Texas Sunrise (26 page)

“I have to do something,” Sawyer whispered to her husband. “I have to say something to wipe that awful look from her face. She's my mother, Adam.”

“She's strung too tight, Sawyer. Leave her alone, and by alone I mean keep that mouth of yours shut. You don't see Cole doing anything, do you?”

“Cole's a guy. At a time like this a woman needs a woman,” Sawyer said with a catch in her voice. “My God, Adam, do you have any idea how she must feel?”

“Pretty shitty, I'd imagine.” Adam gave his wife a nudge. “Talk to her about anything but Rand.”

“All right,” Sawyer mumbled as she made her way across the room to where her mother was talking to her grandmother and Thad.

“It looks like one of those Texas storms we've heard about is starting to brew,” Thad said, motioning with his arm toward the wide expanse of windows.

“I remember one or two of those, don't you, Grandmam?” Sawyer said to Billie.

“More than one or two,” Billie said lightly. “Would you girls mind sitting down with me? My legs are tired,” Billie lied. “Thad, fetch us a drink, please.”

“Not right now, Mam. I want to talk to Cole.” Maggie looked at her watch and frowned. “If there is going to be a storm, I should leave now. I don't want to miss my plane.”

“You're leaving?” Billie said blankly.

“You mean you're going back to Hawaii?” Sawyer said, stunned at her mother's words.

“Is there any reason why I should stay?” Maggie asked coolly.

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now, darling,” Billie said quietly.

“Why is that, Mam?”

“Under the circumstances, I would think you'd want to be with your family,” Billie said gently, her face full of sadness.

“The way
you
want to be with us? It was you, Mam, who said we were to peddle our papers and leave you and Thad alone. I'd like to be alone too. I've been alone before. Excuse me,” she said, and walked away.

“Did she say good-bye to Chesney?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes. They shook hands,” Billie said. “I found that a little hard to accept, but right now Maggie has to do whatever it takes to get through this. If she is going to leave, I hope she goes before Valentine Mitchell gets here. Ivy told me she called and asked to stop by.”

“Oh, God,” was all Sawyer could say.

“I didn't think Maggie would wear black. But I never expected her to wear red,” Billie said fretfully.

“Whatever it takes, Grandmam,” Sawyer said, reaching for the glass of wine Thad held out to her.

Across the room, within earshot of Riley and Ivy, Maggie said, “I'd like to leave now, if you don't mind.”

“Are you sure, Mother?” Cole asked.

“Yes, I'm sure. I'll go through the kitchen and slip out the back door. I'll meet you by the car.”

“Aren't you going to say good-bye?” Cole asked, stunned at his mother's words.

“You know I don't like good-byes, Cole. They're so final. I've had about all the finality I can handle for one day. If it's a problem for you to take me to the airport, I can call a car service.”

“It's no problem, Mother. I'll meet you outside. I have to get the keys from Riley.”

Riley's eyes were full of unasked questions when he handed over the keys. Cole shrugged. “I'm not going to try and change her mind,” Cole said softly. “Once my mother makes up her mind, there's no changing it. We all know that. I won't be long.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ivy saw movements in the courtyard. “It's Val,” she said to Riley. “She must have driven in from the back. Don't look at me like that, Riley. She said she wanted to pay her respects to the family. Think what you want, Riley. I like Val. I like her a lot, and since this is my home too, I don't see why there should be any kind of a problem.”

“I was thinking more about Val than the family. She's going to feel awkward, I think,” Riley muttered. “It's amazing, you know? When you stop to think about it, no one knows anything. Neither Rand nor Val admitted to anything, and yet . . . oh, skip it. Civility has always been this family's long suit.” He gave his wife a gentle squeeze before he walked to where Cary and Susan were sitting.

Ivy made her way to the kitchen as unobtrusively as she could. Damn, Val's timing couldn't have been worse, she thought fretfully. She wondered for the thousandth time if the attorney and Rand had really, as Riley put it,
done it.
She remembered their fight, and how she'd defended Val, her voice shaking with emotion. She'd flounced out of the room yelling over her shoulder, “Valentine Mitchell would never do anything to hurt this family.” It had been hers and Riley's first serious disagreement, and one Riley had apologized for two hours later.

Outside, the sky was darkening rapidly. The wind whipped through the tunnel-like courtyard. Maggie had the car door open when Val parked next to her. Maggie turned, the skirt of her red dress fussing about her knees in the whipping wind.

“Val,” she said quietly.

“I came to pay my respects to your family, Maggie.”

“I have no objection. I'm leaving myself,” Maggie said tightly. “Cole's driving me to the airport. I think it's commendable of you to show up like this. If I had even the slightest doubt in my mind that Rand or you told the truth, just the teeniest little doubt, I'd throw my arms around you and weep with sorrow, but, you see, I know. In my heart I know Rand was unfaithful. Under the circumstances, if I were in your place, I might have done the same thing. Then again, maybe I wouldn't have. Emotions are the one thing in the world you can't count on. I've learned that the hard way.” Unexpectedly, Maggie's hand shot out. Val reached for it. “Maybe we'll talk about this someday,” Maggie said, getting into the car.

“Just call,” Val said in a whispery voice.

Only Ivy saw Val knuckle her eyes. Only Ivy saw her slide back into her car, where she leaned her head over the steering wheel, crying. She watched the attorney back the car out of the driveway and head out to the road that ran perpendicular to the house. An immense surge of relief flooded through her. Relief for Val. She ran then up the back stairs of the kitchen, taking the steps two at a time. Gasping with the exertion, she ran down the hall to the baby's room. Only here was it normal. Only here in this bright, colorful room were things the way they should be.

Ivy's eyes fell on the cartoon-figured hamper that held Billie's VCR tape. She'd removed it from her knitting bag and secured it in an airtight Ziploc bag before placing it in the bottom of Moss's hamper, because Riley liked to rummage. She felt like a criminal when she lifted the lid on the wicker chest, and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the tape untouched in its plastic bag.

“There you are,” Susan hissed from the doorway. Ivy dropped the lid, her face full of guilt.

“Susan, you startled me,” she chided.

“Sorry.” She didn't sound sorry at all, Ivy thought.

“I was just checking on Moss. Maggie left.” Ivy whispered until she was out in the hall, the door safely closed behind her.

“I know. Maybe it's best for her.” Susan made it sound like no matter what happened or where it happened, it would be for the best. “I just came up to tell you I'm taking Cary back. This whole thing has upset him terribly. This is not a good place to be right now. Things always happen here. Sunbridge was never a happy place.”

“That's a terrible thing to say, Susan. A place isn't unhappy. It's the people in the place that are unhappy.”

“Maggie was never happy here. Cole wasn't either, since he deeded his half of the place to Riley. Mam wasn't happy here, she said so. Grandfather Seth banished Aunt Amelia, and she hated Sunbridge. Mam said Grandmother Jessica wasn't happy here, so who does that leave? Riley? You? That mean-spirited tyrant who was my grandfather was the only other person who actually lived here, and no one knows to this day what made
him
tick. No, you and Riley are the only ones who
say
they're happy here. Anyway, I only came up here to tell you we're leaving. It was a nice luncheon, Ivy.”

As Susan made her way down the steps, Ivy stood at the railing, looking down into the great room.

Riley's family. Hers now. Ivy's shoulders slumped. They straightened almost immediately when Riley looked up and smiled. She smiled back.

It was four o'clock when Sawyer and Adam, the last of the family to leave, said their good-byes. “We seem to be doing this a lot lately, saying good-bye,” Sawyer said sadly.

“Good-byes are never easy,” Ivy said quietly.

“Aunt Maggie can't bring herself to say those words,” Riley remarked. “She'll say so long, see you around, or something to that effect, but she'll never say good-bye. I wonder why that is?”

“I don't think it's important right now, Riley,” Sawyer said gently. “Maggie will cope. She's tough. She put up with all of us for a long time, didn't she?”

“Yeah, she did. Cole said he'll take Sumi and the baby to see her as soon as the doctor gives the okay for the baby to fly. Aunt Maggie will like that.”

“Yes, she'll like that,” Sawyer said happily. “Chesney didn't stay around very long. She didn't say two words to me. I thought that was a little strange.”

“What's even stranger,” Ivy said coolly, “was how fast she made an appointment with Val to go over Rand's will. I didn't see any tears in her eyes at the church service, and I looked.”

“No kidding. I missed that,” Sawyer muttered.

“She was probably in shock, like the rest of us,” Riley said.

“Grow up, Riley,” Sawyer said nastily. “Months ago, Maggie told me Chesney was never at the house and that the relationship Rand wanted with her never really materialized. Chesney, Maggie said, was ever so polite, but ever so indifferent. For a while Maggie had convinced herself that she had a second daughter, but it turned out to be wishful thinking. Chesney is a very wealthy young woman today. She gets half of everything, and
everything
is considerable.”

Riley smiled. He loved it when Sawyer was off and running. “Except the house in Hawaii,” he said. “Val told me herself that last year Rand had deeded it over to Maggie because she loved it so. I assume Aunt Maggie knows this, but knowing Rand, he may never have told her.”

“That's something, at least.” Sawyer turned to Ivy. “Ivy, thanks for putting up with us,” she said, hugging her. “Riley, take care of things, and don't let Susan get to either one of you. Production on the plane starts two weeks from Monday. Cary assured me the money would be in the coffers in less than a week. He must know some pretty influential people.”

“That's great, Sawyer,” Riley said. “Cary is one in a million. I'm glad he's the one who's getting the project off the ground. Cole feels the same way. You really stepped in it, old girl.”

“Didn't I, though?” Sawyer said smugly.

Another round of hugs followed. Both Riley and Ivy watched until the rental car was out of sight.

The moment Riley closed the door, Ivy said, “This was such an awful day. All I want to do is curl up in a corner and pretend it never happened. I felt so bad for Maggie. I wanted to slap Susan till she bounced off the walls. That doesn't say much for me, does it, honey?”

“It says you care. Let's put a slicker on Moss and go out for a chili dog with lots of onions ... real greasy french fries and onion rings, and one of those giant-size slushes. Blueberry. Later I'll drink a quart of Mylanta.”

“Just the three of us?” Ivy said, her eyes shining.

“Yep.”

“You're on. I'll get Moss.”

“Ivy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

“I'm never gonna win this one, right?”

“Nope.”

Maggie's eyes were glued to the sun creeping over the
horizon. Sunrises and sunsets should be shared. A soft whimper escaped her lips. She squirmed, the chill of the vinyl lounge cushion sending chills through her body. She struggled with the oversize beach towel she'd used for a cover, yanking and pulling at it to no avail. She had to get up, brave the new day somehow. She had to make coffee and eat something, possibly take a vitamin pill. There were so many things she had to do; the list was growing longer each day. In the ten days she'd been back, she'd done nothing but sleep, drink coffee, and swim. She gave up her struggle with the beach towel and entered the kitchen.

The kitchen was warmer than the lanai. In another hour it would be warm and sunny and filled with the scent of the plumeria outside the open windows. She loved plumeria and all the island flowers.

Maggie carefully measured out coffee, added just the right amount of water to the Mr. Coffee, and pressed the red button. The refrigerator surrendered bread, butter, and mango jelly. There was no milk and no juice or eggs. A jar of pickles with cloudy brine was the only thing left. She was going to have to go to town to the market. “Tomorrow,” she muttered. Everything was scheduled for tomorrow.

She listened for the last little gush of bubbles as the water in the machine dribbled down to the pot. Ten cups. She'd drink it all by mid-morning. Her toast popped up. It looked as dark as the coffee. She knew the butter wasn't spreadable, but she tried anyway, finally settling for little pats, which she covered with three spoonfuls of jelly. She chewed slowly and methodically.

When she finished, she donned a clean bathing suit. She poured fresh coffee into a giant-size mug that said MAGGIE on it and carried it down to the beach, where she would sip at it and stare out across the water until her eyes started to burn, at which point she would head back to the house for more coffee, which she would drink on the lanai.

With the exception of her caffeine nerves, she felt better today, more rested and not as restless. She could think clearly now and was probably capable of making a decision.

She shuddered in the warm, fragrant air, her eyes sweeping her private stretch of beach, the beautiful palm trees and the squat palmettos and the gorgeous white sand. It was all so perfect, this place she'd called her personal paradise. If she didn't watch herself, it was a place where she would lose touch with reality.

She brought her mind into the present. She'd given herself ten days to deal with Rand's death. During that time, she'd allowed herself to settle into a dark, emotional place that was full of nightmares and boogeymen.. Ten days. Not much, but all she allowed herself to mourn, to hate herself, to wallow in self-pity. Now it was time to rejoin the world.

Maggie ran the list of things “to do” over in her mind. At the top was changing the message on the answering machine, listening to ten days' worth of messages, since she hadn't been answering the phone, going through her mail, then packing up Rand's mail and sending it to Chesney.

Chesney. Rand's daughter. Her stepdaughter.

Nobody was what they seemed, she thought sadly. Not Rand, not Chesney, not even her own mother. She wondered if what you saw was ever what you got.

Chesney was gone, bag and baggage, and Maggie felt only a sense of relief. Chesney had been an intruder. She'd had her own life, had asked for nothing, and had openly said she didn't love her father, though she did admit to liking him. She reminded Rand over and over that she would one day return, to England. Brian, her fiance, she said, was perfectly willing to make his home in England and perhaps fly for the same airline she did.

It occurred to Maggie at that moment that Chesney was as unforgiving as she was. The only difference was that Chesney had said from the beginning—from the moment she found out Rand was her father—that she wanted nothing except to see him, to see the man who'd let her grow up in an orphanage believing she wasn't loved or wanted.

Inheriting half of Rand's sizable estate was poor compensation for spending one's young life in an orphanage. The girl deserved whatever Rand left her. Maggie wondered how long it would take Chesney to stake a claim to this slice of paradise. Not that it mattered one way or the other. Chesney deserved more than whatever Rand had left to her in his will.

“Miss Maggie!” Addie, Maggie's three-day-a-week domestic, called from the lanai.

Maggie stood up and brushed the sand from her bare legs, then drained the last of her coffee before heading toward the lanai. “I'm sorry, Addie, I forgot you were coming today.” Addie, Maggie thought, was the neatest, tidiest, nicest person she'd ever met. She was tiny, no more than four feet eight inches tall, but she said her coronet of braids added an entire inch to her height, making her four feet nine inches tall. She took the extra inch very seriously. She had dark licorice eyes with a double fringe of dark eyelashes. Her age was a mystery which she refused to discuss. She also refused to tell Maggie where she bought her muumuus, one-of-a-kind, gorgeous creations, which Maggie adored. Today she was attired in a straight-lined, boat-necked muumuu of a pinkish lavender. On her feet were sturdy L.A. Gear sneakers.

“What would you like me to do today, Miss Maggie?”

Maggie inhaled deeply, letting her breath explode in a loud shoosh. “Today, Addie, I want you to ... pack up all of Mr. Nelson's things and take them back to town with you. I mean everything. Give them to the Rescue Mission, or if you know someone who needs them ... I don't care. I would appreciate it if you'd call one of your brothers or cousins to come for the bedroom furniture in my room and ... and Chesney's. I don't care what you do with it either. I know you might not get to all this today, but if you're free, come back tomorrow and pack up Mr. Nelson's office. There are a lot of boxes in the garage. Ask Mattie when he comes to do the lawn if he'll carry them up to the crawl space over the garage.”

Addie's licorice eyes were full of concern. “If we take the furniture, where will you sleep, Miss Maggie?”

Maggie grimaced. “Out here on the lanai, where I've been sleeping for the past ten days. And, Addie, throw away the red dress and jacket. The shoes too,” she added as an afterthought.

The black eyes snapped. “There is no food in the refrigerator,” Addie said, wagging a finger at Maggie. “I will tell my brothers to stop at the market before they drive up here. Will there be anything else?”

“Would you mind bringing me the leather case in my room? The big one leaning up against the wall. And I'd appreciate it if you'd make some more coffee.”

The black eyes snapped again. “You still haven't been out of the kitchen, have you?”

Maggie dug her heels into the sand at the edge of the lanai. “No, I haven't. I've been using the bathroom off the kitchen. I can't . . . I'm not ready . . . Later, when you're finished I'll . . . maybe then I can . . . Right now, it's not important, Addie.”

“You've lost weight, Miss Maggie. Tonight before I leave I will cook you some food. You must promise to eat.”

Maggie nodded absently, then headed back down to the beach and into the water. She swam till she was exhausted. She rolled onto her back and let the waves rush her to the shore. Exhausted with her effort, she struggled toward the house, where she snuggled into the lounge chair, the beach towel snug around her to prevent an attack of the shakes. The MAGGIE cup was full to the brim, steam spiraling upward. She inched one of her hands free of the towel to the cigarettes next to the cup. Where had Addie found them? Over the past days she'd wanted them desperately, but she wasn't desperate enough to drive to town or to walk through the rooms of the house to search for one. She lit one now, inhaling deeply. Terrible, terrible habit, smoking. Her eyes fell on the Surgeon General's words. As if she cared. She puffed and sipped. Sipped and puffed. Rand loved to smoke, got great enjoyment out of cigarettes. Maggie smoked and sipped until the cup was empty.

“Life goes on,” she muttered as she bent to pick up her leather case, which once belonged to her mother. It was full of sketches, color samples, Billie's formulae for dyes, every color of the rainbow and some that weren't in any color formula anywhere in the world. She stuck the cigarettes and lighter into the bra of her swimsuit before she trudged with the heavy case out to the monkeypod tree, where she laid it down and unzipped it.

The sun crawled high in the heavens and then started its downward descent as Maggie studied the contents of the case, scribbling notes, matching colors, writing questions to herself. Once, she looked up and fantasized she was meeting with one of her mother's clients. “Gentlemen, the offices of Billie Limited are under a monkeypod tree.” Her adrenaline was flowing, she could feel it coursing up through her body. A good sign. She went back to work, stopping again at four o'clock to stare at the descending sun. “If I can get the color and blend it with ... what? What I want is a color that's the same shade as the sun over Sunbridge.” She would have to do some experimenting with the pots of paint in her bedroom closet. It occurred to her then that she was going to need some work space. “Sorry, gentlemen, I've closed up shop under the monkeypod tree. From now on, Billie Limited will be conducting business out of the garage.”

It was a decision. She'd actually made a decision. Out loud. “When you say it out loud, it makes it real, definite. All I'll need is a chair and two folding tables,” she mumbled.

“Miss Maggie,” Addie called from the lanai, “I have your dinner ready.”

Maggie looked around, an expression of shock on her face. The sun was starting to set.

“It's not much this evening, Miss Maggie. Just a chicken pie, but I made the crust myself. There's enough for your lunch tomorrow. The vegetables are from my own garden. My brother's wife sent the dessert. I know you like banana cream.”

“Thank you, Addie,” Maggie said, sitting down at the table. “It looks delicious. Tell me, where did you find those cigarettes?”

Addie opened one of the kitchen drawers and pointed. She clucked her tongue in disapproval and then pointed to the large glass of milk next to Maggie's plate. Dutifully, Maggie picked it up and drank. Addie gleamed with pleasure.

“Tomorrow I will come back and do the laundry. The office will be finished by noon. What will you do for a bed?”

“I guess I'll have to go to town and get a new one. I have to get some folding tables too. I know you must be tired, Addie. I can clean up here. Go home to your family. And, Addie, thank you.”

Maggie stopped eating long enough to thank the cousins and brothers trooping through the kitchen in Addie's wake. She started to eat again, realizing she was ravenous. She dug into the remainder of the chicken pie and finished it off. She finished the milk and poured more. Then she ate two slices of banana pie. Before the night was over, she'd probably finish that too. She could walk off the calories on the treadmill in the garage, if she felt like it.

It would take her ten minutes to wash her dishes and tidy the kitchen. The night loomed ahead of her. She hated this time of day, that fragile time when day crept into darkness and the blackness was sprinkled with artificial lights.

Was she wrong? she wondered. Would the question haunt her forever?
Don't think about Rand. Rand no longer exists.
The realization brought such an ache to her chest, she doubled over, fighting for her breath. Her eyes started to water. She wiped at them angrily with the back of her hands. She
wasn't
crying. How could she cry when she was dead inside? If I'm dead inside, then why do I feel like this? she asked herself as she slammed her dishes into the sink. Scalding hot water poured from the faucet, steam rushing upward. She added detergent. She watched curiously as the frothy bubbles rose up and poured down the front of the sink. She turned off the water.
You could be wrong. Valentine said you were wrong. You judged and condemned a man you loved based solely on your feelings, on instinct, and now he's dead. You could be wrong. Val said you're wrong. Rand denied . . . Rand said . . . I don't care what he said, he lied. Val lied because . . . Val lied
. “Period,” Maggie said coldly. She looked at the pie crust crumbs on the table. She swept them to the floor with her arm. The ants had to eat too.

Now what was she supposed to do? What did she normally do after dinner? Walk on the beach with Rand, hold hands, make love in the sand, play Scrabble, watch television, read. All of the above.

Maggie turned and yanked at the kitchen drawer. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, ripping at it. She looked around for the MAGGIE cup, but the water in the sink was too hot for her hands. She opened the cabinet door for a clean cup and saw the RAND cup, the mate to hers. Her eyes burning fiercely, she reached for it, hefted it in her hand, then threw it across the kitchen. The shattering sound was deafening. She ran from the kitchen, through the lanai and down to the beach.

You aren't perfect, Maggie. Admit that just maybe you're wrong. Look it square in the face and admit the possibility
. “I saw the guilt in his face,” she said aloud, “heard the lie in his voice. I'm not wrong.”
What if you are? What if, what if?

Maggie stomped her way down the beach fighting the tears burning her eyes. “I know! I know!” she shouted, to be heard over the lapping waves.

She walked for a long time, stumbling and righting herself in the wet sand. When she was exhausted, she turned to see how far she'd come. At least two miles, she estimated. She could barely see the lanterns strung on the lanai.

She ran back, tripping and falling, stumbling and cursing, until she reached the lanai, where she collapsed, her breathing ragged and uneven. “I know I wasn't wrong. I know it!” she cried brokenly. “Oh, God, I need you, Mam.”