Texas Rich

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Texas Rich Page 60

by Fern Michaels


  “Mr. Hasegawa, I am not a blood relation to Riley. I am a family friend, but I love the boy as though he were my own son. I’m not sure I should be discussing his family with you. Not that I don’t want to, but I did promise Riley and must honor that promise. I hope you understand.”

  Shadaharu Hasegawa nodded wearily. He contemplated the tip of his glowing cigar. “There is so much these days that I do not understand. I am not progressive, my wife says. My . daughter says I must learn modern Western ways if I am to survive. The old ways, our culture, suddenly is not enough for the young people. I have many more daughters. Eight in all.” He grimaced. “Do you know what nine women can do to one man who treasures the old ways?”

  Thad grinned. How pitiful this rolypoly man looked. How woebegone—until you looked at his shrewd eyes. “I think I have some idea of what you are talking about. I’m very relieved that you welcomed Otami back into the family. I came here today to be sure she was well taken care of. On Riley’s request, of course.”

  “Tell me of this young man. My daughter goes on for hours, but she is a young woman in love. I must know of the family this young man comes from.”

  “The Colemans are a fine old family. Very well respected. They’re good people, Mr. Hasegawa. Your daughter married into a fine old family. They’re wealthy, if that’s important. Riley has a trust fund that will keep him and his family well off for all his life. You need have no worry on that score.”

  “I am well off, too. I can provide for my daughter and the baby.” Mr. Hasegawa bristled.

  “I’m sure you can. You will recall I said ‘if it’s important.’ I don’t think that Riley or Otami has given much thought to money. I mentioned it in case you were . . . were wondering.”

  “I was. There is no use pretending I wasn’t. Why doesn’t the young man want his family to know about his marriage to my daughter?”

  He’d dreaded the question and searched his mind for just the right words. “I think—now understand, Mr. Hasegawa, it is merely my opinion—I think Riley was afraid that his father would spoil things for him. I must tell you that I agree—I think his father would have spoiled things. It is to your credit that you were wise enough to welcome back your daughter rather than lose her.”

  Mr. Hasegawa snorted and then puffed on his cigar. “My wife, that tiny porcelain doll, told me, as did my other daughters, that if I did not welcome Otami back, they were all going to America to seek careers in the films. What could I do? I, too, learn from the young. I know I must be progressive to survive. Also, I cannot, I simply cannot, stand all the chirping and chattering when I do not go along with their plans and ideas.”

  “You’re a remarkable man, Mr. Hasegawa. You have a fine family. It is a wise man who knows when to . . .”

  “Buckle under to the pressure of his womenfolk. I believe it is an ancient Chinese proverb, is it not?”

  Thad laughed and puffed on his cigar.

  “It would not be a wise idea, then, to get in touch with the Coleman family?”

  “No, Mr. Hasegawa, it would not be a good idea. Not at this time. In the end it must be Riley and Otami’s decision. Not yours. I’m sorry if that offends you, but that is the way I see it.”

  “My daughter tells me her husband has great respect for you. I can see why. You have told me what you wanted to tell me, what you think I needed to know. No more. I respect that, Admiral Kingsley. I will go along with their wishes. My daughter will always have a home with her family. It would dishonor us all if I left her to fend for herself—particularly now. The Colemans are not to be notified of the birth?”

  “Only if Riley gives his permission. Otherwise, you must honor his wishes. You will have one consolation, though. You will have this child all to yourselves.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair. To deprive one’s family of a child. There is a grandfather, Otami tells me.”

  “No, it isn’t fair. But it isn’t up to either of us to judge or make decisions. All we can do is be here for them if needed.”

  “You are a wise man, Admiral. You must come to my house again so that we can get to know each other better. You will want to see the infant when it is born.”

  “I’d like that very much. I would be honored.”

  “My house is yours. You will come and go as you see fit. Anytime you wish. Now, I’m afraid we must return and you will tell my girls stories of the film stars. I beg of you, do not make them too glamorous.”

  Thad laughed. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Admiral, do you think you could tell them that Clark Gable is not as handsome in real life as he is on the screen?”

  “I think I can tell them he has a wart on his nose that is covered with makeup. Is that all right?”

  Shadaharu Hasegawa puffed contentedly on his cigar. “That would be quite wonderful, if you don’t mind the little white lie.”

  “Who said it was a lie? Every man in the world believes it.” Thad laughed as he followed his host back into the house.

  Four days later Thad received a phone call from the Tokyo Sun Times. He was told it was a person-to-person call from Shadaharu Hasegawa. The excitement in Otami’s father’s voice could only mean good news. “A boy child!”

  “Congratulations, Mr. Hasegawa. Give Otami my love. I’ll get word to Riley.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. You will come to my house next week. Please.”

  “Thank you. Will Sunday be all right?”

  “We will all look forward to your visit. Good-bye, Admiral Kingsley.”

  Thad ached with the feelings he had to suppress. This was the kind of news a person liked to deliver. Billie would be so delighted. Moss would be ecstatic—until he found out the mother of his grandchild was Japanese. This was news he would have to keep to himself.

  Riley landed his plane and headed straight for his quarters. Sleep was what he needed. Sleep and dreams of Otami. He was halfway across the compound when his CO handed him a slip of paper. A boy! “Mother and son doing fine. Everything under control.” The message was signed by Fleet Admiral Thaddeus Kingsley. He’d known he could count on Uncle Thad.

  A son. A boy to carouse with. To just look at, not smother. It was all so right.

  His conscience pricked him for a moment. He should write to Sunbridge. Someday. Someday far away. For now he was going to sleep off his all-night air strike and dream of his wife and new son.

  A month later the first picture of his new son arrived. Riley Shadaharu Coleman. Seven and one-half pounds. Twenty inches long.

  It was two o’clock in the morning when Riley met his flight buddies on the makeshift runway for their nightly strikes. He lovingly touched the wingtip and offered up his daily prayer. “Let me come back to my wife and son,” he whispered softly. “Coleman Aviation, don’t fail me now.”

  An hour into the air strike Riley’s plane started to lose altitude. Fear rose in his throat, threatening to choke off his air supply. Jesus, not here, not over this godforsaken country no one’s ever heard about. Not for something no one understood. God, not now! Riley screamed. The plane banked and Riley’s feet danced on the pedals. He was too low; he could never bail out. Red lights glowed, reminding him of eerie Halloween eyes. His last conscious thought before he crashed into the mountain ridge was that Riley Shadaharu had his grandfather Coleman’s nose.

  The Navy Department was only too willing to have Thad travel to Texas to break the news of Riley’s death. He personally got on the phone and begged Washington to hold up notifying Otami until he could notify the Colemans. Irregular, they said, but because of their own snafus they were willing to make any and all concessions.

  The moment Billie opened the door to her Austin apartment and saw Thad in full dress uniform she knew. She took a deep breath. Thad poured her a drink, which she declined. “Tell me everything you know.” It was a while later when she finally asked, “Why can’t I cry?”

  “You’re in shock, Billie. Come with me. I can’t leave you here. I have to go to Sunbridge. M
oss is going to need you. So is Seth.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. Let me get a sweater. You’re right. They’re going to need me. Did I thank you, Thad, for coming? I did, didn’t I?”

  “Several times. I thought you would rather hear it from me than the War Department.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “They were flying low strikes. Riley’s plane started to lose altitude. He crashed into a ridge. That’s all we know.”

  “Moss won’t be able to accept this. Neither will Seth. Was it a Coleman plane?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  “They were all Coleman planes,” Thad said softly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The scene at Sunbridge set Thad’s teeth on edge. Threats, insults, and recriminations flew thick and fast. Seth bellowed and snorted like a frostbitten dragon. Moss downed half a bottle of brandy in two gulps. Agnes flopped down on a chair and fingered her strand of pearls, her eyes never leaving the raging Seth.

  “Don’t interfere, you said. That’s what you said, gal. Your exact words, don’t interfere. Now he’s dead. Riley is dead. My only grandson. It’s your fault!” he shouted, pointing a clawlike hand at Billie.

  “But you did interfere. You had him sent to Guam to fly weather missions. You can’t blame me for my own son’s death. What kind of man are you? If you had left things alone, he might still be alive. Oh, no, you and Moss, the pair of you, you had to get right in there and do what you always do. Pull strings, make threats, bribe people, to get what you want. Now look what’s happened. My son is gone. I have no son. Why couldn’t you leave him alone?” Billie cried brokenly.

  “You don’t even belong here. What are you doing here, anyway? Who asked you to come here? Get her out of here, Moss. I can’t stand to look at her face.”

  “That’s enough, Pap,” Moss thundered. “Thad, what happened? I want it straight.”

  “Riley was flying in low, one of his nightly strikes. The plane started to lose altitude and he couldn’t bail out. He went into a ridge and the plane exploded. It’s all we know, Moss.”

  “It was a Coleman plane?”

  Thad had to strain to hear the question. “Yes, Moss, the whole squadron flies Coleman planes. You know that as well as I do.”

  “There was some kind of foul-up!” Moss cried. “Riley was supposed to stay in Guam for the rest of his tour. He was already in Vietnam when we found out. He was supposed to be rotated back day after tomorrow. Jesus. Two days! I can’t believe it.”

  Billie stood up. “Moss, you’ve had enough to drink. Why don’t we all go into the kitchen and have some coffee.”

  “Coffee! Get this stupid woman out of here,” Seth roared. “I mean it, Moss. My grandson is dead and she wants to make coffee. Agnes, you raised one hell of a woman here. I never heard anything so stupid in my life.”

  “Shut up, Seth,” Agnes said angrily. “One more word out of you and I swear I’ll gag you personally. Coffee is something we all need. You will either keep a civil tongue in your head or you’ll be wheeled to your room. Do we understand each other, Seth?”

  “Don’t tell me to shut up, Aggie. This is my house.”

  Thad, Moss, and Billie followed Agnes into the kitchen. Seth wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his flannel shirt and spun his chair about. He’d be goddamned if he’d go out there and have coffee. In the end he wheeled his chair closer to the door so that he could hear the low voices coming from the kitchen. Billie was weeping, but Agnes seemed to be in control. As always. It was time to rid himself of both of them. Who needed them now? He certainly didn’t. Everything was over. What was the point in going on?

  Billie held herself in rigid control. Things had to be done, calls had to be made. Maggie, Susan, Sawyer. She had to do it, break the news. It took several tries before she could dial Maggie’s New York number correctly. Her daughter’s breathless voice came over the receiver on the fourth ring. “Maggie...” Now that she was actually hearing her voice, Billie was unable to continue. Some part of her was denying Riley’s death, some part of her believed if she did not say the words, it would not become reality. “Maggie, oh, Maggie!”

  A bolt of alarm electrified Maggie as she clenched the phone to her ear. “Mam? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Pap? Mam, are you there? Answer me!”

  Moss took the phone from Billie’s shaking hand and, with all the control he could muster, spoke. “Maggie. Riley was killed. We’ve only just got word. Mam can’t talk, but we wanted you to know.”

  Maggie bit down so hard on her lip she could taste the blood. The pain, the rage, couldn’t be stifled. Dear God in heaven, Riley couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t! She needed to lash out, to hurt in return. “He was flying one of your planes, wasn’t he, Pap?” She broke the connection.

  Helplessly, Maggie looked around her apartment, the place where she had encouraged her brother to enlist in the service in order to spite Moss, remembering that awful lonely Christmas they’d spent together. Now there would never be another Christmas.

  Madness spurred her forward, to the desk, where she searched frantically for the packet of photographs she and Riley had taken that night. When she couldn’t lay her hands on them immediately, she upended the desk. The pictures slid from their envelope onto the carpet. Maggie dropped to her knees and scrambled for them, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched them to her chest.

  “No, no, no!” she cried aloud. “Not Riley, never Riley! Me! It should have been me! Dear God, I wish it had been me!”

  Thad felt emotionally bruised and battered as he climbed into the cockpit of his plane for the return flight to California. He hated leaving Billie, but there was nothing he could do. How wrong they had been to think that Seth and Moss would need her. Feeling like an outcast, she had crept from the house with him like a thief in the night. When they’d said their good-byes there had been no tears. The tears would come later.

  Otami stared at Thad, containing her grief. “He never saw his son,” she whispered brokenly. “He never got to do all the things a father wants to do with his son. Do you think, Admiral Kingsley, that he thought of them, the things he would do when little Riley grew up?”

  “I’m sure he did, Otami. I notified the Colemans. I didn’t mention you or the baby.”

  “It is . . . was Riley’s wish that they not know. We must honor that wish. My parents are away. My mother went with my father on a business trip. They will not return for another month.”

  “I can notify them. You shouldn’t be alone now. They would want to be here with you.”

  “Admiral Kingsley, I am not alone. I will never be alone. You forget, I have Riley’s son. I will be fine. You are not to worry about me. I knew that this might happen someday. I am not prepared, but I must accept it.”

  Thad gathered the girl close to him. “Cry. It will make you feel better.”

  “I cannot do that. Perhaps someday. I must go to the baby now. It is time for him to nurse. Thank you for coming. Would you like to stay for dinner?” At Thad’s negative nod, Otami turned and left the room.

  When Thad left, he knew he wouldn’t be back—not for a long time. The Hasegawas would do all that was necessary. He would only be a grim reminder of Riley and that was the one thing they didn’t need. Life had to go on. . . .

  Billie handled her grief in several ways. She painted and worked obsessively. She spent time with Sawyer, sometimes talking for hours, and Sawyer told her little things she had never known about her son. What gave her the greatest comfort were her long letters to Thad and his equally long replies. There had even been one hour-long phone call from Tokyo that she would always treasure. Thad’s concern was almost more than she could bear. In the end, however, she had been the one to comfort him. She never knew where her strength came from, but she was coping, handling things to the best of her ability. She was going to survive.

  Moss Coleman cradled the phone on his shoulder as he waited for his party to come on the line. His voice, when he ident
ified himself, was cold and harsh. “I think it’s a hell of a note when a father has to beg the United States Navy to return his dead son’s belongings. I’ve written six letters, sent three telegrams, and I’ve had no word. There must be some paper shuffler or pencil pusher who knows what’s going on. I’m not getting off this phone till I get the answers I want.”

  “One moment, sir. I think Major Henry is the person you want to speak with. He’s on another line. Will you hold?”

  “I’m holding. I’ve been holding for two months now,” Moss snarled. “Of course I’ll wait.”

  Five minutes later the phone crackled to life. “Major Henry here.”

  Moss ran through his speech a second time.

  “Mr. Coleman, your son’s effects were sent to his wife. Those are the rules. I can’t change them, even for you.”

  “Wife! What wife? My son wasn’t married. You idiots must have Riley mixed up with someone else. Just like his orders were mixed up. My son would be alive today except for that screw-up. What do you have to say to that, Major Henry?”

  “I don’t know anything about your son’s orders, but I do know that the lieutenant was married for almost two years to a Japanese girl while he was stationed in Guam. His personal belongings and his military insurance were forwarded to his wife. There is also a minor dependent, a son. This information came to us after your son’s death. It was included in his record.... Mr. Coleman, are you still there? . . . Mr. Coleman?”

  Moss stared down at his desk. “Yes, I’m here, Major. I didn’t know about the marriage. Even his mother didn’t know.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Mr: Coleman. Sometimes these young men get antsy when they’re so far from home. Everything was in order.”

  “Yes, Major, I’m sure it was. My son never did anything halfway. Could you tell me who this girl is and where she lives?”

 

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