This Calder Sky (32 page)

As she entered the apartment, Maggie called out brightly, “Hello! Anybody home?” A happy squeal came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of running feet. Ty crossed the living room to greet her as fast as his stout little legs could carry him. He was almost a year and a half old—and all boy. Laughing, she swung him into her arms. “You never walk anymore, Ty. You always run.” She hugged him while he jabbered away an answer. “You're growing so fast,” Maggie sighed and drew her head back to look at him. “Have you been a good boy, Ty?” He regarded her silently with eyes that were decidedly brown.

“Of course he has.” It was Cathleen who answered, entering the living room. “How was the exhibit?”

Carrying Ty in her arms, Maggie walked over to the blue sofa and sat down. “Fascinating.” She tickled the little boy on her lap and watched him giggle while she continued to address her talk to her aunt. “Even when I don't understand some of the paintings, it's fascinating.” She laughed, sliding her aunt a rueful glance. “The symphonies, the opera, the ballet, and the art museums—all get confused in my mind sometimes. The terms are so new to me that I get surrealists, impressionists, and cubists all mixed up with counterpoints, fugues, and arias. I have so much to learn.”

“You'll learn,” Cathleen assured her. Then she said, “There was a letter for you in the mail today.”

“From Culley?” Maggie asked hopefully. “He hasn't
written since Christmas. I know he's been busy, but I'm beginning to worry about him.”

“It wasn't from your brother.” The envelope was on a side table. Cathleen brought it to her, a pleased look about her expression.

When Maggie saw the return address that was stamped on the envelope, she set Ty onto the floor and eagerly tore open the flap. “It's my high school diploma!” She proudly showed it off to Cathleen while she continued to stare at it herself. “Now I'll be able to go to college this fall. Did I tell you? Phillip thinks he'll be able to get me a scholarship. Of course, it will mean taking more tests to prove I'm scholastically capable, but I don't mind. Even if the university won't accept me, I can enroll in one of the community colleges.”

Maggie won the scholarship and enrolled at the university as a full-fledged student that fall. She received one short letter from Culley that summer, but his letters became less frequent. Mostly, they consisted of notes scribbled in a Christmas card or in the birthday card he mailed each August, with an occasional half-page letter sprinkled in between. Each of them contained some stinging reference to the Calders, a vow of retribution. They never allowed Maggie to push the past totally out of her mind.

She was busy, too. Between carrying a full load of classes at college, taking care of a growing and rambunctious boy, and showing and exercising Phillip's horses, she continued to avail herself of all the cultural entertainments Los Angeles had to offer. Sometimes she was accompanied by Phillip and Pamela, never Phillip alone. Often she was escorted by a classmate. Those were the occasions when she
usually dated, which wasn't all that often. She did attempt to follow Phillip's advice and go out with men closer to her own age. Few of them impressed her, but a couple of them had been a lot of fun. She had discovered that passion could be a manufactured emotion.

It was only with Phillip that she felt safe and comfortable. He was a good influence on her, able to turn aside her temper and make her laugh. They usually rode together in the early morning, schooling and exercising his show horses. Sometimes he talked about his work and the built-in rewards that came from taking something scarred and broken and repairing it. It seemed that's what he was doing with her. As a plastic surgeon, his skills were renowned in medical circles. Maggie admired, trusted, and respected this man, and the physical attraction remained, too.

It was the same for him. She knew it because she had frequently observed the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching. When they were in a crowd during a theater intermission, there was always something possessive in the way he touched her and kept her by his side. Maggie was tempted many times to use the feminine wiles she had learned and ignite the desire smoldering under his smooth surface. She didn't because she remembered the kind of talk that had circulated about her and Chase. Phillip was so sensitive about their age difference that she knew it would be the first thing the gossip-mongers picked on. She cared about him too much to have people making cutting remarks behind his back. So she bided her time.

Tears shimmered in her green eyes as she clutched the college diploma in one hand and hugged the dark-haired five year old boy who had wound his
arms around her neck, and smacked a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Congratulations, Mommy.” Ty struggled over the long word, but he pronounced it correctly. He was big for his age, with a large-boned frame that indicated he would grow much taller. His hair was brown, not black, partially bleached by the California sun, and his eyes were brown, but Maggie shut her mind to the child-softened resemblance to Chase Calder. Ty was
her
son.

“Thank you.” She kissed the air near his cheek because he hated it when her lipstick left a red mark on him. Still bending down to his height, she drew back to look at him and smiled. “Who told you to say that?”

“Pip.” He had never quite managed to twist his tongue around Phillip when he was learning to talk. It had long ago been shortened.

She glanced up to meet the warm pride in his expression, but when she unwound her son's arms from around her neck and straightened, it was her aunt whom she embraced. This kind, gentle woman who had taken her in, never asking any questions, never offering any recriminations for the illegitimacy of Ty's birth, and always treating Maggie like her own daughter, an uncomplaining woman so very much like her sister—Maggie's mother, who had wanted above all else for Maggie to have a good education. Now it had happened.

“I know your mother is very proud of you, Elizabeth.” Cathleen cried softly—as she did everything else.

Her thoughts, too, had taken the direction Maggie's had gone. There was a lump in her throat, which didn't allow more than a lovingly stressed, “Thank
you,
Cathleen.”

Her aunt hugged her close once more, then moved
back. “I only wish your brother was here to see you. Do you suppose he didn't get the plane ticket you sent him?”

“Culley … was probably too busy. There's a lot of work to be done on a ranch at this time of year.” She made his excuses for him. She had wanted Culley to be here to share this moment with her, but she also realized that he would feel out of place in these surroundings, uncomfortable. Perhaps he knew that. Or perhaps he was really busy. That was more than likely the reason, but she couldn't help wishing he was here. Turning, she bent down to press her cheek against Pamela's. The lovely blonde was stunning, as usual, dressed in a long pink gown that flowed softly down the front of the wheelchair. Maggie had lost some of her illusions about Pamela. The woman had been so helpful and instructive, but Maggie was accepted by Phillip's sister because of Ty. She doted on Maggie's son. Ty even called her “Aunt” Pam.

“Congratulations, Elizabeth.” Her smile was charming, yet no more than pleasant.

“Thank you, Pamela.” Her heart was pounding as she glanced at Phillip, standing attentively by his sister's wheelchair. His steel-gray hair had turned to silver at the temples, but he looked vigorously handsome, so tall and lean and suntanned. “You look very
distingué,
Phillip,” Maggie said, practicing a little of the French she now spoke fluently. “It seems I've saved the best until last.” She held out her left hand to him, which he took to draw her forward. “Thank you, for everything.”

“This is a proud day … for all of us.” He appeared to add the last to cover the intensity of his regard.

She stood quietly before him, letting him look her over while she radiated a sense of serene confidence. She wore her black hair in a shoulder-length cut that
was styled to enhance its tendency to wave. Makeup, artfully and subtly applied, heightened all her best features—softening her strong cheekbones and flattering the brilliant green of her eyes with their sooty lashes. Bold red lipstick outlined the soft contours of her lips. Maggie knew she looked chicly adult and carried herself with an air of maturity.

When he bent his head toward her, she was disappointed when he only brushed his mouth against her cheek. “Haven't I earned more than a peck on the cheek?” she chided and leaned up to bring her lips against his.

His hands moved to hold her shoulders and maintain her position while a pleasant fire warmed her blood. Their lips clung together for only a short span of seconds, but the kiss bridged the four years of anticipation and made the long wait worthwhile. A soft glow filled her expression when she leaned away.

“Pip has Mommy's lipstick on his mouth.” Ty laughed and pointed.

“It tastes good,” Phillip assured him as he removed the linen handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe the red from his mouth. He accomplished it with a certain panache that indicated a pride in the action, as if he, too, had waited for a reason to wipe off her lipstick.

The reference to taste reminded Ty of something else. “Can we go, Mommy? Aunt Cath'een made cake and candy and everything. It might spoil if we don't go home.”

“It certainly might.” She laughed in agreement.

“Wait here,” Phillip instructed and added with a wry lift of an eyebrow, “I'll see if I can find the car.”

In addition to the cake and tea—milk for Ty—there were gifts waiting for her in the Gordons' home. Before Maggie had a chance to open them, a special-delivery
telegram arrived from her brother. She signed for it and tore open the envelope.

It read:

MAGGIE—CONGRATULATIONS. SORRY I COULDN'T COME. ALWAYS KNEW YOU COULD DO IT. WE'LL SHOW THEM CALDERS YET.

CULLEY

The Calder name trespassed onto even this special day.

Later that evening, after Maggie had put Ty to bed, she told her aunt she was going out for a walk, explaining there had been too much excitement that day for her to go to sleep. Cathleen agreed that a walk was what she needed.

A light was burning in the tack room window of the stable. Maggie had half-guessed and half-hoped it would be Phillip. When she entered, the aromatic blend of pipe smoke and saddle soap greeted her first. Phillip was staring at a photograph on the wall, one of her riding his black jumper, Sable. He was dressed in gray, a color that suited him so well, a pearl-colored shirt, and charcoal-gray trousers in the hugging, Continental style. He turned to face her as she approached.

“Do you remember the pact we made four years ago?” She stopped in front of him.

“I remember it very well, Elizabeth.” There was a husky pitch to his voice, but he was still wearing the mask that concealed his thoughts whenever she was near.

“Nothing has happened to change the way I feel.” Before he could say it, Maggie did. “And don't tell me that you're old enough to be my father, because it
doesn't make any difference. So what are we going to do about it?”

A suggestion of a smile spread slowly across his expression. “I think a man is entitled to make a fool of himself over a woman at least once in his life. Why don't you come kiss this old fool?”

With a soft, exultant laugh, she glided into his open arms and lifted her mouth to his descending lips. The kiss was firm in its possession, claiming what had been his for a long time. If it lacked spontaneous fire, his experience at arousing a response more than made up for it. Besides, Maggie had been burned by her affair with Chase, an affair sparked by combustible chemistries. She wasn't seeking that sexual volatility with a man. She wanted something safe and solid, a relationship that would be the complete antithesis of the one she'd known with Chase. Phillip's lovemaking offered her that, his kiss arousing her without ever overpowering her.

When he began to trail tantalizing kisses over her face, she closed her eyes in sheer contentment. Her hands lay quietly on the lean wall of his chest, feeling the erratic pattern of his heartbeat. His arms offered her a safe haven. They promised security, comfort, devotion—all the things she was seeking. He was the father she'd never had; the friend she'd never known.

“I love you, Phillip.” The words came easily from her lips.

His exploring mouth lingered near the corner of hers, a shudder running through him. “I've waited so long to hear you say that, my darling, so long.” He kissed her, confidently, surely.

She wanted no fire or flame, only a heady glow. Her hands caressed no brawny muscle, only trim, lean flesh. She preferred skill to raw passion. She wanted no man in her arms to remind her of Chase Calder—no ghost
from the past to confuse her about who she was with in the present, so she was not disappointed. She was overjoyed that she had found the very person she had been seeking, someone she could care about emotionally, and who could provide an outlet for her sexual needs.

Her lounge chair was situated in the shade of a tree so Maggie could escape the heat of a July sun and still watch Ty playing cowboys and Indians on the lawn. She glanced at the brief letter on her lap, but her attention was distracted by the heavy diamond ring on her finger, the engagement ring Phillip had given her.

The wedding was to take place in September, which was the earliest Phillip could arrange to take a month off from his surgical schedule so they could have a proper honeymoon. Maggie had suggested that they marry now and go on a honeymoon later, but he had rejected that plan, insisting he wanted to do it the old-fashioned way—the wedding, followed immediately by a honeymoon. Maggie was certain she was correct in suspecting his true motive was to give her these summer months to reconsider, but she had absolutely no doubts about her decision to marry him.