Every Wednesday at ten o'clock Ty spent fifty minutes spilling his guts at a cost of two dollars a minute.
He was in the wrong business.
He didn't really whine. He couldn't be more thankful his brother had found Dr. Ritter. The sessions had helped him learn to deal with and began to move past Rhea, but some days he just hated going.
Hated looking at himself. Maybe it was a guy thing.
Before he left, he looked up Bettina's home phone number and stopped to call her. No one answered. He jotted down the number given on the recorded message, then stopped at Tim's and snagged his cell phone.
Now that the effects of last night's Xanax had worn off, he was taking Zack's visit, and the news that Jessa had seen Bettina at her midwife's much more seriously.
A part of him had hoped some neighbor would tell her they'd seen him cutting her grass, and she'd call or come by. That's why he'd gone back a second time. But he hadn't heard from her. How he'd managed to pull it off without the whole town talking about it he had no clue.
And now Bettina might be having his baby.
Which wasn't exactly something he could keep from his family.
But before he could deal with Bettina, he had to get through another session with Dr. Ritter. Thirty minutes later he sat in his regular chair. The nubby blue one with uneven back legs that sat on the right side of her desk.
"How was your week?"
After last night's especially vicious dreams, he felt ornery, and like a toddler, chose to ignore her.
And like a mother, she seemed to read him right. "Have a bad night, Ty?"
"Yeah. Real bad and I'm tired of it."
"What do you think will make them stop?"
"I don't know! Why don't you tell me?" He leaned over and rubbed his tired eyes. If anything, his fatigue had gotten worse the last couple of months, and he didn't feel like thinking today. Not about Rhea or Bettina, he just felt angry and cranky. And he'd much rather take his frustrations out on the back of a horse than be confined and forced to think.
She leaned forward, eyebrows arched, pencil and paper ready. "Bad week? Taking your meds?"
"Yes! And they're not helping! Why can't you wave a wand and make the damn things go away?" He stood and crossed to the window, unwilling to look to his left where Dr. Ritter sat.
"If the Xanax isn't working, then don't take any. We can try something else."
"But what about--"
"Quit taking them at night. Just keep some on hand in case you have a panic attack," she said calmly. Her voice was supposed to soothe him-bring him off the ceiling--but it didn't. Her chair squeaked as she turned in his direction. "What's really wrong, Ty? Besides the nightmares?"
Oh, not a damn thing. He'd been divorced three months. His ex-wife had gone to hell in a handbasket and there was a real good chance he was about to become a daddy. He leaned his head against the thick, tinted glass, looking down on the asphalt roof of the building below, then up at the slate grey sky. "Half the town stares at me while my wife smears my family name. The other half is just waitin' on me to lose it and ram one of my drumsticks though Billy Green's ear."
"Ex-wife."
"Whatever--she knows I won't do shit." The window felt cold against his fingers and forehead. His quip got no reply, and he let his mind wander. He blinked and watched the pigeon on the cement ledge, wishing for a minute he was one. He was sick of the talk floating around town and the huge tangled knot of a mess his life had become. "I just want one good night's sleep."
"You called Rhea your wife."
Here we go. The doc wanted to pick at his scabs again.
"Do you miss her? Do you want her back?"
"You mean after everything she put me through? No."
"Then what exactly do you miss?"
"I don't...I don't know. I miss her but I don't miss her." With a sigh, he propped one thigh on the window ledge and looked at her.
"You know the difference. That's good. So what do you miss, Ty?"
"Being married?" he replied with a shrug.
She nodded and smiled, drumming her pencil on the legal pad. "Are you lonely?"
He released a heavy sigh, his eyes on the carpet now. "Yeah, I suppose. I've been with Rhea for so long, she's like a habit. A bad one, I guess. Hmmpf."
"Good analogy. Maybe it's the companionship you miss. Having that other person around. Someone special?"
"I always...I never thought I'd be divorced."
"Well, we can't always predict what life has in store for us. Have you dated? Gone out at all?"
Did sex with Bettina count? "No."
"Ty, I'm going to make a very bold suggestion. Go on a date, get laid! You've been divorced for nearly four months. Maybe it's time to get your feet wet and remind yourself that not all women are like Rhea."
"With who?"
"Don't you know any single women?"
"No, not really. My wife...my ex-wife said I was a terrible husband and a lousy lay. That doesn't really leave a man feeling sociable." Despite the fact he'd given her anything and everything she'd ever asked for and demanded nothing in return. He circled around the desk and sat back down. "I'm sure Momma knows some girls from church, but you ever get that creepy feeling you're being watched? That's how I feel when I go into town for anything. Even the old men playing checkers at the feed store snicker at me! And the dancehall, I feel like everyone's waiting...A man's got his pride, doc!"
"Who says you have to go out with a woman from Bluebonnet? You have all of San Antonio and South Central Texas to pick and choose from. Or better yet, sleep with a woman from Bluebonnet just to set the tongues to waggin' in another direction," she added with a conspiratorial grin. "Ty, you've got to realize in the grand scheme of things, what the folks of Bluebonnet, Texas think of you doesn't matter."
Yeah right. Tell that to his mother who switched grocery stores after shopping at the same one forever. "Alright, fine. But what if I am a bad lay?" He felt a twinge of shock at his own boldness, but hell, that's what he paid her for. What if Rhea was right?
'Bettina didn't complain,' a little voice whispered. It wasn't like he could ask Betti if he was good in bed. Could he? Betti didn't hang around Bluebonnet. Wanted the hell out of Bluebonnet. And had only had sex with him because of Tim, so he wasn't sure it counted.
"I mean, how do I know I'm not bad in bed?"
Dr. Ritter smiled at him as if he were a child. "Ty, do you think you're the only man who's ever worried about that? All men worry about their performance. It's the equivalent of women worrying about the size of their behind."
"Dr. Ritter," a disjoined voice said.
"Times up, Phyllis?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"We'll be right out," she said, standing. "Consider it, Ty. A lover or just some sweet thing to spend time with. I'll see you next week."
"See you, doc." Ty stood also, shrugging on his jacket, his anxiety over Betti returned full force. He'd have to try and call her again once he reached the truck.
He confirmed next week's appointment, took the elevator downstairs and exited the hospital annex into the late morning chill.
Back in the truck, he sat on the edge of the seat with the door swung wide open, ticking off the rings. Looking up, he briefly wondered whether Dr. Ritter could see him from ten floors up.
"It's a great day at The Blue Moon!" a cheerful voice sang out, startling him.
Blue Moon? "Is Bettina there?" he barked. Then forced himself to pull it together.
"She's with a customer. May I take a message?"
"Tell her it's...never mind. Where ya'll at?"
"Come again?" Cheerful asked.
"Where are ya'll at?" He enunciated each word.
"We're on Wurzbach, sir. Right off of I-10."
That was right on his way home. "Fine. I'll just come by."
"But sir--"
Hanging up on Cheerful, Ty headed for The Blue Moon while trying to figure out what the hell The Blue Moon was.
And what the hell he was supposed to say to Bettina? What if she was pregnant with his baby? A child was something Rhea had never wanted, so he'd never dreamed--but if Bettina were pregnant, he'd happily do the right thing. His dad would expect nothing less, and neither would he. It's just how he was raised. And besides that was his flesh and blood. Maybe.
He parked in the nearly full lot, killed the engine and sat frowning at his trembling hands. He'd be fine. He could do this. Ty slowly counted to ten, climbed out of the truck, and headed for the entrance. It didn't hit him until he reached the doors that his was the only pickup in the lot except for a couple of high-end SUV's, and those weren't really trucks anyway. Breathing deeply, he pulled the door open to discover a hair salon.
A very fancy hair salon.
Ty had been getting his hair cut by the same ancient barber in downtown Bluebonnet since he was old enough for haircuts. So entering The Blue Moon was like stepping into another world. He felt like Richard Dean Anderson in that sci-fi series, "Stargate", and his mouth hung open a bit as he took it all in.
Framed posters of women with impossible hairdos hung on walls painted pale turquoise and trimmed in a blue so dark it looked black. The smell of chemicals was unmistakable but not overwhelming. The blue and green floor looked like the bottom of a fish tank. Two dark blue velvet couches and half a dozen chairs were scattered in the waiting room and music played. It sounded like...whales.
"Can I help you, sir?" the girl behind the tall curved desk asked. Cheerful herself.
"I called...I wanna see Bettina." Breathe. Ty fought the urge to stare.
"I'm sorry, sir. She's with a customer." Cheerful shook her blonde, pink and lavender head. How she managed to blend in with the watery looking color scheme, he had no clue.
"I don't care! I wanna talk to her now!"
The petite rainbow before him looked him over, making him glad she couldn't see how he'd curled his trembling hands into fists.
"Please calm down, sir. I'll be right back." Her tone was cool but amber eyes looked worried.
He watched her head down the hall, then followed, his boots clicking lightly on the marble floor.
"... Can you make him an appointment, Tara?"
"I don't think he wants a haircut," she hissed.
Ty caught up in time to hear the last of their conversation. "She's right. I don't." Poor Tara practically jumped out of her skin.
Up and down the hall, doors opened and closed as other stylists peeked out to see what was going on. He ignored them.
"Ty?" came a voice from inside the room. Tara still blocked her from view but he'd recognize that silky drawl anywhere. He knew how she purred too.
"I wanna talk to you, Bettina!" He tried to keep his voice firm and silently cursed the slight tremor that slipped through. But he got her attention. She stepped out of the room, a comb and pair of scissors in her hands. Her nails were a light purple color.
"Tara, go on." Dressed in a pale blue top and tight black legging things, Bettina didn't look pregnant. She looked tired. She looked good.
"Police?" Tara whispered from a few steps away.
He crossed his arms and kept his jaw locked, then swallowed, suddenly unsuccessful at pushing the night they'd spent together to the back of his mind. Since that was the reason for his visit.
"No, Tara. Just leave us be." Bettina shooed her off. "Dr. Hamerstein, I'll be right back."
He heard a man's murmured reply before she closed the door behind her with a snap and looked him up and down. Her cool attitude had him worried. What if she lied or told him to get lost? Their last meeting had been a disaster.
"This way." She led him around the corner and opened a door.
Hell! What if he got her fired? He should have gone to her house, instead.
"Is it okay if I'm in here?" He stepped around her and into the office. What if his need for answers cost her her job? Not that his yelling might not have done the trick.
She smiled, and with it, the fist gripping his heart ease up just a bit.
"It's fine, Ty. Gimme five or ten minutes to finish up and I'll be back. There's drinks in the 'fridge."
After she closed the door, he got a Dr. Pepper and popped the can open, looking around at the blue walls, the tidy oversized desk and thick blue carpet. As cushy as Dr. Ritter's office.
The salon's office was just as plush as the rest of the place. Colorful and tasteful were the two words that came to mind. Whoever had decorated the place had better taste than his ex-wife. He shuddered, thinking of the money he'd been tucking away to replace or dye the white carpet in his own house.
Which brought him full circle to thoughts of Rhea. His heart picked up speed again. He sank into a couch comfortable enough to nap on, leaned back and slowly counted to ten, refusing to give in to the panic attack that nudged him. His heart slowed, but his palms were still sweaty. He lightly grasped the cola can with both hands, then yanked a tissue from a box on the table to dry them with.
Bottle of water in hand, Bettina returned, closing the door behind her, and plopped down next to him.
"What's up?" She looked exhausted, and it wasn't even noon. Ty eyed the curve of her belly, trying to decide if the slight rounding was natural or from a baby. She kicked off her clunky heels and looked up at him.
Ty's nerves returned full force and he struggled not to crush the can between his hands. He turned to study her, and hard on the heels of his worry came more memories of their night together.
Her lively green eyes searched his face in return. He wanted to lean over and brush his lips against her full pink ones. Find out if they were as soft as he remembered. The words "Are you pregnant," seemed stuck somewhere near his Adam's apple. Instead he blurted out, "Did you hit Rhea?"
"Is that why you came here making a scene and scaring poor Tara to death?" she demanded with a frown. Even her curls seemed to quiver with anger. "Because I hit your ex-wife? If so, I'm not apologizing and I'm not gonna play these bullshit games, Ty! Did you cut my grass?!"
He'd regretted his harsh tone the minute the words left his mouth. And now she was angry at him. "No."
"No?" That quieted her down but didn't remove the frown from her face.
"No...Yes! I mean, yes to the grass. No, Rhea isn't the reason I'm here." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Jessa saw you yesterday." That was the best he could do.
The anger and confusion disappeared, taking the frown lines between her eyebrows with it. Her face had become smooth and calm. "I was wondering if she'd recognize-"
"So it's true? You're-"
"Pregnant." Her eyes softened but never strayed from his, and her chin rose just the tiniest bit. "Yes, Ty. I am."
Ty turned away, unable to meet her almost defiant gaze while he asked the toughest question of all. Instead he kept his eyes focused on the surface of the coffee table. "I-is, um. Is it...mine?"
After what seemed like the longest, quietest year of his life she sighed.
"I don't need your help, Ty. Or your money. I have health insurance--"
"I wasn't gonna offer you any. I mean, ah hell. Shit!" The bottom fell out of his stomach as he turned to face her. Now I really sound like a lowlife.
"You're not taking my baby! I don't give a damn if you are a Boudreaux and I'm just Bad Betti!"
Jesus he was battin' a thousand here.
"Where the hell...I would never...were you even planning to tell me?" He couldn't seem to keep up. Her train of thought hopped around more than a bumble bee in springtime.
"Of course! I was gonna try to call you this weekend, or something, but we didn't exactly part on good terms. I hated just calling you up and saying 'Guess what? I'm pregnant! Oh happy day!' And then you come in here..." Bettina's face crumpled as she sank against the couch cushions.
He had brushed her off back in July. He felt like a heel all over again. Ty leaned back and pulled her against him. She sniffled and relaxed with a heavy sigh. "I would ne-never take our baby..."
She struggled out of his arms and scowled at him. "Then why are you here?" Bettina wasn't Rhea, but she was definitely all new territory. Prickly territory.
He reached for her again, then pulled away at the stern expression on her face. "Marry me!"