Previously in the novel: West Texan Harley Sadler has lost his daughter, his tent show and his fortune but he remains oblivious to offers to bribe him in the Legislature.
The lights were off in the Sadlers’ apartment in Sweetwater. Billie slept on the living room couch, a bottle slowly slipping from one hand. Harley came in the front door with his suitcase. The water conservation meeting took longer than he thought. He turned on the light.
“Billie? Why are the lights off?”
When he saw her asleep on the couch, the air went out of him. “Oh.”
She sat up, startled. “Harley, I thought you weren’t coming home until—“
“You know I was coming in today,” he cut her off brusquely. “You were expecting me earlier not later.”
“Why, I thought it was tomorrow. Honest.” Billie tried to slip the bottle behind a pillow.
“There’s no need to hide the bottle,” he announced coldly. “I already saw it.”
“It’s the toothache I have.” Her hand went to her cheek. “The whiskey relieves the pain.”
Harley grabbed the bottle. “So that’s your new excuse. Toothache.”
“But it’s true,” she whined. “My mouth is killing me!”
“And your drinking is killing me.” Harley threw the bottle into the wastebasket.
“Be quiet,” she chided. “The neighbors will hear!
“You don’t think the neighbors already know that you drink?” His voice weakened almost to tears.
“You told them,” she accused him, wagging her finger.
“I told them? Harley laughed with exasperation. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Billie stood and grabbed his arm. “You can’t take it?” Her eyes narrowed, and her tone was ice cold. “What about me? I—I can’t go on supporting us!”
“I work!” Harley pulled away in indignation.
“The Legislature pays nothing!” Spittle sprayed from her mouth. “You lost all our money on oil! You give your talent away to any two-bit benefit that comes along!”
He looked down. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about wildcatting anymore,” he muttered.
“Well, if you can talk about my drinking I can talk about your oil.” She pulled back, retreating from her anger.
Harley sighed as though the last of his energy drained from his body. “I’m too tired for this.”
“I don’t care how tired you are.” Tears clouded her eyes. “You always tear me down for drinking but you never ask why.”
“I know why you drink.” His mind went to that day in the hospital when Gloria died.
Wrinkling her brow, Billie proceeded as though in confession. “I was doing real good, two whole weeks without a drink. Guess who came into the store? Louise Bright. That little girl who thought I was the queen of the theatre. Well now, she’s all grown up and feels sorry for this old—old washed up woman and tells me to keep the change. Can you imagine that? She told me to keep the change.”
“It isn’t Louise or any of the other excuses you’ve used over the years. The real reason is—“
“No!” she interrupted.
“Gloria.” His voice was incisive and final.
“No!” She paused to gather her courage. “It isn’t Gloria. “Taking a deep breath. Billie whispered, “It’s you.”
Harley shook his head. “You can’t blame me.”
“You—you never belonged to me,” she continued quickly before she lost her nerve. “It was the Legislature. It was the oil. It was the show. But it was never me.”
Harley’s back straightened. He turned to the book shelf to get his well-worn copy of the King James version of the Bible. “My Bible. Where’s my Bible?” He grabbed it from the shelf and thumbed through it. “There’s got to be something….” His voice trailed off.
“You always turn to the Bible. That book isn’t going to make your pain go away any more than bottle—“ Billie almost choked on her revelation—“will make my pain go away.”
Harley fidgeted with the Bible but then slammed it shut and threw it near Billie who fell in terror.
“Don’t hit me!” She dissolved into tears.
Harley knelt by her and gently put his arms around her quivering shoulders. “I wouldn’t hit you. I love you.”
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she admitted with remorse.
“No, you’re right. I haven’t helped you much. Your drinking scared me. I didn’t know what to do. You needed a stronger man.”
She melded into his arms. “Oh no, Harley. I couldn’t have lived, wouldn’t have lived without you. Just—just help me. I can’t fight it by myself.”
“I’ll help.” He held her tight.
“I never should have said the Bible was the same as the bottle. I hope God can forgive me for that.”
He smiled. “I’m sure He will.”
“Harley.” Billie paused to sniff. “What are we going to do?”
“The same thing Job did, honey. Just keep on loving and keep on living.”