Hard-Headed Texan

“How does Roberto put up with you?”

Rita laughed. “I make it worth his while. Who do you think I do all this suffering for?” She nodded toward her meager lunch.

“You,” Antonia retorted, grinning. “You can’t fool me. I heard Roberto last week worrying about how thin you were getting.”

“Oh, that!” Rita waved away the statement. “All the Delgado women get to be like bowling balls. He thinks it’s normal. But I can tell you he’ll notice it when I put on my negligee from Victoria’s Secret. But wait—you are not going to distract me from the subject of this conversation. Are you interested in Daniel Sutton?”

“I told you, I was curious. It isn’t as if he asked me out or anything.” Antonia wasn’t about to tell even a good friend like Rita what had happened that morning at Sutton’s ranch.

“Ah, but you’d like him to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Antonia sighed. “No. I don’t want to date him or anyone else. It’s too much trouble. I just want to do my work, get settled in Angel Eye….”

“Girl, you’ve been here two months. How much settling in can you do in a town this size?”

“I’m slow.” Antonia crumpled up the wrapper from her burger and tossed it in the trash. “Thanks for the info.” She paused. “But if I start hearing about Daniel Sutton from Lilian and the clerk at the Quik-Mart—”

“Antonia…you are so suspicious.” Rita smiled enigmatically.

“Yeah. Right.” Antonia gave her friend a knowing look and left the room.

Not surprisingly, Antonia’s work spilled over into the evening, and she did not get home until after seven-thirty. She was informed of her tardiness by Mitzi, the black-and-white, tailless street cat that had decided to favor Antonia with her presence last year. The white circle around one eye, in contrast to her mostly black head, gave Mitzi a look of faint surprise, and she carried herself with a feline hauteur that was rather comical, given her bobbed tail, a trait acquired in some accident, Antonia was sure, rather than a genetic anomaly. Mitzi, sublimely unaware of the humorous aspect of her looks, seemed to believe that she was a pampered registered Persian in a wealthy household. She greeted Antonia now with a long litany of complaints, plopping herself down in a seated position in front of the door.

“I hear you, Mitzi,” Antonia responded. “Too regal to bother with rubbing my leg, huh?”

She started toward the kitchen, and Mitzi jumped up, bounding forward to get in front of Antonia. Antonia smiled. She was more of a dog lover than a cat person, but Mitzi had been the perfect pet the last few months. Antonia’s dog of several years, a beautiful golden retriever named Bailey, had died about six months ago, and Antonia had been unable to bring herself to get another dog, although as a veterinarian she was provided with ample opportunities. Her heart was too bruised by Bailey’s death for another loving dog. However, her imperious, distant cat provided the perfect, amusing, faintly aloof companionship she needed.

She dumped out the dry food in Mitzi’s bowl, which, having lain there all day, was not fresh enough for Mitzi’s refined tastes, and refilled it with food straight from the bag.

“You know,” she reminded the cat as she set the bowl down on the floor beside her water, “when I found you, you were rummaging through trash cans for food. How soon we forget.”

Antonia knew that she ought to fix herself a nutritious dinner, given the burger that she had grabbed for lunch, but she was too tired, so she dug out one of her large supply of TV dinners from the fridge and put it in the microwave. She had barely sat down at the table with the dinner and a new paperback she had started the day before when the telephone rang. Antonia sighed and took another bite, contemplating not answering it. However, her instincts were too strong, and after two rings she jumped up and snatched the receiver from its cradle.

“Dr. Campbell.”

“Antonia, dear. It’s Mother.”

Antonia suppressed a sigh. “Hello, Mother.”

No doubt she was an undutiful daughter, she thought, but conversations with her mother invariably left her angry, depressed, guilty, or all three. It was not a prospect she enjoyed facing at the end of a long, tiring day. She wished sometimes for the warm, friendly relationship she had witnessed between other women and their mothers, but she had finally acknowledged that she would never have that with her own mother. They were simply too dissimilar. She had never been the daughter Elizabeth Campbell wanted, and, frankly, Elizabeth Campbell had never been the mother that Antonia would have chosen if she had been given the chance.

“How are you, dear?” her mother went on in her well-modulated, Tidewater-Virginia voice. “Is everything going well out there?”

“Yes, we’re fine out here in the back of beyond,” Antonia replied. Her mother had always acted as if her move to Texas had taken her to a foreign country.

“Now, Antonia, I didn’t say that.”

“Mmm. But that’s what you meant.”

“I will admit that that Angel place seems an excessively long way away from home. You could have had your practice in Virginia.”

“Being a long way from Virginia was the whole point, Mother. It’s better all around if I am nowhere near Alan.”

“But that was a long time ago, Antonia—almost four years. Don’t you think that now you—”

“Mother, we have gone over this before,” Antonia pointed out, shoving down her irritation. “I went to A&M because it was far away from Alan, but I like it here. It suits me. Angel Eye suits me.”

“Well, of course, dear, if you say so,” Elizabeth said doubtfully. “Although I cannot imagine why anyone would name a town such a preposterous name.”

“I like the name. It has character. The whole town has character. I feel…good here, relaxed.”

“But everyone’s foreign—”

“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.”

“Well, I won’t tell him, Antonia,” Elizabeth said in a patient tone that was guaranteed to set Antonia’s teeth on edge. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. What’s going on in your life?”

“I saved a foal’s life today, maybe the mother’s, too.” And I met a very handsome man, and he kissed me, and I felt as tingly as a schoolgirl, and I’m not sure what to do about it—if, indeed, there is anything to do.

“That’s nice, dear. It sounds quite rewarding.”

“It was.” Antonia felt guilty. Her mother was trying, after all. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t understand her daughter. Perhaps she should confide in her mother about Daniel Sutton. Take the initiative to bring about a closer relationship.

At that moment there was a click, and Elizabeth said, with a note of relief in her voice, “Oh, there’s another call. I’m afraid I have to get off, Antonia. Faith Morton is supposed to be calling me with information about the June Gala.”

“Of course. I’m glad you called. Goodbye.”

Antonia hung up the phone and turned back to the table and her supper, no doubt cold by now. She found Mitzi crouched on the table, chowing down on the choicest bits of meat on the tray.

“Mitzi! Oh, well, I’m not hungry anymore anyway.” Antonia’s stomach was alive with nerves now. Talking about her ex-husband had a way of doing that to her.

She thought about the phone call that morning. It had the markings of one of Alan’s calls—jolting her from a sound sleep, the unnerving silence, the hang-up. But then, she reasoned, the same could be said of a dozen other kinds of calls, including a simple wrong number and embarrassed dialer. There wasn’t any reason to believe that it was Alan after all these years.

Still, she went to the kitchen door and checked its bolt, then continued around the house, checking each window and doorknob. She had forgotten to set the security system—one of her first acquisitions whenever she moved into a new place—and she punched in the keycode now, watching as the reassuring red light began to blink.

She went to the window of the living room, which looked out on the front yard. The blinds were closed, as they always were at night, but Antonia lifted the edge and looked out. The moon was full and cast a bright light across the scene, outlining trees and cars. Nothing moved.

For a long time she stood there, gazing into the darkness, thinking about the past, about how she had gotten here. About Alan.

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