Texas Sunrise (11 page)

“Absolutely. I want to hear firsthand how Nora teaches a dog to read. Don't you dare read another word! Did the hospital call? How long have you been up?” Thad demanded as he poked around the bread box for something sweet.

“I came down around five. The phone didn't ring. I made coffee, but I'd make fresh if I were you. Isn't this a pretty kitchen, Thad?”

Thad nodded. “You're going to cheat, aren't you?” he asked fretfully. “While I make the toast and coffee, you're going to read. I know your M.O., Billie.” He smirked with satisfaction when his wife slammed the book shut.

“Okay, Admiral Senator Kingsley. I closed the book. So there! It's half finished, Thad. I hate it when I get to the halfway mark in a good book. We only have one more of his to read and then we'll have read them all. Do you think I should write him a fan letter?”

“Why not?” Thad grinned. “You wrote one to Sidney Sheldon, Clive Cussler, and Robert Ludlum.”

“You forgot Tom Clancy,” Billie snapped. “I told him I didn't like parts of
Patriot Games
.”

Thad laughed. “I bet he lost a lot of sleep over that letter.” It was a game they played. Billie had always loved to read, but since her illness, she read with a vengeance. Most of the time, she read the novels aloud to him. Often she got so caught up in the stories that she forgot about her illness. He made a promise to himself that when he was alone, he would write a letter himself to all the authors Billie adored and tell them how much pleasure they had given her in her last months. He wondered now as he pushed the bread down into the toaster if he would really write the letters or if the thought was just something to make himself feel better.

“Thad, call the hospital,” Billie said.

She waited, her heart thumping in her chest while Thad called and identified himself. Her eyebrows rose when she saw her husband's mouth turn grim.

“Of course I'm immediate family. I'm his father. Now, how's my son? Fine, fine, I'll be there by nine.”

“Cary's father.” Billie smiled. “How is he, Thad?”

“Resting comfortably. The doctor and the ophthalmologist will talk to me at nine o'clock. They won't give out any information over the phone. I suppose that's good.”

“Whoa, that's too much butter, Thad,” Billie warned. “Remember your cholesterol.”

As if he gave a hoot about his cholesterol or his arteries. He scraped off some of the butter because it pleased his wife; he would never give her one moment of anxiety if he could help it. He layered on a thick glob of blueberry jam.

“Remember your triglycerides, Thad,” Billie admonished.

He didn't give a damn about his triglycerides either. He scraped off an inch of jam. “Now it's going to taste like shit,” he muttered.

“Sit down, Thad, let me do it,” Billie said, putting fresh bread into the toaster. “Give me that.” She reached for the cold toast and tossed it into the trash.

Thad grinned.

“You did that deliberately so I'd get up and make it for you,” Billie grumbled.

“It always tastes better when you make it. Like when you make egg salad and put those little seeds in it. I make it and it doesn't taste the same.”

“You're whining, Thad.”

“Say good morning, Moss,” Ivy said to her son. “My, you're both up early.” She looked everywhere but at Riley's grandmother. “The coffee smells wonderful. Jonquil doesn't get here till eight. Usually Riley and I rough it. I'll be glad to make breakfast—eggs, French toast, pancakes. We even have some of your maple syrup left from the last batch you sent.”

“Darling, you sit down. I'll make you breakfast. What does Moss eat for breakfast?” Billie asked with a catch in her voice.

“Mashed banana, and then I put some rice cereal in his bottle. I just have juice and toast along with a vitamin. I tend to eat a big lunch. I still haven't lost all my pregnancy weight,” Ivy said, fiddling with the suction toy on the baby's high chair.

Billie slipped into her seat across the table from Ivy. “Ivy, please look at me,” she said gently, in a voice that would have calmed a terrorist. “It's not the end of the world. Not yet, anyway. Thad and I can handle this. What we can't handle is having this family fall apart. That's the reason we ... we didn't mention my illness. Since my time is uncertain we ... we want . . . I don't want hovering, pity, or ... any of that stuff that goes with it. Can I count on you to help Riley through this?”

“Oh, Billie,” Ivy said in a choked voice, “of course I'll help him. It's just that he hasn't come to terms with his grandfather's death and it's over three years. I don't know what this will do to him.” There was such sorrow in her voice, Billie found herself reaching for Thad's hand under the table.

“This is life's way of coming full circle. I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep. You, Ivy, are in the same place I was so many years ago. You're a new bride here in a brand new Sunbridge, a house you and Riley built with the help of your neighbors. It's right that the circle should start again. I feel so ... so very positive about this.” Billie squeezed her husband's hand. He was feeling the same thing she was feeling, she could tell. He recognized the strength in Ivy's young face, saw the love in that same face for her son and husband. So like herself so many years ago. The sadness that welled in her heart was immediately replaced by the knowledge that the family would survive.

“What's our plan for the day?” Ivy asked. “Are we all going to the hospital? I have to pick Susan up at the airport, so why don't I meet you at the hospital. I'll give Moss his bath and Jonquil can take over from there.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Thad said, draining his coffee.

“Well, if it's good enough for Thad, it's certainly good enough for me,” Billie said breezily. “I do like it when a man takes over, don't you, Ivy?” She chucked the baby under the chin, her eyes misting at the cherub whose face was full of mashed banana.

“I'll bring Susan straight to the hospital,” Ivy called over her shoulder.

 

In the privacy of the bathroom, with Moss splashing and gurgling, Ivy let her tears loose. “Why?” she whispered. “We need her, we really do. I didn't understand about Mr. Hasegawa and I don't understand why You need Billie. Riley's grandfather did only good, just the way Billie does. Yes, I'm selfish and I'm sorry about that, but I have to think about Riley and the rest of the family and what it's going to do to them. Should I tell Susan or let her . . . How can I tell her? Help me, tell me what I should do. Is it my place to tell Susan about her mother? Do I tell Riley and Cole or do I mind my own business?” Oh God, oh God, she railed silently.

As she dried and powdered the baby, she thought back to the first time she'd met Riley's grandfather, Shadaharu Hasegawa. He'd been ill just the way Billie was ill. The family chose not to discuss his condition, and the frail old man tried to disguise his illness just the way Billie was trying to disguise hers by wearing fuller, padded clothing. The old Japanese had fought so valiantly, just the way Billie was fighting. Who was she to take matters into her own hands? Ivy asked herself. Yes, it was going to be hard to put what Riley called a happy face on things, but she could do it. So could the others. If it was what Billie wanted, she would play the part, and the others would have to do the same thing. However, it still didn't answer her question: Did she mention Billie's apparent illness or let the family see it for themselves? She buried her face in Moss's sweet-smelling neck, her eyes filled with tears. She hugged the chubby infant even tighter. Billie was right, the family was coming full circle. She wondered why the thought didn't make her feel any better.

 

When Cary awoke hours later, he was aware of a presence in the room. The voice was familiar, soft and gentle. Of course, it was Billie. And from a distance he thought he recognized Thad's quiet voice as well.

“We only have ten minutes, Cary,” Billie said, reaching for his hand. “Thad and I are here. Ivy went to the airport to pick up Susan. They should be here soon. The nurse told us Sawyer is on her way. Don't try to talk, Cary. We just wanted you to know that we're here for you.”

Cary struggled through layers of exhaustion to respond. It sounded as if Amelia's family were all coming to see him.

“I feel like shit,” he muttered.

“You look like it too.” Thad laughed.

“Open the blinds or pull the damn drapes. It's too dark,” Cary said.

“Oh, darling, we can't do that,” Billie said quietly. “You're in ICU and there are rules. It's dark because of the bandages on your eyes.”

It wasn't a shout, it was a scream: “Why?”

Ms. Baldwin, his private duty nurse, was at Cary's side instantly. “Why what, Mr. Assante?” she asked soothingly.

“Why are my eyes bandaged?” he demanded thickly.

“Because the doctor wants them bandaged. He was concerned that the light in here might bother your eyes. It's a precaution, Mr. Assante.”

Fear coursed through Cary as his adrenaline surged. He was almost wide awake now, aware of everything, of the way Nurse Baldwin smelled of antiseptic, and of Billie's sweet-smelling perfume, so like Amelia's. And then he was aware again of the pain in his arm and chest.

He tried to shout Thad's name, but it come out so weakly, he knew it was little more than a whisper. “Thad, what's wrong with me?”

“You were a little too close to a faulty detonator cap. That's what the EMS filed on your report. At first they thought you had second degree burns, but you don't. You were burned, though. That's the pain you're feeling. Your face took some of the heat, but you're going to be okay. Any plastic surgeon worth his salt can give you new earlobes in a heartbeat. You won't even need them if you let your hair grow.”

“Jesus,” Cary said, trying valiantly to lift his hand to check his earlobes.

“Cary, it was a joke. There's nothing wrong with your earlobes.” Thad chuckled. “I was trying for levity here. I guess it wasn't such a good idea.”

“What's wrong with my eyes?”

“I don't know, Cary. I haven't seen your doctor. I understand a call went out to the Wills Eye Hospital in Philadelphia and a well-known ophthalmologist is on his way. All you have to do is hang in there and hold up your end. Let the big guys take over, and things will be fine, I'm sure of it.”

Cary sighed. If it was anybody but Thad Kingsley telling him this, he wouldn't believe him. Thad never lied.

“Billie?”

“Yes, Cary.”

“I thought I saw Amelia. I swear to God. I've dreamed about her so many times, but this time it was different. I saw her. She was blocking my path and wouldn't let me near her. I begged her; I was crying, and she still wouldn't let me near her. Do you ever see her, Billie?” Cary asked fretfully. “You were closer to her than anyone.”

Billie drew in her breath. She wanted to tell him she saw Amelia all the time and that she was always beckoning and saying not to be afraid, but Billie couldn't, not in front of Thad. “Only in my dreams, Cary. You've been through a terrible ordeal, and you reached out to the person who was a constant in your life for so long. Darling, the nurse says we have to leave, but we'll be back later.” She reached for Cary's hand and brought it to her lips. “Rest, Cary. You'll need some stamina to hear all about little Moss's antics when Ivy gets here with Susan.”

Something was wrong, Cary thought. Her fingers were too thin. Her wrist too. Just the way Amelia's fingers and wrists were at the end. His hand held tight, his limp fingers trying desperately to grasp the twig-thin arm. His hand fell back against the white sheet when Billie ran from the room.

“Thad,” he cried in a tortured voice.

“Cary, if there was ever a time when I needed a man to talk to, this is the time. You have to get well, and goddamnit, you have to do it soon,” Thad said in a strangled voice. “We need you.”

“Ah, Thad, not Billie.”

“She doesn't have long. One oncologist said six months, another said less. It's uncertain.”

“I'd cry if I could. What can I do?”

“Get better and get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be out of here in a day or so. Everything is moving, and if the burns aren't too bad, they might let me go. You can sort of steer me around until they take these things off my eyes. How long are you staying?” He sounded exhausted.

“Mr. Kingsley,
” Nurse Baldwin said sternly.

“I'll be back later, Cary. Rest and take it easy. If you need anything, have the nurse call Sunbridge. We'll be here for a while yet. At least until you're out of the woods.”

Cary was asleep before Thad left the room.

 

Billie sat quietly in the burnt-orange chair in the waiting room. Her hands were folded tightly to stop the tremor that overtook her every so often of late. She had to prepare herself for her daughter's appearance. Sawyer's too. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps she should have gathered the family and ... And what? Announced her illness? Instead she was putting herself through anguish each time she saw a family member. Cary, sweet, wonderful Cary, had known. Oh, God, give me strength to handle this, she prayed silently. She dozed, her energy depleted.

 

They were so alike, mother, daughter, and sister, as they came down the hospital corridor. Beautiful, actually, if one paid attention to the interns' and orderlies' overt glances. Maggie was dressed in a multicolored A-line dress, which brought out the rich highlights in her dark hair and a bloom to her cheeks. Susan, in a sea-foam-green suit with moss-green blouse and a strand of Mikimoto pearls, contrasted sharply with Maggie's earthy look. Sawyer, never a fashion plate, was attired in a Liz Claiborne denim skirt with matching blouse. A three-inch brown leather belt rode low on her hips and matched her well-worn boots. Her long blond hair was tied in a knot on top of her head, in messy disarray. Heavy silver earrings dangled from her ears and matched the clanking bracelets on both arms. Her blue eyes were worried.