The Taming of Billy Jones Page 8

  "Oh, Billy…"

  He dropped his hand and shut his eyes again. The world, blessedly, went away.

  * * *

  The next time he woke, it was two hours later. And he felt better. Not good exactly, but better. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a while, gathering his energy, thinking of pulling on his boots. But pulling on his boots would take more effort than he was willing to expend right then.

  He wanted coffee and a shower. He knew his own constitution. By the time he got a good shot of caffeine in his system and cleaned himself up, he'd be feeling just fine.

  There was no one in the dining room. He started for the kitchen, but then he heard women's voices and children's laughter coming from out front. He looked that way and saw that the door was partway open. He started toward it. The sun was out and shining brightly. It looked like a warm afternoon, for November in the mountains.

  Billy moved quietly through the dining room to the living room and the open door, drawn by the sunshine outside, by the soft drone of feminine voices.

  When he got closer, he edged to the left, so he could see out. He spotted his son, playing on the lawn. The kid wore long pants and a red jacket and he was pushing a small plastic cart filled with stuffed animals. A little girl with shiny strawberry-colored hair sat on a blanket nearby, grooming the mane of a stuffed blue horse. The girl was Jared and Eden's. Billy had seen her yesterday, when he'd stopped in at Eden's house to ask after the old man. The comb she used must have been studded with rhinestones; it caught the sunlight and glittered as she worked. As Billy watched, his son grabbed a teddy bear from the cart and toddled over to the girl.

  Jesse held out the bear.

  The girl said, "You want me to comb it?" Jesse nodded. The girl set her blue horse aside. She went to work on the bear. Jesse dropped down beside her in a monkey crouch and watched the process with great interest.

  Right then, Billy noticed a creaking sound. He turned his head a little and saw a baby, moving in and out of his view, swinging in a windup chair that had been set up on the porch. The baby had the same red-blond hair as the little girl. It was Eden's, too. Eden had been holding the child in her arms when she answered his knock the day before.

  "Oh, Eden. What am I going to do?" That was Prue's voice, from farther down the porch, pitched low and confidential. Billy had been just about to pull the door open all the way and step through it, but instead he froze where he stood.

  Prue went on. "Jack Roper called this morning. Evidently Billy walked into Nellie Anderson's house late last night by mistake. He was really drunk and he thought he was here."

  "Oh, no…"

  "Oh, yes. I guess Jack managed to convince Nellie not to press charges, but the poor woman was frightened half out of her wits. And that's not the end of it. You should have seen him when he finally did get here. He climbed in the guest room window around three a.m., so plastered he couldn't see straight. When I tried to tell him what I thought of him, he told me to lighten up. Then he passed out. This morning, he got up just long enough to vomit. He's been out cold ever since."

  Eden said something about how difficult it must be for a confirmed bachelor like Billy to deal with the reality of having a son. Billy thought he could get to like Eden.

  But Prue wasn't finished. "Eden, he's an alcoholic, I'm sure of it. I never should have invited him here. It was foolish and wrong. Even at Jesse's age, it can't be good for him to see his dad like that. They say little boys need a father, in order to learn how to be a man. But I shudder to think what kind of lessons Jesse will learn from Billy. I just … I hope he gets bored with hanging around here. I hope he goes back to L.A. where he belongs and never bothers to return. And I hope he does it soon."

  Eden started talking then, reassuring and advising. But Billy was already backing away from the open door, from the two children playing in the November sunlight, from the anxiety and frustration in Prue's voice.

  He went to the kitchen, where he should have gone in the first place. He found she'd left the coffeemaker all ready to go. He pushed the button and the brew cycle started.

  Then he returned to his bedroom, got some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. When he came out, freshly showered and shaved, Jesse was sitting in his high chair by the table and Prue was feeding him what had to be mashed bananas, from the look and smell of it. There was no sign of Eden, the little girl or the baby.

  Billy stood for a few moments, watching Prue stick spoon after spoon of banana into the kid's mouth. She didn't even look at him. He cleared his throat. "Good morning."

  Prue shot him an injured, long-suffering look. "Coffee's ready. Help yourself."

  "I will." He was carrying his dirty clothes. "I'll just … put these away first."

  She shrugged and went back to feeding the kid. Billy knew he should just go toss his stuff in his room and get himself some damn coffee. But he couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said to Eden out there on the porch.

  He shuffled from foot to foot. "Look. Maybe I didn't get off to such a great start here."

  She shot him a glance.

  He raised his voice – just a little. "I am trying to say I know that I went too far."

  She glanced at him again, a mean little eye-flick of a look. "You're right. You went too far." She dipped another spoonful of banana.

  He gritted his teeth. "I apologize, is what I'm saying."

  "Fine." She gave the kid another bite and dipped more from the bowl, carefully scraping the excess off the rim as she did it.

  "I'll do better."

  She paused, looked at him – and didn't say a word. The kid pounded his fists on the chair tray. "Nana," he demanded.

  Prue offered the bite of banana she'd already scooped onto the spoon. The kid gulped it down.

  Since she looked so unconvinced, Billy said it again. "I will do better, honestly."

  Another frigid glance. "That would be … nice."

  Nice, Billy thought darkly. She called him an alcoholic behind his back, and when he promised to improve, she said that would be nice.

  And he didn't care what she said, he was no alcoholic. He'd always been able to handle his liquor just fine. Pretty much. Maybe lately, since he'd learned about the kid, he'd been hitting the bottle a little harder than usual. But damn it, he would deal with it. He would show her he could play this thing straight.

  If it killed him.

  She was looking right back at him, her eyebrows raised, waiting to see if he had anything more to say.

  "Na-na, na-na!" the kid demanded.

  She turned from Billy to dip another spoonful.

  "Wait," Billy said.

  She froze with the spoon still empty. The kid continued to pound his fists and chant, "Na-na, na-na."

  "Give him the spoon."

  She looked worried then. "Why?"

  Billy said it again. "Give the spoon to him."

  "Na-na! Na-na!" The kid was starting to get worked up.

  Prue suddenly looked frantic. "Billy, he wants another bite."

  "Now, Woo. Na-na now!"

  "Give him the spoon."

  "But…"

  "Na-na! Na-na!"

  Billy dropped his dirty clothes. "Give it to him. Now."

  She didn't move. So he reached out and took the spoon from her.

  "Na-na, na-na, na-na, now!"

  Billy dipped up a spoonful of banana, grabbed the kid's pudgy hand and wrapped it around the handle. "There. Eat. And shut up."

  Prue gasped. "There's no reason to be harsh with him. He doesn't know how to feed himself yet and when he's hungry he—"

  Billy put a finger to his lips, in a signal for silence. By some miracle, she obeyed.

  Eyes wide, the kid looked at his own hand and the spoon clutched there. Then he looked up at Billy. His little face started to crumple.

  "Uh-uh," warned Billy softly. "None of that damn wussy crying. You eat now. Just eat."

  The kid stared at Billy.

&n
bsp; "Eat. Feed yourself. You can do it. You can."

  Slowly, Jesse raised the spoon to his mouth. He poked in the bite of banana – most of it, anyway. He swallowed. And then, slowly, he smiled.

  "Good goin'," Billy said, and smiled back.

  Jesse hit the spoon on the tray and threw back his head. "Na-na!" he crowed in triumph. "Na-na, now!"

  Billy turned to Prue. "See, he can feed himself."

  The blob of banana hit him on the side of the neck before Prue managed to warn him it was coming.

  * * *

  About forty-five minutes later, Prudence put Jesse down for a nap. Billy was kind enough not to help her with that.

  When she came downstairs from half an hour of singing Jesse to sleep, she found that Billy had left.

  "Oh, no," she said in despair to the empty kitchen. No doubt he'd gone on over to the bar again. He'd be home after closing time, just like last night.

  She sank to a chair, thinking that she had to find some way to get through to him, some way to convince him that he should return to L.A. and leave her and Jesse in peace. As she was shaking her head and sighing, she noticed the note stuck between the salt and pepper shakers: Gone shopping. Back by six. She blew out a breath in disgust. "I'll believe it when I see it."

  She crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the trash under the sink.

  * * *

  Billy returned at five forty-three. He came strolling into the kitchen, carrying a bulging shopping bag, a huge bouquet of flowers and a toy truck.

  He dropped the truck on the floor for Jesse, who immediately started pushing it around and making vroom-vroom sounds. Then he held out the flowers. "Put these in water. And whatever it is you're cooking, save it."

  He held up the shopping bag. "CDs. About fifty of 'em. And I mean it, put that food away. We're going over to the Mercantile Grill for dinner. We have a few things to talk about it, you and me."

  She dropped the carrot she was scraping, grabbed a towel and wiped her hands, irritation at him rising. He simply had no concept of what it meant to be responsible for a child. "Billy. Jesse's too young to take to a nice restaurant. He just won't sit still that long and I—"

  "Jesse's not going." He shoved the flowers at her.

  She took them, grudgingly, and then glared at him over the top of them. "And just what do you suggest we do with him while we're away?"

  Someone knocked at the front door. Billy gestured at the bouquet. "Come on, chop, chop. Deal with those, will you?"

  "There's someone at the—"

  "It's Marnie. Patrick's second daughter. They say she's a hell of a soccer player, and she'd rather hang out with the guys than other girls. They also say she's pretty good with little kids."

  "You found a baby-sitter?" Her irritation abated a bit. The flowers, mostly yellow roses, smelled lovely. And Billy actually appeared to be sober.

  "I've had a busy afternoon." He was already halfway to the door. "Go on up and fix your nose, or whatever you have to do to get yourself ready."

  She trailed after him, feeling uncertain about everything all of a sudden. "My nose is fine."

  "Good. Then you're ready to go." He pulled open the door and ushered Marnie Jones inside.

  * * *

  The food at the Grill was excellent. And they had a candle on their table. It was very civilized and adult and Prudence felt a little guilty at how much she enjoyed taking a night off from baths and bedtime stories.

  "We do need to talk about this … situation we're in here," she said when their salads arrived.

  "We will. Later."

  "But I thought you said—"

  "Prue. I promise. We'll talk. Now relax. Enjoy the food." He smiled at her so sweetly, making her understand what Randi had seen in him.

  "You're just trying to get on my good side," she accused, only half teasing.

  "You bet I am."

  It was so strange. It was almost like a date.

  He ordered wine, which made the meal seem more festive, but also got her worrying that he'd end up drinking too much. And then he surprised her again, by only having one glass, which he raised in a toast to her.

  "For loving my son," he said. Then he laughed low. "Maybe too much sometimes."

  She laughed, too, though she didn't really believe it was possible to love Jesse too much.

  For dessert, they had chocolate cheesecake and coffee. And then they started back toward the house, walking, since they'd walked over in the first place. It felt good to be out in the chilly night air. Overhead, the stars seemed brighter than in the city. Shadowy clouds scudded across the face of the full moon.

  Prudence heard herself suggesting a stroll along Main.

  "Let's go," Billy said.

  But then she remembered Jesse. He hadn't fussed much when they left, but Billy had pretty much pushed her out the door before the poor child had a chance to understand what was happening. "On second thought, maybe we should just go on back to the house. It's Jesse's bedtime now."

  "So?"

  "He's very demanding at bedtime. I wouldn't want poor Marnie to have to put up with too much fussing."

  "Marnie will do fine."

  "But—"

  "Prue."

  "What?"

  "Look up the street. Now look down. You can see all the way to the end both ways. It's an extra ten minutes, max. That's all we're talking about here."

  She knew he was right, though she still felt uneasy about it.

  He took her arm. "Come on."

  They started up the street, toward the post office and the town hall. Just before they reached the post office, they passed a man and a woman Prudence had never seen before. Still, they waved and exchanged greetings. Since coming to North Magdalene, Prudence had learned to say hello to everyone she met. She considered it one of the real benefits of small-town life, that she felt safe exchanging pleasantries with strangers.

  They met up with Nellie Anderson and Linda Lou Beardsly at the town hall. The pair emerged from the double doors in the center of the wide front veranda.

  "Ladies," Billy said, with elaborate politeness. "What a pleasure to see you again."

  The two women looked at him, then pointedly looked away. Each forced a smile for Prudence's sake as they hurried past.

  After they were out of earshot, Prudence suggested, "I'd say you owe poor Nellie an apology."

  "I did apologize. I think." He looked confused. "I seem to remember backing toward the door with my hands up, insisting the whole way how sorry I was. But the memory is pretty hazy. The way I recall it, she threw a vase at me for my trouble."

  "I'm sure she was terrified."

  "Yeah, well. She sure screamed like she was terrified. That woman has a set of lungs on her."

  "She's actually very nice, once you get to know her. And so is Linda Lou Beardsly – that's her friend."

  "Right. I've run into her before, too."

  "When?"

  "She came into the Hole in the Wall last night, to pick up her husband."

  "Linda Lou is very highly respected here in town. She just retired, after thirty years of teaching primary grades at the North Magdalene School. And Nellie Anderson is a pillar of the community church."

  "A pillar, eh?"

  She slid him a glance. "I'm picking up some serious sarcasm."

  He faked a look of pure innocence. "From me?"

  "Yes, from you."

  "I know their type, that's all. They were born to hate guys like me."

  "Oh, come on. You're exaggerating."

  He wrapped her hand more snugly around his arm. She was surprised at how natural it felt to have him do that. "Let's forget about them, all right?"

  She decided there wasn't much point in saying more anyway. They crossed the street and proceeded down the other side, past Sam's gold-sales store and Santino's Barber, Beauty and Variety, on by Lily's, and then past Evie's gift and clothing shop, which was called Wishbook.

  It was five after eight when they got ba
ck to the house. They found Marnie in the living room watching television.

  "Where's Jesse?" Prudence asked.

  Marnie switched off the set. "In bed."

  "Already?" Prudence couldn't believe it.

  "You said to put him down at seven-thirty."

  "I know. But he always gets a story or two."

  "I read him a story. And then he went right to sleep."

  "I think I'll just check on him."

  Ignoring the look that passed between Marnie and Billy, Prudence headed up the stairs. She heard nothing from his room as she approached it, which surprised her. She'd expected a few hopeless sobs, at least. She tiptoed in and found him as Marnie had said she would: sound asleep. She adjusted the covers, resting a hand on his back for a moment, seeking the reassurance that only touch could bring her. His little body felt so good and warm and she loved to feel the movement of his small chest as it expanded and contracted with each breath.

  He was fine. And if she didn't leave him alone, she would probably wake him. She tiptoed back out.

  * * *

  The yellow roses Billy had brought her sat in a crystal vase on the dining-room table. Prudence paused at the foot of the stairs to admire them. They seemed to glow in the spill of light from the living room. Yellow was such a warm, alive color.

  She shouldn't be so pleased with them, really. Roses were a little inappropriate, coming from Billy. Roses meant love. And romance. Prudence wasn't looking for either – and especially not with bad Billy Jones.

  "You like them." He was standing just beyond the arch to the living room, watching her.

  "Yes. Very much. But you shouldn't have."

  "Why not?" She knew his eyes were green. But with the light behind him, she couldn't see their color. They only looked dark. And very soft. "Why shouldn't I buy you roses, if I want to … and if you like them?"

  She didn't know why they were talking about this. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

  He went on watching her. It seemed way too personal, the way he was looking at her.

  She thought of Randi, who could handle any man. Randi hadn't done so well with Billy.

  "I think it matters," he said.

  Her chest felt tight. And she wished her heart would just settle down and quit bouncing around so energetically inside her chest. "Thank you for the roses. Now, let's talk about something else."