Title:  A Case of Murder

Author:  Bluebirds_sings  (Tina)

Genre:  AU/AU

Pairing:  Jack/Ennis

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback: yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel to my writing :-)

Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor.  He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Index:

1.        ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/4181.html

2.        A SPARKLING FIRE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/6359.html

3.        THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/9150.html

4.        CRUSHING A BUG   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10635.html

5.        A PUZZLING GUEST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11853.html

6.        NOISES IN THE DARKENESS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/13789.html

7.        RANDALL MALONE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14533.html

8.        OVERCOMING DOUBTS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15224.html

9.        ON THE WINGS OF A KISS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15801.html

10.    PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16215.html

11.    UNWELCOMED  DUTY   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17656.html

12.    A BRUISE AND A BUTTON   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18224.html

13.    JOHN TWIST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19058.html

14.    A HARD TRUTH  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20326.html

15.    WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/21303.html

16.    THE DAY OF THE TRIAL  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/23774.html

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Chapter SEVENTEEN

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

PART ONE: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/24803.html

Chapter SEVENTEEN

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

PART ONE

The place used to feel comfortable to Jack.  Fine ornaments, blue china, silver candelabra, antique furniture, old master’s paintings and colorful lithography, all used to speak to him of a good job and an unruffled life.  It had been a long trip since he’d shrugged off his father’s callousness but Jack had finally gained the contentment he wished for.  Still, his art shop wasn’t feeling like home anymore, nor could Jack reckon that he was going to be happy here ever again.  In fact, he was wondering if he was ever going to be happy again at all. 

What am I supposed to do now?  Angst was rising in the back of his throat, memories of Ennis threatening to choke him.

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback:  yes, please!  Comments are the fuel to my writing :)

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

A Blazing Fire

Entry number 38 in my series:

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts)

A.N.: Don’t forget to enlarge both Torry’s lovely drawings.  They’ve been great inspiration for this entry. :)

A Blazing Fire

The early morning sun was barely warming the crisp late September air when Ennis pulled up in his rusty pick-up in front of Alma’s place, feeling contentment for the very first time since he’d been in Riverton. 

Written as a “just for fun” entry for the July week 2 contest at brigits_flame.

Feedback: yes please.  I'd like to know what you think.

The topic was:

trash

A gust of chilly air blew wildly down the dusty road. 

It was too cold out to be dressed only in a tiny blouse and worn out shorts, as the night tasted of winter already.   Achieng considered walking around a bit.  Maybe get a few steps away from the gas station, but dismissed the idea immediately.  She badly needed the cash that would come along with her next client.  She tightened her grip over her tiny purse instead. 

A car slowed down and angry eyes scrutinized her, lingered on her as reflected in the rear-view mirror. 

Vaca, the driver hissed increasing his speed again. 

Achieng shrugged her fear away - almost. 

She felt awfully exposed under the yellow light of the streetlamp, but allowed a half smile to creep slowly over her lips all the same.  It felt ironic how the name she’d been given meant that she was born under the sunshine, since all she had now was this disheartening artificial light that put her body on display and denied her soul even the enchantment of a starry night.

Another car passed by.  A white-haired man looked blankly at her from the backseat.

She felt tired.  Her calves ached and her ankles stretched over shoes whose heels were impossibly high.

A truck slammed on the brakes only to steady itself, leaving behind a stink of burnt rubber.  

A welcome change compared with the whiff of rotten garbage coming from the trash bin, she mused.

The stench was overwhelming from her spot, even if the bin was a few feet away.  A reek that was making her feel sick. 

It, in concert with the soon-to-be-a-baby inside my womb.

She couldn’t bear to think any further to the child she hadn’t wanted but that now was growing to be part of her flesh and soul. 

Her soon-to-be-a-baby… if she got lucky, that is, and her protector didn’t find out her secret for another couple of months.  Then she could gather enough money and enough strength to make it, and run off.  Far away from this place and this life forever. 

Otherwise, this little thing that was growing inside her was doomed to be only some scrap that her boss would throw away.  Rubbish, that’d be all. 

Shivering, she let a single tear roll down her cheek.

The cold wind hit a can that tumbled out of the overflowing bin and the tin rattled loudly.  

Achieng was surprised at the noise it made.  It was jolly, and turned the intense silence into a carefree jingle.  Nor did the half-crushed debris look like a wasted piece of junk anymore.  Now it was a nice shining metal, rolling free under the moonlight, dancing in a whirl, moving faster and faster.  Leaving all Achieng’s miseries behind. 

With chilled fingers, she lightly smoothed the skin of her belly, covered only in goose bumps.

She was going to call her baby Ekundayo, she resolved.  The name meaning ‘sorrows becomes joy’ – magic that could happen.  It just needed for the humblest of things to meet the right blast of air.

Title:  A Case of Murder

Author:  Bluebirds_sings  (Tina)

Genre:  AU/AU

Pairing:  Jack/Ennis

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback: yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel of my writing :-)

Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor.  He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.

Index:

1.        ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/4181.html

2.        A SPARKLING FIRE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/6359.html

3.        THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/9150.html

4.        CRUSHING A BUG   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10635.html

5.        A PUZZLING GUEST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11853.html

6.        NOISES IN THE DARKENESS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/13789.html

7.        RANDALL MALONE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14533.html

8.        OVERCOMING DOUBTS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15224.html

9.        ON THE WINGS OF A KISS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15801.html

10.    PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16215.html

11.    UNWELCOMED  DUTY   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17656.html

12.    A BRUISE AND A BUTTON   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18224.html

13.    JOHN TWIST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19058.html

14.    A HARD TRUTH  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20326.html

15.    WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/21303.html

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Ennis Del Mar _ a detective for more than ten years, who has to solve an intricate case of murder and has a hard time seeing the forest for the trees.

Mr. Parker _ a retired professor who lived in the penthouse suite of a four story building on Colombo Street and once was a member of The Bull Rider.  He has been hammered to death in front of his house around three in the morning. 

Mrs. Bridges _ an elderly lady who seems to have heard a gate clicking in the night.

Mr. McKentzy _ that night heard a car roaring away.

Jack Twist _ who lives at n.17 Colombo Street, had been awakened by a noise and looking out the window saw a stout man in his fifties hammering the victim with gloved hands, than dropping the hammer into the bushes nearby and hurrying away.

Cassie Cartwright _ an officer at the same police district of Ennis Del Mar, dated him for a few months and now is his best friend. 

Mrs. Collins _ married to a construction engineer who got along well with Parker, used to invite him for dinner two or three times a year.  Then, about five years before, he started to turn down the dinner invitations, saying that he was planning to have a friend living with him.  A friend they never met.

Randall Malone _ the operative special agent that escorts the witness Jack Twist in his commuting, who is openly gay and frequents the Blue Bear Café, a gay friendly bar in Abbey Road.

John Twist _ left the falling down ranch he grew up on when he turned twenty for a job in town.  After having made good money selling second-hand cars and repairing their engines, he married and had his only child: Jack, with whom he doesn’t see eye to eye.  He is a member of The Bull Rider.

Richard Landon _ the friend that introduced Parker to The Bull Rider.

Lawrence Daniel Newsome _ president of The Bull Rider, owns Bronco, a winner bull, and wrote an official note to ban Parker and Landon from the club. 

Joe Aguirre _ the janitor who takes care of the building in front of the one in which Parker lived.  He called the police early the next morning to report the murder.

Chapter SIXTEEN

the day of the trial

http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/23472.html 

Chapter SIXTEEN

the day of the trial

A gust of chill wind blew through the risen collar of Ennis’ raincoat as he took the last few steps toward the Court. 

The early December sun wasn’t providing him with much warmth.  The bright memories that he conjured, that were circling endlessly around in his mind weren’t helping in warming him either. 

The events of the last two months were marred by several unanswered questions about what really happened the night of the murder, but the ones that mattered the most to Ennis were those revolving around Jack.  The fact that these ones were going to remain unanswered haunted him deeply.

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback:  yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel to my writing :)

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Entry number 36 in my series. 

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts). 

A.N.: Don’t forget to enlarge Torry’s lovely drawing.  It has been great inspiration for this entry. :)

Matthew’s Ranch

Ennis had been in Riverton for two weeks and it was difficult even to breathe without Jack.  But he couldn’t abandon his little girls.

Matthew, the aged foreman who ran a ranch just out of Riverton, had hired him for a while.

Ennis spent his days alone, mending fences in the green sea of the prairie, his hat pulled low on his forehead, a stranger to the other hands as his thoughts and fears ran free.  He made enough to pay for his motel room, and to buy some cheap whiskey and a doll for the girls.

His lunch was little more than a bottle of beer gulped while sitting in the shade of an oak, his heart lost in yearnings.  Today was no different.  Regrets and longings followed the swirling smoke of his cigarette.  

He wondered how could he rip either Jack or his girls out of his soul. 

There was a time when his actions were driven by fear of his feelings.  On Brokeback, the blow of his fist had come hard and fast; he remembered Jack’s blue eyes full of confusion as he stared up at Ennis from the ground.

That time had gone.

As he smoked, Ennis pictured Jack’s shirt and his own hanging in the bunkhouse together.  He imagined how  it might feel to turn out the light in his baby girls’ room as they fell asleep, to come to Jack’s warm lips, waiting to fill the night with soft sounds. 

His feelings clicked like the pieces of a jigsaw snapping into place. 

Tomorrow he would spend the day with his girls.  And for once he was going to believe that hopes could defeat worries after all.

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback:  yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel to my writing :)

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Entry number 36 in my series. 

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts). 

A.N.: Don’t forget to enlarge the amazing charcoals that Torry has been so sweet to draw for this entry!

Shooting an Elk

Jack didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the bed, staring at the emptiness out of the window.

Guess so.  In his head, Ennis’ last words said over the phone replayed over and over, quivering uncertainty in his cowboys voice.

He made himself think instead of the perfect words Ennis had whispered to him before leaving.  “I’ll come back in a couple of weeks, I swear,” he’d said, his vow protected by the safe cocoon of their shirts.  But a sick feeling was now growing in the pit of his stomach, making Jack shiver.

When his phone rang he took the call with shaking hands, ready to say Ennis’ name, bracing himself to hear the words Can’t come back.

But instead, he heard Lureen’s unusually weary voice.

As she hesitantly explained how caring for Bobby left her hardly any time to spend with friends and how she surely could use some help for a change, Jack’s attention wavered at first, focused as he was on his gloomy thoughts. 

Then he smiled slowly, the elk staring out at him from Ennis’ postcard, making his heart swell with hope again.  “You just gotta be fast and pull the trigger before he runs off, bud,” Ennis had playfully replied to his cheers on Brokeback.

“Lureen, listen,” Jack said, his mind clear now.  “I’ll be there in a couple of weeks.”  After I’ve driven to Riverton and made damn sure to shoot that elk.  He swallowed hard thinking of Ennis possibly being forced to say a final goodbye to his girls. 

His skittish cowboy wasn’t going to feel good about Jack being there for him, he could bet.  But it was time to stop letting himself be jerked around by his bull's twists and turns. It was time to get off and take action. His soft smile lingered on his lips. He had a plan.  

Written as a “just for fun” entry at brigits_flame. 

Liza and Jenny started to talk to me again as soon as I read this week’s topic (it was CAESAR).  So here we have another bit of their story. 
If you want to read more about them here is the link:  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/4562.html 
No need to read that entry to (hopefully) enjoy this one though.  :)

Feedback: yes please!!!  I so love hearing from you!

Chasing the Rainbow

“No sweetie, the twins won’t come to the lake with you tomorrow.  They don’t even like swimming, just like their mother!  You should have seen her when she was six years old and her dad taught her to swim.  She was scared, and hated the cold water so much.”  Two pairs of disconsolate eyes were following their grandmother’s conversation on the phone.  Their most desired trip to the lake had been dismissed already, their wishes drowned in the flow of granny’s memories of the daughter she lost seven years before and that she never quit searching for in her grandkids’ traits.

“But we…” Liza started in protest, her words fading in front of her sister’s resigned shrug. 

“Let it be,” Jenny whispered. 

“Damn, Jenny!  Even complaining isn’t any use with her.  She’d only start to go on and on about how I’m moody and scowling like mummy was at times.  Everything comes down to mum for her.  Always,” Liza muttered.  “It seems that we don’t even exist.”

Then she added with scorn, “She’s a tyrant, tougher than our Caesar ever was.”  The last remark raised a knowing smile from Jenny, offering the siblings a thin bubble of shared feelings, like a warm and safe shelter against the stiffness of the outside world.  Jenny longed for this shelter with a vengeance, although living with their granny seemed to make it more fragile by the day.

The sisters had giggled at first, when the teacher spoke about the ancient Roman dictator after whom their father must have been called.  They immediately switched from the ordinary ‘dad’, they still used in front of him, to their father’s given name in their hush-hush chats, agreeing that he had to be doomed.  His dreary inclination to rule their lives as them were of his own was a destiny written in it, after all.  

The giggles soon turned into tears though, as their mum wasn’t there anymore to soften the edge of Caesar’s stinging remarks and hard punishments. 

The girls started wondering if it was his unending silences or his calloused and cutting demeanor they disliked the most, well aware that they had no other choice than letting him be in control of their lives, day in day out.

Until he left. 

When their granny offered to take them in, they believed they’d found the shiny rainbow that could easily be climbed to get to unrestricted freedom and unreserved love.

But their grandmother’s lingering chatter about all the ways in which they took after her daughter without even having half of her qualities though, cut fast the sisters’ hopes, letting their dreams about freedom and love crumble into a grey dust where none of the sparkly colors of their imagined rainbow could be found anymore. 

Their father could have ruled their lives, but grandmother was challenging their very souls.  And this last tyranny turned out to be well more dangerous for them than the first one.  When they were grounded at their father’s pleasure, the sisters always coped with his abuses acting as a whole, gaining strength by their fight against him.  But now that they were twelve and left on their own to struggle with the fake attentions and the blurred feelings that their grandmother reserved for them, they were swallowed in the tyranny of indifference.  And lack of truthful concern parted their ways. 

Jenny came slowly to believe in the tale that her granny’s hurt feelings were telling.  Started to think she could find her rainbow lulling herself into the illusion that her mother could still live through their very lives. 

To Liza, however, the rainbow was nowhere to be found.  It was only a ghost, like the hollow smile of the Cheshire cat.  She made her own glass sliver searching the strength that was inside her though, so that it would put the rainbow in her hand.  It wouldn’t be as beautifully shaded and magnificently wide as the real one could be.  But still, it was a colorful shaft of light; enough to lead her away from tyranny, even if it would never be enough to give her perfect happiness. 

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback:  yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel to my writing :)

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Entry number 35 in my series. 

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to

Dedicated to Carole (

A.N.: Don’t forget to enlarge the stunning charcoals that Torry has been so sweet to draw specifically for this entry.  Our cowboys’ fantasies run wild!  :-)

The Siesta Motel

“Keep talking, bud,” he pleaded into the phone, his voice rasping as his rough fingers played with his own cock.  He could hear Jack fumbling with the phone across miles, his frantic panting speeding through the line.  Ennis wrapped his hands tighter around his length, stroking furiously, matching the pace of Jack’s frenzied breathing.

"En… yours…" Jack moaned and sputtered at last, his sounds pushing Ennis over the edge.

Legs still shaking, Ennis lay on the worn out blanket on the shabby bed and quietly recovered, Jack’s now unruffled breath like a lullaby in his ear.

“When are you coming back home, friend?” Jack’s voice was like a caress with an unmistakable hint of yearning as Ennis stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling of the cheap motel room.

 “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Jack,” he answered softly.  “I need to make sure I’m not losing my girls to Alma’s revenge before I’m on my way for good, though.”

“Sure… who says that she wants revenge, anyway?” Jack’s caring concern filled Ennis with enough strength to make him spill the truth.

“She thinks I cheated on her with another woman.”

Jack gasped in surprise, so Ennis added reluctantly, “I couldn’t stay and do what she wished I’d do, but she didn’t need to know the whole truth either or she’d never let me see the girls again.”

 “Yeah, suppose she might have some issues,” Jack sighed resignedly.  Then he trailed on tentatively, searching the shadowy space inside Ennis’ mind.  “Just… will you come back home even if she happens to get wind of what is really going on and cuts you out from spending time with the girls alone?”

Ennis closed his eyes for a moment.  “Guess so,” he answered, hoping for Jack’s sake that he could sound more convincing than he felt.

bmshirts

soulan

torry28

Title:  A Case of Murder

Author:  Bluebirds_sings  (Tina)

Genre:  AU/AU

Pairing:  Jack/Ennis

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback: yes, please!  Your comments are the fuel of my writing :-)

Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor.  He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.

Index:

1. ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/4181.html
2. A SPARKLING FIRE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/6359.html
3. THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/9150.html
4. CRUSHING A BUG   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10635.html
5. A PUZZLING GUEST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11853.html
6. NOISES IN THE DARKENESS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/13789.html
7. RANDALL MALONE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14533.html
8. OVERCOMING DOUBTS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15224.html
9. ON THE WINGS OF A KISS   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15801.html
10. PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16215.html
11. UNWELCOMED  DUTY   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17656.html
12. A BRUISE AND A BUTTON   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18224.html
13. JOHN TWIST   http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19058.html
14. A HARD TRUTH  http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20326.html

Chapter fifteen

What a difference a day makes

Jack looked out his shop’s window, his gaze drawn to the blur of people rushing by.  All the commotion that he used to see as pointless felt reassuring today, as if it could be a safe cocoon against the ambush of the man whose identity he still didn’t know, and most of all an assurance that life was going on as usual.  Morning had drifted to afternoon, and was now giving place to evening.  Even the rhythmic shifting of the neon light that had him wincing in annoyance every time he looked at the bookstore across the street now felt lulling, like a welcome sign that time was flowing and bringing him closer to meeting with Ennis again.  

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Entry number 34 in my series. 

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts). 

settling on a divorce 

… what a real man should like best.  Alma’s reproach against him stung.

“I can’t handle being a father and a husband… Is that what you’re suggesting, huh?” Ennis spat the words through gritted teeth.  In a haze, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, anger threatening to swallow him.  She wasn't going to get away with this, he was going to make sure of that.

Alma’s eyes went wide, pain mixing with the hurt that swelled inside her.

He squeezed briefly and let go.  “It’s you who’s failed to deal with our marriage and now you blame it on the long distance.  I’ll be happy to leave you alone,” he said at last, feeling the pressure slowly lessen.

She fidgeted, searching for her cigarette and struggling to make sense of the situation.

 “You’ve never been there for us, Ennis.  And don't try to fool me, I know what it means.”  

Unwanted memories crowded Ennis’ mind.  She’d been in his life, but in a way that he never desired.  Yes, he knew what it meant, too.  He didn't love her, never had. 

“What’s she got anyway, to make you walk out on me and the girls?” she asked, subdued, the cigarette unlit between her fingers.

Ennis rummaged in his shirt pocket for a match, trying to cover his surprise.  “Sure as hell I’m not ditching my baby girls, Alma,” he said, evading the question.  “I won’t ever be ready to let go of them.” And he meant it.

“Fine,” she sighed, abandoning the argument.  It was as if her mind was already beginning to wander away from distant memories of incomplete joys.

He stroked the match and stared entranced at the glittering flame, recalling the lure of a fire on the mountain and blue eyes like an enticing beacon toward home.

When I read today’s writer block topic this instantly popped up.  Hope I got the rhyme right even if this isn’t humorous by a long shot.  

Unbetaed, so please let me know all my mistakes. :)  Looking forward to your comments.

Ennis

Lungs filled with smoke,

He choked on a recalled joke.

A memory fluttered in his eyes, then it sparkled bright

Trailing hopelessly towards the starry night.

Dreams trapped between two fingers, he gave the cigarette a poke.

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Entry number 33 in my series. 

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts). 

 
Prospects

Blond hair gathered in a ponytail, to Ennis Alma looked paler than when he’d left.  Tired, most likely, from looking after by herself the family he’d sought and which satisfied his primal need for life’s continuance.

The family he owed her.  He couldn’t dismiss the thought, while watching her setting water to boil for coffee, and wondered at her gestures devoid of emotion.  Had been him to cheat her out of happiness, maybe.  Or she’d never longed for happiness at all, and the quiet acceptance of a life without hopes was the only trait they shared.

Until his heart made the leap and led him to the man who gave him happiness and never held back. 

“You’re just in time,” she said pointing at a scrap of paper lying on the table.  “They got a opening over at the power company.  Might be good pay.  And you wouldn’t need to stay away six goddamn months to bring home bucks that aren’t even enough to pay for Jenny’s drugs.” 

His resolve to go back to Lightning Flat wavered, thinking of his baby girl having an asthmatic wheeze while he couldn’t be there to kiss her pain away. 

Wavered.  But didn’t die, like an ember ready to spark again as soon as the wind blows fittingly. 

He silently drew from the back of his mind the memory of two shirts entwined and hanging on a nail, and knew he had to be strong enough to talk to her before leaving. 

Unwilling to trust Alma with his secret, he weighed his chances.

“They need me over there.  And I like ranching best,” he mumbled.

“Supporting his own kids, that’s what a real man should like best,” she hissed back, making his blood boil with anger.

Title:  A Case of Murder

Author:  Bluebirds_sings  (Tina)

Genre:  AU/AU

Pairing:  Jack/Ennis

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback: yes, please!  *makes puppy eyes*

Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor.  He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.

To make up for my delay in posting I present you with the cast of characters we already met in the story, hoping it could be of use.

CHAPTER FOURTHEEN

A HARD TRUTH

Ennis was slowly making his way down the austere police department corridor, his mind unfocused and exhausted from dragging information out of Jack’s father, and even more so by bearing the weight of the very kind of information he acquired.

Knowing that Earl Parker had been banned from the Bull Rider’s Club only because they had found out he was gay, was much too close to Ennis’ personal life to be simply annoying, it was deeply disturbing to him.  Ennis couldn’t stop thinking on Jack, couldn’t stop the sweet memories of the needy tangle of tongues and limbs that were filling all his senses.  Nor could he deny that nothing in the world meant more to him than the thing that was starting to grow between them. 

Written for the April week 3 contest at brigits_flame. 

As always, I’d love to have any kind of feedback from you! 

The topic was:

Flourish

The sound of surf had once felt soothing to me.  It felt like a lullaby that the sea hummed, escorting my boat when I sailed on a new trip. 

Since that night though, the one I never fail to remember without sorrow, I feel the rhythm of the wave upsetting.  Its steadiness looks insensitive to the inner pain that can burst unforeseen into life and turn all prospects upside down.  

They say that salty water heals wounds, but there are scars so deep that they never heal.  You can only try and learn to cope.  You need to bend as a shrub at the blowing wind if you want to move on and make a life for yourself in spite of it all.

 

That night was the last time that I sailed at dusk, leaving the dock behind and rowing with steady pace as far as I needed to reach the quiet place where Bobby and I used to anchor our boat.  I didn’t take the bait out of the tackle box.  It was no use trying.  It was Bobby who knew how to have fish biting in no time.  Bobby who had in his bones the wisdom of many generations of fishermen.  He was the one who made his business thrive, with his own special skills of night fishing.   Me, I was a simple tourist who happened to travel this island which smelled of salt and wilderness and ended up spending the four most beautiful years of my entire life.

I used to spend my days selling shells and knick-knacks to holidaymakers and follow Bobby at night on his fishing trips.  And experienced happiness so many times that I started to expect my life to disclose only bliss and joy from then on.

That night I had to reconsider. 

The hurtful time of a farewell I was never supposed to say had come.  For the first time I was alone on the boat, the very same boat that saw my feelings flourish in the rich soil of my young heart.  The numbness I was feeling allowed some memory I had carefully tucked away to appear from my then fresh past.  I saw Bobby’s twinkling green eyes dancing in the beam of the flashlight and cherished one last time our intimacy, a precious discovery I had repeated every night. 

After fastening the boat, I let seconds pass in a hopeless attempt to let the hurt flow away.  The peaceful water lapping the keel stood out against my fast heartbeat and my troubled breathing.  It was hard to picture Bobby using a rope to make a knot that no sailorman should ever need to make, even harder knowing that he was looking for the hook on the ceiling of the old depot close to the dock to put that rope to use.  It was almost impossible to acknowledge that there will never be his beaming smile in my life again, nor his hugs or his kisses.  The empty space in my heart was going to be the only one left for Bobby’s dreams to live and prosper a bit longer.  The light brush of his lips over my knuckles, his voice raw with desire whispering sweet nonsense, all to be stored in my soul from then on.  Moments that will live forever in the suspended time of memories, where every part of those precious days is still surviving, even after so many years.

I gazed absent-mindedly at the moon’s reflections over the water, the glint magnified by the unshed tears in my eyes.  Then my glance went dazedly to the paper in my hands.  Bobby’s distinctive handwriting saying farewell to me. 

Don’t ever think any of this has been your fault, my love.

I let my eyes wander unfocused toward the dark horizon.  It wasn’t my fault if the love of my life made up his mind and slipped away from this world before even being in his prime. 

It was supposed to be reassuring.  But it wasn’t.   

I can’t deny that I ended up feeling furious with him for never having told me which kind of burden dried his hopes.  Because hopes he had.  And I never got to know which dark ghost took away the wishes he wanted to make true and the aspirations he worked to take hold of.  All I knew was that everything he loved and prized was gone.  He himself had thrown away the wonderful sprout he had been, preventing it from flourishing.  And I couldn’t understand why he chose to leave all that behind.  Why he chose to leave me behind.  I could merely question the silent stars about the days to come, only to find no answer.

I hated my own inability to understand the unspoken words that must have been behind the ones he shared with me.  But most of all, I have to confess, I felt spoiled of the happiness I had reached with him.  I gripped the oars and dropped them angrily in the unconcerned sea, letting the splash echo the crash of all my plans falling through.

Without Bobby, I felt I had been left adrift.  And my blurred mind came to loathe the predictable sound of the waves rolling on the cliffs.  It was like their expected beat was playing a trick on my wobbly thoughts, promising steadiness, telling me that I had only to set things in motion if I wanted to see them grow.  This was only a bad joke that nature was playing on me.  Now I knew it, for the very first time in my life.

I said my final goodbye to the place, wrapped Bobby’s memory in my soul, and unfastened the anchor.

That night I thought it was the smell of salt, which couldn’t heal a wound that would never turn into a scar, that made me feel nauseous.

In all those years I let my gypsy heart take the lead.  I never expected again to reap what I had sown, as if it was a golden rule of nature. 

Now, when I look into my daughter’s green eyes I catch a glimpse of Bobby’s smile reflected in them.  I still believe that there is no rule that tells you in advance how a human seed can blossom.  And I guess that this is what makes it so precious.  But sometimes I sense that maybe a human seed always finds a way to grow up and show a beauty that takes your breath away.

I never make promises.  And I know that it’s hardly likely for my seventeen-year-old girl to never see her hopes broken.  But I pray for her to marvel one day in awe at the unexpected bliss that she will find inside the sprout of her own life, once it grows up following its astonishing ways.  

Genre: AU

Series: The Postcard

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Summary:  On January 1966 Ennis takes a surprising decision. He tries to reach Jack writing him a postcard and addressing it to Lightning Flat.

Index and links to the previous entries: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/12396.html

Huge thanks to Soulan for her invaluable help as beta and to Torry28 for the awesome drawings she dedicated to this story.  

A.N.  Don’t forget to enlarge the amazing charcoal that Torry has been so sweet to draw specifically for this entry. :)

I wish you all a Happy Easter and a wonderful Spring Break!

Entry number 32 in my series. 

Dedicated to Carole (bmshirts). 

Little Darlings

He silently extracted himself from Jack’s sleepy embrace.   “Time to hit the road,” he whispered, brushing his lips over Jack’s soft earlobe — reassurance for them both. 

Then he began the long drive alone, with only the flat land for company, its dullness smoothing out his agitated emotions.

***

The dying of the engine in front of the laundromat gave way instantly to the sound of Junior’s squealing. 

She ran to him before he could say a word, standing on her toes, throwing her tiny arms around his neck in a tight hug.  He scooped her up, ignoring his own tiredness as well as Alma, who was staring by the window, arms crossed over her chest.

“What’s that?” he asked, pausing to lightly touch a little scar on Junior’s chin.

“It’s the slide’s fault,” she answered without pouting, her smile reaching her eyes.  “I’m able to climb it now.  It’s harder than sliding down, did you know that, Daddy?”  Her giggle gurgled like a clear stream up on the mountain.  He nodded, but remembered what it was like to tumble down that slope -- a long, plunging fall into darkness.  Jack’s steady breath on his cheek was as strong as any iron anchor, keeping him from drifting into a life to which he felt he no longer belonged.  He swore to make sure he never lost it again. 

“Daddy!  Put me on the slide too!” Jenny yelled at the top of her not even two year old lungs, attempting to steal her father’s attention.  

“Later, darling,” he answered softly, his head spinning with the little conquests his kids had achieved while he’d been away.  A rush of guilt hit him for having always been apart from their lives, even when he stayed right there. 

He reached out and pulled Jenny into his arms, too, her light brown curls brushing his face, like a fresh breeze carrying the scent of the hay gathered behind the old house in Lightning Flat, where he wished he could bring them both one day.

Written for the April week 2 contest at brigits_flame. 

Since our given prompt this week wasn’t too distant from the former topic, my entry is kind of a sequel to my past one.  However, it is self-contained, so you haven’t to read that bit to (hopefully) enjoy this story. :)

As always, I’d love to have any kind of feedback from you!  

The topic was:

Seed

How to Grow Roses from Seed.   The title was promising.  So, while keeping the book in her right hand, Cecilia spared a hopeful glance to the soaked seeds she was holding in her other one.  

According to the handbook title, beginners were supposed to learn in easy steps how to get their shrubs to blossom, and she actually counted on the authors to be true to their words.  She needed some reassurance on small things since the most important one in her life threatened to turn into a big disappointment, if not a real failure.

Not even the promise of white roses disclosing their special grace under her fledgling care seemed enough to keep her wandering thoughts from going once more where they always rested these days.  On that silent boy, who was despondently cleaning his bike across from her, in their garden.  The quiet, hushed boy who had been like a gift to her.  An added bonus to her fresh marriage and an unexpected chance to make enduring peace with her own past. 

Being a stepmother wasn’t easy.  Cecilia knew that. 

She had learned it the hard way, when she stopped asking herself why she didn’t resemble her parents in anything, and started to wonder what it could have been like for them to choose to love her, no matter what.  For quite a few years her long-time struggle with her inner feelings seemed to have come to an end.  But then this withdrawn angel with blond locks and hazel eyes had stepped into her life.  Now, having to handle his endlessly stretched silences and his grunts behind which she never knew what could hide, she was realizing that being a stepmother could be harder than she ever supposed it to be. 

Feeling the warm sun-rays bathe her palm and the seeds in it, Cecilia heaved a sigh.

Her book said that gardening was a lesson in patience, with many failures along the way, and added that it may take several years to reap your reward.  She wished so badly that the most precious seed in her life, this ten-year-old boy who still couldn’t think of her as his mother, one day would let her reap some reward.  She wished, and had tried hard to obtain it, from the very first day.  But hopelessly gloomy times seemed to stretch forever in front of her.

Like it had last Sunday. 

She’d offered to go with her new-found child to the cemetery to bring flowers to the grave of his mother, that cancer had taken away from him three years before.  “Nope.  You don’t know nothing about her,” had been his angry remark.  As if she’d overstepped some invisible line.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  Then, seeing the boy shifting from leg to leg till he ended up staring at his toes, she added, “You know, my parents died too.  So, I was thinking…” she trailed away, hating the quiver in her own voice.

Now, absent-mindedly, she put her book on the nearby bench, grabbed a knife and started to dig into the soil.  As soon as she lifted her gaze, Cecilia noticed that the seeds in her hand had her boy’s full attention.  She smiled a shy smile, silently scolding herself for still not having cared enough about the boy’s fondness for ranch life.  Maybe this summer they could rent a cabin in the country and she could teach him to ride.  Her smile widened at the same time the boy took a few steps towards her.

The deep furrow between his eyebrows didn’t go unnoticed by Cecilia, who had grown somber. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said in a plain voice.  There wasn’t any bitterness, and she took it as a good sign. 

She kept digging, struggling to keep her voice even when she answered.  She couldn’t let her hopes show in front of him, only to see her trust die a few moments later.  This could make things uglier between them.  

A shiver surprised her.

“How come?” Cecilia asked plainly.

“These holes are too deep. You should plant the seeds only about a half inch deep into the soil,” he explained, smiling at her.  

Cecilia was taken aback.  Just when she least expected it, he had broken into a smile.  A bright one, with a soft look in his brown eyes that showed pride in a job he knew how to do, but maybe mixed with something else too.  Like the soil she was using to plant her seeds, her son’s heart could hold a lot more than a single emotion.  It could harbor pride, and acceptance, and possibly even deeper feelings.

She smiled back. 

They worked together for hours, planting, watering and then labeling the seeds.  All the while, something new seemed to be growing between them.  Something Cecilia didn’t dare to label, but that made her heart light and the silence that surrounded their efforts companionable.

Title:  A Case of Murder

Author:  Bluebirds_sings  (Tina)

Genre:  AU/AU

Pairing:  Jack/Ennis

Rating:  NC-17 

Disclaimer:  the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this

Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!

Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor.  He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOHN TWIST

Ennis glanced up from his small table and out the window of his apartment to see if the winter daybreak fog was shifting.    Looking at the misty sky made his thoughts wander once more to Jack, who he supposed was going out at the moment, walking along buildings and streets that were of a same dreary shade of grey, doing his morning commute with Randall in tow.  Heaving a frustrated sigh he resumed his digging into the stacks of paper on his table.

Written for the April week 1 contest at  brigits_flame   
As always, I’d love to have any kind of feedback from you.  Even if this is original (and not BBM-related), hope you’ll enjoy. 
The topic was:  

 

 Digging

The old rocking horse, black coat covered in dust, was the first thing she caught sight of in the crammed attic. 

She smiled at the trusting companion of her long ago plays.  Patting affectionately his muzzle with trembling hands, trying to summon some strength from her own childhood.  And strength she needed right now, wandering among a broken pendulum and a row of cases, her heart madly pounding.

The hesitant roaming was noiseless, as if she was scared of waking the past.  Still, she stumbled around an armchair out of order and a broken lamp, and here it was, the big, worn out trunk that held all answers.

She knelt in a swift motion, uncertainties forgotten in the blink of an eye.  Fears turning into eagerness as soon as the key turned, unlocking the trunk.

Feverishly, she dug into stacks of faded papers and old photographs, blindly taking all those stored memories out of the large box and letting them glide and rest haphazardly on the floor.  None of them mattered to her.  Neither the yellowed report card that she so proudly showed to her dad at the end of one of her earlier classes, nor the gray picture of her first birthday, the one that her mum kept in a frame over the bedside table for such a long time. 

Her parents…  She stopped, and gripped the edge of the large case, so tight that her knuckles turned white.  What if the birth certificate, that they surely had hidden at the bottom of this trunk, made her suspicion come true?  How different could her feelings turn after she read that document?  What about her memories of the ones that she learned to love?

She straightened and silently swept a tear running over her cheek.  It had taken her thirty-five years, and a car wreck that had ended both their lives in order to have the guts to dig into her past.  And into their secret.   But now she felt she was losing her nerve.

She staggered back and went to sit awkwardly on the rocking horse, letting his swaying lull her.

A single, long ago memory came to her mind.   She had slipped and fallen from the toy horse and her mum had scooped her in a rush and held her tight in her arms, smiling and making shushing noises.

What kind of feelings really lay behind that woman’s gaze?  She gave a jump at her own question, and stood up right away, turning back to stare at the opened case in shock.  

As for the first time, she noticed the report card and the picture, scattered over the floor.  And looked at them with new eyes. 

No matter what that piece of paper would say, the man who never made a frown at her had been a caring father to her, and that tender, hopeful woman had been the one that she could only name mother.  Distrusting and betraying their fond smiles and loving embraces would have meant nothing other than destroying the very possibility of feeling loved and alive ever again.

She knelt once more.  Slowly, this time.  Almost reverently, she took every single token between her shaky fingers, and turned it over and over again, her eyes shining with unshed tears.  Lovingly, she refilled the old trunk.