Chapter Three
Chapter Three
“W ell, Bubba, unless someone comes around saying that you belong to them, I guess it’s me and you, just like it was over there in the sand pit,” Carson said as he walked back to his vehicle, got in, and drove up the road to Victor and Dorena’s cabin. The kitten curled up in his lap and purred until he parked the Jeep; then he climbed from Carson’s lap to his shoulder and perched there.
“You aren’t afraid of riding, so you’ll make a good partner.”
“Who are you talking to?” Victor asked from the front porch.
Carson held up the kitten. “Meet Bubba, my new partner.”
Victor pushed up out of the rocking chair. “Looks like a good partner to me.”
“Since the rental cabins have a no-pet rule, he could belong to one of the permanent residents. I should probably put a picture of him up in the ranger station,” Carson said.
Victor chuckled and reached for the kitten. “He’s tame, so that means he’s been with people and not one of the feral cats that we see occasionally. Mamie Duvall is the only permanent resident that has a cat, and he’s got to be fifteen years old. I would imagine this little fellow got thrown out. Folks who treat animals like that should be jailed.” He petted the little guy for a couple of minutes and then handed him back. “I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that Bubba is yours now, unless you can pawn him off on Jenna. A pet might do her good.”
“She offered, but one of her houseguests is allergic, and in a week’s time, I figure I’ll be too attached to him to give him away.” Carson held the kitten close to his chest. “He’ll be company when you and Aunt Dorena are gone.”
“Yep,” Victor said with a smile. “I reckon Jenna could be better company, but Bubba will do until you figure that out on your own. I don’t meddle in other folks’ lives.”
“Yeah, right,” Carson chuckled.
* * *
The time that Jenna and her friends had together every year was flexible, but if it wasn’t raining, the first evening after dark was the hot dog roast at the firepit. All the fixings, including condiments, chili, and sauerkraut, had been laid out on one end of the picnic table, ready to build whatever anyone wanted. Chips and two kinds of dip, plus the stuff for s’mores, were on the other end. Wood was ready to light in the fireplace, and the weather was cooperating.
A few dark clouds danced back and forth across the western sky as the sun dropped behind the horizon, but they didn’t look threatening and seemed to be moving to the west.
“I’m going to miss all this, but . . .” Amber said.
“But what?” Jenna asked.
“This door closes for a while, and the one that opens is so wonderful that I can’t wait to see the life behind it. I guess this is what you call bittersweet.”
“No wonder you like to paint here. The light is fantastic,” Kelly said.
“It’s always been an escape, and it gives me something to occupy my mind,” Jenna said. “At the end of a day in front of a computer, I need to be outside and create something beautiful—even if the beauty is only in the eyes of the beholder. Mama told me that when I would whine about being disappointed in something I finished.”
“She was and still is right,” Kelly said. “Just like my mama was when she told me that I was enabling my sister. She used to tell both of us that when you find yourself in a hole, you quit digging.”
Jenna thought of the hole she had dug for herself right there at the lake. “The rut I’ve carved out for myself right here is pretty comfortable.”
“You’ve adopted that old I don’t need anyone attitude, and maybe that’s good, but honey, we all need friends, and I don’t just mean two that show up for a week once a year. I couldn’t have made it through the grief, the regrets, or the guilt without y’all, and the group therapy,” Kelly said.
Amber raised her beer. “Amen to that.”
“I’ve got y’all,” Jenna argued, “and I’ve had Victor and Dorena, and I know most of the permanent residents on this side of the lake.”
“In what capacity?” Amber asked. “Do you confide in them?”
“Of course not.” Jenna shook her head. “I only tell y’all my secrets.”
“Then they are acquaintances, not real friends,” Kelly said. “Have you scattered your mama’s ashes yet?”
“I haven’t been able to do that. It seems so final,” Jenna answered.
“You’ll know when it’s the right time, but you need to set a date and do it. Then you can begin to have some closure,” Amber said.
“Are you speaking from experience?” Jenna asked.
“Yes, I am. When I finally got a little measure of closure about my baby girl, it freed me to be able to fall in love with Ethan and to be a real mama to Lisa and Ian.”
Jenna glanced over at Kelly. “Think you will ever fall in love?”
“I did twice, and neither time worked out,” Kelly answered. “So, now I’m happy with my job and the fact that I help people.”
Jenna made a mental note to find out what hospital her friend would be working at, and to make yearly donations to that place. For the past ten years, she had split the profit from each painting that she sold between three research facilities: drug and alcohol rehabilitation, brain aneurysm research, and stillborn and miscarriage treatment. She had revamped the trust fund left to her by her folks and made women’s shelters for abused women.
Amber nudged Jenna on the arm. “Your brain is somewhere between here and the moon.”
“Earth to Jenna,” Kelly teased. “You are supposed to share your memories with us this week, good or bad.”
“Bryce never hit me, or even threatened to, but I suffered from mental abuse,” she blurted out.
“I can sympathize with that,” Amber said. “Frankie was one of those mean men who was verbally abusive when he was sober and then physically when he was drunk. I’ve never told anyone that he beat me the week before I had the baby,” Amber whispered. “I thought it was my fault. He said my fried chicken wasn’t like what his mama made, and I told him to go back to Texarkana and eat his mama’s food.”
“You never told us that or mentioned it in group sessions,” Kelly said.
“I was too ashamed. If I hadn’t upset him, then he wouldn’t have hit me, and Gloria wouldn’t have died, so I blamed myself. I couldn’t admit that to anyone until I fell in love with Ethan and we talked about everything. Now, I’m telling y’all, because he helped me see that it wasn’t my fault,” Amber said.
“In my opinion, mental and physical abuse go hand in hand,” Kelly said. “I’m glad you are realizing that no man has the right to hit a woman, or vice versa. When my sister got drunk or high, she was meaner than a rattlesnake. I felt sorry for whatever boyfriend she had at the time. If she didn’t get her way, she threw things. Big things like chairs and lamps. I have no idea what kind of mother she would have been, but it’s probably good that she never had children.”
“Do you regret not having kids?” Jenna asked.
Kelly shook her head. “Not one bit. My mama divorced my father because of his drinking and temper. Then when we were teenagers, I saw my sister fall into the same addiction, and she always had my dad’s temper. I was always afraid I might pass that kind of thing down if I had kids.”
All three women turned to the window when they heard a familiar voice calling to them from outside.
“Hey, how are things at the Stewart cabin this evening?” Victor asked, as he and Carson made their way across the yard.
“We’re good,” Jenna answered. “How’s everything around the lake?”
“Just finer than frog hair split three ways,” Victor answered, and then chuckled.
“We’re just about to roast hot dogs and make s’mores,” Kelly said. “Y’all want to join us? Jenna has enough to feed an army back there on the table.”
“If you don’t help us out, she’ll make us eat them for breakfast,” Amber added.
“Can’t waste good food!” Jenna was glad that the mood had lightened around the firepit.
“We’ve had supper,” Carson said.
“But that was more than an hour ago, and we’re on our way home to call it a day,” Victor said. “I’d love a couple of kraut dogs for a night snack, and I never turn down s’mores.”
Jenna got up and headed for the table, with Victor right behind her. “It’s a roast-your-own hot dogs and marshmallows and all-you-can-eat buffet. Skewers are right here, and the lantern throws off enough light so you can see how to build your own.”
Carson hung back, but Victor was the first one to stick two hot dogs on a long metal stick and carry them over to the firepit. “There’s this little hot dog wagon that will be coming around the lake area pretty soon, and the folks serve up kraut dogs and chili dogs so good they’d make you kiss the devil’s pitchfork.”
“Now that’s a saying I’ve never heard before,” Jenna said, and laughed out loud. “Just how good is that, Victor?”
“You’ll just have to order one when they park their food truck up by the ranger station and figure it out for yourself,” he told her. “When these get roasted to a nice brown color, I’m going to load them up with mustard, onions, and kraut. Dorena, bless her heart, won’t give me a good night kiss, but missin’ one will be worth it. Carson, you better take advantage of this. Not many of the residents offer to feed us when we stop for a visit.”
“Are you sure we aren’t intruding?” Carson whispered for Jenna’s ears only.
“Not one bit. We’re glad to have you sit and visit a little while. Our conversation was getting dark, and needed some light,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
“Then we are glad to help out however we can,” Carson said. “Ladies first.”
“Kelly and Amber are already . . .” she started.
“You are the lady I’m talking about,” Carson said.
Could he be flirting, or was his military training just showing up in full force? She didn’t have an answer, but it did feel good to have someone call her a lady. Even when Bryce was first dating her, he had never been very romantic. She scolded herself for even comparing her ex with Carson. The devil himself would look good if he was standing beside Bryce.
She smiled when she thought about what Victor had said about the hot dog vendor and wondered if those words had brought on the idea of Bryce and the devil.
“How’s Bubba doing?” she asked, as they both prepared their hot dogs for roasting.
“Adapting well to the travel trailer,” Carson answered. “I drove up to the store and got what he needed in the way of a litter box and some kitten food.”
“The offer still goes to take him if . . .”
Carson shook his head. “I’m already attached to the little guy, and once Uncle Victor and Aunt Dorena are gone, he’ll be company for me. I’ve never had a pet of any kind before, so I’m liking the idea.”
The picture of him—a big military man—holding that tiny little kitten, had stayed with her all afternoon. It showed that he had a good heart and a gentle nature, and that spoke volumes.
They had just stuck their hot dogs out over the blaze when Victor, Kelly, and Amber finished cooking theirs. They met them coming back to slip them off onto buns and load them up. Amber raised an eyebrow and shot a smile over her way. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she meant by either or both.
Yes, Carson was sexy. Yes, he seemed to be a good man. But that did not mean he was available for anything other than friendship.
“Have you ever been married?” she blurted out, then blushed, then stammered, “I’m sorry. That’s personal.”
“I don’t mind answering,” Carson replied. “I was engaged once. It didn’t work out, and we parted ways on good terms. I’m not in a relationship, either. Why do you ask? Kelly seems to be a little old for me. Amber is a little young. Should I steer clear of this place until they are gone?”
“No, you do not need to stay away,” Jenna answered. “Kelly is going to Africa to be head nurse at a new hospital. Amber is getting married and going to Germany. That makes me sad that this will be our last memory cabin week together.”
“Life is full of changes. I’ve learned that we just have to roll with the punches,” Carson said.
Victor sat down in one of the lawn chairs and balanced his plate on his knees. “Did I hear something about Africa? I’ve always wanted to go on a safari, but Dorena says that she’s not going to be a lion’s breakfast.”
“I’m going to work in a hospital over there,” Kelly said, “and I’m very excited about the job.”
Victor bit into his hot dog and made appreciative noises. “This is as good as that wagon serves up. You ladies should forget whatever jobs you’ve been doing and put up a café.”
“Not me,” Amber protested. “I might be cooking, but it will be for my family in Germany.”
Jenna was thinking about what Carson had said about life being full of changes, when she looked up and realized that everyone was staring at her. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”
“I was saying that y’all need to put in a café or maybe buy a food wagon. You could make a mint during the summer months,” Victor said.
“Thank you for the compliment. Roasting them over an open fire is what gives them all that flavor. It’s nothing I do.”
“You were spacing out again, Jenna,” Kelly fussed at her. “Your hot dogs are about to burn, and you hate them when they turn black.”
“She’s a hermit,” Amber said. “She lives inside her head with her paintings and the banking business that she does from home on the computer.”
“That’s right,” Jenna agreed, and pulled her skewer out of the fire.
Her computer business involved working with the various art gallery CEOs that she hired to operate her Texas art galleries. No one, not even Amber or Kelly, knew anything about her financial situation. Things like that didn’t come up in group therapy, and she was happy to just let her friends think that she had inherited the cabin and worked from home.
Bryce had thought she worked in acquisitions for a gallery in Lufkin when he signed the prenup stating he would get fifty thousand dollars if he divorced her. When she cried the day he had told her he didn’t want to be married to her anymore, he had laughed and said she had a right to cry, because she would have to go to the bank and borrow the money to fulfill her prenup duties.
“Then I guess since this is probably the last night I’ll ever get to have a hot dog right here, I had better have another one,” Victor declared. “Seems to me that working from home wouldn’t make any more than selling hot dogs.”
“I like my job. It gives me purpose and something to do,” Jenna answered. “Let’s talk about that safari you want to go on, Victor.”
Anything to shift the conversation away from me, she thought.
When her father died, her mother had sold most of their assets, but oil royalties and interest on the other money built up yearly. She didn’t care so much about the money, but she did care that she was able to sponsor several scholarships—like Miz Ramona had done for her—with some of it.
“Carson, have you ever wanted to go on a safari?” Kelly asked.
“No, ma’am,” Carson answered without hesitation. “I don’t know what Africa is like. I wasn’t ever there, but I’ve spent time in the sand, and I’ll take this nice green grass and that lake out there any day of the week over that heat. Sand did not stay outside where it belonged. It got into everything, and you haven’t lived until you get a dose of sand fleas.”
Jenna listened to the conversation as it went from one subject to the next, and wondered how Carson would feel if he knew that her job was more than a simple banking job from home.
Victor finished off his last bite and was on his way to the table when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket and listened for a minute, then turned around. “Dorena said that the show we watch together on Monday night is coming on in ten minutes. I’ll have to get on back to the house. You kids have fun.” He waved and disappeared into the darkness.
“I should be going, too.” Carson started to get to his feet.
“Nonsense,” Kelly said. “You haven’t even had a s’more yet, and the night is young.”
“Bubba will wait up for you,” Amber teased.
He glanced over at Jenna.
“You are welcome to be our newest member to our group therapy session,” she said in the best authoritative voice she could muster, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Would you like to share with us this evening?”
He settled back in his chair. “Hello, everyone. I am Carson Makay, recently retired after twenty years in the military, and the new park ranger here at Lake Livingston.”
“Hello, Carson,” all three women chimed in together.
“I’m glad to be here at this session, but I don’t have much to share, other than I still have not found closure for losing my best friend, Bubba Benoit, last year. Thank you all for inviting me to your session,” Carson said. “And y’all serve better food than the other groups I went to before my enlistment was over. The doughnuts were a little stale there, and the coffee tasted like motor oil mixed with mud.”
Kelly giggled and then laughed out loud. “We are glad to have you, and we will never serve bad coffee or unsweetened tea. That’s just bad southern manners.”
Amber laid the back of her hand over her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “My mama would disown me for such a thing.”
“Tell us more about Bubba,” Jenna said. “I bet you’ve got a good memory there, right?”
“Lots of them,” Carson said with a bit of a smile. “His given name was Benjamin Benoit. We rode the bus together with a bunch of other recruits up to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. It was one of those scalding hot days in the middle of July when we deboarded. When we all complained about the heat, Bubba called us sissies, and said that it was so hot where he came from that the weather there felt like air-conditioning. He was a little short guy with black hair that he pulled back in a ponytail, before they sent us all to the barber. His eyes were every bit as dark as his hair, and from day one, I could tell that we were going to be enemies. When they lined us up, we were side by side. When we marched from one place to the other, we were side by side. He was put on the bottom bunk, and me on the top in the barracks. We had an instant dislike of each other.” He stopped and took a long drink of his tea.
“How did you get to be friends, then?” Jenna asked.
“I’ve never been real coordinated, but Bubba . . . ”—Carson paused—“that boy could have kept time when we were marching, read a book, and scratched his head, all at the same time. And he would deliberately throw my count off so that I’d stumble. I finally had enough of it and went to the drill sergeant, only to find Bubba already there, standing at attention in front of the drill sergeant’s desk. Sarge let me go first, and I told him that I just flat-out didn’t like Bubba, and he was always the cause of me always getting yelled at. Bubba went next and accused me of looking down on him because he was short and had a southern accent.”
“Is that the way you both said it?” Kelly asked.
“No, ma’am, our language was much more colorful. Bubba said that he wouldn’t even carry a sorry son-of-a-bitch like me in his pirogue to a doctor if I was bleeding out, and that’s just a taste of his southern temper. I said he had short man’s syndrome, and I would rather spend basic in hell than have to deal with him.” Carson paused and downed the rest of the tea in his bottle.
“Go on,” Amber said. “I want to know how y’all got to be friends after that.”
“Sarge said that we both needed to learn to be part of a team,” Carson answered, “so for the rest of basic, if there was more than ten feet between us, we would have to go back to week one of our training. And we would do it together, so if one of us broke the rule, then the other one was punished, too. We had to sit at the same table when we ate. I had to stand right outside the bathroom when he showered—or did other things. The first week was pure misery, and we hated each other more than ever.”
“And then?” Kelly asked.
“Then one night I woke up, and he wasn’t in his bunk right below me. I just knew the sorry SOB was about to get me sent back to week one just for spite. I hopped out of bed and went looking for him. I couldn’t call out his name for fear of waking someone and having them tattle on us. I found him curled up a corner of the shower room, his shoulders shaking and crying so hard he couldn’t talk,” Carson said. “He just handed me the letter he was holding. The ink was blurred in spots from his tears. It was a Dear John letter from his fiancée. They were supposed to get married right after he got done with basic, but she had fallen in love with his best friend in the last three weeks.”
“What did you do?” Jenna asked.
“I sat down beside him and cried with him,” Carson answered, “and we were best friends after that. The ten-foot rule became a joke, and we each carried a tape measure in our pockets to be sure we didn’t even push things by one inch. We finished basic and were sent to MP training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, for the next twenty weeks. Then we were assigned to different posts, and it was only in the last deployment that we were together again. I guess I was bad luck, because I lost him then.”
“No, that was the universe giving y’all one last time to be together to relive all those old memories and good times,” Kelly told him. “You’ll find closure for your friend eventually, but don’t ever lay blame on yourself for what someone else did. That’s not your burden to carry.”
“Easier said than done,” Carson said, “but thanks for the encouragement. Anyone else in the mood to share this evening?”
Jenna raised her hand. “Since Carson shared a good memory, I think we should all dig down and find one. Mine comes from the summer I was fifteen. Miz Ramona Andrews lived two cabins down that way from right here”—she pointed to her left—“and she was a retired art teacher. Mama talked her into giving me some basic lessons in oil painting. That’s what set me on the path I’m on now. Miz Ramona said she saw raw talent in my work, and she mentored me that summer and the next two, as well. I had hoped she would teach me more, but she passed away during my senior year of high school. She willed me all of her art books and supplies and left me a full-ride scholarship to the University of Texas in Austin. After undergraduate work, her will stated that I was to spend six months in Paris. After that, I came home to work in a small gallery in Lufkin.”
“So, your happy memory was painting in Paris?” Amber asked.
“I enjoyed my time there, but my happy memory was working with Miz Ramona right here at the lake,” Jenna answered.
“Ramona . . . Mona Gallery in Houston . . . I wonder if there’s a connection?” Kelly frowned. “I haven’t been to many galleries and wouldn’t know trash from treasure, but still . . .”
“If you go there sometime, you will see her picture and name in the lobby. She was the inspiration for that gallery,” Jenna said.
“Okay, my turn.” Amber held up her hand. “Since we’re remembering happy memories from before the bad ones sent us to therapy, mine is my graduation gift from my mama. She raised me as a single mother, and her job was cleaning offices for a big corporation at night. We lived with my grandmother, so she could put me to bed and read a story to me while Mama was gone. So, anyway, Mama saved for years and years to take me on a cruise for my graduation present. Granny had passed away my sophomore year, or she would have gone with us. That explained, now for my happy memory. The first night of the cruise, Mama sat down on the edge of my bed, opened up my favorite children’s book, and read all of The Velveteen Rabbit to me.”
Kelly wiped at the tear rolling down her cheek. “That is beautiful, Amber. Hang on to that and never let it go.”
“Mama gave me the book, and it’s now one of Ian and Lisa’s favorite stories. I’ve read it so often that the pages are worn,” Amber said. “Now, it’s your turn, Kelly. A happy memory.”
“I have one that I can think of,” Kelly said. “My sister and I were not identical twins. She was the pretty one who got all the boys in high school, and I was the one with my nose in a book. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. But when we had our junior prom, she went shopping with me, and we chose the same color dresses. She did my hair and makeup, and since she didn’t have a date, she and I went together. For that one night, I felt as pretty as she was, and we were best friends. When I start to think negative thoughts, I hang onto the feeling that I had for that evening like a bulldog with a bone.”
Jenna nodded. “According to the self-help books, if we keep the good memories alive, the bad ones will eventually fade. Group session is officially over, and now it’s time to make s’mores. We don’t want Carson to have to go back to bad coffee and stale doughnuts.”
Carson pushed up out of his chair, and for a few minutes, Jenna thought he might be leaving. “I’m going to follow in Uncle Victor’s example and have another hot dog before I make a s’more. I haven’t had one roasted over an open fire since Bubba and I built a small one a week or two before he died. We made hot dogs and s’mores and drank contraband whiskey that his brother mailed to him in mouthwash bottles. So, this one is for Bubba.”
“And my s’more is for my sister, who loved anything chocolate,” Kelly said.
“Mine will be for Miz Ramona,” Jenna added.
“And mine is for Mama and all the support she’s given me, even when I didn’t listen to her words of wisdom.” Amber stood up.
Carson held out a hand, and Jenna took it. There was definitely electricity between them. He just hoped that she had felt what he did.
“Thank you,” Carson whispered.
“You are welcome anytime,” she told him. “Group therapy, or even just sitting on the porch and visiting. It’s a busy life here, but also a lonely one.”
“I can see that, and I will take you up on that offer. Maybe we can have another lunch together sometime?”
“I’d like that very much.”