Texas Sunrise (12 page)

“Has it occurred to either of you,” she stage whispered to her mother and her aunt, “that Ivy acted strangely at the airport and on the drive here? It wasn't just my sudden appearance either. Or yours, Maggie. Ivy's cool, she can handle just about anything. She even said she more or less expected you, Maggie. She was so quiet, and I had to practically pull tidbits about Moss out of her. If there's one thing a mother likes to do, it's talk about her kids. She didn't have to drop us off by the door and park the car. We could have walked together from the lot. Something's wrong.”

“Of course something's wrong. Cary is hurt. That's why we're here,” Maggie said as a young nurse went by carrying a tray of medication. “I liked it better when they wore those starched caps,” she muttered. “I think Ivy is just tired. Riley's gone, the baby takes a lot of care, and here we all are.”

“That's just it. Ivy doesn't ruffle. She's ruffled now, though. What do you think, Susan?”

“Maybe she has PMS. In the scheme of things, does it really matter if Ivy is out of sorts? She picked us up and brought us here, so why don't we just drop it at that? When she joins us in the waiting room, we can all ask her what's bothering her. Come on, I'm anxious to see Cary and Mam,” Susan said.

“Let's take bets,” Maggie whispered. “I say Mam is wearing something in ... ah, let's see, bright purple. Purple is a spring color. Lace too, maybe on the collar. Five bucks.”

“Yellow,” Susan said smartly. “Butter-yellow, green accessories.”

“Navy-blue-and-white polka dots,” Sawyer quipped. Her mother and aunt hooted as the trio moved down the hall.

They were all familiar with the rules of ICU. Maggie led the way to the waiting room, as visiting was limited to ten minutes on the hour. Maggie was almost giddy with the knowledge that she was going to see her mother. Her step slowed as she approached the doorway to the small waiting room.

Three pairs of eyes locked on the sleeping form in the burnt-orange chair. Those same eyes swiveled as one to the hunched-over man with the folded hands. Maggie reached for the wall for support, Susan grappled behind for Sawyer's arm, but Sawyer was slumped against the opposite side of the door. Thad was on his feet in a second, ushering them down the hall.

“Tell me that wasn't Mam,” Maggie said in a choked voice.

Susan's world whirled around her. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. Cary ... Mam ... just when they were getting to
really
know one another. Oh, God, it wasn't fair. Why did these things always happen to her? Mam. She squeezed her eyes shut to see which person would flash behind her closed lids. Cary first and then Mam. Mam looked like Aunt Amelia before she died. Cary, I need you. How can I handle this? I'm not strong like the others. I need to lean on someone. I need you to tell me this is all going to be all right. She wanted to cry, to throw a tantrum, but if she did that, Maggie or Sawyer would slap her silly. She bit down on her lower lip.

Sawyer cried quietly into a wadded-up hankie. “I can't handle this,” she sobbed.

“Well, you all better handle it,” Thad said huskily. “Billie, against my advice, chose to ... to keep her illness from all of you to spare you anguish. When she should have been thinking of herself, she was thinking of you. I didn't want her to come here, but her sense of family is so strong, I knew she'd find a way to get here even if she had to crawl. If you're going to go in there weeping and wailing, I'm taking Billie back to Vermont. I won't have any of you causing her one moment's distress. I mean it,” he all but thundered.

“Are you saying you want us to act as if nothing is wrong?” Maggie whispered. “Our world has just crumpled and you want us to act as if nothing is wrong? That's not right.”

“I want to hit her,” Susan said through clenched teeth. “She can't . . . she can't die. I don't want her to die.”

“Will you shut up, Susan, and think about someone besides yourself,” Maggie said tightly. “Sawyer, get hold of yourself. We have . . . we have to agree now how we're going to handle this. We came here for Cary. He needs us.”

“I want to go home,” Susan wailed. She turned and ran down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her. Ivy, coming down the hall, stiff-armed her, throwing her off balance.

“I can't even go home, damn you. My home is yours now, yours and Riley's. God, I hate you,” Susan screamed.

Ivy swayed, her stomach lurching sickeningly. She was aware of shadowy forms in the hallway as she tried to take control of her emotions. She took a deep breath, then literally dragged Susan around the corner and out to the lobby, and from there out the huge double glass doors.

“Get hold of yourself, Susan,” Ivy said sharply. “Let's take this outside.”

“Damn you, you should have told us. I thought you were part of this family. You're goddamned living in
our house,
so that must make you family. You should have told us, prepared us. But you didn't have the guts, so you parked the car and let us walk . . . oh, damn you!”

Ivy gulped in more fresh air. “This is exactly why your mother didn't tell you. Now, I think you'd better get yourself together, Susan, because if you don't, I'm going to slug you right here. This is a time when family needs to come together. As for the house, we'll talk about that later—at length if you want.”

“I never took the time . . . or had the chance. It's too late for me. I was just talking to Mam. I was so nasty, so unkind. God, I didn't know . . . Cary ... we came here for Cary. I didn't mean those things I said, I was trying to punish Mam ... I do love her . . . even if . . . I'm always too late, after the fact. It's like I burn my bridges too soon. Why is that? What's wrong with me? If Cary was here, he'd know what to say to me.... We're not even thinking of Cary now. That isn't right. God must be punishing me,” Susan cried.

“It's never too late to make amends,” Maggie said, putting her arms around her sister. “It's when you don't try that it becomes a problem.” With her eyes, she thanked Ivy.

“Let's all head for the bathroom,” Sawyer said in a shaky voice. “I, personally, have three pounds of makeup in my carry bag, and I think we could all use a little repair work.”

“
She
said she would slug me,” Susan dithered.

“If she hadn't, I would have,” Sawyer said callously. “It's time to grow up and face the world, Susan. Mam and Cary need us.”

Ivy would have hung back, but Maggie drew her closer. “Don't you ever, ever for a second, think that you don't belong to this family. You do, and if I ever see you with that look on your face again, I'll slug
you
.”

Ivy smiled gratefully, her arm linked in Maggie's.

The house was palatial, and Riley thought it beautiful,
but not as beautiful as Sunbridge. The huge wrought-iron gates that shielded it from the busy thoroughfare rolled open with barely a squeak as he and Cole drove up.

What if he got locked in and Cole refused to let him leave? The top of the fence was electrified; how the hell would he get out? God, what if he never saw Ivy and little Moss again. He started to sweat.

Cole watched his cousin, correctly interpreting his thoughts. He reached into the gate house and handed over a key. “All you have to do is open it and you're free.”

“You always could read me, Cole,” Riley said softly.

“And you me. It doesn't matter if you're East and I'm West. Ah, I see you're West now. That's okay, Riley. You're who you are and I'm who I am. Actually I think both of us are more or less straddling the middle ground here. The real truth is we're just people. Cousins. Can we let it go at that?”

Riley fingered the key for a moment. It felt good in his hand, somehow comforting. He handed the key back to his cousin, who merely shrugged.

“It looks the same,” Riley said coolly. “It shouldn't look the same. Change . . .” He let his voice trail off as a gaggle of children, twelve of them, his nieces and nephews, rushed out the front door. As he got out of the car he found himself blinking as they bowed and tittered. He knew all their names; he'd studied the family pictures on the flight over. He called them now by name and smiled. He was Uncle Riley, so he played the part, and he liked his role. When the children straggled off, bickering among themselves, Sumi waddled out the door.

She was tiny and very round. He smiled again when he saw his cousin's face light up.

Cole withdrew a small package from his pocket. “Your present,” he said with a flourish.

Sumi giggled. “Mexican jumping beans.”

“No, no, no. You drop them in hot water and little spongy animals appear. Look, a present is a present,” Cole said loftily.

“I shall treasure it always.” Sumi continued to giggle, her dark eyes dancing. “Riley, how wonderful to see you again,” she said, doing her best to hug him. “Ivy called. She said you and Cole are to get in touch with her as soon as you can. She called from a pay phone.”

“Ivy called from a pay phone?” Riley repeated in dismay.

“Person to person.” Sumi smiled. “I didn't take the call. One of my sisters did and wrote down the message. I tried to call back, but Jonquil said Ivy was out, and that she was baby-sitting. That's all I know, Riley.”

“We'll call, but first we need some food,” Riley said. “In the garden, okay, Sumi? And you are to join us. None of these Japanese traditions that the men eat together while the women giggle behind the door.”

“I would love to join you, but I must go to town. I have an appointment with my obstetrician. My sister is driving me. We'll visit later. Go, go,” she said, making shooing motions with her hands. “My sisters will make tea and sandwiches.”

“You're all screwed up, as usual,” Cole said, patting her rump. “Make it Sapporo and liverwurst with raw onion on rye bread. We have an American here who doesn't like Japanese food.” He made gnashing sounds with his teeth.

Sumi snorted. “This is what
he
eats every day. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get rye bread? We have to
make
it for him. Fresh. Every single day. We love doing it.” She grimaced.

“Ivy walked the same way. Back home we call it the Sawyer waddle. I overheard Sawyer telling Ivy she had to walk like that so people really would believe she was pregnant. She said a protruding stomach didn't count,” Riley volunteered. “Sometimes I think your sister is weird, Cole. The twins are just like her and they drive her nuts. Ivy said she's a wonderful mother, so I guess that's all that counts.”

Cole nodded. He didn't want to talk about babies, his sister, or duck waddling.

“Let's walk in the garden. It will take Sumi's sisters at least ten minutes to get our food and beer out here. It will be interesting to see if it disappears.”

Riley snorted. “My grandfather didn't like liverwurst and raw onion.” He fell into step with his cousin. “You know, this must be the most peaceful place on earth. As a child I thought so. When I brought my grandfather back here for the last time when I made my decision to stay in Texas, I came out here hoping somehow I'd gain ... insight, wisdom, something that would tell me I was making the right decision. I cried. I thought we were all going to live happily ever after. Crazy, huh?”

Five minutes later, in the garden, Cole said, “Shhh. Listen. Okay, the food is out. Come on, I'm going to prove something to you, Riley. I'm going to lock the door from the outside. We both know there's only one entrance to the garden. No other exit. Do we agree on that?”

“Yeah,” Riley said, pushing his cap back on his head. He should be calling Ivy instead of playing games with Cole. He watched Cole throw the shiny new brass bolt on the garden side of the door to lock it.

On the glossy black lacquer tray, which had been set on the white iron table, were four sandwiches, two bottles of Sapporo beer, a plate of rice cakes, a small bottle of sake, a yellow rose with delicate petals in a tiny vase, a pair of linen napkins, and two Havana cigars.

Cole clipped both ends of the Havanas, handed one to Riley, and lit them with his gold Dunhill lighter. The cousins puffed until the ash on both cigars glowed. Cole placed his at one end of a huge onyx ashtray. Riley placed his at the opposite end. He felt silly as hell, though his cousin's face was dead serious.

“What now, Sherlock?” Riley said tightly.

“We take a walk,” Cole said.

As they moved away from the table, Riley looked over his shoulder. He didn't sense anything unusual. He wondered if his cousin was having a nervous breakdown.

“Keep your eyes on the path,” Cole went on, “and observe that there is not a twig, a leaf, or a pebble on this path. It's clean. You wait, you're going to see cigar ash all over the place. There's no wind, no breeze.”

“Cole, I know how you felt about my grandfather, but I do not believe he's here. His spirit, his soul, whatever, is at rest. Ask yourself why he would come back here. Such things don't happen.” How desperate I sound, Riley thought.

“Then how do you explain the time Sawyer was in the hospital and we heard the angels sing? Even the doctor said he heard it.”

Riley shrugged. He'd never come to terms with the angels singing. As the two men walked slowly through the extensive garden, Riley thought about it. He'd heard what sounded like angels. So had his aunt Maggie, Cole, and the surgeon. Cary said Amelia's spirit was always with him, pointing out right and wrong and making chandeliers tinkle. He'd seen that too. He found himself shivering.

“Cole, we should be going back. I have to call Ivy. There may be something wrong. Otherwise, why in the world would she call from a pay phone?”

“Maybe the phones went out. It used to happen all the time, don't you remember? Then one of us would have to go into town and notify the phone company.”

Cole was probably right, Riley thought. The phones had gone out twice in the last two months. Ivy had probably gone to town to call him so that he wouldn't worry if he tried to call home. He should have called her from Guam, he thought guiltily. “How long have we been out here?”

“Twenty-five minutes. Maybe you should call out to him.”

Riley would have laughed if his cousin's expression hadn't appeared so miserable. But then the fine hairs on his neck started to prickle, and a chill raced up his arms. His eyes dropped to the footpath.

Cole's fist shot in the air. “I told you,” he said, pointing to the little pile of ash to the left of their feet. “That ash wasn't there when we walked this way before.”

Cole ran down the path back to the little patio, with Riley at his heels. He triumphantly pointed to the onyx ashtray, where only Riley's cigar now smoldered. Half of one bottle of Sapporo was gone, and the tiny sake bottle was completely empty. One rice cake was missing. The napkins remained undisturbed, and the brass bolt was still in place.

“Now do you believe me?” Cole demanded.

Riley shivered. “Where's the cigar?”

“How the hell do I know? I was with you, remember?”

Riley sprinted down the path, poking and prodding every miniature shrub and bush that came within his line of vision. When he reached the small footbridge from which his grandfather loved to view the garden, he took a deep breath. He knew when he lowered his eyes he was going to see the remains of a mangled cigar. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He swallowed hard. Then forced himself to look down, and there it was, two inches of mangled pure Havana. He found himself growing light-headed, and would have fallen but for Cole's strong arm.

“What does he want?”
Riley whispered.

“I don't know,” Cole whispered back. “You ask. You knew to come to this bridge. Maybe he wants us together.”

Riley stepped slowly onto the bridge. When he arrived at his grandfather's favorite spot, he whispered, “Tell us what you want. We don't know what to do. Is it the deal with Sawyer? Grandmam Billie? Cole and me? Wait, wait, let's do it one at a time.”

But there was no time to wait. Suddenly a furious wind roared outside the walls of the Zen garden. It ripped up and over the wall, feeling almost as strong as the tornado that had leveled Sunbridge.

“Get down,” Riley shouted.

All about them the ageless trees and shrubs were uprooted and tossed like twigs. When it was over, the only things remaining untouched were the footbridge and the discarded Havana cigar at their feet.

“All of the above,” Riley said softly.

“Jesus. Why would he destroy this? He loved this garden. He told me once he wanted to die here but it would cause unhappy memories for his family and that's why he chose the cherry blossom hill. He loved this garden. Nah, he didn't do this. That was a freak. That was some—What do you mean, all of the above?” Cole asked in a shaky voice.

“I asked him if it was Sawyer, Grandmam Billie, and you and me. That's when the ... whatever the hell it was hit. Do you have any idea how much those iron pagodas weigh? Hundreds of pounds, at least. Look where they are, all over the damn place. He must be in a hell of a snit to uproot those banzai trees. They're hundreds of years old. It's totally destroyed. I think we should decide
right now,
just the two of us, if we believe my grandfather did this or if this was some . . . fit of nature.”

There was such disgust on Cole's face, Riley found himself wincing. “I guess I know what your vote is. As much as I hate to admit it, it
was
my grandfather. I don't think we should . . . you know, tell anyone. Who the hell would believe us?”

The cousins sat together, arms wrapped around their knees, their shoulders touching.

“What does it all mean, Riley?” Cole asked softly.

“I don't know. The Sawyer thing I can figure out. I guess you're supposed to hand over the money with no strings. As for Grandmam Billie . . . she's the head of the Coleman family, just the way my grandfather was head of this family. Maybe she's going to step down and hand the reins over to Aunt Maggie. She already turned Billie Limited over to your mother. As for you and I, I was prepared to go to the wall with you. I would have, Cole.”

“I know. I would have let you win, too,” Cole said softly.

“You always were a softie, cousin.”

“Look who's talking,” Cole said, thumping his cousin on the shoulder.

“Come on, we have to protect the roots of the banzai trees. See that one over there by the pagoda? It's eight hundred years old.” Riley ripped at his shirt and light jacket. Cole did the same. When they had the roots bundled, they were shivering in their jockey shorts.

Sumi waddled up the footpath, her eyes dancing devilishly at the sight of her husband and his cousin. “Should I call the gardener?”

“I think that's a real good idea. What did the doctor say?” Cole asked wrapping her in his arms.

“He said I'm about ready. One more week, he thinks. He gave me something new for my heartburn.”

“Wait a minute, how did you get out here? The door was bolted from the outside.”

Sumi held up a steak knife for her husband's inspection. “I just slid it through the crack in the door and wiggled it till the bolt moved. Someone should tell me what happened,” she said, eyeing the destruction all about them.

“A crazy wind,” Riley said.

“Like a tornado,” Cole said.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Sumi giggled. “This garden has been through many storms, as well as a war, and it has never been touched. When the Zen master planned this garden, he said it would last till the end of time. My father did this, didn't he? Somehow, some way, he ... so you made a believer out of me,” she said, tweaking her husband's cheek. “Besides, no one but the owner of the garden can change it, remodel it, or dismantle it. Ask Riley. Old Japanese proverb.”

Cole looked at Riley. Riley looked at Sumi. He shrugged.

“See, I'm always right.” Sumi smiled.

As Cole and Riley trekked down the hallway to the bedroom side of the house, they heard titters and laughter. Cole knew Sumi was egging her sisters and nieces on. He heard them making comments about nice buns and Chippendale bodies.

“Jesus,” Riley said, after ducking into the first bedroom he came to. “When I left here, the aunts and nieces would never even raise their eyes. What the hell did you do to them?”