Texas Heat (2 page)

After that, Coleman didn't cry into his pillow at night when his shoulder hurt from carrying the heavy rifle. He'd suffered the black-and-blue marks from the rifle's kick during target practice without a whimper. He'd worked himself up in rank, becoming one of the youngest platoon leaders, forcing himself and his men to do extra marches, score higher marks, achieve more awards.

By the time he was twelve, he'd been promoted twice. Rank, he discovered early on, carried untold privileges, and he'd learned to use each and every one to his own advantage. He knew how to wheel and deal, to hustle the lower classmen and strike fear into the skinny little boys with their glasses and protruding teeth. Coleman liked power. At the end of the term he was acknowledged as the undisputed head of E Wing, Zone five. Now, how was it going to look if he didn't go on this European trip because his mommy said no?

When Cole closed the door behind him, Maggie's shoulders slumped. She couldn't allow him to ruin things for her, but she couldn't give in to him, either. He was still a child, looking to her for direction and challenging her at the same time. Coleman was so different from her younger brother, Riley. At sixteen, Riley had been warm and caring, his gentle, unspoiled nature and charismatic charm attracting people to him. Anyone who knew Riley loved him. He'd been all the things her son wasn't and probably never would be.

Maggie didn't need anyone to tell her where she'd failed Coleman. Caught up in her own life, her own despairs, she'd never really been there for him. How could she have handled a small boy's problems when she hadn't been able to cope with her own? And her marriage to Cranston had been on a downhill slide for the past seven years. She'd hung on, telling herself that she had to keep the family together for Coleman's sake. In truth, she'd hung on so long because there was nowhere else to go, no one else to go to.
That
Maggie Coleman Tanner hadn't liked herself very much, and her low self-esteem had only added to her fears of being alone. As long as Cranston hadn't made any moves to end their marriage, neither had she. But at last her self-loathing had spilled over onto Cranston, and after she'd started drinking too much as well, he'd left her.

Maggie shook her head as though to clear it. She didn't want to think about all that now, not today. She'd come a long way from that desperate, unhappy woman. She was still uncertain about this new person she wanted to become, but she'd taken long strides. Pap leaving Sunbridge to her had done that—given her a kind of assurance that she did belong somewhere, that she was loved, that she hadn't been overlooked by the one person who'd been more important to her than any other. Pap. All her life she'd wanted his approval, his love. She'd been such a mixed-up kid and then such a hostile, mixed-up woman. But she was determined to change all that, and now, for the first time, she felt success was within her grasp. No, she wouldn't think about Coleman now; she wouldn't let anything spoil this day.

The colorful Japanese lanterns strung around the front yard were perfect. They wound in and out of Grandmam Jessica's rose garden and down toward the long, winding drive. They'd be lighted at dusk, just as the guests began to arrive. That's when the orchestra would begin to play, and later on, when the food was served, the piano player would pound out Scott Joplin tunes in accompaniment to a banjo. Billie would probably choke when she saw the ice sculpture of a rearing stallion where champagne would cascade through transparent tubes. Maggie shrugged. Tacky, of course, but expected. It would keep Austin buzzing for weeks.

The hot July sun beat down with merciless intensity, and she was glad she'd chosen the colorful striped tent awnings that sprawled across the lawns. It all looked so gay. Funny how something as banal as acres of yellow-and-white canvas could make her feel so good. The surprise of the evening would be the special fireworks that would be displayed over the pond behind the house. Even Coleman would approve of the millions of starbursts that would light up Sunbridge at midnight.

A stray breeze caressed Maggie's shoulder. Soon it would be time to dress for the family's arrival. She planned to wear one of her mother's original designs, a Christmas gift. She loved the filmy rainbow creation and had been saving it for a special occasion. Wait till Mam saw her. Billie's eyes would light and she'd smile that warm, loving smile.

When Maggie had first gotten the idea for this party, she'd never realized it would become so important to her. For weeks now she'd lived with only one thought—the reunion. Even Coleman's homecoming had taken second place to the business of preparing Sunbridge for today. She'd had to send a chauffeur to the airport to meet Coleman instead of driving in herself; then she'd been late getting home from town and had missed his arrival. When she had at last returned home, he'd waved lazily in her general direction and gone back to reading his book. She did go up and hug him, but he'd been stiff and unyielding, punishing her for her oversight. She'd made a mental note to work harder at her relationship with Coleman, but he resisted her so, and rejection still came hard to Maggie.

Perhaps young Riley would be a steadying influence on Coleman. She was eager to see her brother's son. Not long ago she would have had to admit that she wanted him here to assuage the guilt she felt over her brother's death. But now she knew she wanted to share some part of Sunbridge with Riley. He was her nephew and a member of the family.

She remembered the day Billie had called to tell her Otami had been killed in an automobile accident in Tokyo. All the old guilt had come rushing back then, until she'd literally been sick to her stomach. First Riley and then his lovely Japanese wife. Only young Riley was left. His Japanese grandparents had taught Maggie something about unselfishness and generosity. Immersed as they were in their grief, it would have been understandable for them to keep Riley all to themselves. Instead, they wanted him to come to America to take his place as a Coleman, to become a part of his heritage. Wisely, they realized they wouldn't live forever. What would become of their precious grandson after they'd gone? “For as long as he needs to be there,” Billie had said. It was more than all right with Maggie. The last time she'd seen the boy, she'd seen how much he resembled his father. And she'd been terribly flattered that Billie would trust her to care for Riley, the only child of her only son.

A sudden breeze, stronger and different in character from before, chilled Maggie. Nothing, not even an act of God or nature, was going to spoil this party. She looked to the sky, still crystal-blue, only a rare puffy white cloud scudding across the horizon.

Maggie was feeling restless; and the confrontation with Coleman hadn't helped. She glanced at her watch; it was still too early to dress. On a sudden impulse, she kicked off her high-heeled sandals and ran through the house and outside, heading for the stables in search of Lotus, her favorite mare.

Lotus nickered in anticipation of a run when she recognized Maggie. Maggie bridled the roan and led her to the mounting post. She hiked up her skirt, straddled Lotus's satiny back, dug her bare heels into the mare's flanks, and was off. A startled groom stared after her, then shrugged. Lotus needed a run.

Maggie took Lotus at a fast canter, following the white cross-fencing circumventing the back corrals and pastures, taking the full circuit until they approached the knoll overlooking the front acres of Sunbridge. Lotus knew her way, head held erect with confidence, obeying the urgings of her mistress.

Once upon the knoll, Maggie slid from Lotus's back. First it was her grandmother Jessica she visited. Then it was Seth, and then Agnes. Pap was always last. The best was always saved for last.

While Lotus cropped the fresh green grass, Maggie went to Jessica's headstone, reaching out to follow the deeply chiseled letters of her name. She'd never really known her grandmother; Jessica had died when Maggie was only an infant, but Billie had often mentioned what a kind and gentle soul she'd been. Seth would grumpily agree with Billie, then add his own interpretation. “Timid is what she was, no grit!” Seth, cantankerous old man who'd ruled Sunbridge with an iron hand. Dead now, but never forgotten. Maggie grimaced when she looked to the left of his tombstone. Nessie, Seth's first horse, and then Nessie II and then Nessie III. It was obscene that three horses should rest in the family cemetery, but Seth would have it no other way, and no one else seemed to mind. Maggie had no fond memories of any of them—not Jessica, whom she'd never known; not Seth, who had condemned and banished her; not Agnes, who'd been a flesh-and-blood buzz saw with no one else's interests at heart but her own. Yet each of them had shaped Sunbridge, Maggie knew; each had left an indelible mark.

Pap. Tears pricked her eyes as she dropped to her knees. Idly, she picked at a weed and tossed it onto Seth's grave. Her father, her own Pap, was the real reason she came here. Here she talked and visited and felt more welcome in his presence than she ever had when he was alive. There were times when she'd spend hours here talking to her father, working things through in her mind. It was Pap's last act that had turned her life around; he'd given Sunbridge to her.

“Listen, Pap,” she said, “this is my day. I think I'm finally going to make it. Giving me Sunbridge made me back up and take a second look at Maggie Coleman Tanner. Did I tell you I'm taking our name back when my divorce comes through? Well, I am. And about this shindig today, I don't know where the idea came from, but I think it's one of my best. The whole family is coming and I'm sure they'll all be trooping by here, so keep an eye out for them.

“And I'd appreciate it if you'd accept young Riley. He is one of us, you know, and I think you also know by now that life's too short to waste on old grudges and stupid prejudice. Riley loved Otami and together they had this wonderful boy. You cheated us all, especially Mam, when you didn't tell us you knew Riley had a wife and son. Wherever you are, be kind and gentle in your thoughts of all of us, especially Riley. You know I'm still carrying this guilt around with me. I could have stopped my brother from running off to join the navy, but I encouraged him because I knew it would hurt you. I should have stopped him, but I didn't. You didn't do a lot of things, either. Maybe I can make up for it now, just the way you tried to do by leaving me Sunbridge. I know, you always thought I was a rebel, freethinking and independent. Well, I'm not. I'm so damned insecure I get sick inside. How come you never knew that?

“Hey, Pap, do me a favor, will you? Tell my brother I'm going to make things right for his son. The way you did for me. I love you, Pap. Tell Riley I love him, too.”

Maggie, her eyes glistening, brought her hand to her lips and then gently touched the tombstone.

Home to Sunbridge. Billie rested her head against the
back of the seat, her soft hazel eyes half closed against the sun's glare. She watched Thad at the wheel as he handled a bend in the road. Driving an automobile was as natural to him as flying a plane; both were done with an economy of movement and the same enjoyment. She could see the sharp bridge of his nose and his gentle gray eyes, eyes that were always ready to brighten with laughter or reveal the depths of his love. The first time she'd met him, so long ago in Philadelphia, she'd thought his eyes were his nicest feature, softening his chiseled, craggy features and echoing his smile.

Thad Kingsley hadn't changed much over the years. His mellow gold hair was paled with gray now, but he still had that same burnished tan. He carried his height with dignity and he was still military fit and trim. Despite the fact that he was a world traveler, his voice still carried the hint of a crisp New England accent, the vowels slightly flat. Now that he was again living in his home state of Vermont, his accent had deepened, become more a part of him.

When she'd first told Thad of Maggie's phone call inviting them to this Fourth of July party, he'd grinned and said, “When do we leave?” Just like that. No matter what he was doing, Thad would stop on a dime to do something that was important to her. Dear Thad. God, what if she hadn't opened her eyes in time and listened to her heart? What would have become of her?

A rolling tumbleweed skittered across the road. Billie noticed Thad didn't bother to brake. The weed was out of sight by the time the rental car sailed down the road.

Texas. Land of the rich and powerful. She realized now she'd never liked it, not really. She'd never belonged. It was too vast, too high-powered for her. She liked living in Vermont in the two-hundred-year-old farmhouse they'd modernized with a hot tub, a spanking new kitchen, and a greenhouse. The guest cottage had been converted into a studio for her, but she found she was using it less and less these days. Licensing out her trademark name of Billie had brought her all the money she could ever hope to need. She enjoyed being sought after to design a special pattern or fabric for one of her rich, famous clients. Sometimes she obliged and sometimes she didn't. It all depended upon what Thad was doing and how much free time he had. They were a unit, a twosome. She loved her life and wouldn't change it for all the Sunbridges in the world. Billie Coleman Kingsley had found her place in this world and the one person she wanted to share it with, Thad.

“We're almost there,” he said softly, breaking the silence. He removed his hand from the wheel and placed it on her silken leg. “You can handle it, can't you, Billie?”

She heard the anxiety in her husband's voice. “Thad, I can handle anything, even those nine puppies of Duchess's we left behind. This is a visit. Of course there are memories here for me, but that's exactly what they are—memories—and they belong to the past. Promise me you won't worry about me.”

“I promise.” He patted her leg reassuringly, then put his hand back on the wheel. “Are you worried that Maggie is up to something?” he asked.

“I admit it crossed my mind, but it's not fair to Maggie, is it? Why do we always expect people to remain the same and never change? We all change, don't we, Thad?”

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to grin at her. “Not you, Billie. You're still the same girl I met at the USO dance in Philadelphia. You're still the angel on my Christmas tree.”

Billie flushed beneath the intimacy of his voice. “Life changes all of us, and that includes Maggie. I think she just wants to see us all under the same roof and wants us all to know she's happy at last. How could I deny her this visit? I'm her mother. Even if—and I don't believe it's the case—even if Maggie had an ulterior motive and I knew about it, I'd still have come. She asked us. She didn't manipulate or demand; it was a hopeful invitation. I wanted to come for Maggie. It's been a long while since I've seen her. We talk on the phone, but that's hardly the same thing.”

“The gathering of the clan. I like the idea. Families are important,” Thad said quietly.

“My one regret, darling, is that I couldn't give you children. If only I'd been stronger, reached out for what I knew I wanted sooner, there might have been time for us.”

“And I've told you a hundred times, having children was never important to me.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. “You've always shared your children with me, and in a large way, I feel Sawyer belongs to us. As long as I have you, that's what's important. You promised you weren't going to mention that ever again.”

“And I meant it. If this invitation hadn't come up, I'd have stuck to my word. This is quite a family, the Colemans. Of course there will be outsiders, like Amelia's husband—” Billie threw her hands into her lap. “You see what I'm doing? I'm just like these Texans; I guess it's become ingrained after living with Seth for all those years. I'm decreeing who belongs and who doesn't. Old Seth always called you that ‘Yankee cracker,' warning Moss to ‘Watch out, boy, or that Yankee'll get the better of you.'

“I worry about young Riley, Thad. I know how Sunbridge can devour a life. I know how it can suck out the fine things like loyalty and courage and devotion. This is a demanding place, taking the best and spitting out anything that doesn't measure up.”

“Don't forget Sawyer. She was born and raised at Sunbridge, and it hasn't done her any harm.”

“That's because I was older and wiser then with my own children when I took Sawyer into my care. I was strong for her; I protected her and saw to it that her values weren't confused.”

Thad was silent for a moment. They'd had this conversation before, and Billie had mentioned that she was nervous about Sawyer coming to Sunbridge. Maggie and her daughter had been apart for too many years; the hurts and wounds ran too deep, Billie said. He wondered if Sawyer would have accepted the invitation if she weren't bringing young Riley in from Japan.

As if reading his mind, Billie said, “In many ways Sawyer and Riley are alike. Two little orphans coming home to Sunbridge. Sawyer was terribly shaken by Otami's death. They'd become very good friends, you know. There was no time to prepare for what happened, if it's ever possible to prepare for a death. One second Otami was alive and the next she was gone. A drunk driver and a life is gone, one we all treasured.” Billie wiped her eyes.

Thad could feel a lump in his own throat. When the news of Otami's death reached them in Vermont, Billie had wanted to fly to Japan immediately. But when he'd called the Hasegawas, they'd urged him to stay in Vermont and to allow them to handle their grief in private. Thad had understood and tried to make Billie understand.

“I wouldn't worry too much about Sawyer, Billie. That young woman is doing just fine. She's successful, charming, and beautiful, and your granddaughter. And she's in love.”

Billie was silent for a long time, her thoughts on the family. She was worried about Sawyer. Thad was wrong. For all her sophistication and intelligence, Sawyer was as vulnerable as a child, still believing that everyone was going to live happily ever after. There had been very few disappointments and little unhappiness in Sawyer's life.

“Billie? Did you hear me?” Thad broke into her thoughts. “I said not to worry about Sawyer.”

“I heard. And I'm not worried about her business capabilities; she more than proved herself as an aeronautical engineer. I don't know what's actually bothering me. Perhaps I'm being foolish, but I can't help it.”

Thad laughed. “Hey, listen, I'll never ignore your intuition again. When you said Duchess was going to have her puppies on Monday night and then woke me at three in the morning to tell me mother and all nine daughters were doing fine, you made a believer out of me! If things look like they might turn sticky between Sawyer and Maggie, I'll just remind them who I am.”

“And who's that?”

“Fleet Admiral Thaddeus Kingsley, Retired, now farmer and horse breeder.”

Billie giggled. “That should certainly impress them. Aren't you going to tell them that the politicals in Vermont want you to run for Congress next time around?”

“Naah, that sounds too much like bragging. People who live in Texas don't care about Vermont, unless of course their maple syrup is slow in arriving. Let's not mention it.”

“I won't, but I think it's wonderful. The United States Congress!” Not for the world would Billie let Thad know the idea scared the daylights out of her. She didn't want to live in a Washington fishbowl. And she didn't want her husband compromising his principles, as she knew most politicians were forced to do eventually. But if it was what Thad wanted, she'd back him all the way.

Thad was saved from replying. “We're here.”

Billie raised her eyes. There it was, the high wooden arch with the name Sunbridge emblazoned on it. Miles of white fencing stretched into the distance; tall oak trees arched over the winding drive; and behind them was an expanse of bright green lawn dotted with sprinklers pulsing rhythmically.

Billie always felt as though she were traveling through a tunnel of dappled green. The drive ahead of them sparkled with reflected sunshine, and when they made the final turn, the house came into view.

Thad braked the car, as much for himself as for Billie. Both of them sat for a moment, still captivated, still awed after all these years, at the sight of Sunbridge.

Sitting upon a gently sloping rise, the great house basked beneath the blue Texas sky and was caressed by the sun. Billie had once thought that only here, in this place, could the sun seem so warm and golden. In Vermont, she'd learned the same sun was warmer, even more golden.

The house was a three-story brick of the palest pink, flanked by two wings that were also three stories, but set back from the main body. This expanse of prairie rose was accented by white columns that supported the roof of a sweeping veranda. A multipaned fan light crested the huge double front door, and the design was replicated in miniature over each window on the top floor. Ornamental topiary trees and crape myrtle hugged the foundation, and surrounding the house was a magnificent rose garden complete with trellises and statuary.

“In the old days, Thad, this was called ‘a spread'—at least that's what Seth called it. I can still hear him boasting, ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand acres of prime land!'”

Thad laughed. “I can almost hear the old bastard. And to think that he built this all himself—the son of an itinerant sharecropper, a boy with no education, only good sense and a talent for ruthlessness.”

“Sunbridge,” Billie said softly. “It's the perfect name for it. Even Jessica told me she was amazed by Seth's poetic turn of thought when he named it. He always said he felt as though he could reach up and touch the sun from here. I never felt that way, but I'm sure Maggie does.”

Thad reached over and slid the back of his hand down Billie's silky cheek. “What say we get this show on the road, Mrs. Kingsley?”

“Sounds good to me!” Thad could always make the darkest moment bright again. God, she loved him.

 

Maggie stood beneath the portico, waiting. She'd felt lightheaded from the moment she'd heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. Who would arrive first? She strained to make out the passengers. Mam! And Thad! Thank God.

The car had almost come to a stop when she realized Coleman wasn't beside her. She'd called out to him on her way down the stairs, but he hadn't followed her. No matter—there'd be time for Coleman later. Mam was here! Mam had come to visit her at Sunbridge.

Billie was out of the car and up the steps, her arms outstretched. Thad watched from his position inside the car. He reached for one of their bags. It was all right; everything was going to be all right.

“Mam, you're stunning! The most beautiful mother in all Texas. Did you design that silk dress yourself?”

Billie nodded shyly as she noticed Maggie's silk lounging outfit. “Didn't I give that to you for Christmas? Let's see . . . how many years ago?”

Maggie laughed. “I don't deal in those kinds of numbers anymore. You're right, though; this is one of yours. I'd bet the rent that everyone in the family will be wearing a Billie Original today.”

“You look wonderful, Maggie. You look happy.”

“I am, Mam, really happy. Come inside. Coleman—he wants to be called Cole—will be down in a minute. Thad, come along. You must be thirsty.”

Billie approached the door. Everything was the same. The ethereal grace of Jessica's rose garden and the feminine sweep of the pink clematis vine softened the heavy, masculine-looking oak doors, made them seem more welcoming. Inside would be the same, Billie suspected; Maggie wouldn't have changed a thing. Shining oaken floors, massive beams studding the first-floor ceilings, thick dark Oriental carpets, and man-sized leather furniture. It ail bore Seth's stamp; Jessica's influence was nowhere apparent on the first floor of the house. Only outside and in the bedrooms could her whimsical and very feminine hand be felt. Billie imagined for a second that she could smell Seth's cigar smoke. The great house of Sunbridge, Coleman domain. No, nothing had changed, and she doubted it ever would.

Maggie embraced Thad affectionately. The tall man smiled down at her. Amazing how coming home to a pile of stone and brick could affect a person, he thought, how a true sense of belonging could bring out the best. “Just point me in the right direction,” he said, indicating the piece of luggage, “and I'll be back before you know it.”