Heaven, Texas (11 page)

Gracie's pride bristled at the idea that she was simply another in the long line of women who'd embarrassed themselves over Bobby Tom, but she couldn't deny the truth. “Has he always had such a strong effect on women?”

“He's had a strong effect on almost everybody.” Suzy withdrew a spading fork from the green plastic garden caddy next to her knees and began to loosen the soil around the edge of her herb garden. “In a lot of ways, life has come easily to Bobby Tom. From childhood on, he was the best athlete, and he's always been an excellent student.”

Gracie inwardly winced, remembering her offer to help him learn to read. Suzy crushed a sprig of lavender in her fingers and brought it to her nose to breathe in the scent. Grade assumed she wasn't going to say any more and was surprised when she brushed off her hands and went on.

“He was popular with the other children. Boys liked him because he didn't try to bully them. And even in elementary school, the girls made excuses to come to the house. He hated it, of course, especially in fourth grade, when they really made his life miserable. They'd send him love notes and follow him around on the playground. The other boys teased him unmercifully.”

Her hands grew still on the spading fork, and she spoke in a slow, measured manner, as if she were having difficulty choosing her words. “One day Terry Jo Driscoll—she's Terry Jo Baines, now—chalked a big red heart in the driveway with 'Bobby Tom loves Terry Jo' written next to it. She was drawing flowers all around it just as he was coming up the sidewalk with three of his friends. When Bobby Tom saw what she was doing, he flew right across the front yard and tackled her.”

Gracie didn't know much about nine-year-old boys, but she could imagine how embarrassing that must have been for him.

Suzy renewed her attack on a clump of weeds growing near the basil plants. “If the other boys hadn't been watching that would probably have been the end of it. But by this time they'd seen what she'd written and all of them were laughing. She started laughing, too, and telling them that Bobby Tom wanted to kiss her. He lost his temper and punched her in the arm.”

“I suppose that's an understandable reaction for a nine-year-old.”

“Not as far as his father was concerned. Hoyt heard the commotion and reached the front door just in time to see Bobby Tom hit her. He took off outside like a rocket, hauled Bobby Tom up by the scruff of his neck, and walloped him right there in front of all his friends. Bobby Tom was humiliated; his friends were embarrassed. It was the only time Hoyt every spanked him, but my husband didn't believe a man could sink any lower than hitting a woman, and he refused to make allowances for the fact that his son was only nine at the time.”

She leaned back on her heels, looking troubled. “Bobby Tom and his father were very close, and he never forgot that lesson. This might sound foolish, but sometimes I think he learned it too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have no idea how many women have thrown themselves at him over the years. But even so, I've never heard him be impolite to a single one of them. Not to any of the football groupies, the married women, the parasites, the gold diggers. As far as I know, he's managed to keep his distance without ever uttering an impolite word. Doesn't that seem strange to you?”

“He's developed a lot more sophisticated strategies than simple rudeness for getting around women.” Gracie wondered if Suzy knew about the football quiz.

“Exactly. And it's become so automatic over the years that I'm not sure he realizes how thick the barrier he's built around himself has grown.”

Gracie thought about that. “He's incredible. He smiles at women, flatters them outrageously, tells them exactly what they want to hear. He makes every one of them feel like a queen. Then he does exactly what he wants.”

Suzy nodded, her expression unhappy. “Now I think Hoyt would have been smarter to have looked the other way when Bobby Tom socked Terry Jo. At least it was a straightforward statement of his feelings, and he was never a cruel child, so he wouldn't have made a habit of it. Goodness knows, Terry Jo recovered. She was his first serious girlfriend.” Her mouth tightened in a grim smile. “The irony is that when I mentioned the incident to him not long ago, he said that his father did exactly the right thing. He doesn't seem to have any idea what it might have cost him.”

Gracie wasn't certain it had cost him anything. Bobby Tom possessed an abundance of charm, talent, good looks, and intelligence. Was it any wonder he'd grown an ego to match? He didn't believe there was a female on the planet who was good enough for him. Certainly not a thirty-year-old from New Grundy, Ohio, with small breasts and bad hair.

Suzy slipped the spading fork back into the green plastic caddy and stood. For a moment she gazed around at the pleasant garden. The scent of basil, lavender, and freshly turned earth filled the air. “I love working out here. It's the only place where I feel peaceful.” She looked embarrassed, as if she'd just made a deeply personal statement and wished she hadn't.

“I know it's not any of my business, Gracie, but I don't think you should let what happened stand in the way of taking this job.” She picked up her garden caddy. “You told me you didn't want to go back to Ohio, and you don't have another offer. Bobby Tom's used to women losing their heads over him; I'm certain last night held a lot more significance for you than it did for him.” With a reassuring smile, Suzy disappeared inside.

Gracie knew Suzy was trying to comfort her, but the words hurt, especially because she knew they were true. She meant nothing to Bobby Tom, while he meant everything to her. She had lost her head over him, and even more shattering, she was very much afraid she had lost her heart.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the knowledge that she didn't want to face, but it was no use. She never lied to herself, and she couldn't do it now. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she faced the fact that, in the past week, she had fallen in love with Bobby Tom Denton. She had fallen deeply and hopelessly in love with a man who was so far beyond her reach it would have been comical if it weren't so very sad. Those deadly wine coolers had merely brought out the truth of what had taken place inside her the moment she had set eyes on him.

She ached for him. He was wild and reckless, larger than life, everything she couldn't be herself, and she loved him with all the passion that had lain fallow inside her for so many years. Like a molting bird beguiled by a sleek and powerful swan, she was compelled by his physical beauty. At the same time, his self-confidence and his effortless charm made her feel giddy and young again.

She felt as if she'd lived a lifetime in these past six days, and, drawing her knees closer to her chest, she forced herself to face the harsh truth. Her dreams of a glamorous career in Hollywood were just that, impractical dreams spun out of desperation, as far removed from the reality of her life as outer space. She had been playing a game with herself, one she could no longer afford, and now she confronted the painful reality that no magical life existed for her in Hollywood. This silly job with Windmill wasn't going to lead to an exciting career. That had been a fantasy. Instead, when this was over, she would go back to New Grundy and back to the nursing home. It was where she belonged.

Admitting the truth brought her a queer sense of peace. It wasn't the nursing home that had been wrong with her life, she now realized; it had been her life that was wrong with her life. She'd loved running the nursing home, but she'd used her job to isolate herself from people her own age because she'd always felt like such an oddity. She'd hidden out in the nursing home, made it her entire life instead of merely her career.

As the peaceful scents of the garden stole over her, she felt a peculiar excitement. She was only thirty years old, still young enough to make changes. But not in the way she'd imagined. Not by running away. Instead, she was going to begin to live every moment of her life without fear. She would stop trying to protect herself from being laughed at or rejected—those things wouldn't kill her—and she was going to begin by letting herself love Bobby Tom with every fiber of her being.

Her heart began to race. Did she have the courage? When this was over, she would have to go back to the nursing home—she forced herself to accept that. But in the meantime  .  .  . Did she have the guts to throw herself off the top of a mountain knowing that the landing might very well kill her? Did she have the nerve to grasp this unbearably short period of time when she would be with him and live every precious second of it?

A rush of exhilaration exploded inside her as she made up her mind. She was going to take the job as his personal assistant and savor every moment of the time she spent with this star-kissed man her heart had chosen so unwisely to love. She would file away every look he gave her, every smile, every gesture. She would abandon caution and give herself to him, as much of her as be would accept. Maybe he would make love to her. Probably not. But either way, she was going to give herself to him without condition, knowing that when it was over, the best she could hope for was a treasure house of memories.

She made promises to herself. This fierce love she felt for him wouldn't keep her from seeing him clearly, the good and the bad, his monstrous ego and too soft heart, his keen intelligence and dangerously manipulative charm. Her love wouldn't let her compromise her principles either. She only knew how to be herself, and even though that wouldn't be enough for him, it was all she had.

She closed her eyes and saw him in her mind, a cosmic cowboy with his big Stetson and killer grin, a man who scattered stardust when he walked. That stardust had fallen on her, giving new life to her parched body and waking up her shriveled heart.

She knew there would be no happily-ever-after for her with Bobby Tom Denton, and while her heart soared, her head needed to stay firmly anchored in reality. He wasn't going to love her in return. Extraordinary men were meant for extraordinary women, and she was hopelessly ordinary. The only way she could come out of this emotionally intact was by never forgetting that she had fallen in love with a man who was as much legend as human. Her sense of honor wouldn't allow, her to take anything from him the way everybody else did. She would give herself to him out of the fullness of her heart, not with the hope of receiving anything in return. And when it was over, this man who had been kissed by the gods would at least be able to remember that Gracie Snow was the one person in his life who had never taken anything from him.

An hour later, still queasy from making such a shattering decision, Gracie approached the brown-and-gray motor home that had been assigned to Bobby Tom. Between the incident last night, her hangover, and her newfound self-knowledge, she was going to have a difficult time facing him, but it had to be done. Before she could mount the steps, however, the door of the neighboring motor home opened and Natalie Brooks stepped out.

Gracie observed the descent of the leggy brunette actress who was being touted as the “new Julia Roberts,” and her spirits sank even lower as she remembered all the love scenes Bobby Tom would be doing with this glorious creature. Gracie took in her trademark dark brown mane of hair, tamed now into a youthful ponytail that didn't detract one bit from her beauty. Despite the fact that her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, the twenty-four-year-old actress was breathtaking. Her features were bold: heavy dark brows, tilted green eyes, a wide, generous mouth, and even white teeth. She wore her wrinkled brown shorts and an equally wrinkled pink polo shirt as if they were designer originals.

“Hi.” She gave Gracie a friendly smile and extended her hand. “I'm Natalie Brooks.”

“Gracie Snow.” She winced slightly from the sudden movement as she returned the firm handshake. “I've enjoyed your pictures so much, Miss Brooks. I'm a real fan.”

“Call me Natalie. Elvis is sleeping now, so we have some time to talk.” She gestured toward a pair of folding aluminum chairs set up in the shade of the trailer.

Gracie had no idea who Elvis was, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to chat with a celebrity like Natalie Brooks, especially when it gave her a good excuse to postpone her encounter with Bobby Tom. After they were settled, Natalie said, “I know from Anton that your references are impeccable, and my husband and I appreciate you flying in on such short notice. We're determined to have only the best for Elvis.”

Even though Gracie couldn't imagine what she was talking about, she found the actress's desperate earnestness rather endearing.

“The first thing I need to tell you is that Anton and I don't believe in schedules. Elvis is on demand feeding, so as soon as he starts to fuss, I want you to bring him to me. He's to receive no supplements of any kind. Anton and I want him to have the immunities that only breast milk can provide. We're also worried because we have allergies in the family—Anton has a first cousin who's highly allergic—so Elvis isn't receiving anything but breast milk for his first six months. You are supportive of breast-feeding, aren't you?”

“Oh, yes.” More than once Gracie had imagined herself with a baby at her breast, and the vision always filled her with a poignancy so sharp that it was almost painful. “But isn't six months a long time for a baby not to have anything else? I thought they needed cereal.”

Natalie looked as if Gracie had suggested she feed the baby arsenic. “Not at all! Breast milk alone is the perfect food for the first six months of a baby's life. I should have made Anton cover all this with you. It's so hard— He has a business in L.A., you see, and this is our first separation. He'll be flying in on weekends, but it's still going to be difficult.”

Gracie decided it was a poor reflection on her character that she found being mistaken for a nanny less flattering than being mistaken for a stripper. “I'm sorry, Natalie. I should have interrupted right away, but I was so fascinated by what you were saying that I got distracted. I do that sometimes. As it happens, I'm not your nanny.”

“You're not?”