Texas Heat (49 page)

Susan's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes flew to the crib where Jessie was sleeping. “Did you let him in?”

“No, ma'am. He's standing on the porch.”

“Good, let him stand there. Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes.” She immediately called Valentine Mitchell, who chuckled when Susan explained the situation.

“Don't panic. I'll be right there. This saves us a lot of time and bother. Invite him in, by all means. Offer him a drink; be cordial. It'll be the last time he ever enjoys Sunbridge's hospitality.”

Susan's heart refused to return to its natural beat. Her eyes were drawn again and again to the sleeping baby as she threw the infant's laundry back into a basket. Should she call Ferris or not? She decided to deal with it herself, with Valentine's help.

Susan opened the door and motioned for Jerome to enter. She led the way to the living room and offered him a drink. Jerome asked for a gin with a twist of lemon. With surprise, she realized she'd forgotten this was her husband's favorite drink.

“This is as hospitable as I'll get. Now, what do you want? Why did you come here?”

Jerome's eyes widened. “For you, of course. Now that you've had the baby, maybe we can get on with our lives.”

Susan laughed hysterically. “You must be out of your mind! I haven't heard from you in almost a year. You steal all my money, don't call or write, and suddenly you show up and expect me to welcome you back. Didn't you get my letters? Didn't you get the divorce papers?”

“No. I don't know what you're talking about.”

Susan knew he was lying, and Jerome knew she knew; still he persisted. “I managed to get us a South American tour. The money is fabulous. Now that you have this motherhood thing out of your system, we can pick up where we left off.”

Susan hooted. “You are out of your mind! I don't want anything to do with you. Do you realize you haven't even asked about our daughter? By the way, her name is Jessica Margaret.”

Jerome blanched. He should have known he'd have to go through the baby to get to Susan. “I didn't forget; it was just that the pleasure of seeing you again drove it from my mind. Of course I want to see her. Our agent said she's crippled or something.”

“Or something,” Susan said coldly. “I noticed you mentioned a tour before Jessie, too. Well, forget it. I'm not interested. All I want is to be rid of you. Did you go through all the money you stole from me?”

“It was
our
money.”

“Wrong, Jerome, most of it was
my
money, left to me by my father. It's all gone, right? That's why you're here. All I want from you is a divorce.”

Jerome changed his tactics. “Look, Susan. I need you. If you want to bring the baby, that's okay. Get a nurse or something. We can take on the world, be really famous the way we were in Europe. You liked it—the applause and the recognition and the money. Admit it!”

“That was light-years ago. The only playing I do now is for charity to help our daughter. As a matter of fact, I'm giving a recital next week. This might surprise you, but we sold seven hundred and fifty tickets for one hundred dollars each. All of the monies will go to the spina bifida organization I've started here.”

Jerome's eyes almost popped out of his head. Susan was talking about seventy-five thousand dollars! “You're giving it away to some . . . some . . .”

“Say it, Jerome. Spina bifida. Yes, I'm giving it away. In the fall I'm giving another recital in Austin. And another thing. I want you to hear this from me and not someone else: As soon as my divorce is final, I'm remarrying.”

“Susan, please reconsider. I can't make it without you. I want us to stay married.”

Susan's heart was beating normally now. She looked at the man she'd been married to for so long and felt only relief that she wouldn't ever have to see him again after today. “I have a baby now,” she said calmly. “I have to put her first. Music will always be a part of my life, but it won't
be
my life. Jessie is. I'm sorry you won't be around to enjoy her. I can't believe you're not interested in your own child.”

“She's crippled,” Jerome said as if that explained everything. “But I love you,” he said, grappling for something to say.

“That's really funny, Jerome. See how I'm laughing,” Susan said coldly.

“You'll be sorry. I'll never give you a divorce. I can even sue for custody of that kid. Now what do you have to say?”

“She isn't going to say anything,” Valentine Mitchell said as she laid her briefcase on a mahogany table. “I'm Valentine Mitchell, Susan's lawyer.'

A woman lawyer. It figured. “Well, Valentine Mitchell, Susan's lawyer,” he said mockingly, “maybe you better tell
my wife
what my rights are.”

“I suppose I could do that, but why don't I show you a few things I have in my briefcase. Maybe you'll want to rethink what you just said.”

Jerome's eyes narrowed. Susan was folding and pleating the folds of her dress nervously. The only sound in the room was the lock of the Gucci briefcase snapping open.

“What we have here are signed affidavits from two banks. In this hand are canceled checks and bank drafts. In this third pile here are your joint accounts, which you had every legal right to use. This fourth pile, the long papers, are the divorce agreements.”

“If you think I'm signing anything, you're crazy,” he said contemptuously.

Valentine smiled, showing a perfect set of even white teeth. She looks like a barracuda, Jerome thought, suddenly afraid.

“I think you will,” she replied. “Now, as I said, it was all right for you to withdraw the seven thousand eight hundred sixty-five dollars in your joint checking and savings. Also the stocks and bonds in both your names. I'm not concerned with those. But the authorities take a very dim view of forgery, both in England and here in the States. And you forged your wife's name on monies that were sent to her from her trust. You also requested some rather large advances, forged your wife's name to the letters and then to the drafts.” She smiled at him. “You could get five to ten for that.

“Now here are the divorce papers,” she continued, “and this other legal-looking sheaf of papers is also waiting for your signature. It says, in layman's terms, that you are giving Susan sole custody of Jessica Margaret de Moray. No alimony or child support is requested. I will give you—” Valentine looked at her watch “—exactly three minutes. At the end of those three minutes I'll call the sheriff, who, by the way, is my granddaddy.” Valentine uncapped her silver pen and handed it to Jerome.

“You're railroading me!”

“I suppose you could say that. It's your choice. Prison life doesn't agree with anyone.”

Jerome signed his name in a mean, narrow scrawl. He was seething with anger when he stared at Susan.

Valentine looked up from the papers. “What was that you just whispered? A threat? Tell me that wasn't a threat.”

Jerome stalked to the door... then stopped and came back. Susan stared at him as he spoke, not believing a man could actually force words past tight lips and clenched teeth. “I don't have enough money to get back to England.”

“I thought of that,” Valentine said coolly. “Check into the airport. There's a People's Express leaving tomorrow. I prepaid a ticket for you. Good-bye, Mr. De Moray.”

When the door closed behind him, Susan broke down and cried. “He didn't even want to see Jessie. He called her a cripple. How could I have loved such a person?”

“Everyone's entitled to one mistake. What did he say to you?”

“He said... he said... he made it sound like Jessie wasn't worth loving because of her handicap.
He's
the cripple, not her. She's different, and I love that little girl more than life itself!” Susan cried vehemently.

“Then that's all that's important. I understand you'll be getting married when the divorce is final, I hope you'll invite me to the wedding.”

Susan smiled. “Of course. But it won't be right away. I want to be sure I'm doing the right thing. I don't want to make any more mistakes.”

“Honey, Ferris Armstrong is no mistake. He's as good a person on the inside as he looks on the outside. You snagged yourself a real hunk this time. You Coleman ladies seem to have a knack for picking winners.”

“Only after we go through hell with the losers. Thanks, Valentine.”

“My pleasure. Listen, there aren't any more of you, are there?”

“No, I'm it. What do you think will happen to Jerome?”

“He'll go back to England and scout around for some nice lady who is musically inclined, and then go on from there. The Jeromes of this world always keep going. I'll get this on the court calendar, and you should be a free woman in thirty days.”

Free. What a wonderful word. Just her and Jessie. Ferris too, if she wanted him.

And she was beginning to think that she wanted.

Maggie and Rand returned to Sunbridge over the Memo
rial Day weekend. They were greeted with enthusiasm and hoots of pleasure, and Maggie basked in her family's joy at seeing her. It was Rand who announced that they would marry at the end of summer when the boys returned from Hawaii.

“We'll have just enough time to take you guys shopping for new clothes. Do you still want to stay in New York a few days before leaving?”

“Adam said it might be a good idea,” Cole said. “The plane leaves New York on the twelfth of June.”

“Has anyone heard from Sawyer or Mam?” Maggie asked anxiously.

“Not a word,” Susan said. “I'm sorry, Maggie.”

In the middle of her unpacking Maggie stopped, picked up the phone, and called Sawyer. “It's Maggie, Sawyer. How are you?”

“What difference does it make? Is there something you want?”

“Yes. I want to know how you are.”

“I'm still alive. I'll be able to make the trip. Does that make you feel better or worse?”

“It doesn't make me feel anything. I'm numb. I want to know if you've changed your mind about the surgery.”

“No. I haven't changed my mind.”

“You're a fool.”

“Like mother, like daughter. Right,
Mam
? So why don't you just get off my back?”

Maggie hesitated, trying to think of things to say. At least Sawyer wasn't hanging up on her. It was almost as though she wanted her to stay on, to bait her, to keep the verbal exchange going. “I wish I could, but I can't.”

“It's too late. You're always too late, Maggie.”

“I know,” Maggie said, and Sawyer could hear the pain in her voice. “Nothing can ever be the same again. We aren't the same people we were back then. But I think we're wiser now. Why can't we come to terms, try to work things out? I'm willing.”

“You should be. After all, it's easy to be forgiving when you're the one who screwed up. I'm the result of your screwup. You want me to forgive you; well, I can't. So why don't you just hang up and let me alone?”

“Why don't you hang up?”

“You called me, remember?” Sawyer said through clenched teeth.

“I want to see you before you leave for Hawaii. I'll come to New York with the boys. I won't stay. I just want to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care how you're doing. Because I want to see you with my eyes.”

“You want to play ghoul so you'll feel better is more like it. Well, I don't look so great, so save yourself the trouble,” Sawyer said, her voice cracking.

“I'll be there with the boys. You can always tell me to leave. Will you let the boys see you act like that?”

“They know my feelings.”

“I suppose they do, but they don't understand them. Not anymore. I don't think you have either of them mesmerized anymore. They know you're being selfish and acting like a fool.”

“Let them tell me that.”

Maggie sighed. “Sawyer, regardless of what you
think
, you know I care. I want to help you if you'll let me.”

“Don't you mean you want to help yourself? You can't help me. No one can help me.”

“
That's a damn lie
!” Maggie screamed. Rand came running, and so did the boys. They stood helplessly in the doorway while Maggie ranted into the mouthpiece. “You're being stupid! Everyone wants to help you. Mam, Adam, Rand, all of us. Dr. Marlow is the best surgeon Sloan-Kettering has to offer and he will do his best for you. His best. Do you
hear
? Goddamn you, Sawyer, use your head and stop blaming everyone! You're really getting off on this phone call, aren't you? You like making us sweat. Admit it!” Maggie cried. “You like playing martyr. It must have been a real comedown for you after being pampered and coddled all those years. You're getting all the attention again, just like before. Let's all pity Sawyer. Look how noble she's being. She's going to die. Rally 'round, everyone. Coax Sawyer, plead with her, tell her how much she's loved and cared for. You make me sick. If I were Adam, I'd have booted your tail out of there a long time ago. You must make him sick, too.”

“Get off this phone and don't call me again!” Sawyer screamed.

“No!” Maggie screamed back.

“Go to
hell
!

“I've been there and back. It's not a nice place. Think about that. God will punish you for giving up. You're a Coleman.”

“Shit on the Colemans!”

“We're only good enough when it's convenient for you. Is that it?”

“Hang up! Damn you, hang up!”

“No. You hang up on me.” When Maggie heard the sound of crying at the other end of the line, she gently replaced the receiver. Tears streamed down her face, but she was smiling when she turned to face the trio at the door. “It isn't what you think. She wouldn't break the connection. She's starting to reach out.”

“Mother, is she all right?” Cole asked fearfully.

“She's on the way. She's thinking, considering the odds. I don't know which way she'll go. Pray—that's my best advice.”

While Maggie, Rand, and the boys shopped and packed, Sawyer took long walks in the park and saw Nick Deitrick every day. She paid two visits to the Sloan-Kettering Institute. She called her grandmother, and the gentle sorrow in Billie's voice was almost more than she could bear. Why didn't she rail her out the way Maggie and the others had done? “I want to come up there to talk with you, Grand,” she begged.

“No, I'm sorry. You can't come here. I can't make decisions for you. It's not the operation anymore. It's Maggie. Don't confuse the two. I can't help you, darling. Only Maggie can help you. Don't be afraid. Make the first move . . . and call me again if I can help.”

“She thinks I've forsaken her for Maggie,” Billie said sadly after she'd hung up. “She really believes it, Thad.”

“No she doesn't. She's just floundering. She has to struggle before she can accept what she needs most. You did the right thing. Poor darling, your heart is breaking. It'll be all right. I have a good feeling about it.”

“If you told me it was light outside and I knew it was midnight, I'd believe you.” Billie smiled wanly. “Let's go for a walk.”

“With the dogs?”

Billie laughed. “All ten of them.” She whistled, and they came from every corner, slipping and sliding on the kitchen tile, then lined up with unbelievable precision at the door.

“This is the way we're going to do it, gang,” Thad told them. “I go first because I'm an admiral, and Billie goes next because she's an admiral's wife. You follow one at a time. There will be no cheating.”

Billie looked over her shoulder at the dogs, who trotted in single file till they were on the road. Then Thad clapped his hands. “Disss-misssed!” The dogs scattered.

“We should take pictures of that. No one would believe it.”

“It's just a question of authority. It's the tone, the rank, and my straight back.”

“And the gumdrops you'll feed them when we get home.”

Thad sniffed. “That's just a small part of it.”

“So I'm Sawyer's authority figure. Is that it?”

“I knew I married you because you were bright.”

“What about beautiful and charming?”

“That, too.”

“You always make me feel better. It will be all right, won't it, Thad?”

“Yes, darling. Like I said, I have a feeling about it. But let's pray that someone up there is going to help us out.”

 

On one of the shopping expeditions into Austin, Cole and Riley both picked out a gift for Luana—unbeknownst to each other, of course. Riley chose an exquisite bottle of perfume called Joy. Cole, more daring, bought a Gucci shoulder bag.

Cole didn't know what was worse: being with Luana for a few minutes of furtive kissing and hugging, or worshiping her from a distance. He'd obeyed the rules because he didn't want to see Luana get hurt. But he knew he was in love and wondered how he was going to get through the summer without seeing her. He imagined all the things he would buy her—native jewelry, a muumuu, a flower lei. He knew she liked him best, even though she hadn't said so. She'd cried when he'd told her he was going away for the summer. Then she'd asked offhandedly if Riley was going, too. He wished she weren't so nice to everyone. It gnawed at his gut.

Right now she was angry with him because he wouldn't risk going over to her apartment. But tonight was Saturday, date night. He was going to hang around the back porch like some ninny, hoping Luana would come out and sit with him on the steps. Maybe, just maybe, he'd take a chance, and if Ben Simms did go into town, he might...

When dinner was over, Riley left the table to get dressed for his date in town. “A cool chick,” he told Rand, laughing. “She knows all about sports, and baseball is her favorite. She knows all about ground balls and sliders, and she says my curveball is the best she's ever seen.”

“As compared to what?” Rand teased.

“As compared to an older brother who plays ball in the minors. I don't think I'll be too late, Aunt Maggie.”

Maggie and Rand were going to the country club. Susan had a date with Ferris, and Ferris's mother had a date with Jessica. Cole was on his own.

In his room he could hear Riley whistling. He hated the sound. They'd both been fighting long and hard for Luana's affections, but Riley, not content to put all his eggs in one basket, kept dating—one girl after another. Evidently Riley wasn't as lovesick as he was. Cole hated what the feeling was doing to him. He
wanted
her. The other girls, even the ones who chased him—something he thought would never happen—didn't appeal to him at all. He knew the guys talked about Luana. Tease, trash, slut—they'd whispered all the worst names, and he'd heard them. But he knew in his gut that Luana was a virgin. Besides, she'd told him she was. And she was different with him. She didn't pretend the way she did in school. He knew how hard it was for her there. He hadn't belonged in the beginning, either.

Ever since he and Riley had gotten their own cars, though, things had changed. Luana seemed to prefer his Cougar convertible to Riley's Berlinetta. His mind raced as he tried to figure out a way to take Luana for a spin this evening. If he just happened to be out on the road leaving Sunbridge, and she just happened to be out there, too, he could pick her up. He could christen the Cougar. Jesus. He almost fainted with the thrill of excitement that rushed through him.

Riley had given up whistling; now the Oak Ridge Boys were singing. Cole grimaced and stuck a Lionel Richie tape in his player, turning up the volume. Luana liked Lionel and Michael Jackson.

It was just starting to get dark when Cole heard the Berlinetta roar out of the driveway. He looked out his bedroom window and saw Luana sitting outside the apartment door, an open book on her lap. He craned his neck to see if her father's truck was in the yard. It wasn't.

Quickly he finished dressing. Preppy tonight—a white polo shirt, gray slacks, a navy-blue blazer, and topsiders. He doused himself with Brut after-shave, then slicked his hair back with both hands. He was ready. This was going to be
the
night; he could feel it.

In the circular driveway Cole pretended not to see Luana. He made sure, though, that she saw the way he was dressed. Susan had just secured Jessica into her travel seat and was about to climb behind the wheel. He walked over nonchalantly and leaned in the car window.

“Wow!” Susan said, whistling. “Don't you look nice. And you smell terrific.” She grinned. “Big date?”

Cole knew their voices would carry to Luana. “Yeah,” he drawled. “There's a party in town.”

“You're going to have to fight the girls off with a stick, looking the way you do. Remember now, don't drink and drive.”

“I won't, Aunt Susan. Did Mother and Rand leave yet?”

“About five minutes ago. You have a good time. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Cole backed away from the car and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. That's what movie stars did to show nonchalance. He was going to turn in a second now and walk to his car, at which point he would notice Luana for the first time. He turned, a look of pleased surprise fixed on his face.

The look turned sour when he saw Luana was gone. He sprinted upstairs and grabbed the big white gift box with the red-and-green stripes, then raced down the back steps, across the yard, and up the stairs to the apartment above the garage.

It was empty.

Cole tossed the Gucci box on the kitchen table next to Luana's books. Where the hell was she? She'd been here just minutes ago. He'd be dead meat if Ben Simms found him here. Maybe she'd gone for a walk. His pulses pounded in his ears on the way down the steps. By the time he climbed into the red sports car, he was in a near frenzy. He slammed it into reverse, then first, and was already in third when he tooled out of the yard onto the long stretch that would lead him to the main road.

Just outside the arch, Cole flicked on the high beams and screeched to a stop, his hand working fast as his left foot stomped on the clutch. There she was. He let the car idle as he pulled to the side of the road. The window slid down with a press of his index finger. “Want a lift?” he asked coolly.

“Where y'all goin'?”

“Party in town. Want to go?”

“I wasn't invited and I'm not dressed for a party,” Luana said, pointing to her jeans and faded T-shirt. “If you have time, I could go to MacAllister's for a Coke.”