Texas Rich

by Fern Michaels

  Warm regards,

  Thad

  Billie folded the letter and replaced it in the worn envelope. She must have read the letter three dozen times at the very least.

  She was busily sketching in charcoal at her easel when Moss appeared in the doorway. Billie’s eyes hardened. Let him see what she was doing. What did she care? She steeled herself for what he was going to say. He seemed ill at ease, which was strange for Moss. Always-in-control Moss. “Did you want something, Moss?”

  “I can’t seem to find—”

  “Whatever it is, it isn’t here. There’s not one thing in this room that belongs to you. You saw to that. You’re blocking the light.”

  “Billie . . . goddamn it, I want to talk to you.”

  Billie clenched her teeth so hard a shooting pain ran down the side of her neck and into her arm. “Why don’t we make an appointment for later in the week—I think I might be able to squeeze you in then.”

  “I won’t be here later in the week. I have to go up north for a week or so. I think we should talk now.”

  Alice Forbes was in New York. Everyone at the club assumed that rehearsals for her new play were getting under way.

  Billie looked at the charcoal sketch. It had been giving her so much plesasure until Moss appeared. It was a sketch of Thad sitting in a deep armchair in front of his blazing fire with a sleeping Solomon at his side. She turned away and continued sketching, ignoring Moss completely.

  “When I get back, we’ll talk.”

  “If you happen to find yourself on Broadway, make sure you bring home a program for Susan. She saves them.”

  “I’ll do that,” Moss said harshly. “Good night, Billie.” He waited in the hallway for a second to see if she would call out to him or run after him. She didn’t. The pain he felt was like a knife slicing into his gizzard.

  Billie continued sketching. This picture was therapy and it was giving her pleasure. It would bring a smile to Thad’s face when he saw it.

  It was midnight when Billie made the last touches on her drawing. The likeness of Thad was perfect. She hoped she had Solomon right. By two o’clock she had the drawing framed and packed in cardboard. Tomorrow, right after breakfast, she would put some of the Coleman money to good use. She would have the carton taken to the airport and put on the first flight to Corpus Christi. From there a private messenger service would deliver it personally to Thad at the naval air station.

  For the first time in months, Billie slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

  Ensign Calvin James accepted the package and signed for it. He marched smartly to the admiral’s office and waited for clearance to enter. “Special delivery, sir.”

  “Anything special?” Thad asked curiously.

  “It’s from a Billie Coleman in Austin, Texas, sir.”

  “Don’t stand there, James. Fetch it here.”

  He felt like a kid as he ripped at the cardboard carton and the heavy inner paper. When he drew out the framed charcoal drawing he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. But Ensign James was standing at attention.

  “Sir, you have a meeting in five minutes.”

  “When I get back I want this picture hanging right there where I can see it.” Thad pointed to a wall across from his desk. He would have direct eye contact with the picture anytime he sat at his desk. By God, who would have thought Billie would do such a wonderful thing? He was going to call her. The hell with what Moss thought. Such thoughtfulness deserved a personal thank-you.

  “Aye-aye, sir. I’ll see to it right away.” Ten minutes later everyone on the admiral’s staff was admiring Billie Coleman’s handiwork. “It does look like the old man, doesn’t it?” James asked the staff. “But when did the old man get a dog?”

  “Who the hell is Billie Coleman?”

  “Some guy the admiral flew with during the war, probably,” James answered. “Looks nifty. The old man will be pleased.”

  Billie Coleman’s world was already teetering on its axis. It turned over and crashed around her the morning she went to wake Maggie for their promised shopping trip to Austin.

  Maggie’s bedclothes were tossed and rumpled, most of them at the foot of the girlishly draped canopy bed. Maggie herself was in her powder-pink bathroom leaning over the bowl, gagging and retching. An alarm, too poignantly familiar, sounded in Billie’s head. All the signals were there. The sleepiness, the change from rebelliousness to quiet introspection, the thickening of Maggie’s waistline despite her loss of appetite. Maggie didn’t need a shopping trip into the city. She needed a doctor to confirm what Billie already knew: her daughter was pregnant.

  Billie groped for the edge of Maggie’s bed before she collapsed. How could this be? She’d taken Maggie to see Dr. Ward only days after discovering what Maggie had been doing. But then, of course, it would have been too soon to diagnose a pregnancy. That had been nearly four months earlier, back in June. Just when she was overcoming visions of her little girl in strange motel rooms with strange men, this had to come along. Just when it seemed she was making headway with Maggie, getting closer to her, rekindling lost feelings of trust and love. Poor Maggie! Her life would never be the same. None of them would ever be the same. Forcing the numbness out of her legs, Billie stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell me, Maggie?”

  “Mam . . .” Maggie tried to lift her head, her face a ghastly shade of green, her eyes sunken and miserable.

  Billie dropped to her knees, cradling her child’s head against her breast. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why, Maggie?” Billie cried brokenly.

  “Because you’d tell Pap and he already hates me!”

  “He doesn’t hate you, Maggie. But he has to know. Now, later? Does it really make a difference when he knows?”

  “Send me away, Mam. Send me somewhere. There are places. He doesn’t-have to know. Please, Mam. Help me!”

  “Oh, Maggie, I wish it were that simple, but it isn’t. How many periods have you missed?”

  “Three.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “Mammmm!”

  They sat on the cold bathroom floor, mother and daughter, two women. Billie brushed back Maggie’s dark hair from her white brow and crooned soft words as her daughter retched.

  “Don’t fight it, darling. It only makes it worse.”

  God, what was she going to do with this child of hers? At that moment she felt as sick as her daughter. What would be best for Maggie? Her brain clicked and raced as she tried to second-guess the family’s reaction. The word abortion loomed frighteningly in front of her. Never! Amelia was still too fresh in her mind. Moss had to be told. What would he say; what would he do? Tears filled her eyes. She had failed so miserably at everything. But to fail with one’s own firstborn, that was unforgivable. Billie sighed wearily, knowing she was in for a storm of emotion from everyone in the house. Maggie herself would give her the most problems once she was on her feet.

  “I feel a little better, Mother. I think I should go back to bed. I don’t want to go shopping.”

  Billie had to shake her head to clear her thoughts. One minute the child was so close to her and now she had withdrawn again and was talking about shopping. Surely she realized the predicament she was in. Her whole life was at stake here. “I think that’s a good idea. You get into bed and I’ll ring for Charlotte to fetch some tea. Perhaps some dry toast and crackers. It’s about the only thing that will stay in your stomach.”

  Billie waited till Maggie finished her tea before speaking. “What are we going to do, Maggie?”

  “This is my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

  “How will you do that, Maggie? Please, I want to know. I don’t even know what to do at this point.”

  “That’s your problem, Mother. You never seem to know. what to do. You coast. I’ll go away. I have some money I’ve been saving. If you know the right people, you can get an abortion. It’s simple.”

  “No it isn’t, Maggie. It’s a terrible, horrible or
deal. That’s not an easy answer. I need time to adjust and think.”

  Suddenly the little girl in Maggie came out as she clung to her mother. For the moment all the girl’s angry hostility and insecurity were shelved in her fear. “What’s Pap going to say?” Billie ached at the tremble in her daughter’s voice. Maggie didn’t mind her knowing. She didn’t mind her mother seeing her misery. Mothers accepted. That’s what made them mothers. Maggie didn’t care what she thought. In the end she was confident Billie could make it right.

  “Maggie, I have no idea what he’ll say. He’s in New York. It does give us some breathing room to decide what we’re going to do. Who’s the father of this baby, Maggie?”

  Maggie looked blank. “Father?”

  “Yes, Maggie, father. Who is the father of your child?” Please, God, let her come up with a name. Don’t let her. . .

  Maggie sank back into the pillows. The old defiant look was back on her face. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Mother.”

  “Maggie, I don’t find that statement humorous at all.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be humorous. All right, Mother, some guy I picked up. Steve something. I really don’t remember. Maybe it was Earl. On the other hand it might have been Harry. Or Dick or John. Take your pick. What does it matter?”

  “It matters a great deal.”

  “Face it, Mother. I’m a T.I.T.”

  “What’s that?”

  Maggie laughed, a short brittle sound. “For shame, Mother. Surely Grandpap or Pap told you.”

  Billie clenched her teeth. “What does it mean, Maggie? And how do you know your father and grandfather refer to you in that way?”

  “Because Susan and Riley heard them talking and came and told me. That’s how I know, Mother. Your precious Riley and Susan would never tell a lie. You really don’t know, do you? Tramp in training, Mother. That’s what it means. At least they won’t be disappointed.”

  The blood drained from Billie’s face. “Maggie, I swear to you, I didn’t know. If I had . . .” She reached out and Maggie slapped her hand away.

  “What would you have done, Mother? Let me tell you. You’d look away like you always do. Grandpap calls the shots around here and Pap backs him up. Would you have gone up against either of them for me? I don’t think so, Mother. Your safe little world would have been disturbed. You know Pap is out there messing around. Grandpap did it, too.”

  The crack of Billie’s hand on Maggie’s face thundered in the quiet room.

  “Do it again, Mother, on the other side. Maybe it will make you feel better. You can’t hurt me. None of you can hurt me anymore. What did I say? The truth? Keep looking the other way, Mother. When Pap leaves you, what are you going to have left? Oh, I forgot, the Coleman money.”

  The pounding in Billie’s head was no match for the pounding of her heart. She was going to be sick. Billie drew the heavy draperies and left the room. Maggie’s eyes glared at her from the semidarkness.

  The phone rang in the VIP suite of the Astor Hotel, and Moss reached out a reluctant arm as though to quiet an alarm. The shower was running as a background to a woman’s sultry voice humming a tune from last night’s Broadway musical. Awareness descended. It was 10:10 in New York; 8:10 at Sunbridge. He looked down at the messy bed and frowned. He hated wadded and twisted bedsheets. The phone continued to shrill. Moss came to terms with the fact that he’d have to answer it. Partying with Alice’s friends until the wee hours of the morning and then two hours of bedroom calisthenics were not conducive to morning calls.

  Moss heard Billie’s tight, anxious voice just as Alice Forbes walked into the bedroom stark naked. Her body was always a shock to Moss. While her face was beautifully structured and feminine, her body was slim and lean to the point of boyishness. He was so accustomed to Billie’s rounded body and soft, full breasts that he’d almost had difficulty achieving an erection the first time he’d taken Alice to bed. Almost. Now he appreciated those small, girlish breasts with their large brown areolas and those rack-thin hips that could undulate with such a greedy appetite.

  “Darling, I know you’re awake,” Alice called out. “I have to leave for the theater. The second act still isn’t right. Say you forgive me.” Her hand flew to her mouth when she realized her lover was on the phone.

  Moss’s stomach lurched. Billie would have to be deaf not to have heard Alice. Jesus Christ! If Maggie was pregnant, why did she have to tell him at this hour of the morning? He couldn’t change anything. “I can’t come home now,” he said, more coldly than he’d intended. “My business isn’t finished yet. A few more days. You can handle things, can’t you? Have a talk with Seth and your mother.”

  Trouble. He’d known the call was trouble the minute the phone had rung. It was Amelia all over again. Seth was going to go up in smoke.

  Alice was dressed in minutes. She mouthed, “Billie?” When Moss nodded, her eyebrows shot up. She favored him with a conspiratorial grimace. Moss ignored her.

  “I’ll be home by the end of the week,” he said. “We can discuss all of this then. It goes without saying the girl will have to have an abortion.”

  His daughter pregnant. At thirteen. Jesus! Where in the hell had Billie been all this time? How had she let this happen? He didn’t need these problems right now. The girl was an alleycat. Seth had said it time and time again.

  “That’s enough, Billie! This is not something to discuss over the phone. The girl is pregnant and a few more days isn’t going to make a difference. When I get back I’ll have the name of a doctor you can take her to. I’ll be home Friday night. Take a drink, Billie. You sound as though you need it. It isn’t the end of the world. After all, the same thing happened to us.”

  Billie’s gasp shrilled in his ears. “That was different,” she said icily. “Your daughter doesn’t know who the father is. What do you have to say to that?”

  Moss stared at the phone in his hand. It took him a minute to realize Billie had hung up on him.

  Moss didn’t return on Friday as promised. “Unfinished business,” he told Seth on the phone. He did, however, have the name of a doctor for Billie.

  Sunbridge was as quiet as a mausoleum when Moss let himself in late Sunday afternoon. Thoughts and memories had haunted him since Billie’s phone call: Maggie as a baby, growing up, her first real party. How in the hell had his lovely little girl gotten herself into this mess? Where had Billie been while it was happening? Where had he been?

  Moss knew what a man’s return to his castle should be like: his pretty wife running lightly to the front door to welcome and embrace him, children gathering around, clamoring for his attention. Daddy’s home, he thought dourly, and there’s no one here who gives a damn except Riley.

  Billie heard Moss’s step in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed but she continued sketching on the pad in her lap. The sun coming through the living room window had felt warm and good a moment ago.

  Moss loomed in the doorway. “I’m here,” he announced bluntly. “I don’t suppose you can stop to make me a drink?”

  “I suppose.” Billie attempted to keep her voice level. Laying aside her charcoals, she crossed the room to the bar, stopping to dutifully kiss Moss’s cheek. Moss’s senses reeled unexpectedly at the familiar scent of her perfume.

  Billie felt the charge leap between them. Would she never conquer these feelings she had for him? Even after all these years and so many disappointments, she still wanted him as a man. It had little to do with her need of him as a husband; this was something more instinctive.

  Moss accepted his drink, waiting for Billie to speak. Instead she seemed about to go back to her sketchbook. This irritated him, though he realized he was being unreasonable. Unreasonable to expect her to pretend she’d never heard Alice’s voice in his hotel room. Unreasonable to wish she’d come to him in this silent house and welcome him into her arms and her bed. Groping for words, he asked, “Did you call that doctor for Maggie?”

  Billie turned and stared at him levelly, her soft
hazel eyes sharpening. “No, I did not. And I won’t.”

  Moss sighed. “All right, if you’re going to be stubborn about it, I’ll call him myself.”

  “No, you won’t. There won’t be any doctor. Except one who will deliver our grandchild safely. I’ve had time to think, more time than I need.” Her gaze accused him. “Maggie is a child in years but certainly not in experience. She’ll have to live with the consequences of her actions. She’s pregnant and she’ll have this baby. Abortion is against the law and she knows it. To have us condone it, help her get one, wouldn’t be good for Maggie. God only knows what she’d get herself into next time. Where will it all stop? I won’t have any part of it, Moss. She’s not even fourteen years old, and she’ll have to live with it the rest of her life. I’d rather she live with having the baby than destroying it. In other words, Moss, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “You shouldn’t foist something on her just because your own principles will be affronted.”

  “And whose principles will you foist on her, Moss? She’s only a child and someone must give her the direction she’s seeking.” Billie knew she was right. Her code of ethics, her principles, might be right only for herself, but they were the only ones she had to offer Maggie.

  “She is too young to be saddled with a kid, Billie. I am thinking of Maggie, whether you believe it or not.”

  “Things go wrong with abortions. I . . . I know someone . . .” Billie stopped, remembering her promise to Amelia. “Maggie won’t be saddled with anything if she doesn’t want to be. There’s time enough to decide what to do with the baby. There are perfectly respectable adoption agencies.”

  “Just get that out of your head, Billie. This baby is part Coleman, and we don’t put Colemans out like unwanted kittens. Stick by this decision and you’ll be the one to live with the consequences. If you’d been more of a mother to Maggie, this never would have happened.”