Hard-Headed Texan. Candace Camp
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