Texas Heat

by Fern Michaels

  It seemed to Maggie that she was the only one without memories to share.

  Cole and Riley joined in for the tree trimming, and together with Sawyer they made a happy threesome, joking and laughing and singing Christmas carols to records. Maggie couldn’t remember ever seeing her son quite so happy. It was Sawyer who made the difference. Sawyer could give Cole something she couldn’t. Was it that way with Rand, too?

  They all shared a late dinner, carrying their plates into the living room to eat near the tree. Susan sat at the grand piano, striking familiar chords from Handel’s “Messiah.” They all chanted the “Hallelujah” chorus—Eileen, surprisingly, taking the high octave soprano. Cary divided his attention between Eileen and his wife, seemingly oblivious to the look in Amelia’s eyes or the grim line of her mouth.

  “Perhaps you’d like to go up and lie down for an hour or so, Mrs. Assante. You look tired,” Eileen was heard to say.

  “Do I?” Amelia challenged, her eyes burning coals of defiance. Eileen smiled and turned away quickly.

  Maggie, witnessing this exchange, deftly interrupted when she saw Amelia’s arm reach out to grasp the younger woman’s shoulder. “We should all be thinking about getting into town for the midnight service, don’t you think, Amelia? There’s quite a few of us, so we’ll have to arrange the cars. Why don’t you and Cary take Riley and Susan in your car? Cole and I can take Rand and Sawyer, Eileen, and Martha in the station wagon.”

  She saw the relief in Amelia’s eyes and realized her aunt was near the breaking point. However, Eileen was right: she did look tired; exhausted, as a matter of fact. Her sleek brunette hair had flopped forward onto her brow. She was pale, and the bright red of her silk dress made her skin look sallow. And Maggie knew Amelia’s feet had to be killing her in those four-inch heels.

  “The station wagon is behind all the others, Maggie,” Sawyer said sweetly. “Why don’t Rand and I take the boys, and you can use your own car to take Eileen and Martha.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” Amelia said hurriedly. “I’ll just run upstairs for my coat. Cary, why don’t you come with me? I want you to wear something warmer.” She could hear the edge of panic in her voice. If Maggie hadn’t interrupted, she would have clawed Eileen’s face to shreds. She had to get control of herself. She’d had too much to drink and too little to eat. Fear and jealousy had knotted her innards. Get control, she repeated over and over.

  All the way to the church Maggie was silent. With one deft stroke Sawyer had succeeded in keeping Rand and both boys to herself while she, Maggie, rode to church with a housekeeper and a stranger.

  Maggie’s mood was much uplifted by the time she returned to Sunbridge. The church service had been lovely, the choir heavenly. Meeting and greeting friends and acquaintances; Rand maneuvering to sit beside her in church. The candlelight, the music, the whisper of softly falling snow outside the stained glass windows, peace on earth and goodwill.

  She shed tears for those who were not there this Christmas and held Riley’s hand tight, knowing his thoughts were on the father he’d never known and his beautiful mother, Otami.

  Maggie tried not to think of Sawyer, who was sitting on the far side of Rand, sharing a hymn book and helpfully turning the pages. When all their voices were uplifted in song, Maggie caught a glimpse of Sawyer’s lovely face, radiant with the moment and with being so near to Rand. Her daughter, her own child. They’d been so far apart for so many years, but now there was Cole and Rand and Riley. How could two women share their men?

  Maggie’s eyes closed, a crystal tear shining on her cheek. What kind of woman was she to do this to Sawyer, to even entertain the thought of being in love with Rand? She’d had her chance at happiness when she’d married Cranston; shouldn’t Sawyer have her chance? And Rand, what this must be doing to him.... Or was she allowing herself to be taken in again? Perhaps Rand had been a bachelor for so long that the idea of marriage was frightening to him. Perhaps he really loved Sawyer but was unable to commit himself. What if he was simply using her—Maggie—to drive a wedge between himself and Sawyer?

  Maggie looked up at Rand, saw his finely chiseled profile, the gentle sweep of his brow, the soft blond hair that fell over his forehead. And then he turned, his chocolate-brown eyes meeting hers, and they were filled with a longing that told her of his love. For an instant she allowed herself to be filled with the meaning of his gaze, feeling her own emotions brim. No, Rand would never use her; he’d never use anyone to suit his own purposes. Not this man who had taken her in his arms and made love to her. The man who had whispered, “Maggie, my Maggie,” and had touched her soul with his own. She could feel Rand still looking at her when she herself had turned away.

  The Christmas mood prevailed during the drive back to Sunbridge. This time Riley and Cole had squeezed into the car with Maggie, Eileen, and Martha. Maggie knew it was a kind of conspiracy to leave Rand and Sawyer alone, but she didn’t care. She trusted Rand, even if it meant she might be hurt. Her voice carried with the others as they sang all the way home.

  “We draw lots to see who hands out the gifts,” Maggie said gaily when they were once again around the Christmas tree at Sunbridge, warming themselves with hot chocolate and rum toddies. “Whoever gets the blank paper plays Santa.”

  Cary won the honor and beamed with pride. Amelia, Santa’s helper, glowed beneath her husband’s attention as he teased that she shouldn’t look only for the presents labeled with her own name.

  Eileen’s eyes burned as she watched gift after gift happily bestowed. She was pleased but stunned that there were so many gifts for her. The Coleman family wasn’t only rich; it was generous.

  By the time the last present had been opened and admired by all, it was almost dawn. Eileen felt as if she were in the bargain basement of a huge department store. Stereos for the boys; someone had received a hand-tooled saddle—the Amerasian boy, she thought. Adidas sneakers replete with little calculators that measured distance, speed, calories burned. Jewelry galore. Cary had given his wife an expensive serpentine gold chain from which dangled an eye-bruising diamond. Perfume, designer clothes, silk scarves, and Gucci bags. Golf clubs and riding crops; Maggie’s son got his own full-scale video game. Even Susan’s unborn child received toys and cute little shirts and baby booties that made the momma-to-be squeal in delight.

  “It always seems like such a letdown when all the presents are opened.” Maggie smiled wearily. “Such wonderful presents.”

  “And now there’s this mess to clean up.” Riley yawned.

  Eileen laughed. “All that fancy gift wrap and ribbon cost more than all my Christmases put together. I’ll clean it up; it’s the least I can do to thank you all for your lovely gifts. I never expected anything; being here was more than enough.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Amelia said generously. “The vase you gave Cary and me is exquisite.”

  Eileen dropped to her knees and began to roll the papers together. Rand joined her. “Go on to bed, everyone. Eileen and I will have this mess cleaned in a minute.”

  “Rand!” Sawyer exclaimed. “Eileen is our guest; we can’t have her doing chores. I’ll do it. You go along to bed, Eileen,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, actually grabbing Eileen’s arm and lifting her to her feet.

  “Yes, come along,” Amelia said sweetly. “Leave it to the family. You, too, Maggie, you’ve had an exhausting day.”

  Maggie found herself with the rest of the clan as they climbed the stairs to their respective rooms. She knew what Amelia was doing, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it ... or wanted to do.

  When they were alone in the living room, with only the light from the Christmas tree twinkling against the darkness, Sawyer turned to Rand and said softly, “I thought I’d never get you to myself. I’ve been waiting all day for this moment.”

  Rand wished her tone weren’t so intimate, so seductive. He knew where this conversation was going to lead. On the way home from church Sawyer had tried to fill
him with memories of things they’d done together, of what they’d been to each other. In the car he’d been able to head her off by inducing her to sing Christmas carols and talk about Riley and Cole. Now he was trapped ... and perhaps it was just as well.

  “Thank you for the wonderful gift,” she was saying. “I’m so pleased you remembered my passion for bracelets, but really, you were too extravagant. Do you know I wear the one you gave me for my birthday all the time? I love the earrings you gave Maggie. Do you think she’ll wear four-leaf clovers? Are they significant somehow?”

  Rand was tired; it had been a long and difficult day. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and he felt like a criminal, guilty and condemned. But where was the crime in loving Maggie? “Sawyer, you must listen to what I have to say. We’re going to talk, and this time you’re going to listen and hear. I don’t want to seem cruel, but somewhere you’ve gotten the idea that we can just pick up where we left off before the July holiday. It’s not that way and I’m sorry.”

  Sawyer rocked back on her heels, a tangle of ribbon threaded between her still fingers. She tried to focus on his face, saw the way the tree lights reflected in his hair.

  “I care for you, Sawyer, very much, but what I feel isn’t love, at least not the kind of love your looking for. I don’t love you enough. I regret that.”

  “Stop!” Sawyer clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to listen!”

  He grasped her hands, pulling them away from her ears, holding them tightly against his chest. “You’ve got to listen! You’re becoming obsessed with the idea that I’ll come around and find that I’ve loved you all along and that I’ll always love you. Don’t do this to yourself, Sawyer, and for God’s sake, don’t do it to the rest of us!”

  She seemed frozen in time, hearing but not believing, incapable of believing. “You loved me once ...” she began.

  “Yes, and I still love you, but not the way you want.” He gentled his voice, loving her and pitying her at the same time. She had to set him free, him and Maggie.

  “Last time you said we were at opposite ends of life. That you didn’t want a family. You wanted to settle down to a simpler life. All right, then, no children, no work, just each other. I want only you, Rand. Nothing else means anything, only you.”

  Rand was shaking his head, lost in the futility of it all. “No, Sawyer. What I told you then was the truth; that’s how I feel about where I am in my life. But a simpler truth is that I can’t love you the way you need to be loved. The way you deserve to be loved. Can you understand ? It’s not enough for you and it’s not enough for me.”

  She raised her eyes, holding him with her gaze. It was as if she were delving into his head, demanding answers for questions she couldn’t ask. “It’s not supposed to be this way. I was so sure, so certain—” Her voice broke; a shuddering sob, silent and terrifying, shook her.

  Rand wanted to reach out for her, to hold her against him, to give comfort where none could be found. “Don’t do this, Sawyer; please don’t do this.”

  “You said that before. Only you said not to do it to the rest of you. Who’s that, Rand? Who else am I hurting besides myself?”

  “I only meant that something like this could break the family in two. I know you don’t want that.”

  “You know what I want. I guess I made a fool of myself again. I thought time and distance would’ve changed your mind. I know now I was wrong. But I need you to tell me something first.” Sawyer choked back a sob. “I need to hear you say there’s nothing between you and Maggie. Tell me you aren’t having an affair with my mother.” When there was no answer to her entreaty, her eyes filled with tears. “I think I could take anything but that. I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

  “Sawyer, it’s not a betrayal. Why won’t you accept that what we had wasn’t strong enough?”

  There was a wild thing beating in Sawyer’s breast. Words, all the wrong words. Adam had known. Even she had known. Hearing it again was like a death sentence, one she could not accept. “Apparently it wasn’t, since you couldn’t wait to jump into my mother’s bed,” she cried hoarsely. “My God! Doesn’t she have any decency?”

  “Sawyer, it wasn’t like that. What can I say to make you understand?”

  “Why don’t you ask what will make me forgive you, because I understand all right, damn right I understand! I know what she is even if you don’t. I’m sorry for you, Rand, terribly sorry.” She fought her way to her feet, hampered by the empty boxes and cartons, the snarls of ribbons and acres of shredded paper. Only in the privacy of her room did she let the tears flow; quiet, hateful tears.

  Rand sat with his head in his hands for a very long time. When the daylight, bright from the reflection of the snow, penetrated the draperies, he hefted himself to his feet and began to clear away the litter. He made four trips to the back service porch, where he piled the hefty sacks of trash neatly one on top of the other. He was hurting and he wanted to be comforted.

  He wanted Maggie.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Christmas Day was the horror Rand dreaded. He thanked God untold times for the boys and for Eileen, who kept things going. Neighbors visited with traditional good cheer, and Riley and Cole’s friends livened things up with a spontaneous party, dancing to records and making a pleasant din amid the silence. Sawyer joined the young people, her laughter strained and her face a bit too pink from Cary’s hot toddies. Maggie, ever watchful, knew what must have happened. Amelia, knowing nothing but her jealousy of Eileen Farrell, stuck close to her husband. Susan lay down for a long afternoon nap and finally asked to have her dinner sent to her room. Only Cary, oblivious to everything except the holiday fun and the exuberance of the youngsters, enjoyed himself.

  It was four o’clock in the morning the day after Christmas when Cole found Sawyer downstairs in the living room, her head buried in her arms as she lay facedown on one of the sofas. On the floor within reach was an empty decanter of Scotch and a toppled glass.

  Cole knew an overwhelming sense of helplessness. What could he do to help her? All day she’d been too bright, like a bulb just before it burns out. She hadn’t told him what was wrong, but it hadn’t been hard to guess, seeing the distance she’d suddenly put between herself and Rand when she’d been falling all over him on Christmas Eve.

  Right now he had to get her upstairs and into the shower. Somehow she had to be sober and fit to travel by seven in the morning. But he couldn’t do it alone.

  Riley woke at Cole’s touch and sat up groggily. His first thought was something had happened to his grandfather. “Say again?”

  “I said I need your help. Sawyer’s downstairs and she’s dead drunk. If we don’t do something, neither one of us will be going to New York. Hustle your ass, Riley, and get downstairs. Do you know how to make coffee?”

  “No, do you?”

  “No, but she needs it to sober up.”

  “Hey, Cole, you know what you learned in school. Nothing sobers you up, not coffee or food or anything, only time!”

  “That’s exactly what we don’t have. We’ve got to be leaving here in three hours! Now hustle!” he hissed. “We don’t have to get her sober enough to drive, only to get her on her feet and moving.”

  Riley grabbed his terry robe and followed Cole down the stairs.

  “Let’s get her into the kitchen. You take one arm and I’ll take the other. Between us we’ll figure out how to work the percolator. She’s so drunk it won’t matter how it tastes.”

  “It might make her sick. That’s what happened to you.”

  “Yeah, at least she’ll puke up the booze in her stomach before it hits her bloodstream. I learned that in school, too. Meanwhile, you got any better ideas?” Cole snapped as he gently took Sawyer under the arm in a firm grip.

  Sawyer was roused enough by the manhandling to mutter, “Let me alone. Let me sleep.” Determinedly, they dragged her into the kitchen.

  “It might help if you’d tell me w
hat’s going on,” Riley said as he tried to hold Sawyer erect on the chair. “I’ve got a right to know.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do,” Cole said grudgingly as he filled the electric percolator and dumped coffee into the strainer basket. “I think Rand’s got something going with my mother. I’m pretty sure of it. The bottom line is he dumped Sawyer.”

  “That was in July. Why’d she get drunk now?”

  “I think she thought they could patch it up. I just found her like this a little while ago. And if we both want to go to New York, we better fix her up quick.”

  For the next two hours both boys badgered, cajoled, and walked Sawyer around the kitchen. When her insides ripped loose, Cole held her head over the sink and Riley steadied her.

  “I’m going to kill both of you for this,” Sawyer sputtered as Cole doused her entire head in lukewarm water.

  “You told me if I made an ass out of myself, I damn well better be ready to take the consequences. This is your consequence. We’re gonna get you upstairs and you can change your clothes. You’ve got exactly forty-five minutes to get ready and be downstairs. You got that?”

  “Miserable, rotten cretins. I’ll lose you in New York. I’ll starve you!”

  “He’s not worth it!” Cole cried vehemently.

  “Just shut the hell up. I’m all right now. I can walk by myself. It wasn’t necessary to wet my head.”

  “Wear a hat,” Riley suggested.

  “Riley, get your gear and stow it by the. front door,” Cole ordered. “The car will be out front by seven. I’m packed. Once we get her in her room, I’m going back to clean up the kitchen. Watch her.”

  “Who put you in charge?” Sawyer demanded. “You sound like a goddamn drill sergeant.”

  “When the first in command falters, the second in command takes over. So move it! And be quiet.”

  Riley opened Sawyer’s door and shoved her inside. “I have to get my bags and get dressed. I’ll be right back. Can you manage?”