by Anne Mather
An hour later, Joanna was already feeling the effects of the pre-summer heat in this semi-tropical corner of the United States. Cole’s brother, Ben, had met them at the airport. After a rather awkward greeting, he had loaded Cole’s flight bag and her own suitcases into the back of the solid four-by-four estate car, before taking the wheel for the drive to Tidewater. He had been polite, but hardly friendly, and as Cole had been eager to hear about their father they had immediately excluded her from their easy communication.
Not that she cared, thought Joanna, not altogether honestly. Just because she and Ben had once been friends was no reason to feel slighted now. It was obvious that he would take his brothers—and his father’s—word before her own. And she had no doubt her name had figured in some bitter conversations.
But, for now, she contained her feelings, and fanned herself with a languid hand. Although she was almost sure the vehicle possessed an air-conditioning system, Ben was driving along the coastal highway with all the windows open. In consequence, the moist air was causing her shirt and cotton cut-offs to cling to her damp body, and it was enough to try and find a comfortable position. Nevertheless, she viewed the back of Cole’s head with some resentment. He was on his own ground here, and the heat didn’t bother him a scrap.
Yet, for all her frustration, Joanna couldn’t deny the attraction of the area. Humid it might be, but it was also lush, and colourful, and extremely beautiful. The coastal region was a mass of lakes and waterways, where salt marshes melted into acres of sand dunes, and houses were built high for coolness. At this time of the year, gardens were alight with crimson and pink azaleas, blooming amid jasmine and roses, waxy white camellias and flowering dogwood. Wistaria overhung walls and porches, and wide verandas sported terracotta tubs, and cane furniture. This was the low country, and life moved at a less hectic pace than in the city.
Deciding she wasn’t prepared to be ignored for the whole journey, Joanna unfastened another button on her shirt, and determinedly leaned forward. Resting her arms along the backs of the seats in front, she expelled a sigh that just happened to waft close to Cole’s ear, and forced a smile.
‘So—how are you, Ben?’ she enquired, ignoring Cole’s sudden intake of breath. ‘Got your own place yet?’
‘Um——’ Ben cast a worried look in Cole’s direction, before shaking his head. ‘N-no. Not yet. Too much to do around Tidewater.’
Joanna’s lips flattened. ‘But I thought you wanted a place of your own,’ she persisted, and Cole turned his head to give her a dark look. ‘Well, he did,’ she added, responding to that grim warning. ‘How old are you now, Ben? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?’
‘He’s twenty-four,’ stated her ex-husband shortly. ‘Two years younger than you, as I’m sure you know very well.’
‘You remembered!’ Joanna’s brows arched with teasing intent. ‘That makes you thirty, doesn’t it?’ She tugged the neckline of the shirt away from her moist throat. ‘My, aren’t we getting old?’
Cole didn’t dignify her remark with a reply. He merely swung round in his seat again, leaving Joanna to search wildly for something else to say. But she had no intention of letting him intimidate her, verbally or otherwise, and when her elbow brushed his neck she was more than satisfied by his sharp withdrawal.
‘Cole tells me Joe’s married now,’ she inserted, into a conversation about the current state of land erosion. She had addressed her question to Ben again, and, once more, he looked at his older brother before replying.
’ ‘S right,’ he muttered, clearly not enjoying being pig-in-the-middle, but Joanna couldn’t afford to consider anyone’s feelings but her own.
‘And he still lives at home?’ she prompted. ‘It’s just as well it’s a big house. With three families living in it.’
Now Ben glanced at her. ‘Three families?’
Joanna nodded. ‘Well, as Cole and Joe both have wives——’
‘Cole doesn’t——’ he began impulsively, and then he broke off, his fair skin suffused with colour. ‘That is——’ He swallowed convulsively, his Adam’s apple protruding through his taut skin, and he gave his brother a sidelong look. ‘Didn’t Cole tell you?’
‘Obviously not.’ Cole spoke before Joanna could say anything else to embarrass him. He looked at her now, but his blue eyes were as cold as glaciers. ‘Sammy-Jean left Tidewater some time ago,’ he told her bleakly. ‘She lives in California, as far as I know. Does that satisfy you?’
It didn’t, but Joanna was too surprised to say anything at that moment. No, more than that, she admitted. She was shocked. Astounded. After all, Sammy-Jean had been Ryan Macallister’s choice of a wife for his eldest son. And Joanna knew the other woman had been after Cole ever since they were in high school together. She had made no secret of it. She had been crazy about him. And crazy for him. So what had gone wrong?
With her mind already probing the implications of this announcement, the obvious question sprang to her lips. ‘Are—are you divorced?’
Cole’s exhalation of breath was savage. ‘Yes,’ he said curtly. ‘Now can we leave it? It’s no concern of yours.’
Wasn’t it? Joanna wondered. Would she have come here at all, if she had known Sammy-Jean wasn’t going to be around to protect her? She wasn’t prepared to consider at this moment why she should think she needed any protection. Suffice it to say that Grace’s final words suddenly had a deeper meaning.
‘Does—does Grace know?’
She had to ask, and Cole uttered an aggravated oath. ‘I said we wouldn’t talk about it.’
‘No, but——’
‘God!’ He raked angry fingers against his scalp. ‘What does it matter?’ And then, after allowing himself a minute to calm down, he added, ‘Of course she knows. Why wouldn’t she? It’s not a secret, for God’s sake.’
‘Then why didn’t she tell me?’ demanded Joanna, and then wished she hadn’t, when sardonic eyes were turned in her direction.
‘Who knows?’ taunted Cole, enjoying her discomfort. ‘Perhaps she was afraid you might come rushing back to comfort me.’
Joanna’s hands clenched on the leather back of the wide seats, but, although her initial reaction was to retaliate in kind, this time she thought before she spoke. ‘Perhaps I would at that,’ she murmured, aware that Ben’s head had swung round at her words. He was obviously bewildered by the sudden switch in emphasis, and he showed it. ‘Did you need comforting?’
‘Not by you,’ declared Cole rudely, salvaging what he could from the wreckage. ‘When I need a woman, I can always pay for one.’
‘Just like your daddy,’ retorted Joanna, stung in spite of herself.
Flinging herself back in the seat then, she tried to ignore the sudden pain his words had brought her. It was all very well trading insults with him, but for all her determination her skin was not as thick as his. She scowled sourly out of the window. Bastard, she thought, finding some relief in calling him names, even if he couldn’t hear. Jerk! Creep! How could she have allowed herself to get into this situation?
They passed the exit for Beaumaris, and the sign that read ‘You are now entering Tidewater County’, but Joanna hardly noticed. She was too wrapped up in feelings of bitterness and frustration, and it wasn’t until they turned between the gates of Tidewater Plantation that a sense of panic gripped her stomach. They were here, she gagged. They were really here. Tidewater! Where she had sworn she would never set foot again.
She tried to calm herself. Arriving at the house in a state of wild emotion would get her nowhere. She needed every bit of self-confidence she possessed to face Cole’s family. Not to mention a stiff back and a strong will, she added grimly. No one was going to make a fool of her again.
They approached the house through an avenue of live oaks liberally hung with Spanish moss. The creeper gave the trees an eerie, ghostlike appearance, particularly at night, when dampness rose from the river to cloak the house in a drifting grey mist. At other times, with the moon shining through the sw
aying tendrils, it could be quite romantic, and Joanna found herself remembering the first night she had spent here, when Cole had taken her to see the river, and they had made love on a bed of wild thyme …
She expelled a harsh breath, and hauled herself up in the seat. Now was not the time to start remembering things like that, she chided herself grimly. She had been incredibly foolish in those days. She had actually believed that love could conquer all. How stupid could you get?
Forcing herself to look around, Joanna cast a detached eye over the lush paddocks that lay beyond the white fence that edged the driveway. Glossy-coated mares, and their foals, cropped acres of green, green grass, and the breeze that invaded the windows of the car came straight from the salt marshes. She knew it was possible to see the ocean from the first-floor balcony of the house, and with the river lapping not too far from its doors you were never far from the sight and sound of water.
But, although Tidewater had not yet succumbed to the lure of turning itself into a tourist attraction, as so many other plantations had done, it no longer relied on its cultivation of rice and indigo to keep it solvent. Nowadays, many of the rice fields had been drained, and given over to the raising of cattle, and thoroughbred horses lived in stables that had once quartered its immigrant work-force.
Not that Joanna had taken any part in the running of the estate. As Cole’s wife, she had been entitled to live in the house, and eat at the table, but anything more than that had been denied to her. Ryan Macallister and his sons ran the plantation, and his wife ran the house. And Margaret Macallister had wanted no help from anyone, least of all a girl her son had married against their wishes.
A shiver feathered along Joanna’s spine. Now that she was here, so many memories came flooding back to her. How could she have forgotten the many humiliations she had suffered at Cole’s mother’s hands—the petty slights and ignominies that Cole had known nothing about?
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she remembered. She had come from a normal, loving family, a family that had welcomed Cole into their midst with no real reservations. Even though it had meant Joanna leaving her home, and her country, to go and live in some distant corner of the New World, her parents had accepted it. They had accepted that she loved Cole, and he loved her, and that she knew what she was doing. They had granted her the privilege of believing her old enough to make her own decisions, and although they were going to miss her terribly they had been generous in their support.
Not so Cole’s family. From the beginning, Joanna had been left in no doubt as to their disapproval of the marriage, and, although in those early days Cole had defended her against any overt criticism, when he wasn’t there she was vulnerable. The truth was, she had never encountered that kind of antagonism before, and Margaret Macallister had lost no opportunity to belittle her in front of her husband.
It still hurt. Tamping down the choking sense of indignation that rose in her throat, Joanna forced herself to remember that this time it was going to be different. She hadn’t wanted to come here; they had sent for her. And she was an independent woman now, not a lovesick girl, with no experience of life.
She could just imagine how her mother would react, when she found out where her daughter had gone. That was why she had prevailed on Grace to ring her parents and tell them what she was doing. She had known that, if she had spoken to her mother, Mrs Seton would have done her utmost to get her to change her mind. And, for all her determination, Joanna had not been sufficiently confident of her own ability to withstand such an onslaught.
Now, as they approached the house, Joanna began to wonder if it wouldn’t have been more sensible to get her mother’s opinion. Maybe she was making a terrible mistake.
But the sound of barking dogs and the slowing of the estate car made such misgivings immaterial. A bend in the drive had revealed the house, standing squarely against a backdrop of oak and pine trees. Its white-painted walls and verandas stretched majestically towards a sky splashed with the colours of early evening, and Joanna’s nerves prickled in anticipation. Grills, lattices, louvred shutters; it had all the elegance of a bygone era. And, although the original plantation house had long since fallen into decay, this outward facsimile, built between the two great wars, was every bit as imposing as its antecedent.
Joanna stiffened. Just seeing the house, and the handful of foxhounds that rushed excitedly to meet the car, brought an unwelcome feeling of déjà vu. Only it had been old Moses, one of the grooms, who had met her and Cole on that first occasion. A warning of the opposition they had had to face.
The big Buick came to a halt, and Cole had his door open almost before the wheels had stopped turning. Ordering the hounds away, he turned to open Joanna’s door, just as a tall, well-built woman emerged from the house.
Joanna’s stomach hollowed. Margaret—Maggie—Macallister hadn’t changed. She was still as formidable as ever, her broad-shouldered figure clad in one of the floral prints she favoured, and her long grey hair wound in a plaited coronet around her head.
‘Cole,’ she said, in a voice that was half accusing, half relieved, ‘thank God you’re home!’
‘Why?’ Leaving Joanna’s door ajar, Cole sprang up the flight of steps to where his mother was waiting on the veranda. ‘Nothing’s happened, has it? Pa’s not——’
‘No, no. He’s the same.’ Gripping her eldest son by the shoulders, Maggie Macallister looked at him with tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I was just—so worried. When you didn’t come back yesterday——?’
She didn’t finish the sentence, but Joanna, climbing reluctantly out of the car, thought its meaning was unmistakable. Cole’s mother was reminding him of his responsibilities, and using the opportunity to show her exactly what to expect.
‘I’m sorry.’ Cole allowed his mother to pull him into an eager embrace, and Joanna, hauling out a heavy suitcase and her flight bag, couldn’t help but glimpse the look of triumph Maggie Macallister cast in her direction. You might have seduced him away from his family once, that look seemed to say, but, as you can see, it won’t happen again.
Won’t it? thought Joanna grimly, tugging at the second suitcase. We’ll see, you old harridan! We’ll see who has the last laugh!
‘Here—I’ll do that.’
Joanna was so intent on giving back stare for stare that she had been unaware of Ben coming round the vehicle to help her.
‘Let me,’ he insisted, lifting the second case effortlessly on to the crushed-shell forecourt, and Joanna gave him a winning smile that was all the warmer because of its audience.
‘Thanks,’ she said, deliberately tipping her head to one side, and looking him over. ‘I’d forgotten you were so strong.’ She touched his biceps with teasing fingers. ‘Solid muscle!’
‘And no brains,’ said Cole abruptly, pulling himself out of his mother’s arms, and coming back down the steps to where Ben was red-facedly trying to handle all the luggage. He gave Joanna a chilling look, and took one of the cases from Ben. ‘Come on. I’ll show you your room.’
But not without meeting Ma, brooded Joanna unwillingly, following him up the steps. No one was allowed to do anything around here without Ma’s permission. And right now Maggie Macallister was watching their exchange with grim-eyed disapproval.
Joanna started to pluck her shirt away from her body as she followed Cole up to where his mother was waiting, but then she changed her mind. What did she care if Maggie Macallister thought she was brazen, because the damp material was clinging to her taut breasts? They were nice breasts—and Ben had evidently thought so, too—judging by the way his eyes had nearly popped out of his head.
Even so, it took an enormous amount of courage to face the woman who had helped to destroy her marriage. For all her resolution, it wasn’t easy to forget the last time she had stood on this veranda. Or dismiss the pain and anguish that she would always associate with her departure.
Nevertheless, there was a difference. As Joanna mounted the last stair and
came up beside Cole, she realised what it was. Whereas before she had been eager—fool that she was—to make a good impression, now she didn’t have to. It didn’t matter to her what Cole’s mother thought, and although she didn’t actually voice the words she saw the dawning comprehension in Maggie Macallister’s eyes.
There was an awkward moment, while the two women appeared to size one another up. And then, when it became apparent that her erstwhile daughter-in-law was not going to be the first to speak, Cole’s mother cracked a frosty smile.
‘Joanna,’ she said, regarding the younger woman’s appearance with undisguised disdain. ‘You look hot.’
‘Oh, I am.’ Joanna expelled her breath in an upward draught. ‘I can’t wait to strip off these tight trousers.’
Maggie’s mouth compressed. ‘I’m sure,’ she murmured, exchanging a speaking look with Cole. ‘If you wait a moment, I’ll get Sally to show you to your room.’
‘Oh, but …’ Joanna pretended a confusion she certainly wasn’t feeling. ‘Cole said he’d show me where I’m to sleep.’ Her look was all wide-eyed innocence. ‘Isn’t that right, honey?’
It was hard to decide who was the most incensed by her remark, but Cole recovered first. ‘That’s right,’ he said tersely, picking up her cases again, and making for the open doorway. ‘We don’t want there to be any mistake, do we?’
‘Hell, no.’ Before Maggie could make any endorsing statement, Joanna pulled a rueful face. ‘I might find myself sharing a bathroom with you, sugar.’