Heaven, Texas (28 page)

“This whole birthplace thing gives me the creeps. I don't know why people think anybody's going to waste time wandering through this place to see my old football trophies. I guess you know that I'm not happy about your association with it.”

“Somebody had to watch out for your interests. You should see the key chains they're selling in the gift shop. They show you wearing a Cowboys' uniform.”

“I never wore a Cowboys' uniform in my life.”

“The magic of modern photography. The best I could do was get them moved to the back corner, but I had a little better luck with an idea that hit me a few weeks ago.”

“What's that?”

“The town really needs a senior citizens center, and this afternoon I talked to Terry Jo and Toolee about using the house that way. I'd already spoken to Suzy and she agreed that it would be an ideal spot.”

“A senior citizens center?” He thought it over. “I like that.”

“Enough to come up with the cash to put in a wheelchair ramp and fix up the toilet facilities?”

“Sure.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that Gracie felt perfectly free to ask him for money for others, but still insisted on giving him part of her weekly paycheck, even though the money remained untouched in his desk drawer. She was proud of the fact that, by scrimping on her personal expenses, she would have the black cocktail dress he'd bought her paid off in time to wear it to the welcoming party at the country club the night before the golf tournament.

He got up from the side of the bed and began to pace across the end of the room. “Look, Gracie, I know I might have come on a little strong that night we had our argument, but you've got to understand Way Sawyer is a sensitive subject with me.”

She was surprised he'd reopened the subject. “I do understand that.”

“Still, I guess I shouldn't have taken my bad mood out on you. You were right about the fact that I need to talk to my mother; I realize that now. I'm going to do it as soon as I can get away tomorrow.”

“Good.” She was grateful that the estrangement between them finally seemed to be over.

“I guess you've been right about a lot of things.” Once again he walked over to the window and stared down into the back yard. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I miss football a lot, Gracie.”

She grew instantly more alert. This was hardly an earthshaking revelation to anyone who knew him, but the fact that Bobby Tom was actually admitting it astonished her. “I know you do.”

“It's not fucking
fair
!” As he spun around, his features contorted with emotion. He was so agitated, he didn't even seem to realize he'd used an obscenity in front of her, something he seldom did with a woman. “One bad hit and I'm out of the game forever! One bad fucking hit! If Jamal had caught me two seconds earlier or two seconds later, it wouldn't have happened.”

She thought of the videotape and knew she'd never forget the sight of his gracefully extended body taking that damaging tackle.

He regarded her angrily, one hand clenched into a fist at his side. “I had three or four good years left. I was going to use that time to make plans for my retirement, to think about whether I wanted to coach or go into the broadcasting booth. I needed that time to get ready.”

“You're a quick study,” she said softly. “You can still do those things.”

“But I don't want to!” The words erupted from him, and she had the uncanny sense that they surprised him far more than they did her. His voice dropped until it was nearly a whisper. “Don't you understand? I want to play ball.”

She nodded. She did understand.

His lips twisted in an ugly sneer. “I don't know how you can stand to sit there and listen to me without wanting to throw up. Pretty pathetic, isn't it, a grown man who's got the whole world at his feet whining just because life handed him one bad break? I've got all the money in the world; I've got friends, houses, cars, but here I am feeling sorry for myself because I can't play ball. If I were you, I'd be laughing half to death right now. If I were you, I'd head right over to the Wagon Wheel and tell everybody how Bobby Tom Denton's been carrying on like a jerk so they can laugh, too.”

“It doesn't seem funny to me.”

“Well, it should.” He gave a scornful snort. “You want to hear something really pitiful? I don't have the slightest idea who I am anymore. For as long as I can remember, I've been a football player, and now it seems I don't know how to be anything else.”

She spoke softly. “I think you could be anything you set your mind to.”

“You don't understand! If I can't play ball, I don't want to be part of the game. I can't work up any enthusiasm for coaching, no matter how hard I try, and I sure as hell don't want to sit up in some air-conditioned broadcasting booth making wisecracks for the folks at home.”

“You've got a lot more talents than just those.”

“I'm a ball player, Gracie! That's what I've always been. That's who I am.”

“Right now you're an actor. What about your film career?”

“It's all right. I wouldn't even mind making another movie sometime, but no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I know my heart isn't in it. It seems like play instead of work. And I keep thinking there's nothing more pathetic in this world than a washed-up jock trying to be a movie star because he can't do anything else.”

“I met you after your career was over, so I don't think of you as a jock, washed-up or otherwise. And it's hard to think of you as a movie star. To be honest, I've always regarded you more as a businessman than anything else. You obviously have a talent for making money, and you seem to enjoy doing it.”

“I do enjoy it, but there's no honor in it for me. Maybe some people can be happy making money just for the sake of keeping score, but I'm not one of them. Life's got to be about something more than buying bigger toys. I own too many things as it is. I don't need another house, I don't want another plane, and buying a few cars here and there doesn't do much more than eat up my petty cash.”

Under other circumstances, his indignation might have made her smile, but he was too troubled for her to be amused. She thought of the times she'd walked into his office and seen him talking on the phone with his boots propped up on the desk and his Stetson pushed to the back of his head as he discussed the wisdom of investing in a new bond issue or buying pork bellies on the commodities market.

She rose from the floor and walked over to stand beside him. “The fact is, Bobby Tom, you love making money, and there are lots of honorable things you could do with it other than buy bigger toys, as you put it. I know how much you care about children. Instead of letting women threaten you with paternity suits, why don't you do something more far-reaching for kids without fathers. Set up scholarship funds or day-care centers; open some food pantries. Or how about upgrading the medical equipment in the pediatric wing of the county hospital you like to visit? There's a whole world of need out there, and you're in a unique position to help. Football's given you a lot. Maybe it's pay-back time.”

He stared at her, not saying a word.

“I've had an idea. I don't know how you'll feel about it, but  .  .  . Why don't you think about setting up a charitable foundation? You could make money for the foundation instead of yourself?” When he didn't respond, she continued. “I'm talking about running it as a full-time job, not a rich man's toy, using your talent for something that will make a difference in people's lives.”

“That's crazy.”

“Just think about it.”

“I already have, and it's crazy, the craziest thing you've ever come up with. I'm not some stuffed shirt do-gooder. If I tried to do something like that, people'd laugh so hard they'd be rolling on the floor.” He was so taken aback, he was practically sputtering, and she couldn't help but smile.

“I don't think people would be surprised at all. It's completely in character for you.” She turned her attention back to unpacking the trophies. She'd planted the seeds, but the rest was up to him.

He sat down on the side of the bed and watched her work for several minutes. When he finally spoke, it was obvious by the glitter in his eyes that he had something other than talking about the future on his mind. “I swear, Gracie, you've aggravated me so much you almost took my mind off how cute your bottom looks in those jeans.” He removed his cowboy hat and patted the mattress. “Come here, sweetheart.”

“I don't know if I like that look on your face.” In truth, she liked it very much. Being alone with him in the small room made her realize how long it had been since they'd made love.

“I promise you'll like it a lot. If you knew how much time I used to spend in this very bedroom dreaming about gettin' a girl naked in here, you wouldn't even think of denying me.”

“Did you ever?” She moved over to stand in front of him.

He caught the backs of her thighs and drew her between his splayed knees. “Get one naked?” He opened the snap at the top of her jeans and leaned forward to nibble at her belly button. “  'Fraid not. Mom kept a pretty strict eye out.” His lips moved lower, along with the slide on her zipper. “When I was in ninth grade, I almost got a mutual friend of ours up here, but I guess mothers have some kind of built-in radar about that sort of thing because next thing I knew, Suzy was popping up with a plate of Oreos.”

“So you were restricted to backseats and parking by the river.” She was beginning to sound breathless.

“That was pretty much it.” He reached up under the hem of her patchwork print blouse and cupped her breasts through her bra. Her breathing grew more labored as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, playing with the silk and her flesh until' she could feel herself melting.

“Uhmm,” he whispered. “You smell like peaches again.”

Before long they were both undressed and making such sweet love on that narrow bed that all thoughts of the future evaporated. When it was over and Gracie lay boneless and spent on top of him, with his hand curled around her bottom, she finally opened her eyes far enough to see the satisfied smile on his face.

“It took me a lot of years to get a female naked in here, but it was worth every minute of the wait.”

She nuzzled his neck and felt the soft abrasion of his beard against her temple. “Am I better than Terry Jo?”

His voice was husky as he rolled to the side and cupped her breast. “Terry Jo was just a child, sweetheart. You're a woman full grown. There's no comparison.”

She heard a sound from below, and her head shot up as she realized the bedroom door was open. A sense of foreboding shot through her. “You locked the front door when you came back in, didn't you?”

“I don't think so.”

No sooner had he spoken than the unmistakable voice of Mayor Luther Baines echoed from the bottom of the stairs. “Bobby Tom? You up there?”

With a gasp, Gracie leaped to her feet and grabbed for her clothes. Bobby Tom yawned, then swung his legs over the side of the bed in a leisurely fashion. “You'd better not come any farther, Luther. Gracie s naked up here.”

“For real?”

“She looks naked to me.”

Gracie could feel herself turning four shades of crimson, and she shot him a malevolent glare. He grinned back at her.

“Why don't you wait for us in the kitchen,” he called out. “We'll be down in a few minutes.”

“Sure enough,” the mayor replied. “And, Gracie, Mrs. Baines heard about your plan for the senior citizens center from Terry Jo. She said she'd be happy to help set up a volunteer group.”

Gracie's cheeks flamed as she riffled through her purse for tissues. “Be sure to thank her for me, Mayor Baines,” she said weakly.

“Oh, you can thank her yourself. She's standing right here next to me.”

Gracie froze.

“Hello, Gracie,” Mrs. Baines called out gaily. “Hi, Bobby Tom.”

Bobby Tom's grin grew wider. “Howdy, Mrs. Baines. Anybody else down there?”

“Just Pastor Frank from First Baptist,” the Mayor's wife replied.

Gracie let out a small squeal of alarm.

Bobby Tom ruffled her hair and gave a low chuckle. “They're teasin', sweetheart.”

“Mrs. Frank and I think the senior citizen center is a wonderful idea, Miss Snow.” The stairwell filled with the deep sounds of a voice that was unmistakably pastoral. “First Baptist will be happy to help with your project.”

With a moan, Gracie collapsed on the side of the bed, while Bobby Tom started laughing so hard she finally had to hit him with a pillow.

Afterward, she could never quite remember how she managed to get herself dressed and go downstairs to face Telarosa's leading citizens. Bobby Tom told her she behaved like Queen Elizabeth, except with more dignity, but she didn't know whether or not to believe him.

T
he Friday morning of the birthplace dedication was crisp and bright with the clear light of early October. School had been dismissed for the day to celebrate the opening of Heavenfest, and the small front lawn was crowded with the young and old. Everyone in town had been asked to dress in period costume for the weekend. Many of the men had grown beards and mustaches, while the women's long skirts flapped in the breeze. Teenagers congregated around the parked cars on the streets, their concession to frontier dress limited, like Bobby Tom's, to jeans and cowboy hats.

“.  .  . and so on this beautiful October morning, we gather here in the shade of these old pecan trees to honor  .  .  .”

As Luther droned on, Bobby Tom studied the crowd from his vantage point on the small platform that had been built in front of the garage. His mother sat on one side of him and Gracie on the other. Grade had protested at being seated with the dignitaries, but he'd insisted. She looked cute as a button in a long yellow gingham dress, old-fashioned straw bonnet, and very modern sunglasses.

The Heavenfest committee had originally planned to have the dedication on Friday night, but Bobby Tom refused. The athletes playing in tomorrow's golf tournament would begin arriving around noon today, and he wanted the whole embarrassment over with before any of them got to Telarosa, although he had to admit he didn't feel quite as negative about the birthplace project since Gracie had come up with the idea of turning the house into a senior citizens center. She was, he'd decided, about the do-goodingest woman he'd ever known.

As Luther droned on, Bobby Tom's gaze drifted to his mother. He wished he knew what was wrong with her. In the past ten days, he'd tried to talk to her several times about what had happened, but she'd deflected every conversation by showing him new plants in her garden or cruise brochures from her travel agent.

Luther waved his arms and shouted into the microphone as he worked up to his big finish. “And now I present to you the leading citizen of Heaven, Texas! A man with two Super Bowl rings  .  .  . a man who has given himself unselfishly to this town, the great state of Texas, and these United States of America! The greatest wide receiver in the history of professional football  .  .  . our favorite son  .  .  .
Bobby Tom Demon
!”

Bobby Tom ambled to his feet to the cheers of the crowd and approached the podium, resisting the urge to break Luther's fingers as he shook his hand. The microphone squealed, but it didn't bother him. He'd been making speeches in front of these people since he was in high school, and he knew exactly what to say.

“It sure is good to be back home again!”

Loud applause and whistles.

“Why, half the people I see standing here today helped my mama and daddy raise me, and don't you think I've forgotten it.”

More cheers.

He continued with his speech, making it short enough so he didn't bore himself to death, but long enough to satisfy the people he cared so much about. When he was done, he handed his mother the scissors to cut the ribbon stretched across the front door. To more applause, the Bobby Tom Denton Birthplace and future Senior Citizens Center was officially dedicated.

As his mother turned away to greet her friends, he looped his arm around Gracie's shoulders. Between her Heavenfest activities and his brutal shooting schedule, they hadn't been able to spend nearly as much time together as he would have liked. Sometimes, lately, he'd found himself not enjoying a joke just because she wasn't around to share it. One thing about Gracie—She understood the humor of everyday life in ways other people didn't.

He cocked his head so he could whisper in her ear. “What do you say the two of us sneak off for a couple of hours and mess around?”

She gazed up at him with genuine regret, another thing he liked about her. She never tried to hide her pleasure in their physical relationship or hold anything back. “I only wish we could, but you know you have to get back to the set. They're already giving you tomorrow off. Besides, I need to run over to the hotel and stuff all the welcome packets for your friends. Remember that you have to be at the country club by six tonight so you can greet everybody privately.”

He sighed. She didn't know it yet, but when this movie was over, the two of them were going to spend a few days naked on a secluded island where there weren't any telephones and nobody spoke English.

“All right, sweetheart. But I don't like the idea of you driving yourself to the club tonight. I'm going to ask Buddy to pick you up.”

“Please don't. I'm not sure what I'm going to run into this afternoon, and it'll be better if we take two cars.”

He reluctantly agreed and set off to return to work.

As Gracie watched him leave, the sunlight seemed to shimmer around him and she could almost see the pin-wheels of silver sparks spinning from those invisible spurs he always seemed to wear. The film company would be leaving Telarosa for Los Angeles soon, and Willow had said nothing about taking her along. Gracie couldn't believe it would end so soon.

Over the last few days, she had found herself playing with the intoxicating notion that Bobby Tom might be falling in love with her, and her cheeks flushed as she made her way back to the car. Even though she tried to tell herself that sort of thinking was dangerous, she couldn't quite shake it off. How could he gaze at her so tenderly if he didn't care? He was so open in his affection, so passionate in his lovemaking. Surely he couldn't have been like this with all the women in his past? Surely he felt something special for her?

Sometimes she'd look up from what she was doing and find him watching her as if she were important to him. That was when she'd start thinking about the future and envisioning roly-poly babies and a house filled with the sound of his laughter. Was it impossible? Could he be beginning to feel the same way about her that she felt about him? Her skin felt hot and prickly just thinking about it. Was it possible that the future might hold more for her than memories?

For the rest of the day, she threw herself into her work to avoid daydreaming. She'd no sooner gotten the welcome packets ready for the hostesses to pass out at the Cattleman's Hotel than a crisis over the seating plans broke out at the country club. As she raced over there, she passed beneath one of the welcoming banners that hung over Main Street. Like everything else in town from bumper stickers to T-shirts, it read
HEAVEN, TEXAS! A PLACE IN THE HEART
.

She spent most of the afternoon at the country club, straightening out problems with the arrangement of the tables. When she was done, it was nearly five o'clock, and she realized she hadn't picked up her paycheck. Since she had exactly four dollars left in her wallet, she made a mad dash back to Windmill's suite on the top floor of the hotel, hoping to get there before the woman who took care of the payroll had left.

To her disappointment, Willow was locking the door as she stepped off the elevator. Gracie hurried forward. “I'm sorry to be so late, but it's been a crazy day. Would you mind letting me get my paycheck?”

Willow shrugged and opened the door. “I guess not.”

Gracie followed her inside. Even though she tried to be as helpful to Willow as she could, their relationship had continued to be strained, and Gracie suspected it was because Willow had planned to launch her own affair with Bobby Tom. She didn't want to think how angry the producer would be if she discovered that the engagement was bogus.

“I know you can't be crazy about me spending so much time away from the set, but you told me I'm supposed to be taking my orders from Bobby Tom, and he wants me to tend to these organizational details for the golf tournament.”

“It's fine, Gracie. Whatever.”

Willow was a tough taskmaster, and Gracie couldn't imagine her being so lenient with anyone else. Now, while they were alone, seemed as good a time as any to broach the subject of the future. “I've been wondering what your plans are for me.”

“Plans?”

“For L.A. Whether you want me to go there or not.”

“I guess you should ask Bobby Tom.” She began riffling through one of the portable files on top of the credenza. “I heard a couple of the Lakers have arrived for the golf tournament. I've followed the team for years, and I hope I get a chance to meet them at the dinner tonight.”

“I'm sure Bobby Tom will by happy to introduce you.” She hesitated, picking her words carefully. “Willow, I don't want my personal relationship with Bobby Tom to influence my professional future. Regardless of who I take my orders from, you're my employer, and I guess I'd feel better if I knew what you have in mind.”

“I'm sorry, Gracie, but I can't tell you any more right now.” She seemed to be having difficulty finding the check, and she started through the file again, only to pause. “Oh, that's right. Your check is processed separately.”

A small chill crept through Gracie as she watched Willow move over to the desk, open the center drawer, and pull out a long envelope.

Her voice had a faintly hollow sound. “Why is that? Why is my check handled differently from anyone else's?”

Willow hesitated a fraction too long. “Who knows why bookkeeping does things?”

“You do,” she forced out. “You're the producer.”

“Look, Gracie, maybe you'd better talk to Bobby Tom about this. I'm really rushed for time.” She thrust the check into Gracie's stiff fingers.

Gracie's felt something cold trickle down her spine, and she could barely find enough air to speak as a terrible certainty took hold of her. “Bobby Tom has been paying my salary all along, hasn't he? He's my employer, not Windmill.”

Willow picked up her purse and walked to the door. “I really don't want to get involved in this.”

“You already are.”

“Look, Gracie, one thing you learn fast if you want to survive in this business is not to piss off the star. Do you. understand what I'm trying to say?”

Gracie understood too much. Bobby Tom had been paying her salary all along, and he'd told Willow to keep it a secret.

Her knees were rubbery as she followed Willow from the suite. She felt as if something fragile had shattered inside her. This was a betrayal she had never expected. As the elevator descended, all her daydreams evaporated. This had been so important to her. So essential. Just this morning, she had tantalized herself with the notion that he might love her, but now she knew he didn't see her any differently from all the other parasites who preyed on him.

She left the hotel and made her way numbly to her car. All along, she hadn't been anything more to him than another one of his charity cases. She couldn't hold back the tears. She was beholden to him for everything: the roof over her head, her food, every purchase she made from shampoo to Tampax. She cringed as she thought how proud she had felt when she'd left money in his desk drawer to pay her rent and reimburse him for the cocktail dress. How he must have laughed as he watched money he'd given her in the first place returned to him. Having private jokes at her expense seemed to be a specialty of his.

She clutched the steering wheel more tightly, but she couldn't stop the flow of tears. Why hadn't she figured it out earlier? He didn't love her at all. He'd felt sorry for her, so he'd created a job for her out of pity in the same way he set up trust funds for children who weren't his and wrote out checks to friends down on their luck. There had never been enough work to keep her busy, and she couldn't even take any satisfaction in feeling as if she'd earned the money. He'd known all along that he didn't need a full-time employee, but he hadn't wanted her firing on his conscience. Bobby Tom liked playing God.

She stared blindly ahead. By not telling her the truth from the beginning, he had deceived her in a way she could never forgive. She had explained to him how imperative it was for her to pay her own way. He knew it! But that hadn't mattered to him because she didn't matter to him. If he'd cared for her, he wouldn't have stripped her of that dignity.
I'm not going to take anything from you, Bobby Tom. I only want to give.
What a joke. What an awful, painful joke.

Some men fought tuxedos, but Bobby Tom looked as if he'd been born in one. He'd added his own touches, of course: a pleated lavender shirt with diamond studs, black Stetson, and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots he wore only with formal dress. The limestone clubhouse had been polished from the locker room to the dining room for the biggest event in its history. Ticket sales for tomorrow's tournament had exceeded everyone's expectations, and even the weatherman had cooperated by promising a sunny day, with temperatures in the low seventies.

The athletes were just beginning to arrive for the pre-dinner cocktail party when one of the waiters whispered to Bobby Tom that someone wanted to see him downstairs. As he made his way across the lobby, he glanced toward the entrance with some irritation. Where was Gracie? He'd expected her to be here by now. A lot of the guys were going to get a big kick out of her, and he wanted to start introducing her around. Gracie was the most sports-ignorant female he'd ever met, and he knew her tack of knowledge was sure to get her into trouble tonight, providing him with an entire evening's worth of amusement. He still didn't quite understand how her ignorance of sports sometimes seemed to be one of her best assets.

He headed down the carpeted stairs to the lower level, where the locker rooms were vacant for the night. The glass door that led into the empty pro shop should have been locked, but it stood ajar, and he stepped inside. Only a single light burned over the counter, and he didn't see the man who stood in the far corner of the room until Way Sawyer came forward.

“Denton.”

Bobby Tom had known he was going to have to confront Sawyer soon, but he wouldn't have chosen tonight to do it. Stilt, he'd seen Sawyer's name on the guest list, so it wasn't a real surprise, and he had no intention of backing away. For some reason this man was connected with his mother's sadness, and he wanted to know why.

Sawyer had been inspecting one of the oversize drivers on display, and as he stepped forward he held it loosely across his body. His formal dress didn't disguise how haggard he looked, as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep for some time. Bobby Tom struggled to control his antipathy. Despite Sawyer's announcement about Rosatech, he would never like this man. He was a cold, hard-hearted son of a bitch who'd cheat his own grandmother if he saw the need.

He pushed aside the fleeting impression that right now Sawyer looked more tired than ruthless.

“What can I do for you?” he said coldly.

“I want to talk to you about your mother.”