Texas Heat

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Texas Heat Page 27

by Fern Michaels

Susan’s heart thumped. Disconnected? Why? Despite the resentment she felt, regardless of his rejection of their child, Susan’s feeling toward her husband were ambiguous. More than ever, she wanted someone to share this experience with—Maggie and Amelia simply weren’t enough. A child should know its own father, and that father should provide a home for his family. Even if that father was Jerome, damn him.

  “Well, I have to be going,” Cary said, standing up and bending over to kiss Amelia on the cheek. “I should be back by mid-afternoon. Nice to see you again, Rand. Maggie, is there anything I can bring back from Crystal City for you?”

  “No, it’s all under control. Thanks for asking, though. Please, drive carefully; the roads are bad.”

  “’Bye, darling, see you later,” Amelia called gaily.

  “You be careful driving, too. Don’t forget, Eileen will be with me.”

  “Darling, how could any of us forget?” Amelia said coolly. “You’ve mentioned it at least a dozen times.”

  “Who’s Eileen?” Rand asked after the door closed behind Cary.

  “The girl who works in Cary’s office,” replied Maggie, glancing apprehensively at Amelia. “It seems she’ll be alone for the holiday and Cary asked if she could spend Christmas with us.”

  “Excuse me, all,” Amelia said stiffly. “I want to call down to the barn and have them bring up some rock salt. Riley, dress warmly and see if you can’t find the snow shovel. It used to hang inside the cellarway. Is it still there, Maggie?”

  “As far as I know. Drive slowly. We’ll keep the fires burning and have a toddy ready for you when you get back. Is there any last-minute wrapping you want me to do?”

  “No, I’ve got it all covered. You’ll be busy enough entertaining Sawyer when she arrives.” Amelia looked at her pointedly. “She’s due soon, isn’t she?”

  “Around noon, I believe.” Maggie smiled and hoped her breezy tone would drive the disapproving look from Amelia’s face. “Have fun, you two! See you later.”

  Susan excused herself right after Amelia and Riley left. There was an awkward silence, and then Rand spoke.

  “It appears we’re alone,” he said quietly. “You’re acting like a cat on a hot griddle. In other words, sweet, you’re feeling guilty.”

  “Am I?” Maggie whispered. “I guess it’s because I am.”

  “For God’s sake, Maggie. We went through all this. You told me just last week on the phone you were your own person and you were going to do what you wanted, and that included me. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No ... yes ... oh, I don’t know. I so wanted this Christmas to be perfect. First, Mam can’t make it. Amelia disapproves of us and is acting as though I stole her jewels. Susan is avoiding me. Cole refuses to do more than look at me, and when our eyes do meet, his are full of disgust. Riley is torn. Sawyer will be here soon. My God, I feel like a thief. Please, you have to try and understand.”

  “I do understand. I shouldn’t have come. It was a mistake, Maggie. I don’t like playing games.”

  “Neither do I,” Maggie said, so quietly Rand had to strain to hear her.

  “I think I’m in love with you, Maggie.”

  “Don’t say that. Not now.”

  “It’s Sawyer, isn’t it? The rest you can handle.”

  “I’m not sure. You know how I feel. My God, yes, I want you. I’ve caused so much hurt in this family I can’t cause any more. You have to understand my position.”

  “No thumbing your nose at them and happy ever after?” Rand asked quietly.

  “Maybe I could come to England.... We . . . could ...”

  “Goddammit, Maggie, I’m not talking about some cheap affair. I’m talking about you and me. Us. Our lives.”

  “The others ... they’ll think ...”

  “Who the devil cares what they think? We have to think about what’s best for us. They’ll all come to accept it. Don’t make this more difficult than it is now.”

  “I do care about the others. My son, Mam, Riley ...”

  “What about Sawyer?” Rand asked coldly. “That’s what this is all about, you know. Admit it. Mother versus daughter. I’m in the middle.”

  Maggie’s face closed. “That must make you feel pretty powerful. Two women in love with you.”

  “Sawyer is in love with an image. I wasn’t sure till now that you care for me. Is the word love so hard to say?”

  “For me it is. I never had any. I’m not even sure I know what love is. The concept of love, maybe. I do feel something for you I’ve never felt for anyone else. But you’re wrong about Sawyer. Sawyer loves you with her whole heart. For Sawyer it was now and forever. That kind of love. How could you not have seen that?” Maggie asked angrily.

  “I did see it, damn it. Don’t jam home the guilt, Maggie. I was Sawyer’s first love. That will always be special to her. I didn’t love her enough. It has to be mutual or it doesn’t work. You have to realize that I was a father image to Sawyer. I believe that in my heart. You have to believe it, too. You had the same kind of problem with your own father.”

  Tears burned Maggie’s eyes. Sawyer, always Sawyer. “Could we just put all this on hold, get through Christmas, and then work it out?” she asked, swallowing hard. “I really can’t deal with it today.”

  “Right now I feel if I don’t take you in my arms, I won’t be able to take another breath,” Rand said hoarsely.

  “Right now if I don’t get up from this table, I will let you do exactly that, and then I’ll end up hating both of us. This is the way it has to be ... for now. Forgive me,” Maggie whispered as she ran from the room.

  Only in her own room with the door closed behind her did she let go. Why me? Why is it always me? I didn’t lead him on. I didn’t set out to snatch him from Sawyer. It just happened. I’m sorry. I can’t change feelings. Why do I have to be the one who has to give everything up? Why does Sawyer get it all?

  Maggie watched as the snow swirled about the treetops. She’d seen enough Texas storms to know this one was just about over. The snow was fine, powdery, perfect for skiing. There must be at least six inches on the ground. The drifts on the north end of the house were up to the windows on the first floor. As a child she and Susan had jumped and played snow angel in them. How long ago that was!

  Something churned inside Maggie. A need to confide, to talk, to seek answers to her problems. Susan was besieged with her own worries right now, and Amelia, while loving, was disapproving. Mam? She could give it a try.

  Quickly, she dialed the familiar number in Vermont, only to be told the power and telephone lines were out due to the storm. Service would most likely be restored by late afternoon. But that was too late. She needed to talk now.

  In the blink of an eye, Maggie had on wool slacks and her heavy parka. She found her boots by the kitchen door in the boot tray.

  “If anyone asks where I am, you don’t know,” Maggie told Martha as she pulled on her boots over heavy socks. She almost laughed at the startled expression in the woman’s eyes. “It’s uphill most of the way. The drifts are on this side. Look, it’s almost stopped snowing.” Before leaving the kitchen, she plucked a bright red poinsettia from a plant on the kitchen counter.

  The gravestones looked desolate with their mantles of snow. Mittened hands dug a hole in the snow. Already the poinsettia was frozen; she propped it up with scoops of snow. It looked like blood—her blood. “Merry Christmas, Pap,” she said softly. “I think I’m just going to wing this one.”

  Maggie returned the way she’d come. She placed her boots neatly in the back door tray, hung her parka on the wooden coatrack near the back door. Martha held out a cup of coffee for her, which she accepted gratefully as she made her way up the back stairway to the nursery. She felt better. At least she was in control of her emotions now. Fresh air had a way of clearing the head.

  She didn’t see him at first simply because she didn’t expect anyone to be in the room.

  “That was a damn fool thing to do,” Rand said c
oolly.

  “Yes, I suppose it was,” Maggie replied just as coolly. “However, it was something I needed to do. I usually do what I want. I’m all grown-up now.”

  “Being grown-up doesn’t necessarily mean you always make the right decisions. We need to talk, Maggie.”

  “No. Not now.”

  “When? Tomorrow, next week, next month, a year from now? When? Give me a time and a date.”

  “I can’t do that. Don’t pressure me, Rand. This isn’t any easier for me than it is for you. I’m going to have to handle it my way, and you’re going to have to handle it my way, too.”

  “You really mean it, don’t you?” Rand asked incredulously.

  “Yes, I do.” Maggie’s gaze was level, defying Rand to pursue the matter. When the door closed behind him, her shoulders slumped.

  Her cheeks were as rosy as if she’d dusted them with crimson rouge. Biting wind or... Rand?

  Rand marched downstairs to the beat of a drummer he’d never heard before. He headed straight for the study and the portable bar.

  Susan looked up from the magazine she was reading. “A bit early, isn’t it?” she asked gently.

  “Early, late. What the hell difference does it make?”

  “A lot, if you really care about Maggie. If she sees you hitting the sauce because you can’t handle... whatever, she might—I’m not saying she will but she might—decide to take a drink herself.”

  Rand was a straight-up two-finger whiskey man. His hold on the bottle was tight, the knuckles stretched taut. He put the bottle back in the rack and picked up the newspaper.

  Susan sighed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to lecture and preach. That’s the one thing I don’t do. I really believe I’ve become a fatalist.”

  Rand nodded absently. His innards were roiling. He glanced at his watch. Allowing two hours for bad weather, road conditions, and other acts of God, Sawyer should be arriving within the hour. He almost wished he were back in England.

  “So, what did you get everyone for Christmas?” Susan asked.

  Rand’s teeth dug into his lower lip. “What you really want to know is what I got Maggie and Sawyer.”

  “You must have had a tough time selecting the gifts that would say something, yet say nothing. Men are always so conscientious that way. One gift for commitment and one for.... What’s the word for discarded?”

  “Knock it off, Susan. I’ve had about enough.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I...Forget it.

  “It’s almost Christmas Eve. Peace on earth, goodwill to men, right?”

  “If you say so.” Rand sat down in the chair opposite Susan and picked up one of the newspapers from a nearby coffee table. “Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?” he asked idly.

  “As a matter of fact, I have. If it’s a boy, it’s going to be called Moss. If it’s a girl, it will be Jessica. What’s the news in the paper?”

  “It’s full of peace on earth, goodwill to men. What else do you want to know?”

  “Not a thing,” Susan said, going back to her magazine.

  It was three o’clock when Cole returned to the house, his arms laden with red-ribboned boxes. Amelia and Riley arrived fifteen minutes later, each going their separate way. Maggie was halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rang. Susan entered the foyer from the dining room, opened the door, and immediately squealed with delight.

  “Sawyer!”

  Maggie’s stomach heaved as she forced a smile to her lips and continued down the stairs.

  Mother and daughter locked glances for just an instant. “Merry Christmas, Sawyer.”

  “Merry Christmas, Maggie. Where shall I put all these?” Sawyer asked, indicating two huge shopping bags. “The other packages arrived, didn’t they?”

  “Yesterday. I took off the wrapping paper and string. They’re in the hall closet.”

  “That was nice of you. Thanks. Where is everyone?” Maggie waved her hands about. “We’re having eggnog shortly and then tree trimming. Come along into the study. Susan, where are you going?”

  “Where I go every ten minutes, the bathroom. Merry Christmas, Sawyer.”

  As Sawyer hugged Susan, her eyes met Maggie’s for the second time.

  “I guess you know your grandmother won’t be here for Christmas,” Maggie said, leading the way into the study.

  “I know. Christmas won’t be the same without her.”

  “We’re going to make the best of it. Rand’s here. He got in early this morning. And Cary will be bringing his office girl.” Maggie looked at her watch. “About now, as a matter of fact. We’re a houseful.”

  Rand. In just a few seconds she would see him. Sawyer’s mind suddenly went blank. All the rehearsed phrases, all the practiced smiles in the mirror, deserted her. She ached. Maggie looked so confident, so self-assured, that Sawyer’s heart started to pound. If it was a fight Maggie wanted, a fight was what she would get. She set her jaw determinedly.

  Out of the corner of her eye Maggie assessed her daughter, calculating the cost of her outfit with a practiced eye. Oscar de la Renta slacks fitted into knee-high Bally boots, both in the same shade of taupe. Autumn haze mink coat, styled with wide shoulders and wide leather belt. A matching hat that swallowed Sawyer’s golden-blond hair. And at her neck a blazing red-orange silk scarf for that right touch of pizzazz. Chic and fashionable were the only words to describe her.

  “Rand, darling!” Sawyer cried breathlessly. She ran to him, throwing her arms around him. She drew back immediately and stared into his eyes, frightened by what she saw. She kissed him lightly on the lips and linked her arm through his. “Come, sit here by me and tell me everything that’s happened since July. I should strangle you for ignoring me these past...” There was a slight pause. “Weeks. Don’t tell me you’re still angry with me.”

  “I could never be angry with you, Sawyer,” Rand said gently.

  “Tell me I look lovely. You always tell me that,” Sawyer teased. “I spent a fortune on this outfit and one for tomorrow. I want to dazzle you. Maggie always said when you’re in love with a man, you have to dazzle him. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

  Maggie forced a laugh. “I do seem to recall saying something like that. I think Mam was the one who said it to me, or maybe it was Aunt Amelia.” She was too gorgeous for words, this daughter of hers. And somewhere between July and now, she’d learned how to fight. Maggie literally backed up a step. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Same as Rand, two fingers of whiskey straight up. The things this man taught me, you wouldn’t believe. Oh, darling, I’m so happy to see you! I have such wonderful plans for us. By the way, I’m taking the boys back to New York the day after Christmas. Please say you’ll join us. I’ve arranged to take a week’s vacation. We can celebrate the New Year together.”

  Rand glanced at Maggie, then turned away at the look in her eyes. Fortunately, he was saved from replying by the arrival of Cary and Eileen Farrell. Their entrance, directly behind Susan’s, was exuberant and filled with Christmas cheer. He could feel Sawyer stiffen at his side as Maggie made the introductions.

  “English nobility!” Eileen gushed. “What a Christmas this has turned out to be.” Maggie watched with interest as Eileen settled herself beside Rand and immediately began conversing. Sawyer on one side, Eileen on the other; Susan and she directly opposite. Opposing generations.

  “Where’s my wife?” Cary asked enthusiastically.

  “Upstairs. She just got in a few minutes before Sawyer. You have exactly thirty minutes to get back down here for drinks before tree trimming.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cary grinned. “Take care of my girl here.”

  “You can count on it,” Maggie said, and settled her gaze on Miss Farrell. She decided the woman was a man-chaser. It was obvious in the way she gushed over Rand, the familiarity with which she conducted the conversation, and the fact that she was all but ignoring her hostess. Eileen’s attention automatically homed in on t
he male species, while her treatment of other women was apparently offhand and damn near condescending. Maggie bristled. Just what Sunbridge needed for the holidays, as if there weren’t enough going on already.

  Cary and Amelia made their entrance. Cary had changed from a business suit to casual light tan slacks, which fit with tailored perfection, and a White Stag ski sweater of softest mohair. But it was Amelia who came under Eileen’s scrutiny, and Amelia knew it, had expected it. She’d deliberately elected to wear an understated little number by Nippon—a bright red silk shot through with silver threads, whose skirt swung easily with every step. The newly fashionable wide shoulders were emphasized in a long-sleeved shirt jacket that flattered her neck and hipline; its short skirt revealed one of Amelia’s best assets, her long, gracefully turned legs.

  Immediately, Eileen rose to her feet to cross the room, offering her hand in greeting. “Mrs. Assante, how nice to see you again.”

  “You remember Eileen, Amelia,” Cary prompted.

  “Of course.” Amelia smiled congenially. “How could I forget? Merry Christmas, Eileen.” She linked her arm once again through Cary’s for much-needed moral support. Her dress and shoes cost more than half of Eileen’s wardrobe, but it couldn’t substitute for thick shoulder-length natural blond hair and a dewy complexion. Damn! She wished Billie were here. It was far from flattering to be an entire generation older than some of the women in the room and two generations older than the rest. “Cary, I’m going to offer your services as bartender. You don’t mind, do you, Maggie? Cary makes the best hot toddies. Order up, everyone,” she said with forced gaiety. “Cary is a specialist.”

  It seemed to Rand that Sawyer was at his heels for the entire afternoon. She was there when he lit the fire and again when he added more logs. It was to him that she handed each ornament to be hung on the tree, all the time chatting vivaciously, sharing memories of past Christmases. Susan and Rand also had memories in common: living in the townhouse on Halston Square, vacations in the country, the petty fights and arguments that all young people have. Amelia and Rand reminisced about wartime England and one particular Christmas when their pet dog had had puppies.

 

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