Chapter 2

TOMORROW ALWAYS COMES - CHUCK

I see your picture in the news most every day
You're the chosen girl of the social world, so the stories say
But a paper smile only lasts awhile, then it fades away
And the love we knew will come home to you some day
Charlie Pride

I'd had to hire someone to replace Sophie and I found a local girl. Her name was Ana Carranza and I'd known their family since I was a kid. The last time I'd seen Ana she had been eight. Now she was a short, curvaceous black haired beauty and certainly no kid anymore.

Her family had been in the area almost as long as mine had. I'd asked some of the guys that helped me as hunting guides, and two of them recommended Ana. One of them warned me.

"She's smart as a whip and is about as good as a hunter as I am. From the time she was ten, her dad took her hunting with him. But I gotta tell you though, she's got a temper like a firecracker. She won't take any shit from anyone but I guarantee she will do a great job for you. I think she knows most of the people that work with you."

Well, forewarned was forearmed. In addition to the stuff Sophie had been doing, she took over responsibility for the rental guns I'd had to purchase. Quite a few of the guys didn't want the hassle of taking weapons on airplanes. We were getting more and more hunters from Europe and South America... plus more than I would have expected from Mexico.

Ana took over everything having to do with the guns: buying, cleaning, safety and security, even cleaning hunters' guns if they didn't want to be bothered. The money they paid for this went directly to her. Quite a few of our repeat customers started leaving their guns with us. Some of the guys from Texas would come to hunt fairly often.

I got on well with Ana and figured out really fast what her hot buttons were and tried to keep these situations from coming up. She was fiercely proud of her heritage and touchy as hell about it. I lost a regular customer from Chicago when she tore into him after he made a racist comment. As he tried to pull her down to his lap, he called her his ruca mojada, essentially his wetback girlfriend.

When I got them separated, he did apologize but I had to ask him not to come back again and I refunded him his money. I had to agree with her that despite what I'd told her, the customer was not always right. She insisted on paying back the money we lost. I couldn't talk her out of it but a few months later I gave her a new Winchester Super X rifle in the 270 WSM. She had an old lever action that her dad had given her but she had never owned a new rifle. The gun dealer we normally used gave me a good discount but it was still close to seven-fifty.

When I gave it to her she didn't want to take it and when I insisted, she teared up and gave me a big hug. Her firm breasts pushing into my stomach caused me for the first time to think of her as other than an employee. She held on to the hug for a long time and I couldn't help but get an erection.

After that I would catch her looking at me in a funny way but she would always turn her head at once. When she hired on, I gave her Sophie's office on the first floor and gave her what used to be the master bedroom suite on the second floor. I had no interest in climbing the stairs all the time so I kept my bedroom on the first floor.

I was with her frequently: meals, meetings, sometimes she and I would go out hunting together. I'd been burnt badly by Sophie so I wasn't looking to rush into anything, but Ana was growing on me. Still and all... damn, life was confusing.

I'd been in San Antonio talking to the loan officer at the bank. I wanted to add four more cabins and a combined dining hall/rec room. I wanted the cabins to be a bit bigger than the old ones: two bedrooms, two bath and a larger living room area. Ana came with me since she was the one that worked with our accountant to put together all the data and projections we would need at the bank.

Things went well and we went to a Mexican restaurant that a cousin of hers owned. It was great food, fiery and tasty. I washed it down with a cold Bohemia but held it to one since I had to drive back to the ranch. Ana had no such reservations, easily working her way through four Negra Modelos. On the way back she took off her seatbelt and leaned against me. I tried to tell her to put on her seatbelt but she just murmured something in Spanish and ignored me.

By the time we got back to the ranch she was sound asleep with her head on my lap. As I pulled up in front of the house I saw a new looking bright red Jaguar convertible. I sure wasn't a Jag aficionado but it looked like the top of the line XKR model - maybe around a hundred grand and with New York plates. I gently slipped out from underneath Ana so as not to awaken her.

I could see Sophie sitting on the top step of the front porch. As I walked up she stood up and starting down the stairs towards me. When we were about five feet apart I stopped and held out my hand in a "don't come any closer" motion.

I hadn't seen her for the better part of two years and she looked damn good. She had on a light tan pantsuit that looked like silk and expensive — I wasn't up on the latest women's fashions but it would probably be a safe bet that the name on the label was French or Italian.

I'd almost forgotten how tall she was and she looked sharp in that stylish outfit. This was a mostly intellectual observation... the only feelings I had were of anger and impatience - and maybe some curiosity about why she was here. Hell, why not ask her?

"Sophie, I have to say you look great. I guess I don't have to ask how you are doing. Uh, could I ask... well, hell! Why are you here?

"Chuck, I'm really sorry for what I did to you. Could we sit down? And, damn, could you get me a beer?"

I led her over to the porch and had her sit in one of the wicker chairs and went in to get a couple of beers. As I left the kitchen to bring the beers back I heard this hellacious screeching coming from the porch and caught a word that sure sounded like "puta!"

I opened the screen door and Ana was all over Sophie. Damn, I'd forgotten about her. They were on the porch with Sophie trying to get away and Ana fighting like a wildcat. I didn't know whether to laugh or to turn and run as fast as I could.

I grabbed Ana around the waist and carried her into the house. I held her tight until she stopped struggling. Somehow my hand was over her breast and I let go like it burned me, which I guess it did.

"Ana, whatinthehell was that all about?"

"Oh, Chuck, I saw that damn puta," I guess she really did say that, "and I knew who she was from a picture of one of the hunts. She... I..."

Here she started crying so I held her for a minute and pushed her towards the stairs. "Go on up to your room, I'll take care of this, okay? I'll talk to you later."

I went back to the kitchen to get a couple of more beers — I'd dropped the others on the porch — and as I did I thought about what I had seen. Sophie had at least eight inches and thirty pounds on Ana but Ana was pushing her around like it was easy. The disquieting image came to me of a time when I'd seen a mother bobcat defending her young. Was Ana defending me, protecting me? Her actions were those of a wild animal defending a loved one. I'd have to think about that.

I went on to the front porch and gave one of the beers to Sophie. She'd tried to rearrange herself but her expensive pantsuit was torn and her hair mussed. I'd swear her right eye was showing all the signs of a shiner... and I wasn't thinking Shiner bock!

I decided not to even mention what had happened... call me a coward but dealing with one woman was a handful. Dealing with two at once was like wrestling with a pissed off longhorn.

So ignoring that, I started, "I think I was asking why you were here?"

She had the grace to look away for a minute, then turned back and said, "Do you remember the song by Ral Donner, "You Don't Know What You've Got?"

Here she sang gently, very quiet, with the same melodious voice she had always had:

You don't know what you've got until you lose it
You gave me you-your love but I abused it...
'cause I know now I acted in a foolish way

"I always wanted to be a famous writer and I saw what I was convinced was the best chance I'd ever had for fame. And the two novels I wrote really did sell well and got very nice reviews."

She looked at me and I nodded that yes, I had received the signed first editions she had sent me. In fact they were damn good.

"But, Chuck, for six months now I haven't been able to write anything. I don't feel creative... I just feel empty.

"Now I know that being famous is nothing more than an illusion if it costs you the things that are most important to you. It took me a long time to realize that — to come to understand that I really did love you deeply. It was that core of love that was my inspiration... that gave me the strength to write. When I truly understood how much I had hurt you with what at the time were only minor misgivings, of how I had totally disrespected the love I knew you had for me, then I... I just couldn't write anymore.

"The big mansion in the Hampton's with the view of Long Island Sound, that trendy apartment overlooking Central park, the fancy clothes, the Armani pantsuits," here she tugged at her torn clothes, "the fancy cars," a nod at the Jag, "the fame, the great restaurants... all that is nothing if you aren't happy. Oh, Chuck, I now know what sorrow is, what shame and regret mean. Do you... is there any love left?"

I just nodded as I thought about it. "Sophie, think about a small boy that is given a prized present for Christmas one year — say a bicycle. He loves that bike, rides it everywhere, and treasures it above all else. Then one morning he wakes up and finds the bike damaged beyond repair. It has been torn, crushed, bent, ruined. The boy is disconsolate. For years there is a part of his heart that that bicycle owned, but now is empty.

"Many years later the boy is a man, mature and better able to deal with the pains life brings. Does he still love that bike? Of course! It will always be a cherished memory, something to bring out and remember with a smile... maybe a bit of nostalgic longing."

I looked closely at Sophie, wanting to make sure she understood. I guess she did because she already had tears in her eyes.

"Sophie, the thing is, regardless of what he thinks, that bike will always and forever remain broken and crushed. Maybe sometimes it will be remembered with a bit of fondness for the happy times it brought. More often, other times, he will remember the pain and hurt of the loss that having something he loved destroyed has brought him.

"You certainly were never a possession of mine Sophie, but you held the biggest part of my heart in your hands for four years and you broke that with nary a concern. Do I still love you? Sure, I always will. I'm not one to give love away freely. Can I live with you? Not a chance. You had to know when you stepped on my love that it would come home to you some day.

"I don't know what has happened with you and asshole," here she winced in real pain... not because of what I called him but because of what he was, "but I don't want to give you any false hope. If you need something from me, I'll give it to you if I can — but I can't give you back my heart."

She sat there, crying for a little. All I felt was sadness, thinking what a waste it all was.

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she looked up and asked, "Is there someone else?" Fingering her torn pants and nodding towards the house, she continued, "That woman? Do you love her... the way she obviously loves you?"

I was stunned and almost overcome with surprise. I knew Ana liked me, but... and how did I feel about her? Wow!

"No, Sophie, nothing has happened between us." Musingly, I continued, "but I can't say it will stay that way."

She went on to tell me the rest of it, not just the writing. Of how Joseph Jenks kept a mistress in an apartment in Greenwich Village, his cold hearted self-centeredness, his arrogance and absence.

"I was just an acquisition to him — a conquest that was a lot easier than it should have been." Here she started crying again, in shame and maybe humiliation.

I didn't want to prolong our meeting. Nothing good or healthy could come from it. I referred back to a discussion we had had right after we met, one of our early dates.

"You probably don't want advice from me but I'm going to give it to you anyway. Sell that damn flashy red car and the diamonds gracing your neck and wrist. You don't need crystal chandeliers in a big mansion. You don't need things. You don't even need me — even though I believe you really do want me again.

"Sell all your junk and move to San Francisco. Find a place on Russian Hill or in Sausalito. Breathe the clean, fresh air and let it make you new. Write again. That's who you really are. Do what you do best and forget possessions and status. Find a way to love life again."