Texas Heat (27 page)

“Not my long johns, that's for sure. We haven't made love in front of the fire for a long time.”

Billie sprinted up the stairs like a young girl. Life was so good, so wonderful! “Thank you, God,” she whispered.

 

“You really put me on the spot, Sawyer. Your grandmother knew I was lying. I could tell by her voice. Why won't you talk to her?

“You know, I hate going off and leaving you here by yourself. Swear to me that you really are going to Sunbridge so I don't drive myself nuts worrying about you.”

“I am going to Sunbridge. For Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I plan on bringing the boys back with me for a few days. Rand, too, if he can make it.”

Adam's heart turned over. Her eyes were too bright, her cheeks too flushed. She really believed what she was saying. “You didn't answer my question about your grandmother,” he said gently.

“I didn't want to have to go into the whole thing. Grand understands. It won't be the same without her, but I'm glad she's with Thad. Now, there's a marriage made in heaven.”

“She's concerned about you, Sawyer. It's cruel, what you're doing. Does Maggie know you're coming?”

“Of course. I was invited, remember?”

“Sawyer, what if things don't ... what if ...”

“You worry too much, Adam. Everything'g going to work out. I've played the game by the book. I didn't call, write, or pester. When Rand sees me and realizes what a mistake he's made, things'll be just fine. We're in love.”

You mean you're in love! Adam wanted to shout. He knew what was going to happen to her, and it made his guts churn. But this time Sawyer would have to deal with it herself. He wasn't going to be there.

“I can't believe you're taking all that stuff!” Sawyer said in awe. “A man could go to war with less. Didn't you say you were staying only five days?”

“That's what I said, but that was before...”

“Before you invited Paula Zachary to join you. I took the call, remember?” She laughed.

“See this little thing? This is what I'm taking to Sunbridge. I know how to pack.”

“Know-it-all.” Adam sniffed. Secretly, he wondered if he'd packed too much, but he absolutely refused to do laundry while he was on vacation.

Sawyer grinned. “Who's picking you up? A taxi or a truck?”

“Actually, I hired a limo. Paula has quite a bit of stuff herself. Stop being so nosy. I've gotta go. The limo should be here any second now and I said I'd be downstairs.”

“I'll carry your skis and your boots. Do you think you can manage the rest?”

“I'm gonna have to, since I'm not about to make two trips. You always were a big help—a pain in the ass, but a help nonetheless,” Adam said fondly.

“I hope you have a good time. Think of me when you toast in the New Year.”

“I always think of you. New Year's Eve isn't going to make a difference. Make sure you think of me. And I hope it goes the way you want. Say hello to your family. Merry Christmas, Sawyer,” Adam said as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I left your gift under the tree.”

“Yours is in the duffel bag. Don't break a leg now.”

The limo pulled up to the curb, and there was the usual confusion as to what went where and Adam telling the driver the best way to go to pick up Paula. Sawyer rolled her eyes at him and grinned.

Then he was gone.

Sawyer walked around the loft, picking up one thing and laying it down, only to pick up something else. Adam's work area was clear, especially neat. The kitchen, too, was neat and tidy, the dishwasher emptied. No crumbs littered the floor. Marble, the cat, lay contentedly under the table.

There was nothing to do. The laundry had been done earlier, washed, dried, and folded. it would be dark soon; maybe she should turn on the tree lights. It was a gorgeous tree. Adam had trekked out to Long Island in a borrowed pickup and lugged the tree all the way back. It was beautiful when it came to life with hundreds of tiny lights. The decorations, Adam said, had been sent to him from Germany by a friend. Adam had so many friends. Thoughtful friends, who never forgot him. She thought about it for a while and decided Adam had a lot of friends because he was a friend. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she would do without him.

Gift. He'd said he left her gift under the tree. Actually, there were two gifts bearing her name. One would be frivolous and the other, she knew, would be serious. She poked, rattled, and shook the gaily wrapped boxes. She could tell by the puckered Scotch tape that Adam had wrapped them both himself. Store gift wrap never puckered.

Adam hadn't said she couldn't open the gifts. After all, she would be leaving tomorrow and wouldn't be here for Christmas. She really should open them just in case he called while she was at Sunbridge.

Sawyer played a game with herself as darkness invaded the loft. First, with only the twinkling tree miniatures for light, she poured herself a glass of wine and toasted the holiday. Then she made a toast to her future happiness with Rand. She walked all around the tree, admiring it, sipping from her long-stemmed wineglass. There were a lot of gifts underneath. Two days ago the tree skirt had held nothing but a few pine needles. It smelled so good-Scotch pine was her favorite. Rand said he loved Scotch pine best, too. They always had blue spruce at Sunbridge.

Sawyer kept staring at the gifts. She turned on the small brass lamp atop the desk, then dropped to her knees and sorted through the presents: To Adam from Nick. To Adam from Blake. To Adam from George and Hugh.. To Adam from the gang. To Adam from Mom and Dad. To Adam from Joan. To Adam from Steve, Bill, and Carmen. To Adam from Alice and Ed.

So many friends who thought enough of him to drop by with presents! Sawyer wondered if he'd bought presents for all these people. Her gifts, she noticed, were a little to the side. She finished her wine and poured another glass. On hands and knees she scrambled to the bookshelf in the corner, selected a Christmassy-sounding audio cassette and popped it into the player. Now it seemed like Christmas.

The oddly shaped box that didn't rattle was her first choice. Even as a kid she'd always gone for the biggest first, knowing full well the best was in the smallest package. Carefully she opened the box and stared down at her present. Her very own Cabbage Patch doll! The adoption papers read, Willow Carmena. Wait till Adam opened his duffel and found Willow Carmena's twin, Cornell Damian. She shrieked with laughter.

Spent, she leaned against the sofa and opened her other gift, the small one, the serious one. It was a book of poetry simply titled
New Beginning.
Sawyer turned the pages, pleased to see that the poetry was Adam's; she'd recognize it anywhere. Dear God, all the poems were for her. How much time and effort must have gone into this book! It was bound beautifully in rich Moroccan leather with her name embossed on the inside. As she leafed through the slim volume, a small card slipped out.

Sawyer wept, tears of sorrow, of anger, of remorse. If only they could be tears of happiness. “Oh, Adam,” she sobbed, “I do love you, but not the way you want!”

Riley woke suddenly from a horrible dream. Sweat soaked
the sheet he'd wrapped tightly about him in sleep. His arms and legs flailed as he came to grips with the reality of a new day. The dream had been so real. He'd awakened from surgery; a nurse handed him a mirror. Heart pounding, he'd looked for the tiny sutures around his eyes that would make him as American as his father. There were no sutures and no Westernized eyes. If anything, his eyes were more lidded, more oblique than ever. He rolled over, burrowing deeper into the covers. Having his eyes Americanized was his dream and his nightmare.

Christmas Eve. One of the happiest days of the year in America. His room looked dim, grayish and dull. It had to be mid-morning. He leaped out of bed and whipped open the lacy curtains. Snow! Aunt Maggie said it always snowed at Sunbridge for Christmas. The overhead light went on and both lamps were lit. Riley dived into his clothes, gave his face a skimpy wash and his perfect white teeth an even skimpier cleaning. The fine stubble could wait till later. He wasn't hairy like Cole, and it made him self-conscious. Cole, he knew,
had
to shave every day, whereas Riley could do it once a week, and even then it wasn't necessary. His legs and chest were also free of the fine curly furring that bloomed on Cole. The girls teased him in the summer, but he'd accepted it good-naturedly, saying he'd just been waxed. And at least he had a delicious—according to Kelly Jensen—full head of wavy black hair. He grinned as he brushed it into place.

Sawyer was supposed to be here by noon. Rand was to have arrived before breakfast, Aunt Maggie had said. Tree trimming was set for late afternoon, fiveish or so with cocktails, and then there was to be a six-course dinner followed by carols in the huge drawing room. Midnight service in Crystal City and then gift opening. He could hardly wait.

The breakfast table was full. He took his place amid smiles and light teasing about being a sleepyhead and slugabed. He grinned as he piled his plate with sausage and eggs, then crunched on toast as he looked around the table. Rand, fresh from an early flight, was busy buttering a piece of toast. Aunt Amelia and Cary were bickering about whether she should go out in the snow or not. Cole had just finished gulping the rest of his orange juice and now stood up, throwing his napkin onto the table. Riley was relieved to hear his cousin say he was going into Crystal City to finish up his last-minute shopping.

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, and all the conversation was directed at him. Everyone laughed and he flushed.

“We'll back that all up and start over,” Cary said kindly, noting the boy's flushed face. “Amelia?”

“I was wondering, Riley, if you don't have plans for the rest of the morning, would you come over to the house and shovel the driveway? The weathermen are predicting sleet later, and I'd like to salt down the steps and the walkway. Cary has to go over to the site and check on the gas lines and then pick up Miss Farrell.”

“Sure I'll do it. I love the snow.”

“Good, that's settled. Amelia is like a bee with one wing this morning,” Cary said fondly as he patted her on the shoulder. “Susan, you're next.”

“It's no big deal. I just wanted to know if you'd carry my gifts downstairs. Some of them are rather large and awkward. I'm not too graceful these days. Would you mind?”

“I'll do it when I finish breakfast,” Riley said cheerfully.

“I just wanted to remind you to call your grandfather later on, and I'd like to wish him a happy holiday,” Maggie said. “I know it's not a holiday for him, but he is so aware of ours, I thought it would be nice.”

“I won't forget. I was going to wait till about eight o'clock this evening. It'll be Christmas morning in Japan and the old one will just be rising. Did he send presents?” Riley asked anxiously.

Maggie laughed. “A truckload. It took United Parcel an hour just to unload. It took Steven another hour to carry the packages indoors. I'd say he didn't forget you or anyone at Sunbridge.” There was an odd tremor in Maggie's voice. Riley suspected it had something to do with the fact that Rand was sitting next to her.

“The old one always played Santa Claus at his newspaper for Christmas,” he said. “A lot of the employees were American. He got a kick out of it. He likes to exchange presents.”

“Rand, how was—the weather in England when you left?” Susan asked nervously.

“Nasty.” He hesitated. “I tried to call Jerome before I left, but the phone was disconnected.”

Susan's heart thumped. Disconnected? Why? Despite the resentment she felt, regardless of his rejection of their child, Susan's feeling toward her husband were ambiguous. More than ever, she wanted someone to share this experience with—Maggie and Amelia simply weren't enough. A child should know its own father, and that father should provide a home for his family. Even if that father was Jerome, damn him.

“Well, I have to be going,” Cary said, standing up and bending over to kiss Amelia on the cheek. “I should be back by mid-afternoon. Nice to see you again, Rand. Maggie, is there anything I can bring back from Crystal City for you?”

“No, it's all under control. Thanks for asking, though. Please, drive carefully; the roads are bad.”

“'Bye, darling, see you later,” Amelia called gaily.

“You be careful driving, too. Don't forget, Eileen will be with me.”

“Darling, how could any of us forget?” Amelia said coolly. “You've mentioned it at least a dozen times.”

“Who's Eileen?” Rand asked after the door closed behind Cary.

“The girl who works in Cary's office,” replied Maggie, glancing apprehensively at Amelia. “It seems she'll be alone for the holiday and Cary asked if she could spend Christmas with us.”

“Excuse me, all,” Amelia said stiffly. “I want to call down to the barn and have them bring up some rock salt. Riley, dress warmly and see if you can't find the snow shovel. It used to hang inside the cellarway. Is it still there, Maggie?”

“As far as I know. Drive slowly. We'll keep the fires burning and have a toddy ready for you when you get back. Is there any last-minute wrapping you want me to do?”

“No, I've got it all covered. You'll be busy enough entertaining Sawyer when she arrives.” Amelia looked at her pointedly. “She's due soon, isn't she?”

“Around noon, I believe.” Maggie smiled and hoped her breezy tone would drive the disapproving look from Amelia's face. “Have fun, you two! See you later.”

Susan excused herself right after Amelia and Riley left. There was an awkward silence, and then Rand spoke.

“It appears we're alone,” he said quietly. “You're acting like a cat on a hot griddle. In other words, sweet, you're feeling guilty.”

“Am I?” Maggie whispered. “I guess it's because I am.”

“For God's sake, Maggie. We went through all this. You told me just last week on the phone you were your own person and you were going to do what you wanted, and that included me. Have you changed your mind?”

“No ... yes ... oh, I don't know. I so wanted this Christmas to be perfect. First, Mam can't make it. Amelia disapproves of us and is acting as though I stole her jewels. Susan is avoiding me. Cole refuses to do more than look at me, and when our eyes do meet, his are full of disgust. Riley is torn. Sawyer will be here soon. My God, I feel like a thief. Please, you have to try and understand.”

“I do understand. I shouldn't have come. It was a mistake, Maggie. I don't like playing games.”

“Neither do I,” Maggie said, so quietly Rand had to strain to hear her.

“I think I'm in love with you, Maggie.”

“Don't say that. Not now.”

“It's Sawyer, isn't it? The rest you can handle.”

“I'm not sure. You know how I feel. My God, yes, I want you. I've caused so much hurt in this family I can't cause any more. You have to understand my position.”

“No thumbing your nose at them and happy ever after?” Rand asked quietly.

“Maybe I could come to England.... We . . . could ...”

“Goddammit, Maggie, I'm not talking about some cheap affair. I'm talking about you and me. Us. Our lives.”

“The others ... they'll think ...”

“Who the devil cares what they think? We have to think about what's best for us. They'll all come to accept it. Don't make this more difficult than it is now.”

“I do care about the others. My son, Mam, Riley ...”

“What about Sawyer?” Rand asked coldly. “That's what this is all about, you know. Admit it. Mother versus daughter. I'm in the middle.”

Maggie's face closed. “That must make you feel pretty powerful. Two women in love with you.”

“Sawyer is in love with an image. I wasn't sure till now that you care for me. Is the word love so hard to say?”

“For me it is. I never had any. I'm not even sure I know what love is. The concept of love, maybe. I do feel something for you I've never felt for anyone else. But you're wrong about Sawyer. Sawyer loves you with her whole heart. For Sawyer it was now and forever. That kind of love. How could you not have seen that?” Maggie asked angrily.

“I did see it, damn it. Don't jam home the guilt, Maggie. I was Sawyer's first love. That will always be special to her. I didn't love her enough. It has to be mutual or it doesn't work. You have to realize that I was a father image to Sawyer. I believe that in my heart. You have to believe it, too. You had the same kind of problem with your own father.”

Tears burned Maggie's eyes. Sawyer, always Sawyer. “Could we just put all this on hold, get through Christmas, and then work it out?” she asked, swallowing hard. “I really can't deal with it today.”

“Right now I feel if I don't take you in my arms, I won't be able to take another breath,” Rand said hoarsely.

“Right now if I don't get up from this table, I will let you do exactly that, and then I'll end up hating both of us. This is the way it has to be ... for now. Forgive me,” Maggie whispered as she ran from the room.

Only in her own room with the door closed behind her did she let go. Why me? Why is it always me? I didn't lead him on. I didn't set out to snatch him from Sawyer. It just happened. I'm sorry. I can't change feelings. Why do I have to be the one who has to give everything up? Why does Sawyer get it all?

Maggie watched as the snow swirled about the treetops. She'd seen enough Texas storms to know this one was just about over. The snow was fine, powdery, perfect for skiing. There must be at least six inches on the ground. The drifts on the north end of the house were up to the windows on the first floor. As a child she and Susan had jumped and played snow angel in them. How long ago that was!

Something churned inside Maggie. A need to confide, to talk, to seek answers to her problems. Susan was besieged with her own worries right now, and Amelia, while loving, was disapproving. Mam? She could give it a try.

Quickly, she dialed the familiar number in Vermont, only to be told the power and telephone lines were out due to the storm. Service would most likely be restored by late afternoon. But that was too late. She needed to talk now.

In the blink of an eye, Maggie had on wool slacks and her heavy parka. She found her boots by the kitchen door in the boot tray.

“If anyone asks where I am, you don't know,” Maggie told Martha as she pulled on her boots over heavy socks. She almost laughed at the startled expression in the woman's eyes. “It's uphill most of the way. The drifts are on this side. Look, it's almost stopped snowing.” Before leaving the kitchen, she plucked a bright red poinsettia from a plant on the kitchen counter.

The gravestones looked desolate with their mantles of snow. Mittened hands dug a hole in the snow. Already the poinsettia was frozen; she propped it up with scoops of snow. It looked like blood—her blood. “Merry Christmas, Pap,” she said softly. “I think I'm just going to wing this one.”

Maggie returned the way she'd come. She placed her boots neatly in the back door tray, hung her parka on the wooden coatrack near the back door. Martha held out a cup of coffee for her, which she accepted gratefully as she made her way up the back stairway to the nursery. She felt better. At least she was in control of her emotions now. Fresh air had a way of clearing the head.

She didn't see him at first simply because she didn't expect anyone to be in the room.

“That was a damn fool thing to do,” Rand said coolly.

“Yes, I suppose it was,” Maggie replied just as coolly. “However, it was something I needed to do. I usually do what I want. I'm all grown-up now.”

“Being grown-up doesn't necessarily mean you always make the right decisions. We need to talk, Maggie.”

“No. Not now.”

“When? Tomorrow, next week, next month, a year from now? When? Give me a time and a date.”

“I can't do that. Don't pressure me, Rand. This isn't any easier for me than it is for you. I'm going to have to handle it my way, and you're going to have to handle it my way, too.”

“You really mean it, don't you?” Rand asked incredulously.

“Yes, I do.” Maggie's gaze was level, defying Rand to pursue the matter. When the door closed behind him, her shoulders slumped.

Her cheeks were as rosy as if she'd dusted them with crimson rouge. Biting wind or... Rand?

Rand marched downstairs to the beat of a drummer he'd never heard before. He headed straight for the study and the portable bar.

Susan looked up from the magazine she was reading. “A bit early, isn't it?” she asked gently.