Texas Heat (40 page)

Maggie did.

 

 

Maggie lay in her bag bed staring at the dark ceiling. A clap of thunder overhead made her jump. She must have been dozing a little. She was about to get up and close the window when she noticed her door opening.

“Mother?” It was a hoarse whisper from Cole.

“Yes. Are you sick, Cole?” Of course he was sick. Sick in his heart and sick in his soul.

“No. I can't sleep. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Do you want to go downstairs and have some cocoa?”

“Yeah. Let's do that. I want some bright light. Did I wake you?”

“No. The thunder did,” Maggie replied truthfully.

Sitting in the brightly lit kitchen, sipping cocoa, Maggie watched her son struggle for the right words. She wanted to help him, but remained silent.

“Do lawyers lie? I know Dad's a lawyer, but do they ever say things that... that ... you know, they make up so their case is better than the other lawyer's?”

“That's pretty hard to do, Cole. They could get disbarred if anyone found out. Perjury is a very serious offense. Why are you asking? Are you worried about your father?”

“Father? No. What about that lady that was here tonight? The one who talked to me.”

“What about her?”

“Would she lie?”

“She works for the biggest and best law firm in Austin. They've been this family's attorneys since before I was born. No, I don't think she would lie. Why? What's the matter?”

“Everything they put down on those legal papers... They have to have real proof, right?”

“Yes, they do.” God, she was sick to her stomach. How must her son feel?

“That's what I thought. I guess I'll be staying on here until it's time to go to college. Dad doesn't need me.”

“I'm sorry. It's his loss, Cole. You have to believe that.”

“I wanted him to like me. I wanted us to go to ball games and do things.”

“I know. I used to want those things myself. My pap never had time for me, either. Mam tried, but I didn't give her a chance. I regret that now. I think your father loves you as much as he's capable of loving anyone.”

“He hates me. He only tried to use me to get what he wants.”

“No, Cole, you're wrong. It's me he hates. Not you. He used you and you used him. You have to accept that.”

“He was going to use Sawyer, too, and make me use her. I hate that!” Cole cried, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sawyer's going to die and I can't do anything.”

“That's not true. You're doing one hell of a thing by planning the trip to Hawaii. Mam was impressed when she told me all about it. I wish you had told me, Cole.”

“I thought you wouldn't let me do it. I didn't care; I was going to do it anyway. But you said she was off-limits.”

“We all say things when we're angry. I regretted it the moment I said it.”

“Then I can go?”

“Of course you can go. I'll be cheering you every step of the way. You make this the best, the very best time of Sawyer's life.”

“How sick is Sawyer going to get?”

“I don't know. Maybe God will be merciful and won't make her suffer.”

“What are you going to do about her?”

Maggie sighed. “It's all I think about, Cole. I'm going to ... I'm going to try and make things right between us. I don't know if it will work, but I'm going to ... to go to New York.... I have to give her some time to adjust to this crisis in her life. I'll go before you leave for Hawaii.”

“I want to know about Rand.”

“Yes, I guess you do. It's very simple. I love him. I sent him away because I thought no one would understand. I didn't steal him or snatch him away from Sawyer. It just happened. When he came here for the Fourth of July, he told Sawyer that he wanted to break off their relationship. He felt he was too old for her.... He's a fine man. I'm sorry he let me send him away. After it was too late, after he was gone, Mam told me I made a mistake. Cole ... wait here. I want to show you something. Make some more cocoa till I get back.”

Maggie raced up the stairs in her bare feet, her nightgown crunched above her knees. She pushed the small button in her desk and a secret door popped out. Her father's last letter lay there ready to be snatched up by her eager fingers. She slammed the drawer shut and loped down the hall, then took the steps two at a time. By the time she came back into the kitchen, she was breathless. If ever she was to get Cole, this was the time. She handed her father's letter to her son, and watched his eyes as he read. She could see his hands trembling much as hers were. When he finished, she folded it and put it back in the envelope.

“Keeping you here was the sunshine. Do you understand? Rand was going to make me happy. That's what it's all about.”

“You let him go. You sent him away. Yet, you'd fight for me. Why?”

“You're my son. My flesh and blood. I had to fight for you, for myself as well as you. The love, the feeling, I have for Rand is different. I could send him away because it was best. I'm sorry. I'd give anything to undo some of the things I've done in my life, but some things can never be made right.”

“I want to know about Sawyer.”

“Cole, it's four o'clock in the morning.”

“I want to know.”

“All right.”

They talked and talked and talked. When Martha walked into the kitchen at six o'clock, Maggie waved her away. At seven o'clock Maggie took Cole by the hand and led him upstairs. She settled him in the bright rust-colored chair in her room. “You aren't going to school today. I'll tell Riley not to wait for you. You're going to read these,” she said, handing him her box of diaries. “It's time for you to know who I am. Don't come downstairs till you finish. I'm going riding now. I'll see you later.”

Cole drew away from the box. “Mother, I don't think I want to read these.”

“I don't want you to read them, either, but you have to if we're ever to be mother and son. I'll send up some breakfast.”

 

Maggie slipped from Lotus's back and tethered her. She crept up to the grassy knoll, her face full of hope. “I think I'm on the way, Pap,” she said, crunching down. “I couldn't have done it without you and your letter. In a little while we're going to know how much Coleman is in my son. I took a big chance, and I don't really know if my gamble is going to pay off. Maybe I blew it. Rest easy, Pap; I'll be back.”

Lotus nickered softly and danced around in a circle, sensing her mistress's uneasiness. “Let's ride, Lotus.” Maggie leaned low, crouched against the horse's silky mane. The animal's hooves pounding the ground sounded like thunder in Maggie's ears. She gave the horse her head.

Riley peered from the school bus window at the lone rider thundering across the fields. He knew it was his aunt Maggie. He also knew something was going on. Cole was staying home... and not because he was sick.

 

It was one o'clock when Maggie climbed the stairs to the second floor. Her heart hammered in her chest. What would she see in her son's eyes? What would he say to her? She opened the door and entered the room.

It was empty. The diaries were piled neatly in their respective boxes. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. She hadn't allowed herself to think, even for a moment, that Cole would cut and run. He was her son; he wouldn't do that. She ran into the hallway shouting his name.

“Psst, shhh!” Cole hissed loudly, almost as loudly as his mother was shouting.

“Cole!” Maggie leaned against the door frame, her face drained of all color. Cole was sitting in the rocking chair giving Jessie a bottle of water.

“Jeez, I just got her to sleep.”

Maggie literally slid down the door frame till she was sitting on the floor. She waited.

Cole watched his mother for a few seconds. He knew she was waiting for him to say something. “You're one hell of a lady, Mam.”

Maggie rolled her eyes back in her head. “Don't swear in front of Jessie.”

Cole grinned. “So, you're one heck of a lady. I was trying to emphasize a point. Did you get it?”

“Yeahhh,” Maggie drawled.

“Where'd you go?”

“Up on the knoll.”

“Didja get any answers?”

“No. I just talk it out up there. The answers have to come down here. Welcome to Sunbridge, Cole.”

“You want to take this kid? She just wet my pants. Aunt Susan said I didn't have to worry about her nappies. That's her pants, right?”

“Yeah. Diapers. In England they call them nappies. Here, I'll take her.”

Cole smiled. Maggie smiled back.

“I'm going to school,” he said, heading out the door. “I have archery practice, and the coach kicks us off if we miss. I'll take the the moped. See you at supper.”

“Shoot one for me,” Maggie called.

“Shoot one what?”

“Arrow, you ninny. Go, go already.”

Jessie's diaper secure, Maggie laid her on her stomach. Her fist went immediately to her mouth. God, she thought, I have a son. I have my son.

She walked to the window. The sun shining down on Sunbridge was warm and golden.

She watched from the window as Cole rolled his moped out to the driveway. She saw him look up and around. He, too, was noticing for the first time how bright it was.

Sunbridge.

 

A dusty pickup truck rattled down the road, its bed overloading the springs until the rear license plate was only inches from the ground. It bumped to a halt and the driver, Ben Simms, rolled down the window and peered up at the wooden arch proclaiming the name Sunbridge. Callused hands jammed his worn straw hat farther down onto his grizzled head. He turned to the young girl sitting beside him. “Looks like this is it. Mind your manners now, gal. We need this job.”

She wanted to die, just die. At the last crossroads a ranch truck filled with workers had hooted and hollered as the Simms truck strained past them. And no wonder—they looked like a rerun of the
Beverly Hillbillies
. The only thing missing was Old Granny in her rocking chair.

“Luana, you hear me? We need this job and you well know it. Just sit there like the proper little lady you are and let me do the talkin'. When the missus talks to you, just smile and let her know you're willin' to work. Got that?”

“Yes, Pa.”

Ben forced the truck in gear and turned into the drive. He glanced at his daughter and was satisfied when he saw her running a comb through her long, sandy-colored hair. Sprucing up, just like her ma. Spittin' image of her ma, too. Luana dropped her comb and sat with her hands in her lap just the way he liked. She was a good girl, he thought, not like her ma. Trixie had been a wild one till the day he'd married her, and then she'd settled down some. But when Luana was six years old she'd cut and run with a farmhand, and he hadn't seen or heard from her since.

“I think we'll like it here, don't you, Luana?” he said enthusiastically. “Look out there at those fields. Hear tell they raise a good strain of cattle out this way. You seen it, ain'tcha? The sun with the single bar? Stands for Sunbridge.”

He squinted through the bug-spattered windshield, his wind-roughened features and square bristly chin strong and still beneath the brim of his hat. His caramel-colored eyes narrowed as they rode past outbuildings and stables and miles of white cross-fencing.

“This is some spread, ain't it, Luana?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“That all you got to say? Yes, Pa; yes, Pa. You sound like a broken record.”

“Yes, Pa.” There was an insolent tone in the soft, girlish voice that drew Ben's attention. Saucerlike brown eyes, a color deeper and brighter than his own, continued staring out through the windshield. When she felt him looking at her, she dropped her thick, sooty lashes demurely.

“You know I don't like you wearing them short skirts,” he growled, more for her lack of interest and insolence than for the skirt. He eyed her legs and the generous expanse of thigh. “What's these people gonna think, you dressed like that? Ain't no call for you to dress like some tramp. You sit in the truck while I talk business. Don't get out, you hear?”

“Pa, this skirt's the only one I got. Miz Halpern give it to me. You said it was all right; you said! There ain't no hem to let down.”

Looked like her ma and had a mouth like her, too. Trixie always had an answer. In another year or two he was going to have his hands full if he didn't come down hard on her now. “Then you should've worn long pants. Sinful. It's a sin to show so much of yourself.”

Luana snorted. She stared at her father, her eyes half-closed in the bright early-spring sunshine. She'd been practicing this expression from the cover of
True Confession's
magazine for weeks now; she couldn't wait to try it out on some real men. Pa was always saying this was trampy, that was trashy. Hell, yes. Pa was the tramp and she was the trash. But all that would change when she turned sixteen and got herself away from him and his preachin'. She'd head for the big city, and the first thing she'd buy was the brightest dress she could find and high-heeled shoes to match. She'd get fancy combs and do her hair up like in the magazines, and then she'd buy a whole bagful of Maybelline and go to town on her face. Big gold earrings and some bracelets, maybe even one for her ankle.

“You wearin' a brazzere, gal?” Ben said abruptly; breaking into her thoughts. “You know I don't like it when you're bouncin' around under your shirt. You're a good girl, and I want you to stay that way. You ain't gonna turn out like your ma.”