An hour later, Billie tucked Amelia between the covers in the guest room. "Amelia, we have to talk, just for a few minutes. Cary is coming home this evening. You . .. what I mean is ..."
"I will fess up, if that's what you mean. Cary will understand. I'm sorry I put you in such a spot, Billie. Tell me, how sick do I look? And, Billie, please don't lie to me."
"You look like you're recovering. You do look tired. Amelia, hospitals take their toll. You have to remember that you had a heart attack. You don't beat something like that overnight. We'll have you outfitted in your best bib and tucker when Cary gets here. What he'll see is, his wife is getting better."
"I can tell you're a senator's wife; you've picked up the knack of saying a lot of words that mean nothing. I don't have a lot of time left, Billie."
Billie's vision blurred. "Please, Amelia, don't say things like that."
Amelia's words were so matter-of-fact that Billie flinched. "I've known for a long time. If I'm lucky, a year. Possibly less."
Billie swallowed hard. "If what you say is true, old friend, then you have to make the most of the time you do have. Don't give up, Amelia. I want to see that sparkle back in your eyes. Whatever you can do, I want you to do it. Live, Amelia,
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for me. I'm so selfish. I can't bear to lose you. You're right up there with Thad and the children. Your friendship all these years has meant so much to me."
"Billie, you are the most wonderful person walking the earth. Bless your heart, you are so easy to love."
"Thad keeps telling me that, but what does he know?" Billie said in a choked voice. "I've always been so grateful to you for standing by me, back in the early days. I didn't thank you enough. I should have said the words more often. My life has been so much richer because of you. Some people go through their whole life and never have a true friend. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like without your friendship."
"Are you going to cry?"
"I'm trying not to. Are you?"
"For all the good it's doing me. I need a tissue or else my nose is going to run over these pretty sheets." Billie handed her a box of tissues from the nightstand. "I don't want you feeling sorry for me, Billie. You have to give me your promise. No pitying looks you try to cover up. I couldn't bear that." Amelia blew her nose lustily. So did Billie.
Billie swallowed hard. "I'll.. . I'll do my best, but you have to do your part. I want your promise now that you won't.. . that you .. . will do your best. Now what I think we should do is hug each other and cry our eyes out. Is that okay with you?"
"I keep saying I'm not afraid to die, but it's a lie, Billie. I'm so afraid." Amelia sobbed. "No lifesaving techniques. None. Let me go. You have to do it, make the decision. Cary won't be able to do it. Swear to me, Billie?"
"Yes. And if I go first, you do the same." Billie wept softly against Amelia's shoulder.
"All my organs to someone who ... to the donor bank."
"Mine, too." Billie sobbed.
"Daisies on my grave on my birthday. Will you do that, Billie?"
Billie nodded her head miserably. "Amelia, what will I do without you?"
"Wherever I am, I know God will let me watch over you." Billie was crying harder; her grip on Amelia's thin shoulders was almost fierce. "There will be a letter for you, Billie," Amelia said. "You'll do what I ask in it?" Billie nodded. "You won't forget Cary?" Billie nodded a second time. "He's part of our family, Billie."
They continued to cry for the would-haves, the should-
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haves, the could-haves, until both were exhausted.
"I feel better, Billie," Amelia lied. "I think I can sleep now."
"I feel better, too." Billie returned the lie. "Rest, Amelia. I'll stay here with you till you're asleep."
"Dear, sweet, wonderful Billie. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be my friend for all time. I'm so glad I was right. Thank you, Billie, for allowing me to share my life with you." Amelia's words trailed off in sleep, but still Billie sat on the edge of the bed, her hand in Amelia's. If she could have, she would have breathed her own life into her friend.
What seemed like a long time later, Maggie tiptoed into the room. Her eyes went to the tissue box and then to the waste-basket. It looked to her experienced eye like a fifty-tissue cry. She nodded, satisfied. Mam had made it right, whatever it was. Gently, she loosened her mother's firm hold on Amelia's hand and led her out of the room. "After you wash your face, we should start thinking about what we're going to have for dinner. You said you wanted to make bread. I have everything ready on the counter," Maggie whispered.
"What time does Cary's plane get in?"
"Six-thirty. Rand is going to pick him up. I thought we'd eat around eight, if that's all right with you."
"That sounds fine to me. I'll be down in a few minutes."
"It was Rand's decision to brief Cary on the trip home from the airport. Cary shouldn't walk into this cold. Cary isn't some kid who ... He deserves better."
Billie nodded in agreement.
Cary dragged his carry-on luggage through the concourse, his eyes searching for Rand or Thad. It was Rand who spotted him first. Their handshakes were hearty. Rand grabbed one of the bags. "I think I'm parked at least three miles from here," he said, "so take a deep breath."
"Hold it," Cary said, setting the bag down with a thump. "What happened to 'How was your trip? How did the business go? Man, that's a great tan'?"
"Later."
"No, goddamn it, now! Where the hell is my wife, or is she too damn busy partying to meet me?" Cary all but exploded.
"I said, later," Rand said coldly, aware of the commotion they were causing.
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Cary lowered his voice, but it was still angry and belligerent. "Fuck later, Rand. Either you tell me now, while I'm still in this airport, or I'm taking the next flight to Texas."
The hard expression on Rand's face softened. Of course he wanted to know what was going on, and he had every right to ask. Why had he thought the car would be soon enough? The sudden fright in Cary's face made him reach out. "Amelia had a heart attack, Cary. It happened right after her speech. Now can we go to the goddamn car and talk in private? This is killing me, too, you know."
In the front seat of the Audi, Cary turned to face Rand. He couldn't remember how he got to the car, much less where his bags were. If they'd walked three miles, he couldn't remember.
Rand spoke quietly, leaving nothing out. Cary's face was ashen. Rand had to take the cigarette out of his hand to light it for him.
"I thought. . . Christ, you wouldn't believe what I thought. I did . . . You should have told me. Someone should have—"
"I got here after it happened. Billie had already called you. She didn't want to do it, Cary. Amelia insisted. You can't blame Billie."
"No, no, I don't. I should have been there. Instead, I was out. . . Jesus, you don't know what I did."
"Cary, don't tell me. We can talk when we get on the road, away from this airport. Blue zone, yellow zone, red zone. Why can't they say terminal A or B or whatever it is? It's like a war zone with all these cabbies and cars."
"I thought she was ashamed of me. That she didn't want me there for her big moment," Cary said.
"You've been married to Amelia for a good number of years, Cary. You should know her better than I do. How could you think that of her?"
"It seemed like the only answer. I was waiting for her. I had made such wonderful plans, was going to show her all the places I'd seen, tell her all the folklore stuff I'd learned. That house of yours, where everyone was so happy—I could hardly wait for her to see it. When Billie said she couldn't make it, I.. .hell, forget it."
"Seeing her is going to be a bit of a shock. She's in a wheelchair and she's lost a lot of weight she can't afford to lose. Don't let the shock show." Cary nodded.
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"What do the doctors say? Did anyone call her doctor at home?"
; "The doctors spoke. Cole is going to fly up and take her back as soon as the doctor gives his okay. The prognosis isn't good, Cary." He paused before saying the hardest thing of all. "Maybe a year."
A cold, hard lump settled in Cary's throat. His eyes burned.
"When you say a year, it doesn't sound like much. When you say twelve months, it sounds a little better. Three hundred and sixty-five days sounds like even more," Rand said quietly.
Cary sat back into the softness of the leather seat. His eyes closed wearily, his signal that he didn't want to talk anymore.
Pride. The greatest sin of all. Second on the list was anger. He'd suffered both, and been unfaithful. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Nothing.
Nothing Rand said prepared Cary for the shock of seeing Amelia. This needle-thin person with the sunken eyes couldn't be his wife. For one brief instant he felt repulsed, but he recovered quickly. The smile he pasted on his face didn't feel right. He guessed that it didn't look right, either. What the others took for dismay and grief on his part was really guilt and shame.
Billie wanted to weep with the effort Amelia was putting forth. What was wrong with Cary? Her eyes pleaded with Thad to intervene.
"I get to push the lady in to dinner," Thad said, a little too heartily. "In case you aren't aware, we've been waiting patiently for the pair of you. Roast leg of lamb, mint jelly, those little new potatoes, homemade bread and homemade ice cream and chocolate cake. Billie and Maggie were in the kitchen all afternoon slaving away for this homecoming dinner. Now, let's reward them for a job well done."
"Hear, hear!" Rand joined in. Maggie and Billie took their bows. Billie linked her arm through Cary's.
"You aren't covering it up well enough. More effort is needed on your part, Cary," Billie whispered urgently.
He tried. God alone knew how hard he tried, but the guilt coursing through him was so intense he could hardly eat. His eyes kept going to Amelia, who did her best to avoid his glances. Her bright patter only made him feel worse. He almost jumped out of his skin when Amelia declined dessert and asked if she and Cary could be excused.
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Thad and Rand rose from the table. "I'll carry you up, Mother." Cary mumbled something that sounded like "Excuse me," and went on ahead.
"This is not good. Something's wrong. Do you know what it is, Mam?" Maggie demanded. She felt shaken when her mother's eyes filled with tears. She stared blindly at Thad. Thad wiped at his wife's tears with a napkin.
"Don't cry, darling," he whispered. "Amelia will make it right."
Rand returned to the table and demanded a slice of chocolate cake with three scoops of ice cream. "Move, woman," he said, nudging his wife.
"Hey, I baked the cake. You serve me. Guess who's clearing the dishes, too," Maggie said. Effort made her voice shrill.
"It's my turn anyway," Thad sighed. "For some reason it's always my turn when we have guests."
The bad moment was over.
Amelia seemed lost in the big bed. He'd never seen a frillier room, all ruffles and bows. Even the sheets and comforter that Amelia had pulled up to her chin had little pink bows all over them. It was up to him to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. Any other time, Amelia would have taken pity on him. Either she was too tired or she didn't care anymore.
He turned his back and made a pretense of opening his overnight bag for his toiletries and robe. "You should have told me, Amelia. You shouldn't have gone through this alone."
"Cary, there wasn't anything you could do. I wanted you to go through with the business deal. I didn't want to worry you. That's a woman's lot in life, to shoulder things so as not to worry her husband."
"That's a crock and you know it."
"I can't believe you're angry with me. You have a right to be upset, but not angry. I'm fine. It's going to take a while for me to get on my feet, but I did it before. Come over here and tell me all about your trip and the business deal."
"This isn't something we can gloss over, Amelia. I thought all kinds of things. Billie's phone calls left me feeling you were ashamed of me and you didn't want to share your moment of glory with me. I can't wipe that out in a few minutes. I thank God you're all right, but what you did to both of us was wrong. And yes, I am angry. Because of those feelings, I
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did... Forget it. I should have come home when I finished the business instead of.. .Never mind, it isn't important. What do the doctors say?" he asked grimly.
This was all wrong. Nothing was going the way she'd planned. Cary was supposed to be filled with remorse. Some kind of feeling should be showing on his face. So far, he hadn't said a kind word. Women could cover guilt so much better. She'd given him his chance, at great cost to herself, willingly and selflessly. What was she supposed to do now? Lie about her condition or tell the truth? Make it easy for him? His guilt would probably be less bearable if she told lies.
"Cary, I'm sorry. I was thinking of you. You know I would never be ashamed of you. I always worried that you would be ashamed of me. Like now. I know how I look. I also know how I feel. I understand if you can't. .. can't cope with me or my condition. But to answer your question, the doctors say I have to take it easy, get lots of rest, eat well, fresh air, that sort of thing. I'm mending. If you can forgive me, it will make the recovery process a lot easier on me."
"Amelia, I—"
"Cary, I don't want you feeling guilty. You look guilty, too, so get that look off your face. I won't have it."
Cary sat down on the bed. He took Amelia's thin hand in his own. Sorrow welled up in him. He could feel tears prick at his eyelids. "It's me, babe, who should be saying he's sorry, not you." He started slowly at first and then worked up into a fast chatter. He was pleased when Amelia giggled over some of his tales. At some point during the telling, he'd gotten under the covers. Amelia leaned into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She did her best to stay awake. Her last conscious thought before dropping off to sleep was that she'd given and Cary had taken.
Just as she planned.
Adam paced the living room. He felt old, useless, and a tad sorry for himself. Why was it he could get a bead on other people's problems and practically solve them, but he couldn't get past square one with his own?
He knew now he wasn't going to live out his life here in Texas. He belonged in the city, where something was happening every second of every day. If he stayed here, he was either going to saw off his arm with the chain saw or start the biggest
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bonfire the state of Texas ever saw with all the wood he and Jeff had cut and stacked. Busy work.
He should sell the ranch. Riley might still be interested. Everyone, for the past two years, had been speculating on the oil that might be on his property. Riley would make some kind of fair deal on the oil leases, unlike Coots Buckalew. He was going to have to give the whole thing some very serious thought.
Texas, this ranch, the people—they all reminded him too much of his youth, and Sawyer. Coming here, thinking he'd put down some roots for himself and the boy, wasn't one of his better ideas. He had to put the bullshit aside and get on with his life. But before he did that, he had two immediate problems to handle and resolve. One was Jeff; the other was Sawyer. He could call Sawyer now.
Cole picked up the phone on the third ring, holding it away from his ear when Adam barked out his question. "You want Sawyer's phone number! Why?"
"Because I'm calling her to ask her to marry me. This is her last chance. I've decided to sell this place and go back to New York. If you Colemans want to buy, ante up," Adam barked.
"You're talking to the wrong guy, Adam. I want to shake off the dust of this place as much as you do, and you know it. Riley's the one to talk to. You want to make a deal on the oil leases, right?"
"Damn right. I got a kid to put through eight years of college, and hopefully a wife and kids of my own to support."
"What brought all this on?" Cole asked curiously. Nick, he'd guess.
"I decided it was time to get on with my life instead of sitting on it. If she doesn't want me, okay. I have to know. I haven't asked her to marry me in five years. What do you think my chances are?" Adam asked fretfully.
"As good as they'll be tomorrow or the next day. Go for it; all she can say is no."
"That's my thought. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I always say."
"I always say that, too." Cole chuckled. "Give me a call and let me know what she says. If it's bad news, don't bother."
"It's a deal. Wish me luck."
"You're nuts, you know. Sawyer's okay. I love her, but she's not exactly marriage material in my opinion. You want
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to share her with Coleman Enterprises, then I say go for it."
"Thanks, Cole."
'Tor what?"
"Your blessing. That was your blessing, wasn't it?"
"Hang up, Adam."
Five minutes later, Sawyer picked up the phone.
"Will you marry me?" "
"What?"
"Will you marry me?"
"When?" Sawyer's voice squawked.
"Day after tomorrow."
"Why so long?"
"I thought you might want a church wedding with all the family." Of course, he knew she wouldn't.
"How about when I get home?"
"When's that?"
"A couple of months. Soon."
"Was that a yes? Are you shaking your head up and down?"
"Yep. What's taken you so long?"
"No guts. Will you marry me, Sawyer?"
"Yes, Adam, I'll marry you. As soon as I get home."
"Will we have lots of little Sawyers and Adams?"
"At least one Adam. Call Grand and tell her, okay?"
"Are you sure, Sawyer?"
"Jeez, I was going to ask you when I got back. I'm sure, Adam."
"I decided to sell the ranch. I'll tell Riley it's his if we can work out a deal on the oil leases. That okay with you?"
"I love you, Adam."
"You never said that to me before."
"I could never say it before because I wasn't sure. I am now. I knew when I saw you the last time."
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