Texas Heat

by Fern Michaels

  “Who are we to say Maggie must do this and Maggie mustn’t do that? Maggie and Sawyer have to work things out themselves. From what Amelia has told me, Christmas was a total disaster. Now I’m really glad we were snowbound.”

  “They’re calling your flight, darling. Call me when you land and again after you see Sawyer. If you need me, call, any time of the day or night. Promise now.”

  “I promise.” Billie kissed him soundly. “Say a little prayer on the way home that Sawyer is all right.”

  “I will, darling. Have a safe trip.”

  Billie was uneasy during the plane trip. The feeling stayed with her while she claimed her luggage and called Thad. It was still with her on the cab ride to Adam’s loft. When there was no answer to her repeated ringing, she left her suitcase beside the door and hailed a cab for the hospital.

  Billie’s stomach churned as she made her way down the corridor to Sawyer’s room.

  Outside the door, she stood quietly for a moment trying to compose herself. Sawyer was going to be upset that she’d made the trip, but she could talk her way out of that easily enough. What was going to be hard to explain was Adam’s frantic phone call to her. And if Sawyer should ask, she would’ have to admit that she’d called Maggie. Of course, she wouldn’t have to tell her how Maggie had reacted. Billie suspected there was more to the situation than met the eye. With a smile on her face, she pushed open the door to Sawyer’s room.

  “Grand, what are you doing here? ... Adam called you, didn’t he? I can see it in his face. He worries too much. We’re waiting for the doctor to come in and discharge me; he’s supposed to have all the reports from my tests. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, and it finally caught up with me. I’m run-down, anemic probably. They’ll give me megavitamins and send me home. You shouldn’t have made the trip.”

  “I wanted to. It’s nice to see you again, Adam. You haven’t changed at all.”

  “Still as good-looking as ever, right?”

  “I said you haven’t changed.” Billie forced a laugh. Something was wrong here; she could feel it.

  “Perhaps I should go on to the loft. I did go there first and left my bag. You’ll want privacy with the doctor.”

  “That’s silly, Grand. Wait. You can certainly hear what the doctor has to say. We’ll all go back to the loft together.”

  “Makes sense to me. I always said this chick had a head on her shoulders,” Adam quipped.

  “Beautiful head.” Sawyer grinned. “Oh, here’s the doctor.” Sawyer made the necessary introductions. “Now tell me, Dr. Finley, how many vitamins do I have to take a day? I’m anemic, aren’t I? Do I need B-twelve shots? ... You look so serious. Don’t tell me I have an inner ear problem; I used to get that when I was little.”

  Billie hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until it escaped in a tortured sigh. Adam was squeezing and releasing his fists. He could feel it, too.

  There was little in Susan’s imagination that could compare with the dreariness of early January in Texas. All the life seemed to drain out of the land, leaving a poor imitation painted in indistinguishable shades of gray upon gray. And she fit perfectly into the landscape, gray and lifeless like an aging slug whose middle is too swollen for movement. She longed for a warm climate, blue skies, sunshine.

  For as long as she could remember, she’d never been this lonely. First, it had been Mam and Pap and the rest of the family here at Sunbridge, and then Amelia and Rand, and finally Jerome. She’d never lived on her own or had the responsibility of making a life for herself. Even now she was under the protective umbrella of Sunbridge and the family. But it didn’t relieve the loneliness.

  Every day she wondered where Jerome was and what he was doing. She’d sent letters to the flat and to their agent, Theodore Lewis. All of them had been returned unopened. It was as though Jerome had dropped off the face of the earth. When she’d called Theodore, he’d been unwilling to give any information, although he’d expressed confidence that Jerome would soon come to his senses. “He’ll turn up,” Theodore had said. “Perhaps he just needs a little time to get accustomed to being a father.” Eight months wasn’t enough time?

  Yes, sooner or later he’d turn up. Of that Susan was sure. He’d appear suddenly, like an apparition, after the baby was born and she was able to go back to work. He’d be filled with plans and schemes and probably have a tour schedule in his pocket.

  She worked at her fingers, massaging them gently. How puffy they were. She’d tried just the other day to play the piano, but the finely tuned instrument hadn’t responded. In the end she’d slammed down the lid. Maybe she’d never play again. Maybe she’d never do a lot of things again. Right now her top priority was staying well so she could play out her own private miracle of giving birth.

  Susan patted her belly, pleased with the little ripples that made her fingers jump. She wondered if her child would be a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter. She would love it. And the child would love her back, unconditionally.

  A walk on the portico would feel good now. She’d seen the workmen clear the snow away earlier; there would be no danger of her slipping and falling. Before she could change her mind and snuggle down into the comfortable chair, Susan slipped her arms into a down coat and added a woolen hat to her golden head.

  “Suse, where are you going?” Maggie asked in alarm as she watched her sister maneuver awkwardly down the stairs.

  “I need some fresh air. I thought I’d walk up and down the portico.”

  “Wait, I’ll go with you. I don’t want you falling. They always manage to leave little patches of ice.”

  “I’m dressed, so I’ll wait for you outside.” Already she could feel the perspiration beading her forehead.

  Maggie joined her sister and they began to stroll, arm in arm. “I wonder what the temperature is today,” Susan said. “Remember how we used to cup our hands to our mouths and blow out clouds of what we called venom?”

  “I remember. I think I remember everything about our childhood. I went for analysis and the things I remembered shocked the psychologist so much, he suspended my visits till he could get a handle on it. I never went back. I learned that you have to help yourself first, and if you need someone for the rocky spots, then you consult a professional. How are you doing with your rocky spots?”

  “I was thinking upstairs that I’m going to have to make a life for myself very soon. I’m going to have to find an apartment and ajob. I screwed up, Maggie. Before I came here I didn’t take my share from our bank accounts. There’s nothing left except the trust fund Mam set up for me here.”

  “For God’s sake, Suse, is that what’s been making you look so glum? I have enough for both of us. That should be the least of your worries. You can stay here forever if you want. I love having you here. I can’t wait for you to have the baby. Please, I want you to stay. I’ll switch over some monies tomorrow. I can even do it today.”

  “Maggie, I can’t.... It isn’t right ...”

  “Of course it is. Don’t even think about paying me back. I’m glad to help. Whatever’s mine is yours. This is your home. Pap said I should fill it with sunshine. I don’t want you to even think of leaving. Listen to me. Jerome might have cleaned out the bank accounts, but you can stop any further monies from Coleman Enterprises being sent to England. I’ll do that for you. It will be funneled here to your bank account once we open it. It’s not the end of the world. Your baby is going to be well provided for. That’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it?”

  Susan nodded miserably. “I really thought she or he would be born a pauper dependent on your generosity.”

  “My God, Suse, why didn’t you say something? We should have done some serious talking a while ago. I didn’t want to intrude, because you seemed so out of it. Many nights I got as far as your door and then turned around and went back to my room because I thought you wouldn’t want to be bothered.”

  “I thought you were too busy with Rand and the kids
and everything. I didn’t want to be an added burden.” Susan dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. “I feel so alone.”

  “Well, you’re not alone, so stop thinking like that. We both fouled up. We Colemans are good at that. For some reason we never get around to talking till it’s too late. If we hadn’t met like this this afternoon, you probably would’ve driven off one day and left me standing here wondering what I did to make you leave. We’re going inside right now and talk. I have a lot I want to get off my chest, just like you do.”

  “What about Rand?”

  “What about him? You’re important to me, Suse. Rand will just have to manage to entertain himself while we do what we do best. Lord, how we used to jabber for hours on end. We’re going to have a pot of tea and some cake, just you and me.” Maggie squirmed under Susan’s grateful gaze. How could she have been so insensitive to her sister? That was all going to change now.

  Much later, the sisters walked hand in hand to dinner down the long stairway. Rand stood at the bottom. He was so handsome, Susan thought, but she was now seeing something she’d never seen in him before. A new awareness, a certain vitality that seemed to form a nimbus around him. It was a silly thought and she smiled. Rand didn’t notice; he had eyes only for Maggie. She exerted a little pressure to her sister’s hand, her seal of approval. Let them be happy if this is what they both want. Maggie responded With a tight squeeze of her own. It would be all right, she realized. Maggie had a grip on things.

  Rand noticed the imperceptible change in Susan and smiled warmly. “I’m starved,” he said, “but may I say the wait was worth it? You both look lovely.”

  “We know.” Maggie grinned. “May we say you look quite dashing?”

  “You may.”

  It was a wonderful dinner. Riley and Cole were drawn into the conversation when the talk switched to ice hockey. Maggie was stunned by her son’s knowledge of the dangerous sport. She hadn’t known he’d played goalie on his old school team.

  When the boys returned to their rooms to study, the trio had coffee in front of the fire. Rand regaled Maggie with tales of Susan’s young life in England. It was one of the most enjoyable evenings of Maggie’s life.

  It was after ten when Susan excused herself, saying her eyes would no longer stay open. At almost the same moment, the telephone rang. As Maggie went to answer it, Amelia and Cary opened the front door, a blast of cold air swirling about them. Susan wished everyone a good night and was halfway up the stairs before she heard Maggie’s voice change.

  Rand watched in alarm as the color drained from Maggie’s face. Her grip on the telephone receiver was so tight, her knuckles looked iridescent.

  “Thanks for calling me, Mam. I’ll ...What I’ll do is . . . I’ll.... Yes, of course.... This is unreal.... I’ll . . . call you tomorrow. No, no messages.”

  Amelia’s voice was just short of shrill. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Thad? For God’s sake, Maggie, what is it?”

  Susan echoed Amelia’s words. “Are you sure Mam is all right? Maggieeeeee!”

  Maggie turned till she was facing the small group. She was trembling so badly, Rand jumped up and put his arms around her shoulders. She leaned gratefully into his hard body. “I ... don’t know quite how ... how to say this except ... except ... Sawyer has an inoperable brain tumor.” The silence around her brought tears to Maggie’s eyes. “Sawyer is still in the hospital. They’re calling in another team of neurosurgeons.” Suddenly overwhelmed by guilt, she drew away from Rand and walked to the liquor cabinet. She gripped the gin bottle tightly. “I was going to go, you know, when Mam said Sawyer was in the hospital, but when ... but when she left here, she said she never... never wanted to see me again.”

  The sight of Susan gripping her stomach brought Maggie to her senses. “We’re ... we’re all going to handle this. Right now, I don’t know how, but we will. Susan, go to bed. You need the rest. We’re all in shock right now, so why don’t we wait till tomorrow to . . . to talk about it. ”

  “You’re right, of course,” Amelia said as she reached for Cary’s hand. “It’s my opinion that all doctors are quacks. They probably made a misdiagnosis and we’re all ... Billie wouldn’t have called unless it was...Good night, everybody,” she said in a small voice.

  Maggie sat down on the love seat across from Rand. They watched each other for a long time.

  “I think I know what you’re thinking,” Maggie said gently.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Rand said just as gently.

  “It’s too late.

  “We have to try. My God, Maggie, what kind of people would we be if we didn’t try?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want to. Sawyer is the one who won’t let us exorcise our guilt. That’s what it is. Pity is an awful thing. I could never go to Sawyer out of pity. She’d see through it in a minute.”

  “She’s alone,” Rand said in a choked voice. “She has to go through this alone.”

  “She’s not alone. Mam will always be there for her. Sawyer’s staying with an old friend of hers. Adam has loved her since they were little kids. Rand, I feel so helpless. I can’t even comfort you and you can’t comfort me.”

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

  “Going to change things. I understand that. I have to think, Rand. I’m going upstairs. The boys have to be told, but I think that can wait till tomorrow.”

  “Maggie!”

  “Yes?”

  “Did your mother say ... did she say how long Sawyer has?”

  “A year, possibly. They’re not certain ... less. Doctors tend to shy away from.... What they do is they won’t commit.... A year. A goddamn lousy year.”

  The bolt shot home on Maggie’s door. Long fingers raked through her hair. She felt itchy all over. The tears had stopped. Had she cried? She couldn’t remember. She rummaged in the drawer for a cigarette. She lit it, puffed on it, crushed it out, only to light another. She paced the room with the cigarette clamped between her teeth.

  When she was younger, when Pap was still alive, she’d prayed to God and the devil that Sawyer would die. The memory was so vivid, she raced for the bathroom and upchucked her dinner. Her hand trembled so badly, she could barely brush her teeth. “God, I didn’t mean it!” She knew it for the lie it was.

  Maggie dropped to her knees, her head resting on the edge of the tub. “I need your help. Please, show me what to do,” she prayed.

  A long time later, Maggie dragged herself from the bathroom. She dialed New York information for Adam’s number, then called him without a thought as to the time. Neither Adam nor Mam would be sleeping. Would any of them ever sleep again?

  “Main. Help me.”

  “Maggie, I wish I could. This is something you’ll have to handle by yourself. I think I’m still in shock. Adam is.” There was a little pause. “Adam is praying. I did that, too. I imagine you did the same.” .

  “I did, but I tend to think He ignores me. Just like that, no warning. I can’t accept that.”

  “It wasn’t quite like that. Those migraine headaches Sawyer’s had for the past few years, that was the onset.” She recounted other maladies that Adam had repeated to her. “We mustn’t come to any fast conclusions, Maggie. The doctors don’t believe the tumor is malignant, but it is in a vital area which they usually consider inoperable. I told you, there’s another team of neurosurgeons coming to see Sawyer. We’ll have a better picture then. Go to bed, Maggie, and try to rest.”

  “Mam, how did you get through Riley’s death?”

  “One day at a time. Listen to me. Sawyer isn’t dead. She’s very much alive. Remember that. She still has time.”

  It was three o’clock in the morning when Maggie descended the attic stairs, a cardboard box in her hands. Her old diaries. Journals, Mam always called them. Little leather-bound books that covered five years of one’s life. From her closet she removed the corrugated box she’d brought with her from New York. These were one-year journals, filled out in more d
etail. Only here in these pages had she been honest.

  Maggie Coleman Tanner’s life. In two cardboard boxes. It was going to take a lot of guts to read these. The first diary started on her eighth birthday. She smiled when she looked at the childish scrawl. She remembered sending Sawyer a diary on her tenth birthday—a handsome leather-bound journal with her initials embossed in gold.

  Maggie sorted through the diaries, placing them in chronological order. She stared at them for a long time.

  A person’s life shouldn’t look so neat. She shook her head and went downstairs to perk a pot of coffee. She carried the percolator and afresh pack of cigarettes upstairs. The last thing she did was put a note on her door telling everyone she was sleeping and not to waken her. Then she slid the bolt home and settled herself down to read.

  Maggie’s life exploded before her very eyes, one page at a time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When Maggie heard the sound of the garage door closing, she steeled herself. Telling Riley and Cole about Sawyer was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. Riley, she knew, would remain calm on the surface. But she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Cole’s reaction would be. Should she wait till they got upstairs and talk to them in their rooms, or should she call them into the study?

  “I’ll wait till they settle in,” she decided aloud, unconsciously wringing her hands.

  Rand watched her as she paced the study. He knew she was exhausted; she’d told him how she’d spent her night and morning. Her eyes looked hollow and bruised, her face pale and drawn. But there was beauty in her, and an inner strength that would allow her to stand tall and accept last night’s phone call. He ached for her, wanted to comfort her in some way, but he hurt so bad himself, he couldn’t make the effort.

  “If it were me, I think I’d tell them in private,” he said quietly. He watched her a short while later as she climbed the steps to the second floor.