Texas Rich

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Texas Rich Page 55

by Fern Michaels

“All right, Riley, go to sleep. We’re going to have to go through this one more time with your grandfather and then we’re going to lay it to rest. Are we in agreement?”

  Riley’s gut churned, but he nodded and tried to respond when his father put his arms around him. Something was missing. He wondered if it was Moss’s love. By day’s end he would know.

  It was shortly after two in the morning when Riley crept downstairs and placed his presents beneath the huge spruce tree in the living room. He laid Maggie’s and Susan’s gifts on the side for Mam to take care of, propped up the notes he had written to everyone on the mantel, and then left Sunbridge. He walked to the main road and hitched a ride for Dallas. No sense going into Austin. The old man would only alert the airlines and have him yanked off and returned to the bosom of the family. He managed, with the aid of a friendly trucker, to get within a mile of the Dallas airport and from there he took a flight to New York under an assumed name.

  Riley did two things that day. He visited his friend Mike and offered him all the encouragement he could. Then he called Thad Kingsley and talked for two hours.

  Riley stood on the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Seventh Avenue, his eyes searching the deserted streets for a taxi. He huddled into his sheepskin jacket and jammed his hands into his pockets, wishing he had thought to bring gloves. This was probably the first time in his life he was somewhere other than Sunbridge on Christmas morning. But that was another life, a long time ago.

  A cab snaked to the curb. “Merry Christmas,” the driver greeted him. “You’re in luck—this is my last trip before signing off duty. If you’re going uptown, that is.”

  “That’s where I’m going.” Riley rattled off Maggie’s address and settled back on the cracked leather seat. He was grateful for the steamy warmth of the cab. “Merry Christmas,” he said as an afterthought.

  The cabbie made good time, gauging each successive traffic light perfectly. The streets were nearly deserted, only a few pedestrians coming from or going to church. The desolation was contagious and Riley slumped down in the seat.

  Ten minutes later he was admitted into Maggie’s apartment building by the doorman, and after a quick call to the penthouse apartment, he was permitted to take the elevator. She was waiting for him and as he stepped off the elevator he was in her arms. He could feel the trembling in her slim body ... or was it his own?

  “Come in. You must be freezing. Coffee’s brewing. We’ll go into the den. I made a fire. When you called earlier I couldn’t believe you were here, actually here in New York. Here, give me your jacket. What’s wrong, Riley? Why aren’t you at Sunbridge? Would you rather coffee or a drink? You look awful and I’m talking too much and asking too many questions. Sit. I’ll be right back.”

  Riley slumped into the oversized sofa and looked around at the spacious apartment. In the far corner stood a Christmas tree, a giant evergreen trimmed from top to bottom with sparkling ornaments. Presents were stacked beneath the tree, and even from here he would tell which ones were from Sawyer. His throat tightened at the sight. Maggie alone, opening her presents by herself. How many years, when he’d been happy and involved with the family on Christmas momings, had Maggie been alone?

  “Here we are—coffee, juice, muffins, and bottle of brandy to go with the eggnog. I think we should toast the holiday. Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here, Riley. I can’t tell you how I’ve been dreading this day.”

  “Why don’t you turn on the lights so I can see how that creation of yours looks. . . . My God, it’s beautiful,” he said as the giant tree came to life.

  “Just like home, huh?” Maggie said proudly. “Let me tell you, it was no mean feat getting that tree up here. I don’t even want to think about taking it down.”

  “What are you doing here in the city on Christmas? I always thought you went to Saint Moritz for the holidays. I called you before I remembered that.”

  “I don’t think I actually ever said I went there. I alluded to it. So now you know my secret. I hole up for the holidays and cry my eyes out. I make myself a turkey dinner and I open my presents and then I cry some more. Then I make a few drinks, get blitzed, and go to bed. What do you think of that?”

  “Not a whole hell of a lot. You could have come home, been with us. Mam always said something was missing when you weren’t there. She missed Susan, too, but at least Suse always called on Christmas Day. You never did.” There was no accusation in Riley’s tone, only sadness.

  “Could I, Riley? Could I really have gone home? I never belonged there and I don’t belong there now. I’d be a guest. This is okay for me; it’s the way I handle things. Listen, can you stay for the day? Have dinner with me? We can open my presents and I can tell you what I sent you and the others at Sunbridge. We can have our own family day.”

  Riley nodded. He wouldn’t spoil this day for Maggie for anything in the world. Later, he would talk to her about his decision. For now, he had to find the strength he needed to deal with sad Maggie and this particular Christmas. “That’s a sweet offer, Maggie. You’ve got yourself a deal. With one stipulation. We don’t talk about the Colemans or Sunbridge or Texas. . . .”

  Maggie laughed, a sound of pure delight. “Or Mam or Pap or Sawyer or Suse or Seth and Agnes. Doesn’t leave much, little brother. They’re our lives.”

  “Not right now,” Riley said firmly. “This is our time. Can you really cook?”

  “Damn right I can cook. Come with me. I want to show you something.” Riley followed Maggie to a large kitchen containing every modern appliance. On a butcher-block cutting table stood a monstrous turkey with its legs trussed together. “Fully stuffed, little brother. Wild rice and chestnuts. These,” she said, pointing to a bowl, “are fresh cranberries. These are yams and will end up with marshmallow, butter, and brown sugar. This is fresh asparagus, greenhouse variety. We’re having mince, pumpkin, and apple pie; take your choice. I baked them last night. Candy canes are on the tree, one for each of us. Did I forget anything?”

  Riley’s face showed his awe ... and something else besides. “Damn you, Riley,” Maggie cried, “don’t you dare pity me! This is the only way I know to get through the holidays.”

  Riley took his sister into his arms. “Hey, this is me. I don’t think I’ve ever judged you. I’m not judging you now. In fact, I think I’m one hell of a lucky guy to be here right now. Just think—I could be back at Sunbridge listening to Seth squawk about how he doesn’t need another flannel shirt and hearing Agnes squeal over her latest piece of jewelry.... Sorry, I broke my stipulation.

  “Listen, let’s go sit in front of the fire. I want to hear all about what you do. This is some fancy pad, must cost a fortune in rent.”

  “The price is right.”

  “Maggie, where are your friends?”

  “Here, there, yonder. Who knows? I usually start talking about going away around Thanksgiving. They all think I’m in Saint Moritz, too. This is what I want and it’s my choice.”

  “We Colemans make strange choices, I’m discovering. By any chance did you happen to catch my television debut? Don’t tell me you didn’t see it. The whole world saw it, according to Grandpap.”

  “God, Riley, I couldn’t believe it was you! Handcuffs. That must have set Pap back a pace or two.”

  “Yeah, he thought I was crazy.”

  “Not me. I was rooting for you all the way. That took guts. I don’t know if I could have done it.”

  “Are you telling me this doesn’t take guts?” Riley waved his arm to indicate the empty apartment. “You’ve got more guts than me, Maggie, than all of us.”

  They drank coffee while Maggie finished preparing the turkey. They talked about everything and anything, each careful not to say anything that would wound the other.

  “You can set the table and I’ll get dressed, okay?”

  “Just tell me where everything is and I’ll pitch in and do my share.”

  “Right there in that cabinet. That holiday tablecloth is a ‘Billie
’ original, by the way,” she called over her shoulder.

  When she returned a few minutes later, Riley gave an appreciative whistle:

  “What do you call those things you’re wearing?” he demanded.

  “Hostess pajamas. It’s for entertaining at home. Mam sent it to me for my birthday. It’s probably the most beautiful thing I own.”

  “Mam’s talented, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is. I don’t think she knows just how talented herself. I couldn’t touch this outfit for less than five hundred dollars even if I could find it in a store.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. Mam has it. This is what she calls Blink Pink. It makes me feel good to wear it.

  “C’mon, let’s guess what’s in all these presents. I counted them. There’s twenty-six altogether. There isn’t one from you,” Maggie said pointedly.

  “Yes, there is, but it’s back at Sunbridge. Mam’ll send it on. When I left I didn’t . . .” Riley flushed.

  “You didn’t know you were coming here. I don’t care, Riley. I’m just glad you did come. You go first. Guess what I sent you.”

  Riley kicked off his boots and squatted down beside Maggie. “A shirt. A tie. A new wallet.”

  “Wrong. It’s my turn. This is from Sawyer. I’ll bet it’s a new hairbrush. She told me she had twenty-seven dollars to do her Christmas shopping and she had to buy seven presents.”

  “What did you send Sawyer?”

  “I have a friend who’s an art dealer. I had him get me a set of lithographs of planes from the Kitty Hawk to modern jets. I had them framed and sent. You know how crazy Sawyer is about flying and planes. Just like you and Pap. I hope she likes them. And I sent her a couple of books on aviation. And there’s a sweater and new slippers and a few other odds and ends. She’s growing up, she’s not interested in dolls any longer.”

  “The Cricket will go up in smoke when she opens them. But then she’d love a lump of coal if you sent it to her, Maggie.”

  Maggie avoided Riley’s eyes. “This package is from Sawyer too. It’s probably a picture of her standing next to one of Pap’s planes. She told me about it in her last letter. She was tickled when Pap took her to the factory one day. This one is from Mam and Pap. I think it’s some kind of fur. It’s your turn to guess about my present.”

  “Pajamas, socks, sweater.”

  “Wrong. My turn again. This is from Susan. She always sends me a wool sweater.” The bell timer in the kitchen rang, interrupting Maggie’s guessing game.

  The hours flew by as Maggie and Riley talked and played, trying to guess what each gaily wrapped gift contained. Occasionally Maggie would take time out to check on the turkey. Finally, she returned from the kitchen in triumph.

  “It’s time. Get your appetite ready. You can pour the wine and I’ll carry everything into the dining room. You carve. Do you think we should have some pictures of this event?”

  “Sure. Get one of me carving. I never did it before.”

  “Well, you’re the only man in the house, so you won’t have any competition.” In the kitchen, with the door closed, Maggie’s shoulders slumped. All this forced gaiety on both their parts. It was wrong, all of it. Riley belonged at Sunbridge with the rest of the family. Something was on his mind—this was no casual visit. There was a kind of desperation in his eyes, as though he were clinging to her. For Riley, she would play the game, say the right things, act the way he wanted her to act. It was the one thing in life she had learned to do well.

  An hour later Riley loosened his belt. “I’m stuffed. I don’t think I ever ate this much. Keep talking, Maggie, or I’ll fall asleep.”

  “You won’t have the chance. We have to clean up and do dishes.”

  “That’s women’s work.”

  “Tough. You eat, you work.”

  Maggie cleared the table and Riley wrapped the leftovers and put them in the mammoth refrigerator. Maggie washed and dried the exquisite china and crystal, not trusting it to the dishwasher. He was enjoying himself; he was glad he’d decided to come here, not just for himself, but for Maggie, too.

  “Riley, would you like to take a walk down Fifth Avenue to look at the Christmas decorations?” Maggie asked as she hung up her apron.

  “No, I want to see you open your presents. That’s the best part of Christmas. You and I are probably the oldest two kids I know.” Maggie laughed and settled down by the tree. She was so pretty, this sister of his. So troubled. How often, he wondered, did anyone but himself see the vulnerability in her eyes.

  “I’ll open and you clean up the paper, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  “Ah, I told you. A hairbrush!”

  Riley watched as Maggie carefully stacked Sawyer’s presents in a neat pile. The lynx coat from Mam and Pap was left in the box and carelessly pushed aside as well as Susan’s blue wool sweater. He showed no surprise when Seth’s emerald bracelet and Agnes’s satin robe weren’t removed from the tissue paper. A sparkling cocktail ring with more diamonds than he could count was placed beside Sawyer’s gifts. He did not question the giver.

  “Give up?”

  “Yep.”

  “I sent you a liftime supply of Tootsie Rolls.”

  Riley burst into laughter. “I also sent you a lifetime subscription to Reader’s Digest.”

  “Maggie, you didn’t!”

  “Yes, and I also sent the required tie, socks, shirt, sweater, and pajamas. Now, what’d you get me?”

  Riley was laughing so hard the tears rolled down his cheeks. “A fifty pound box of M&M candies and lifetime membership in National Geographic.”

  Maggie began to giggle and then joined Riley on the floor laughing, rolling into each other’s arms at the ridiculousness of their gifts. When the joy ebbed out of them the laughter became tears of poignant sadness. So many Christmases they’d missed sharing with each other. So many years distance between them. Thank God they hadn’t lost each other, especially not now, when everything else seemed to be changing or gone. “Let me get some wine. We both need a little fortification,” Maggie said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “Yes, it’s time we talked about why I’m really here,” Riley said hoarsely, clearing his throat, choking past the lump of raw emotion that seemed to be stuck there.

  Maggie curled herself into a ball in the corner of the sofa and listened intently as Riley talked.

  “That’s it. I just picked up and left. No one knows I’m here. What do you think, Maggie?”

  “The sister in me says don’t do it. I’m scared, Riley. But part of me says go ahead.” That’s the part that wants revenge on Pap, she-thought, hating herself. The ultimate revenge for years without loving and sharing. Anything to spite Pap. “Do it, Riley,” she said, hardly believing the words she heard coming from her mouth. “Do it.”

  Riley’s enormous faith in human nature shone in his eyes. Because he himself was so good-hearted, so trustworthy, he could never see any meanness in others. Maggie was his sister and she loved him as he loved her. It was what he’d wanted to hear. “I’ll do it. Quick, before anyone or anything can change my mind.”

  At that moment, a little piece of Maggie Coleman shriveled up and died. Then Riley grinned and her heart turned over. She felt as though she were saying good-bye, and it scared her. “Riley, dear heart, are you certain you want to do this?”

  “Now you sound like Mam.” Riley frowned. “You can’t have it both ways, Maggie. Either you think I’m doing the right thing or you don’t.”

  Maggie took a swallow of her wine. “Let’s not bring Mam into this, okay? It’s better to leave all of that alone.”

  “No, Maggie, we can’t leave it alone. I never understood why you always give Mam a hard time. My God, Maggie, she loves you heart and soul.”

  “Well, she shouldn’t,” Maggie snapped. “She has no right. We were never close, Riley. She was never a mother to me. Someone else always did for me.” There was bitterness in Maggie’s voice. “When I go
t pregnant with Sawyer, that’s when Mam decided to become a mother, but then it was too late. I was the only one never to have anyone. Mam had her art and she thought she had Pap. Pap had his work, his father, and his son. And you, Riley—you got it all, and there wasn’t anything left for Susan or me.”

  “And you don’t hate me?” Riley asked, tormented.

  “I love you, Riley. I know I’m filled with resentment. I tried to fight the only way I knew how. I became pregnant and had a child and I was sent away. Now that child lives at Sunbridge getting everything I never had. She belongs there and I never did. What’s the use? ... Why are we talking about this?”

  “You have to talk, Maggie. I want to leave here knowing you’re all right.”

  “I’m all right. I can live with it. Suse is the lucky one. Everything falls into place for her.”

  “No, Maggie, you’re wrong. Susan missed out, too.”

  At least she never had to worry about rejection. She has what she wants, her music and Aunt Amelia, who dotes on her the way Pap dotes on you.”

  “Maggie, I’m younger than you and Suse, but I could see that Susan was just as scared as you, only her fears took a different turn. Suse never had the guts to be a Coleman, to stand there with egg on her face and stare the world down. She doesn’t want to be sullied ... and we Colemans are certainly mucked up, aren’t we?”

  “We certainly are, brother mine, we certainly are.”

  “What say we drink this wine and get a buzz on? Let’s forget about Sunbridge, Pap, and the whole damn state of Texas.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Maggie said, clinking her glass against Riley’s.

  At eight o’clock in the morning on the day after Christmas, Riley Coleman enlisted in the United States Navy.

  Billie heard the news from Thad two days after Christmas. “Thad, why didn’t you stop him?” she cried. Not waiting for an answer, she rushed on. “Why? Why did he do it? He didn’t even spend Christmas with us!”

  Billie’s sobs tore at Thad’s heart. “The boy did it because his father expected it of him. He’s not a coward, Billie. Don’t ever, for one minute, think that about your son. I know that boy. I’m sorry he felt he had to enlist this way, but I’m not sorry he chose the navy. Only the navy would have satisfied his father. I’ll do my best to look after him. He’s a man now, Billie. We have to let him act like one.”

 

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