Page 42 of Rough Stock
“I’ll just wash them. I’m not used to a dishwasher. I live in a horse trailer, remember?” Shyanna said matter-of-factly. “I don’t mind working. Never have and never will.”
There was silence in the kitchen until Dora said, “Jensen said you went to school for a couple of years. What kind of degree were you trying to get?”
Shyanna chuckled under her breath. “No degree. I was just getting certification as a nursing aide. I figured that would bring in something close to a living wage if I coupled it with overtime or a part-time job somewhere else, along with any rodeo winnings I could get while not traveling very far. You do what you’ve gotta do to get by.”
“Your parents didn’t help you at all?” Dora asked, and Shyanna couldn’t understand why she’d ask, knowing thatJensen had told her about the Owenses. Was she just trying to embarrass her younger house guest?
“No. My parents couldn’t even help themselves.”
“How long’s it been since you saw them?”
“Haven’t seen them since I was eighteen and could get away from them. They probably drank themselves to death a long time ago.” Shyanna just kept washing the dishes, her face red and her hands shaking. It was humiliating, having to stand there and tell Dora all that when she knew Jensen had already laid it all out.
“But don’t you ever wonder about them?” Dora asked.
Shyanna sighed. This woman grew up in a nice house with nice parents. She couldn’t possibly understand. “Not enough to go find them. If they knew how to reach me, they’d be calling and asking for money all the time. So no. I won’t be looking them up.”
“You don’t have anybody?”
“No. I had AuntJessi, but I don’t have a clue where she is. She’s probably married by now, and I wouldn’t know what her name is. By the time I graduated, we’d moved so many times that she’d lost track of us, and we didn’t have phones, so there was no way for me to call her. I think about her sometimes, and I wonder what my life would’ve been like if they’d left me alone and let me live with her. Damn sight better than it was, I’m sure.” Then she realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cuss in your house.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. So what was your aunt’s name? And where did she live?”
Why is she asking me all this?Shyanna wondered. “JessicaTompkins. She was my mother’s sister. We lived in CrestwoodLake, Florida, and she lived on the other side of LakeWales in a little place called IndustryCove. Don’t know why that was its name.”
“Did she grow up there?”
Dear god! Stop asking so many questions!Shyanna wanted to scream. “They grew up just south of Orlando in a little place called CraterBay. That’s all I really know.”
“Interesting. Lifelong residents of Florida,” Dora murmured.
“Yep. The sunshine state. Nothing sunny about it in the house where I grew up.”
Silence fell in the kitchen again until she heard a soft voice say, “Shyanna?”
She turned to find Dora sitting there, looking directly at her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Surely you can understand why I’m afraid for my son. I mean, he’s myson,” Dora said, her voice pleading.
“Mrs.Strader, I have no intention of leading your son down the path of criminal endeavors,” Shyanna said, trying to keep her voice soft. “Even if I was that kind of person, I wouldn’t want to hurt Jensen that way. I… I care a lot about him.”
“But you don’t love him,” Dora pointed out.
“I didn’t say that. But everybody I’ve ever said those words to abandoned me, or hurt me, or did some other awful thing to me. All except AuntJessi and Jensen.”
“What about Jensen?” a sleepy voice said from just the other side of the doorway. When he stepped into the room, his eyes went wide. “What’s going on in here?”
“Your friend cooked breakfast,” Dora said, pointing across the room to the stove and then to the coffee pot. “We all came down to hot, fresh food this morning.”
Jensen grinned. “Was it good?”
The downturned corners of Dora’s smile were loaded with contrition. “It was. Is. There’s plenty. If it’s not still hot, I’m sure it’ll warm nicely in the microwave.”
Shyanna reached for the pan. “Still very warm. I think it’s fine. Want some coffee, babe?” she said, then wished she hadn’t tacked that last word on in front of his mother.
“Yes, ma’am, I really do. And some of whatever that is. Lawd, it smells good,” he drawled.
After she’d served him up a plate full of food and a mug full of coffee, Shyanna went back to cleaning up the mess she’d made, which really hadn’t been much of a mess at all. As she worked, she thought about how she’d have to find a way to get to a store that afternoon so she could get all the things she’d used in the casserole and replace them for Mrs.Strader. And she most certainly wouldn’t try cooking in that kitchen again.
