Texas Heat (9 page)

“I seem to recall someone saying you'd already had a baby at my age, Mother,” Cole drawled insolently.

Maggie flinched but refused to take the bait. “Cole, we have to talk. I don't like what's happening here. I want us to be a family. We have things that need discussing.”

“Like the way you said you'd think about allowing me to make the trip? That was just lip service, wasn't it. You never had any intention of letting me go. Admit it!”

“I admit it,” Maggie said through clenched teeth. “I want you here at Sunbridge. You aren't going back to military school, either. In the fall you'll go to school right here. I'm sorry to hit you with all this when you aren't feeling up to par, but it's necessary.”

“No it isn't. You like jabbing me and you know it. Why is Riley here? You never did give me a straight answer to that. Don't get any ideas that we're going to be best buddies, because it won't work.”

Maggie set her coffee cup precisely in the center of her saucer. “I was hoping it would work. I was hoping you'd try because it's important to me. Are you jealous of Riley, Cole?”

Cole snorted. “Me? Jealous of a Jap? Come on, Mother.”

“I can't force you to like him, but I can insist you be civil. And I do insist,” she added sharply.

“Or what? You already said I can't go on the trip. You said I'm going to the local schoolhouse, so what's left?”

“Why are you being so difficult? Why can't you meet me halfway? Why do we always end up at each other's throats?”

“Why is it always
my
fault?
You're
the one who seems to have problems with relationships,” he snapped.

“I'm getting very tired of you throwing up my past. I'm trying to get along with you. I've made my mistakes and I'm living with them. I don't want the same thing to happen to you.”

“The nut doesn't fall far from the tree. Is that what you're saying?”

“No, that's what you're saying. I'm trying to prevent you from making my mistakes, and your attitude isn't helping.”

“If you'd leveled with me from the beginning, we wouldn't be having this discussion.”

“Would you have listened? Would you?” When Cole shrugged, Maggie continued, “As for Riley, he has as much right to be here as you and I. If his father had lived,
he
would have inherited Sunbridge.”

“Second best, eh, Mater?”

“Stop it, Cole! You're not funny. Right now, you could take a few lessons in manners from your cousin.”

“I knew that was coming. He's tall and handsome! I'm a head shorter and skinny. He looks good in his father's clothes, and I look like a clown dressed up for Halloween. Well, you can't make me into something I'm not, Mother.”

“I'm not trying to make you into anything. I'm trying to give you a decent home so you can put down roots. It's important, Cole. Before, you were at school during the year and a guest in an apartment in New York for holidays. That wasn't home.
This
is home!”

“
Your
home, Mother. It's just a house to me. The apartment was fine. I liked New York.”

“Well, I didn't.”

“That's the bottom line, isn't it. It's what you want. It's always what you want. You and Dad didn't even tell me you were getting a divorce. I had to hear it from my counselor at school.”

“I wanted to tell you. Your father did, too. But your counselor thought it would be best coming from him. And unfortunately, we listened to bad advice. I'm sorry about that, but I can't undo it.”

“I called Dad this morning.”

“You
what
?”

Cole laughed. “I thought that would get a rise out of you. I called Dad this morning. He'll be here this weekend. He said he was planning on coming next week as a surprise, but he'd move it up to this weekend because he's free.” Cole savored the look on his mother's face, for a moment, then moved in for the kill. “He said I could come and live with him in New York if I wanted.”

Maggie managed to gather her composure. She reached for her coffee cup with trembling hands, gripping it around the middle, but she didn't drink. “I have sole custody of you, Cole,” she said evenly. “You cannot go to New York unless I agree. I do not agree. Do you understand?”

“Dad's a lawyer. He said he'd work it out with you.”

“There's nothing to work out. You're staying here.” Cole jumped up from the table. “You can't make me into your brother or your father! That's what you're trying to do. You wanted to see me in a military school so I'd wear a uniform like Grandpap did. You constantly try to find a resemblance to him in me. Now you want me to play cowpoke like your brother. You want to use me to make yourself feel better.”

“That's not true!”

“Isn't it? Then why is Riley here? You could have said no when Grand asked you if he could come. You're using him, too.”

Maggie brought the coffee cup to her lips. The boy's words bothered her.

“No, Cole, you're wrong.”

“No, Mother, I'm right.”

“I won't argue the point. Now that you've told me of your father's visit, we'll wait till he gets here to discuss it. Meantime, you will do as I say—when I say it. I know you don't feel up to riding, but they can use some help in the barn; so if I were you,” Maggie said, her voice firm but not unkind, “I'd get moving and get your chores done.”

Cole stared at her, mouth agape. He was about to protest, then thought better of it. He'd keep a list to present to his father. His father would understand; his father would take care of everything.

When Cole had stomped angrily out of the dining room, Maggie crumpled. Suddenly a firm hand was placed on her shoulder, and she started in surprise. “Rand!”

“I thought you handled all that very well. I'm sorry I eavesdropped, but when I heard the discussion, I didn't want to come in and interrupt.”

“That's all right. I guess you can see I have a problem on my hands.”

“Yes, you do. Perhaps when the boy's father arrives, you can work something out.”

Maggie laughed bitterly. “That's not likely to happen. Cranston didn't give me an argument over Cole. He simply wanted nothing to do with him. He was happy to give me sole custody of the boy. We're in the middle of divorce proceedings. For Cole to go to him . . . It did upset me.”

“He's no different from most kids. He'll play both ends against the middle if he can get away with it.”

“I don't understand. I've given him everything. The finest schools, the best clothes, an adequate allowance. Wonderful vacations. What more does he want?”

“That's not exactly the question here. What he did want before—what he needed—was a family, but he was sent off to school. Admit it, Maggie. You weren't the most attentive mother. I'm not trying to be insulting; believe me. Now you suddenly want a family. Cole is confused and he's angry. He sees Riley as an intruder, an interloper. Somehow you're going to have to work it out. Hopefully, Cranston will help. Parents always want what's best for their children.”

Maggie let loose another sardonic laugh. “Time was I would have called that a bold-faced lie. I have a lot to learn, Rand. I'm still deep in the woods, but I see a patch of light.”

“That patch will get bigger and brighter. Just keep your eyes open.”

Maggie laughed. “I always do.”

Rand bit into a piece of toast. She was beautiful when she laughed.

 

Sawyer loved the sweet smell of hay and the pungent odor coming from the barn. Of everything on Sunbridge, this was her favorite spot. It was a large milk-white barn with apple-red trim. From here she could see the studio with its southern exposure and vast skylights. It looked so neat and tidy, so empty, its inhabitants long gone. Even some of the memories were gone. If only time could stand still, just for a little while. Time to capture the memories and make them a part of oneself, so that just by closing one's eyes they could be relived.

Her eyes traveled lovingly to the gentle slope she had rolled down so many times to the house called Sunbridge. It was beautiful in the late-morning sunshine. Prairie pink, with the golden globe casting it in shades of light mauve and dusty rose. The windows winked at her like diamonds. There were secrets behind those panes of glass, secrets both joyful and painful, even shameful. Rand was behind one of those windows. What was he thinking?

She was startled by a noise behind her. “Cole, I didn't know you were here.”

“I'm not here because I want to be, that's for sure,” he said sourly. “Our mother seems to think I need the discipline of cleaning out this smelly place. Riley is going riding with Rand, if you're looking for him.”

Sawyer studied her half brother for a few moments, wondering how much, if anything, they had in common. She hardly knew him, but so far there'd been nothing to indicate he could be even remotely likable. “I used to do exactly what you're doing, almost every day, as a matter of fact.” She smiled. “It's necessary for their comfort and health, and in time you get used to it. I love horses.”

“I don't. I don't like to ride, and we have stablehands. Mother is just being nasty this morning.”

“Oh, why is that?” Sawyer asked nonchalantly; she couldn't help herself.

“I disgraced myself last night. I drank too much beer and it went to my head. Rand and Riley rescued me and Mother observed and is meting out the punishment. She's also more than a little ticked that I called my father in New York.”

“Isn't that permitted?” Sawyer asked curiously.

Cole squinted into the bright sunlight. “Under normal conditions she usually doesn't care, but this time I asked him if I could live with him in New York. He's coming here this weekend. Mother was a tad upset,” Cole said, smiling viciously.

“I had the feeling you liked it here. I know that we don't know each other very well, but it isn't because I didn't try. I want you to know that.”

Cole looked at his sister. He liked her, he decided. He'd always liked her short, on-the-mark letters—and she always sent the keenest presents. “I know,” he replied slowly. “I never had the opportunity to either like or dislike this place. This land was taboo when I was growing up. I wanted to come here, but Mother always wanted to go someplace else. You know what I'm talking about.”

Sawyer grinned. “Poor little rich boy. The kids used to call us poor little rich girls; Maggie, too. I had my share of cruelty. I was illegitimate. The names used to hurt. . . . I know how you feel, Cole, if that's any help.”

Cole didn't answer, but Sawyer decided he wasn't being difficult or remote; it was just that he was a boy, and he was hurting. “Listen, I have some hostility I have to work off,” she said. “If you get another pitchfork, I'll help. I was going riding, but I can do that anytime. We can bitch to each other about what a hellish job this is. What d'ya say?”

Cole smiled. “Wait here. I'll get the other fork.”

It was Cole's intention to let his sister do the bulk of the work, but when he saw her attack the job as if she meant business, he couldn't do less. They worked, sweating and grunting with exertion, in a companionable silence. When Sawyer declared it was time to take a break, they both fell back into a mound of straw.

“I'm out of shape,” Sawyer gasped.

“I'm hung over,” Cole grunted.

Sawyer burst out laughing. “I bet that really threw Maggie into a fit.”

“It sure did. She's got herself convinced that I'm into drugs, booze, and whatever else is out there. It was the only way I knew to handle that damn party. She wanted to show me off as one of the Colemans. But I'm not really a Coleman; I'm a Tanner. Then Riley showed up,” Cole blurted, surprising himself. He rarely confided in anyone like this.

“Ah, that must have been a little hard to take.”

Cole leaned on his elbow, a piece of straw stuck between his teeth. “About as hard for me to take as it is for you to see Rand cozying up to my mother.”

“Among other things, you're a smart-ass, too,” Sawyer said coolly.

“They're having breakfast together this morning.”

“Are you deliberately trying to hurt me?” Sawyer asked.

“Probably,” Cole replied. “She's your mother, too. Whatever she's done to you, she's doing to me in a different way. Our mother is a bitch.”

“And you and I are the good children, and she's out to destroy us. Is that what you're thinking?”

Cole flushed. “I didn't say that. But she falls a little short of being the perfect mother. Surely you noticed.”

“I've noticed. I didn't know that it carried over to you, though. I'm sorry about that. You see, I had Grand. You didn't even have that.”

Cole jumped up. “Don't feel sorry for me.”

Sawyer noticed Cole's white-knuckled grip on the pitchfork. “No way, kid,” she said lightly. “You're going to have to grow up the way the rest of us did and make the best of it. Let me give you one little piece of advice, though. Colemans don't snivel, and they don't buckle under. In public, that is. Since you're half Tanner, you're going to have to make your own decisions.” Sawyer stood up. “Let's get back to work before I cool down and have to work up another sweat.” Sawyer put her arm around her brother and then clapped him on his thin shoulder. Cole responded by leaning into her a little. Sawyer felt pleased.

An hour later Cole leaned on his pitchfork and said, “Hey, I'm sorry about that crack I made about Mother and Rand.”