And they are happening in your life,the voice in her head whispered.
She tuned back into the conversation when Nash asked, “Is this what therapy is? Just telling our life story?”
“Nope,” Bernie replied. “Therapy is talking about whatever comes to a person’s mind. As I think of selling the Chicken Coop, it brings back memories of what might have happened if I hadn’t drawn that hand. I might have gone back home to Fritch, Texas, and fell into a rut—one that wouldn’t have brought me nearly as much happiness as this place has.”
“Like marriage, kids, and grandkids?” Clara asked.
“Maybe, but the Universe smiled on me that evening, and like that old song says, ‘I did it my way.’ I don’t have a single regret about my life.”
“Not even that our family has been so ugly?” Claraasked.
Bernie took another puff and blew out more smoke rings that disintegrated as they floated up into the trees. “Nope. Had they let me live my life my way and loved me unconditionally, I might have never ended up being as happy as I have been. I have a lot of wonderful memories. And now I’m going to move to Spanish Fort and make more. Mary Jane and her girls need me,” she said.
To Clara’s way of thinking, the night really did get stranger with each passing moment. She hadn’t expected to ever be Bernie’s favorite niece, but she needed her as much or more than anyone at the Paradise did. She couldn’t tell her that she didn’t want her to leave Ratliff City—not when she seemed to be set on retiring. Bernie had done so much for her that to beg her to stay would be beyond selfish.
Endora needs her worse than you do.Evidently the voice in her head had a different opinion.That cousin of yours needs some sass in her life to bring her out of the depression.
Nash took a sip of his whiskey. “This is a peaceful place back here, and I hope that sometime in the middle of August, I can call it home.”
“You’ve certainly proven yourself the past week,” Bernie said, “but you have to give me your word, both verbally and on paper, that if you ever sell the bar, I get first chance at buying it back. It’s an institution in these parts, and I don’t want it sold to someone who will tearit down and put in a gas station.”
“You’ve got it, and I’ll sign the papers saying so,” Nash promised.
“Okay, then, that is taking a step forward. Next Saturday night you can have a turn, Clara, at telling us whatever is on your mind,” Bernie nodded toward her and stubbed out her cigar on the ground. “Right now, I’m going to bed. You kids can stay up and visit until the cigars or the whiskey or both is gone, but don’t come crying to me if you have a hangover tomorrow morning, Clara.” She set Pepper on the ground and stood up. “You might want to keep that smoke going until you are ready to call it a night.”
“Why?” Clara asked.
Bernie tossed back the last of her drink and set the red plastic cup on the chair. “The mosquitoes that cross the Red River from Texas are only slightly smaller than buzzards, and if they gang up on someone as small as you are, they could carry you away faster than an EF5 tornado. But they hate any kind of smoke, but especially that from cigars. Don’t forget that we are taking the trailer to Spanish Fort tomorrow, and we’re supposed to be there by noon. See you Monday evening, Nash. Come on, Pepper, it’s way past our bedtime.”
“I’ll be here at five o’clock,” he said. “Have a good time tomorrow and be safe.”
“I always have a good time at the Paradise, but I’ve never been accused of being safe.” Bernie chuckled andwent inside the apartment.
Clara took one more puff of the cigar and stubbed it out on the ground. “I’ll take my chances with the mosquitoes. I know you were a lawyer, and that you got tired of long hours, but are you getting a dose of culture shock? Moving from a city the size of Dallas to this place has to be quite an adjustment.”
“In Dallas, I never had time to do anything other than sleep and go to the office,” Nash said. “Most of the time I even ate there. I used to wonder why I even paid rent on an apartment. There was a gym and a shower at the workplace, and I could have kept my clothing in a locker.”
“Even during the pandemic?” she asked.
“I used the apartment during the time I worked from home, but the hours didn’t slow down much if any. What about you? Is coming here a culture shock for you?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” she said with a giggle. “And that’s a joke. I left behind the small town of Fritch with a population of less than two thousand to come to a place that doesn’t even have a hundred people living in it. The only thing here is cows and the Chicken Coop, from what I can see. Fritch does have a couple of businesses and a few stop signs.”
“That means we are working at the most prosperous establishment in the whole town of Ratliff City,” Nash told her.
She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. Hermind said it was well past the time to get some sleep. Her heart told her that she wanted to stay and talk to Nash for a while longer. “Churches, bars, and post offices hardly ever go out of business. So, I don’t think that the bar will suffer when Aunt Bernie takes wings and flies across the Red River.”
“Never thought of it that way,” he said. “I have a question. You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal or painful, but why were you so upset when you arrived here?”
“It is very personal and painful, but here it is,” Clara said. “There seems to be a pattern in my family. Sisters who are very different, and at odds with each other most, if not all, of the time.”
“Aren’t they all?” Nash asked.
“This family takes it to the extreme. Aunt Bernie owns a bar. My grandmother is super religious and condemns Bernie for her lifestyle. Aunt Bernie had no children, but Nana had three—a son, and two daughters. Mark, Marsha, and Mary Jane. If I ever have kids, I’m not going to give them all names that start with the same letter. Marsha is my mother, and she is a chip off the old block. She and Nana are very quick to pass judgment. Believe me when I say it’s either their way or the highway, and I’m living proof of that statement.”
“Hold on a minute and let me get this straight. I can see where Bernie and her sister would be very different, and there would be hard feelings there, but what has thatgot to do with you?” Nash asked.
“I’m getting to it,” Clara answered. “You heard Aunt Bernie’s story of how her generation of two sisters have always been at cross horns. Then my mother comes along, and she and her sister are wildly different. My mama was an FBI agent until she retired and got all wound up in the church with Nana Vernie Sue. Her sister, Mary Jane, lives in an old brothel called the Paradise, and she writes steamy romance books. In each generation there is a set of sisters. One is a pretty white sheep, and the other is a coal-black one.”
