She was standing in front of the sink in the little kitchen of the drive-in, lost in her thoughts, when Paco, the young Mexican cook, came up behind her and said, “¿Que pasa, Josita? You have that look een your eye.”
She liked Paco. He was in his late twenties, a slim, dark-eyed man with a ready grin and a flip joke when pressure built up and everyone was tense.
“Who ees he?”
Josephine smiled. “Nobody, Paco.”
“Bueno. Because there are seex hungry cars goin’ crazy out there. Vamos!”
He telephoned the next morning, and Josephine knew who it was before she lifted the receiver. She had not been able to get him out of her mind all night. It was as though this call was the extension of her dream.
His first words were, “You’re a cliché. While I was away, you’ve grown up and become a beauty,” and she could have died of happiness.
He took her out to dinner that evening. Josephine had been prepared for some out-of-the-way little restaurant where David would not be likely to run into any of his friends. Instead they went to his club, where everyone stopped by their table to say hello. David was not only unashamed to be seen with Josephine, he seemed proud of her. And she loved him for it and for a hundred other reasons. The look of him, his gentleness and understanding, the sheer joy of being with him. She had never known that anyone as wonderful as David Kenyon could exist.
Each day, after Josephine finished work, they were together. Josephine had had to fight men off from the time she was fourteen, for there was a sexuality about her that was a challenge. Men were always pawing and grabbing at her, trying to squeeze her breasts or shove their hands up her skirt, thinking that that was the way to excite her, not knowing how much it repelled her.
David Kenyon was different. He would occasionally put his arm around her or touch her casually, and Josephine’s whole body would respond. She had never felt this way about anyone before. On the days when she did not see David, she could think of nothing else.
She faced the fact that she was in love with him. As the weeks went by, and they spent more and more time together, Josephine realized that the miracle had happened. David was in love with her.
He discussed his problems with her, and his difficulties with his family. “Mother wants me to take over the businesses,” David told her, “but I’m not sure that’s how I want to spend the rest of my life.”
The Kenyon interests included, besides oil wells and refineries, one of the largest cattle ranches in the Southwest, a chain of hotels, some banks and a large insurance company.
“Can’t you just tell her no, David?”
David sighed. “You don’t know my mother.”
Josephine had met David’s mother. She was a tiny woman (it seemed impossible that David had come out of that stick figure) who had borne three children. She had been very ill during and after each pregnancy and had had a heart attack following the third delivery. Over the years she repeatedly described her suffering to her children, who grew up with the belief that their mother had deliberately risked death in order to give each of them life. It gave her a powerful hold on her family, which she wielded unsparingly.
“I want to live my own life,” David told Josephine, “but I can’t do anything to hurt Mother. The truth is—Doc Young doesn’t think she’s going to be with us much longer.”
One evening, Josephine told David about her dreams of going to Hollywood and becoming a star. He looked at her and said, quietly, “I won’t let you go.” She could feel her heart beating wildly. Each time they were together, the feeling of intimacy between them grew stronger. Josephine’s background did not mean a damn to David. He did not have an ounce of snobbery in him. It made the incident at the drive-in one night that much more shocking.
It was closing time, and David was parked in his car, waiting for her. Josephine was in the small kitchen with Paco, hurriedly putting away the last of the trays.