Mason's Daughter (10 page)

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” I say. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I can’t ignore an assault on an officer of the law, especially in front of all these witnesses. Bring Colton to the station tomorrow.”

“You want him to come there?”

When he nods, my words hiss like steam from a broken pipe. “I can’t believe you’re so insensitive. You know he’s having problems. Grieving out of control. How can you make such a demand? After everything he’s gone through, I expected you to be more understanding.” All our passion is cast aside, not to mention his kindness.

Mike turns and walks away.

No way can my father pay anyone enough to fix this damage.

CHAPTER TEN

With Colton taking a timeout to stay overnight with Angelique, my house seems roomier than usual the next morning. I wander through the silent spaces and wish Mondays didn’t trouble me. The whole week looms ahead like a flat, empty highway. Nothing I do makes much noise, and even if it did, there’s no one to hear me.

The truth about a watched pot also applies to the telephone. I linger in my kitchen and wonder why Judith hasn’t called to commiserate with me over last night’s debacle. When the phone finally rings, the caller brings a welcome surprise, a chance to revive my passion for landscaping and earn some money.

“Yes, I can start right away.” I grab a pencil. “What did you have in mind?”

The man rattles off a short list of commercial properties that need new designs and plantings. When I suggest a bid with preliminary sketches, he claims the board of directors will be happy to review my proposal and grant a decent allowance.

I ask him to name the properties specifically and jot them down, along with the addresses. “Are there sprinkler systems already in place?”

“If not, you can install them, can’t you? Just add it to your estimate.”

At the bottom of my note pad, I write his name and the property management company address. “I’ll need to get measurements, but I still require some rough idea of a budget. No one likes unexpected expenses, and you’ll have to sign the work order.”

“Okay, put together a list and a timeline, and after our meeting I’ll send you a purchase order.”

We thank each other and hang up. I skim my notes again and tap my foot at the prospect of the thousands of dollars in gross billing, right in time for the next quarterly tax payment. Tapping gives way to gliding around my kitchen island, as I hum “Laughter in the Rain.” For the first time in months, I really do feel like laughing out loud.

The euphoria lasts a few moments longer, until I remember I have to take Colton to Mike’s office. How could I have been so rude to Mike? Resolving the events of last night will take more than apologies.

We stretch Mike Avery’s patience too thin, my family and I. How many times has he smoothed over Colton’s difficulties? What else did Nate Wallace ask of him?

Mike probably believes Jack really did commit suicide, but at least he agreed to take another look at the circumstances. Whether he includes Skipper in his inquiry remains to be seen.

Although Colton embarrassed me, I can’t blame Mike for his reaction. He isn’t the type to let emotions change his mind, but maybe by the time we arrive at the police station he’ll have regained his empathy and cut us both some slack. I just wonder what Mike said to Colton to set him off like that. Of course, he doesn’t know my son as well as I do, so I should cut Mike some slack, too.

My thoughts stall as I sit down, and I break my inertia by dialing Angelique’s number. Two rings, and she answers.

“How’s Colton?” I ask.

“Still in bed.” She flicks a lighter. “Why don’t you come over now? There’s something I want to share with you.”

“What can you tell me about Colton I don’t already know?” She enjoys his frequent company, but he hasn’t spent time at her house or taken art lessons from her like I did when I was his age.

“Not him.”

ON RARE OCCASIONS
I find Angelique dressed in her work clothes. In tight denim jeans, she looks sexy as ever, and the tails of a white oxford cloth shirt tied under her bust reveal a flat torso a woman of any age would envy.

Evidently she has been rearranging paintings in her studio all morning. She lifts a large portrait and angles it toward the light from the clerestory window. “Remember this one?”

In oils, she captured the colorful image of a young woman by a wooden gate, with a country lane behind her and a floral meadow across the slatted fence. The breeze billows her long blonde hair and the coral ribbons of the straw hat she holds at her side.

“How could I forget?”

“You haven’t changed much at all.”

“Aren’t we sentimental today?” I zigzag my way through several easels until I stand next to her. “How old was I when you painted that?”

“Eighteen, maybe? Had to be before you married Jack.”

“Everything has changed since then.” I turn away from the canvas. “I can’t look that far back now.”

“It might be a good idea to take a short walk down memory lane.” She waves me to the chair under the skylight where her models, including myself, usually sit. “Colton is upstairs, sound asleep.” She settles sideways on the settee cushions and wraps one leg underneath, while spreading her arms across the back. She might be Queen Sheba awaiting a royal visit from Solomon. “You know I’ve always claimed you as the daughter I never had.”

“So you’re going to tell me something I need to work on?” Has anyone loved me for as long as Angelique? One by one, the others who truly cared for me–Grandma Mason, Mrs. Gussmann, Clyde Farraday–all disappeared from my young life.

“I hate how much you suffered during the past year, but I thought maybe time would work its magic and things would get better.”

“They’re getting worse lately, especially for Colton.”

“He seems to be one frightened boy.”

I cock my head to one side, as if I didn’t hear correctly. “What is he afraid of?”

“Something you might do.”

“Did he tell you that?”

She shakes her head.

I jump to my feet and stride toward the window. “I’m his mother. I’m
not
scary.”

“We both know from experience the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Please hear me out.” Angelique follows me, takes me by the arm, and leads me to sit again. “How did you react when your father moved to the ranch?”

When Nate made decisions that altered my life, I learned the hard way I had to fight.

I couldn’t concentrate on my studies for all the squealing in the hallway of the Tri Delt house. One of my sorority sisters just surprised us with news of her engagement, and the celebration launched at our Monday night meeting showed no signs of abating. By tradition, the president kept the secret until she passed a candle around our circle and the lucky girl blew it out.

Two weeks until midterms, and I had a bear for a chemistry professor. So far, she liked me well enough, and I intended to ace the exam and maintain my ‘A’ average this whole sophomore year. But hydrocarbons weren’t nearly as exciting as two-carat solitaires, and I’d rather have joined the fun.

As I stretched for perhaps the fifth time, I decided the
UT
Academic Center would make a better place to study. If I sat away from the entrance, I’d avoid any distractions, especially Jack. His study habits were almost non-existent, and I refused to let him disrupt mine with his fraternity party spirit. He could wait until Saturday night to try to get me in the mood for a keg social prior to the football game.

Before I had a chance to pile up my books and notes, my phone rang. My father was calling about Thanksgiving, to let me know where we’d been invited this time. Since my mother died four years ago, we hadn’t spent a single holiday at home. Quite often, the Cromwells graciously included us, except for last November when we traveled to London. Not a roasted turkey to be found in the whole damp country.

“What’s up, Daddy?”

“I thought you’d like to know,” he began. “I’ve bought a ranch.”

“Really.” I couldn’t get enthusiastic about remote acres devoted to the tending and feeding of livestock. Besides, my father bought and sold properties all the time, and I’d never paid much attention. “Where?”

“West Texas, mostly in Pecos County. Between Fort Stockton and Alpine.”

“Sounds like it’s near nowhere.”

“It seemed to be a good idea.” He mentioned mineral rights, productivity estimates, and an airstrip.

Good for whom, I wondered. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.” I yawned.

“That’s why I’m calling.”

“Good grief, are you going to suggest we spend Thanksgiving
there
? Why can’t we just stay home this year? We can order all our meals catered.” My father and I were still learning to get along without Mrs. Gussmann, who retired last summer after knee surgery. From climbing too many stairs, she claimed.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going out there in a few days and I have a lot of business to keep me busy for a while.”

“How long?”

He didn’t give me a direct answer, and my patience slipped away. “I’ll just stay home. Mason’s Crossing is barely awake these days, but if I get bored, I’ll find something else to do.” If I visited friends in San Antonio or Austin, he wouldn’t even be concerned.

“We have to make other arrangements. You’ll like the ranch.”

He didn’t sound angry, but I matched the frosty edge in his tone. “You can’t force me to come out to Fort Pecos, or wherever your new ranch is.” I clamped my jaw, hoping he heard stubbornness in my voice. “I won’t go.”

“You can’t stay in Mason’s Crossing.”

“Why not? I’m almost twenty.” If I sounded ungrateful, I didn’t care. Responsibility for myself made me that way. “It’s a big house, but I can manage.”

“I sold the house.”

The floor might as well have collapsed. I clutched at the wall to keep from tumbling and slipping down what felt like a rocky ledge.

My father was a demon, tearing my life apart piece by piece, year after year. I waited until my voice returned, determined not to submit to his control the way my mother did. He tried to convince me the realtor’s offer was too good to pass up, but I wasn’t listening.

“You go to the ranch by yourself.” I clenched my teeth. “I’ll make my own arrangements.” Without waiting for his reply, I hung up. I tasted bile in my throat, but I tamped it down and picked up the phone again. I dialed Jack’s number. “Hey, is that offer still good?”

He wanted to know which one.

“Come pick me up and I’ll tell you.”

Always ready for distraction, Jack agreed to drive over immediately.

I would say yes and tell him I want three carats, not two. My dorm room seemed sweltering and cramped, barely space for one, not two. My stomach heaved, and I vomited that evening’s meal of King Ranch Chicken Casserole into the trashcan.

I stare at Angelique. “How could he leave me at college with nothing to come home to? Where did he think girls in my sorority went during school holidays?”

“Probably to the Riviera or somewhere else in Europe.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “He had no experience with females that age, except your mother. And we both know how that turned out.”

“My point exactly.”

“He didn’t act very fatherly, did he?” She coughs and struggles to regain her voice. “But the important point is how your relationship with him changed.”

“Nothing changed. He
never
loved me.”

“Maybe not the way you needed, but he tried. And failed. Because of his mistakes, you cut him out of your life completely.” Angelique enumerates the other people I axed, starting with my husband. “For you, who can possibly measure up?”

I protest that my sense of loyalty isn’t on a par with others. If people, even family members, demonstrate they lack faithfulness, then I have a hard time seeing them as worthy.

“Now bring Colton into the picture,” she says. “He keeps messing up.”

“I wish I knew why his accidents are getting more serious.”

“Can you see how he might be frightened you will shut him out?”

I shake my head. “He’s my
son
.”

“And Nate’s your father.” She lights a cigarette. “If you can see it through Colton’s eyes, it’s not that complicated. What’s to stop you from treating him the same way?”

As I argue that my son knows I love him, my tongue feels thick, and I can’t seem to swallow.

She leans forward and chops her palm with the edge of her other hand, ignoring the ashes that fall to the floor. “You’ve perfected the art of disconnection. Colton needs to be reassured of your capacity to love, no matter what. Show him you can reconcile with your father. Call Nate and talk to him.”

Angelique’s paintings grow watery as tears prick the edges of my eyelids. I blink several times and gaze at the high ceiling. After a moment, I look at her. “No.”