Texas Sunrise (20 page)

The cousins stared at one another. “It would seem,” Cole said carefully, “that Thad gave us our answer. Sort of. Now I have to come up with a solution.” He babbled then, nonstop, until he came to the part where he said, “Sawyer must have been my test, and I flunked. Cary stepped in, just the way your grandfather did years ago when the family was about to go down the tubes. Now I have to make it right. This is my second chance. I need your help, Riley.”

“I'm here. We need a great brainstorming session, and for that, we need a beer bottle in our hands.” He twisted the caps off two San Miguels and handed one to Riley.

Settled comfortably with their beers, the cousins stared unblinking at one another.

“What are you going to do about Sawyer, Cole? And when are we going to talk about Grandmam Billie?” He rolled the frosty beer bottle between his hands, enjoying the cool wetness.

“I'm still trying to accept what happened to Cary. My mother . . . I can't believe she . . . Jesus, do you have any idea of what Cary must have felt? I wasn't going after Mother to console her, but to . . . I guess I was going to blast her. I'm glad Grandmam ordered me to stay. I thought Rand would go after her, but he looked like one of those cigar store Indians. He's got a burr scratching him someplace. Cary is what's important now. He was so matter-of-fact at dinner. I couldn't handle being blind, even temporarily, and Cary doesn't know if it's temporary. Did you by any chance notice the little interplay between him and Aunt Susan?”

Riley grimaced. “I missed that, but Ivy saw it. She filled me in when we were checking on Moss. I can see them together. Maybe it will be just your mother running Billie Limited. Maybe Aunt Susan needs someone to nurture, someone who depends on her. She didn't have a problem in the world when her daughter was alive. I guess it has something to do with her going to live in England with Aunt Amelia when she was so young. Rand told me once that she never had a normal childhood and that music was her life. It's sad, if you stop to think about it.”

Cole set his beer down with a hard thump. “You want sad? I'll give you sad. This whole family is screwed up. It's the ‘outsiders,' to quote my mother, who have their shit in one sock. Thad doesn't have problems. Rand is on top of the heap. Adam is . . . Adam is about as perfect as you can get. Ivy and Sumi, they're in a class by themselves. Cary is one of those rare individuals who is totally giving, warm, and caring. He came through for Sawyer with no questions asked, just the way your grandfather did. It's us Colemans that are screwed up. Go ahead, Riley, tell me I'm wrong.”

“I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole,” Riley said, lining up his empty bottle next to Cole's. He opened two more.

“Does it ever get better? How do we get to that place Adam and Cary are in? God, how I envy the inner peace they seem to have. How, Riley?”

“My grandfather had that same inner peace. Grandmam Billie has it. I think Thad does too. I guess you just have to accept things for what they are. Isn't there some kind of prayer or saying about asking God for the strength to accept what can't be changed . . . or something?”

“I know the one you mean,” Cole said, pacing up and down the room. “I don't understand how your grandfather could be so peaceful when he knew he was going to die. And look at Grandmam Billie. She seems as if she's completely accepted her fate.”

“Listen, Cole,” Riley said, by now sounding slightly drunk, “this is a very heavy discussion, and we're on the way to getting fried, but to answer your question, I can only speak about my grandfather. Until Thad told us that story about Shigata Mitsu, I thought my grandfather was born a loving, kind man. If all Thad said was true, then my grandfather achieved that state of peacefulness by doing good. I bet, Cole, if you go through his personal accounts, you'll be in for the surprise of your life. Knowing him as I did, I bet he gave away more than he kept. Hey, I always feel good when I do something for someone. Remember that high we were both on when we gave Adam back his homestead? Does it compute?”

Cole nodded and lined his beer bottle up with Riley's. He reached into the bar refrigerator for two more.

“This last Christmas, Ivy decided we should not give each other gifts. Instead we made Christmas for six families. We went the whole nine yards: tree, decorations, wreath for the front door, food, toys for the children, gifts for the parents, and a promissory note to all six families to help them throughout the year. It was the best Christmas we ever had. I've never done anything like that before, have you?”

Cole shook his head. “The answer can't be that simple. Give and you get. C'mon, Riley,” Cole said.

“Forget the
get
part. It's the giving. It doesn't have to be material things. You gotta forget the gimme part. And I never said it was the answer to all of life's problems, but unless you can come up with something better, I'll stick with my theory.” Riley knew he was well on his way to becoming drunk as he watched Cole moving in slow motion.

“Thad said he and Grandmam are leaving tomorrow. That breaks my heart, Riley. There must be something we can do.”

Riley shook his head furiously. His stomach heaved with the movement. He sat perfectly still until his insides quieted. “We say, Good-bye, we love you, and if you need us, call. We keep our eyes dry and our voices cheerful. That way Grandmam will think . . . think we believe she . . . has a chance. It's what she wants,” Riley said mournfully. “It's that . . . giving thing again. It makes sense, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, it does. Thad said he would take Grandmam away if we didn't do what he wanted. He would too. I don't know about that dry-eye part. My eyes water a lot when it comes to this family. Grandmam's been our rock for so long. She's never failed us. Not once. You want to bawl now so she doesn't see us do it tomorrow?” Cole mumbled.

“Men don't cry,” Riley croaked.

“Who the hell said that?” Cole snorted.

“Probably Sawyer. Her tongue should get blisters.”

“You're talking about my sister,” Cole said sourly.

“Your half sister,” Riley said just as sourly. He wiped at his eyes. “She's okay. So what if she has a mouth like a truck driver and wears those . . . weird clothes and a ...” Riley struggled for the word he was searching for. “... a snood. She's always there for us too. She has a brilliant mind. She told me that herself.”

“She's a pain in the ass.” Cole hiccuped. “I didn't come through for her, and she won't give me a second chance, which makes me feel like shit. She won't bend an inch.”

“You
should
feel like shit.” Riley sniffed. “Furthermore, she lied when she said she would forgive you. Sawyer never forgives. If you don't believe me, ask Adam.”

“Naah, he always takes her side. He thinks we're wise-asses.”

“He thinks that because Sawyer told him we're wise-asses,” Riley said smartly. He peered at the double line of beer bottles. He tried to count them. They were neck and neck. He was searching his foggy brain for something witty to say to his cousin, when he saw Cole's shoulders start to shake. He stumbled his way over to the soft, deep sofa Cole was sprawled on. Clumsily, he put his arm around his cousin.

“Nobody told me it was going to be like this,” Cole choked. “I want to be a kid again.”

Tears rolled down Riley's cheeks. First my grandfather, then Aunt Amelia, and now Grandmam Billie. He wasn't sure who was trembling, Cole or himself. He clutched at his cousin's arm as sobs ripped from his throat.

They cried then. For the would-haves, the should-haves, the could-haves. Neither of them saw Thad, Rand, and Cary enter and quickly leave the room. Neither of them saw Susan enter and retreat from the room either.

A long time later Cole asked hoarsely, “What time is it?”

Riley squinted at his watch. “Almost ten o'clock. Why?”

“We've been sitting here for a long time. I need to make some decisions. I feel almost sober. Help me, Riley.”

“Sawyer isn't going to bend. That's a given: Were you serious about merging the families?”

“Yes. I wish I knew why I didn't do it sooner. That's going to haunt me forever,” Cole said, blowing his nose loudly.

“I don't think it's important anymore. Anything before this moment is ancient history. But if we don't go forward, we're lost. Now that we think we know grandfather's secret to success, we have to follow in his footsteps. Even if for some reason the giving . . . wasn't part of his success, I still think we should go ahead. We'll look into foundations. We could do a lot for the homeless. There's churches. I'd personally like to do something for animals. Buy a nature preserve somewhere, fund it so animals don't have to be destroyed. God, we could do so much.”

“What about Sawyer?” Cole asked miserably.

“Think about this, Cole. If it wasn't for Sawyer, we wouldn't be uniting East and West. She probably deserves our thanks.”

“Get off it, Riley. You're getting carried away. She'll hold it over our heads for the rest of our lives if we admit she was the one who brought us to our senses. You wanna live with that?”

Riley pondered the question. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” Cole said, “tomorrow we'll kiss her feet and make nice.”

He sounds relieved, Riley thought. “What about Cary?” he asked. “With this economy and his present condition, who in the hell is going to lend him money on Miranda? The memorial he's building to Amelia isn't even finished. It was a magnificent gesture on his part to fund the plane, but I don't think he thought it through. They'll kill him with interest payments. He could lose the place. Although we could do it,” Riley said slyly.

“Do what?”

“Take the mortgage. We can talk to Valentine Mitchell and see how it's done. Probably a dummy company someplace in New York, or maybe an English one. Cary will never need to know we're behind it. This way he'll never lose Miranda. You control the money, Cole, so once again, it has to be your decision.”

“We control the money. We shook hands on it on the way over. But what if Cary does find out?” Cole said, a frown building on his face.

“Then we say we're just two wild, crazy kids who got carried away with all that money. The bottom line is we protect Cary. That inner city is his life. You comfortable with this, Cole? The truth.”

Was he? “Yes. Jesus, I feel like I've been reborn. And the best part is, we have a secret Sawyer will never know. That gives us the edge.” He laughed uproariously. Riley joined in, slapping him on the back.

“Let's make some coffee and work off this drunk,” Riley said, teetering his way toward the kitchen.

“You make it, I want to call Sumi,” Cole said, lagging behind. “Riley?” Cole whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“You bet.”

Sawyer stepped out from behind the wide folding doors of the great room, a gleeful smile on her face. The little shits. She danced a jig and silently clapped her hands. Wait till she told Adam. An hour earlier, when she'd cried her eyes out to her husband, he'd said, “Don't sell those guys short, either one of them. Somehow, some way, they'll come through for you.”

When it came down to the wire, when it really counted, you could always depend on family.

Family.

 

Maggie lay in the darkness. Faint moonlight seeped through the vertical blinds. She had no idea how much time had passed since she'd run up here like a child to throw herself on the bed. She cringed now with shame at what she'd done. How could she have reacted like that? How? She rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. How careful she'd been to stay on her side of the bed. She knew, without having to turn on the light, that there wasn't even one wrinkle on Rand's side.

Rand was the reason she was here cowering like a criminal. Rand was the reason she'd blurted out that hateful word, “outsider.” It wasn't just Mam and her illness.

She flopped over onto her back. Ten minutes to twelve. She turned the light off. Earlier she'd heard footsteps in the hall: Sawyer's clumping boots, then Cole and Riley walking past her door. None of them had knocked, none of them had called her name. She was a pariah now. She'd heard Rand talking to Thad and Cary in the courtyard. The three of them had driven off together. She hadn't heard Susan, though. She'd counted on Susan to just open the door and whisper her name, but it hadn't happened.

Her face burned with shame and guilt when she remembered the way she'd pleaded, sobbing at her mother's door, begging her to talk to her, only to have Thad say, “Your mother doesn't want to talk to you right now.” Until tonight, no matter what, her mother had never, ever, refused to listen, to offer advice, to help make things right.

That was a separate issue. Tomorrow, today actually, she could attempt to make things right with Cary, to explain why she'd acted the way she had. She could explain to Mam. Mam would understand. Rand. Rand was the problem.

Maggie was off the bed the moment her head started to buzz lightly. She threw open the window, taking great gulping breaths.

Rand was her reason for being. She had no one else. Sawyer was in New York with her family. Cole was in Japan with his. They didn't need her, and that's the way it should be. Mam had Thad. Susan . . . would have Cary, even though neither one of them realized it yet. Riley had his family. Rand had his daughter, Chesney.

She'd picked up on the change in Rand during the days he spent in Minnesota with Valentine Mitchell. He'd always admired Valentine, had said so more than once. The two of them had been together in a cozy little house in the Midwest, working side by side, eating together, riding together in the car, having drinks in font of the fire. Rand did love a good fire. She could picture the two of them laughing, talking, sharing secrets of a sort. And then, over drinks, looking into one another's eyes and . . .