Texas fury (50 page)

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did... Forget it. I should have come home when I finished the business instead of.. .Never mind, it isn't important. What do the doctors say?" he asked grimly.

This was all wrong. Nothing was going the way she'd planned. Cary was supposed to be filled with remorse. Some kind of feeling should be showing on his face. So far, he hadn't said a kind word. Women could cover guilt so much better. She'd given him his chance, at great cost to herself, willingly and selflessly. What was she supposed to do now? Lie about her condition or tell the truth? Make it easy for him? His guilt would probably be less bearable if she told lies.

"Cary, I'm sorry. I was thinking of you. You know I would never be ashamed of you. I always worried that you would be ashamed of me. Like now. I know how I look. I also know how I feel. I understand if you can't. .. can't cope with me or my condition. But to answer your question, the doctors say I have to take it easy, get lots of rest, eat well, fresh air, that sort of thing. I'm mending. If you can forgive me, it will make the recovery process a lot easier on me."

"Amelia, I—"

"Cary, I don't want you feeling guilty. You look guilty, too, so get that look off your face. I won't have it."

Cary sat down on the bed. He took Amelia's thin hand in his own. Sorrow welled up in him. He could feel tears prick at his eyelids. "It's me, babe, who should be saying he's sorry, not you." He started slowly at first and then worked up into a fast chatter. He was pleased when Amelia giggled over some of his tales. At some point during the telling, he'd gotten under the covers. Amelia leaned into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She did her best to stay awake. Her last conscious thought before dropping off to sleep was that she'd given and Cary had taken.

Just as she planned.

Adam paced the living room. He felt old, useless, and a tad sorry for himself. Why was it he could get a bead on other people's problems and practically solve them, but he couldn't get past square one with his own?

He knew now he wasn't going to live out his life here in Texas. He belonged in the city, where something was happening every second of every day. If he stayed here, he was either going to saw off his arm with the chain saw or start the biggest

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bonfire the state of Texas ever saw with all the wood he and Jeff had cut and stacked. Busy work.

He should sell the ranch. Riley might still be interested. Everyone, for the past two years, had been speculating on the oil that might be on his property. Riley would make some kind of fair deal on the oil leases, unlike Coots Buckalew. He was going to have to give the whole thing some very serious thought.

Texas, this ranch, the people—they all reminded him too much of his youth, and Sawyer. Coming here, thinking he'd put down some roots for himself and the boy, wasn't one of his better ideas. He had to put the bullshit aside and get on with his life. But before he did that, he had two immediate problems to handle and resolve. One was Jeff; the other was Sawyer. He could call Sawyer now.

Cole picked up the phone on the third ring, holding it away from his ear when Adam barked out his question. "You want Sawyer's phone number! Why?"

"Because I'm calling her to ask her to marry me. This is her last chance. I've decided to sell this place and go back to New York. If you Colemans want to buy, ante up," Adam barked.

"You're talking to the wrong guy, Adam. I want to shake off the dust of this place as much as you do, and you know it. Riley's the one to talk to. You want to make a deal on the oil leases, right?"

"Damn right. I got a kid to put through eight years of college, and hopefully a wife and kids of my own to support."

"What brought all this on?" Cole asked curiously. Nick, he'd guess.

"I decided it was time to get on with my life instead of sitting on it. If she doesn't want me, okay. I have to know. I haven't asked her to marry me in five years. What do you think my chances are?" Adam asked fretfully.

"As good as they'll be tomorrow or the next day. Go for it; all she can say is no."

"That's my thought. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I always say."

"I always say that, too." Cole chuckled. "Give me a call and let me know what she says. If it's bad news, don't bother."

"It's a deal. Wish me luck."

"You're nuts, you know. Sawyer's okay. I love her, but she's not exactly marriage material in my opinion. You want

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to share her with Coleman Enterprises, then I say go for it."

"Thanks, Cole."

'Tor what?"

"Your blessing. That was your blessing, wasn't it?"

"Hang up, Adam."

Five minutes later, Sawyer picked up the phone.

"Will you marry me?" "

"What?"

"Will you marry me?"

"When?" Sawyer's voice squawked.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Why so long?"

"I thought you might want a church wedding with all the family." Of course, he knew she wouldn't.

"How about when I get home?"

"When's that?"

"A couple of months. Soon."

"Was that a yes? Are you shaking your head up and down?"

"Yep. What's taken you so long?"

"No guts. Will you marry me, Sawyer?"

"Yes, Adam, I'll marry you. As soon as I get home."

"Will we have lots of little Sawyers and Adams?"

"At least one Adam. Call Grand and tell her, okay?"

"Are you sure, Sawyer?"

"Jeez, I was going to ask you when I got back. I'm sure, Adam."

"I decided to sell the ranch. I'll tell Riley it's his if we can work out a deal on the oil leases. That okay with you?"

"I love you, Adam."

"You never said that to me before."

"I could never say it before because I wasn't sure. I am now. I knew when I saw you the last time."

"Okay, I'm going to hang up now and get drunk. Write me a letter."

"Okay."

"'Bye."

"Bye, Adam."

In a daze, Adam dialed Cole's number. "She said yes."

"Congratulations; or should I offer condolences?"

"Smart-ass. I'm going to get drunk as soon as Jeff goes to bed. Want to join me?"

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"I think I'll pass. Stay happy, Adam. I always said you'd make a great brother-in-law."

"I always said that, too," Adam said happily. Hell, he didn't need alcohol to feel drunk.

The cold reality of her aloneness depressed Julie. At times these past weeks, Hawaii and Cary seemed more a dream than reality. A wonderful dream.

The harshness of the blustery April wind tore into Julie as she walked up Park Avenue. She felt like crying, but knew that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop. She hiked the colorful cashmere scarf, a gift from Billie and her Uncle Thad years ago, up over her nose. What did she care how she looked? There wasn't a soul in this city she cared about.

April in New York. It should be warm now, with spring flowers on all the corner stands, and she should be wearing a light coat instead of being bundled up like an Eskimo. Sub-freezing temperatures in April in New York were almost unheard of. "Why not?" Julie muttered under the scarf. "Everything else is fouled up; why not the weather?"

The weather and her aloneness aside, she knew what really bothered her: she hadn't heard from Cary since her return from Hawaii. She'd had an uneasy feeling that something was wrong ever since she'd returned. For one thing, she hadn't heard from Billie or her Uncle Thad. It was unlike Billie not to call and ask how she'd enjoyed her vacation. Any other time she'd have wrapped up the little souvenirs she'd bought for them and mailed them off, but they were still in the ABC bag she'd carried them home in. The last time she'd looked, the bag was on a chair in a corner in the bedroom. She supposed she could have called her uncle and Billie, but she was afraid something would come through in her voice, would give her away.

The wind whipped furiously at Julie's back, driving her forward. She sped around the corner to East Seventy-ninth Street and narrowly avoided colliding with an elderly man walking a shorthaired terrier who was resisting the leash as well as the wind. Maybe that's what she needed—a dog. Animals were loyal and they loved unconditionally. She'd heard stories of animals who killed for their masters or defended them to their own death.

She and Cary hadn't even said good-bye. Both of them knew they'd see each other again; she'd felt it would be soon. Cary had said that he'd be in New York in a few weeks. To her that was

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soon. She'd gone to the airport with him, just to be with him for an extra hour. She'd waited until his plane took off. She knew he couldn't see her, but she waved until the plane was a dust speck in the blue sky. His plane landed at National Airport in Washington just as hers was leaving for New York. So far apart in distance and miles. But so close in her heart.

The door to the apartment slammed shut behind her. The warmth caressed her cold, numb body. She tossed off her coat and scarf and headed straight for the answering machine. The tiny light blinked repeatedly. She pressed the message button and heard Cary's voice. "I'll call you at nine o'clock this evening." Nothing more. Julie rewound and played the tape four times to see if she could detect anything in Cary's voice. A business voice, cool and impersonal. She had two hours and fifteen minutes to wait.

Tonight would be a good time to make dinner, a real one. She'd had enough sandwiches and soup to last her a lifetime. Frozen dinners in their little metal trays were an indicator that she was alone. She hated them. The freezer yielded two individually wrapped pork chops. She seasoned them, and the broiler would do the rest. A potato was scrubbed; the toaster oven would bake it to perfection. Butter and sour cream were set out to soften. A stalk of fresh green broccoli found its way to a small casserole dish and the microwave oven. Now she could change her clothes and get into her old, comfortable bathrobe and scruffy slippers. While she waited for her dinner she'd call Billie and her uncle. She should have taken the initiative and done it herself long ago. They were family. One didn't ignore one's family ... ever.

Billie's warm voice was better than a hug, Julie decided.

They discussed Thad and his late hours, the weather, Julie's vacation. "I bought you a present; it's a bit tacky, but remember, it's the thought that counts. It's one of those straw things that hang on a wall to put your bills and letters in. It has a red hibiscus on it."

"If you bought it for us, then we'll love it. I'll even hang it up. I keep my bills in a shopping bag. Thad is always after me about it. How are you, Julie?"

"If this blasted cold weather would let up, I'd be fine. I'm just itching to walk through the park to see all the greenery. I love spring, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but my favorite time of year is autumn."

"How's all the family?"

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"My goodness. I do have news! Adam Jarvis called. He and Sawyer are getting married. A real wedding, with all the trimmings, if we can talk her into it. We haven't had one of those for a long time. I plan to dive in with both feet when the time comes."

"How wonderful," Julie said. "I've caught the bouquet four times. I've given up."

"Never give up. The right man is out there; he just hasn't found you yet."

"I'm thirty-nine, Aunt Billie. He's taking a long time finding me."

Billie chuckled. "Maybe he lost his map. Don't worry, he'll find you."

"Maggie and Rand? I called the house when I was in Hawaii, but there was never any answer." It was the truth; she had called.

"They were in England for a while, then they came back and stayed here for two weeks. They're back in their paradise now. Cole is still in Texas, cleaning up what he calls the mess Riley left for him. Riley's still in Rio." That left Amelia and Cary. Billie didn't want to hear the anguish in Julie's voice, or make her ask about them. Perhaps she didn't know.

"I had a full house for a while," she went on, choosing her words carefully. "Cary and Amelia were here. I don't know if you know this—how could you?" Billie said, answering her own question, "but Amelia had a heart attack just hours after she appeared before Congress. She was in the hospital and came here the day Cary got back from Hawaii. Cole came up and flew them back."

"I thought the bypass surgery corrected her problem." Lord, that strange voice couldn't be hers.

"That's what we all thought. Apparently, Amelia didn't tell us everything. She has to take it easy. I'm sure the nice weather will play an important part in her recovery. I still subscribe to the theory that fresh air, good food, plenty of rest, and a loving husband will do the job."

"I'm sure you're right. I'll have to send her a get-well card. Aunt Billie, I think my pork chops are burning. I'll call you in a week or so. Give my love to Uncle Thad, and keep your eye out for the Hawaiian treasure I'll be sending on."

"Good-bye, Julie."

Death. People who had heart attacks usually died. If Amelia died, Cary would be free. "NO!" she screamed. "No, I

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didn't mean that. I'm not a ghoul. I won't wait for.. . No! I'm sorry! Please, God, I didn't mean that thought to crop into my head. Make her well. Give her many, many more years."

Anger raged through her. She reached down to unplug the answering machine. It took her a long time to find the box the machine came in. She jammed the machine in, any old way, not caring if she broke the buttons or knobs. She literally threw the box on the top shelf of the hall closet. "That's the end of that," she shouted to the empty apartment. For emphasis she slammed the closet door as hard as she could.

The pork chops were dry and brittle; the thin layer of fat around the edges was black. The baked potato was still hard, the inside mealy, the broccoli overcooked and bland. She ate it all.

When the phone rang at nine o'clock, she was in the shower, washing her hair. When it rang again at nine-twenty, she was creaming her face. When it rang for the last time, at nine-forty, she was doing deep knee bends. By ten-fifteen she was asleep on the couch, the afghan pulled up around her neck.