Cary reached for her hand. The desire to make love to her one last time was strong; he thought he would pass out with
{314}
the feeling. She read his intent and slowly shook her head. "It's over for us. For now anyway."
"I don't care anymore. You notice there were no calls while you've been here. That says it all as far as I'm concerned."
She hated playing devil's advocate, but play she would, for Cary. "Maybe the phone isn't working. Did you try it?" The naked hope in Cary's eyes was more than she could bear. She watched with tears in her eyes as he reached for the white phone on its little table. The pinging dial tone made his face harder than granite. Julie got to her feet and stared down at him. She wanted to ask, to demand, if she was just a fill-in for Amelia, something to while away the time, but she couldn't; the words wouldn't slip past her swollen tongue. Oh, he felt something for her, but it wasn't like the love he felt for Amelia. Her heart was breaking.
"I think we should start back," she said quietly.
"I don't want to leave," Cary said harshly. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. "I love you; I want you to know that. No matter what you think, I do. I can see all kinds of things in your face, and I guess I don't blame you for what you're thinking. I didn't know it was possible to love two women at the same time, but it is. I need to know how you feel about me, Julie."
Should she laugh or should she cry? Truth or lie? Because she didn't know how to lie successfully, she opted for the truth. "I think I love you more than life."
There was a desperation in Cary's voice when he said, "I'll come to New York, I swear I will, every chance I get. I'll write, I'll call every day. I need you, Julie. What will I do without you?"
Tears flowed down Julie's cheeks. How could something that felt so right be wrong? She'd known when she came here, that this was all there was going to be. Once they were back home, he in Texas, she in New York, things would change. You couldn't take paradise home with you.
"Wait here," Cary said. "I want to make one last sweep of the house to make sure all the windows are closed and all the plugs are out." Julie waited. She'd washed all the dishes and the towels. Early this morning she'd laundered the sheets and remade the bed. The owners would find their house the way they left it and probably never know that she'd fallen in love
{315}
with Cary here, much the same way Billie had fallen in love with Thad, and Maggie with Rand.
She cried all the way to the airport, blowing her nose every few seconds. Thank God she'd brought sunglasses.
Amelia refused to look into the mirror the nurse handed her. Looking into a mirror would only make her feel worse. She pretended, for all their sakes, that she was feeling better and on the mend, but even a fool would know this was the end of the road. It had been a beautiful, wonderful road to travel. She closed her eyes, and the past came alive again. She'd met her first husband, Rand's father, in England during the War. She'd loved him and she'd buried him. His legacy to her was his son—her son now. Further down the road she'd met Billie, her brother Moss's wife then, whom she loved so dearly. Billie, kind and wonderful, the sister she'd never had, who helped her through those awful years with her father, who had hated her from birth. Billie had eased the pain when her mother had died. Billie had shared her own daughter Susan with her; they'd raised Susan together. She could always count on Billie. She was never more than a phone call away with her love and support. She wondered if it was possible to take a mental picture of someone into eternity. If it was, Billie's countenance would be with her.
Her thoughts turned to her own past, her own life and loves. For a while, after she returned from England, she'd hurried down her own long road, stopping often to pick up a stranger to fill the empty spots in her life. The road had been rocky then, but it smoothed out when she met Cary Assante —her reason for living.
Now her road had crested; she was looking at a steep decline. Part of her wanted to backtrack, to return to the smooth sections of the road she'd traveled, that long, lovely stretch where she'd been happiest, but it couldn't be. She had only two options. She could continue to stand at the top of the road, where she was right now, for another six months, a year at most; or she could start her descent to the end of the road.
Amelia leaned back into her nest of sterile white covers. She was needle-thin now, hardly making an indentation in the bedding. Her eyes closed wearily and then she forced them to snap open. She was greedy; she wanted more. The road was still visible. She had to continue down the road until. . .
{316}
She thought about her funeral. It would be simple; she'd be on the hill with her mother, a nice place to be for the rest of eternity. All her family would grieve; Billie would grieve the most. Grief was short-lived; life went on. She knew that better than anyone. Life and God had been good to her. She'd never been one of those who asked God for something and then said, if you give me this, I'll do that. No, that wasn't strictly true; she'd done that once, when she was eleven or so. She'd prayed to God that her father would love her. She'd prayed on bended knees, promising to muck the barns for a month if He granted her wish. She hadn't expected an outpouring of love, just a few kind words. When they weren't forthcoming she forgave God with her eleven-year-old wisdom and mucked the barns anyway. God simply didn't have time for lost causes.
She wondered then who would send flowers and who would donate money in her name to different charities. A tear slid down her cheek. She'd never know. What she did know was she'd get a whopping send-off—Texas-style. What the hell, she deserved it. She tried to smile. What she had to remember, what she mustn't ever, ever lose sight of was yes, she was leaving them —but she was leaving behind someone who was kind and warm and loving. Someone to take her place.
Amelia marshaled all her Coleman guts, all her love for her family, and sat up in bed. They'd be here soon to take her to Billie's house. A slight detour. It wasn't the end of the road ... yet.
Ivy stared out of her dormitory window at the scenes being played out below. Damn it, she wouldn't cry! She just wouldn't! Down there, all over the campus everyone was laughing and crying and hugging one another. Graduation! Entire families, from all over the country, were here for their son's or daughter's moment of glory. And what and who did she have? Not one single, goddamn thing. No congratulatory cards, no telegrams, no presents, and not one family member. She hadn't expected ... but she had hoped. And not even a damn phone call!
Magna cum laude wasn't too shabby. She bit down on her lower lip as her right hand patted her right shoulder. "Well done, Ivy," she whispered. She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Okay, Buckalew, put that cap and
{317}
gown on and get over to the auditorium. You're the star today!" Ivy did as she instructed herself. She spent extra moments looking at the honors tassels on her cap. She'd busted her hump for these, but it was worth it. Her head was high as she walked to the door. Her hand was on the knob when the door pushed inward.
"You Ivy Bookalew?" a young kid demanded.
"Yep."
"Then I guess this is for you. I been chasing all over this place looking for you. They told me downstairs everyone was already moved out. Sign here."
Ivy's hand trembled as she ripped at the telegram. Her smile rivaled the bright May sunshine as she read the words on the yellow paper. Congratulations! It was signed, Riley.
Ivy's step was light as she made her way to the auditorium, where the commencement exercises were to be held. All those people, hundreds, maybe a thousand or so, and no one for her. She was the last to take her place in the front row of the platform.
It was a beautiful day, one made especially for graduations. A light breeze ruffled the tassels on her cap. She reached up to straighten them, the small square of yellow still clutched in her hand.
So many people, all dressed in their best, sitting here straining for a glimpse of their son or daughter. Riley's telegram was easing her hurt, bu
t she still couldn't bring herself to look at the front row of seats. Two of them, right in the middle, had been reserved by the dean himself for her mother and father. She should have told the dean her parents wouldn't be coming. She'd meant to, but she hadn't. Why hadn't she told him? Shame, anger, dismay? Those two seats were going to stare up at her like black holes when she was at the podium giving her speech.
Some of the magic left the little square she held in her hand. It couldn't take the place of her family. She bent over to slip it into her shoe and then she saw her. . . right in her line of vision. "Lacey!" she squealed. Lacey waved wildly.
"The plane was late." Lacey mouthed the words, flapping her arms to imitate wings that flew too slowly. She grinned and gave her sister a proud thumbs-up salute. Ivy returned it, tears sliding down her cheeks. It was all right now.
After the commencement exercises, Lacey drew Ivy to the shelter of a tree with a circular bench underneath. "You didn't
{318}
think anyone was coming, did you?" Not waiting for her sister's reply, she continued. "I saw it in your face. You were in shock when you saw me. God, Ivy, I thought you'd know I'd come. I am so proud of you. There aren't any words. I'm sorry that Mama—"
"It's okay. I guess they were busy. I didn't think you'd be able to come, either. I hoped, though. I never stopped hoping; I want you to know that. We lost so much ground there for a while, and even though you've been writing ... the trip ... the cost and all."
"You lost weight," Lacey laughed.
"And you gained some. You look real good, Lacey, real good."
"I have this... new boyfriend. He says he likes women with a little meat on their bones. You'll like him, Ivy."
"Why not, if he had the good sense to pick you?" Ivy said warmly.
"Thanks for that, Ivy."
Ivy took a deep breath. Lacey had a new boyfriend. That meant... She felt whole suddenly, alive and eager to get on with this new relationship with her sister. "I appreciate... God, Lacey, when I looked down and saw you sitting there ... it was like ... oh shit, you know what I mean ..."
Lacey hugged her sister. "I know exactly what you mean. When the plane was late, I wanted to jump out of my skin. I gave the taxi driver twenty dollars to break a few speed laws. I had to be here."
The leaves of the sycamore rustled in the warm breeze. Golden sunshine splattered at their feet on the mossy-looking grass. Ivy grinned and pointed at the intricate sunny patches. "That's what we all need, Lacey, sunshine in our lives. I think we finally got it."
"You never answered my letters, Ivy," Lacy said gently. Her eyes went to a cluster of fat pigeons foraging for crumbs from leftover lunches. She couldn't look at Ivy while she waited for her answer. The eyes always said it all. Especially with Ivy.
"I ... I was afraid I'd say the wrong thing. ... You know me, I always say—in this case, write—the first thing that pops into my head. I figured if I didn't write at all you'd get ticked off and then I'd know.. . Lacey, you still came to my graduation ... even when I didn't write." Ivy waved her hands helplessly in the air. "Put yourself in my place, Lacey. It's
{319}
been . . . years... maybe all my life, that I've lived with. .. rejection and hurt ... I guess I don't know how to act when people are nice to me. Maybe you could... sort of help me overcome that."
Lacey laughed, a pure, musical sound of amusement. "The blind leading the blind. My life was no different from yours. You just saw it differently. We've taken the first few steps; the rest will fall into place. Let's go get your stuff and load up your car and catch a bite to eat. A drink, too, to toast your honors. Oh, Ivy, I am so very proud of you."
"I feel like I have the world by the tail," Ivy laughed as she skipped alongside Lacey, their arms entwined. "Riley sent me a telegram!"
Lacey didn't miss a beat. "That's great. Give him a little slack and he'll come around. You'll be the best thing that ever happened to him."
The clump of pigeons scattered suddenly and took wing. Both girls stopped and looked upward. "I feel like I'm flying with them," Ivy said softly.
"You are," said Lacey. "So am I. You can fly with your feet on the ground. Didn't you learn anything in college?"
"Nan. That's what big sisters are for." They both laughed then, a warm, carrying sound that brought the pigeons back in a cluster around their feet. They were still laughing and smiling as they touched each other's arm from time to time, all the way back to the dorm.
"This is a new beginning for both of us, Lacey. Let's not screw up, okay?"
"You got it, little sister."
Little sister, big sister. A unit, part of a family. A twosome.
Sisters.
{320}
{{{{{{{{{ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN »}»»»
Billie and Maggie stood side by side. Billie's hand searched out her daughter's. Maggie grasped it tightly. Both were silent, each busy with her own thoughts about how to react when Rand brought Amelia home.
"I feel so awful, Maggie. For days now I've been lying to Cary. What must he think? And Amelia; I can't believe she's given up. She was such a fighter. All she keeps saying is it's her time. I don't believe that. Cary should have been here; tomorrow isn't soon enough. He should be bringing Amelia home, or at least standing here with us."
"Mam, you had to do what Aunt Amelia wanted. Don't start blaming yourself. I refuse to believe she's given up. It's going to take time. I know, I know she's been saying all along she's here on borrowed time, but that was her way of.. . Don't ask me what it is she's covering up. It's just a feeling I have."
"An invalid. Amelia will never accept it. I know her. We've been friends for almost forty years." A sob caught in Billie's throat. "Maggie, I don't know if I can carry this off."
"Mam, all my life you've told me you can do what you have to do. You have to do it for Amelia."
"I am angry with her, Maggie. Cary is going to be angry with all of us, and I can't blame him."
"Mam, I have to confess something. It's so awful I don't even know if I can get the words out. God should strike me dead for such thoughts, but I don't want to keep it bottled up."
Billie was immediately full of concern. "The worst thing you can do is bottle something up. What is it, darling?"
Tears rolled down Maggie's cheeks. "Mam, next to you, you know I love Aunt Amelia best. I never met anyone who could talk turkey to me like she used to do. When we got here Rand was one step away from a nervous breakdown. Amelia's heart attack made him stand back and look at his priorities. Mam, I was glad Amelia got sick, because Rand started acting like a human being again. It took Amelia to bring him back, and when I say back, Mam, I mean back. I thought I was losing him. I saw
{321}
it all washing away. I feel so awful. I don't want Amelia to be sick. I don't want Rand to have a nervous breakdown either. I want things to be right for all of us. I don't know if you'll believe this or not, but I wasn't just thinking of myself, not really."
"Maggie, darling, what you felt was perfectly normal. If Thad were involved, I would feel the same. Don't torture yourself. God works in mysterious ways, as we all know. He has it all in hand."
Maggie dabbed at her eyes. "Thanks, Mam. You're probably the only person in the world who would admit to possibly feeling the same way."
"One time Amelia thanked me—actually she blessed me —for admitting that I wore socks to bed to keep my feet warm. Now, where did that memory come from?" Billie laughed. It was a strangled, crying sound.
"I think I hear the ambulance. Pinch your cheeks, Mam; dry your tears and look cheerful. Smile, Mam; we can do it for Amelia."
"Maggie, she's in a wheelchair. I wasn't expecting a wheelchair. I thought Rand would carry her in or the ambulance attendants would carry her. I wasn't expecting... Maggie, she's in a wheelchair!"
Maggie's hand in her mother's tightened. "It's temporary. And she'll be able to stay downstairs instead of being confined to bed, like Grandmam Jessica. Smile, Mam, here they come."
Maggie herself smiled brilliantly, her arms outstretched in welcome to both her husband and her aunt.
"Just in time for lunch," Billie cried. She leaned over to kiss Amelia's dry cheek. "Welcome home, Amelia."
Maggie followed her mother's lead and kissed Amelia's other cheek. "We've been cooking up a storm all morning, from scratch," Maggie said enthusiastically. Her husband's eyes thanked her as she busied herself with their coats and Amelia's hospital bag.
"The sun is accommodating us today, too. The breakfast nook is warm and bright. All your favorites, the ones you're permitted to have. Your doctor sent a list home with Rand last evening," Billie babbled.
"I don't want you to fuss," Amelia said wanly.
"Amelia, listen to me. I have nothing to do here but sit around and wait for Thad to come home. I like to fuss for the people I love. Maggie does, too, so we made it a joint effort.
{322}
Doesn't the house smell wonderful? The cinnamon is real. Rice pudding."
By the time lunch was over, Billie was exhausted. Maggie herself looked weary. Rand was alert, his eyes rarely leaving Amelia's face.
How tired she looks, Billie thought in dismay. How very, very old. This thin stick of a woman was really Amelia. Dear God, what was Cary going to say when he arrived this evening? She pushed that thought as far back in her mind as it would go. All the life seemed to have drained from her friend. Would Cary's return bring back the spark that kept Amelia going? She wished she knew.
"Amelia, how would you like a warm, delicious, delectable bubble bath? I can wash your hair, and Maggie can set it for you. You can get out of those awful hospital things. Rand bought one of those special seats for the tub."
"What I'd really like to do is take a nap."
"That's fine, but let's make sure it's the best nap you can have. A warm bath first and a good cup of tea will do the trick."
Texas fury Page 39