Pairing: Jack/Ennis AU
Rating: NC-17 for the story
Summary: This picks up right at the moment in the canon that Ennis receives that infamous post card informing him of Jack's death ... but this is not a Jack!Dead story. This idea is not completely original, but I believe that my interpretation of it is something fresh, uncliche-ed, and enjoyable. Please feel free to leave fair and honest feedback.
Disclaimer: Inspiration for this story and all characters (except for Tom) belong to Annie Proulx.
Chapter Three
His little girl married: Ennis could hardly believe it. He ran his fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass as he sat at his table and watched his very own Junior twirl across the floor with her new groom. This Curt fellow seemed mighty upstanding, and he’d seen the way he looked at his girl and the way she gazed right back at him. He knew that they had found a good thing with each other. From what Junior had told him, it sounded like the life she and Curt could have together had the potential to be some sweet life …
Alma sat down beside him. Well, not directly beside him—she left one chair in between, but at his empty table, nonetheless. “So,” she murmured.
Ennis grunted in agreement.
“Today’s worked out as well as could be expected,” she continued. “And she seems happy.”
Ennis watched his girl lean into the shoulder of her new husband, closing her eyes. Ennis could see the bliss that lovely face held. “Sure enough.”
Alma cleared her throat. “Times I wish our wedding had dancing.”
Ennis was experienced enough to understand that sometimes women said things when they meant something entirely different. Had no idea what that something else was, though. “Never been much of a dancer.”
“Word has it you danced plenty with that Cassie Cartwright over at Larry’s bar.”
Ennis frowned. Her first harsh words of the night, and over Cassie? “I ain’t gonna deny it.”
“You still dance with Cassie Cartwright?”
Ennis tore his eyes away from his daughter and looked at the woman beside him. “Alma, these’re the first words you’ve spoken to me in nearly ten years, and all you wanna talk about is Cassie? What the hell do you care?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I don’t. There something else you’d rather discuss, Ennis?”
“You’re the one what came over here.”
Alma sighed. “Didn’t come over here to argue. Shouldn’t of brought that hussy up in the first place.”
“She ain’t a hussy.”
“Fine, Ennis, fine. I’m sorry. Just thought we oughta be civil to each other on the day of our daughter’s wedding.”
“Fair enough.” Ennis wished Alma’d go back to her husband, back to their busy table with lots of talking. He had no problem sitting here on his own. Why did people have such a tough time understanding that?
“And … guess I wanted to let you know that I ain’t … well, I’ve put whatever happened between you ’n me past me. Don’t see no reason for us to hate each other no more.”
“Never hated you, Alma. That was your choice.”
“Well, could ya blame me, Ennis?”
That carefully controlled voice suddenly breaking into anger again. A tone Ennis had heard many times before, but made him flinch after so long without it. But he did say: “S’pose not.” He turned his eyes away from her.
“So,” she said, “you still go fishing with Jack Twist?”
Ennis heard the words, and at the same time, felt the hurt like a slap, stinging first and leaving a tingling burn behind. After their talk had gotten so pleasant, so soothing even, the slap was even more of a shock.
Alma must’ve seen the hurt in his face, because she didn’t wait for him to say anything when she started to talk again: “I don’t mean that like I did the time before. I just … it was only a question.”
Ennis didn’t care what she thought, but she’d put the name out there, and suddenly the pain of the past month and a half came back to him: he’d gone back to work, managed to convince the foreman that his early departure the day before had been a one-time thing only, and had proceeded to take every hour he possibly could on the job. He quickly learned what a welcome escape work was, and he drank up every last drop of it, dreading the rest of the hours. The rest of the hours were when he was alone in his shack. These hours were not unbearable because he was alone, but because they allowed for no distraction from his thoughts of Jack: the jumbled feelings he couldn’t describe and didn’t try to. Sometimes it seemed like anger, sometimes exhaustion, sometimes simply a deep and penetrating sadness. He escaped at work, and he escaped whenever he saw his girls. This wedding was an escape too, because while there were moments during the ceremony when he felt unbearable jabs of pain that he did not think about, his general feeling was one of joy—for Junior, to be here with her. He was her father, and he couldn’t help but be proud of his little darling.
So, when Alma dared to bring up that name, he couldn’t help but feel anger before guilt. What had happened had happened, and why did she have to bring up Jack Twist if she had put their history behind her? Women. He would never understand, so he fixed her with a glare, hoping she’d get the idea.
She didn’t. “I’m just asking, Ennis.”
“No,” he snapped. “Jack Twist is … Jack Twist ain’t … Jack Twist is dead.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ennis saw Alma’s head snap to him. He tried just to look at his daughters and feel what he’d felt a moment ago, but stronger thoughts were pushing in.
“Well, I s’pose … well, I’m guessing that … you must be …”
Ennis felt his mouth twitch as though it wanted to speak against his will, but he was good at forcing words down. Still, she’d probably keep probing him if he didn’t put an end to things right then. “Don’t wanna talk about Jack Twist.”
“Well, I reckon I already know all I need to know anyhow.”
Ennis kept his mouth shut. If that’s what she thought, he had no interest in arguing. If she’d drop the topic, he’d be happy. Well, mayhap he wouldn’t be happy… he reckoned “happy” wasn’t in the cards for him in the future, but figured he could live with that, had lived most of his life without much joy, could live out the rest with none. The dreams would go away, he told himself. The emptiness and despair would become habit.
Alma stood up. “Well, I s’pose I don’t have more to say. Just … I wish you’d find someone, Ennis. Don’t like you alone all the time. I … well, the girls worry. I sure as hell know how much you’d rather stay in your shell. You just want to sit still as a statue, but it might do ya some good to change a thing or two in your life. Might put your girls at ease a little. They worry about you, you know.”
Ennis looked up at her. “All right,” he said, “I’ll try.” He was thinking that he was happy she was leaving. He was thinking that maybe he oughta go home, drink the last of that bottle he had, lay himself down and forget about everything he didn’t want to think about.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ennis. Sorry about Jack Twist.”
Ennis looked up at her, but before he could look into that face that was nearly as good at not showing the emotions as his was, she’d turned away and was moving back toward her husband. Ennis let a few minutes pass before rising, and heading out to his truck.
* * *
When Jack gave his honest recount of what had taken place six weeks earlier, Lureen recognized how strong her husband was. She knew how difficult it had been for him to speak of this after weeks of barely speaking at all. Other than occasional yes or no answer, he had hardly uttered a word since returning home, and she was concerned about the change she saw in him. But when he gave his statement, she saw all the sass, bravery, and determination she had noticed on the day she first met him: returning her hat to her, teasing and flirting with her after she’d finally approached him (him, to nervous to talk to her, but she was used to intimidating guys, knew how to make sure they knew what she wanted), and staying on top of that bull like he’d made a decision not to fall off, no matter what the son of a bitch bull had to say about it, holding on to that raging ball of passionate anger, because he knew what he wanted, and didn’t care what he had to face in the mean time. It was that reckless determination to do what he’d set out to do that had first attracted her to him. Sure, she wasn’t immune to blue eyes and strong arms, hands, and thighs, but she’d been offered enough of that on a regular basis to know that there had to be something more to hold her interest if she was going to have anything with a cowboy that was going to last longer than the time between showing her barrel-racing skills and her curfew. And in Jack Twist, she saw that difference, and held onto it like a pit bull to … well, to anything it decided to hold on to. She knew better than to doubt herself, so she held on tight, and when things began to slip away from her in a way that she could not fail to ignore, she tried to hang on, and then when physical injury to her cowboy occurred, she was more than perturbed by it.
Two officers had visited her home and sat on her couch with her and Jack while he described what happened. When it was over, Jack went upstairs to lie down, and Lureen went into her office to make a phone call.
“Jack made his statement.”
On the other end of the line, Tom was silent for a moment. “And did he say anything we didn’t already know?”
“He had names. He knew exactly who did it. Joe Stevens and Frank Mills.”
“Well, all right, then.”
“What are you going to do, Tom?”
“For the time being, ain’t going to do a thing.”
“’S’cuse me?”
“I agreed to take care of things if it wasn’t handled proper by the police.”
Lureen couldn’t suppress a snort. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll handle things proper.”
“Maybe they don’t know everything you think they know about Jack.”
“After that situation with Ed Grey last year? I doubt there’s anyone who doesn’t know.” Lureen hated thinking about it, but after that situation, she was no longer able to deny what she’d known for years. The denial used to be fairly easy: as for Jack’s relationship with that Wyoming guy, it was easy not to think about it because it only interfered with her life a couple times a year. She had no reason to think about what Jack might do when he went away to Denver for business, or what he did when he said he was “goin’ out drinkin.’” But it was hard to ignore after what happened with Ed Grey. The way Jack told the story, they were standing around talking, and all of a sudden Ed hauled out and punched him. Hell if he knew how he’d offended the man.
But she’d heard other versions of the story. She’d heard about the way Jack had been hanging too close to Ed, about his suggestion that they get out of there together, about the way Jack had met his eyes. Ed had known what Jack meant and now everyone else did too. Her friends tried to make her feel better, told her that it was only a rumour that had gotten blown out of proportion, but Lureen could see in their eyes that they knew the truth too.
As far as their family life went, both she and Jack did a fine job of ignoring the elephant in the room. What hurt the most was that her son had to put up with it too. They had told him not to believe rumours, but he knew the truth and Lureen had no way to make him un-know it.
Lureen had thought that Jack would finally stop doing this, that what had happened with Ed Grey would teach him a lesson. But he kept going on his fishing trips, and didn’t stop going out at night, and who knew what he did in Denver?
“That situation with Ed Grey could be interpreted in different ways.”
Lureen shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Tom. I know what it means, and so does everyone else.”
“Well, it still don’t mean the authorities won’t take care of it. It’s their job, isn’t it?”
“You chickening out on me Tom?” Lureen’s voice was sharp, demanding.
“Whoa there, who said I was chickening out? I just don’t want to waste my time doing something that someone else was going to do anyhow.”
“You owe me, Tom.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You said you would do this.”
“And I am doing it! I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, well, you better not try to get out now.”
Tom let out a slow sigh. “Why don’t you go spend some time with your husband, Lureen? Don’t worry about me—I ain’t giving up.”
Lureen was still suspicious, but she took Tom’s advice anyways. She crept out of her office. She tip-toed upstairs as though frightened that if she made too much noise, she would disturb something. It was only nine-thirty at night—Bobby was in his room, but she could hear his music blasting and knew he was awake, and she was pretty sure that Jack was awake as well. But she felt that if she was not quiet enough, something in the precarious balancing act that was her life would topple over, so she moved as silently as she could.
Lureen opened the bedroom door and saw Jack’s wardrobe and her vanity table, the love seat in the southeast corner of the room, and the lace curtains on the window, casting an elegant pattern of moonlight onto the pale-rose carpet. She saw the bed, and Jack’s form lying on it, facing away from her, towards the window. She crept up to the bed, and put a hand on Jack’s hip as she sat down.
Jack jumped under her hand and sat up quickly. “Jesus Christ, Lureen! Why the hell’d you sneak up on me like that?”
Lureen pulled her hand back quickly. “Well, I’m sorry Jack. I just didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, starting to turn away from her again.
“Hey,” she said, touching his arm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He didn’t say anything, but he sat up beside her. “How you doing?”
He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “Fine.”
“You did good today when you made your statement, Jack. I’m proud of you.”
He looked at her and for the first time in a long time, she saw some tenderness in his eyes. “Thanks.”
She moved closer to him and placed a hand on his thigh. “Things will get better. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“You can’t promise that, Lureen. And things aren’t going to be all right.”
She pressed herself against him and began to move the hand on his thigh in circles. She put her lips to his ear. “Well, I’m gonna take care of you.” She started to kiss his ear, then down his neck. She moved her hand up his thigh.
“Lureen.”
She hardly heard him. She was entirely focused on what she was doing. Jack’s injuries were finally healed, and it had been six weeks since the incident, and Jack had just spoken more words than she’d heard him speak since then. She was going to show her man just how proud of him she was and what lengths she was going to go to in order to keep him with her.
“Lureen.” This time his voice was more forceful, and he took her hand and pulled it away.
She looked at him. “What’s wrong?” She tried not to sound angry.
“I don’t want to.” No tiptoeing around.
“Why not? Jack, come on.” She moved in again.
“I said I didn’t want to.” Jack pulled away and stood up.
Lureen stared up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? You know, most men would count themselves damn lucky any night their wives gave them an offer like this.”
“Well, I ain’t most men.”
She tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What, you don’t know?”
She took pause at that. In all their years of avoiding, this was the closest they had come to putting things out in the open. For the most part, the avoiding had worked. They lived their decent family life most of the time, and she didn’t have to know about anything else her husband did. But things were different now. Ignoring the reality of the situation had nearly gotten Jack killed and now she was doing something about it. “I’m trying to help you.”
Jack didn’t sit next to her. He just stood there, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothing you could do to help me.”
“You don’t know that. We all make mistakes, and I’m willing to—”
“You don’t know nothing about it, Lureen! Don’t try to tell me about mistakes, ’cause I know that some of the things I done in my life I wish I hadn’t, but there’re some things I’ll never regret.”
“And what about Ed Grey? Was he a mistake?” The words came out before she could stop them.
“That what you want to talk about? Well, I’ll have you know that no, I don’t regret that. I don’t regret what I said to him and what I wanted to do with him.”
Lureen raised herself to her knees, as though her rage were pushing her up. “Shut your mouth.”
“No, I ain’t shutting up! I’m going to say what I want to say. Why the hell does everyone in my life want me to shut up?”
And then, like a switch had been flipped in him, Jack changed before her eyes. His face, red with frustration went suddenly white as a ghost. His tense shoulders sagged, his raised hands fell to his sides. And then his whole body just seemed to fall forward to the bed. He sat on the edge of it, lowered his head to his hands and started to shake. Lureen moved beside him and saw that he was not crying. Only holding his head as though he were afraid it would role away, shuddering, and the expression on his face somewhere between blank and terrified.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Jack?”
He shrugged it off with a jerk of his arm. But Lureen was a persistent woman, and she tried again. This time, he didn’t shrug her off. He allowed her hand to be there and then allowed her to pull him into her. He let her hold him as he shook, and why shouldn’t Lureen allow her man to be upset over what had happened to him and over what he had done? Why shouldn’t he grieve his friend? It would have been unreasonable of her to think that everything would be just fine in only six weeks. She would have to be patient. Patient for Jack.
And after all, she had already had two gifts that night. One had been watching her brave husband give his honest and complete statement. The second was holding her husband in her arms. Because after all that had happened and everything that this Wyoming man had gotten that she had been denied, she was the one holding Jack after he’d made it through this storm. And with all the work she had done, didn’t she deserve it?
* * *
Jack looked at the clock once as he got out of bed. Two-forty-three. He moved quietly to his wardrobe and dressed himself in a pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt. He did not want to wake Lureen, but he was confident that he wouldn’t. He was good at tip-toeing and being careful. He was good at sneaking around.
He went downstairs and grabbed his wallet and car keys from the hall table. For the first time in six weeks, he got into his truck. His heart rate had already increased, his mind had already gone sort-of blank as he thought about not thinking about all the things he wanted to think about. He did what he had decided he would do while he was lying in bed next to Lureen. He reversed out of the driveway, drove less than a mile through sleeping Childress, and parked outside a small bungalow that looked nearly identical to all the bungalows next to it.
He walked up the path to the front door, and rang the doorbell three times. He didn’t worry about disturbing the residents because he knew that only one person was currently inside the Malone residence and he was the person that Jack wanted to disturb.
He did not have to wait long before he was greeted at the door.
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