The Last Honest Woman (23 page)

She thought about the question because she sensed the answer was important. The farm brought her contentment and personal satisfaction. The children… Abby smiled as she remembered their complaints at being sent off to school when the excitement was at home. The children gave her roots and pride and the kind of love she could never describe. And Dylan. He brought her passion and fire and serenity all at once. He made life complete. Even though she knew it was only temporary, it seemed to be enough.

"I'm happier now that I've been in a long, long time." That was true enough. "I like what I've done here. It's important to me."

It was beyond Frank how anyone could be happy staying rooted to one spot. But he'd always wanted his children to have what they wanted most. It didn't matter what it was, as long as they had it. "This writer…" He felt his way along here. It was untested ground. "Well, Abby, a body would have to be blind not to see the way you look at him.''

"I'm in love with him." Strange how easily the words came out now without a pang of regret, without a twinge of fear.

"I see." He let out the whistling sound through his teeth. "Should I talk with him?" For a moment she went blank. Then the laughter came. "Oh, no, Pop, no. You don't have to talk to him." She stopped and kissed her father's smoothly shaven cheek. "I love you."

"And so you should." He pinched her chin. "Now I can admit that your mother and I are concerned about you, living alone out here and trying to run things all on your own." He grinned and tugged on her hair. "Fact is, your mother claims there's not a reason in the world to worry about you, but I worry just the same."

"You don't have to. The boys and I have a good life. The life we want."

"That's easy to say, but a father considers worrying over his daughters a serious matter. Chantel, well, she gave me enough anxiety as a teenager, so I figure we're past that stage now. And Maddy can talk her way in and out of anything under the sun."

"Like her pop."

He grinned. "Like her pop. But you've been a different matter. Never a minute's trouble with you as a child, and then…" He let his words trail off. It wasn't fair or right to tell her now about the hours he'd spend agonizing over what had happened in her life, the heartbreaks, the struggles. Though he was a caring man, he hadn't grieved for his son-in-law. He had only prayed for his daughter's peace of mind. "But now that I know you're going to be settling down with a man, a good, solid man, if I don't miss my mark, I can rest easy.

The early-morning breeze whispered through her hair. It was warm, almost balmy. What a difference a few weeks could make. "I'm not settling down with Dylan, Pop. It's not like that."

"But you just said—"

"I know what I said." She kicked a small stone out of her path and wished other obstacles could be dealt with as easily. "He won't stay, Pop. This isn't the life for him. And I can't go, because this is the life for me."

"I've never heard such a barrel of nonsense." She opened the barn door, and though it hadn't been his intention to actually go in, he was compelled to follow. He'd led his family over the country, crisscrossing, overlapping, circling. Shouldn't he be able to lead his Abby where she already wanted to go? "People in love make certain adjustments. Not sacrifices." Abby knew her father didn't believe in sacrifices. "Compromises and such, Abby. You didn't have that with the other…'' He wouldn't say Chuck's name. His throat simply closed over it. "That's because it takes two people to compromise. If one's doing all the adjusting, it's like a rubber band. It's either going to fly away or break."

She studied him. He wasn't a handsome man, but he was an engaging one, with his small, agile build and animated face. Often he played the clown, because bringing laughter was what he felt he'd been fashioned for. But he was no fool.

"You're very wise, Pop." Abby kissed him again and remembered all the times he'd been right there when she'd stumbled. "Dylan's nothing like Chuck. And I'm beginning to realize that I'm nothing like the woman who married that excitingly irresponsible man."

"Just how does this man feel about you?"

"I don't know." She hit the lights. "I guess I really don't want to because it would make the situation harder one way or the other. Now don't worry." She put both hands on his spindly shoulders. "I told you I was happy here just as I am. I'm not looking for a man to take care of me, Pop. I did that once before."

"And a poor job he did of it, too.''

She had to laugh and kiss him again. When Frank O'Hurley lost his temper, it was quite a scene. "He wasn't made to take care of me, Pop, and I just couldn't take care of him. You know very well that's not what marriage is about. It's a team, like you and Mom."

"Those two young boys need a man around."

"I know that." That was where the guilt ultimately came from. "I can't give them everything."

He cut himself off because he heard it in her voice, the faint regret, the obvious guilt. He took her hands and squeezed. "You've done a damn fine job with them. Anyone says different, they have to take on Frank O'Hurley."

She laughed, remembering a few brawls. He might be small, but her father enjoyed a tussle. "Why don't you help me feed the horses instead?"

He drew back a little, naturally cautious. "Well, I don't know about that, Abby girl, I'm a man of the city."

"Come on now, you'll want to see the foal."

She started to walk to the first stall when instinct had her looking into Gladys's. With quick moves, Abby was swinging open the stall door and going to the laboring horse.

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" Her father was practically skipping behind her. "Is it sick? Contagious?"

Abby had to laugh even as she checked the mare. "Having babies isn't a communicable disease, Pop. Go into the kitchen, look in my book and call the vet."

He let loose a string of Irish and American curses. "You need water? Hot water?"

"Just call the vet, Pop, and don't worry. I'm an old hand at this."

He scurried off, and didn't come back. Abby hadn't expected him to. He did send Dylan, though to Abby's surprise, Chantel poked her head in the stall behind him.

"Should we get ready to pass out cigars?"

"Soon enough. Did Pop call the vet?"

"I did." Dylan took his place beside her. "Frank ran into the kitchen demanding boiling water. I think your mother's calming him down. How's Gladys doing?"

"Pretty good." She glanced up at her sister. Chantel was as cool and polished as ever in buff-colored slacks and a silk blouse. "You're up early."

Chantel just shrugged, not bothering to mention that when your life revolved around 6:00 a.m. calls you got in the habit of rising early. "I couldn't miss all the excitement." Then, because her heart went out to the mare, female to female, she crouched down. "Anything I can do?"

"It's nearly done," Abby announced.

And so she and Dylan delivered their second foal, working together in a kind of unstated partnership that had Chanters eyes narrowing. Perhaps she'd misjudged him, she thought. But she wasn't accustomed to misjudging a man. Not any longer.

"What's going on?"

Rumpled from a night's sleep and dressed in overalls that swamped her, Maddy staggered in. "I'm supposed to bring a message to the front. It seems the vet's on call. His service is tracking him down, but it might be a while." She yawned hugely. "Pop's got water boiling on every burner. If the vet doesn't show up soon he's threatening to call the paramedics. You can't even get a cup of coffee in there."

"We're getting ready to knit four little pink bootees," Chantel told her. She brushed off the knees of her slacks as she rose.

"Would you look at that." Maddy focused her sleep-bleared eyes on the foal. "Hey, wait, don't anybody move. I've got to go get my camera. The guys in dance class won't believe it." She was off and running.

"Well, now that the excitement's over I think I'll just toddle inside and see if I can get Pop to give up some of his boiling water. I'm dying for coffee." Chantel sauntered off, trailing a tantalizing scent behind her.

"Your family's something," Dylan murmured.

"Yeah." Abby wiped sweat from her face with her shirtsleeve. "I know."

When Maddy suggested riding, Abby rearranged her schedule and saddled Judd. Dylan was working and her parents weren't interested, so it would be the three of them, as it so often had been in the past. She watched Maddy adjust a stirrup with breezy confidence before she turned to Chantel.

"Need some help?"

"Oh, I think I can manage." Chantel fastened the cinch on the little mare.

"I didn't think you rode at all." Cautious, Abby rechecked the saddle. "But Matilda here is gentle."

Chantel adjusted the collar of her blouse. "We'll just poke along."

Once outside, Maddy swung into the saddle with athletic ease. Chantel hesitated, fumbled and finally managed to mount the mare. Abby decided to keep Judd to a walk beside her sister. "We can go up this road. It runs along the east side of the property where we'll be planting hay in a couple of weeks."

"Planting hay." Chantel's mare stood soberly while she looked lazily around. "How rural of you."

Maddy chuckled. "Okay, Miss Hollywood, let's ride."

Chantel shifted down in the saddle. "Better, Miss New York, let's race." As Abby's mouth dropped open, Chantel pressed her heels to the mare's sides and lunged forward. Maddy started to shout a warning, then realized it wasn't necessary. Chantel was laughing and riding beautifully.

"Always full of surprises," Maddy said to Abby.

Abby skimmed her own heels over Judd. "What are we waiting for?"

For more than half a mile she rode free, easily matching Maddy's pace. It brought memories of childhood. Chantel had always been the leader then, as well. Even with the grueling schedules of trains and buses and one-night stands, they'd managed to fight and play like most children. Even prior to birth, they'd had each other. Nothing had changed that.

They pulled up, breathless and laughing, where Chantel waited at the top of the crest.

"Where'd you learn to ride like that?" Maddy demanded.

Chantel simply fluffed her hair. "Darling, just because you gulp vitamins and jog ten miles a day doesn't mean you're the only O'Hurley with any athletic ability." When Maddy snorted, she grinned. The Hollywood actress was gone, and Chantel was just a woman enjoying a joke. "I've just come off a Western, Wyoming circa 1870." She arched her back and rolled her eyes. "I swear I spent more time in the saddle than any cattle rustler. Lost a half inch off my hips."

Abby controlled Judd as he danced sideways. "It's not all flashy premieres and lunches at Ma Maison, is it?"

"No." Then she tossed her hair back and shrugged. "But you do what you do best, it you're smart. Isn't that what you're doing?"

Abby glanced around the land she'd fought so hard to keep. "Raising children and planting hay. Yes, I suppose it's what I do best."

"I can't say I envy you, but I do admire you." They began to walk the horses, Chantel in the middle, Abby to the left and Maddy to the right, in the same position they'd used before more audiences than they could have counted.

Maddy adjusted the stride of her horse to match her sisters'. "Do you remember that time in that little place just outside Memphis?"

"The place where all the customers drank straight bourbon and looked as though they could chew raw meat?" Abby shook her hair back and looked at the sky. "God, it's hard to believe we lived through that one."

"Lived through it," Chantel repeated, buffing her nails on her suede jacket. "Darling, we were a smash."

"Yeah, there were about six bottles smashed that night, as I recall."

Remembering made Maddy chuckle. "On opening night I pretend I'm about to play in Mitzie's Place outside Memphis. I tell myself whatever happens can't be as bad."

"What are you going to do when you get back?" Abby asked her. "Are you really leaving
Suzanna's Park?
It looks like it'll have a long run on Broadway."

"Over a year of dancing the same routines, saying the same words." Maddy clicked to her horse as he took an interest in the shrubbery on the side of the road. "I wanted something new, and as it turned out, there's a play in the works now. If they find an angel, we could be in rehearsals in a couple months. I'm a stripper."

"A what?" Chantel and Abby said in unison.

"A stripper. You know, bump, grind, take it off. The character's wonderful, a lady of free spirit and morals who meets the guy of her dreams and pretends she's a librarian. And no, I won't actually bare my full talent on stage. We want to bring in the family crowd, as well."

"What about you, Chantel? Taking a break?" Abby asked.

"Who could stand it? I'm going to start shooting a miniseries in about ten days. Did you read
Strangers?"

"God, yes, it was wonderful. I thought…" Maddy's words trailed off, and her eyes widened. "You're going to play Hailey. Oh, Chantel, what a wonderful part. Abby, did you read it?"

"No, I don't get a lot of time to read anymore." It was said simply, without malice."

"It's all about this—"

"Maddy." Chantel cut her off as they rode beside a big spreading elm. "Let's not give her the whole story line. You can watch it in the comfort of your own home in a few months, Abby."

It no longer surprised her that she could indeed snuggle on the living room sofa and watch her sister on television. "Somehow I never thought you'd do TV again," Abby commented.

"Neither did I, but the script was too good. Anyway, it might be interesting to go back." She rarely admitted she liked challenges. The image of glamour and ease had been too hard-won. "I haven't worked the small screen since my sensuous-shampoo and brighter-than-white-toothpaste ads." They were far enough away from the house now, and Abby seemed relaxed. Chantel and Maddy exchanged a glance. Agreement needed no words.

"What about you, Abby?" Chantel tugged on the reins and skirted around easily to put Abby in the middle. "What's the story with you and Crosby?"