Once Tempted (45 page)

And Ward? Where would he be? Would he be training Bilbao, putting the gelding through his high-speed spins or galloping him flat-out across the corral to stop on a dime as if the horse came equipped with antilock breaks? Maybe the gelding was practicing staring down a heifer or a young steer. Or was Ward out riding Rio with a group of guests, leading them down a trail at a lope? Was he thinking of her? Was he staring off in the distance, filled with longing, aching for her with every breath he took? Could he possibly miss her and feel as miserable as she did?

Despair rocking her, she’d swayed and had to put her hands on the window ledge to steady herself. Drawing a ragged breath, she’d turned slowly, and that was when her gaze had landed on the legal-sized envelope on her dresser.

It was the one her mother had told her about so many weeks ago. Her parents hadn’t forwarded it. She didn’t blame them. She’d told them not to, had stressed how little import it could contain. She decided to open it. Her emotions were so dulled and battered that nothing more could affect them. As she sat down on the edge of her bed, she’d glanced at the return address printed on the envelope.

Yes, “Roberts and Little” sounded like a law firm—a law firm with a nice Park Avenue address, she’d noted as she tore open the back flap. She’d wondered whether Lucas, Anna’s boyfriend, knew of the firm. Inside, she was surprised to find two separately folded packets of stationery. Frowning, she unfolded the first and saw her husband’s bold, slanted script. Without thought, she dropped the other in her lap. Her heart hammering in her chest, she began reading.

Dear Tess …

The tears she’d been unable to shed for so many months fell at last as she read and reread David’s words.

She would have to sort out her feelings eventually, but right now her sadness warred with anger and disbelief that David had gone to such lengths to manipulate her. Not only that, he’d willingly crushed her heart and her belief in herself in order to drive her away when his illness could no longer be hidden. That was what he had called love.

How blind he’d been to her character. He’d thought he could excuse the betrayal she’d suffered at his hands by leaving her his money, as if that would erase the damage he’d inflicted. She’d married him for love. He’d married her to foil his parents—wasn’t that what it ultimately boiled down to?

A thought struck her. What if this letter had reached her shortly after David’s death? What if her parents had forwarded it out of respect for its official, legal appearance?

How would she have reacted? Would the bitterness and anger that was consuming her as she considered the scope of David’s machinations have ruined her relationship with Ward?

No. She’d quickly recognized Ward’s true character—his
strength and desire to protect those he loved. The answer brought relief tinged with sorrow.

The problem with her and Ward’s relationship revolved around trust. She’d been so traumatized and shamed by her dealings with David and the Bradfords that she’d hidden her past from Ward, someone she loved. But she wasn’t alone in her inability to trust. Because of the damage Erica inflicted when she rejected him, Ward hadn’t been able to put complete faith in Tess. He hadn’t been able to banish the doubt that she might ultimately be as mercenary as his ex-fiancée.

She glanced at the now slightly crumpled sheets of paper and realized that there was one crucial reason she wished she’d had this letter in her hands sooner. If she could have seen, written in these inked lines, just how shallow David’s love had been, she knew she would have had the courage to tell Ward the whole truth. But she’d instructed her parents not to forward the envelope—another mistake she would have to live with.

Wearily, she picked up the second letter, unfolded it, and read its contents. When she finished her lips were pressed in a grim line. Fine, she’d contact Paul Roberts, Esq., first thing tomorrow. The sooner she handled the matter of her inheritance, the better.

Tess came downstairs the next morning in a severe navy blue dress. It was as no-nonsense a business outfit as she could find in the suitcases she’d hastily packed and lugged to her car. She’d hung the dress in the bathroom while she showered. The steam generated as she tried to scour the cobwebs from her mind and the grit of days in a car had taken care of the creases.

What the shower hadn’t cleared of her groggy mind and the gritty sandlot that had piled up behind her eyes, the aroma of her mother’s coffee promised to erase. Her
parents drank espresso at breakfast. Just breathing its scent did wonders.

Her mom must have heard Tess turn the shower water off because two golden slices of toast were on her plate next to an empty cup and a glass already filled with orange juice.

Tess kissed her mother on her cheek. “That smells good,” she said.

“Sit, or your toast will get cold. I thought you’d be down sooner.” Her mother too was already dressed. She’d have been to the seven-o’clock Mass.

Tess clasped the handle of the stovetop espresso maker, the kind her parents had used since forever, and poured the thick black brew into her cup. She took a sip and felt her brain settle into order. “Sorry. I had to make a call. Mom, that letter upstairs? It was from David’s lawyer. That’s who I was calling just now. There are some papers I need to sign. I’m meeting with him at eleven-thirty, but I’m sure to be back by early afternoon. What time do you and Dad plan to visit Christopher?”

“I was thinking three
P.M
. so that it won’t interfere with Christopher’s dinner. You know how that upsets him.”

Tess nodded. Anything that disturbed Christopher’s anticipated routine could cause terrible distress. “But he’s doing okay otherwise?”

“He’s still sleeping more than he used to and he’s kind of subdued, but he doesn’t seem unhappy or in pain. He likes the postcards you’ve sent him. I put them in a stack on his dresser so we can look at them together.”

“I’m glad he likes them.” She’d picked up a bunch of goofy cards at rest stops along the way to California. “I still have a few left. I’ll bring them for him. And maybe I can buy a video game on my way back from the meeting with the lawyer.”

Her mother sat down in the chair next to her. “You’re a good girl, Teresa.”

Tess’s heart squeezed painfully. “No, Mom, I’m afraid I’m not. I hurt a man back in California, a man I cared deeply for. A man I loved. I kept things from him because I didn’t want to face them again myself or have him think less of me when he heard what I’d done. He found out anyway and so it’s over between us.”

“I don’t believe you could have done something that would truly make this man think less of you. You
are
a good person. Your life hasn’t been easy—other people would be tempted to feel sorry for themselves, but not you, Teresa. You’re strong. You’ll make it right with him somehow, I know.”

Tess smiled at her mother’s staunch faith. She wished she had the same.

Her mother reached out and laid her hand on Tess’s bare arm. Her voice was tentative, as if she were finding her way along a tricky path. “The thing you didn’t want to discuss with this man, was it about that money you received from David’s family? Your father and I, we were so grateful when you told us about it. You did a wonderful thing for Christopher. But, Teresa, your father and I can manage the expenses on our own—”

“No.” The word came out fiercely. “Setting up Christopher’s fund is the one good thing I’ve done. I’m not going to regret that I helped my brother and you and Dad.”

Her mother nodded tightly and squeezed her hand, too overcome to speak. For the first time in many days Tess felt better, like maybe she
had
done something right.

Midtown Manhattan, with its weekday noise of squealing car tires and rumbling bus engines, with its press of pedestrians moving down the sidewalk like a wall of flesh and babbling tongues, seemed alien to Tess after
her five months at Silver Creek. While waiting for a red light to change, she looked up and saw a strip of sky bounded by concrete, steel, and glass. To think that six months ago she wouldn’t have noticed she was missing anything.

It wasn’t that she no longer loved the city. New York was still amazing, with an energy and a vibrancy like nowhere else.

It was just that now she appreciated the rustle of the wind through the trees; the scent of a pine forest in early spring; the feel of a powerful horse moving beneath her, responding to the pressure of her legs, the subtle opening of her hands. What in the noisy urban congestion of New York could compare with those newfound pleasures?

Nothing, of course, in the mad glittering city could compare with the slow smile of a Stetson-wearing Californian cowboy. Ward’s smile made everything else just a touch dull and commonplace.

She never would have believed it, let alone admitted it, but while crossing Fifty-Fourth Street and narrowly avoiding being flattened by a speeding bike messenger, she recognized another truth: She missed her cowboy boots.

It was only a seven-block walk to the subway station from the lawyer’s swank office on Park Avenue, but her feet were killing her. She’d forgotten how brutal New York’s sidewalks were on the feet and she was sure she could have dodged the cyclist faster and more nimbly had she been wearing her Luccheses.

Still, at least she’d signed the necessary papers before narrowly becoming an urban statistic. Paul Roberts, the lawyer, was disgruntled, but she was not. Indeed, despite her aching feet, she walked with grim satisfaction to Fifty-Ninth and Lexington and descended into the subway to take the N train back to her parents’ house.

“Mom,” she called out as she unlocked the front door and walked inside. “The video game place didn’t have a huge selection, but I found Bubblez. Does Chris have that already? If he does, I’ll go return it.”

She cocked her head. The house wasn’t big enough for her voice not to reach to the farthest corner. Her mom was home, and she’d seen her dad’s Buick in the carport. They must be in the backyard, she thought. It was a beautiful day, and a breeze made her mother’s curtains flutter lightly.

She crossed the dining room and then the kitchen on her way to the back door. On the kitchen counter, her gaze landed on a stack of dishes piled next to the sink, waiting to be washed. Tess frowned. Her mother would never leave a dish unwashed. Her way of handling the chaos in her life was to run a house that would have taught a number of hospitals a thing about sanitary cleanliness. Bacteria from dirty dishes were routinely vanquished.

She pushed open the storm door with a question on her lips. “Mom, Dad, is everything all—” The rest of her sentence fell away. No other thought replaced it. Just a name. “Ward?”

Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked like he should have been having lunch on Madison Avenue rather than sitting in one of the aluminum patio chairs next to her father. Though, of course, he wasn’t sitting; he’d risen to his feet as she pushed the storm door open.

His eyes were locked on her. Although his neat dark olive suit enhanced his tanned complexion, there was a shadow to his eyes and his features looked drawn. He looked as if he’d slept just as poorly since the previous Saturday as she had.

As her heart thudded with impossible hope, she scrambled
to regain her scattered wits. “Ward, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you and to meet your parents. I took the plane late last night.”

“And your friend Ward arrived just as your father and I were sitting down to lunch. We’ve been having a nice talk. Of course, if I’d known we’d be having company to lunch, I’d have made something fancier.”

“It was delicious, Mrs. Casari.”

Was she dreaming? Really, hearing her mother say that Ward’s visit was unexpected—well, that was pretty much the essence of her unconscious longings. Her dreams since Saturday had been full of Ward appearing as if by magic. But in none of them did he look as wonderful as he did right now, in her parents’ minuscule yard. Had Tess had any inkling that Ward might come to New York, she’d have been hyperventilating from nerves. And to hear Ward speak so calmly after everything that had happened between them and have him say he wanted to meet her parents? It wasn’t unexpected; it was unimaginable in broad daylight.

She dug her nails deep into her palms. It stung, so this must be real and not her wildest dream. Her heart leapt.

“Maria, why don’t we go inside and make some coffee for Tess and Ward?” her father said.

“Oh! Yes, that’s a fine idea. Ward, do you like espresso, or shall I make American coffee?”

“Espresso, please. The stronger, the better.”

Tess could hear the smile in her mother’s voice as she told her father to come along. She couldn’t see it, however—she and Ward were still staring at each other. At the click of the door catching in the latch, she launched herself, flying across the manicured grass.

He caught her, sweeping her into his arms, lifting her off her feet, as his mouth found hers, his kiss desperate.

Hers was just as desperate. She clung to him, crushing
her lips to his, moaning as she opened her mouth wide in invitation. She needed to feel him close, needed the wonder of his arms about her.