Summer Jazz

by Webb, Peggy

  o0o

  When they woke up, it was raining. Fat droplets splatted against the windows and hammered on the roof. The sky, the lake, even the bedroom, had turned a gloomy gunmetal gray.

  The gloom didn't daunt the lovers, though. Love was their sunshine. Hunter snuggled Mattie, spoon fashion, against his body. "How about a picnic on the beach?" he asked.

  "In this rain? Are you crazy?"

  "No. Just a little passionate."

  "How little?"

  He guided her hand. "That little."

  "That's not little. That's shocking."

  "Then, Mattie, I suggest you do something about it before it gets out of hand." And she did.

  o0o

  Much later Mattie was chin-deep in bubbles when Hunter banged on the bathroom door.

  "Quick. Get your swimsuit. We're going to the beach."

  "Is the sun shining?"

  He opened the door and grinned at her. "Who needs sunshine when I'm around? Hurry, Mattie, or I'll be forced to get into the tub and burst a few of those bubbles."

  She scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew them at him. "You're invited."

  "Good Lord, woman. I'm a mere man, not Superman."

  "Chicken."

  He plunged through the door, stripping as he walked. "Never let it be said that Hunter Chadwick backed down from a challenge."

  Bubbles spilled over the edge of the tub as he climbed into the water. Mattie wrapped her soapy arms around him and began nibbling his neck.

  "Hmmm. Yummy," she said.

  He laughed. "The wonderful thing about women too long deprived is their insatiability."

  Her head snapped back. "Why, you—"

  He stopped her words with his mouth. By the time they finally got out of the tub, all the bubbles had disappeared and the water had turned cold.

  Hunter wrapped them in huge towels and carried Mattie back to the bedroom.

  "Picnic-on-the-beach time, Mattie. Get into your swimsuit."

  She glanced toward the window. "It's still raining, Hunter."

  He set her on her feet and swatted her bottom. "No, it's not. The sun's shining, the waves are lapping against the shore, and the coconut trees are swaying."

  "Coconut trees? In Dallas?" She put a hand on his brow. "Do you have a fever? I think lack of sleep has affected your brain."

  "It affected parts of me, but not my brain. Put on your swimsuit." He unknotted her towel and dropped it to the floor. The amber light gleamed in his eyes as he raked her from head to toe. "On the other hand, we could forget about the coconuts." He dropped his towel.

  "Look who was just talking about deprivation. Put on your swimsuit." She crossed the room and stepped into a swimsuit that was so sexy, it could have started a revolution. "Lead me to the coconut trees, Hunter."

  He didn't move.

  "Hunter?"

  He lifted his gaze to her face. "If ten years can make you that much more beautiful, you'll be too much for a man to bear by the time you're forty-eight."

  She walked over to him and looked deep into his remarkable black eyes. "Have I told you today how much I love you?"

  "I never get tired of hearing it."

  "I love you, Hunter Chadwick."

  "Don't ever forget that, Mattie."

  "I promise."

  He lowered his head and took her lips. The kiss was as light as summer rain and as tender as the first daffodils of spring. When it was over, he put on his swimsuit and led her to the den.

  Cardboard trees with crepe paper branches bent under their burden of real coconuts, attached with wire.

  A giant sunlamp gleamed through a yellow umbrella. A small child's pail, filled with sand, stood on the floor beside two striped red and yellow towels. A wicker picnic hamper rested under the umbrella sun.

  "The beach, princess."

  "You did all this, Hunter?"

  "Yes. Just for you."

  "Why? We could have had a picnic in the kitchen."

  "As I recall, some of our best conversations took place on the beach." He pulled her down onto the towels. "It's time to talk, Mattie."

  "I'd rather just stay here forever, loving and laughing and forgetting. Especially forgetting."

  "We have to face the truth. We've already partially bared our souls. Let's not stop now."

  She picked up a handful of sand and let it drizzle through her fingers. "I've forgiven you for what happened. Isn't that enough?"

  He wanted to explode. He wanted to bash his fist onto the floor and shout, "Nothing happened!" But if the last few days had taught him anything, they had taught him the damning effect of words spoken in haste. He reined in his impatience.

  "A relationship must be built on trust," he said. "Complete trust." He took her hand out of the child's pail and wiped off the sand. "Look at me, Mattie." She lifted her eyes to his face. "Let's talk about what happened. Let's put the past to rest."

  Her eyes widened. "I don't know why you'd want to talk about something that treacherous." His hand tightened on hers, and a small muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. "Please, Hunter!" She leaned her face against his shoulder. "I love you, and I've put the past behind by forgetting it. It's not important anymore. Can't you let it go at that?"

  He held her fiercely against his chest. "I'll take you, Mattie, any way I can get you."

  They clung together, afraid to let go, afraid that breaking the contact would sever the fragile trust that bound them. The rain assaulted the windows and a deepening gloom penetrated the room, but Hunter and Mattie sat under their false sun and held on to their false hopes. They talked of her extending her stay in Dallas long enough for a wedding. They talked of going back to Paris together, a combined honeymoon and settling of her affairs. They talked of making Dallas their permanent home and keeping her Paris apartment. They discussed how they would juggle two careers and a family. They both wanted children, lots of them.

  But the niggling doubts Hunter's questions had raised, stayed in the back of their minds. Mattie wondered if a part of her would always mistrust him because of what had happened ten years ago, and Hunter wondered how he could accept her terms. He didn't like the idea of being forgiven for something he hadn't done. What was worse, he didn't even know what the hell she had hated him for.

  Their initial joyous exuberance was missing as they finished the weekend at his condominium. Their laughter was restrained, and their lovemaking had a desperate edge to it, as if they were trying to store away something precious that might be snatched from them.

  By the time they started back to Dallas, Mattie knew she'd eventually have to face the truth and that Hunter was determined to find it.

  o0o

  Uncle Mickey had spiffed himself up just to walk through the hedge to Phillip's house. He didn't try to fool himself. Ever since his talk with Hunter, he'd been thinking about Janet Cleary, about all the love they'd had, about all the lonesome years without her. He'd finally decided that it might not be too late, after all. If he was still spry enough to climb in and out of a toy box, surely he was spry enough to climb in and out of Janet's bed.

  The thought made him quicken his step. He punched the bell, then straightened his tie. No need for Janet to see him looking rumpled.

  The door swung open. "Let me take your umbrella," Janet said. Her manner was stiff, formal. "Mr. Houston's expecting you."

  "He can wait. I want to talk to you."

  "About what?" Only a small trembling of her lips betrayed Janet's turmoil.

  "Us."

  "That was over a long time ago."

  Mickey took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "It was never over for me, Janet. I've been a fool to wait this long to tell you."

  Janet patted her severe bun with her free hand. "Just look at me. I must be a fright, all starchy and dried-up and old." Her eyes were stricken. "I'm old, Mickey."

  "You're beautiful." He touched her face. "And I still want you as much as I did twenty years ago. Have dinner with me tonight, Janet."

>   "I shouldn't."

  "Why?"

  "My life is ordered, Mickey. Dull, but pleasant. Having dinner with you won't change what I am—a wrinkled old woman who let life pass her by."

  Mickey's eyes twinkled. "Don't you know I'm a wizard? I create kings and kingdoms. I make dragons that breathe fire and men that fly. Have dinner with me and I’ll make you young again. I’ll make both of us young again."

  "Well..."

  "Say yes. I'm getting older by the minute."

  Janet Cleary laughed. It was a young laugh, gay and uninhibited, and surprising, coming from such a drawn, tired mouth. "Yes."

  "Get ready to be fept off your sweet, woman. I’ll pick you up at seven."

  They were both laughing as she escorted him to Phillip's study, then turned back to her duties.

  o0o

  "I hope that laughter means what I think it means," Phillip said to Mickey.

  "It does. I'm taking Janet out."

  "High time. Sit down. We have something serious to discuss. Damned serious."

  "It must be, to call me away from my afternoon martoonie. And in this rain, to boot."

  "Martini, hell." Phillip stood up and performed a series of karate kicks. "You'd do well to leave the martinis and work out with me. Did you see that form? That body control? That muscle tone?" He chuckled. "It might come in handy when you get Janet between the sheets."

  Mickey laughed. "You're a horny old coot."

  "That's right. Meddlesome, too." Phillip sat back down and propped his elbows on the arms of his chair. "Mattie called me from Hunter's condo. It seems that nephew of yours kidnapped her. She didn't sound too unhappy about it."

  "My boy’s brilliant.”

  "He came to see me not long ago. Asked if I knew why Mattie returned his ring ten years ago."

  "He asked me the same thing."

  "It got me to thinking. Yesterday after the matinee I suddenly remembered an envelope Victoria had given me that summer. She told me it contained pictures that we should keep from William. She knew I was aware of her tawdry affairs. She also knew I'd do anything to spare my son the shame. So I entered into a conspiracy with that witch. Put the envelope into the safe without ever looking inside. I didn't want to know what it contained—until yesterday." He handed Mickey a large manila envelope. "Take a look at that."

  Mickey pulled three black-and-white glossy photographs from the envelope. Angry red patches mottled his face as he looked at the pictures. The first one showed Victoria stepping into a hot tub—Hunter's hot tub—and a tall, dark-haired man embracing her from behind. In the next picture she was sitting in the tub, her hands pinned behind her on the tiled rim, and the man was kissing her. Not just a man, but Hunter. Even though the pictures were fuzzy and taken from a distance, there was no mistaking that profile.

  In the third picture, her torn swimsuit was in the foreground, and Hunter lay atop her in the tub. Again, his profile was plainly visible. Or was it Hunter's profile? Mickey wondered. He leaned down for a closer look. Something was not quite right. It was the hair. Even after a thorough brushing, Hunter's hair had never been that tame.

  He tossed the pictures onto a marble-topped coffee table. 'That's not Hunter."

  "You're sure?"

  "Damned right! Number one, the hair's not right. Number two, Hunter would never do anything as despicable as seducing the mother of the woman he loved."

  "Looks more like rape to me."

  Mickey half rose from his chair. "We've been friends all these years and you say that about my nephew!"

  "Sit down, Mickey. I didn't say I thought it was your nephew. At first I did. I went into such a rage that I kicked a two-thousand-dollar Chinese porcelain vase down the stairs. Broke it all to hell and back."

  "I never did like that vase."

  "Neither did I." Phillip picked up the pictures and stuffed them back into the envelope. "Then I got to thinking." He tapped the envelope. “This is out of character for Hunter—but exactly the kind of scheme that vicious woman would devise. She had the soul of a rattlesnake."

  "I always felt sorry for her. It was sad to see a woman who had everything and didn't know it."

  "Don't waste your sympathy. She was a slut. I never knew why William shut his eyes to the truth." Phillip gazed off into space. "Mattie's like her father in that way."

  "When the truth is too hard to live with, people create fantasies."

  Phillip shot his friend an appreciative look. "What are we going to do about these damned pictures?"

  Mickey didn't hesitate. "Show Hunter. Obviously Victoria used them to break up her daughter's romance. Though I can't for the life of me imagine why."

  "I can. Mattie was competition. She had youth and beauty—two things Victoria was losing."

  "Hunter has to know. Otherwise he’ll spend the rest of his life paying for a crime he didn't commit."

  "You're right. Take them." Phillip handed the envelope to Mickey. "I hope we're doing the right thing."

  o0o

  The pictures made Hunter sick with rage. He kicked a chair. It sailed across the room and smashed into the fireplace grate. "If she weren't dead already, I'd wring her neck."

  Mickey watched silently as his nephew vented his anger.

  "Ten years! Ten years wasted because of her." He swept his hand across his desk top, sending papers flying in every direction. "No wonder Mattie hated me."

  Suddenly he slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God! Mattie! How cam I tell her?"

  "You have to, Hunter." Uncle Mickey was the voice of sanity in the midst of madness. "If you gloss it over, pretend it never happened, it’ll fester between you and eventually destroy your love."

  Hunter looked up. His face was haggard. "She says she's forgiven me."

  "For what? You didn't do anything."

  The blackness of despair was in Hunter's eyes as he pondered his dilemma. Mattie would be hurt again. She'd lived with the false knowledge of his guilt, and now she had to face the truth of her mother's guilt. No wonder she kept backing away from the past. Could he burn the pictures and forget about them? Could he and Mattie still have a good marriage? He knew the answer. No. His guilt was a lie, and a marriage based on a lie would never survive.

  His hand clenched around the damning pictures as he stood up. "Pray that I can do this without losing Mattie."

  Hunter didn't waste any time. He walked straight out of his house and through the hedge. A light was beaming down from the music room. He looked up. Mattie was silhouetted at the piano. He felt as if an iceberg were pressing against his heart.

  "Let our love be strong enough to survive this," he said as he strode across the courtyard. Nobody heard except the crickets.

  o0o

  Phillip answered the door. His sharp old eyes didn't miss the lines of tension around Hunter's mouth, the envelope in his hand. "I'm sorry about all this, son. Maybe it would be best if we just put the pictures back in the safe and pretended I never took them out."

  "No. The truth has to be told. The air has to be cleared between us once and for all."

  Phillip nodded. "She's upstairs practicing. Be gentle."

  "I will. I love her."

  Hunter took the stairs two at a time. He heard her long before he reached the room. The music was bold and sultry and beautiful—like the woman who was playing it. He stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the music seep into his soul. Then he walked through the door and straight to Mattie.

  "I could listen to your music forever," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "And I plan to."

  "Hunter!" She swiveled around and hugged him. "I didn't hear you come in." She made room for him on the piano bench. "I didn't expect to see you again until tomorrow. ML day."

  "What's ML?"

  "Marriage license." She laughed, and Hunter thought it was a sound that rivaled her music. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

  He caught her against his chest in a desperate embrace. "Never. I n
ever intend to let you go, Mattie."

  She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. "Hmmm. You smell wonderful. Like summer wind." She popped open his top button and nibbled. "I think I’ll eat you."

  Hunter wrestled with his control. He wanted to lower her to the floor and bury himself in her soft flesh in blissful forgetfulness. But the envelope in his hand was a vivid reminder of what he had to do. "Phillip's downstairs," he said.

  "We’ll lock the door."

  "Mattie."

  Something in his voice made her look up. All the demons of hell seemed to be gazing out of his eyes. The taste of fear rose in her throat. She gripped his shoulders so hard, her fingernails bit into his flesh. Not now. Not when everything's going so well. Please, God, don't let anything else happen to us.

  Time was suspended as they looked into each other's eyes. The minutes dragged by in raging silence. Everything was magnified. The lines around Hunter's mouth. The beads of sweat on Mattie’s upper lip. The pulse hammering in his throat. The whiteness of her knuckles.

  She closed her eyes for an instant and drew in a long breath. She wouldn't let anything happen. Slowly she relaxed her grip. The toss of her head and the gay lilt of her voice camouflaged her fear.

  "I'm not accustomed to being turned down. Don't tell me you're already tired of me."

  "We have to talk." He stood up, lifting her with him, and moved toward the sofa.

  For the first time Mattie noticed the envelope, Victoria's bold scrawl in red ink across the left-hand corner. She felt as if she were falling into a dark hole.

  "No."

  Her whisper ripped at Hunter's gut. Gently he pulled her down beside him. "I've seen the pictures, Mattie."

  "How?" Her fingernails bit into his arm.

  "They were in Phillip's safe. All these years, he thought he was protecting your father by keeping them. It wasn't until after my visit a while ago that he looked to see what they were."

  She pounded his chest with her fists. "You had no right. No right!"

  He caught her wrists. "I'm not the man in the pictures, Mattie."

  A sob caught in her throat. "Damn you, Hunter. I had forgiven you."