Texas Rich

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Texas Rich Page 65

by Fern Michaels


  Most of the trip was made in silence. Amelia dozed occasionally in the corner of the warm car. Rand sat with his arms crossed against his chest, a grim look on his face. Finally he spoke. “You have a pilot’s license?”

  Sawyer nodded. “I will also soon have a degree in aeronautical engineering.”

  Rand’s eyes glowed. It was obvious he approved of what he saw, what he heard. “Shall we call a truce?” he asked, smiling.

  Sawyer looked over at him. “What you see is what you get. Don’t interfere in my life. Don’t for. one minute think I can’t cut it because I’m a woman.” She paused. “Truce.”

  Amelia smiled contentedly. She’d known all along these two would like each other. These little spats, these little declarations and assertions, were all part of getting acquainted. If there was one person she knew in this world, it was Rand, and Rand’s eyes were telling her something was happening to him.

  The crunch of tires on the hard-packed snow alerted Billie that Sawyer was back from the airport. She felt suddenly old and brittle when she got up from the comfortable chair. She checked on Moss, then went to the foyer to meet the new arrivals, careful to close the door behind her. Moss needed his rest and from now on she would see that he got it.

  “Amelia, how wonderful you look!”

  Amelia wrapped her arms around Billie and hugged her. “This is where we both lie to each other and say how neither of us has changed.”

  “It’s not a lie. You look the same, but older.”

  “How’s that for flattery?” Amelia laughed. “You remember Rand?”

  Billie held out her hand to the tall, handsome young man standing beside Sawyer. “It’s been a long time. The last time I saw you, you were clutching Sally Dearest for dear life.”

  Sawyer hooted with laughter. “Sally Dearest? Who or what was Sally Dearest?”

  Rand threw back his head and laughed. It was a pleasant sound and Billie liked him instantly. “Sally Dearest was my cat when I was three years old. She died when I was twelve.”

  “That’s sad.” Sawyer gurgled.

  “They’ve been baiting each other all the way from the airport,” Amelia said happily. Billie grinned. Amelia was already matchmaking. Sawyer, too, had a gleam in her eye. The look on Rand’s face was appreciative.

  “How’s Moss?” Amelia asked anxiously.

  Billie shook her head. “Not too well. He’s sleeping right now. Let’s go into the library. I had fire going a while ago and we can replenish it.”

  “I’m going to take Rand to the workroom to show him the plane. If Grandpap wants me, that’s where I’ll be.”

  Settled in the library alone with Amelia, Billie handed her a glass of sherry. “That’s quite a young man you’ve raised, Amelia. You’re very good with children. Rand and then Susan.”

  “I think it was simply that they were good children to begin with.” She laughed lightly. “I know how difficult it must have been for you to turn Susan over to me that way.”

  “There was little else to do at the time, considering the mess Maggie had created. We all felt it would be better for Susan, although I must admit, I never dreamed she would take to you and England like a duck to water. I’m proud of her, Amelia. She’s made quite a name for herself and she seems very happily married. Even if we’re not close as some mothers and daughters, that doesn’t mean I can’t admire her. And I always had Sawyer. It was like having a second chance.”

  “She’s wonderful. But then, she always was. And she certainly enjoys all the beauty in this family. No, I take that back. You still lay claim to quite a bit of it yourself, Billie. When I look at Sawyer I see you thirty years ago. She’s as much like you as Rand is like his father. Spitting image.”

  “Then I can see why you fell head over heels in love with Rand’s father. Such wonderful blond good looks. He must be thirty-five, thirty-six?”

  “He’s thirty-eight and please don’t remind me! The plastic surgeons tell me I’ve only one more face lift left in this lifetime! God, I wish I had your skin.”

  Billie laughed and refilled Amelia’s glass. The conversation became serious. “I have something to tell you, Amelia. You’re going to have to be strong. It’s Moss. He has leukemia. There’s not much time left.”

  It took several minutes of disbelief and intense questioning before Amelia seemed to accept the truth. “I can’t believe it,” she cried. “Not Moss. He’s all I have left, Billie.” Hard sobs tore at her body.

  “That’s not true. You’ve Rand and Susan and me. We’ve still got one other. Amelia, you must be strong. Don’t make this any harder for Moss than it already is. Promise me you’ll get hold of yourself.” She gathered the woman into her arms, comforting her. Poor Amelia. Poor, lonely Amelia. Throughout her life Moss’s love and approval had always been there for her, steadying her.

  “You know, Billie”—Amelia blew her nose and wiped her eyes—“when things were roughest when I was growing up here at Sunbridge under Pap’s disapproving eyes, it was always Moss I could go to with my troubles. He stood up to Pap for me, protected me. And even when I made a shambles of my life, I always knew I could count on him to love me.”

  “I know, I know,” Billie soothed.

  “When I see him, he’ll know I’ve been told. He’ll see it. There’s no way I can hide it.”

  “I’m not asking you to hide your feelings, Amelia. Of course you should let Moss know how much you love him, how much you’ll miss him. Tell him haw much he’s meant to your life. You’re his sister, the two of you have shared the same beginnings and memories. All I’m asking of you is that you accept his decision to refuse treatment. Allow him his dignity. Don’t press him, Amelia. Think of his suffering before you think of your own.”

  Amelia squeezed Billie’s hand. “Of course you’re right. You know me so well. When you told me that he was refusing treatment I’d already decided that I was going to force him to go to a hospital. Now I’ll simply let him know I’ll always be here if he needs me.”

  “He’ll need you, Amelia. He’ll always need you.”

  The days that followed were intense and frenzied. Moss’s eyes followed Billie constantly. He’d never in all the years they’d been married paid this much attention to her. Now his unwavering gaze was direct and speculative. She sensed he was assessing, gauging, measuring, and liking what he saw. While this pleased her, it didn’t mean half of what she’d thought it would. She no longer needed his approval; but it was nice to know it was there. How ironic.

  It was the evening of the last full day of Amelia and Rand’s visit. Arm in arm, Sawyer and Rand burst into the sunroom, where Billie, Amelia, and Moss were deep in conversation. “If there are no objections,” Sawyer interrupted, “Rand is taking me to dinner in town. Auntie Amelia, it’s all right with you, isn’t it?”

  Amelia nodded agreeably. “Go along. But”—she held up a warning finger—“our flight leaves at seven in the morning, so try and get back before then. It’s a long ride to the airport.”

  “We’ll bloody well be back by then,” Rand replied. “After dinner this child insists we dance the night away. Texas style.” He grimaced. “She’s taking me to a place called Dirty Nellie’s.” Rand looked at Billie. “Will I come out alive?”

  “Good question.” Billie laughed. “Trust Sawyer.”

  When the couple left the sunroom, Moss turned to Billie and Amelia with a strange look on his face. “Isn’t he a little old for Sawyer?”

  Amelia’s jaw dropped. Billie blinked. “Old?” she echoed. “Moss, they’re only going out to dinner. Rand is leaving in the morning. I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Rand has scores of young women fawning over him back home.” Amelia smiled. “Don’t rattle yourself over this little harmless dinner.”

  Moss snorted. “Women are supposed to be astute where romance is concerned. Why haven’t either of you picked up on Rand’s feelings for Sawyer? I certainly saw it. Or does it take a man to recognize the symptoms?” he asked irritably. “
Take him home tomorrow, Amelia, and don’t bring him back until this project is finished. Sawyer has things to do now and I don’t want her distracted.”

  Billie’s gaze flew to Amelia. “We’ll deal with it, Moss,” Amelia said briskly. “They’re sensible adults, and Sawyer knows what’s at stake. . . . Why don’t you relax and take a small nap. Billie, I could use some help in packing. This way, if everything is done, all we’ll have to do is hop out of bed, dress, and be on our way.”

  Moss nodded and closed his eyes. Christ, how he hated these forced naps his body demanded of him. So little time and he had to sleep five times a day. He was half-aware of Billie and Amelia leaving the room. Once he tried to open his heavy lids. He loved to see Billie walk, that charming, crooked little walk that made her rear end sway from side to side. But he was just too tired. He would make a point of watching her tomorrow.

  Sawyer was uneasy. Had it been a mistake to spend this last evening alone with Rand? Perhaps she should have said she was busy. But she wanted to be with him, wanted to sit across from him and feel those dark eyes warm her. It was just as well he was leaving in the morning. But these last few hours tonight were hers.

  Rand’s capable square hand reached for Sawyer’s across the tabletop. His golden handsomeness was illuminated by the tapered candles and the reflected light of the chandeliers. “I’ve always loved England, and no matter where I was I couldn’t wait to return. This time it’s different. I don’t want to go back. You’re quite a girl, Sawyer Coleman, and I think—no, I know that if I stayed I would . . . Do you believe I can’t get the words out?”

  Sawyer tried for a good-natured smile. “I’m sorry you’re leaving. We just got to know each other. I’ve enjoyed the time we spent together in my grandfather’s workroom.”

  . “I’m more than a little in love with you, Sawyer. We’ve both skirted around it, but Christ, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “I know. I know. I can’t get involved. I have a commitment to my grandparents. What kind of person would I be if I turned my back on my responsibilities?”

  “I’m not asking you to do that.”

  “Listen to me, Rand,” Sawyer said, leaning over the table, both hands clasped in his. “I’m one of those people who can only do one thing at a time. This project has top proprity. If I slip or deviate even a little, I won’t be able to get back on track. It wouldn’t be fair to you, either. By now you must know I don’t do things halfway. It’s one hundred percent or not at all.”

  Rand nodded. “For a while I thought it was my age. What you’re telling me is it’s chin up and all that English rubbish. I thought you wild-west characters didn’t deny your feelings.”

  “I’m not denying my feelings. I’m saying I can’t act on them. I want you to come back. I know you promised my grandmother you would come if she needed you. I’d like to think that holds for me, too.” Rand’s answer was in his eyes. Sawyer swallowed hard and squeezed his hand.

  “Grand has taken on quite a challenge seeing that Pap’s plane gets off the ground. I just hope and pray we haven’t bitten off more than we can chew. Oh, Rand, it’s simply horrible, but I don’t think he’ll ever see his dream become a reality. Every day takes its toll on him. I’m sure you’ve noticed. I can see the day-to-day changes in him and it breaks my heart. I have to stay here and do what I can.”

  “Moss’s dream has been shared by many others. There’s been talk of a slant-wing craft for as long as I can remember. I want to go on record right now, Sawyer: That specification we’ve been fighting over the past few days isn’t going to work.” Rand reached for a pen out of his breast pocket and made scratches on the back of the menu.

  “I think this design has a good chance, Sawyer. Other oblique-winged craft have been tried, but as far as I know, no one has tried cantilevering the wing span, as you want to do.”

  Rand scratched a detailed design, one that had become very familiar to Sawyer over the past two weeks. The craft was a long needle-nose design with a single wing positioned above the fuselage. For operation at low speeds or takeoff and landings, the wing would be positioned conventionally, at right angles to the craft. For flight at higher speeds, the wing pivoted at an oblique angle of up to sixty degrees with the fore and aft centerline of the fuselage, reducing drag and promising greater speed and range without an increase in fuel consumption.

  “Damn you, that cantilevering will work!” Sawyer cried. “I had the best engineers working on it. Why are you being so stubborn? You haven’t been able to give me one good, justifiable reason except gut instinct that it won’t work. That isn’t good enough. I deal in facts and figures. I thought intuition was a female trait.”

  Rand held up his hand. “Okay, okay, you win. The specification stays. What I think Moss is really on to is the unusual composite material. Strong and lightweight. The foam core he’s developed is revolutionary. He’s quite a man, your grandfather. I wish I’d known him better all these years.”

  Sawyer felt momentarily drained. Arguing with Rand over something so important made her feel terrible. She was right; she had to be right. Every engineer in the plant said so. Yet she trusted Rand’s opinions and knew he wasn’t just trying to be difficult. “There’s not a chance in hell that that plane could go down. I’d stake my life on it,” Sawyer said forcefully.

  “It won’t be your life, Sawyer; it will be the life of the test pilot.”

  “I’ll take that responsibility.”

  “Taking responsibility is one thing; living with the result is something else entirely.”

  “Damn you, Rand, don’t keep doing this to me. You can’t shake my confidence. Pap trusts me and so do all the other engineers.”

  “They don’t love you the way I do,” Rand murmured.

  There was a pause. Then Sawyer said quietly, “This isn’t supposed to happen.”

  “The one thing you can’t count on in this world is emotion.”

  “Maybe you can’t count on it, but you can control it,” Sawyer countered desperately.

  “I hope you do better at it than I’m doing.”

  “I won’t let anything interfere or stop me. Accept that, Rand.”

  “I have. Why do you think I’m leaving tomorrow? But I’ll be back. Now that’s something you can count on.”

  Sawyer nodded miserably. The tears glistening on her lashes tore at Rand. “Shall we order?” she said with false bravado. “I’m starving!”

  “I’ll bet you are, you little savage.” He laughed, trying for levity. “You’re always hungry.”

  “Don’t blame me,” she chided, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. “If I can’t nourish my soul, then my stomach takes precedence.”

  “Sometimes, Sawyer, I think you need a good spanking just to remind you to behave like a lady. And watch those devilish eyes. I just might change my mind about leaving tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The long days of winter were upon them. Moss’s workroom was cramped and on the dark side of the house, so Billie demanded that he move everything out to her studio, where the sun could shine through the glass doors and there was enough space for the technical engineers and designers in Moss’s employ to move about freely. Moss’s oblique-winged aircraft was becoming a reality. Manufacture of component parts and the construction of the plane itself had been under way in one of the old Coleman Aviation hangars since early last summer. All systems were go.

  Billie set aside her own business, completing only the work for which she was already under contract. Now she spent her days and many of her evenings working beside Moss, answering the telephone, setting up schedules, and doing general dogwork. The studio was also ideal because of the proximity of the bedroom. In the big house the bedrooms were far removed from the workroom, and Moss could not be persuaded to leave his work and lie down. Here, with the work proceeding just outside the door, Billie could more easily cajole him into taking a nap. The little kitchen in the studio became a central hub from which delicious aroma
s of freshly brewed coffee, soups, stews, and snacks could tempt Moss’s appetite. So much activity, so much work, yet nothing could forestall the ravages of the disease attacking his body. By will alone, Moss presented himself each day to his men, never allowing his optimism to flag. He worked them hard, praised them often, and was genuinely grateful for their energy and loyalty. It was when he was alone with Billie that he allowed his doubts to show. “You’ll see it’s finished, won’t you, Billie?” he would plead. And always she would promise.

  One afternoon in early May, Moss went into the bedroom without prompting. Billie called the crew chief over, worry darkening her eyes. “I think you and the men should make an early day of it, Joe. Things aren’t good with Moss.”

  “We’ll leave as soon as we clear up a little, Billie. He’s been looking bad all week.” The burly man shook his head, already grieving. “Don’t you think you should get him to a hospital or something?”

  “No, Joe. He doesn’t want that. Dr. McDermott comes out every other day to check on him and keep him comfortable. He told me just yesterday that Moss was already in renal failure. It won’t be long now.”

  “Go to him, Billie. I’ll take care of things out here and before we leave I’ll take the phone off the hook so he won’t be disturbed.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” Her eyes were already wandering to the closed bedroom door. “Tell the men thanks for everything and I think they should take the next few days off. I’ll keep in touch.”

  For the next three days Billie remained at Moss’s side. He was no longer able to get out of bed and he made feeble jokes about being as weak as a kitten. Paul McDermott had told Billie what to expect and wanted to send out a nurse to help her. Billie rejected the offer. “I’ll let you know if I need help. Right now, I’m certain I can manage.”

 

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