“Toasty perfect,” Val said, snuggling into the crook of Rand’s arm. “How about you?”
“Val . . .”
“Yes?”
“Val, I ...”
“Yes?” Val said, snuggling deeper.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Don’t worry, I trust you. Be quiet and go to sleep. Do you snore?”
“With gusto. What about you?”
“Women don’t snore. Can we go to sleep now? We have to be up early.”
“It’s just that I’ve been thinking about us,” Rand muttered.
“There is no us, Rand. Get that thought out of your head. You’re a married man. That means you have a wife, and husbands aren’t supposed to cheat on their wives. Wives say . . . damn, what is it they say?” Val mumbled. She thought she was drunk. She giggled.
“Wives say all kinds of things,” Rand said. “All the time. Night and day they say things. They have opinions about everything. Sometimes they don’t have opinions and they use their husbands’ opinions and turn into clones. What do you think of that observation, Miss Attorney? Brilliant summation, eh?”
“Wives say . . . wives say to their husbands you can look but you can’t touch. So look, but don’t touch,” Val said, her voice suddenly full of inebriated hostility.
Rand frowned. “Now you’re mad. What are you so mad about?” Maggie never got mad. Maggie never even pouted.
“Who says I’m mad?” Val said, slurring her words.
“You look mad. You sound mad. I think you’re mad at the world. This isn’t one of your courtrooms. Unwind, loosen up. How about another beer? We have one left. Or we could open up the wine.”
“Wine. We should have candlelight. Wine and candlelight go together.”
“That’s only if there’s going to be a seduction. That would mean,” Rand said, struggling for the words he wanted, “you are the seductee and I am the seductor.”
“You can get that idea right out of your head, Lord Nelson. You are not going to get in my pants!” Val shrieked.
“Lady Lawyer, that statement dates you. Girls used to say that to me when I was seventeen. What does that mean exactly? How do you get in anyone’s pants? It would take me an hour to peel those jeans off you.” Rand guffawed and then tittered drunkenly as he slurped at the beer can.
Val wanted to cry and didn’t know why. She swung her arm wildly, knocking the beer can out of Rand’s hand. Suds shot in the air. “That was a lousy, unkind, nasty thing to say to me. I hate people like you. Get away from me, you’re married!” She crawled away, closer to the fire, picking up two of the pillows from the floor and hugging them to her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled, rubbing her nose on her sweatshirt sleeve.
“You look ugly when you cry,” Rand observed. He crawled closer.
Val hiccuped. “I’d rather look ugly than have an ugly heart,” Val said. “You have an ugly heart. And I hate that oh so veddy British accent of yours. It’s so damn ... affected. Don’t come any closer or I’ll ... I’ll ...”
“What?” Rand blustered. “Tell Maggie? She wouldn’t believe you. She loves me. She loves me so much she suffocates me. She’s made herself an ... extension of me. That’s true love.” He inched closer.
Val inched backward. She was afraid she was losing control. She didn’t like what she was starting to feel. A worm of fear crawled around inside her stomach, which had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d consumed.
“We’re crossing over the line, Rand, and I don’t like it,” Val said. “I’m going upstairs to sleep. I’ll strip the bed in the morning. I’ll get up early.”
Rand’s arms snaked out to grab her. She threw the pillow at him as she halfheartedly struggled to get up. She slid backward, then toppled to the floor, holding the remaining cushion against her chest like a shield. She felt herself being pulled forward gently. “I think we should think about this,” she whispered hoarsely. “Both of us have had too much to drink, and this fire is—”
“Intoxicating,” Rand said, tugging at her Levi’s. “We’re two people caught up in the moment.” His voice was full of excitement. “No one will ever know.”
“We’ll know,” Val said throatily as she felt her jeans slide down over her buttocks. Rand’s torso flattened her as his hands worked the jeans lower and lower.
Her weak struggles ceased. It had been so long since she’d been with a man. She forgot about Maggie, about the Colemans, and gave in to what she was feeling. Her arms reached up to circle Rand’s head, to bring him closer.
“I’ve wanted to do this since we met at the airport,” Rand said huskily.
“You talk too much,” Val said, and mashed her lips against his.
They played then like two lovers, teasing one another with their lips and gentle fingers until Rand thought he would go out of his mind. “I feel like a wild animal,” he whispered.
“Then act like one,” Val whispered in return.
He did, again and again.
“I think,” Val said, a long time later, “that was the best sex I ever allowed myself to have.”
Rand preened, drawing her into his arms. “I’ll second that.”
“We’re never going to do this again, are we?” Val said sadly.
“It probably wouldn’t be wise.”
Val thought his gruff voice sounded desperate. “It wouldn’t be the same. Nothing is ever the same after the first time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rand said, nuzzling her neck.
“I’m always right,” Val said sadly.
“I miss you already,” Rand whispered.
“Shhh.” Val placed her fingers against her lips. “Go to sleep and dream sweet nothings.”
“Don’t want to go to sleep. I want to make love to you some more,” Rand mumbled. “You’re a hell of a woman, Valentine Mitchell.”
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Val said, her voice raspy. Her eyes filled. A lone tear fell on Rand’s cheek when she bent over to kiss him lightly on the mouth.
It took ninety minutes for her to shower, wash her clothes, and pack. She walked out of the house and drove to the airport, leaving the car at the curb. She spent the remainder of the night staring into space until her flight was called at seven A.M. She flew into LAX and retrieved the Lamborghini.
Twenty-four hours later Val unlocked the door of her condo in Assante Towers. Only then did she collapse. She cried until there were no more tears left. Then she slept.
CHAPTER EIGHT
With little Moss on her hip, Ivy walked around the dining room table, checking the dinnerware and wineglasses. “It looks good,” she murmured to the baby. “The tulips look just right. Billie loves tulips. I love tulips. I think everyone in the world loves tulips. Your daddy is going to be here any minute, what do you think of that?” she crooned to the baby. “And Cole is coming with him. Everything is going to be just fine. Cary will be here too, in a wheelchair, but he’ll be here. Everything is going to be just fine. Just fine.” She knew she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying was really true.
She brought her lips down to Moss’s downy head and kissed him. How good he felt in her arms. Her flesh and blood, hers and Riley’s.
. “Hey, you’re snoozing on me, you little rascal.” She tweaked the baby under the chin, but the child was too weary to respond with bubbling laughter the way he usually did. Ivy sighed and headed for the stairs. “Guess your daddy is going to have to wake you up when he gets here.” Ivy’s touch was almost reverent. when she laid Moss in the crib. She smiled when his thumb went into his mouth, his other chubby hand groping for his whuppie. “God, Moss, I don’t know if I love you more or as much as I love your daddy.” Ivy’s heart swelled with love, her eyes filling with tears of happiness.
Billie joined her in the baby’s room. “He’s so beautiful,” Billie whispered. “How blessed you are, my dear.”
“I know,” Ivy said.
“I used to get all
teary when I put the children to bed. It’s one of my fondest memories. Sometimes when . . . things aren’t going well for me, I turn my memory back and ... what I do is, I ... I try to remember things in chronological order. I even write them down, and when I have another restless period, I start from the beginning and add a few more memories. At the moment, I’m up to the time when Riley Senior left to join the service. I was still married to little Moss’s grandfather then. It wasn’t a good time for me,” Billie said sadly.
Suddenly Ivy found herself in Billie’s arms. Neither woman knew who was comforting the other.
“It’s going to be all right, Ivy. Things are a bit unsettled right now, but like Amelia used to say, life’s road has to be a little rocky, otherwise one becomes placid and takes it for granted.”
Ivy sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt.
“Darling, close the door. I need to talk to you about something.”
Ivy perched on a huge red building block while Billie settled herself in the wicker rocking chair. “I need you to do something for me, Ivy. I can’t ask the others . . . because . . . I don’t think they would be able to. Thad will be the worst. Cary was my first choice, but I changed my mind, not because of his accident, but because . . . I’m babbling, Ivy, because I’m afraid you’ll say no. Please, darling, hear me out and think about what I’m going to ask you before you give me your answer. And Ivy, I want this kept between us. For now. I don’t want you to tell Riley. I know it isn’t right of me to ask you to keep something from him ... dear God, I’m going around the bush, aren’t I?”
Ivy smiled wanly, her heart thudding madly in her chest. She watched as Billie withdrew a small square package from the deep folds of her skirt. Without hesitation she reached for it, her eyes full of questions.
“It’s my living will, Ivy,” Billie said briskly. “I need your assurance that you will do what I want. Thad and my family, they won’t be able to. I chose you because you remind me in so many ways of myself at your age, although I do believe you have more guts. Will you do it, Ivy?”
Ivy didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to analyze or rationalize. She nodded numbly. Behind her, Moss stirred. Automatically, Ivy reached back to rewind the music box on the colorful mobile hanging over the crib. Mary had a little lamb. She cleared her throat. “What . . . I mean, what is in this tape? When do you want me to ... to look at it?”
“Why not right now? You have a VCR and television set in your bedroom. Perhaps it will be better if we look at it together.” She was still whispering, her eyes clouded with worry.
In her bedroom, Ivy slid the tape into the VCR and turned down the volume. She turned to lock the door before she sat down on the bed next to Billie. She couldn’t ever remember being this cold, this numb. Billie squeezed her hand. There was strength in Billie’s hard, dry grasp. Ivy didn’t want to look at the television screen, but knew she had to. As she watched, she cleared her throat again and again. Five minutes later she pushed the eject button and slid the tape back into the case. She carried it across the room to bury it deep in her knitting bag. She felt like a trapped animal.
“You’ll give me your answer tomorrow, Ivy?” Billie asked anxiously.
“I don’t need to think about it, Billie,” Ivy said, returning to the bed. “I don’t need a night to sleep on it. If it’s what you want, if you’re sure, if you have no doubts at all, I’ll do it. Yes, I can handle it. I don’t want you worrying about me now.” Her arms went around the frail woman. She wanted to hug her hard, squeeze her, to breathe her own precious life into Billie’s frail body. She felt as protective of Billie as she did of Moss.
“Will you do one other thing for me, Ivy?”
“If I can.”
Billie bit down on her lower lip. “Once in a while, when you aren’t too busy, will you go up to the hill and kind of ... tell me what’s going on? Bring me up to date on everything. I’ll want to know about Moss, Katy, and Josie. Not right at the beginning, but later on. Amelia and I will be busy catching up. Will you do that for me?” Billie’s eyes were misty with tears.
Ivy broke down again, and Billie cried against her shoulder.
“This is my last tear,” Billie said firmly, reaching for a wad of tissues on Ivy’s night table. “In the beginning all I did was cry, wail, and moan. I wanted to be strong like Amelia was. Amelia was so much more to me than a sister-in-law. She was the best friend I ever had. I loved her as much as Cary did. I’ve been praying to God, asking Him to give me the same strength He gave Amelia. There are times when I feel He’s listening to me, like right now, and then there are times when I feel He’s too busy to bother with me. I guess that’s wrong. Either one believes or one doesn’t. Amelia told me never to bargain with God, so I don’t. Just be kind to our family, Ivy. Time to go downstairs now. The others will be gathering. I’ll go ahead. I know you want to check on Moss. Thank you, Ivy,” Billie said as she hugged the young woman once more.
Ivy didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded. In the adjacent baby’s room, she walked over to the wicker rocking chair. There was barely an indentation in the plush velvet padding. She sat down with a thump and thought about Billie’s will.
No life-support measures. Pull the plug. Body organs to an organ bank if possible. Those not ravaged by disease. The word euthanasia sent a shudder through her body. What were the ramifications? She racked her brain to remember what she’d read and seen recently on the news. Had she agreed to do something that wasn’t legal? The family . . . God, what were they going to say? Would they fight her? She thought of Susan then and imagined her reaction. Her shoulders slumped. Would her husband be on her side?
Ivy was off her chair in a second. The mad desire to fling herself into her son’s crib and snuggle with him was overwhelming. What if the family turned on her? What if Riley turned on her? Her hand crept through the bars of the crib. She caressed the downy head. “Then it’s just you and me, partner,” she whispered to the sleeping baby.
Back in her room, Ivy headed for the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. How was it possible for her to look the same as when she carried Moss up the steps to put him to bed? She should look . . . awful. Terrible. She picked up the powder puff. Billie wanted to be buried on the hill. What would it do to Thad to see her buried next to her first husband? Dear God, Ivy fretted, what had she gotten herself into? Billie’s words ricocheted in her head. “You, Ivy, are the legal custodian of my living will.” Ivy closed her eyes as she visualized the battles that lay ahead of her. Tomorrow, or the next day, she was going to go to Valentine Mitchell’s office with the tape. Valentine would help her through this. The decision made her feel better immediately.
Now, she had to go downstairs with a smile on her face and play hostess to the family. She crossed her fingers. Please, God, don’t let Susan get to me.
Ivy used the back staircase to enter the kitchen. Things looked under control. Beef stew, fresh bread, garden salad, and green peas. Jonquil had trouble cooking any meal that required more than one pot. The whole family loved stew made with prime Coleman beef, which was tender as butter. There would be no complaints, and the pot would be empty when dinner ended. There were never leftovers when Jonquil made stew. The peach cobbler looked wonderful, with its little patches of cinnamon sugar crusting the top. It was one of Billie’s favorites. Riley’s too.
“You best get in there, Miz Ivy,” Jonquil said out of the corner of her mouth. “Miz Sawyer is half snookered. Miz Susan is ... she’s been drinking all afternoon.”
Ivy took a deep breath and entered the huge family room at the back of the house.
“Well,” she said cheerfully, “we’re almost all here. Riley and Cole should arrive any minute, and Thad will be here with Cary. Maggie, I’m going to have a ginger ale, want to split it?”
Maggie held her glass aloft. “Beat you to it,” she said quietly. “I told Jonquil to set another place. Rand called from the airport. He’s on his
way. Guess we’ll all be here.”
“Well, Miss Hostess of Sunbridge, do you think you can handle that?” Susan slurred.
“Sober, I can handle anything, Susan.”
“Is there a hidden message in what you just said?” Sawyer demanded as she brought the beer bottle in her hand to her mouth.
Ivy forced a laugh that sounded eerie to her ears. “It just means I can handle it. Whatever it turns out to be.” Her eyes were on Susan when she spoke. “The stew is simmering, and we all know it just gets better the longer it cooks. Why don’t we catch up on family matters? I know I would personally love to hear how the twins are. I don’t know how you do it, Sawyer. Moss wears me out. Two little girls, it’s wonderful. Billie told me about the Easter dresses she designed for them.” Her eyes pleaded with Sawyer, who in the past had been her staunchest ally.
“Oh, yes, darling, tell us how the girls are doing,” Billie said cheerfully. “And then I’ll remind you of the things you did when you were their age.”
Maggie’s eyes darkened. She hated it when her mother said things like this. She herself had absolutely no memory of what her daughter Sawyer did or didn’t do at the age of two.
“You would not believe what they do,” Sawyer said proudly. “Adam is better with them than I am. They actually listen to him. Last month they managed to get hold of the phone and called Australia and Greece and a bunch of other places. Adam whacked their bottoms real good. Josie stuck her tongue out at him and Katy kicked him in the shins. Little shits, both of them. However, they’re mine and I love them dearly.” Her expression became quizzical. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Katy has straight hair and Josie has curly hair? I mean both Adam and I have curly hair.” The question wasn’t directed to anyone in particular.
“What’s the big deal?” Susan snapped.
Sawyer drained her beer. “I didn’t say it was a big deal. I said it was strange. I’m sick of you, Susan. Besides, you’re half in the bag, and I don’t like talking to a drunk. So why don’t you go upstairs and sleep off whatever it is that’s crawling in your undies.”
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