The Widows of Wichita County Page 4

  Anna knew little of such a life, but from the way they talked, their times were more sad than happy. Out of habit, Anna began logging in new words as the women talked. She had learned both English and French before she left for boarding school, but it was the words that were not in the dictionary that fascinated her most. Randi's vocabulary was richly painted in bold strokes.

  "M-maybe you would rather be with your f-family?" Anna suggested when Randi and Crystal finally ran out of stories.

  Randi shook her red hair. "I don't have none to speak of. My mother ran off with a salesman from the farm and ranch show at the Tri-State Fair the year I was three. My father hasn't called me since last Christmas." She laughed to herself. "He'd probably call on my birthday, if he could remember it. I'm sure he misses kicking the shit out of me every time he gets drunk. The bastard was meaner than the devil's brother and so dumb I'm surprised his sperm knew how to swim. With a father like him, you got nothin' to do but pray you're adopted."

  "I'm pretty much the same," Crystal added. "My stepdad booted me out when I was sixteen and told me not to ever bother knocking on their door again. Mom had to sneak me out a bag of my clothes after dark. She gave me forty bucks and wished me well in this life before telling me not to bother calling to ask for money or anything."

  Crystal rubbed her hand along her workout suit, smoothing away memories with the wrinkles. "I only have my Shelby. Sometimes, when he's busy doing something, he'll give me forty dollars and tell me to get lost, but before I can leave the room he always laughs and says I'd better not be gone long." Tears tumbled down a face long free of makeup. "His two grown children hate me, though. If he's dead, I'll be lucky to get my clothes out of the house, even in paper bags, before they bar me from the property. Shelby's all I have. All I've ever had."

  "You're not in Shelby's will?" Randi pulled the tab on her diet drink.

  "I mentioned it once, and Shelby said his son told him that's the reason I married him, to get all his money. I guess Shelby wanted to prove them wrong, 'cause he never changed the will and he kept all of Howard Drilling out of community property. I never asked him about it again."

  "You poor thing." Randi draped her long arm around Crystal's shoulder and squeezed. The gesture offered more discomfort than sympathy, but neither woman noticed. "I always figured when you hooked up with him, it was your lucky day."

  "I do love him," Crystal cried. "No one understands, but I do. I'd love him if he didn't have the money or the big house. I can't think about what it would be like without Shelby."

  Helena lowered herself into the chair next to Anna, directly across from Crystal. "We know you love him." The older woman patted Crystal's arm. "J.D. told me many a time that you must love Shelby to put up with his drinking and pranks."

  Anna thought Crystal suddenly looked far younger than her years as the tears ran down her face. She and Randi had to be close to thirty, but Anna felt a lifetime older. They might have lines forming around their eyes, but Anna felt like she had them on her heart. Maybe people who never got involved in life aged faster on the inside. Anna felt sorry for Crystal, the kind of blind love she had for Shelby seemed far sadder than the cold, routine love she had for Davis.

  "Shelby isn't so bad." Crystal sniffed. "Oh, he gets crazy and makes me do things that embarrass me something terrible in front of his drinking buddies. But then he says he's sorry and can't live without me. He's always buying me stuff after he hurts my feelings."

  "Jewelry?" Randi leaned closer, looking genuinely interested in her friend's whining. The lines on Randi's face reflected years of answering to last call.

  "Sure. Lots," Crystal said proudly. "But it's all locked up at the office. Trent won't get it for me unless his daddy tells him to." Crystal blew her nose. "I don't care about the money or the jewelry. I just want Shelby." She sniffed loudly once more. "I don't want to be out on the streets again. I want to be close to him and he feels the same. He says his heart doesn't start each morning until he looks at me."

  Anna watched as Helena pulled the crumbling group back under control. "What about you, Meredith? Is there family you'd rather be with?"

  The schoolteacher raised her head. She had not said anything in half an hour. The size-too-small sweater she wore was hopelessly twisted, once more making the letters tumble together. "No," she answered. "My mom moved to Arizona to live with her sister when she retired. I have no siblings, or kids of my own. I guess I always figured Kevin is enough of a kid to keep me busy. Since I can't go back to my classroom, this is as good a place as any to wait." She lowered her head, returning to the thread she had been twisting off her sweater.

  "Well, I have enough kids for us all." Helena smiled. "I had two girls by my first husband. Twins, though they look nothing alike. My second husband had four children I helped raise, but none of them live close any longer. I was fifty when I married J.D. but if it had been possible, I'd have had his child."

  "You're kidding." Randi gulped her drink. "You'd be on Social Security before the kid got out of high school."

  Helena laughed. "It's crazy, but I wish I could've done that for him. He's my third husband, and the only man I ever really loved. If he's dead, he'll also be my last. God only made one man like J. D. Whitworth."

  "I-I have tried," Anna said slowly, trying not to stutter. "T-to have children, I mean. But there have been no babies."

  "Not me." Crystal shook her head. "First, a kid would ruin thousands of dollars of surgery. Second, I might have a brat like Shelby's others. I can't see going through all that to bring someone like Trent Howard into the world."

  "That kind of thing is not for me," Randi's low voice was added to the group. "I don't mind running the plays, but I sure don't want to make a touchdown. Western clothes are hard to find in maternity sizes."

  Suddenly the talk turned to life, and living life, and making choices all women have to make. Their conversation became real. No need for social barriers or polite lies. Somehow, the accident, on the rig miles away, made them all the same. All equal. All sisters. The fear they shared brought them together, making each stronger because of their bond.

  They talked of the joys in their lives and the changes they wished they had made. Helena, as the oldest, perhaps felt she could be the most honest and her honesty cleared the table of all pretenses. She told of marrying young the first time and losing him in Viet Nam, a month after the twins were born.

  For a while she had been a single mother trying to start a business and rock two babies at night. After five hard years, she'd married a man ten years her senior for security.

  They'd found baby-sitters and housekeepers to manage the children and he'd taught her how to build her small dress shop into Helena's Choice.

  When he'd died years later all she could say about him was that he had been a good accountant.

  Randi talked of deeds done and regretted, Meredith talked of thoughts she harbored, and somewhere in the confessions the cowgirl and the schoolteacher were the same. The difference lay only in degrees.

  Anna mostly listened and smiled to herself. In the strange room so far from Italy, she suddenly felt very much at home. She even told the others of her art, something Davis would never approve of, and, to her surprise, the women were interested.

  The room finally grew silent, except for the low rumble of the vending machines. Each woman knew they were opening, showing themselves as they never would have done under normal circumstances. Their honesty bred a calmness that floated like a current through the room, washing away worry and fear.

  Helena leaned across the table and touched Crystal's manicured hand with her wrinkled one. "No matter what, we'll survive, dear. If no one else, we have each other. I'll be there for you, if you need me. I swear."

  "Helena's right." Meredith added her hand brushing the older woman's. "We can get through this."

  Randi joined the covenant. "Oh, well. Hell, why not. I'll help where I can, if any of you need me."

  Slowly, Anna's hand fini
shed the circle of fingers in the center of the table. No one said a word, but a pact wove its way around them. They silently agreed to stand beside one another. Women from different worlds within the same small community.

  Whatever lay beyond the door did not seem so terrifying knowing someone stood near. They were silent, thinking of what was to come, realizing the news would be bad for some, if not all, in the room.

  The door opened with a slight swishing sound. All hands retreated slowly, yet the covenant remained. Invisible. Strong. In the passing of a few hours they had put aside their masks and accepted one another. The world's intrusion would not alter that acceptance. For the first time in her life, Anna did not feel so alone.

  "Ladies." A retired doctor shuffled into the room on shoes that never lifted from the floor. He was stooped with age and looked well into his seventies, but intelligence shone from his eyes. "The staff called me in to help right after they sent the ambulance out to the Montano place. I was here by the time the men started arriving. Because I know most of you, I was asked to speak to you."

  He nodded a greeting to Helena and Crystal, and then touched Meredith on the shoulder. When his watery gray eyes met Anna's, he said, "I'm Dr. Hamilton." Before Anna spoke he added, "Mrs. Montano."

  Randi turned toward him, lifting her coke a few inches. "Doc."

  "Randi," he answered with an honest smile.

  "We've been waiting." Randi sat up in her chair. "Hope you can tell us something."

  He cleared his throat, trying to be professional. "As I'm sure you know, all five of your husbands were on a rig Shelby Howard built that stood on Montano land. The way I hear it from a few of the crew being treated for burns, J.D. planned to invest extra money in the rig so one of the bank officers, Kevin Allen, had to come along for the ride."

  He glanced at Randi and added, "Jimmy was there with Shelby. Helping out as always."

  "And how many workers were on the rig?" Helena asked, needing the details.

  "None," the doctor answered. "Jimmy had offered them a beer from the cooler in his trunk. From what I understand that is pretty much routine."

  His eyes bubbled with tears. "Only your husbands were standing on the rig when a box of explosives, that never should have been near the place, exploded."

  The women waited, knowing Dr. Hamilton had said the easy part of his tale. He stared just above their heads as he added, "Four were killed. The man still alive is hanging on by a thread. We tried to get a helicopter from Parkland, but the storm's preventing that. I did get a specially trained nurse to drive over from Wichita Falls. She arrived about half an hour ago in her car packed with much needed supplies."

  The sheriff slipped into the room and stood behind the doctor. He was tall and solid in his tailored uniform. He stood at attention, official.

  Hamilton continued, "I asked Sheriff Farrington to join us in case you have any questions. He's here to help in any way he can. He'll also see you make it past the reporters if you don't feel like talking to them."

  Randi was the only one who glanced in the sheriff's direction. The others waited for the doctor to continue.

  Hamilton's sorrowful gaze darted from one woman to the other. "I don't know how to say this easily." He clenched his jaw, forcing tears not to fall. His hand shook so badly he had to grip the lapel of his coat to keep his fingers steady.

  Anna stood and folded her arms, hugging herself as tightly as she dared. Her riding jacket seemed to offer her no warmth now.

  Randi pulled Crystal against her.

  Meredith moved close to the door, looking as if she might bolt at any moment.

  Only Helena faced the doctor directly. "We've waited long enough, Simon. Say what you have to say and get on with it. Bad news doesn't get any better with age."

  The doctor nodded and turned to Meredith. She looked like a firing squad had just drawn aim on her. She did not move.

  "I'm sorry, Meredith. We determined Kevin's body by size and blood type. He was a good three inches taller than the others and the only 0 positive among the men."

  Meredith opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She would have slid to the floor, but Sheriff Farrington's arm encircled her and held her up. He seemed a cold man and his hug felt cold now, as though he were only doing his duty, nothing more.

  "Kevin," Meredith cried. "I want Kevin. We've been together since we were sixteen. How can he be gone?"

  "If it's any comfort, Meredith, he didn't suffer. We think the blast killed him, not the fire that followed." The doctor swallowed hard. "I signed his birth certificate so I asked if I could sign the death certificate."

  The sheriff held Meredith steady. She turned her face into his shoulder and sobbed.

  Dr. Hamilton looked at Helena. "I'm sorry, Helena. J.D. fought for life all the way into town but died before we could get him stabilized. He was a soldier to the end."

  Helena nodded but did not move. She sat like a statue at the end of the table. Not a hair out of place. Not a wrinkle to be seen on her clothing, but her heart crumbled inside.

  "The other three men were almost the same height and build. All B positive. They were burned so…" The doctor stopped, not wanting to tell more.

  He stared at the center of the table.

  "The one still alive only has a slim chance and, if he makes it, it will take months, maybe even years, of care and therapy. He wore a plain wedding band. We had to cut it off."

  A single tear rolled down Anna's face. "D-Davis wore no wedding band," she whispered in a blending of English and Italian. She took Helena's hand as she joined the growing ranks of widows.

  The doctor raised his fist and slowly opened his palm. "This will tell us who's alive, I guess."

  All the women stared at the ring. A plain gold band, badly beaten and twisted, tarnished to black. It belonged to one of the Howard men, either Shelby, Crystal's husband, or his nephew, Jimmy.

  Tears streamed, for the first time, down Randi's face. She choked in one deep breath. No one moved.

  Anna raised her gaze to meet Randi's terrified stare, then she thought she saw Helena nod slightly to Crystal. The movement was so small no one else but Crystal seemed to notice. In the length of a heartbeat Crystal nodded back, first at Helena, then at Randi.

  Meredith's wide-eyed look was unreadable as she stopped her sobbing and watched.

  Crystal glanced around at each of the women, then straightened slowly. Her stare locked with Randi's, not on the ring in the doctor's hand. Understanding and sympathy passed between the two women.

  Not a woman in the room breathed as Crystal slowly raised her hand and took the ring. She buried it into a white knuckled fist and closed her eyes. "Shelby's alive," she whispered. "Shelby's alive."

  Randi pulled her hands off the table, covering her left hand with her right. She huddled into herself as though the room had grown suddenly cold.

  Among the riggers in the early days of the Clifton Creek oil boom the question wasn't if you'd be hurt, but when. It was often said, after an accident, that fire climbed the rigs with lightning speed and no one within a hundred feet would be left untouched.

  October 12

  Just after midnight

  County Memorial Hospital -A makeshift ICU room

  Pain materialized one inch at a time into his mind until it filled every pore, every cell of his body. He couldn't move. lie wasn't sure he was even breathing on his own. There was nothing but fire seeping into his skin where it continued to smolder, burning all the way to his bones.

  The weight of the sheet pressed agonizingly against him, while a tube choked past his swollen vocal cords, holding back a scream. Fighting with a strength borrowed from the deep recesses where life struggles to survive without consciousness, he pulled at tubes clawing their way into his arms. But his fingers had been individually wrapped with fine gauze and cupped, as if to hold a can, around a soft mass. The gentle splint rendered his efforts to touch anything useless.

  Figures moved around him. Sho
uting. Ordering. Begging him to stop resisting.

  He stilled, more from a need to conserve his last bit of strength than from cooperation. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't tell if they were bandaged or swollen closed.

  "Please don't move, Shelby," a soft voice cried close to his ear. "You'll only hurt yourself more. Skin is coming off each time you move. Please be still."

  He couldn't make sense of the madness.

  "They're giving you morphine for the pain," the woman whispered between sobs. "It won't hurt so bad in a few minutes. Hang on, darling."

  The fight to stay conscious was lost before he could tell her no one had ever called him darling. He drifted on an ocean of turmoil so constant it became commonplace, a part of him.

  "Shelby?" the soft voice came again. "Shelby, can you hear me? They're changing the bags of saline on each arm. I know you hurt, but hang on, darling. Hang on."

  He tried to open his mouth to tell her she was wrong. Somehow there had been a mistake. He didn't want to hear, or think, or feel. A dark void finally lulled him into numbness. Her words pulled him back to the surface where the horror stayed vivid. He wanted his suffering to end.

  Let me die! he tried to beg. But he could not make words form. Let me die! Please, God, let me die!

  Pulling at his bindings, he fought to take flight. If he could run fast enough and hard enough, he could outdistance the pain. He was surrounded once more by shouting and movement and machines. As he fought, he realized he couldn't feel his legs.

  Let me die! his mind screamed. What did it matter? He was already in hell.

  The woman was there in the chaos, begging him to live. She didn't understand. If she knew his torment she would not keep asking.

  The sound of her crying finally eased him back into the blackness where his mind could rest even if his body still throbbed.