Heaven, Texas (27 page)

“Are you actually defending him? A man who's going to single-handedly destroy this town?”

“Maybe if everyone in Telarosa didn't treat him so badly, he wouldn't want to leave.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Are you sure it's Mr. Sawyer who's bothering you? You were close to your father. Are you certain you wouldn't feel this way no matter who your mother had begun to see?”

“That's enough! I don't care to hear another word out of you. Just shut up about this, you hear?”

Everything inside her went still. “Don't talk to me like that.”

He lowered his voice, speaking quietly and with absolute conviction. “I'll talk to you any way I want.”

Gracie was furious. She'd promised herself she'd love him with all her heart, but handing over her soul hadn't been part of the deal. She deliberately turned her back on him and walked away.

He followed her into the living room. “Just where do you think you're going?”

“I'm going to bed.” She snatched up her purse from the coffee table.

“Fine. I'll be in with you when I'm ready.”

She nearly choked. “Do you really think I want to sleep with you right now?” She headed toward the back door and her apartment.

“Don't you dare walk out of here!”

“This is going to be hard for you to understand, Bobby Tom, so listen very carefully.” She stopped walking. “Despite what everybody's been telling you from the moment you were born, you're not always irresistible.”

Bobby Tom stood at the back window and watched her stalk across the yard, although why he gave a damn whether or not she made it to her apartment safely, he didn't know. She'd stepped way over the line tonight, and if he hadn't let her understand straight out that he wasn't going to put up with it, he'd never have another moment's peace with her.

As she entered her apartment, he turned away from the window, resentment churning inside him. The phone started ringing again, his answering machine clicked on, and Gracie's voice invited the caller to leave a message.

“Bobby Tom, this is Odette Downey. Would you mind doin' me a big favor and seein' if you could get hold of Dolly Parton and ask her if she'd donate one of her wigs to our celebrity auction? We know people'd bid big on that wig, and—”

He pulled the telephone from the wall and threw it across the office.

Gracie knew how much he cared about his mother! She had to understand the emotions that had gone through him this afternoon when he'd seen her walking down those stairs with Way Sawyer. He grabbed a cigar from the humidor he kept on top of his desk, bit off the end, and spit it into the ashtray. He still didn't know which bothered him the most, the fact that his mom was seeing Sawyer or the fact that she hadn't told him about it. His chest tightened. After the way she'd loved his dad, how could she let Sawyer near her?

Once again, he turned his anger onto Gracie. All his life he'd played sports, and the idea of being loyal to your teammates was as much a part of him as his name. Gracie, on the other hand, had proved tonight that she didn't know the meaning of the word.

He snapped off the heads of two matches before he finally got his cigar lit. As he took short, angry puffs, he decided this was exactly what he deserved for letting her worm her way into his life. He'd known from the beginning how dictatorial she was, but he'd still kept her around and let her slither under his skin like a damn little chigger. Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to sit here all night and brood about it. Instead, he intended to settle down and get some work done.

Clamping the cigar in the corner of his mouth, he picked up a pile of papers and gazed down at the top sheet, but he might as well have been staring at Chinese. The house felt cold and silent without her. He set the cigar in the ashtray, then tapped the edges of the papers and moved them closer to the center of the desk. As the quiet of the empty house tightened around him, he realized how accustomed he'd become to having her around. He liked hearing the murmur of her voice coming from another room as she returned his calls or phoned one of the old people at that nursing home in New Grundy. He liked the way he'd sometimes wander into the living room and find her curled up in one of the ruffly chairs by the window reading a book. He even enjoyed sneaking around behind her back to pour out that awful coffee she made and fix a fresh pot without her knowing it.

Abandoning the papers in front of him, he rose and went into the bedroom, but as soon as he stepped inside, he knew it was a mistake. The room held her scent, that elusive fragrance that sometimes reminded him of spring flowers and other times made him think of summer afternoons and ripe peaches. Gracie seemed to be part of all the seasons. The warm glints of autumn shone in her hair, the clear light of winter sun sparkled in those intelligent gray eyes. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't a U.S.D.A. prime-cut female because lately he'd had a tendency to forget. It was just  .  .  .

She was so damned cute.

He saw a scrap of blue lace lying on the carpet next to the side of the bed where she'd slept last night and leaned over to pick it up. A jolt of heat shot straight to his groin as he recognized her panties. He crushed the wisp of fabric in his fist and fought the urge to charge across the yard into her apartment, strip her naked, and bury himself inside her, right where he belonged.

With the novelty of initiating a virgin worn off, he should be starting to lose interest in the sexual side of their relationship, but he kept thinking up new things he wanted to show her, plus he hadn't nearly got tired of practicing all the old stuff. He loved the way she clung to him and those soft little sounds she made; he loved her curiosity and her energy, how he could embarrass her without half trying and, dammit, how she sometimes embarrassed him with her insatiable nosiness about his body.

He didn't exactly understand it, but there was something about the way she felt when he was inside her that seemed exactly right, not just to his cock, but to all of him. He thought of the flocks of women he'd dated and gone to bed with. None of them had felt exactly like Gracie.

Gracie felt right.

Sometimes she did this funny little thing after they'd finished making love. He'd be holding her against his chest, sort of dozing off and feeling peaceful all the way down to his toenails, and she'd make this little
X
right over his heart with her fingertip. Just this little
X
. Right over his heart.

He was pretty certain Gracie figured she was in love with him. It wasn't unusual. He was accustomed to women falling in love with him, and with a few memorable exceptions, he'd learned to stay honest without breaking their hearts. The thing he appreciated about Gracie was that she understood she wasn't really his kind of woman, and she had enough sense to accept it without making a big fuss. Gracie might create scenes about things that weren't any of her business, like she'd done tonight, but she'd never make a scene about how she loved him and expected him to love her back because she was realistic enough to know it wouldn't ever happen.

Perversely, her acceptance now irritated him. He shoved his cigar back in the corner of his mouth, jammed his hands on his hips, and stalked into the kitchen if a woman wanted a man, she should fight for him instead of giving up without a struggle. Dammit, if she loved him, why didn't she work a little harder at not being such an aggravation?
Show me how to please you,
that's what she'd said. She could damn well please him by giving him a little loyalty and understanding, by agreeing with him once in a while instead of arguing all the time, by being naked in his bed right now instead of tucked away over that damn garage.

As his mood grew blacker, he added more grievances against her to his invisible checklist, including the fact that she was turning into a damned flirt. It hadn't slipped his notice how many of the men on the crew made excuses to hang around her, and as far as he was concerned, it was her fault more than theirs. She didn't have to smile at them like they were irresistible or listen to what they were saying as if every word coming out of their mouths was scripture. He brushed over the fact that she was a naturally good listener. As far as he was concerned, an engaged woman should be more reserved when she was around other men.

He grabbed the milk carton from the refrigerator and took a swig. Considering the fact that he was responsible for her make-over, he supposed he couldn't entirely blame her for the way the men watched her when she wasn't looking, but it still riled him. He'd even been forced to exchange a few words with a couple of guys last week—nothing too obvious because he didn't want anybody to get the wrong idea and think he was jealous—just a friendly little reminder that Gracie was his fiancée, not some cheap little sex toy they had a snowball's chance in hell of dragging off to their motel rooms.

He shoved the milk back into the refrigerator, then stomped through the house nursing his grievances and feeling ill-used. Suddenly, he came up short. What was he doing? He was Bobby Tom Denton, for chrissake! Why was he letting her get to him like this? He was the one who held all the aces.

That reminder should have calmed him down, but it didn't. Somehow or another, her good opinion had become important to him, maybe because she knew him a lot better than anybody else he could think of off the top of his head. That realization left him with a sense of vulnerability that was suddenly unbearable. Jabbing out his cigar in a china ashtray, he made up his mind exactly how he was going to handle her. For the next few days, he'd be cordial, but cool. He'd give her time to think about how badly she'd behaved and where her true loyalty belonged. Then, once she understood who held the power in their relationship, he'd take her back.

His mind spun ahead. They'd be leaving for L.A. right after Heavenfest to finish shooting the interiors on a sound-stage there, and once they got away from this crazy town, she'd settle down. But what was going to happen when the movie was done and she no longer had a job? From the way she kept in touch with the old people she'd left behind and the fact that she'd adopted a whole new bunch at Arbor Hills, he was starting to believe that nursing homes might be in her blood, just as football was in his. What if she decided to go back to New Grundy?

The idea unsettled him. He trusted her more than any assistant who'd ever worked for him, and he had no intention of letting her go. He'd simply make her an offer she couldn't refuse, and she could come to work for him full-time. Once she was officially on his payroll with a generous salary, all these foolish money arguments between them would be a thing of the past. He mulled over the idea. It was bound to get sticky between them when he got tired of the physical side of their relationship. Still, he was fairly certain he could ease her out of his bed without destroying the friendship that had come to mean so much to him.

He examined his plan for flaws, but found none. After all, handling any woman, even one like Gracie, was pretty much a matter of staying on top of the situation, and he congratulated himself on his ability to do exactly that. Before he knew it, he'd have her right back where he wanted her, snuggled up against him in his bed, making a little
X
right over his heart.

“W
here do you think we should put the key chains, Gracie?”

Gracie had just finished unwrapping the last of the white china souvenir ashtrays shaped like the state of Texas. They had a pink Cupid marking the location of Telarosa and a red script legend that read:

H
EAVEN
, T
EXAS

A P
LACE IN THE
H
EART

The question about the key chains had come from Toolee Chandler, the chairman of the Bobby Tom Denton Birthplace Committee and the wife of the town's busiest dentist. Toolee stood at the counter of what was now a small gift shop, but had once been Suzy and Hoyt Denton's sun porch. The transformation of Bobby Tom's childhood home into a tourist attraction wasn't yet complete, although Heavenfest was only three weeks away.

Suzy and 'Hoyt had disposed of many of the house's original furnishings years ago when they'd moved, but the committee had scoured basements and secondhand stores for pieces that were similar, and sometimes even managed to come up with the original one. Much of the house was decorated in the avocado green and gold popular at the time, but Suzy had used bright accents of apple red, unconventional then, and they gave the house a definite charm even now.

Even taking on the responsibility of handling the travel and accommodations arrangements for the celebrity athletes left Gracie with too many free hours. Since she and Bobby Tom had quarreled nearly three weeks ago, she had spent most of her evenings at Arbor Hills or working here to help Terry Jo and Toolee get the birthplace ready.

Now she eyed the key chains dubiously. Like so many other things in the gift shop, they bore Bobby Tom's likeness, even though he hadn't given permission for its use. A fluorescent orange plastic disk showed him in action: feet off the ground, body curved in a graceful C, arms extended to catch a pass. But the blue-and-white uniform of Dallas had been badly superimposed over his Chicago Stars uniform, along with the brightly printed words, “He should have been a Cowboy.”

“Maybe you could hang them behind the postcard rack?” Gracie suggested.

“Oh, I don't think so,” Toolee said. “Nobody'll be able to see them there.”

That had been Gracie's hope. She wished Bobby Tom would put a stop to this unlicensed merchandise, but she wasn't going to broach the subject when there was already so much tension between them. They spoke politely, and when other people were nearby, he'd slip his arm around her waist for show, but they spent very little time alone together, and every night they retired to their separate bedrooms.

As Gracie carried a stack of ashtrays over to the shelves and began to arrange them, Terry Jo came in from the living room with a pencil stuck behind her ear and a clipboard in her hand. “Has anybody found that missing box of mugs?”

“Not yet,” Toolee replied.

“I probably stuck them someplace crazy. I swear, ever since Way Sawyer announced he wasn't closing Rosatech, I've been so distracted I haven't been able to think straight.”

“Luther's making him honorary chairman of the whole festival,” Toolee declared, as if they hadn't already discussed this fact several times. Way Sawyer's announcement had left everyone in town giddy with relief, and he had gone from being Telarosa's enemy to its hero.

“Things are finally looking up for this town.” Terry Jo smiled and gazed around at the glass shelves that stretched across the windows. A display of refrigerator magnets directly in front of her bore the legend, “I raised a little hell in Heaven, Texas!” “I remember the summer Mr. Denton built this sun porch. Bobby Tom and I used to play checkers out here and Suzy'd bring us grape Kool-Aid.” She sighed. “Having this house restored has been like a trip back to my childhood. Suzy says she feels as if she loses twenty years every time she walks in the door, but I think it's hard on her coming here because Mr. Denton's not around to share it. I don't know. She hasn't seemed like herself lately.”

Gracie was also worried about Suzy. Every time she'd seen her since that afternoon in San Antonio, she looked more fragile. As she set the last of the ashtrays on the shelf, she decided this might be a good time to broach an idea that she'd just that day mentioned to Suzy.

“It's a shame the house will be empty so much of the time.

“There's not much we can do about it,” Toolee said. “Tourists'll only come around on the weekends and for special events, like Heavenfest.”

“Still, it's a pity to keep it closed up the rest of the time, especially when it could be used to help people.”

“What do you mean?”

“I've noticed that Telarosa doesn't have a senior citizens center. This house isn't large, but there's a rec room and the living room's comfortable. I was thinking that it would be an ideal place for the older people to get together for cards or crafts or to hear an outside speaker once in a while. Arbor Hills isn't far away. They're really cramped for space over there, and maybe they could transport their more mobile residents here for activities a few times a week.”

Toolee splayed her hand on her hip. “Now why didn't I think of that?”

“It's a good idea,” Terry Jo agreed. “I'm sure we could find some volunteers to staff it. Why don't we start a committee? I'll phone my mother-in-law as soon as I get home.”

Gracie breathed a sigh of relief. The film company would be finished here in a few weeks, and it made her feel better to know that she might leave some small mark on this town she had grown to love and would miss so very much.

Several hours later, Bobby Tom stopped his pickup in front of the house where he'd grown up. His T-bird was the only car left in the drive, so he knew Gracie was still there, but the rest of the volunteers must have left for the day to fix dinner for their families. As he looked at the small white bungalow, he had the eerie feeling that time had stopped and he was a kid again. He almost expected to see his dad walking out of the garage with the old red Toro lawn mower, and he blinked his eyes hard. God, he missed his father.

Loneliness curled through him. He felt cut off from everybody important in his life. He and his mother hadn't done anything more than exchange courtesies since the incident in San Antonio three weeks earlier, and he could barely stand to admit to himself how much he missed Gracie. Not that he didn't see her during the day when they were shooting, but it wasn't the same. She treated him as if he were nothing more than her employer, doing whatever he asked and then disappearing, If anybody had told him he'd grow to miss the way she tried to order him around, he would have said they were crazy, but he couldn't deny the fact that she was leaving a hole in his life.

Still, he'd had to let her know who was boss, and since he was pretty sure she'd gotten the point by now, it was time for the two of them to have a showdown. He intended to tell her in no uncertain terms that the deep freeze was over. She could be damned stubborn, but once he got her to stop talking and start kissing, everything would be all right again. By midnight, she'd be right back in his bed, where she belonged.

As he stepped down from his truck, Suzy pulled into the drive behind him. She gave him a small wave as she got out of her car, then headed around to the rear and opened the trunk. He wandered over as she was about to remove a large cardboard box.

“What's this?”

“Your old trophies from grade school through high school.”

He took the box from her. “You didn't carry this down from the attic by yourself, did you?”

“I made several trips.”

“You should have called me.

She shrugged. He saw the shadows under her eyes and noted the faint pallor to her complexion. His mother took such good care of herself that he'd never thought of her as getting older, but this afternoon, she looked every one of her fifty-two years and then some. She also looked deeply unhappy, and he felt guilty knowing that he might very well be the cause of those dark shadows. Gracie's words came back, making him feel even worse. She'd tried to tell him that his mom needed his support, but he hadn't listened.

He shifted the carton under his arm and cleared his throat. “Sorry I haven't been able to spend more time with you lately. We've been working about twelve hours a day, and, well, I've been busy,” he finished lamely.

She couldn't seem to look him in the eye. “I know why you haven't come by the house, and I'm the one who's sorry.” Her voice trembled slightly. “It's my fault. I know it is.

“I'm not going to see him again. I promise you.”

A crushing sense of relief swept over him. Despite the fact that Way Sawyer was the town's new hero, there was something about the man that Bobby Tom disliked. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I'm glad.”

“It was— It's hard to explain.”

“You don't have to. We'll just forget about it.”

“Yes. That would probably be best.”

Linking his free arm through hers, he drew her toward the house. “How 'bout I take you and Gracie to dinner tonight? We could go to O'Leary's.”

“Thanks, but I have a board meeting.”

“You look tired. Maybe you should take it a little easier.”

“I'm fine. I just stayed up too late last night reading.” She walked ahead of him up the concrete steps that led to the small landing. Her hand reached out automatically to turn the knob, but the door was locked. He started to reach around her for the bell only to have his arm freeze in midair as she began frantically twisting the knob.

''Dammit!”

“It's locked,” he said, alarmed by her behavior.

“Answer me!” She pounded her fist against the door, her face crumpling with despair. “Answer me, dammit!”

“Mom?” Apprehension spread through him. He quickly set the box of trophies down.

“Why doesn't he answer?” she cried, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. “Why isn't he here for me?”

“Mom?” He tried to pull her into his arms, but she struggled against him. “Mom, it's okay.”

“I want my husband!”

“I know you do. I know.” He caught her against him. Her shoulders were heaving, and he didn't know how to help her. He'd thought the pain she'd experienced from his father's death had eased over the years, but her grief seemed as fresh as the day of his funeral.

Gracie opened the door in response to the pounding, but her smile faded as she saw Suzy's condition. “What's wrong? What's happened?”

“I'm going to take her home,” he said.

“No!” Suzy drew away and dashed at her tears with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry. I—I apologize to you both. I don't know what came over me, and I'm so embarrassed.”

“There isn't any need to be embarrassed. I'm your son.”

Gracie stepped out onto the porch. “Coming here has to dredge up all sorts of painful emotions for you. You wouldn't be human if you didn't react.”

“Still, that's no excuse.” She gave them both a weak, unconvincing smile. “I'm all right now—really, I am—but I don't think I'll come inside.” She gestured toward the box. “Would you mind putting those trophies on the shelf in the bedroom for me? Bobby Tom can show you where they go.”

“Of course,” Gracie replied.

He took his mother's arm. “I'm going to drive you home.”

“No!” She backed abruptly away, and to his alarm, she began crying again. “No, you're not! I want to be alone. I just want everybody to leave me alone!” Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she fled to her car.

Bobby Tom's eyes found Gracie's, and he regarded her helplessly. “I have to make sure she gets there safely. I'll be back.”

Gracie nodded.

He followed his mother home, feeling shaken to the core by what had just happened. He realized how accustomed he was to thinking of Suzy as merely his mother, not as a human being with a life of her own, and he was ashamed. Why hadn't he listened to Gracie? Tomorrow he would have the talk with his mother he should have had weeks ago.

He watched her from the curb until she got safely inside, then headed back to the small, white bungalow where he'd grown up. Gracie had left the door unlocked and he found her upstairs in his childhood bedroom. She sat on the edge of the twin bed staring into space with the box of his old trophies at her feet. Seeing Gracie in this room from his past surrounded by so many items from his boyhood sent an eerie prickle along his spine.

The desk in the corner didn't look much like the one he remembered, but the green gooseneck lamp still held the remnants of the Titans decal he'd stuck to the base so long ago. A peg rack displayed his collection of baseball caps, and his old Evel Knievel poster hung on the wall. Why had his mom held on to that thing? His father had put up the shelving around the window to hold his trophies. The beanbag chair was a duplicate of the original, but the gold bedspread didn't look at all like the plaid one he'd grown up with.

Gracie lifted her head. “Did she get home all right?”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

He wandered over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and gazed out at the yard. “I can't believe how big the trees have grown. Everything else seems so much smaller now than it used to.”

Gracie didn't know why she should feel discouraged by his unwillingness to talk to her; she should have been used to it by now. But she knew the scene with his mother had distressed him and wished they could discuss it. She got up from the side of the bed and knelt on the carpet to begin removing the old trophies from their newspaper wrapping.

His boots entered her vision as he came to a stop next to her, then sat down on the bed in the spot she had just vacated. “I don't know what happened. One minute we were talking, and the next minute she was pounding on the front door and crying because my father wasn't there to answer it.”

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “I feel so sorry for her.”

“What could be wrong?”

When she didn't say anything, he regarded her accusingly. “You think this has something to do with Sawyer and what happened at the restaurant, don't you? You're blaming this on me.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You don't have to. I can read your mind.”

“You love your mother. I know you wouldn't deliberately hurt her.”

“This doesn't have anything to do with Sawyer; I'm sure of it. She told me she's not going to see him anymore.”

Gracie nodded, but made no comment. As much concern as she felt for them both, they'd have to work this out for themselves.

She watched as he gazed around his old bedroom and wasn't surprised when he switched the subject away from Way Sawyer and his mother.