Texas rich (21 page)

"Calm down, son. You're going off half-cocked. It's nothing like that and you know it. It's just that she's always sick. She was sick the day she got off the train and she's been sickly ever since. She always looks like she's about to puke or fadnt or something. I never see her eat, but she must have put on ten pounds for every month she's been with us. Still pretty enough. But sickly, and you know I've got no patience with mewling females."

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Sick. His Billie was sick and no one had told him. The car couldn't take him to the house quickly enough. He had to see for himself. From the beginning, Moss had had plaguing doubts about becoming involved with Billie. She was so young, so fresh and innocent. So trusting. And the two people she trusted most in the world—himself and Agnes—had betrayed her. Billie hadn't been ready for marriage, especially one where her husband preferred to be flying fighter planes. And he doubted she was ready to become a mother. It was like whelping a dog that hadn't come into her second season. The drain on her health and vitality could be devastating. Feeling guilty and worried. Moss sank into the plush seat of the limousine, only half listening to Seth as he explained in detail the new electronics division of Sun-bridge. Who gave a danm if there was a radar installations contract pending with Washington when his own selfishness and Agnes's greed had caused Billie's suffering?

Billie stood beneath the front portico watching the long black Packard come up the tree-lined drive. She huddled in her thick sweater, her heart pounding so fiercely she thought it could be heard miles away. She was dizzy with anticipation. Tears bumed her eyes when Moss leaped from the car before it came to a full stop. At that moment she would have given anything if she could have run to him, light and slim and girlish, just the way he'd left her.

Moss's shock beat at his brain. Lord, this couldn't be Billie! What had he done to her? The long dress she was wearing couldn't disguise her solid thickness. There would be no picking her up and carrying her up the long staircase. She looked puffy and ill. The old man hadn't been exaggerating.

Billie smiled and held out her arms. She had to trust that Jessica was right. Moss would swoop down on her and... and...

"Billie!" His arms were out but almost as if they were holding her at a distance. Her own outstretched arms dropped instantly to her side. He leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. A hurried public kiss. Billie kept smiling as she reached for his hand to walk indoors with him.

He'd been expecting so much. Wanted so much. Four days in the sack and then off into the wild blue yonder. Now it looked like he would get calluses on his ass from riding the range with Seth. Four days in the saddle could kill a man if he wasn't used to it. His eyes dropped down to Billie's hand clutching his. It seemed like a lot of flesh to him. The ring on

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her left hand was cutting into her finger. The long slender hands he remembered were now thick and swollen like overstuffed sausages. Jesus! It was his fault. She looked like this because of him. He had to talk to the doctor, Seth said he came nearly every day. What if something went wrong? "How do you feel, Bilhe?" It was a goddamn stupid question, but he had to say something.

"Actually, I feel better than I look," Bilhe lied brightly. "The doctor is keeping his eye on me."

At a loss for words, Moss drew Bilhe to him. "I'm sorry, Billie, that you have to go through this while I'm not here to be with you." A waterfall of guilt poured over and through him.

"Let's not talk about that. We have seven whole days to be together. I want to hear everything and I have so much to tell you. But first, why don't you run up and see your mother? She's been waiting for days and days to see you."

Moss smiled at Billie. It was a meaningless, empty smile, she thought, but somewhere in his eyes had been relief. Relief that he could escape her? When Moss charged up the stairs to visit with Jessica, BiUie turned to find Seth standing in the open doorway, the winter sun making a brilliant backdrop that threw him into shadow. She couldn't see his eyes but she felt them, hard and appraising. She was a disappointment, both to him and his son. And there was the mortal sin, being unworthy of his son.

Before Moss was home two hours he seemed to have fallen easily mto his old routines at Sunbridge. He'd cast off his uniform for boots, plaid flannel shirt, and tight cord trousers. The few minutes he'd spent with Jessica had ended with her promise to come downstairs for supper. Billie waited for him downstairs in the cozy little den off the dining room. A fire had been lit and was hissing pleasantly. When he finally found her, he was wearing a rugged sheepskin jacket. Kissing her perfunctorily, he announced he was going out for a short ride with Pap and would be back after lunch.

"You'll be okay, won't you?" he asked pohtely.

Why shouldn't she be okay? She'd been okay all this time at Sunbridge without him, hadn't she? Why should now be any different? "You go on with your father. I'll have you all to. myself after you get back." She tried for a brave and understanding smile that wasn't quite up to par. Moss's blue eyes

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studied her seriously and she knew he was about to say that riding with Seth would wait. Then his father appeared in the doorway.

"There you are, son. Grease your tail; we want to get back before the sun goes down. These old bones don't take to the cold like they used to."

"You go along. I'll be here when you get back," Billie said with more enthusiasm than she felt. She wanted Moss here with her, sitting beside her, touching her. His homecoming was like a dream. She still could hardly believe he was really here.

He kissed her again, a lingering caress on her mouth. "I won't be long, Billie. And you could use the time to get yourself all gussied up for me." He was gone.

Gussied up! What did he think? That she'd just rolled out of bed this morning and lumbered out under the portico to meet him? She was gussied up! Hairdo, makeup, new dress... Tears flowed down her plump cheeks. Of course he couldn't know about the painful preparations she'd made. She looked like a baby whale and her hair was too short. He didn't like it or else he'd have mentioned it. The baby moved within her; she imagined she could feel one tiny foot land a solid kick. "Not you, too!" she cried miserably.

Jessica appeared for dinner as she'd promised. Although she looked a bit wan and her usual sleek hairdo was a bit askew, her joy at having her son home for Christmas had put a bloom in her cheeks. In honor of Moss's arrival (or so she said, but Billie thought it was more to keep her own hostess gown from looking out of place), Jessica was wearing a long, simply tailored dress with a delicate niching of antique lace at the cuffs and a diamond brooch at the neck. It was violet, one of Billie's favorite shades, and although the style was a bit dated the velvet was still soft and lustrous.

Moss hovered near his mother's side, offering her a small glass of sherry. "Not for me, thank you, dear, but perhaps Billie could do with a drop."

Before Moss could ask Billie, Seth interjected, "Might improve her appetite! Little gal eats like a bird, mealtimes certainly can't account for..." His eyes flicked over Billie in embarrassment.

Billie flushed uneasily, feeling the color swim to the roots of her hair. Moss said, "Billie, what's this I hear about your

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finicky appetite? Don't you know you're supposed to be eating for two?"

At that moment, Agnes made her entrance in the doorway. "Like Seth says, she only nibbles at the table. Maybe she's got a hoard of chocolates under her bed." Her remark was softened by her presenting her cheek to Moss and welcoming him home. "I was in town when you arrived. Last-minute shopping. You look fit. Moss, but then you always do."

If Moss had been startled by the change in Billie's appearance, he was astounded by Agnes. The only term that came to his mind was chic. Very, very chic. Sunbridge certainly agreed with the old girl. Only Moss wasn't so sure "old girl" fit this new Agnes Ames. She'd done something with her hair—it was upswept to reveal a still youthful, graceful neck and over her forehead tumbled risque little curls. And hadn't she lost a few pounds, or was it only the slim, obviously expensive, silk dress she was wearing, long enough to be tasteful but short enough to show an elegant curve of leg? And what had she done with those sensible shoes she'd always worn? These open-toed high heels didn't belong to the Agnes he'd known in Philadelphia.

"You're the one who's fit, Agnes. You're stunning!"

Billie lowered her eyes but not before Jessica saw the pain in them. Moss should be complimenting his wife, telling her how beautiful she was to him as she carried their child. "Shouldn't we go into dinner, dear?" she asked Seth. "Tita must have everything ready to serve."

"Billie hasn't had her sherry," Seth countered, preferring to remain here in the living room, enjoying the drama taking place. He avoided his wife's glance. Let Aggie have her moment of glory, he thought. Moss was right; she was a stunning woman. He couldn't wait for Christmas morning when she opened his gift.

Moss handed Billie a tiny cordial glass of sherry and sat down beside her, his arm on the back of the sofa behind her. "Having a rough time of it, honey? You never said in your letters."

"I'm exhibiting every classic symptom of pregnancy and then some." Billie tried for lightness. Moss would find self-pity unbearable. "I've missed you so much," she whispered when he leaned over to kiss her cheek. The baby suddenly fluttered and she quickly placed her hand over her middle. "This child has a kick like a mule!"

Tenderly, Moss's hand followed Billie's and a look of won-

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derment came into his eyes. "Riley Seth Coleman, you're giving your mommy a hard time. You're going to deserve that slap the doctor puts on your bottom." Heads together, Billie cuddled against her husband, craving this tender support and love.

"Hurry up with that sherry, Billie. You heard what Jessica said. Tita has everything ready and Moss could use a good meal under his ribs." Seth broke the moment. His expression was intense, as though he were silently trying to convey a message to Moss.

"There's no romance about you, Pap." Moss laughed uneasily, taking his arm from around Billie and helping her to her feet. "You're right about the meal, though. Sea rations and powdered eggs were never my favorites."

Billie could have wept (tears came so easily these days). Why did there have to be so many people about? Why couldn't she have a minute alone with her husband?

"Why don't you ladies go into the dining room?" Seth suggested, hanging back with Moss. "Did you forget what I told you this morning?" he hissed as the others exited. "I don't want anyone taking chances with my grandson, not even you! Don't think for a minute I didn't know you were trading yourself off when you had yourself reassigned. A bargain is a bargain, son, and a Coleman stands by his word."

"Moss, Seth, where are you two?" Jessica's voice carried through the hall. "Come in here and eat."

After dinner, when they had all congregated once again in the spacious living room, Seth tried to spirit Moss away into the study but Jessica wouldn't allow it. "Now, Seth, don't be greedy with Moss's company. We still haven't heard how he got his hamburger."

"Meatball, Mam, and I'm proud to say there are five of them on my fuselage. I don't know whether you know it, but the Big E saw action in the Solomon Islands after Guadalcanal." Moss sat beside Billie, taking her hand in his.

"Kingsley was the guy who made marks that day," Mo^s told them. "He was on a predawn strike force and was the first to sight a Japanese transport, but he was reaching the point of no return—that's when you've got just barely enough fuel to get back to mother, I mean the carrier. Anyway, he didn't get a chance to do any shooting. He was ordered back to the ship, but the positions he gave were good enough to blast the Japs to the bottom. Tough break for Thad."

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"Hrmmph!" Seth punctuated. "Watch your step, son. This Yankee seems eager to me and likely to get ahead of you."

"So you said." Moss's tone was sour. "Pap, when I talk about Thad it's like I'm talking about myself. That's how proud I am of him. He's a good man, isn't he, Billie? Like Billie says, she danced with him at our wedding."

"Where's he from, this Yankee? Who's his family? What do they do?"

"Pap, I'm not Amelia out on her first date. You don't have to put my friends through the inquisition. Don't forget, I'm a big boy. Billie'll tell you, won't you, honey?"

Billie didn't like Moss putting her on the firing line with Seth. Besides, it was ridiculous to think that anything she could say would convince Seth of anything. After all, she was only "that little gal" to the patriarch. Agnes seemed to be the only woman whose opinion counted.

Jessica decided to retire early. The excitement of Moss's homecoming had proved to be a strain. "It's wonderful to have you home. Moss. I wish it were for good." There was a sadness in her eyes that went beyond worry for a soldier son at war.

Moss clasped Jessica's hand to his chest and leaned down to kiss her powdery cheek. "Someday soon it will be, Mam. Everything will be the way it used to be, only better. Have a good night and I'll come in to see you in the morning."

"I'll go up with you, Jessica," Billie offered, her gaze swinging to Moss. Surely after a few minutes he would follow.

After helping Jessica into her nightgown and tucking her into bed, Billie went to her room and gratefully removed her clothes. It was ironic that just months before she would have cheerfully died for a pair of silk stockings and now that they were a part of her daily wardrobe, she couldn't wait for evening to take them off. The garters cut into her thighs and her toes always felt squashed.

She ran a tub for a quick bath and donned one of the new nightgowns she'd purchased, topping it off with its matching peignoir of fme pale blue lace. Fondly she remembered sleeping nude with Moss or, at most, wearing one of his undershirts. The clinging cotton knit would never fit over her burgeoning belly now. She whipped a brush through her hair until it crackled and applied just a touch of cologne to her throat, wrists, and between her breasts. Then she waited for Moss. And waited. And waited.