phone and punched in the number Certain had given her. A man answered on the first ring.

Ten minutes later, Novalee pulled into Sister's driveway and parked behind a dark brown Buick as a small, thin man slid out of the driver's seat and walked back to meet her.

"Hi. My name's Ray," he said.

Novalee shook the hand he offered, but she wasn't aware of the pressure of his fingers or the smoke from his cigarette or the clean, pine smell of his aftershave. She didn't see the fleck of tobacco stuck to his lower lip or the deep-set gray eyes that looked wounded and tired.

She was looking past him, just over his shoulder . . . looking past his Buick, past the driveway.

The trailer was gone. And the place where it had been showed no evidence it was ever there at all.

Nothing was left. Not the braces that had been wedged against the wheels, not the concrete blocks that had supported the tongue, not the aluminum that had wrapped around the underpinning. There wasn't a shard of gla.s.s or a strip of tin . . . not a block of wood or even a brick.

It was all gone-the porch and the storage shed, the trellis and the birdbath. Swept smooth and clean. Swept away.

"Is this the first time you've been here? The first time since it happened?"

250.

Novalee nodded as Americus slipped in beside her, reached up and took her hand.

"I'm very sorry," he said. "I know you were close. She talked about you a lot."

"You and Sister were . . ."

"Both alcoholics. That's where I met her, at AA. Four years ago, about the time she found you. She was my sponsor."

"Oh, you're the one. The one who called . . ."

"In the middle of the night? Yes. I'm the one. The one she picked up at the Hi-Ho Club or the Red Dog Saloon . . . Bone's Place." Ray tossed his cigarette away and lit another one. "Wherever I ended up, she came after me."

"Mommy?" Americus pulled at Novalee's hand.

"She never gave up on me," Ray said. "After I lost my practice, about to be disbarred . . . well, she's the one who helped me turn it around."

Novalee looked across the yard. "I just can't believe it's all gone."

Americus unwrapped her hand from her mother's, then scooted away.

"Yeah," Ray said. "This must be quite a shock, but it might have been worse if you'd seen it before I had everything hauled off."

"You did that?"

"I'm executor of the estate, so . . ."

"Estate?"

"Sister had a will." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. "It's all in here."

"What?"

"Her will, the deed, some checks . . . receipts. You'll need to sign some papers, then-"

"Why?"

251.

"Because she left it all to you, Miss Nation. The land. And the trailer. Insured, but just for the minimum. Eight thousand. And eight thousand on the contents. State Farm. The check's in here." Ray handed the envelope to Novalee. "And a check from National Republic, a life insurance policy for ten thousand, and you're the beneficiary."

"Mommy," Americus called from across the yard.

"Anyway," Ray said, "it's all yours."

Novalee took the envelope, her movements stiff and mechanical.

"Have you made any plans?"

bedrooms with old quilts and four-poster beds "Will you be staying in this part of the country?"

kitchens with copper pots and blue china "Mommy!"

walls covered with family pictures in gold frames "Mommy, look!"

Novalee turned and saw Americus skipping around the buckeye tree-still tall, still straight, still alive.

it's lucky . . . helps you find your way home if you get lost "Or are you going back to Tennessee?"

home is where your history begins 252.

"What?"

"I was just wondering if you'd be going back to Tennessee?"

"No. I'll be staying here. Staying home."

Chapter Twenty-Six.

T HE REDHEAD at the bar lit another cigarette and recrossed her legs, letting the fringed miniskirt slide farther up her thighs to reveal the crotch of her lace panties. She wanted to make sure the singer who called himself Billy Shadow kept her in his sights. She had nothing to worry about. HE REDHEAD at the bar lit another cigarette and recrossed her legs, letting the fringed miniskirt slide farther up her thighs to reveal the crotch of her lace panties. She wanted to make sure the singer who called himself Billy Shadow kept her in his sights. She had nothing to worry about.

w.i.l.l.y Jack had her spotted, her and all the rest of them-the little brunette in tight jeans and halter top that just covered her nipples . .

. the leggy Hispanic in red boots and denim shorts that didn't quite cover the cheeks of her a.s.s . . . a doe-eyed girl who sucked her thumb every time he looked at her. w.i.l.l.y Jack hadn't missed a one.

But tonight, he wasn't looking for women. He was watching for Johnny Desoto, one of the biggest agents in the business, who was coming to hear him sing.

254.

"So what can I do for you, Billy?"

"Well, Shorty Wayne said I ought to get in touch with you, you, Johnny. Said you like my song." Johnny. Said you like my song."

"The Heartbeat, right?"

"The Beat of a Heart."

"Nice tune."

"Shorty said if I was in Dallas, I should give you a call."

"You do that."

"Well, that's why I'm callin'."

"You're here in Dallas? Now?"

"Yeah. I opened at Cowpokes last week."

"How long you gonna be around?"

"I'll be here till the tenth."

"I see."

"So I thought . . ."

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"You still with Ruth Meyers?"

"Yeah, but I'm thinkin' about makin' some changes, Johnny. Johnny.

If you know what I mean."

As w.i.l.l.y Jack pumped his fist in the air to let the drummer know he was half a beat behind, he let his voice slide into the chorus of "Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys," the first song of the set by Billy Shadow and Night River.

Cowpokes had gone over the occupancy limit of four hundred, even before Night River took the stage. An hour later, customers were still spilling through the door, eager to sh.e.l.l out the ten-dollar cover so they could pay five bucks a bottle for Lone Star longnecks.

On the trendy end of Greenville Avenue in Dallas, Cowpokes catered Where the Heart Is 255.

to the young, monied crowd-fresh-faced professionals in Stetsons shading their eyes from disco strobes, fraternity boys from SMU wearing six-hundred-dollar Lucchesi boots that would never cover rougher terrain than inlaid parquet, and thin golden women, their looks hard won by exercise coaches and tanning beds.

But Cowpokes was a long way from the places w.i.l.l.y Jack had started in, the cut-and-shoot clubs where Ruth Meyers had booked him in the beginning, mean places in tough towns-the Back Stabber Bar in Trinidad, Colorado . . . the Forked Tongue in Winslow, Arizona . . . c.o.o.na.s.ses and Crackers in Biloxi, Mississippi.

Ruth Meyers had wanted to see if w.i.l.l.y Jack had staying power, see if he could survive the glamorous world of entertainment. He could-but sometimes not by much.

In Chillicothe, Missouri, a place called the Hole in the Wall, a man in a wheelchair tried to kill him with a claw hatchet because the band couldn't play "The Sound of Music." In Decatur, Alabama, in Baby's Bar and Grill, a woman held an ice pick to her husband's ear and demanded that w.i.l.l.y Jack sing "Your Cheatin' Heart."

In Hot Springs, Arkansas, three brothers holding a wake for their father brought his body to the Rubber Rooster where they made Night River play "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" from midnight till four the next morning.

And in Valdosta, Georgia, w.i.l.l.y Jack played in a bar called the Fang where he shared the stage with half a dozen cages of snakes. At feeding time, the bartender sold live mice for three bucks each and whenever a customer dropped a mouse into one of the cages, the band provided a drum roll and a chorus of "There Goes My Everything."

w.i.l.l.y Jack scanned the Cowpokes crowd again, wondering why Johnny Desoto hadn't shown up. Even with the place packed, he'd 256 be easy to spot because he wore an eye patch, which, according to rumor, covered the ruins of an eye gouged out by a bull when Desoto had been on the rodeo circuit thirty years earlier.

"Can we have another round over here?" w.i.l.l.y Jack called to the bartender. to the bartender.

"No," Johnny Desoto said. "It's a little early in the day for me. Besides, I have a lunch meeting in an hour." me. Besides, I have a lunch meeting in an hour."

"Then I'll get right to the point." w.i.l.l.y Jack leaned closer to the table, his tone confidential. "I think Ruth Meyers has to the table, his tone confidential. "I think Ruth Meyers has went about as far with me as she can." went about as far with me as she can."

"Is that right?"

"Man, she ain't got the clout."