Ships That Don't Come In

Carla had always been jealous of Jenny James.

Jenny with her money. Jenny with her flawlessly polished nails. Jenny with her perfectly straightened teeth. Jenny with her bottle-blond hair. Jenny, who was perennially picked for the cheer squad. Jenny the most popular girl at school. Jenny who had dated perfect Ty Conner since their freshman year. Jenny who married perfect Ty Conner.

Jenny who now sat on her sofa staring into space. Jenny in shock. Jenny covered in blood.

Now, many years later, in light of the events of the night, Carla felt sorry for Jenny.

Miranda, Texas is nestled in an area where the high plains meet the piney woods meet the hill country. Many of the classmates that Jenny and Carla shared left town right after high school graduation. Those who felt ties to the town or had been groomed since birth to take over the family business stayed. Those who left had bigger dreams and desperately wished to escape the prying eyes and the inevitable gossip that followed any transgression, real or imagined. It was idyllic as small towns go. Built in the late 1800's, the location had been chosen for its proximity to the Trinity River and the railroad. Perfect for a farming town. There were still many of the original buildings intact and some crumbling ruins. The town used these historical spots as a way to draw tourists off the main highway. It was a proud tradition to keep history alive. To the outsider, Miranda looked like a sweet, quiet place. But the town hid its tarnish and rust well.

Jenny and Ty had been married for twelve years. Everyone had expected the golden couple to tie the knot right out of high school and the couple accepted that this was the expectations of the townsfolk. Everyone turned out for the nuptials. The star quarterback and the head cheer leader would add a nice jewel to the town's tarnished crown.

Nearing their thirtieth birthdays and thirteenth wedding anniversary, a celebration was set to take place at the homecoming football game. It would be ideal. Under the Friday night lights, in front of the despised rival Shelton Wasps, attendance would be standing room only. Miranda fans felt satisfaction that they could wave their shining couple in front of Shelton's fans, not that the Wasp fans gave a rip. The town as a whole was pulling out all the stops. It was to be a perfect night.



The evening before homecoming, the eve of their thirteenth anniversary, the Conners had a parting of ways.

Carla stood near where Jenny sat looking over the scene. Ty lay on his right side in a fetal position covered by more than fifty stab wounds. His life had been long over by the time Carla or any other first responders had arrived. From blood clotting and other forensic clues, Jenny had sat for hours watching Ty bleed out before making the 911 call.
Jenny had unlocked the front door so police and medical personnel could enter the house. When they arrived, she was right where she was now, sitting on the couch and staring off into space and covered in her husband's blood. Her face was a dark map of bruises. More bruises covered her throat. There were marks on her arms, some older than others.

Carla had suspected for quite some time that all was not well in the Connor house hold. Her training as a police officer and instincts as a woman told her something was very wrong between the golden couple. Long sleeved, high collared shirts, even in the warm summer months were a typical sign. An occasional limp, Jenny holding her ribs, frequent trips to the emergency room were all symptoms of abuse. Jenny had made the usual excuses of falling or being clumsy. Carla had brought it up to the chief repeatedly only to be told to keep her mouth shut and mind her own business. Wasn't she supposed to protect? Wasn't that word written on the side of her squad car? The entire town turned a blind eye, some pretending nothing was happening, some not wanting to see. No one wanted to acknowledge the tarnish building on their trophy couple.


Carla sat next to the fallen cheerleader. Jenny's hands were cuffed behind her back. She stared into the distance with a dead look.

"Jenny? How are you holding up?" Carla asked.

Turning glassy eyes toward Carla, eyes filled with shock and pain, Jenny replied, "I don't know. I know I should be feeling something but I don't. Maybe free. Even if I end up on death row, that son of a bitch will never touch me again." She looked away. Not once did she even glance at her dead husband.

"Jenny, there are extenuating circumstances here. You could get a lighter sentence, perhaps even have no charges filed. He has been abusing you. The District Attorney may see it as justifiable homicide."

"Why are you even speaking to me, Carla Buford? You never liked me."

"We're not in high school anymore, Jenny. Look, I've had special training in domestic abuse cases. I could speak to the District Attorney on your behalf. No woman deserves to be abused."

Jenny looked at Carla for a moment, mild surprise in her dead eyes, then turned away. A uniformed officer stepped forward, to lead the newly minted widow to the car that would take her to jail.


As they stepped from the front door onto the front porch, a throng of people waited. A handful were from the local news channels and paper. The majority were townspeople-- curiousity seekers that wanted a gander at the fallen former cheer captain. Scanner hounds, those who listened to their police scanners religiously, were the first to know trouble was brewing at the Connor place. As they chased down the call, they were furiously working their cell phones to make sure every soul in town knew what was going on.

As Jenny was led through the mob, many stood in shocked silence. While the occasional murder did happen, it was never supposed to be like this. What would they do for homecoming now? Their crown jewels were broken.

Reporters called out a few questions, none of which Jenny even acknowledged. As the events began to sink in, some people began to wail in grief, although whether for the loss of life or the loss of the image of Miranda, no one was quite sure. Others began chants of "murderer"! The blood soaked woman looked straight ahead, never letting on that she knew the many people around her existed.



The Saturday after the high school homecoming football game, and a loss to the Shelton Wasps, Ty Connor was laid to rest. He was given a hero's funeral complete with the high school band playing the school song, fight song, and Amazing Grace. Everyone turned out. Old women dressed in their Sunday finest, the high school football team in their jerseys. Murmurs trickled throughout the crowd about poor Ty and how that awful woman had killed him in cold blood. Never mind that he was six four and muscular and that Jenny was barely over five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet. As they saw it, a local hero's life was cut short by a conniving bitch of a woman.

Carla stood toward the back of the crowd. She wasn't there to mourn the loss of perfect Ty Connor, or even to honor his memory. She had no use for a man who abused his wife. She was merely crowd control. She listened to the mutinous whispers around her and mused on the ironies of life. She had dreamed of being Ty's girl since she first laid eyes on him in first grade. By junior high, she was praying every night that he would look at her, notice her. Then Jenny came along and all of Carla's hopes of being with Ty vanished.

Carla had waited for the ship that was Ty Connor to find its way to her shores, yet he passed her by in favor of Jenny. Carla was grateful, in this case anyway, that her prayers hadn't been answered and that particular ship didn't come in.