Best Kept Secrets (33 page)

“Teresa Maldonado! She told me that you got her pregnant!”

Once M.J. ran out of things to throw, he came toward her. “Oh my God!”

M.J., her face streaked with tears, neatly coiffed hair falling
down around her shoulders, backed up until a wall stopped her retreat. “Do not blame him for what you’ve done. How can you do this to me, to us, to our children?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, M.J.”

She glared at the man she loved beyond description, Samuel seemingly aging before her eyes. “You promised me that you would be a faithful husband, but not only do you fuck another woman, but you also get her pregnant.”

“Don’t say that word!”

“What? Fuck! Why not, Samuel? But isn’t that what you did? Or did you make love to her?”

“Stop it!” he shouted.

Her eyes narrowed. “I will not stop until I’ve had my say. You’ve married her off to another man. Now I want you to send them away. Somewhere where I will never see that woman or the bastard she’s carrying ever again.”

Samuel felt as if a hand had closed around his throat, making breathing difficult. “But where, M.J.?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Anywhere but in West Palm Beach.” Cradling her belly with both hands, she moved over and sat down heavily on the bed. “I want you to move your things out of this bedroom.” She turned, presenting him with her back. “Right now I can’t stand to look at you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean, Samuel Cole. If I weren’t carrying this baby I’d take my children and leave you. And don’t you dare tell me I can’t take your children away from you, because I’m certain you wouldn’t want anyone to know that you’ve been breeding bastards. Now get the hell away from me before whatever I feel for you turns to hate.” Her shoulders shook; then came the sobs, the sound reaching down deep inside her, tearing at her heart and leaving her to bleed, unchecked.

Samuel turned and walked out of the bedroom where he’d shared his life and passion with his wife. Guilt tore through his
gut like a lighted fuse, a racing out-of-control fire. His wife had issued an ultimatum.

He had to send Everett and Teresa away to save his marriage.

1929–1947

West Palm Beach, Florida—October 7, 1929

E
verett knocked on the door to Samuel’s office, getting his attention. His teeth shone whitely beneath his mustache. “Kirkland, here, reporting for duty.”

Samuel felt his heart sink. It had taken him a week to formulate a strategy that would banish his best friend and confidant with little or no effort or fanfare. A series of telephone calls had put the plan into motion.

Forcing a smile he did not feel, he beckoned to Everett as he stood up. “Come in. How was Cuba?”

“Beautiful. It was very emotional for Teresa, meeting cousins she’d only heard about.”

Samuel approached Everett, rested a hand on his shoulder and steered him to the conference table. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“Talk to me, Cole,” Everett said glibly, taking a seat at the table.

Samuel sat down and stared at the gold band on Everett’s left hand for several seconds. “I’ve decided to open an office in Miami, and I want you to head it. You will be responsible for ColeDiz holdings in Costa Rica and Mexico. I will assume total control for Jamaica and Puerto Rico.”

Everett did not move, not even to blink. “Are you sure this is what you want?” A barely perceptible nod of Samuel’s head followed his query. Letting out a breath, he stared out the window. “I understand, Samuel. It will be easier on all of us if there is some distance between you and Teresa.”

“It’s not Teresa.”

“Then who is it?” Everett asked, his gaze swinging back to Samuel.

“M.J.”

“You told her?”

“No. Your wife did.”

Everett’s face was a glowering mask of rage. “When!”

“At your reception.”

“Shit!” The expletive exploded from the accountant. “Why the hell would she do that?”

Cradling his head in his hands, Samuel closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to…” His threat died on his lips when Samuel glared up at him.

“Do not,” he said softly, “do or say anything to her.”

A feral grin thinned Everett’s mouth. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that Teresa is my wife, not your whore.”

Samuel stared at the man who had become closer to him than his own brothers. But at that moment he wanted to smash his face. “Tell me now, Everett, if you want to move to Miami. Oth
erwise pack up your things and walk the hell out of here.” His voice, though quiet, held an undertone of cold contempt.

There was a pulse beat of silence before Everett said, “I’ll take what you’re offering.”

Pushing away from the table, Samuel walked to his desk, retrieving a large envelope. He returned to Everett and extended it to him. “I’m buying back your house. There’s enough in here to buy a very nice place in Miami. There’s also the name of a moving company who will come and pack up your belongings. I’ve included the name and telephone number of the agent of the building where you’ll set up your office.”

Everett took the envelope. His expression mirrored complete unconcern. “You did all of this in a week?”

“I’d do it all in a second if it meant saving my marriage.”

Tilting his head, Everett stared up at the ceiling. “How bad is it, Samuel?”

He knew Everett was referring to his relationship with M.J. “I’d rather face a pack of rabid dogs than deal with M.J.”

“Look, man, I’m sorry.”

“No, Everett, I’m sorry. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life.”

There was a lengthy pause. “I understand why you have to do it.”

The two men stared at each other; then Samuel pulled Everett into a strong embrace.

“Thanks, Kirkland.”

Everett forced a smile. “Don’t mention it, Cole.”

Samuel walked down the hallway leading to his wife’s bedroom. He knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

“Yes.”

Pushing open the door, he walked in. M.J. sat on a tapestry-covered chair in the sitting room, reading. She’d rested her bare feet on a matching footstool.

She’d broken her promise to him and had cut her hair. It had been her way of punishing him for his infidelity.

He met her questioning gaze. It was the first time he’d entered his old bedroom since the Kirkland reception.

“It’s done.”

That said, he turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

Pressing her head against the chair’s back, M.J. found no joy in the news that she would not be reminded that her husband’s mistress was carrying Martin’s and Nancy’s sister or brother.

A single tear slid down her cheek. A second one followed, then more. She cried silently for the end of something that would never be the same.

“Mr. Cole.”

Samuel answered the intercom. “Yes, Mrs. Harris?”

“Mr. Kirkland is on the line for you.”

“Please put him through. Kirkland,” he said when he heard the familiar voice.

“Have you heard the news?”

“I’m listening to the radio right now. You predicted it, Everett.”

“The banks are closed. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Blowing out a breath, Samuel nodded even though Everett couldn’t see him. “Yes. I’m all right. How about you?”

“I’m good. How much do you stand to lose?”

Samuel smiled. “Less than five thousand.” That was the projected amount needed to cover business expenses for the remainder of 1929.

“I will lose half that amount,” Everett said. “How’s the family?”

“Everyone’s good. How’s Miami?”

“Hot. There’s a lot of building going on, but it still looks like a swamp. Ramon and Silvia plan to move down before the end of the year.”

Samuel wanted to ask about Teresa, but held his tongue.
He’d convinced himself she was no longer his concern because she was another man’s wife.

The two men talked for another quarter of an hour, then rang off. They’d discussed October 24, 1929, which had come to be known as Black Thursday, a day of trading that caused panic throughout Wall Street and spread to other exchanges and markets.

ColeDiz had been spared because it was a privately held company, and systematic cash withdrawals had protected Samuel Cole’s fortune. The stock market crash and bank failures had plunged the country into an economic tailspin as President Hoover sought to use the power of his office to bolster the country’s financial system.

Reclining in his chair, Samuel anchored his feet on the corner of his desk as a wave of nostalgia hit him. He missed Everett, his financial genius, sharing in-depth discussions about the market, crop prices and tariffs.

He missed his friend, and his friend’s wife. What he could not afford to think of was the child whom he would never see or claim as his own.

West Palm Beach, Florida—February 27, 1930

M
arguerite-Josefina Cole opened her eyes for several seconds, then closed them again. “Did you see her?”

Samuel stared at his wife’s face, its pallor enhanced by the inky blackness of her hair. She’d lost a lot of blood. “Yes, I did. She’s beautiful.”

M.J. struggled to keep her eyes open. Her labor was long and difficult, as it’d been with her other babies. “Are you upset, Sammy?”

“About what?”

“Three babies and they all look like me.”

Sitting beside the hospital bed, Samuel leaned over and kissed her parched lips. “I don’t mind, darling. You’re a lot prettier than I am.”

She smiled. “Have you decided on a name?”

Samuel nodded. “I like Josephine. What do you like?”

“Juliana.”

“Perhaps we can give her two first names. Juliana-Josephine.”

“That’s too long. We’ll call her either Josephine or Juliana. Help me sit up, Samuel.” Anchoring an arm around her back and under her knees, he lifted her, supporting her back with several pillows. “Thank you.” She unbuttoned the front of her nightgown.

A white-clad nurse walked into the room, carrying a hospital gown and face mask. “Mr. Cole, you’re going to have to put these on before your wife can feed your daughter.”

Samuel slipped into the hospital gown and fastened the ties to the mask at the back of his head. Minutes later another nurse entered the room carrying a tiny bundle. She handed the baby to M.J., then turned and left, the rubber soles on her shoes making swishing sounds on the waxed floor.

He sat down again as M.J. unwrapped the baby, counting her fingers and toes. “They’re all there.”

“I just wanted to make certain.” She removed a full breast from her gown, putting the nipple close to the baby’s mouth. Within seconds the tiny girl closed her mouth over the nipple and began nursing.

Samuel sat, transfixed by the tiny dark-haired baby girl suckling her mother’s breast. He’d missed so much: sharing a bed with his wife, making love to her and watching her body change each advancing day of her confinement.

He’d sinned and his punishment was banishment.

He had his children, but along the way he’d lost his wife.

Samuel carried M.J. up the curving staircase a week after she’d delivered their second daughter, Josephine Juliana Cole. A nurse followed, carrying the baby.

Martin and Nancy, holding hands, stood at the top waiting for their parents and new baby sister.

Nancy pulled away from her brother, launching herself at Samuel’s leg. “Mama!”

M.J. smiled down at her. “Hi, baby.” Her voice was soft, weak.

Samuel tried shaking Nancy loose. “Let me put your mother to bed. Then you can come see her.”

“I want to see her now!” she screamed, tightening her hold on his trousers.

“Martin, take Nancy to your room.”

Four-year-old Martin tried to pull his sister away from his father’s leg, but was bitten for his efforts. “She bit me!” he wailed, staring at the deep impressions on the back of his hand.

“Nancy!” Samuel’s voice boomed like thunder, startling his wife and children. It was the first time they’d heard him raise his voice.

Martin’s dark eyes widened as he stared numbly at his father, while Nancy, who’d released his pants, shrank back in fear.

M.J. pushed against her husband’s chest. “Put me down.”

He complied, lowering her gently until her shoes touched the carpeted floor. Raising his arm, he pointed in the direction of their bedrooms. “Go to your rooms, and don’t come out until I tell you.”

“I don’t want to. I want to see the baby,” Martin demanded defiantly.

“Me, too,” Nancy said as she placed her hands on her hips as she’d seen her mother do.

M.J. nodded to the nurse, holding Josephine. “Please take the baby to the last bedroom on the right and put her in the cradle.” Holding out her arms to Nancy and Martin, she gave them a
pleading look. “Please go to your rooms. Mother will send for you as soon as I change my clothes. Then you can see the baby.”

She wanted to get off her feet and into bed before she passed out. She’d risked her health and life carrying and giving birth to Josephine. Her doctor, who’d warned her against having another child, wanted to perform a procedure that would prevent her from becoming pregnant again, but she’d refused.

After Teresa Kirkland informed her that she was carrying Samuel’s baby, M.J. had sworn an oath on her dead parents’ souls that Samuel Cole would never get her pregnant again.

Nancy and Martin hugged their mother. Taking his sister’s hand, Martin led Nancy to her room. He stood in the doorway to his, watching his mother and father for several seconds before he walked into his bedroom and closed the door.

M.J. leaned against the wall to support her sagging body. She glared at Samuel. “Don’t
ever
scream at my children again.”

Taking her arm, Samuel eased her off the wall. “In case you’ve forgotten, they’re also my children.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, Samuel. You forfeited the right to be a father when you slept with
that
woman. If you want to be a father, then be one to your bastard!”

Samuel wanted to shake M.J. senseless. “You asked me to send her away, and I did. What more do you want?”

The fire in her black eyes blazed like hot coals. “I want you to leave. I don’t need you. My children don’t need you.”

“We can continue to sleep apart, but I will not leave my home or my children.”

Raising her chin in a gesture of defiance, she stared down her nose at him. “Then I’ll leave.”

“With what money? Remember, when the banks failed you lost all the money in your name. Which means I’ve been paying for everything.”

M.J. felt trapped. She’d forgotten she had no funds on which to draw. “I’ll sell my jewelry.”

Samuel flashed a feral grin. “And who’s going to buy your trinkets? Perhaps you don’t venture enough beyond the walls of your palace to know that we’re in the throes of an economic depression. Millions are jobless, soup kitchens have been set up in some of the larger cities to feed the hungry, and those without homes are living in tents. I suggest you scrap your grand fantasy of leaving me. If you don’t want to be a wife, then be a mother.”

Bending slightly, he swept M.J. up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. The nurse stood at the cradle changing Josephine’s diaper. Samuel placed his wife gently on the bed before he walked out of the bedroom.

He’d prayed she would soften her stance after having the baby, but it was apparent she hadn’t. It was the first time since Teresa disclosed she was carrying his child that M.J. spoke of leaving him. And he was steadfast when he said he would never permit her to take his children from him.

He’d make her a prisoner before he’d allow that to happen.