of them even before the bruises healed.
As he brushed a bandaged hand over her bare flesh, she remembered how one night he got drunk and bet a feel of her breasts in a poker game. He'd lost, and she'd had to unbutton her blouse and kneel down beside the winner's chair while the stranger fondled her.
Shelby touched her nipple. A tear bubbled over and rolled down Crystal's face, but she didn't move. She knew he saw, not only her breasts, but her whole body as his. He had since the night he'd taken her from the bar to his hotel room and left five hundred-dollar bills on the nightstand. She'd never gone back to work. From the morning she'd picked up the money, she'd been Shelby's. When he married her, she'd thought things would change between them, but it hadn't.
He lowered his hand. When she moved to close her robe, he stopped her with a wave. Crystal straightened, knowing she'd have to wait untill he had his fill of viewing.
It didn't matter that she could sign checks or that Mr. Morris had called her Mrs. Howard. Crystal knew who and what she was. Shelby had just reminded her.
She closed her eyes and waited. She had learned there was no use trying to make him hurry. Once he'd told Jimmy over breakfast that he was tired because he'd had her strip and stand in front of him until after midnight. Claiming he never got tired of staring at perfection, he continued with the details. Jimmy had looked uncomfortable and she'd been too embarrassed to say a word.
A moment later, the feel of his bandaged fingers brushing her tears away startled her. She leaned away and buttoned her top, watching him carefully. He'd never noticed her crying before. He'd never cared.
The legend goes that God ran out of plans for landscaping when he got to Texas, so he thought it easier to just make a people who liked the barrenness.
November 4
Helena Whitworth lived in a big, rambling two-story house in what everyone referred to as 'the historical district,' though no one quite knew why. As a joke, the first day he saw the place, J.D. called her home 'Pigeon Run.' The name stuck, at least in hers and J.D.'s minds. No one else dared to call the Whitworth House, bought and paid for by Helena herself, anything so crazy.
Her favorite room was the master's quarters she'd had enlarged after she married J.D. She had taken in the bedrooms on either side and made small studies for each of them. Between the studies was an open area with floor-toceiling glass where they spent endless hours reading and watching the birds in the backyard.
Every morning, Helena started her day with coffee at her desk. Today was no exception.
'Well, I'll be,' she whispered as she replaced the receiver. 'You'll never guess who that was.'
'Who?' J.D. sat in his favorite chair by the windows. She could only see his profile in shadows, but she knew he was there. She might have attended his funeral, but he was still very much alive to her.
'Crystal Howard.' Helena stood and poured herself another cup from the coffeemaker behind her desk. 'She wants my advice.'
'She needs it,' J.D. answered. 'I always felt sorry for her. Shelby treated her like a hunting dog, paying all kinds of attention when he needed her and ignoring her when he didn't. She must be lost now, poor thing.'
'But she stays with him. No matter what Shelby does, or how bad off he is, she stays. There's glue in that girl's blood.'
'My guess is she doesn't have anywhere else to go.' J.D. shrugged. 'Plus, I think she really loves the bastard. Hell, we all do. There's something about Shelby.'
'Plain ornery,' Helena decided. 'Pure and simple. From his school days, Shelby was the most ornery person I ever met. That kind of trait endears him to men, but drives women crazy.'
J.D. laughed, and Helena thought of how dearly she loved the sound. He had a contagious laugh, always luring others to join him. When he had been in the service he barely let himself smile, but once he retired and married her, she watched him learn to laugh all over again. The boy she had played with and the gray-haired man were the same to her. The changes in their bodies were like changes of clothes. Inside, loving was the only thing that altered through the years. And it grew and grew.
A pounding shook the bedroom door. 'Momma, you up?'
Helena did not answer.
'Momma, I heard you in there. I know you're still home. Don't try to fool me.'
Slowly, Helena crossed to the door and threw the bolt, wondering when her daughter had started talking to her in such a way. 'Morning, Paula.' She tried to smile at her offspring. 'You're here early.'
Paula hurried into the room like an overweight, middleaged, SWAT team commando. 'I thought I heard you talking to someone.'
Helena did not look in the direction of J.D.'s chair. She knew he was no longer there.
'I must have been thinking aloud,' Helena finally offered as explanation, and returned to her desk. 'I was trying to arrange my schedule today.' She frowned at Paula's unisex clothes. Both girls had no regard for the fact that their mother owned a dress store. You would think they would at least try to dress in fashion colors if not styles.
'Oh, Momma, you shouldn't talk to yourself. That's the first sign of a weak brain.'
'I doubt that, honey.' Helena laughed. 'Or half the people in this town would be babbling day and night.'
A sense of humor had been left out of Paula's makeup. She fidgeted like a freshman debater being challenged. 'I didn't mean nothing personal, Momma. I just came by to see if you want to go to lunch with me. I'm worried about you being all alone and I know you're not eating like you should.'
'Sorry, but I made plans for lunch.' Helena noticed relief more than disappointment cross Paula's face. 'Crystal Howard needs my advice about a few things. I promised to meet her at the hospital.'
'You're not going to lunch with her?' Paula circled the desk. 'She's nothing but a lowlife, Momma. Folks say she was old Shelby's mistress even before he was widowed.'
'Be careful,' Helena warned. 'She happens to be the wife of one of J.D.'s friends. If she needs help, I'll do what I can.'
'Yeah, but J.D.'s dead, Momma.' Paula whispered the words as though she could lessen the blow as their impact reached Helena.
'Not in my heart.' Helena lifted her chin. 'He'll be with me always.'
She reached for a silver dollar she kept in the organizer at the corner of her desk. 'When he left for the army, my mother gave him this. Told him it would bring him home. When he came back the last time and we married, he slipped this silver dollar in my hand during the ceremony promising he'd never leave me again. He said it took him through the valley of the shadow and back to me.'
Paula looked like she was fighting to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. 'Oh, all right, Momma. If you want to think he's still here, Preacher Wayne said it's understandable for the first few months.'
Helena made no comment. Preacher Wayne was quoted so often in this town, she would not have been surprised to see him come out with a quote-of-the-day calendar.
Paula changed the subject. 'Can't someone else help Crystal Howard? Or maybe you could just talk to her, give her advice. But don't go to lunch. At least not where you'll see anyone we know.'
Helena was disappointed in her daughter, but somewhere deep down she knew that a part of the blame for what Paula had become lay with her. When the girls were small, she had left them in someone else's care most of the time. Helena told herself that, as a single mother she had to make a living but, in truth, she'd always felt like an outsider. Almost from birth, the twins bonded with one another, treating her as a stranger. She had built a successful business by working day and night. The twins were passed from day care to babysitters to housekeepers.
'I need to help Crystal,' Helena answered. 'For her sake and mine.'
'Oh, I understand.' Paula's whole body relaxed. 'You do need something to keep you busy. A project. Everyone will understand that.'
