Texas Rich

by Fern Michaels

  At first it seemed it might work. Moss was making every attempt to mold himself into the husband she’d always wished he would be. In a very carefully worded letter to Thad, she stated her reasons for abandoning the divorce. Only one phrase had leaped out at Thad from the pages. “We need each other.” Thad had written to wish them well. Billie knew there was little else he could have said. There was nothing he could do.

  Before the first anniversary of Riley’s death, Billie realized her move back to Sunbridge wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t enough for Moss, who ghosted about the house shrouded in grief for his son. He thwarted her every attempt at closeness, preferring to lock himself in his workroom with his aeronautics schematics, his memories, and a bottle. He had already dissolved Coleman Aviation; he wanted no part of building government-contracted planes and instrumentation. Moss claimed that it was their fault Riley had died; but he knew that it was his fault for not standing up to them. And that was what tore him apart. He emerged from his workroom with haunted eyes, and an aged weariness slumped his shoulders.

  Billie ached for him, but there was nothing she could do to help. Sharing his bed provided only a momentary respite. Billie realized that Moss was punishing himself and everyone else. But he needed her, and even if her own wants and desires went unfulfilled, she remained at Sunbridge, working by day in her studio and sleeping by night in the lonely bedroom on the second floor of the great empty house.

  There were days when the loneliness was so intense that she believed it was insane to stay. Yet she realized that she had a commitment to Moss ... and to the past. And yes, it was a kind of loving, too, but it was not love.

  Air-mailed letters, phone conversations, unspoken wishes and devotions: these were her love; Thad was her love. She knew she had only to whisper the words and he would come flying into her arms. It was the one thing she would never ask.

  Before two years had passed, Billie was convinced that Moss no longer wanted her at Sunbridge. He had set up a New York office, and he had not been back to Texas in over six weeks. Sawyer was away at school most of the time. The house was lonely, empty.

  She decided to return to Austin, hungry for the stimulation of city life, for the sound of another voice. When she called Moss in New York to tell him she was moving back to her old apartment, his only reaction was surprise that she’d kept the lease for two years. His final words were “I’ll miss you, Billie, but I suppose it’s for the best.”

  Work was Billie’s salvation. Designs spilled from her canvas, and most of them were accepted by textile manufacturers. Her sense of self grew along with her business, but Billie never pushed herself: she wanted to enjoy her accomplishments.

  Billie’s social sphere was expanding and she wondered how she had managed by herself for so many years. The university art department had pleaded with her to teach several classes each week, and in order to lecture on textile design, Billie was forced to learn more about it herself.

  When a major manufacturer of bed linens and tableware seduced Billie into copyrighting designs especially for them, she had to hire an assistant. Judy Wood, a very capable young artist, was put in charge of this new endeavor. Designs by Billie was a runaway success; Billie Coleman had arrived.

  She and Moss were now legally separated—on the advice of Moss’s old family lawyer. Billie no longer thought in terms of legally divorcing herself from Moss. There seemed little point to it—she was already free, in body and in spirit. Perhaps deep inside her she may have harbored the secret hope that things might someday be mended between herself and Moss. For whatever reason, she couldn’t take the action that would untie that final knot. Moss was a part of her—and always would be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Billie hung. the last of the Christmas cards on the narrow garland she’d strung near the fireplace. One of them caught her eye. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY 1979! The sight made her knees want to buckle when it suddenly struck her that soon it would be ten years since her son had lost his life somewhere in Vietnam. Where had that time gone? What had filled her days? The ache in her heart was still as raw as it had been the day she’d been told Riley was dead. How had she lived through it? Ten years of missing his face, his sudden smile, his love.

  Often, more often than she liked to admit, she believed Riley had only been loaned to her and Moss. Conceiving her son had been a contrivance, a deliberate, desperate move to preserve her marriage, to secure Moss’s love, and, shamefully, even to secure her own and Agnes’s position at Sunbridge. Perhaps Riley was never meant to be; perhaps she had somehow forced the heavens into giving her a son.

  “Billie? Darling? What is it?” Thad’s voice, filled with concern, reached out for her. This was the first Christmas they were spending together in Austin, flying in the face of convention. Usually, especially during the holidays, Billie would meet him somewhere.

  “I just happened to notice this card and realized it will soon be ten years since Riley was killed. Sometimes it just reaches up and smashes me in the face. It’s funny, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t mark the day Maggie left home, or Susan. And I have to think to remember the day Seth and my mother were killed. Only Riley.”

  Thad moved across the room to take her into his arms. She nestled her head familiarly against his shoulder.

  “It’s only natural, Billie,” he soothed. “Riley was your son and he’s lost to you. Seth and Agnes were old. You know your daughters live in this world with you. You can hear their voices, reach out and touch them. The heart always yearns for what it can never have. Don’t you know that?”

  “I know in my head,” she told him. “Knowing it here”—she thumped her breast—“is something else entirely....Why don’t you make us that toddy now? I get maudlin when I start thinking like this and I don’t want to spoil Christmas for you.”

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek and released her. As he prepared their drinks, Thad recalled how often over the past ten years he’d ached to tell Billie that Riley had left the legacy of a son, a piece of himself to hold and to love; he knew it would bring her such joy. But Otami would not release him from his promise of secrecy. Thad had explained that Billie didn’t know she had a grandchild, that Moss had never told her of his trip to Japan. For years he’d begged her to reconsider her decision. But Otami believed it was her duty to uphold her dead husband’s wishes in the matter and had refused to give her consent.

  And if Thad broke that promise and told Billie now, after so many years, would she hate him for having kept the knowledge to himself? Would she ever understand his allegiance to Riley and Otami? Thad shook his head. He couldn’t take the risk; losing Billie now, after all these years, was unthinkable.

  Billie curled against Thad as they stretched out before the fire, silently watching the flames flicker, burning away the darkness in the room. Her head rested against his chest; she could hear his heart beating beneath her cheek. They were so comfortable with each other, she thought, yet there was passion, too. His hands played in her hair, brushing the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. Emotions were building within her and she knew that soon he would kiss her lovingly, tenderly, and together they would reach out for each other and share their love.

  As though reading her thoughts, she felt him move beside her, pressing his lips close to her ear. “I like being your lover, Billie Coleman,” he whispered seductively.

  “Lover,” she answered. “I like that word. I like what it means. Somehow, though, I never think of myself as that. It always seemed to fit other people, other women.” He knew she was thinking about Alice Forbes.

  “You are my lover, Billie. We share so much, even though we’re apart for so much of the year.”

  Billie sighed. “Yes, I know. I wonder sometimes how you can be so understanding, so patient.”

  “I love you, Billie. I’ve always loved you; it’s that simple.”

  Billie’s eyes filled with tears. “Hearing those words means so much to me, even at my age.” She struggled for a lau
gh. “Moss never said them, you know. I would tell him I loved him and Moss would always reply, ‘I know,’ as though my loving him were inevitable and deserved. Such simple words and yet they mean so much.” She turned in his arms, embracing him, pressing herself against him. “I love you, Thad. And I want you. I always want you.”

  Thad’s mouth lowered to hers, drawing a deep, loving kiss. Her admissions of love never ceased to touch him; her whispered invitation to make love to her excited him. He captured her mouth with his own, entering to feel the velvet of it. He began the ritual of their lovemaking, feeling and knowing the freshness she brought each time they were together this way. He would never have enough of her; he would never tire of this woman who gave herself so willingly, so gently. Theirs was a finely tuned passion, giving and receiving, enjoying and delighting. He could almost feel her body vibrate with expectancy when he caressed her breasts and possessed them with his lips. When his hand strayed between her thighs she moved against him and he could hear the response to his own passion in the catch of her breath and the deep sound that came from her throat.

  “I love the way you touch me,” she confessed huskily, her own hands reaching for him, drawing him closer, wanting to share this pleasure with him.

  Her body was delicious, her responses exquisite, but it was the gleam of love pouring from her eyes and the pleasure he saw there that evoked his own climax. Billie, his beautiful, loving Billie.

  They lay together, legs entwined, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, warmed by the heat of the fire that bronzed their skin and reflected in their eyes. He soothed and stroked her, enjoying the fullness of her breasts and the smoothness of her skin. In his eyes she was every bit as beautiful as she’d been that day in Hawaii on Diamond Head. Even more beautiful now, he amended, because now the light in her eyes was for him and she brought with her love all the sensitivity and maturity of a woman. “You’re a beautiful lover, Billie,” he breathed. “I never want to be away from you. I want to spend the rest of my life enjoying what we have now, this minute.”

  Billie turned in his arms and kissed him fully, sweetly. If only all of life could be this way, she thought, if only everything were so simple. I love you and you love me and all’s right with the world. But the scars on her heart reminded her it wasn’t so. Life could be bitter and jealous, taking happiness and joy and obliterating them. Perhaps it was maturity—or experience—but Billie had long ago learned not to take even the smallest joy for granted.

  Billie stood at the kitchen sink rinsing the last of the breakfast dishes, a smile playing about her mouth. Thad had made feeble excuses to leave the apartment early, murmuring something about finding authentic plum pudding for Christmas dinner. Billie knew that when he returned, his arms would be full of gaily wrapped packages, which he would unsuccessfully attempt to sneak under the tree.

  When the phone rang, she quickly wiped her hands and ran into the living room to answer it. It was her office manager, Judy Wood, wishing her a merry Christmas and assuring her that things were battened down at the office until after the holiday.

  Billie sank down at her desk, smiling back at a photograph of Sawyer in riding clothes atop her stallion, Menghis. How she loved this bright granddaughter who was so like herself. Sawyer was to arrive in time for dinner tonight, and Billie had to admit that she could hardly wait to see her and hear all about what Sawyer was doing in college.

  “Give the family my love” had been Judy’s parting words. Sawyer and Thad were her family. Her daughters had been invited for the holidays, but they’d declined. She knew that the trip from Europe would be impossible for Susan and her husband, Jerome—who were to appear together in concert during the holidays—but she was disappointed that even after all these years Maggie still refused to share even the smallest part of her life with her parents. Billie knew that Maggie resented Moss’s attitude both to her husband, Cranston Tanner, and to her son, Coleman Tanner. Even Billie was surprised when Moss had accepted the news of his first grandson so blandly, refusing to acknowledge the boy beyond a cash gift for his birthday and at Christmas. It was cruel to Maggie and Billie couldn’t blame her daughter for being offended. And for some reason Moss and Cranston, who was a successful attorney and wealthy in his own right, were constantly at each other’s throat whenever they chanced to be together. This was the first real Christmas Billie would be spending with Thad, here in Austin, and she was glad there would be no tension, no frustration.

  The downstairs buzzer shattered Billie’s reverie. Thinking it was Thad, she ran to the panel beside the front door and pushed the button to allow him into the building. Two minutes later she threw open the front door, ready to rush into his arms. But it wasn’t Thad.

  “Paul McDermott! How nice of you to stop by.”

  “Hello, Billie....”

  “Come in. Can I get you a cup of coffee? You look frozen.”

  “Sounds nice.... Have I come at an inconvenient time?”

  Billie was gracious but bewildered. She and the Coleman family doctor had hardly ever been on social terms. “Not at all.... I can hardly remember the last time I saw you, Paul. Wasn’t it just before the accident in the garage?” Paul had been Seth’s doctor.

  “About then. I didn’t have office hours today and I thought I’d come over. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” He accepted the proffered mug of steaming coffee, sipped it, then placed it on the table near his elbow. “Billie, there’s something I thought you’d want to know. I’m aware that you and Moss no longer live together, but I also know that my coming here was required. I don’t feel as though I’m breaking Moss’s confidence by telling you this, since he didn’t specifically ask me not to....” His jowly face seemed clouded and his words were halting. “Billie, this will be Moss’s last Christmas. He’s dying, Billie. Leukemia. And he refuses treatment. I stopped by Sunbridge today to check on him. He belongs in a hospital, but he won’t hear of it. Is there a chance that the two of you can put aside your differences? ... He needs someone, Billie. He needs you!”

  Billie’s mouth dropped open. The coffee mug trembled in her hand and the world seemed to sway under her feet. She’d heard the words, they’d registered, and now every fiber in her being was denying them. It was a long moment, a very long moment. Something inside her was railing against this betrayal. Ridiculous that she should feel this way, but she knew it was what she was feeling: betrayed. It was something she had become accustomed to dealing with in her life. Agnes, Seth, Moss, Maggie, and even Riley in his own way. “How ... how long has Moss known?” she managed to ask. “You said he refuses treatment. Surely he knows how serious this is.” Again the drum was beating inside her head. Moss knew something like this about himself, something so critical, and he had not told her.

  Paul McDermott marveled at Billie’s control. He’d always admired this shy, unassuming woman. “Moss has known for about six months. He came to me with complaints about his health and the tests have confirmed my suspicions. I’ve only recently learned that he’s kept this from you. He’s been alone for too long and he’s been throwing himself into his work. He always has, I know, but this time it’s almost with a vengeance. I don’t think he ever recovered from Riley’s death. He claims he has work to finish and it’s quite important to him. Hospitals, tubes, medication, would prevent him from completing it, or so he says. Somehow, Billie, I believe him. I’ve seen men afraid of death and doctors, but that’s not the case with Moss. It’s as though he’s resigned to it and simply must go on with his work.”

  “Yes, that would be typical of Moss. Do you think he’ll finish it? His work, I mean.”

  Paul McDermott shrugged. “I have no knowledge of what he’s working on, and if you’re asking me how long he has ...” The words trailed off. “Three months, six, a year? I have no way of knowing, Billie. No one does, really.”

  “Paul, how do I let Moss know you’ve told me?” Her voice sounded dry and raspy.

  “I can’t say for sure. I�
��ve had a long talk with him and at times I had the impression that he might tell you himself. And then again, maybe not. That’s why I took it upon myself. At this point I don’t know what he’s feeling. I thought you’d be the best one to handle it. Can you, Billie?”

  She nodded. “I’m trying.” Then she said with more confidence, “Yes, I can handle it. It must have been terrible for Moss. He must have felt so alone.”

  “He is alone, Billie, but I knew he could count on you.” McDermott was relieved. He’d known Moss for a very long time, and as a rule he didn’t like to become emotionally involved with his patients.

  Billie could only sit there dumbstruck. If only the doctor’s voice weren’t so kind. If only he would say something else, other words that didn’t knife through her this way. “You should be getting home, Paul. It’s the holiday season and you should be with your family.” Family. A mother and a father. A husband and a wife. Children. Grandchildren. Family.

  When Thad arrived back at Billie’s apartment from his impromptu shopping spree, he found her sitting quietly in front of a long-dead fire, staring into the cold, blackened hearth. She was so still that for a moment he thought she’d fallen asleep, but there was something about the rigid set of her shoulders and the pallor of her skin that alarmed him. “Billie?” he said softly, dumping his armful of presents onto the sofa. “Billie, what’s happened?” Alarms began blaring in his skull, and a dull, creeping sensation was prickling the back of his neck.

  Billie kept her eyes averted. She didn’t want to look into that beloved face and see the touches of gray near his temples, reminders of how much time had passed since she’d first known she loved him, evidence of how much time she had wasted. Most of all, she didn’t think she could bear the expression in his eyes when she told him about Moss and the decision she’d come to during the past few hours, a decision that would break his heart.