by Diana Palmer
She smoothed the thick hair on his chest with an idle hand while she studied him. "Were there a lot of women?"
"Yes," he said, without guilt or embarrassment. "Before I married, and after I was widowed. It never meant more than satisfying an ache. Except with my wife." He looked down at her. "And with you. I won't cheat on you, if you're worried about it. I don't take vows lightly."
"I know." She gnawed her lower lip.
"What's wrong?"
Her shoulders lifted and fell nervously. "What happened that last time... It was frightening."
"Something that profound should be," he said quietly. "Making love is an act of creation," he added, his eyes soft and possessive on her body. "A joining of bodies and souls in utter reverence. I've made light of it all these years, but when I do it with you, I feel as if I've touched heaven."
She moved involuntarily. "I didn't think about a baby."
He kissed her eyes, his tongue softly stroking her thick lashes. "I did."
She smiled. "Will you mind?"
He chuckled. "No." He pressed a hard kiss on her lips. "If you're pregnant, you can't leave me." "I won't, anyway."
He was satisfied about that, and about her devotion to him. He spared a faint thought of sympathy for Wardell, who would never have Katy's love or her children. He could afford to be generous. All the same, he was glad Chicago was so far away. He drew Katy close and put out his cigarette.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben waited impatiently at Grand Central Station for his train to Texas. It had been six months since he'd finished his book, and it was already on the book stands. He'd been living in New York while he read and corrected galleys, so excited about the idea of actually having a book in print that he didn't even mind the sweeping revisions his editor had suggested. It was a dream come true. Even if he wasn't a literary lion yet, he was at least a published author. He had time on his side. If it took years to build a reputation, he had them.
With his advance against royalties in his pocket, he was finally secure enough to go home and face his family. He'd written over the long months, and Cole had finally taken pity on him after Christmas. Marion Whitehall had surprised everyone by rallying against the doctor's prognosis. She grew stronger by the day. Katy andTurk had married, a bit of news that Ben still had trouble digesting. They were certainly an odd match. But, then, love was strange. What puzzled him was the postscript saying that Cole had raised a loan to save the ranch from foreclosure. He felt guilty, because it had never occurred to him that Cole was having financial trouble. He'd been much too wrapped up in his own problems to think about Cole's; disquieting, when Cole was responsible for so many people, including his mother. Well, he was back now, and he was going to help. Cole was speaking to him, at least, so perhaps he wouldn't be thrown off the porch when he arrived.
Spanish Flats was prospering. Ben noticed the new paint on the house and the new fences with barbed wire strung neatly between them to keep Cole's huge herds of cattle in. The car he'd hitched a ride in was an old open-cabbed one, like Marion's runabout without the top, and he was getting his expensive light suit dusty, but he didn't really mind. Summer had come, and the landscape was green and lush this year, since adequate rainfall had given it a boost.
Marion was not only still alive, despite the dire predictions of the year before, she was more alive than Ben had seen her in years.
She ran onto the porch to hug him, tears in her eyes as she held him before her and looked at him with pride.
"You've grown up, haven't you, my dear?" she asked.
"It was inevitable, although I'm sure you wondered if it would ever happen," Ben said gently. He looked around. "Is Cole home?"
"He and Lacy are out at the barn, looking at Cole's new Santa Gertrudis bull. Why don't you go out and surprise them while I lay the table? You must be starved!"
"I am, indeed. I'll catch you up on all the news when we come in. Are you all right?" he added worriedly.
"I'm doing unexpectedly well, and keeping the doctor in knots," she said smugly. "My heart is stronger than ever. He calls me a walking miracle."
"You always were, though," he replied, bending to kiss her cheek.
He found Cole and Lacy staring over the gate into a large stall in the barn, where a huge red-coated bull was stuffing himself on corn and oats and molasses.
"Hail the conquering hero!" Lacy laughed, then opened her arms.
Ben hugged her, savoring her warm scent for seconds before he forced himself to let her go. Lacy was the only dream he wouldn't realize, he reminded himself. Fame and fortune would surely come his way with hard work, but Lacy was forever Cole's.
He shook hands with his brother. "How goes it?"
Cole smiled. "Very well, as you see. The latest addition to my breeding herd. Handsome brute, isn't he?"
"For something with four legs, I suppose so. How are you both?" he asked, because something was very different here. They were standing close together, and when they looked at each other, Ben felt like an intruder into their private world. Whatever they'd felt for each other when they married, it was love now. A blind man couldn't have mistaken it for anything else.
"We're fine," Cole said, smiling down at Lacy. "Better by the day."
"Oh, yes." she said, grinning. She slid her arm around Cole's slim waist and sighed as she snuggled against his chest. He drew her close, kissing her dark hair.
Yes, Ben thought, this was a marriage he'd envy until he died. And to think he'd brought it about!
"You said that Katy and Turk had married?" he asked, diverting his mind from Lacy.
"It's much more serious than that," Lacy laughed. "Katy is pregnant! Turk is driving us all up the walls worrying about her. Last week she mentioned that she wanted some ice cream, and he drove all the way to San Antonio and brought it back in an old ice chest. She said she doesn't dare say she wants dates; Turk would probably fly to Arabia to get her some!"
"I suppose she's over that mobster she married?" Ben asked probingly.
"Well over," Cole replied. "He was on drugs. His death was tragic, but he was beating Katy. I didn't mourn him." Ben grimaced. "Poor Katy."
"She's fine, now. You can see for yourself when she and Turk get back from her doctor's appointment."
"And Faye?" Ben asked, looking at the bull as he asked the question, trying not to sound too concerned.
"Faye is due any day," Lacy told him. "She only works a few hours a day now."
Ben's hands tightened on the gate. "She won't answer my letters. I know she can't read and write, but she could get someone."
"Yes, she can read and write, Ben," Lacy said, correcting him. "Cousin Ruby taught her. She's quite a different girl these days. She's even being tutored in English."
Ben was shocked. "Our Faye?"
"Our Faye. You'd be very proud of the strides she's made," Cole replied. "She's quite sought after in San Antonio, despite her condition," he added, with only a bare concession to the truth, to draw Ben out. Sure enough, the younger man looked suddenly thunderous.
"I thought I might try to see her tomorrow."
"Good idea," Cole agreed.
"You said in your last letter that you'd sold your book," Lacy said. "Congratulations!"
"I've had to do a lot of revisions, but that's something a writer expects." Ben replied, smiling with helpless pride. He glanced at Cole. "I wasn't certain of my welcome, after what happened. I do regret it, Cole. I suppose I had my nose too far in the clouds to realize how callous I'd become."
"It was more your publisher's daughter than you," Lacy said. "And I was worried that you might not forgive me for closing him down, but I was furious at the way Jessica treated poor little Faye."
"Yes," Ben said. "You don't need to apologize for anything to me, Lacy. I was so infatuated with Jessica that it took that night to open my eyes. She was ice cold and calculating. I didn't even suspect that I was being used. I should have known when old man Bradley refused to talk about hirin
g additional staff. He didn't need it, did he, when I was doing everything from writing the stories to selling advertising!"
"Your name was his most valuable tool," Lacy said quietly. "Perhaps you didn't realize that San Antonio is only a small town that grew. My great-uncle was well known, and most people knew my background. When I married Cole, that was common knowledge, too. The Whitehall name carries a great deal of weight in San Antonio, as well, and not because of me." She looked up at Cole adoringly. "Cole's word is his bond. The strength of it would have opened any doors you cared to try."
Cole knew that wasn't quite true, but Lacy's adoring eyes made his knees weak. He bent and kissed her forehead with aching possession. "Of course, your talent helped too," Cole added, glancing at his brother. "You used words the way Cherry and Taggart gentle horses."
"That's high praise," Ben said.
"You're my brother."
Ben grinned. "Glad you noticed. Does that mean you'll give me the loan of the runabout to drive in to San Antonio tomorrow?"
Cole groaned. "I walked right into that one!"
"With your eyes closed," the younger man agreed. "Thanks, Cole! You're a prince!"
IT was a long drive. Ben had spent a wonderful night at home in the security of his family. It had strengthened the old ties and made him realize finally what he wanted most. He wanted what Cole and Lacy had. What Turk and Katy had. He wanted a wife and a home of his own, and a family. If he could convince Faye to give in and marry him, he'd have the family ready-made, he thought amusedly.
She was at the dress shop. He stood at the window and just stared inside at first, fascinated by the change in her. No more wild, flighty clothes, no more impish youth. Faye was a woman and looked it, from her neat gray maternity suit to the stylish short haircut that was neatly trimmed. She wasn't made up at all, and she didn't need to be. She had a flawless complexion and fine bone structure.
Ben opened the door, setting a small bell ajingle. Faye looked toward the door smiling.
"Yes, may I help you... ?" Her soft voice trailed off as she stared at Ben. She went very pale and still, wondering if she was daydreaming again. So often, she'd thought how it would feel if he ever came to see her. Now she was struck dumb by the impact of it.
Ben took off his hat and swept back his hair, smiling quietly as he looked at her across the counter. "Yes, you may," he replied. "I'm on my way to the bookstore to buy a book on how to grovel. I've never done it before, you see, but I think I've reached the age of enlightenment. I'd like something to do with sackcloth and ashes, as well, if they have it, so that I can do the thing properly."
Faye put down the book she was slowly learning to read— Tennyson, in fact—and just stared at him.
He moved a little closer so that he could lean against the counter. His eyes went to her small, soft hand resting there. No rings of any kind graced their whiteness. "You look blooming, Faye," he said after a minute. "Are you well?"
"Yes."The word sounded more like a squeak than a syllable. "You didn't answer my letters," he said, with soft accusation. "There seemed little point," she managed slowly. "I do very well by myself. And you have your career."
"My career will do just as well with a family as without one," he said simply. "You see, I've discovered that I was searching for myself in all the wrong places. I wasn't in Paris at all, Faye. I was right here," and he touched his fingers very gently to the gray fabric over her heart.
She jerked back, flushing. "Ben, you mustn't!" she exclaimed, looking quickly around to make sure no one had been looking in the window.
He smiled. "You're not my old Faye at all, are you, darling?"he said softly. "You're very proper these days. You don't even sound the same."
"I've been improving myself," she explained.
"You never needed improving," he said, watching her. "You were always generous and giving and overflowing with love. I was the one who needed improvement. I won't say I've achieved it, but I think I'm somewhat better than I was when I left. Take a chance on me, Faye?" he added, his face somber.
"Be—because of the baby?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Because I need you," he replied. "I didn't know it, but I do." "You don't love me."
"Don't I?" He took her soft hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. "I've never been with any woman the way I was that day with you—when we loved each other so tenderly. If that wasn't love, I'll never know it at all."
She hesitated. He'd hurt her very badly, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to risk her heart again.
"I don't know." She touched her swollen belly and suddenly jerked.
"Are you all right?" Ben asked quickly, his face a study in horror. "Faye!"
"She.. .kicks," Faye said hesitantly, and blushed. "What?"
She reached for his hand uncertainly and, glancing around quickly to make sure they were alone, she laid his fingers against the hard mound of her stomach and let him feel the baby's feet pushing against them.
He gasped. He blushed and then he paled, and his eye were full of astonishment, wonder. His fingers moved. "Faye, I can feel.. .a foot!"
"Yes, of course," she said, laughing involuntarily at his absorption. "Ben, they move. Didn't you know?"
"No!" His hand flattened over his child and he lifted his eyes to hers. "Oh, Faye. You've got to marry me now!"
"I can't go to Paris—"
"I'm going to buy a house here in town," he interrupted. "You can go ahead with your job, if you like, while I write."
"The baby will interfere with your solitude..."
"I'll watch the baby while you're away," he said, with grinning practicality.
"That would be scandalous!" she gasped.
"So what? Don't you like shocking people? You must, to be working in that blatant condition." He leaned over the counter. "Marry me. I'll keep you in fashionable poverty and drive you mad with lovemaking."
She laughed. It was the first time she had in months. "Oh, Ben," she said, exasperated.
"One little word. It's very easy to say. Just, yes."
She hesitated. But the baby kicked, and Ben's smile widened, and she caved in. "All right, then. Just.. .yes."
His eyes twinkled. "I knew you would."
She hadn't, until now. But when he took her in his arms, as close as the baby would allow, it all came right. He kissed her warmly, hungrily, and then again.
"Wait a minute "he said abruptly, lifting his head and frowning. "You said—she—kicks!"
"I want a little girl," she said simply. "But you don't know..."
"Well, Ruby said I'm carrying very much behind and I'm very wide, so it must be a girl. Boys are high up and very rounded in front." "Old wives' tales," he scoffed.
"Just you go ahead and laugh," she said. "It will so be a girl. You'll see."
Teresa Margaret Whitehall was born three hectic weeks later. Ben and Faye had been quietly married two days after he'd arrived home, and he'd moved them into a small but neat house near the dress shop. As he'd promised, he kept the baby while Faye went out to work. The neighbors just shook their heads and smiled when he pushed the baby down the sidewalk in her pram. But they were kind smiles, just the same.
turk unexpectedly inherited a piece of land near Victoria, Texas, and after much deliberation he and Katy moved there after their daughter, Mary Elizabeth, was born. Cole gave Turk a seed herd of his best Santa Gertrudis cattle to start with, and Turk grinningly promised that he'd parlay them into an empire. He was already on the way. He'd renovated the old Spanish house that sat on the property and named it Casa Verde. It was one of a kind, like the ex-flier himself. Katy was supremely happy, content with her loving husband and her little girl. There were frequent unsigned cards from Chicago. They came on Katy's birthday and Mary's. They came at Easter, Christmas and sometimes on Valentine's Day. As Mary grew older, present accompanied the cards. Turk snarled at first but as time went by and he grew secure in the love of his family, he unbent enough to overlook the attention from h
is old rival.
It did disturb him that he had no son to leave his holdings to. But Mary was a delightful child who'd inherited his blond hair and Katy's green eyes, and was as open and loving as her mother. She'd have sons, he supposed. Anyway, he had the moon. At least he had a child. Cole didn't. That had to be the one bare spot in his friend's plain of happiness.
the family had all come together for a Fourth of July celebration. It was early 1926, and the country was temporarily prospering as stock prices kept going up and up. Cole had actually made some investments through his business partner in Chicago, and had made enough to pay off Wardell and put a huge chunk of money in the bank as well. He'd invested in still more stocks and was on his way to wealth.
Lacy hadn't invested her money in stocks, despite all his coaxing. She'd put it in land, instead, even buying into Turk's enterprise over near Victoria. Land, she said, was safer than banks; he'd see one day. He only laughed.
She was walking with Mary Elizabeth, picking wildflowers in the field near the house, when her head began to spin and she fainted. She came to with Cole's white face above her, his arm cradling her head.
"I'm so sick," she managed.
"Here, dear," Katy said, placing a cold, wet cloth on her head. "I didn't tell Marion. She's not doing at all well today herself."
"Good thing you didn't," Cole muttered. "Her heart is giving out. Lacy, sweetheart. Can you get up?"
"I don't think so." She groaned. "It must have been something I ate."
Katy grinned. "Really? You haven't kept breakfast down one day this week."
"I know." Lacy sighed. She looked worriedly up at Cole. "I didn't want to tell you. It's enough that Marion's so poorly without your having to worry about me. I can't imagine what's wrong."
Katy was laughing. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.
Cole glared at her. "Illness amuses you?" he demanded angrily.
Katy sat down on the ground. "Oh, Cole! Are you both blind? Don't you really know what's wrong with her?"