Promises to Keep (15 page)

Ruth felt much calmer as she walked toward the private ICU rooms. She knew what she had to do, for herself and for Ronald. First and foremost on her agenda was to swallow her own bubbling hysteria, which would serve no purpose but to make her seem weak and ineffectual. She was now the head of the Quincy Legacy. It was time she acted the part.

Stepping into Ronald’s room, she saw Travis standing by the bed, holding his father’s hand. Fury threatened to choke her as she remembered the misery her son had caused her, but she tamped it down. Now wasn’t the time or place.

“Travis.” She watched her son’s shoulders tense before he turned to face her. Tears stood in his eyes, ready to overflow. His face was pale, his clothing rumpled. Ruth clasped her hands together at her waist and waited for him to acknowledge her.

Aside from a brief nod in her direction, Travis ignored her. He angled away from her and leaned over the bed, still clasping Ronald’s hand. “Dad, can you hear me?”

“Travis, I wish to know where you’ve been. You should have arrived here hours ago. Your father needed you.” Ruth wasn’t above using guilt when it served her purpose.

“Dad, it’s Travis. I’m here. Can you squeeze my hand?” All of Travis’s attention was on his father, and Ruth felt the fury gather, dispelling her newfound calm. She fisted her hands together until her nails bit into her palms.

Despite her efforts at self-control, her shrill voice rang in the room. “Travis, he can’t hear you, he’s a vegetable! He’s dying. Your father is leaving us.”

His head jerked back and he sent her a hateful glance. “
Shut up
. Just shut your mouth.” He took a few steps toward her and growled, “I know this is your fault. You were yelling at Dad when I left the house. He wasn’t supposed to have any stress. No tension. Why couldn’t you have just left him alone?”

Refusing to let him see how his words cut her, Ruth glanced at Ronald, who lay still as a stone in the bed surrounded by machines, their tubes snaking all over him. Her gaze swung back to Travis, so tall and handsome, a perfect balance of her and Ronald.

The boy received everything in the world as his due: privileges, advantages. Obviously such bounty had spoiled him. Though he might not accept it, Travis needed her. She had to believe it was never too late to reestablish necessary boundaries, instill discipline.

A few steps brought her closer to her son’s side, but his forbidding expression kept her from touching him, as she strove to assert authority and reason. “Travis, listen to me. It’s true your father and I argued after you left this morning. But the stroke could have happened at any time.” She gestured with both hands, stretched them out in entreaty. “We must work together to help your father. He’ll need constant care once he comes home. You must put away your childish thoughts now, and begin the maturing process I know you are more than capable of.”

Travis didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled a chair close to the bed and sat in it, all of his attention on Ronald. After a few minutes, she sighed and walked toward the open door. A restorative cup of tea might be in order. She’d have a nurse fetch her one.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone at the nurses’ station. Frustrated, she went searching, prepared to chastise the first nurse she saw for deserting her post when she was needed—

And she ran right into Annie Turner, standing in the middle of the wide corridor next to the nurses’ station.

Incensed, Ruth spat, “
You
. How dare you come here?” She marched forward as Annie retreated a few steps, then escaped to the waiting room. Ruth followed, determined to remove her forcibly from the area if necessary, and came face to face with Henry Turner. Behind him stood a woman, her arms wrapped protectively around the girl.

Ruth paled, but held her ground, and when she spoke, her voice remained satisfyingly firm and steady. “Kindly take your daughter from here, Mr. Turner. There is no place for her at my son’s side.” This was her turf now. She had the upper hand here. It made no difference that she controlled a hospital waiting room and not Quincy Hall.

His wife spoke up. “We came to offer our help, Mrs. Quincy. If you or Travis need anything, then you have only to ask.”

Ruth gave her the most cursory of glances and once again addressed Henry Turner. “Your family’s presence here is disruptive. Please don’t force me to call for Security, Mr. Turner, for I can assure you—”

“Mother.” One firm word came from Travis as he stood in the doorway of his father’s room. In that single word she heard a strength so akin to Ronald’s. When he walked to Annie and took her in his arms, it was all Ruth could do not to reach out and strangle her for her usurping presence.
It should be Catherine, here with Travis and offering comfort
.

Ruth’s entire body stiffened when Travis bent and kissed the girl on her mouth, and then reached out and hugged the Turner woman. Hugged her, as if she were of importance! Ruth clenched her teeth, determined to bear the outrage without screaming in frustration. They’d leave soon, these accursed Turners, and then she’d deal with her son. Ruth held onto that thought.

Travis returned the tray and left the cafeteria. The hamburger he’d forced himself to eat sat like a lump in his stomach. He’d choked down less than half of it. But the food had given him an excuse to get away from his mother. He’d needed the reprieve more than the meal.

He wished she’d go back to Quincy Hall. He dreaded having to spend any more time with her. Disheartened and depressed, Travis returned to his father’s room. All he wanted was to be alone with his dad, talk to him some more and hope he’d either wake up or respond with a squeeze of his hand.

His mother rose from her seat by the bed when he walked in, but Travis ignored her and crossed to the other side of the bed. When she sat and looked over at her husband, the man she supposedly loved above all others, Travis couldn’t see any emotion on her face. No marriage was perfect, but he’d always figured they at least loved each other. Now, he wondered just how much love his mother was capable of feeling, for anyone.

She turned toward him and quietly stated, “He’s going to require a great deal of care. Nurses around the clock. I’ll have to hire at least two more to relieve Phoebe. The doctor recommends a nursing home, but of course that’s out of the question. A Quincy cannot live away from Quincy Hall. It’s unacceptable.”

When he didn’t respond, she sighed and made a show of straightening the blanket over his dad’s legs. “I intend to assume responsibility of the legacy holdings as soon as I obtain Power of Attorney. Until you are of an age and educational level to step into your rightful place as heir apparent, key board members will assist me.” She fussed with one of the pillows, the image of a loving wife, but her eyes were chilly when she looked up from her ministrations. “You will return to Yale as soon as possible, begin spring semester, and remain through the summer.”

It was a direct order, and Travis bristled in silent protest as she added, “I expect you to complete as many extra classes as possible. The sooner you complete them, the sooner you will graduate. You will then take your place at my side, with the board relinquishing all Quincy holdings and duties as deemed appropriate to your balance of maturity and readiness.”

Travis’s consternation, as she outlined his immediate future so coldly and emotionlessly, spun into blind fury. Under her thumb through college as well as after graduation when his life should, by all rights, finally be his own? He didn’t think so. And in the tension-thick room, unspoken between them, was the ever present specter of Catherine Cabot. His mother didn’t have to say her name. Travis sensed her there, unwelcome. Unwanted by him, but as always pushed to the forefront.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t live like this.

He faced her with stronger resolve. “No, Mother. I won’t go back early or take classes through the summer. And I won’t be put under your thumb. Dad wouldn’t want it that way.” He released his father’s hand and stepped back from the bed, standing tall. “I’ll stay on my present schedule. I’m sure the board will do a fine job with the family holdings—”

“You will
not
disobey me, Travis.” Soft and frigid, the words stabbed at him. “Trust me when I say this. You don’t want to show me your rebellious nature right now. You will do exactly as I say, when I say it. Or so help me, I will make you regret every instance of disrespect you have ever shown me.” Her eyes narrowed on him with relentless intent. “Starting with your precious Annie.”

“I wish I could go see him. When does he get to come home?”

“Another week. Mother has to make the final arrangements for the extra shift of nurses. Dad needs someone with him around the clock, and it’s a sure bet Mother won’t spend much time with him.” His voice held enough bitterness for her to notice, but she wisely hadn’t commented. So much animosity lay between Travis and his mama, and Annie didn’t know how to help other than just being there for him.

They still had the optimism of youth and such a strong basis of love, however, all tipping the balance toward them and their future. They kissed and touched, then kissed and touched some more, until with a groan of need, Travis pulled Annie onto his lap, both of them cramped and bent in the compact BMW.

He undressed her with eager fingers, enough to reach her skin, and likewise, she unzipped and unbuttoned his clothes, until bare, shivery flesh could meet and meld together. They moved against each other, held on with such urgency, and Annie had cried out in his arms as she experienced for the first time the kind of pleasure that made intimacy so magical.

Words, as usual, weren’t necessary between them. With their bodies they said everything vital, everything important.

He drove her home, parked on her street and kissed her over and over. When he finally let go, Annie floated through her front door secure in the knowledge that her life with Travis was just beginning, and nobody could ever take it from her. She fell asleep that night with her hand curled around the ring on her finger as wonderful dreams filled her head.

It was pointless to dwell on that night. She’d only get upset, and right now she needed to think with a clear head. Hurrying through her chores, Annie carted the pot of stew over to the stove and turned the gas on low. She’d probably forgotten half the correct spices, but in her present state of mind, it was a wonder she could recall her own name.

He’ll be here soon
. She sank down on the nearest chair and pressed a hand to her heart. It pounded hard and fast beneath her fingers. Everything felt wrong, upside-down. She pushed the heavy hair out of her face and reached for whatever composure she could find within herself. No more tears, and no excuses. She’d be firm with him. Grown-up. And she’d get the answers she needed to explain his behavior.

After Travis left for Yale, Annie’s daily nuisances of high school and chores, her sister’s relentless teasing, and her brothers’ typical idiocy, her loneliness—all of it was bearable because she got to talk with him each Friday night. She lived for those phone calls.

Then, the last weekend of March, they just stopped.

At first, she thought his Friday classes must be overwhelming him and he couldn’t get away long enough to call her. He’d surely call as soon as he could on Saturday. Then Saturday passed with no word from him. Annie fretted and worried, until Susan told her to knock it off or she’d kick her morose butt down the stairs and out into the yard. Even Mama was short with her. Annie figured she overreacted, so she forced herself to calm down and to be patient.

Two weeks into April, she still hadn’t heard from him. Uneasy about bothering him when he was so busy with classes, she’d finally tried calling his cell phone, but he never answered. She’d left messages at his frat house. He didn’t return them. By late April, Annie was angry and confused. There wasn’t anyone she could speak to over at Quincy Hall, and she felt uncomfortable asking Martha about Travis. Besides, she knew Martha’s hands were full helping with Mr. Quincy, who stayed in bed most of the time after that second stroke did so much damage.

Annie’s balance was out of whack. She and Travis never had even a slight disagreement in all the years they’d known each other. Sometimes it seemed as if they shared one mind. This sudden, unexplained break unnerved her. Nobody knew all of her hopes and dreams the way Travis did. For over five years she’d counted on having such loving support in her daily life. She’d planned a future with him: marriage, children, celebrating their love forever. Now, there was nothing, not even a letter.

By early May, she more or less resigned herself to not hearing from Travis. When his birthday came without any contact from him, she just gave up, her heart in pieces. For some reason, he’d withheld himself from her.