Texas rich (33 page)

"We have to try. Mother, don't you care?"

"Of course I care. But you're asking the impossible. I don't think Seth's influential friends can help him in this."

"I don't see why not. Seth's influential friends helped him send a Red Cross plane full of food to Hawaii," Billie said bitterly. "This is a little more serious and a lot more important. It's a question of Jessica seeing her daughter before she dies."

"All right, Billie. I'll speak to Seth. But I can tell you right now that he's not going to be able to do anything. There's a war going on over there."

"There's going to be a war going on right here if someone doesn't do something," Billie snapped. "Excuse me. Mother. I have a phone call to make and then I want to read to Jessica for a while. You know, it wouldn't hurt you to really take some time when you visit with her. Now that you're the mistress of Sunbridge, I would have thought..: well, never mind, Mother. I'll talk with you later."

Her little Billie was making demands! She never thought she would live to see the day. Agnes diddled with the spoon in her cup, clinking it against the edge. She would tactfully lead Seth into a conversation concerning his daughter and see what developed. Jessica wasn't dying. Or was she? Men had a way of not seeing what was right in front of their noses. This was something she was going to have to check out herself. Before she spoke to Seth.

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Billie watched her mother's performance later in the day. Jessica made the effort and rallied for a short time for Agnes's benefit, appearing alert and aware of what was going on about her. It wasn't until Agnes left that the frail old woman collapsed against the pillows.

Billie ran to her. "Jess, are you all right? Should I call the doctor? Lie quiet and let me get your medicine. Why? Why did you exert yourself like that?"

Jessica lay quietly for a long time, the transparent eyelids closed. When she finally did speak it was with an effort. Billie had to strain to hear the words. "It's expected, Billie. Your mother has grit. I admire that. I never had grit. Seth admires that in women. I couldn't let your mother see me at less than my best. Yes, child, it has cost me but it was something I had to do. Give me my medicine and I'll sleep. Why don't you go in to Maggie now. Spend time with your daughter, Billie. Don't make the same mistakes I made. Love her, Billie."

"I will. Swallow this down and I'll be back later to check on you."

"Bless you, child. I think sometimes you're more like my own daughter than a daughter-in-law."

"No one can ever take a daughter's place," Billie said softly. Jessica was already asleep, an unhealthy blue tinge on her lips.

Dinner that evening was strained. Billie ate with her eyes lowered, volunteering nothing to the conversation. She was about to excuse herself to take her dessert and coffee with Jessica, when Seth fixed her with his steely gaze.

"Aggie here tells me you think Amelia should be brought home. She tells me you think Jess isn't long for this world. Now where would a slip of a girl like you get an idea like that?"

Billie swallowed past the lump in her throat. "From Jessica," she replied coolly.

Seth grimaced. "I'm the first to admit that Jess looks a mite peaked, but the Grim Reaper's a far piece down the road. I can't be asking my friends for favor upon favor. How is that going to look?"

Billie stood up. "I imagine it's going to look the same way it looked when you sent two longhom steers to Hawaii for a barbecue to impress some top brass. Excuse me. Mother, Seth."

"You wanted backbone, you just saw backbone. I'd give this some real serious thought, Seth," Agnes said sofdy. "Some real serious thought."

{ 223 }

"Spunk, Aggie. I wanted to see spunk. There's a world of difference between backbone and spunk. Like Rhode Island compared to Texas, if you get what I mean."

Agnes sat up a little straighter in her chair. "I'm afraid, Mr. Coleman, that you're going to have to settle for backbone. Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way." Agnes tossed down her napkin. Seth was reminded of another time when she had done exactly the same thing. He watched her ramrod-straight back exit the dining room.

Tita asked permission to remove his dinner plate. "Fetch me a coffee and a brandy and I'll drink it here at the table," he ordered.

Bring Amelia home, he thought speculatively. Go to the top and ask for another favor. Too soon. Much too soon. Go straight to the Red Cross. Possible. That damn fool doctor hadn't indicated that Jessica was seriously ailing, but the girl sounded so positive. Too damn positive. He felt guilty for a few seconds. He should have spent more time these past weeks with Jess. Up there all alone, of course she would feel badly. Make more of her illness than there was. When you didn't have anything to do with your time but pray for all the sinners of the world, your mind was sure to come up with all kinds of terrible thoughts. Death was so goddamn terrible. It was also inconvenient as hell. For those left behind.

He made a mental note to get a letter off to the Red Cross asking them to help grease the wheels for Amelia. He'd write the damn letter himself. His daughter probably wouldn't even want to come home. All this damn fuss because of that little Yankee gal. Alt he'd wanted was a little spunk, a little grit, some starch to the girl. Well, he wasn't giving in; he was compromising. It was important that everyone understand that. He'd make damn sure they all understood, and the first person he was going to inform was Moss. He'd write him a long letter this evening. Spell things out a little.

He was in a foul mood now. The girl could do that to him without even trying. Sometimes when he just looked at her he would get angry. He could literally feel his blood pressure shoot up. Times like now. Then he remembered the sounds he and Agnes had heard coming from her room this very morning. His mood lightened and he started to whistle. He called for a cigar and another shot of brandy. * * *

{224}

The moment Billie stepped into the wide front hallway she knew something was different. An unnatural stillness seemed to permeate the very air. She found herself taking a long deep breath and holding it. What? Who? Maggie? Jessica? Never Seth or Agnes.

Billie released her indrawn breath with an explosive sound. She knew. She didn't need anyone to tell her Jessica was no longer a member of this earth. She knew.

She put her parcels and packages down on a cowhide-covered bench. There were two new mystery novels and a monstrous sack of licorice for Jessica. Jessica. Billie sat down with a thump on the cowhide seat, unmindful that the packages toppled to the floor. She didn't want to go upstairs. She didn't want to walk into that room where Jessica would be lying. Somebody should be about. Agnes, Seth, Tita ... or were they all locked away in their rooms, telling themselves that Jessica just looked a little peaked?

Amelia! Amelia could never get here in time. Moss. Moss might not get the news for days, possibly weeks. The ground would be cold, the rains would come, and it would be all over.

The climb up the wide circular stairway was the longest she could remember. Her grip on the mahogany banister was like a vise that opened and closed. The empty bed, the coverlet and sheet tossed back as though Jessica had gone to the bathroom, brought a wild look to Billie's eyes.

Maggie! Billie's step quickened. But Maggie was lying in her crib gurgling happily. The nurse was knitting in the rocker. Her eyes met Billie's.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Coleman. I know how fond you were of the elder Mrs. Coleman. They called me right away but there was nothing anyone could do. It was peaceful and quick. It was Tita who found her. Mr. Coleman was out on the range. Your mother was at a meeting. The doctor has been and gone." Billie nodded miserably. "I don't know if this will give you any consolation, but when I took Maggie in after her noon feeding Mrs. Coleman asked if I would lay the baby in her arms. I was right there. She stared at Maggie for a long time and kept saying over and over that she reminded her of Amelia. Before I took her away, she was calling Maggie Amelia and saying she was sorry. I think she knew she was dying. When her daughter arrives, perhaps you'll want to tell her."

"Yes. Yes, I'll do that. Thank you for telling me. I know

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it will mean a lot to Amelia."

Billie leaned over the crib, reached down for a colorful red rattle, and shook it gently. Maggie gurgled and kicked her feet. Billie reached out her arms. "Come to Mama." The nurse watched as Billie picked up her daughter and held her fiercely against her breast. "I'm going to try not to be like Jessica. ... I don't want to die alone," Billie whispered against the baby's warm, soft head. When the baby started to whimper, Billie kissed her and laid her back in the crib.

"Where are. the others. Nurse?"

"Your mother and Mr. Coleman are in the study. Tita and someone from her family are cleaning... what I mean is, they're getting..."

"I know."

Seth was standing next to the fireplace, in his hand a squat glass filled to the brim with bourbon. Her mother was sitting in Seth's chair. It didn't look right to Billie. She felt they should be doing something.

"Have you tried to reach Ameha?" was Billie's first question. When no one answered she tried again. "What about Moss?"

Seth turned to face Billie. There was a blank look on his face. "Not yet. I decided to wait until the Enterprise puts into port somewh^^. I don't want him flying missions with... Later, he'll be told later. When the time is right."

"Amelia?"

"I wrote a letter to the Red Cross some time ago. I haven't heard."

Billie stiffened from head to toe. "That isn't good enough, Seth. You have to do something now."

"There's nothing to do. She could never get here in time for the funeral even if she left for home yesterday."

"I can't accept that. You have to try. If you won't, then I will."

"Billie, please. Can't you see that Seth..."

Billie clenched her hands into rock-hard fists. "Stay out of this, mother. Seth, I'm going to call the Red Cross myself With or without your permission. You may be right about Moss, but Ameha is different."

"Billie, wait."

"Let her go, Aggie. She won't get very far. If she wants to strangle herself in red tape, let her," Seth said wearily.

{226}

"Shouldn't we be calling people, Seth?" Agnes asked hesitantly.

"No. We're going to have a private mass. It will be just us. She'll be buried here at Sunbridge. We'll put a notice in the paper next week."

"If you don't need me, Seth, I think I'll take a walk."

"You go along, Aggie. I'm fine. Tend to that daughter of yours."

It was two o'clock in the morning when the Red Cross returned her call. Billie picked up the receiver on the first ring.

"We found her. Now the problem is getting her on a plane. It's important but not top priority. I have to be honest and tell you I doubt that we can get her there in time, but we're going to do our very best."

"I'm so grateful. We all are. And if there's any other news, will you call me?"

"Of course. We're only too glad to help. I'm sorry we can't do more."

Should she wake Seth and tell him? Billie wondered. No. He wouldn't thank her for disturbing his sleep.

"Billie?" It was a soft whisper.

"Mother! What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I've been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you to get your call. I'm proud of you, Billie. I think it was wonderful of you to stand up to Seth and do what you did. I would like to think you would do the same for me. For the first time, perhaps, I have become aware of my own mortality. Now, why don't you join me in the kitchen for some hot chocolate? I've been keeping it on the back of the stove for you."

"I'd like that, Mother. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Like back in Philadelphia. I miss those times, Billie."

"You're always so busy, Mother."

"Yes, I know. Sunbridge is so wonderful and heady. Perhaps I adapted too quickly. I'm sorry about Jessica, Billie. Really I am. I know how much you cared for her."

"How is Seth taking this?" Billie asked coolly.

"He was shocked. He is shocked," Agnes corrected herself. "He's had a long and loving life with Jessica and now it's come to an end. I'm sure, Billie, he would have tried to get through to AmeHa once the initial shock wore off. He's very concerned

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about Moss, about not telling him. That's a terrible decision to carry around."

"And he's making me a party to it. How can I write to Moss and not let on? I think it's awful. I understand, but I still think it's awful. Moss should be told."

"It does place you in a rather awkward position. I'll speak to Seth later on. As I said, Billie, he's in shock now. He may look at things differently tomorrow."

"I hope so. I won't lie to Moss and I won't evade. My God, Jessica is his mother... was his mother. You know what I mean."

"Finish your chocolate and go to bed, Billie. It's late. Tomorrow is going to be very trying."

Agnes sat at the kitchen table for a long time. She drank cup after cup of coffee and it was bitter on her tongue. Billie hadn't yet mentioned a word about her pregnancy. How long did she intend to keep it a secret? By Agnes's best calculations it was already almost three months. The child would be bom sometime in Februar>'. Agnes blanched. Maggie would celebrate her first birthday in February. This would be physically trying for a healthy woman, one who hadn't had comphcations during her fu^t pregnancy. Agnes swallowed her coffee as though she were trying to push down her guilt. What was done was done. She hoped Billie would announce her news soon. Seth would feel so much better.

The small private service Seth had arranged for Jessica seemed to include half of Texas. And the other half sent flowers and telegrams and notes of condolence. Answering the door and the telephone kept Billie on the run.

Billie had never really dealt with the finality of death before. Her father and grandparents had died when she was too young to realize what was happening. Jessica had become a second mother to her, a more sympathetic and understanding one than Agnes, and Billie had come to love the woman dearly. She felt the need to creep off somewhere and grieve. Instead, she'd been asked to tend the door and the telephone.