Texas Heat (33 page)

“Who'm I gonna tell? She's my sister. She's the only one who ever cared about me.” Cole gulped. “What gets me is she didn't look sick to me. We had such a good time in New York. Now she's gonna die. I don't understand.”

“I don't understand, either. I was talking to my mother fifteen minutes before she was killed. I feel like you do. I don't have anyone, either, but my grandfather, and he's very old. Here in the United States I have no one but the Coleman family. I've been thinking about going back to Japan. That should make you happy.”

“Finally realized you don't belong,” Cole said coolly. “About time.”

“That's not why. I'd never let you drive me out.”

“I'd never stay someplace I wasn't wanted.”

“When it's you doing the wanting, it doesn't bother me.
If
I do decide to go home,” Riley said defiantly, “it won't be because of you.”

“I didn't come in here to discuss that. I came to talk about Sawyer. We get out of school the end of May. I thought maybe she'd like to go on a trip or take a vacation. We could go for the whole summer. I don't know anything about brain tumors, how she'll feel or anything. Do you?”

“No. We could call up a doctor and ask. Your mother would probably know.”

“I'm not asking my mother anything. Adam will know. He'll want to go, too. It'll be like Christmas. We could make all the plans and sort of spring it on her and Adam.”

“Who's this supposed to help? Them or us?”

“Us, you jerk. Nothing can help Sawyer. We're just gonna be her support system. But we're gonna need a lot of money. How much do you have?”

“In the bank or on me?”

“You are a jerk. In the bank. We'll need money for tickets and money to rent some place. I've never been to Hawaii. Have you?”

“Only on a layover on the way here from Japan. I think I have thirty-three hundred in the bank, maybe less. The statement didn't come yet and I took out a lot for Christmas. I can get some money from my grandfather if you tell me how much we need. How much do you have?”

“You must be kidding. I have fifty-six dollars and no place to get any more. It's up to you if we pull this off.”

“I knew there was a reason you came in here. I'm writing to my grandfather now. How much should I ask for?”

Cole sat down at Riley's desk and pulled out the calculator. “I've seen commercials on TV for flights to Hawaii. They quoted a $599 ticket, so that's $2,396 for the four of us. Maybe we can rent a condo. That's the off season for tourism in Hawaii, so let's say $1,500 a week. If we stay a month, it will be $6,000. We have to eat and see the sights, take in the other islands. Probably $5,000 on top of that. Figure a total of $25,396. My mother will give me some money, and I can squeeze some from the old man. Not a lot, though, so don't count on it.” Cole looked up anxiously. “Do you think your grandfather will send it?”

“When I tell the old one what it's for, he won't ask questions. What if we run short?”

“Then ask for a little more. If we don't use it all, you can send it back. Look, I'm sorry I can't contribute, but I can't draw on my trust fund till I'm twenty-one. You know how hard it is for me to get money out of my mother. If you don't want to go along with this, say so now.”

“I think it's a good idea. Sawyer will approve of what she calls our ingenuity. Adam'll probably be glad we took care of the details. The money isn't the problem. It's me and you that's the problem.”

“We'll call a truce. I don't get in your way and you don't get in mine. We managed at Christmas and we can do it again.”

“Okay. Truce.” Riley sighed. “Someday I hope you tell me what it is you have against me. I came here prepared to like you.”

Cole snorted. “Fat chance.”

“Right. And now that I've made you feel better, you can toddle off to your room and act like a man instead of a sixteen-year-old who thinks it's shameful to cry. When I hear from my grandfather, I'll let you know.”

“You aren't throwing me out. I'm leaving on my own.” Cole turned at the door. “By the way, I ... I called Adam. He said Sawyer went for a walk with Grand. He'll call us and keep in touch. I thought you might want to know.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Drop dead,” Cole muttered as he closed the door.

Riley sat with his chin cupped in his hand, staring at the door for a long time. It was really the first time Cole had come into his room and stayed to talk. Maybe they were making progress of a sort. He wished there was something he could do for Cole. How lonely he must be.

 

It was late; the bedroom lamps cast dim shadows into the corners of Maggie's bedroom. The house was asleep except for the two of them.

Maggie lay in the crook of Rand's arm, wide awake. He, too, was awake, staring at the ceiling. He liked the pressure of Maggie's dark head on his shoulder, liked the feel of her body pressing against his. If this was wrong, why did it feel so right, so good? It was crazy, but he felt like he'd finally come home after a long, long journey. They nurtured each other, loved each other, and he didn't want to lose what they'd found together. But it wasn't going to be up to him. He knew Maggie was sending him away. This was their last night together; he'd return to England tomorrow.

He'd tried to explain to Maggie that what happened to Sawyer wasn't their fault. The tumor had been there, growing, long before last July. Their loving each other hadn't caused it.

“But our loving each other is causing this pain!” she'd cried.

She'd listened to his arguments but hadn't heard a word he'd said. When he'd finished baring his soul, she'd looked at him with tears in her eyes and told him she'd miss him terribly. That she felt as though she were giving up a part of herself.

Now she lay in his embrace, her fingers tracing patterns down the length of Rand's arm. “I know you don't understand. I don't understand, either. It feels right to me, so I have to do it. I'm an expert at giving up things; it comes easy to me. I learned at an early age that it was expected of me. They all expect me to give you up now. I don't have any choice. Maybe someday ...” Her voice trailed off.

“Someday isn't good enough. What's been done is done. I'm not sorry. Maggie, we can't let the past rule our lives. We have to deal with the future and with today the best we can. My going back to England isn't going to change things. I know Sawyer. She'll never come back here.”

“I have to try. Somehow I—”

“It's too late, Maggie.”

“We have to go on from here. It's something I have to do alone. If you're here, I won't be able to do what I have to do.”

“What exactly are you going to do? What miracle are you going to perform to make things right? Tell me, Maggie, so I can understand.”

“I don't know, Rand. When I returned to Sunbridge, I thought my fighting days were over. I know now those little skirmishes were only preliminaries for the biggest fight of my life. And I have to win this one, not just for me but for Sawyer as well.”

Rand turned so he was facing Maggie, his face just inches from hers. “There are some things that can't be fixed, Maggie, things that are better left alone. You're going into a very volatile situation. You'll need me here for support.”

“It's true; I do need you, my darling, and that's the reason I'm sending you away. I can't allow myself the luxury of depending on you when the going gets tough. I have to start off like Sawyer—alone. Please, Rand, don't make this any harder on me than it already is. Pap told me once that you have to take responsibility for your own actions. That's what I'm trying to do. We'll talk to each other from time to time. I'll write; hopefully, you'll write back. I want us to be friends.”

“Maggie, I want to marry you.”

Maggie turned away. How she'd longed to hear those words! For the first time in her life she was loved with an intensity she could return ... and she had to give it up. What irony.

“I'll drive you to the airport in the morning.”

“That's your answer—I'll drive you to the airport?” Rand asked incredulously.

“It's the only answer for now.”

There were no arguments left. Rand gathered Maggie into his arms again and held her close. Memory after memory flashed before him. He tried to lock them in his mind for all the long, lonely months ahead. He knew Maggie was doing the same thing.

They slept in each other's arms, a light sleep full of dreams and promises.

 

 

Rand sat in the airport bar, an empty beer glass in his hand. He hadn't wanted the beer—any kind of drink, for that matter—but he couldn't sit and take up space without ordering.

He didn't like Kennedy Airport. It was too big. There were too many travelers, none of them smiling. And he'd never known it to fail yet: every damn time he hit Kennedy, his flight was delayed. This time, he had an hour to kill. An hour to think. If only he could forget.

A familiar scent teased Rand's nostrils. Sawyer's perfume. He looked around anxiously. He could almost feel her presence, yet he couldn't see her. He sniffed again. He wasn't imagining things—there she was! He'd been so deep in thought, he'd almost missed her. Billie was with her; they were walking from the lounge, their arms linked together. He left crumpled bills on the table and rushed out.

“Sawyer! Billie!”

Sawyer turned, her face alive and bright for a split second before it closed to blankness. Billie wore a startled expression. Neither spoke; neither greeted him.

“Hello,” he said warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm going back to Vermont,” Billie replied. “Sawyer decided to wait with me. What are you doing here?” “Going back to England. I'm sorry you couldn't make Christmas. We all missed you.”

“We were snowed in.” Billie lowered her eyes, made a show of rummaging through her purse, looking for something she knew wasn't there. Why didn't he go away and leave them alone? Surely he knew. Maggie would have told him.

“What time is your flight? Can I buy you both a drink? I have an hour to kill.” He cringed at the casual use of the word kill. He wanted to bite his tongue.

“No, thanks. Grand has only a few minutes till boarding. Have a nice flight, Rand.”

“It was nice seeing you, Rand,” Billie said quietly.

Rand watched their backs as they walked away from him. Well, what in the hell had he expected?

He waited until Sawyer returned from the security gate. When she saw him, she tried to avoid him, but he blocked her path.

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don't know why. You said everything there was to say at Christmastime. What makes today any different? I have to get home, Rand.”

“That's a lie and we both know it. Come into the lounge and sit with me for a few minutes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“I'm sorry, I have to go. I don't want a scene, but if you persist, I'll make one.”

“Sawyer, don't hate me. Please.”

“Hate? That word is probably right up there with love. Hand in hand, you know, like salt and pepper. When you're going to die—and don't pretend you don't know—that word takes on new meaning. There's only one person in this world I hate. And it isn't you.”

“That's what I want to talk to you about. You have it all wrong. Why won't you listen?”

“Because I don't care. That means I'm not interested. Why won't
you
listen to me?”

She turned her back and started to walk away. This time he didn't stop her.

 

As Rand was flying toward the shores of England, Sawyer lay on her bed, collapsed in tears. She was glad to be alone, glad Adam wasn't there to comfort her. She cried not for herself but for what she'd done to Rand. She'd left without giving him a shred of understanding, taking victory in the fact that he'd left Sunbridge and wasn't with Maggie. She'd deliberately hurt him, wanted to stun him and force him to carry her bitterness away with him. She wanted to punish him because he didn't love her. Was what she had done to him loving?

Hours later she awoke with a nagging headache and tried to sit up. The loft was too quiet. Adam was probably out running, she decided. He'd stayed pretty close these past days trying to bolster her. Steady-as-a-rock Adam. Who could blame him if he had cabin fever? She'd been just as steady, accepting the doctor's prognosis like a real trooper. She knew she was still in shock—half believing, half disbelieving. Other people got brain tumors. Other people died. But God, she was only twenty-six. A year wasn't enough time!

If it was all you had, it had to be long enough.

She fluffed up the pillows behind her head, picked up the notepad and pencil on her night table. Resign her job at the office. Money? Her bank account was healthy enough, no worry on that score. Her insurance was paid up. She had to change the beneficiary now; Cole, of course. Billie would understand. She'd make a will. Her stock to Cole and Riley. Little by little she'd dispose of her things so that when the time came and Adam had to clean out her part of the loft, he'd only have to deal with her clothes. Neat and tidy. Now it was down to basics.

What did she want? To be loved. To be wanted and needed. She wanted to share and laugh and possibly cry, but for the right reasons.

The biggest challenge of her life. Late into the night, when Adam thought she was asleep, she'd lain thinking about her grandfather Moss. He hadn't whimpered and whined when he was told he had leukemia. He'd had a time limit, too, and had used that time to work toward his dream. She herself had carried out that dream with her grandmother's help. How could she do less? She was, after all, a Coleman.