Texas Sunrise (21 page)

It had happened. That much she was sure of. As to the date and the exact hour . . . well, the poor little wife didn't get to know everything.

How she'd looked forward to Rand returning to Sunbridge. She'd counted on his support. She had needed it to face the fact of her mother's illness. But he hadn't opened his arms to her. She'd run to him, throwing
her
arms around him. He'd had no other choice but to embrace her. He hadn't looked her in the eye, though, hadn't said he missed her, hadn't smiled. She'd known for certain then that he'd slept with Valentine.

Should she confront him? Should she tell him to move out of the house? Cary had done the same thing to Amelia. That's why she'd blurted out that hateful word. Amelia had forgiven Cary, though.

Amelia had confided in her once, late at night. She had admitted she was ill and couldn't give Cary what he needed in the bedroom. She had said she knew about Julie, Thad's niece. She'd gone to extraordinary lengths to cover up her knowledge of the affair and at the same time make it easier for Cary. How noble and unselfish she had been. “Because I love Cary more than life itself, Maggie darling,” she'd said. “And I'm so very old, Maggie.” Amelia had whimpered then, and Maggie had done her best to comfort her. How could she know then that Cary's betrayal with Julie had happened in her own house in Hawaii?

“Well, I'm not old, and I'm not in poor health. I can't forgive this betrayal,” Maggie cried, heartbroken.

Her conscience prodded her. It probably didn't mean anything. These things happened.

Not to me they don't, she told herself. She believed in fidelity, in honoring one's marriage vows. She'd never cheated on him.

Did she have the opportunity? No. She knew she couldn't say what she would or wouldn't do if she were in a similar situation. The right moment, her conscience responded, a drink, your guard is down and ...

You're wrong, Maggie argued silently. I love Rand.
Loved.
No matter what, she would never be unfaithful. Rand was going to pretend nothing happened. He thought she didn't know.
I know. Damnit, I know.
He couldn't face her. That's why he wasn't here with her. Under normal circumstances, he would . . . would . . . he would be here with her, consoling her over Mam. She never would have blurted out what she did to Cary if Rand hadn't . . . forget it! Maggie sobbed, running to the bed.

Her conscience pricked a third time. Isn't all this just your jealousy of Valentine? You envy her ability. It's possible she tried to seduce Rand, and he
almost
gave in, and that's why he's feeling guilty. You could be wrong. You must have some doubts.

“None,” Maggie said, punching the pillow. “I know, don't you understand?” A woman knows when her husband betrays her. She might not admit it, for whatever her reasons, but she knows. She was relieved when her conscience remained silent.

It was ten minutes past one when the car's headlights arced on the bedroom wall. Maggie slid from the bed and walked over to the open window. Down below she could see Thad and Rand talking in low voices. They must have stopped at a diner for coffee after they dropped Cary off. Would Rand come to the room now? Not likely. Where would he sleep?

Maggie settled herself into a sapphire-blue slipper chair, her eyes glued to the bottom of the door where the hallway light filtered through. Thad had to go past the door. She would hear him or see a break in the light. Through the kitchen, to the back hall, across the family room, out to the center hall and the stairway, and up the steps. She counted, wondering if he knew about the kitchen stairway alongside the refrigerator. Not that it mattered one way or the other. Down the hall now. She waited, holding her breath, for the break in the light at the bottom of the door.

Tears rolled down Maggie's cheeks. She wiped at them with the sleeve of her shirt. As the hours crawled by, she forced herself to think of other things: her mother, her children, Susan and Cary, but she always came back to Rand. Once again her world was upside down.

It was still dark at five-thirty when Maggie washed her face and brushed her hair. An early morning gallop would do her a world of good. A brisk ride in the fresh air might clear the cobwebs out of her head. She was on the landing of the stairs when she sensed a presence nearby. She turned, expecting to see Rand. Sawyer brought her finger to her lips for silence. Maggie nodded and motioned for her daughter to follow her.

“Don't say anything, Sawyer. Please, I'd like you to join me in a ride. I need to talk to someone. What that means is I'd appreciate it if you would listen.”

“You didn't sleep at all, did you?” Sawyer said when they were in the stable.

“No, I didn't. Did you?”

“Not really. I'm so used to sleeping with one eye and ear open for the twins, I guess . . . I doubt if anyone in this house slept well last night. But we're talking about you. What's wrong, Maggie?”

Maggie pulled the cinch tighter, then turned to face Sawyer. “Rand cheated on me. He slept with Valentine Mitchell,” she said cooly. “Last night, when I said what I did to Cary, it just hit me that he'd done the same thing to Amelia. Nobody knows better than I that it was an unforgivable thing to say. I love Cary. I would never knowingly do or say anything to hurt him. I don't know what to do. I can't . . . forgive Rand. Not now anyway. The funny thing is, Sawyer, he doesn't even know I know. He didn't come to our room at all last night. That's his guilt. When I was married to Cranston, I became an expert on infidelity. I swore it would never happen to me again. I thought we had such a wonderful marriage. I likened it in my mind to Mam and Thad's marriage.”

As they rode off, Maggie took the lead, her heels digging into the horse's flanks. It was still too dark to see well. She's going to kill herself, Sawyer thought. Sawyer's own horse, chomping at the bit to follow the other, reared to show his disapproval. “What the hell?” Sawyer muttered, loosening the reins in her hands. “Follow that horse,” she said dramatically.

Forty minutes later Sawyer reined in. They were on Jarvis land. By squinting, she could make out her husband's family home. She wondered if Maggie had lost her bearings in the dark or if this was her destination from the beginning. It was almost full light, that purplish-gray part of the morning that heralds a bright, beautiful day.

“Let's go over to the house and sit on the swing,” Maggie called over her shoulder. Sawyer nodded.

This was nice, Sawyer thought. Adam would be pleased that she'd ridden out to check on the house. They really had to think about bringing the girls here for a while in the summer. It would be wonderful to get out of the city in August.

Maggie was already on the swing when Sawyer rode up to the hitching post alongside the house. The mare whickered softly as Sawyer slid from her back. She joined her mother on the swing.

“I always liked this house,” Maggie said.

“I always liked it too. Adam had a very happy childhood here.”

“I had a miserable childhood,” Maggie said.

“I know.”

“Thanks to Mam, you had the best.”

“I know that too,” Sawyer said. “I thank God every day.”

“I've always kind of talked to God. I say prayers every night before I go to sleep. I always say . . . said, thanks for giving me such a wonderful marriage. Guess I won't be saying that anymore. In fact, I probably won't be doing much praying from here on in.”

“Are you saying you're giving up on God?” Sawyer asked in disbelief.

“I just said I won't be doing much praying. I didn't say I was giving up on God. Only a fool would do that. I'm kind of numb, Sawyer, so don't hit on me right now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go back to Hawaii this evening. I canceled Rand's flight. I don't want him in the house. I ... I'll have to tell him, I guess,” Maggie mumbled.

“I would think so,” Sawyer said.

“Susan is going to stay here. She didn't say so, but I think . . . she will. I'll keep myself busy. There's a lot of work that has to be done to get Mam's old business back in the running. Maybe I'm making a mistake by going back. Maybe I should stay here. I'll be closer to you and Mam. I can get an apartment in town or I can ask Riley and Ivy if I can rent Mam's old studio. What I have to do is make a decision. What do you think?”

“You told me you just wanted me to listen,” Sawyer chided gently. She fished around in her jeans pocket and withdrew a key ring. She worked one off and handed it to her mother. “You have to do what is right for you. This is the key to the house. Stay here if you like. Adam will be grateful that someone is here to look after the place.”

“What's your opinion of Valentine Mitchell?” Maggie asked carefully.

“I've always thought her a very capable person, and I've always liked her. And yes, she's attractive. That's really what you want to know, isn't it? But then so are you. I've always liked her.”

“How could she do this to me?”

“It takes two people, Maggie,” Sawyer said gently.

“I'm very well aware of that. It just makes it a little easier if I place some of the blame on Val.”

“You said Rand doesn't know you know. How did you find out?”

“No one told me, if that's your question. It's just something I know, something I feel. I'm not wrong, Sawyer.”

“You mean you just
think
Rand slept with Val?” Maggie nodded. “What if you're wrong? What if you accuse Rand and you find out it never happened? I just assumed someone told you or you . . . oh, Lord, I don't know what I thought,” Sawyer said sourly.

“Come on, time to get back. Don't worry about me, Sawyer, and thanks for the key. If I decide to stay on, I'll let you know. What time is your plane?”

“Eleven o'clock. What time is yours?”

“Five, if I decide to take it. I enjoyed the ride. And the company,” Maggie said wanly.

“Me too,” Sawyer said softly.

Back at the barn, Sawyer turned the horse over to her mother. “Will you rub him down for me? I have to take another shower and see if I can do something with my hair.”

Maggie nodded.

Once the horses were rubbed down and secure in their stalls, Maggie trudged out to the courtyard. She couldn't ever remember being this tired, this discouraged, this betrayed. She wanted to cry, needed to cry, but a release of tears eluded her. How could Rand do this to her? Had he done this before? How was she going to get through this?

She looked at her watch—seven o'clock. She felt like a tired war horse when she struggled up from the milk crate on which she'd been sitting. Time to make the trek up the hill, the only place left for her to go. She brushed at her tears with the back of her hand.

She picked her way carefully, remembering other times she'd gone up to the peaceful cemetery to talk things out. First to her father, then to Riley's father and Amelia. And always she felt better when she walked down the hill.

The path was overgrown, the medallions of stone covered with moss, which was slippery with early morning dew. Obviously Riley and Ivy didn't come to the hill. Why should they? she thought. Thanks to me and Cole, they have everything. She stopped in her tracks and covered her face with her hands. God, what was wrong with her? Why was she thinking like this? She looked at the footpath again, at the overgrown brush and moss. When you were dead, you were forgotten. She sobbed then, in great racking heaves that seemed to echo over the hill.

Maggie hugged herself tighter underneath the shawl as she looked around. The graves were untended. She silently cried out her rage as she dropped to her knees before her father's headstone. This shouldn't be. Riley couldn't be
that
busy. Surely he could afford to have someone clip away the vines and roots choking off the stones. She lashed out at her father's headstone with her clenched fist. Pain shot up her arm, but she didn't care. She stared at her own skin and at the blood trickling over the O in her father, Moss's, name. She reached out with her good hand to wipe it away.

She talked breathlessly then, the words pouring out of her. When she felt purged, she moved on her knees to her brother Riley's grave. She spoke softly there, telling him all about Riley Junior and little Moss. Then she moved to Amelia's stone where she broke down completely.

“He was so changed, Amelia, when he got back. So cool and ... and almost indifferent. I have this feeling, and it's so hateful, I want to rip out my heart. How did you handle it? I know we talked many times, but you were so ... accepting, because you genuinely liked Julie. I know you were ill and that made a difference too, but the hurt had to be the same. I'm not wrong, Amelia. I feel it, just the way you did. A woman knows when her husband has been unfaithful. She knows. The moment Rand came into the house and looked at me, I knew. My God, I knew. Oh, God, Amelia, you know I didn't mean what I said to Cary. I was lashing out at Rand and ... and Mam. I hate being helpless. I can't do anything for Mam and Rand, it's a done deal, as the young people say today. It was a double whammy. I almost took a drink, but I didn't. I don't know how to handle any of this. I don't know if I
can
handle it. You know what? There are two words in the English language I hate with a passion. Mortality and infidelity. You know what else I hate, Amelia? That damn saying that you should be careful of what you wish for because you just might get it.”

Maggie threw her arms around Amelia's headstone and sobbed.

“I thought I would find you here,” Billie gasped, struggling to get her breath.