Texas Heat (29 page)

The Christmas mood prevailed during the drive back to Sunbridge. This time Riley and Cole had squeezed into the car with Maggie, Eileen, and Martha. Maggie knew it was a kind of conspiracy to leave Rand and Sawyer alone, but she didn't care. She trusted Rand, even if it meant she might be hurt. Her voice carried with the others as they sang all the way home.

“We draw lots to see who hands out the gifts,” Maggie said gaily when they were once again around the Christmas tree at Sunbridge, warming themselves with hot chocolate and rum toddies. “Whoever gets the blank paper plays Santa.”

Cary won the honor and beamed with pride. Amelia, Santa's helper, glowed beneath her husband's attention as he teased that she shouldn't look only for the presents labeled with her own name.

Eileen's eyes burned as she watched gift after gift happily bestowed. She was pleased but stunned that there were so many gifts for her. The Coleman family wasn't only rich; it was generous.

By the time the last present had been opened and admired by all, it was almost dawn. Eileen felt as if she were in the bargain basement of a huge department store. Stereos for the boys; someone had received a hand-tooled saddle—the Amerasian boy, she thought. Adidas sneakers replete with little calculators that measured distance, speed, calories burned. Jewelry galore. Cary had given his wife an expensive serpentine gold chain from which dangled an eye-bruising diamond. Perfume, designer clothes, silk scarves, and Gucci bags. Golf clubs and riding crops; Maggie's son got his own full-scale video game. Even Susan's unborn child received toys and cute little shirts and baby booties that made the momma-to-be squeal in delight.

“It always seems like such a letdown when all the presents are opened.” Maggie smiled wearily. “Such wonderful presents.”

“And now there's this mess to clean up.” Riley yawned.

Eileen laughed. “All that fancy gift wrap and ribbon cost more than all my Christmases put together. I'll clean it up; it's the least I can do to thank you all for your lovely gifts. I never expected anything; being here was more than enough.”

“It was our pleasure,” Amelia said generously. “The vase you gave Cary and me is exquisite.”

Eileen dropped to her knees and began to roll the papers together. Rand joined her. “Go on to bed, everyone. Eileen and I will have this mess cleaned in a minute.”

“Rand!” Sawyer exclaimed. “Eileen is our guest; we can't have her doing chores. I'll do it. You go along to bed, Eileen,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, actually grabbing Eileen's arm and lifting her to her feet.

“Yes, come along,” Amelia said sweetly. “Leave it to the
family.
You, too, Maggie, you've had an exhausting day.”

Maggie found herself with the rest of the clan as they climbed the stairs to their respective rooms. She knew what Amelia was doing, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it ... or wanted to do.

When they were alone in the living room, with only the light from the Christmas tree twinkling against the darkness, Sawyer turned to Rand and said softly, “I thought I'd never get you to myself. I've been waiting all day for this moment.”

Rand wished her tone weren't so intimate, so seductive. He knew where this conversation was going to lead. On the way home from church Sawyer had tried to fill him with memories of things they'd done together, of what they'd been to each other. In the car he'd been able to head her off by inducing her to sing Christmas carols and talk about Riley and Cole. Now he was trapped ... and perhaps it was just as well.

“Thank you for the wonderful gift,” she was saying. “I'm so pleased you remembered my passion for bracelets, but really, you were too extravagant. Do you know I wear the one you gave me for my birthday all the time? I love the earrings you gave Maggie. Do you think she'll wear four-leaf clovers? Are they significant somehow?”

Rand was tired; it had been a long and difficult day. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and he felt like a criminal, guilty and condemned. But where was the crime in loving Maggie? “Sawyer, you must listen to what I have to say. We're going to talk, and this time you're going to listen and
hear.
I don't want to seem cruel, but somewhere you've gotten the idea that we can just pick up where we left off before the July holiday. It's not that way and I'm sorry.”

Sawyer rocked back on her heels, a tangle of ribbon threaded between her still fingers. She tried to focus on his face, saw the way the tree lights reflected in his hair.

“I care for you, Sawyer, very much, but what I feel isn't love, at least not the kind of love your looking for. I don't love you enough. I regret that.”

“Stop!” Sawyer clamped her hands over her ears. “I don't want to listen!”

He grasped her hands, pulling them away from her ears, holding them tightly against his chest. “You've got to listen! You're becoming obsessed with the idea that I'll come around and find that I've loved you all along and that I'll always love you. Don't do this to yourself, Sawyer, and for God's sake, don't do it to the rest of us!”

She seemed frozen in time, hearing but not believing, incapable of believing. “You loved me once ...” she began.

“Yes, and I still love you, but not the way you want.” He gentled his voice, loving her and pitying her at the same time. She had to set him free, him and Maggie.

“Last time you said we were at opposite ends of life. That you didn't want a family. You wanted to settle down to a simpler life. All right, then, no children, no work, just each other. I want only you, Rand. Nothing else means anything, only you.”

Rand was shaking his head, lost in the futility of it all. “No, Sawyer. What I told you then was the truth; that's how I feel about where I am in my life. But a simpler truth is that I can't love you the way you need to be loved. The way you
deserve
to be loved. Can you understand ? It's not enough for you and it's not enough for me.”

She raised her eyes, holding him with her gaze. It was as if she were delving into his head, demanding answers for questions she couldn't ask. “It's not supposed to be this way. I was so sure, so certain—” Her voice broke; a shuddering sob, silent and terrifying, shook her.

Rand wanted to reach out for her, to hold her against him, to give comfort where none could be found. “Don't do this, Sawyer; please don't do this.”

“You said that before. Only you said not to do it to the rest of you. Who's that, Rand? Who else am I hurting besides myself?”

“I only meant that something like this could break the family in two. I know you don't want that.”

“You know what I want. I guess I made a fool of myself again. I thought time and distance would've changed your mind. I know now I was wrong. But I need you to tell me something first.” Sawyer choked back a sob. “I need to hear you say there's nothing between you and Maggie. Tell me you aren't having an affair with my mother.” When there was no answer to her entreaty, her eyes filled with tears. “I think I could take anything but that. I can't believe you'd betray me like this.”

“Sawyer, it's not a betrayal. Why won't you accept that what we had wasn't strong enough?”

There was a wild thing beating in Sawyer's breast. Words, all the wrong words. Adam had known. Even she had known. Hearing it again was like a death sentence, one she could not accept. “Apparently it wasn't, since you couldn't wait to jump into my mother's bed,” she cried hoarsely. “My God! Doesn't she have any decency?”

“Sawyer, it wasn't like that. What can I say to make you understand?”

“Why don't you ask what will make me forgive you, because I understand all right, damn right I understand! I know what she is even if you don't. I'm sorry for you, Rand, terribly sorry.” She fought her way to her feet, hampered by the empty boxes and cartons, the snarls of ribbons and acres of shredded paper. Only in the privacy of her room did she let the tears flow; quiet, hateful tears.

Rand sat with his head in his hands for a very long time. When the daylight, bright from the reflection of the snow, penetrated the draperies, he hefted himself to his feet and began to clear away the litter. He made four trips to the back service porch, where he piled the hefty sacks of trash neatly one on top of the other. He was hurting and he wanted to be comforted.

He wanted Maggie.

Christmas Day was the horror Rand dreaded. He thanked
God untold times for the boys and for Eileen, who kept things going. Neighbors visited with traditional good cheer, and Riley and Cole's friends livened things up with a spontaneous party, dancing to records and making a pleasant din amid the silence. Sawyer joined the young people, her laughter strained and her face a bit too pink from Cary's hot toddies. Maggie, ever watchful, knew what must have happened. Amelia, knowing nothing but her jealousy of Eileen Farrell, stuck close to her husband. Susan lay down for a long afternoon nap and finally asked to have her dinner sent to her room. Only Cary, oblivious to everything except the holiday fun and the exuberance of the youngsters, enjoyed himself.

It was four o'clock in the morning the day after Christmas when Cole found Sawyer downstairs in the living room, her head buried in her arms as she lay facedown on one of the sofas. On the floor within reach was an empty decanter of Scotch and a toppled glass.

Cole knew an overwhelming sense of helplessness. What could he do to help her? All day she'd been too bright, like a bulb just before it burns out. She hadn't told him what was wrong, but it hadn't been hard to guess, seeing the distance she'd suddenly put between herself and Rand when she'd been falling all over him on Christmas Eve.

Right now he had to get her upstairs and into the shower. Somehow she had to be sober and fit to travel by seven in the morning. But he couldn't do it alone.

Riley woke at Cole's touch and sat up groggily. His first thought was something had happened to his grandfather. “Say again?”

“I said I need your help. Sawyer's downstairs and she's dead drunk. If we don't do something, neither one of us will be going to New York. Hustle your ass, Riley, and get downstairs. Do you know how to make coffee?”

“No, do you?”

“No, but she needs it to sober up.”

“Hey, Cole, you know what you learned in school. Nothing sobers you up, not coffee or food or anything, only time!”

“That's exactly what we don't have. We've got to be leaving here in three hours! Now hustle!” he hissed. “We don't have to get her sober enough to drive, only to get her on her feet and moving.”

Riley grabbed his terry robe and followed Cole down the stairs.

“Let's get her into the kitchen. You take one arm and I'll take the other. Between us we'll figure out how to work the percolator. She's so drunk it won't matter how it tastes.”

“It might make her sick. That's what happened to you.”

“Yeah, at least she'll puke up the booze in her stomach before it hits her bloodstream. I learned
that
in school, too. Meanwhile, you got any better ideas?” Cole snapped as he gently took Sawyer under the arm in a firm grip.

Sawyer was roused enough by the manhandling to mutter, “Let me alone. Let me sleep.” Determinedly, they dragged her into the kitchen.

“It might help if you'd tell me what's going on,” Riley said as he tried to hold Sawyer erect on the chair. “I've got a right to know.”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Cole said grudgingly as he filled the electric percolator and dumped coffee into the strainer basket. “I think Rand's got something going with my mother. I'm pretty sure of it. The bottom line is he dumped Sawyer.”

“That was in July. Why'd she get drunk now?”

“I think she thought they could patch it up. I just found her like this a little while ago. And if we both want to go to New York, we better fix her up quick.”

For the next two hours both boys badgered, cajoled, and walked Sawyer around the kitchen. When her insides ripped loose, Cole held her head over the sink and Riley steadied her.

“I'm going to kill both of you for this,” Sawyer sputtered as Cole doused her entire head in lukewarm water.

“You told me if I made an ass out of myself, I damn well better be ready to take the consequences. This is your consequence. We're gonna get you upstairs and you can change your clothes. You've got exactly forty-five minutes to get ready and be downstairs. You got that?”

“Miserable, rotten cretins. I'll lose you in New York. I'll starve you!”

“He's not worth it!” Cole cried vehemently.

“Just shut the hell up. I'm all right now. I can walk by myself. It wasn't necessary to wet my head.”

“Wear a hat,” Riley suggested.

“Riley, get your gear and stow it by the. front door,” Cole ordered. “The car will be out front by seven. I'm packed. Once we get her in her room, I'm going back to clean up the kitchen. Watch her.”

“Who put you in charge?” Sawyer demanded. “You sound like a goddamn drill sergeant.”

“When the first in command falters, the second in command takes over. So move it! And be quiet.”

Riley opened Sawyer's door and shoved her inside. “I have to get my bags and get dressed. I'll be right back. Can you manage?”

“I can manage. I'll be ready. What are we doing about saying good-bye to my hostess?”

“I thought you said good-bye last night. I did. Aunt Maggie said she was sleeping in. I guess Cole did the same thing.”

“You're right. I'm just a bit foggy. Do what you have to do.”

Sawyer snapped the latch on her bag and looked around to see if she'd forgotten anything. She was bundling her damp hair into a knot on top of her head when the door opened. Maggie stood in the doorway.

“If you're here to gloat, do it quickly. It's almost time to leave,” Sawyer said flatly. “I want you to know something before I leave because I won't ever be coming back. All those years when you were so rotten, I found excuses for you. I used to cry myself to sleep saying over and over, ‘Tomorrow she'll write,' or ‘Tomorrow she'll call.' You never did. You simply didn't give a damn. I feel sorry for Cole. At least I had Grand to care. And you know what, Maggie? You deserve to see all your chickens come home to roost. I hope I never have to see you again.”

Maggie's insides crumbled. She listened and knew she deserved everything Sawyer said. But it didn't make it any more bearable. “I thought you had more guts, Sawyer,” she said. “I'd hoped you were a fighter, a survivor like me. I was wrong. Good-bye.”

Sawyer stared at the closed door. Guts. Be a fighter, a survivor like her. No thanks, Mother, not if it means being like you.

Cole raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time. As he rounded the corner of the wide upper hallway, he met Riley. “Where's Sawyer?”

“She's almost ready. She told me to get lost,” Riley muttered.

“That's probably the best advice you'll ever get,” Cole answered coldly.

“I've had enough of you, Cole! Get off my back. You want to start something, now's as good a time as any.”

“I'm not afraid of you. I'll take you on, but some other time. First, I want to get away from this place.”

Both boys eyeballed each other. Their day of reckoning was coming and they both knew it.

 

Maggie stood by her bedroom window watching the limo roar down the drive. She sank against the window, her brow cooled by the glass. How could things have gotten so messed up? She hadn't wanted an open confrontation with Sawyer; she had gone to her daughter's room to check on the boys and say her good-byes. It had been Sawyer who'd lashed out first. Maggie's hands formed into fists, the knuckles whitening. Why did she have to fight for everything she wanted? And why was she always the one to wear the black hat?

“They've gone, have they?”

Maggie swung around to see Rand standing in the open doorway. He looked terrible.

“Yes, they've gone,” she replied. “And as usual I've made a mess of things. I got up to say good-bye to the boys and came face-to-face with Sawyer. She let me have it with both barrels.”

“Were you surprised?”

“No, but I regret it. I've never had much of a relationship with Sawyer, but when she said she never wanted to see me again, that she'd never ever come back here to Sunbridge, it was like being hit over the head.” She laughed, a bitter sound in the quiet room. “I've got a lousy track record, Rand, and it doesn't seem to be improving.”

“What will you do?”

“I was just thinking about that. I was remembering the way they sent me to Vermont after Sawyer was born, and how I cried and cried and told Mam that I hated her and that I'd never love her again.”

“And what did Billie do?”

“She said it wasn't important that her children love her. That she hadn't brought us into the world to fill a gap in her life. She brought us into the world because she loved us and that love carried a responsibility. And that's why she was sending me away from Sunbridge, because she loved me and it was for my own good.”

“Do you believe that now?”

“Yes, without a doubt. But I can't seem to get over the hurt that I wasn't wanted here in the first place. That I could never seem to find my own niche here.”

“You do belong at Sunbridge, Maggie. And you also belong here.” He opened his arms to her and she walked into his embrace. He held her close, burying his face in the fragrance of her neck. “And I do love you, Maggie. Without doubt.”

 

The ski lodge was toasty warm. Adam leaned back in his swivel chair by the fire. How was he going to tell Paula he had to leave? Just up and tell her, or take the coward's way out and fake a virus? She'd be fine on her own, and since everything was paid for, she could stay on. The hot coffee mug warmed his hands. His breakfast was lying heavily on his stomach. He was brooding, fighting off a feeling of impending doom. All was not right with his beloved Sawyer. He had to get back to New York.

“Paula,” he said lazily, “how upset would you be if I cut out and returned to New York?”

“Work, stomach virus, or the truth? ... You're worried about Sawyer. I'm sure I can manage. I am staying on here, right?”

Paula was a great girl. Fun, understanding, and no strings attached. Bedroom eyes smiled at him. “Go, you big goof. You'll only make both of us miserable if you stay. The shuttle leaves”—Paula looked down at the slim square on her wrist—“in forty-five minutes.”

“You're a sport. I can be packed in five minutes.”

“You never really unpacked, did you, Adam? Just pay the bill, honey, and leave my airline ticket on the dresser.”

“I should marry you is what I should do.” Adam grinned.

“No way. You'd be drawing cartoons of me and hanging them in the bathroom after the first month. Why spoil a good thing? Enjoy yourself, because I'm going to have a ball.”

“See you.” Adam waved airily. Paula waved back. She
would
have a good time, the witch.

 

Sawyer herded the boys into the dingy freight elevator. “I know this looks rather weird, but when you see the loft, you're going to be surprised.”

As soon as they walked through the front door, a horn blared. Confetti streamed from the top of the door sill. “Welcome home, gang!” Adam yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Adam! What are you doing here?”

“I got tired of sitting by the fire and drinking toddies. You must be Cole, and of course you're Riley,” Adam said, extending his hands to both boys. “Are we going to have a ball. I've been dying to see New York ever since I moved here. I mean really see it. This slug”—he indicated Sawyer—“is just along for the ride. Come on, I'll show you where you're bunking. Then I'll show you some of my better work; we'll catch some news on TV—that's a must, because I make my living spoofing the politicos—and then we'll take off for one of my favorite eating places, the Back Porch. There's no place like New York for eating out. You guys are gonna beg to come back here.”

The Texans took on the Big Apple with verve and determination. The hectic week started off with a visit to the most famous lady in the world, the Statue of Liberty, followed by Wall Street, the Twin Towers, the Village, and Chinatown's Mott Street. They breakfasted at Samantha's, lunched at the Four Seasons, dined at the Sign of the Dove, and managed to fit in Sloppy Louie's for the best fish in the world. Cole, who'd lived in New York most of his life, discovered places he had never known.

Bloomingdale's, Saks Fifth Avenue, and St. Patrick's Cathedral were followed by a trip to the Seventh Avenue garment district. The Museum of Natural History and the Modern Art Museum vied with a matinee of the Broadway show Cats and a screening of the latest Chuck Norris adventure.

“Someday I'm going to write a book about this town,” Adam said during the hair-raising ride to Kennedy Airport in a cab being driven by a Lebanese camel jockey.

There were manly handshakes, boyish kisses and hugs. The memories of New York were something none of them would forget.

“By God, that was one of the best weeks I've ever had,” Adam said happily on the ride back to the apartment.

“Adam, I don't think I can ever thank you for what you did this past week.”

“Thank me? Hell, I should be thanking you. I really saw New York. I lived it; I loved it. I'll probably never do it again. I think the boys had a ball.”

“They did. They really liked you, Adam. Texas is going to seem tame after this glorious visit.” She paused thoughtfully. “I was surprised that Cole went to see his father yesterday. For some reason I thought Cole had scratched him off his list of people to know and love.”

“New Year's Day, what do you expect? He probably felt it was something he had to do. He did seem a little subdued afterward, but he snapped out of it.”