Behind the Pine Curtain

GERRI HILL

Dedicated to Diane . . . thanks for all your childhood stories
about growing up in the pines. And you didn’t think I was listening!

She ignored the persistently ringing phone, wondering once again why she didn’t just get up and turn the damn thing off. She paused, staring at the words she’d written, unconsciously drumming the keyboard with her fingers. A moment later, her cell rang. She glanced at caller ID, then flipped it off.

“Christ, Ingrid, I’m trying to work here,” she murmured.

But her concentration was broken. She leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms behind her neck before taking off her glasses and slowly rubbing her eyes. She had been at it since seven that morning, breaking only once to refill her coffee cup. She’d been on a roll, and she learned long ago to take advantage of that. To o many days—nights—

she sat there, struggling to get her thoughts down coherently enough to form sentences.

She stood, tossing her tiny wire-framed glasses on the desk, and picked up her cell phone, dialing Ingrid’s number as she opened the fridge.

“It’s me.”

She sniffed the orange juice. It was four days past expiration, but she filled a glass anyway.

“Where the hell have you been?” Ingrid demanded.

“Here. Working. As you informed me two days ago, I have a freakin’

deadline,” Jacqueline mimicked.

“I’ve been calling for hours.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been ignoring you.” The orange juice was indeed sour, and she poured it out, eyeing the coffee instead.

“Some man has been trying to reach you. He said it’s a family emergency.”

Jacqueline paused, putting the coffee pot back on the warmer without looking. “Family? Whose family?”

“I gathered yours. But I wasn’t aware you had a family.”

“I don’t,” she murmured. She hated the nervousness, the adrenaline that coursed through her, making her heart pound faster. She took a deep breath. “What was the man’s name?” She waited, hearing papers rustling on her agent’s desk.

“John Lawrence.”

Jacqueline leaned against the counter as her eyes slid shut.

“Daddy?”

“In here, little darlin’.”

Jackie stood in the doorway of her daddy’s study, staring at the
stranger sitting in one of the large leather chairs across from her daddy.

“And just where are your shoes, young lady?”

Jackie looked down at her dirty bare feet and grinned. “Been out
playing, Daddy.”

“ Yo u better make sure you’re cleaned up before your mother gets
home,” he warned. “Or we’ll both have heck to pay.”

“I will. But can I take my bike into town first? It’s still early. I wanna
go to Kay’s.”

“Sure. Just be careful.”

Jackie looked again at the stranger. “Who’s he?”

“This is my new attorney, Jacqueline. Meet Mr. Lawrence.”

“Do you know him?” Ingrid asked, bringing Jacqueline back to the present.

“I know him, yes.” Jacqueline walked to her desk. “Give me his number.”

After a mumbled good-bye to Ingrid, Jacqueline paced in her living room, pausing occasionally to stare out her windows at Monterey Bay.

The earlier fog had dissipated, giving way to sunshine as it tried to chase away the cold. It did nothing to warm her, however.

She wouldn’t call him. Whatever news he had—and it most definitely involved her parents—was of no interest to her. In fact, she couldn’t believe that John Lawrence had tried to track her down at all. After all, it’s been . . .
fifteen years
.

Fifteen years
. She slowly shook her head. A lifetime ago. In fact, honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d even crossed her mind. And Kay. God, it had been so long since she’d thought of Kay, but she had little trouble recalling the smiling face of her childhood friend. Her best friend. Of course, her friendship with Kay was another casualty of the war inflicted upon her by her parents. But, it had been a short war.

And they had won.

She walked quickly into the kitchen and slid a wineglass off the rack. It was only two, but her writing was done for the day. John Lawrence had seen to that. From the fridge, she retrieved the bottle of chardonnay she’d opened just last night. Beside it was the dinner she hadn’t bothered to eat. After her first sip of wine, her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t remembered breakfast, either.

Her deadline was fast approaching, but that wasn’t the reason she worked right through meals. She was simply on a roll. For the last two days, the words had come easily, filling page after page. Her first draft was due in three weeks, and even though she hadn’t told Ingrid, she was already finished with the draft. But when she beat her deadlines, her publisher had a habit of shortening them. So, she’d wait until the last day to send it to Ingrid. No, what she was working on now was a completely new novel, one Ingrid knew nothing about. She didn’t like to share outlines until she was at least three-quarters done with it. To o many times, she’d written half a story, only to find it fell apart, and she ended up trashing it. Then she’d have Ingrid on her ass, urging her to finish a book she’d lost desire for.

She went back to her desk and stared at the paper where she’d scribbled John Lawrence’s phone number. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to call him and find out what was going on.

She walked out onto her spacious deck overlooking Monterey Bay. The cold, biting wind of earlier had subsided somewhat, but the early spring day was still cool. In the distance, she stared at the Santa Cruz Mountains, a sight the fog usually kept hidden. She was relaxed, calm, when the phone was answered.

“John Lawrence. May I help you?”

She swallowed once. “This is Jacqueline Keys, Mr. Lawrence. I understand you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Jacqueline, thank you for returning the call. How have you been?”

Jacqueline paused long enough to flick her eyes over the bay. “Fine.

Just fine. What can I do for you?” she asked, dismissing any further pleasantries.

“I have some very bad news regarding your father, Jacqueline.”

“Mr. Lawrence, I’ve not heard from my father in fifteen years. Don’t preface something by saying you have bad news. Why don’t you just say you have news regarding my father?”

A pause on the other end of the phone, then a subtle clearing of the throat. “You’re right of course. I’m sorry, Ms. Keys. Your father was killed in an automobile accident yesterday. Your mother is in critical condition, although she is expected to recover. She is hospitalized with a broken pelvis, broken legs and back. She has a punctured lung from broken ribs, the most serious of her injuries.”

Jacqueline stood quietly, her eyes still scanning the distant Santa Cruz Mountains. She regarded the news, acknowledging that she felt no sorrow, no regret. They were fifteen some-odd years removed from her life. Long ago, she had grieved for her lost family. She had nothing left to give.

“I see.” She paused. “Mr. Lawrence, I’m wondering why you felt the need to share this information with me. As I’m sure you are aware, my parents kicked me out of their life quite some time ago.”

“It was your father’s wish that I contact you. I’m simply following his directive.”

“I see,” she said again. “Well, thank you for the information. Good day.”

Before she could disconnect, his voice called to her.

“Wait! I was hoping I could persuade you to come to Pine Springs.

Your Uncle Walter is making the arrangements, what with your mother in the hospital and all, but I think you should be at the funeral,” he said in a rush.

“Why in the world would you think that? Mr. Lawrence, my parents put me on a bus when I was seventeen years old and shipped me out of town. I’ve not heard from them since. And I don’t plan to attend any funeral.”

“I really think it’s in your best interest that you be here, Ms. Keys. If not you, perhaps you could send your attorney.”

“My
attorney
?”

“Ms. Keys, you probably are not aware of the extent of your father’s business holdings. Without revealing the contents of his will, which obviously has not yet been executed, I strongly suggest, Ms. Keys, that you come to Pine Springs.”

Jacqueline closed her eyes, lightly rubbing her forehead with two fingers as she tried to ward off the fast approaching headache.
Go to
Pine Springs?
She shook her head. It was a place she swore she would never set foot in again.

“Excuse me? You’re
what
?” Ingrid demanded.

“Going to Texas,” Jacqueline said again. She moved through her bedroom, phone tucked against her ear as she pulled out clothes and tossed them on the bed.

“Texas?” A pause. “
Texas!
Have you lost your mind? We have a deadline, in case you’ve forgotten! You can not possibly go to
Texas
, of all places,” Ingrid yelled through the phone.

“My father was killed in a car accident,” Jacqueline said easily.

“There’s some legal business.”

“Your father? I’m sorry, Jacqueline, but you’ve never spoken of family.

I’m sorry.”

Jacqueline folded the soft jeans in her hand, wondering why she’d never told Ingrid about her childhood. Ingrid was her agent and nearly twenty years her elder, but still, they were friends. She wondered why it had never come up.

“I left home when I was seventeen. I’ve not been back.”

“Why?”

Jacqueline stopped, turning around her bedroom, her eyes lighting on familiar objects, seeing none.

“I’m gay.”

“Yes, I know. I am, too.”

Jacqueline allowed the briefest of smiles. “I was gay, so I wasn’t welcome in my home any longer,” she explained. “I wasn’t welcome in Pine Springs.”

“Then why are you going back?”

Yes, why, Jacqueline?
Why go back to a town that laughed at you? Why go back to a mother who said you were abnormal and a disgrace to the family?

“Closure,” she said quietly. And it was true. She’d been whisked out of town so fast, she’d not had time to say good-bye to anyone. Kay, mainly. She’d not had time to reconcile her feelings, she’d not had time to even contemplate what was going on in her life. She’d just gotten up one morning and found herself on a bus, heading out of Pine Springs.

“Closure?”

“Yes, closure. And perhaps a chance to see my mother, to show her that I survived.”

“Unless she’s been living in a cave, I’m sure she knows you’ve survived, Jacqueline. Having two novels made into movies, even in Pine Springs, Texas—wherever that is—I’m sure they’ve heard of you.”

Jacqueline walked back out into the living room, needing space, needing to see the bay. She slid open the doors, walking out, ignoring the fog and the cool wind that tossed the dark blond hair about her face.

“My father was mayor of Pine Springs when I was in high school,” she said, leaning heavily on the railing of her deck. “My family owned the largest lumber mill in East Texas, so they were very visible. Having a gay daughter was, naturally, the talk of the town. They put me on a bus with a hundred bucks in my pocket and told me not to come back until I’d come to my senses.”

“
My God
. Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Why in the world would you go back? Do you think you
owe
them something?”

“No. I don’t owe them anything. Maybe I want them to see that I’ve made something of myself,” Jacqueline admitted. Despite her mother’s warning that she would come crawling back on bended knees, begging them to let her stay, she survived. And she was proud of that fact. No, she didn’t owe them anything.

She heard Ingrid sigh, knew the older woman was twisting the gray hair above her ears into knots, knew she was counting to ten before she brought up the book.

“I don’t mean to sound uncaring or anything, Jacqueline, but . . . but what about the book?”

“Don’t worry, Iggy, I’ll have my laptop. I can e-mail you anything you need.”

“Jesus, Jacqueline, I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yes, I know. And I promise I’ll meet the deadline.”

“You’ll have your cell?”

“Of course.”

“You think they have service out there?”

This time, Jacqueline did laugh. “Ingrid, I’m not going to a third world country, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“Have I ever missed a deadline?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go. Quit worrying. I may be back within the week, anyway.”

“Just keep me updated, please. You know my blood pressure is not what it used to be.”

Jacqueline disconnected, still standing on her deck as the clouds swirled over the bay, letting her mind wander back to those carefree days of childhood.

“Come on, Kay. You can make it.”

“I don’t know, Jackie. It’s pretty high.”

“I promise, I won’t let you fall.” Jackie reached down and offered her
hand to Kay. Kay didn’t hesitate. She let Jackie pull her up the tree to
the first limb, sitting across it like a horse, just as Jackie was. “See?