Surrendered Hearts!

The state highway started its scenic curve around the ski basin, its waters calm and reflecting the blue of a Texas sky. Brenda Scott slowed her SUV, an action not dictated by the approach to the Davenport business district or any speed limits. As she rolled down her window on the driver’s side, she caught the tangy scent of Gulf air. A gull’s cry sounded mixing with the rhythmic noise of the highway traffic. Her hands gripped the car’s steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. At the split in the road, Brenda took the business route rather than the usual bypass around downtown district. She parked her car in the first available space along the main street and remained behind the wheel for a long moment just staring at the sights that had changed so little in seven years. A scraggly young man strolled along the sidewalk, sending a curious glance inside the car, an action that prodded Brenda into awareness of just how long she had sat, unmoving. This was not the time or place to be attracting attention! Brenda extracted the key from the ignition glanced through her side mirror for oncoming traffic and then climbed out of her car not bothering to lock it. The oncoming car was at a very safe distance, she jaywalked across the road onto the other side of the street. The click-click of her backless heels on the pavement echoed behind her loudly, making some of the people on the streets with supernatural hearing turn to check her out. The rest carried on with their business as usual except the few alerted by her presence. As she walked, an uneasy crept on her making her feel as though she was being followed. She paused to look back but it was only the past and its memories. Brenda paused and released a shaky sigh of relief. She paused for a moment once on the other side of the street, took a corner and then moved slowly towards the small harbour. Her white designer jeans showed off the length of her long legs and the titillating curve of her hips. She had worn a garnet red, short-sleeved velour top that was less revealing of her figure, only hinting at her full breasts. A cat-calling whistle racked through her sensitive hearing but she was already used to the effect her beauty had on men. She walked on oblivious of the looks she was getting each step of the way but she was only focused on her destination. A quick sweep had indicated she was safe for now though a heightened sense of doom followed her. Her senses were soon calmed down by the salty breath of the Gulf that moved familiarly over her as if in rediscovery. There was almost a caressing quality to it as it tangled itself in the amber length of her hair, whispering over her face softly. Inwardly, Brenda struggled against the sensation while her smooth features remained expressionless, determined not to reveal the brittle tension within, but a troubled darkness, uncertainty and apprehension clouded her indigo eyes. When she neared the small harbour, the freshness of the salt air became tainted with a pungent fishy smell. Most of it was caused by the short row of bait shops though some of it drifted from the shrimp boats at the docks. Brenda wandered close to them, drawn by an invisible force. A brown pelican was perched on the bow of one of the shrimp boats but she was too distracted to notice it or the screeching gulls overhead. The long arms were uprated, holding the shrimp nets at sea, a certain starless to their line. Brenda’s mind flashed back seven years ago when boats such as these were gaily festooned with decorations for the annual blessing of the shrimp fleet. It was part of the ‘Shimporee’ celebration in the community. Those July days had been such fun filled times that summer, dominated by reckless, devil-may-care attitude. When a girl is seventeen, its so easy to forget there’s a tomorrow! She turned sharply, away from the shrimp boats, wanting to shut out from her mind what had come after the celebrations. She had spent seven years shutting it out – so what was she doing here? Brenda refused to acknowledge the question. Instinct was a primal thing that dictated its own course of action. It was a gesture of inner tension that lifted her hand to push the hair off her cheek as she circled to the front of the bait shops that also booked charter fishing excursions. She absently read their signboards, absorbing none of their words. The late morning sun was warm in the subtropical climate of Texas Gulf Coast, even though it was November. “Could I interest you in a charter, miss?” a man’s voice drawled to her left. “We’ve had some real good luck lately deep sea fishing.” A middle-aged man with a thickening waistline leaned on an elbow on the jutting edge of an exterior counter a few paces ahead of Brenda. A dingy white captain’s hat was perched atop his silvering dark hair and his navy blue windbreaker was unzipped. His benign features had a weathered look from years of sun and sea. The inquiry was more out of curiosity than a friendly overture to start a conversation and hawk his ware. Brenda responded, accepting the distraction conversation offered. “Not this time sir, am afraid.” She half-smiled and idled in front of the bait stand. “It certainly is a beautiful day for it though,” she said with a glance at the clear sky overhead. “Couldn’t be better,” he agreed, then eyed her with a mildly inquisitive look. “Don’t you live around here or are you on holiday?” A wariness claimed her even though Brenda knew already the man was a prying. “On holiday,” she admitted and quickly added, “just passing through on my way to Corpus Christi and on down the valley. She was unnecessarily forceful about the clarification of her plans, stating them firmly to give him a clue of who she really was if he suspected at all and to remind herself. “You might want to take a look around this area before driving all that way. It has a lot to offer,..” he insisted in praise of his community. If he suspected of her identity, he gave no indication at all. Either he was really good at hiding what was going on in his mind or chances were he had forgotten all about her. After all, she had really changed. “...and it’s not so crowded. ‘course in a couple of weeks, the ‘snowbirds’ will be flocking in all up and down the coast.” After a slight pause, he explained, “‘snowbirds’ is the name we give to all the folks who come south to spend the winter.” Her smile was stiff. “I’ve heard the term before.” She didn’t give him a chance to ask how she knew it and hurried on to elaborate her plans. “Once I reach Brownsville, I thought I’d cross the border into Mexico and do some shopping. I’ve been told a person can find a lot of bargains there.” “And that’s something no woman can resist.” The man smiled broadly. “I guess not,” Brenda admitted, not caring that she was perpetuating a myth about her gender. She suddenly had no desire to continue the conversation, not getting anything from him. She took an initial step to move away. “I’d better be on my way.” “Have a safe trip.” The too friendly fishing boat captain made no attempt to detain her, lifting a hand in half salute. He was probably feeling stonewalled as she was. “Thanks.” Her reply was almost as absent as she turned away and began retracing her steps to her unlocked, parked car. While she waited at curb for the oncoming traffic to go by, her heart skipped a beat and then did a free fall all the way to the pit of her stomach. The oncoming car was very familiar, she felt like a deer held in place by headlights, too afraid to move but every instinct within her screaming for her to move before it was too late. Adrenaline kicked in making her move but several things happened simultaneously. The car made a screeching halt, missing her by inches, the horns blaring loud enough to wake the dead, while at the same time someone grabbed her roughly from behind and before she could turn to see who it was, a scream tore through the busy traffic hum. She did not know whether she was the one who had screamed or someone else.