Texas Sunrise (34 page)

While Thad's Lincoln Town Car chewed up the miles and Billie slept, Ivy Coleman paced, her eyes those of a trapped animal. She shoved the VCR tape behind the cushion on the sofa. A second later she retrieved it and slid it under the couch, only to pull it out and hide it behind a book. She continued to pace, around the low-backed sofa with its oversize cushions, around the table with its yellow bowl of daisies, around the recliner and foot stool. Angrily, she walked back to the bookcase, where she yanked at the books. She snatched the tape and laid it on the coffee table. She shoved aside two copies of
Architectural Digest
and the August issue of
Better Homes and Gardens
. She slid the crystal ashtray to the far end of the table. The tape glared at her like a giant, square black eye. She started to shake. Her eyes turned to the clock on the bookshelf. Her mother would be walking through the door in less than twenty minutes to take Moss back to Florida with her. Riley would be home in a little over an hour.

Oh, God! She wished she'd followed Val's advice and told Riley about the tape. But she hadn't! She'd told Sumi, though. Sumi understood. Oh, God! She had agreed with Val's advice, and followed through by having an extra tape run off and left in Val's possession. Just in case, Val had said.

Five o'clock. By eight the family would be here. All of them. Riley didn't know that either. Would he forgive her for taking things into her own hands?

The calls had been so hard to make, but she'd done it. To spare Riley.

The moment Ivy heard her mother's voice, she calmed. She hugged her, her eyes brimming with tears. Her mother wiped at them with a tissue.

“You have to be strong,” Tess said. “You're doing what Billie wants, and if the family doesn't understand, then it's their problem. That goes for your husband too.”

“What if they don't, Mama? What if they fight and carry on? What do I do then?”

“You just keep saying over and over it's what Billie wants. It's right there on that tape. Did that lady lawyer call you back?”

“Not yet, Mama.”

“Honey, I don't have time to talk. I have to get right back or I'll miss the plane. Is Moss ready?”

Ivy pointed to the playpen and the pile of luggage by the door.

“Lord, Ivy, I'm not taking any of that. Coots is out buying everything we'll need.” She held up her hand as Ivy was about to protest. “He feels important doing it. I just told him to get one of everything and to assemble it by the time I got back. He dropped me off at the airport, just
itching
to head for Burdine's. All I need for now is a diaper bag, Moss's bottles, and one change of clothes. That's all, honey.”

“Okay, okay. Here, I wrote out—”

“Ivy, we'll manage. Where's his whuppie?”

“Right here,” she said, handing it over.

“Ivy, if ... if you need your daddy, you just call.”

“I will, Mama. Give Daddy a kiss for me. Well, here he is, my bundle of joy,” she said, giving Moss one last hug.

“We're going to spoil him, Ivy.”

“I know that, Mama. Take care of him.”

Tess nodded. “You stand up for yourself. Billie trusts you. Don't let her down. Not now. You tell the family I'm real sorry. I always liked Billie. I was jealous of her for a while, but I came to realize you can't be jealous of
good people
. You can only like good people. 'Bye, honey.”

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“Of course.”

Ivy cried then, great, hard gulping sobs as she watched the airport limo until it was out of sight.

When Riley walked through the doorway at six-fifteen, Ivy was listening to Dan Rather on the news, her eyes on the VCR tape.

“Hey,” Riley shouted, to be heard over the news, “are we going somewhere?”

Ivy took a deep breath as she lowered the volume on the television set. She was amazed at how steady her voice was when she said, “No, my mother came to pick up Moss. She took him back to Florida. I had his stuff all piled up, but she said Daddy wanted to go out and buy . . . what she said was, Daddy needs to feel important.”

“Don't you think you should have told me?” Riley said quietly.

“Yes, I should have, but the circumstances . . . I just thought it would be better if Moss was away from here for a while. He'll be well taken care of.”

“I don't doubt that for a minute, but what do you mean ‘would be better,' and why didn't you tell me?”

“Because . . . because I gave my promise that I wouldn't. What that means is . . . sit down, Riley, I have something to show you. It will explain about . . . about Moss.”

Riley watched his wife change the television channel to three and then turn on the VCR. He grew uneasy when he watched her walk over to the television set and insert the tape that had been lying on the table.

Ivy's eyes never left her husband as he watched the tape. When it ended, she asked, “Do you want me to play it again?”

“Jesus Christ, no!” Riley exploded. “How long have you had this?”

“Since March.”

“And you're just showing it to me now!” Riley sputtered.

“I promised your grandmother, Riley. She asked me not to tell you. She didn't want me to tell anyone. I told Val, who advised me to tell you. I wanted to, Riley, but your grandmother . . . how could I refuse to do what she asked? If it was wrong, I'm sorry. I have to tell you, though, I'd do it again.”

“I'm sorry, honey. It's just that I thought this would never happen. It was . . . in my mind, I think, but . . . I wanted to think it wouldn't happen for . . . for a year, maybe longer,” Riley said, his voice full of sorrow.

Ivy reached for his hand.

“The family?”

“I called them all. Cole is bringing Adam and Sawyer. Sumi, of course. Sumi's sisters are going to watch the children. They'll stop in Hawaii and pick up Maggie, who, by the way, is bringing a friend. Someone named Henry Tanaka. I said that was okay. Maggie needs a friend right now more than she needs family. I said I had no objection.”

“What about Cary and Susan?”

“They'll be here around eight. Separately. I don't quite know what that means. Cary said his companion would drive him over, but he said he would have to spend the night, because the man has to pick up another . . . person early in the morning, to take ... I don't know. I just said yes. Susan said she would leave for England in the morning. I'm sure she'll change her mind. She said, and this is a direct quote, ‘These family get-togethers are getting to be a pain in the ass, and I can do without them.' End of quote.”

“She's the pain in the ass,” Riley said through clenched teeth.

Ivy pressed the rewind button on the VCR.

“Ivy, let's walk up the hill.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

Riley nodded.

“Then I think we should take the shears and those clippers, along with a couple of trash bags. Your Aunt Maggie was very upset when she was here the last time. She said there was no excuse for the way you let the hill go.”

“She's right. There is no excuse. Let's go, the stuff is in the barn.”

It was something to do. Something that needed to be done. Something to pass the time until the family arrived.

While they worked, they talked: about Sawyer's revolutionary plane design; the prototype; Cole's progress in restructuring ColeShad; Maggie's new friend, Henry Tanaka; Cary's Seeing Eye dog; and about how similar the cherry blossom hill was to the spot on this hill. From time to time they both cried.

It was dark when they walked down the hill. Riley dragged three huge gun-metal-gray bags behind him; Ivy carried the basket of garden tools.

While they were washing their hands at the kitchen sink, Ivy whispered, “Riley, we didn't do that because . . . because . . .”

“We did it because it needed to be done. I want you to keep on top of me in regard to the hill. It's important that it be kept up. I'm ashamed I let it go so long. Do we have time for a quick shower?”

Ivy looked at the clock. “Sure.”

Together they walked into the great room at ten minutes past eight. Cary arrived at almost the same moment, Susan soon afterward. The others arrived at twenty-five minutes to nine. Ivy had a moment to take Henry Tanaka aside and talk to him.

“I feel like I know all of you,” Tanaka said, afterward, shaking hands all around. His eyes, Ivy noticed, turned wary when he reached for Susan's hand.

“Are you Hawaiian?” Susan asked.

“More or less.”

“Does that mean you're like a half-breed?”

Tanaka laughed. “That about sums it up. Does it make a difference?”

“Not to me it doesn't,” Susan snapped. “We could take a vote.”

“Shut up, Susan,” Sawyer ordered.

Riley watched tight-lipped. Susan was the instigator here, and she was going to cause more than one problem.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Susan snarled.

“Somebody should tell you,” Adam said quietly. “If you can't keep a civil tongue, then you should leave. I, for one, won't miss that smart mouth of yours.”

“I've had a hell of a long day, crossing datelines and all,” Cole said through clenched teeth. “None of us have had any sleep, and I'm not in the mood for a family harangue. I thought we left that behind us the last time we gathered here in this room.”

They were in pairs, Ivy thought. Everyone had someone but Cary and Susan. God, here it comes, she thought as she visualized a nightmare scenario: Susan going berserk and killing all of them with a gun hidden in her purse.

“Well?” Riley said.

“Well what?” Susan demanded. “You called this get-together, so get on with it. I have things to do.”

“I hope dropping dead is at the top of the list,” Sawyer said.

“Enough!” Riley roared. “You all know Thad called yesterday. He called again this afternoon and spoke to Ivy. He said he's taking Grandmam to Philadelphia because she wants . . . to see it again, the place where she grew up. He told Ivy he thinks . . . she won't . . . she won't make it back home. He also said it's his opinion Grandmam didn't want to die at the farm. She didn't want that for him, for any of us.”

“ ‘Ivy says,' ” Susan put in. “Why did Thad call Ivy? Why not Maggie or me? We're Mam's daughters. Ivy is just a granddaughter-in-law.”

“Well, I can tell you why Thad didn't call you, Susan,” Sawyer shouted. “You're about as stable as a yo-yo. What that translates into in English is, you're nuts. Why does it matter who Thad called? We're all here. We all know. The question is, what are we to do? What does Thad want us to do?”

“Thad wants us all to be together so when it's . . . time,” Riley said, “we'll be . . . we'll be a family. Grandmam entrusted Ivy with her living will. We're going to show it to all of you now. Thad hasn't seen this. According to Grandmam, he doesn't even know she made it. I don't think there will be any doubt in any of your minds when you . . . when you see with your own eyes what Grandmam wants.”

Ivy pressed the play button on the VCR, then took her place next to Riley, who reached for her hand.

The family stared at the blank screen. The soft whirring of the machine was the only sound in the room. Billie's face flashed on the screen. She smiled a wan, weary smile before she clasped her thin hands in her lap. She was stick-thin, her eyes deep-set behind her tinted glasses. Ivy knew the preparations for this video must have taken a lot of time and effort on Billie's part. She was dressed in a meadow-green, flowing caftan with matching turban. Billie had designed the caftan, Ivy was certain, to hide her thinness.

The tinted glasses were new, a prop, Ivy felt, to hide the sunken hollows of her eyes and to draw less attention to her thin cheeks and sharp cheekbones.

A tear slid down Ivy's cheek. Riley leaned over and kissed it away. She snuggled deeper into the hollow beneath his arm.

Billie smiled and addressed each of them by name, then thanked them for leaving their lives to come to Sunbridge. Her smile was tired, but in place.

“As Thad always says, listen up, family. I had hoped to keep my condition a secret, but Cary's accident made that impossible. A secret to spare you. Perhaps I was wrong. If so, I apologize. You see, I love you all so much, so very much. When I first found out I was terminally ill, I wanted to run to each of you, to have you hug me, to hear you tell me things like ‘It will go away, it's just one opinion, they're making medical advances every day.' I realized I just wanted to fool myself.

“I know you're all weeping now. It's very hard for me to sit here in front of this camera . . . and not cry myself. But I promised myself that I'd be strong, that I couldn't go with any less dignity than my old friends who've gone before me. I ask myself over and over, how did Amelia leave us with such dignity, and yet with a sense of humor I still marvel at? I finally decided it was because she had all of us, was certain of our love. She told me ... she told me once near the end, that what bothered her most was what would happen to all of us. I assured her we were family and would always be there for one another. She . . . please wait just a minute while I ... wipe my eyes. She said she knew I would keep us all together, and then she thanked me for being . . . her friend . . . all those years.

“Shadaharu, who was a wonderful friend, simply said to me before his passing, ‘Life must go on.' And that's what I'm telling all of you now. I do not want any of you to grieve for me. What I want is for all of you to go on with your lives, remember me with love, and to visit me on the hill once in a while. I know there's a perch someplace in heaven, and ... and Amelia, Shad, and I will be sitting on it watching over all of you. If that sounds silly or unbelievable, allow me this last small indulgence. I am crying. I'm sorry, so very sorry. I think it's the medication, the steroids I'm taking.