The Sweet Spot Page 19

  Yeah, right. You sound like a Disney movie.

  Disaster had hit them like a Kansas cyclone, and instead of her and Jimmy hunkering down together to weather the storm, it had torn them apart. She’d poked her head in a Valium bottle, and Jimmy’d lit out for another woman’s bed. Worse yet, a girl’s bed. Frozen frame pictures of Jimmy knocking boots with the little blonde shot through Char’s brain like machine gunfire.

  Hearing a rapid tapping, she looked down to see her foot bouncing on the bleacher. She made it stop. Besides, I like being my own woman, working outdoors, not having to ask anyone for anything. Being my own boss. The last thing she needed was one more person to take care of.

  JB stepped up to a desk on the opposite side of the arena, behind a sound board. She should have known they’d ask him to announce today’s event. He picked up the mike.

  “Test. One, two. Test. Junior, can you hear me?” A fat arm waved from the rapidly filling yard behind the chutes. Bulls milled in the holding pens, and saddled horses stood tied to the corral fence. Jimmy’s deep, singing voice flowed from the speakers as he fiddled with knobs.

  “ ‘I do. The day I said it to you. Turns out I meant it much more than I knew.’ ”

  Odd choice of songs. She’d never heard this one before. The soft ballad continued, the words weaving a story of happy romance.

  “ ‘Then, one day, the sun went away. Left in the dark, I lost my way.’ ” Char jolted upright. Son went away? Jimmy had written songs before. Was this more than a sound check? She squinted, trying to read his downcast expression. He frowned, messing with the electronics as he sang stanzas of darkness. Her foot started bouncing again. It didn’t have to mean anything. People got the strangest tunes stuck in their heads. Char relaxed her grip on the riser on either side of her thighs.

  Suddenly Jimmy looked up, his eyes locking on hers so quick that she knew he’d been aware of her the whole time. He continued singing as her heart slammed against her ribs; his unrelenting gaze left no doubt that his song choice was no accident. His low-set voice slowed, coming gentle from the speakers overhead, to settle on her.

  “ ‘So when you look up with your eyes all blue and ask me, do I still love you? I do.’ ”

  Char sat frozen, snared. The sounds of the arena faded until nothing existed but the tractor beam of emotion in his eyes: disconsolate, heartsick, remorseful, and hopeful all at the same time. Her heart threw short, staccato beats as JB Denny bared his soul to her with a look.

  She jerked, adrenaline pumping to her nerve endings. Her foot tapped out a frantic Morse code. SOS! She closed her eyes to break the spell. It was a lot harder to do than it should have been.

  When the bench shivered beneath her, she opened her eyes. Jimmy still stood behind the sound board, speaking with the coach of the rodeo team.

  “You’re probably not aware that you’re eyeing your ex like he’s a box of chocolates, and you’ve been on a diet a loooong time.” Bella’s boots rattled the metal as she climbed the bleachers to plunk down next to Char.

  Char sat up straight and glanced around, surprised to see the stands filling around her. “Bell. What are you doing here?” She smoothed the hair back from her face, brushing her hand over her cheek in a feeble attempt to cool the heat.

  Bella rested one blue stiletto-heeled cowgirl boot on the step in front of her. Her bracelets winked in the light, tinkling as she pointed to the chutes. “I’ve come to see Travis buck, of course. After listening to him talk about nothing but bull riding for the past three months at work, I had to see for myself what this was all about.”

  “You? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “Well, he is a Dumpster monkey, but he’s our monkey, that’s the thing.”

  Rosa stomped up the stands toward them, lips pursed. “Do you know Ben ordered me to leave?” She huffed. “I only wanted to see…”

  “Give it up, Rosa.” Char patted the seat beside her. “You don’t know the secret handshake.”

  “Not to mention your complete lack of testosterone.” Bella eyed the cowboys like an art critic at a gallery opening. “They’re an aggravating species. But they sure are cute, aren’t they?”

  The three women scoped out the men in the arena.

  “Yeah,” Char and Rosa said together.

  An hour later, Bella asked, “When’s the bull riding? My butt bones hurt.” She shifted on the bleacher. “Pole bending, steer wrestling, goat tying. Who thought up this stuff? And the ‘Battlin’ Billies’? Who names their high school team after goats? You people need to do something about your animal fixation.”

  Char patted her friend’s arm. “Calm down, city girl. Bull riding is up next. See? They’re loading the chutes now.”

  Char had to raise her voice to be heard over the babble of the crowd. The stands were filled to capacity with parents, siblings and students, the overflow lining the edge of the arena. Next to the football program, rodeo was the most popular sport at Fredericksburg High.

  Rosa fanned herself with a program. “I hope that someone back there is seeing that Ben stays hydrated. I’m about to melt here, I can’t imagine how hot it is in the sun.”

  Jimmy’s voice was deep and smooth as he announced the winners of the barrel racing event. Char had always had Benje to care for, so she’d never traveled to hear him call an event. She had to admit, he was good, interspersing facts and humor into lulls in the action. He orchestrated the event with an ease that she knew was far from easy.

  “Ya’ll out buying a hot dog at the student council stand may want to hold the chili and hustle back here. The bull riding is about to commence. For those who don’t know, I’ll go over the rules. The rider is strapped to the one-ton animal by a braided rope covered in rosin. The cowbell at the bottom is there as a weight, so the rope falls off the bull at the end of the ride. To receive a score, the cowboy has to stay aboard for eight seconds, and his free arm cannot touch the bull. Piece of cake, right?” JB glanced to the chutes to gauge the rider’s readiness.

  “The cowboy makes up half the score, the bull the other half, for a total possible of one hundred. Those weird-lookin’ dudes in the arena used to be called rodeo clowns, but nowadays we call ’em bullfighters. They’re there to protect the rider after the get-off by distracting the bull.” JB shuffled papers. “First up is Bubba Albright, from the Kerrville team, out of chute number one. Come on, people, this isn’t easy. Let’s cheer that cowboy on!”

  The crowd roared as the brindled bull exploded from the chute. Char knew these bulls were amateurs compared to those at professional events, but the animal’s horns were just as wicked. She held her breath.

  The helmeted cowboy held one arm in the air, the other gripped the rope snugged up against his crotch as he clamped down on the bull’s sides with his spurs. Dirt and saliva flew as the bull started spinning. The centrifugal force pulled the rider off his rope, a bit more with every spin. Two more jumps and the cowboy was stretched out, hand still in the rope, clinging to the bull’s hips with his thighs. He lost grip with his spurs and, for a moment, was pulled vertically, legs out straight, held to the spinning animal by only the rope locked around his fingers. The buzzer sounded as the teen’s hand popped out of the rope and he was launched, flying ten feet across the arena and landing in the dirt.

  The bullfighters moved in as the cowboy scrabbled then sprinted to climb the fence. The crowd cheered as he pumped a fist in the air.

  “Since his hand was in the rope at the buzzer, he gets a score. Good hustle, cowboy. The judges award Kerrville seventy points.”

  Char reached over to pry Bella’s nails out of her arm. “Well, Bella, what do you think? Does that beat gang wars or whatever passes for sport in New York?”

  “Oh. My. God.” Bella’s large eyes got larger. “You raise them crazy out here. How could a mother watch her son do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m glad I never had to find out. It was hard enough watching Jimmy ride back in the day.”

  Bell
a shifted on the seat. “I think I wet my pants.”

  Rosa jostled her arm. “Travis is up next.” She pointed to the chute where the lanky teen was lowering himself onto the back of a huge black bull.

  The face Char was able to glimpse through the helmet’s facemask looked as grave and hard as a cigar store Indian’s.

  The coach pulled the rope taut, and the bull reared, pawing at the top of the chute, trying to climb out. Char hissed as Bella’s nails bit into her upper arm again. The coach grabbed Travis around the chest and hauled him to safety. The bull, unable to escape, settled back in the chute. “Dang, Bella. Next time, file those talons, or you’re sitting next to someone else.” Char rubbed her misused bicep.

  Bella sat on her hands. “Sorry.”

  The coach spoke to a clearly rattled Travis, and he climbed into the chute once more. The bull thrashed in the close confines. Someone grabbed the back of Travis’s vest to keep him from hurtling headfirst onto the metal bars at the front of the gate. His head disappeared below the top of the chute.

  “What’s going on?” Rosa asked.

  Char shot her a quick look. “The bull laid down in the chute. Some of them do that, to avoid being ridden. Wouldn’t you just know that Travis would get a fractious one.”

  “Fractious? The damned thing is trying to kill him!” Bella’s shrill voice cut through the noise of the crowd.

  Char patted her back. “Welcome to bull riding, New York. It’s not for the faint of heart—the riders, or the women who care about them.” They watched the coach lean over the top of the chute to pull the rope. When it was tight, he handed it to Travis, to wrap around his hand.

  “Actually, this isn’t a bad thing. Jimmy always liked bulls that laid down. He said that at least they couldn’t tear him up in the chute from that position.”

  Bella groaned. “This is insane. What’s wrong with a tame game of rugby or something? You have a shot if it’s only a human trying to kill you.”

  Travis must have nodded his head, because the spotter outside the chute swung the gate wide and jumped to the safety of the fence. The bull, seeing an escape route, shot to his feet and bucked his way into the arena.

  Time seemed to slow as Char held her breath, fists clenched on her thighs. As the bull lunged forward, and Travis was left behind, off his rope. The bull turned in, and Travis was thrown off center, to the inside of the spin. Just as Char thought he was falling off, he shifted his hips in a brilliant move. Using the strength in the muscles of his forearm, along with his innate sense of balance, he pulled himself back to the center of the bull. He stayed perfectly balanced for the next three jumps. The crowd roared, coming to its feet around her. Char jumped up, standing on the riser in front so she could see through the bodies. Instead of continuing the spin, the bull lunged forward. Travis lost grip with his spurs, his feet came up, and his hand popped out of the rope. The cowboy flew off, to slam into the arena fence. He lay in a heap as one of the bullfighters stepped in front of him to protect him from the bull.

  Char’s air-starved lungs hitched a breath through the hand she’d clamped over her mouth.

  The bullfighter needn’t have bothered. Once the animal rid himself of the irritation, it stopped bucking and ran out of the open exit gate. Ben and the coach jumped from the fence to kneel beside Travis, where he writhed in the dirt. The team doctor ran in from the exit gate.

  The crowd went silent, and JB’s calm voice came from the speakers. “Travis Beauchane is down. This usually looks worse than it is, folks. Let’s let the doctor do his thing.”

  The three men huddled around the downed cowboy and pulled off his helmet. Char felt Bella take her frozen hand on one side and Rosa the other. She drew a shaky breath and willed Travis to be okay. Anything else was unthinkable.

  After a minute, Ben stood and waved to her side of the bleachers. The coach and the doctor hauled Travis to his feet.

  “Looks like he just got the wind knocked out of him, folks.” Relief flowed in JB’s voice. “I say ‘just,’ but if you’ve ever had that happen, you know it feels like you’re dying. Let’s give the kid a hand.”

  The crowd cheered as Travis accepted his bull rope from one of the bullfighters and his hat from Ben. He settled it on his head, then tipped it to the crowd.

  Char watched Jimmy watch Travis limp to the gate.

  “No score, but a good effort from the newest member of the Fredericksburg team.”

  The sun shot golden streaks from the horizon, reluctant to give ground to the dusk. The stands emptied quickly as the crowd headed for the parking lot.

  “I guess I see the attraction of the sport.” Bella’s boots rang on the metal bleachers as she stepped down. Char and Rosa followed. “But I’m not sure I can watch when I know one of the contestants. It’s one thing to see a train wreck on the evening news, but it’s a whole other thing when you know someone who took the train. You know what I mean?”

  “Sure I do.” Char hopped to the dirt. “But when someone you love loves this”—she swept her arm over the arena—“you don’t have any choice but to show up, grit your teeth, and smile.”

  Rosa led the way to where the men gathered behind the chutes. “Guess you spend a lot of money on a good health policy. And a lot of hours on your knees, praying.”

  Char rolled her eyes. “Honey, I had calluses on my knees from praying back then. It was almost a relief when Jimmy tore a tendon from the bone of his riding arm and had to quit.”

  Bella winced. “And here I thought New York was tough. Women there only join gangs and shoot each other. Much cleaner.”

  Dozens of men and a few girl contestants swarmed the area behind the chutes: loading horses, gathering equipment, and joking.

  Char spied her men and walked to them. “I’m so proud of you, Travis!”

  The teen tipped his unconventional hat and drawled, “Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  Char squinted. He looked subtly different, as if he’d grown into his skin a bit.

  The edge of JB’s mouth quirked. “Hang around, kid, you may make a cowboy yet.”

  Ben clapped the boy on the back hard enough that he took a step forward. “Anyone who’s got the guts to straddle a bull is a man, JB.”

  “You’re right about that, Ben.” He glanced at the women, but his gaze settled on Char. “Would you ladies care to join us for a celebratory dinner?”

  Rosa said, “Thanks, JB, but I have to be getting home. I ran into my neighbor and I’m catching a ride with her. Good job, Travis.” She stepped up and hugged Ben. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and walked toward the parking lot.

  Bella pulled Travis into a one-armed hug. “I’ve gotta work; it’s my turn to close. You go have fun. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, after school.” She turned and sashayed in the direction of the feed store.

  Travis put his hands in his back pockets and looked at his feet. “The team is meeting at Mr. Gatti’s for pizza. Um. I thought I should go…”

  Jimmy grinned. “Of course you should. You go on, and don’t let any of them razz you about that hat.”

  Travis looked up with a smug grin. “Are you kidding? I’m legendary. They all want to know where they can get one.” He shot JB a saucy grin, turned, and walked away.

  “Excuse me a second.” JB trotted after Travis.

  Char watched him touch Travis’s shoulder and slip him some money. The familiar hollow pain in her chest squeezed her heart, making it hard to breathe.

  He should be doing that with Benje.

  Travis looked up at Jimmy, relief in his eyes, his mouth forming the words Thank you. How could she begrudge a boy who so obviously needed a father figure, because her son no longer did?

  I love you, Benje.

  JB jogged back and stood before her. He didn’t have to say anything; his frank assessing gaze settled on her as he awaited her choice.

  She rooted in her purse for her keys. “Daddy and I have to get home.” Her fumbling fingers dropped the keys in the
dirt.

  Taking his time, Jimmy bent, picked them up, and handed them to her. “You sure? I’m talking the Golden Corral. And I’m buying.”

  Char closed her purse, lifted the strap over her shoulder, and touched her dad’s back to urge him toward the car. “We have to get home and get Daddy’s pills.” She ignored the longing in her chest, urging her to say yes. “But thanks, Jimmy.”

  She walked away, imagining the alarming normality she’d feel sitting down with Jimmy in a booth at the Golden Corral.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Joy and sorrow are inseparable… together they come and when one sits alone with you, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

  —Kahlil Gibran

  The parking lot of the Holy Shepherd Church was packed with cars but empty of people. Char stepped from the car and glanced around, relishing the smell of fall in the air. Not yet a nip, but the easing of the heavy heat at dawn was a welcome precursor to it.

  Sparkly shivers raced through her body as the soaring organ notes of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” drifted to her on the light breeze. She brushed a nonexistent speck from her sky-blue linen suit. By dropping her Dad at Junior’s and arriving after the service had begun, she’d avoided having to speak with anyone, but she hadn’t thought through her strategy past this point. She’d have to march into the packed church. She imagined every head swiveling, every eye trained on her, the prodigal daughter. The shivers settled into her stomach and started a party.

  Get a grip. That’s fear talking, not reality. She glared at the innocent sky. “Okay, God, I’m here. You happy?”

  Before she could change her mind, she tossed her purse strap over her shoulder, chirped the auto lock, and stalked to the church she’d attended her entire life. Resolve ebbed a bit with every step up to the imposing wooden doors.

  Hand on the iron handle, she hesitated again, her brain seesawing between opposing impressions. The organ music charged the air, so physically real that the metal beneath her fingers vibrated with it, bringing a familiar peace.