CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The first day of May was all an early spring day should be. The new grass was a tender green, the windswept sky a vital blue, and the air fragrant with Grandmam Jessica’s early roses.
It was a perfect day for traveling. Maggie’s bags were packed and ready to be put in the car. Cole joked that it looked like a mountain of Louis Vuitton. Despite her high spirits, however, Maggie dreaded her stopover in New York. Eight hours to see and talk to Sawyer before she went to Hawaii. Eight hours to try to set things right when a lifetime hadn’t been enough.
She checked her purse. Airline tickets, travelers’ checks, a full line of credit from the bank in case the cost of refurbishing the house was more than she anticipated. Car rental reservation, a map of the island, directions to the Kamali house. She had everything she needed. Everything except Rand. He came to mind suddenly, as he always did, when some foolish thing or word reminded her of him. She’d sent him away and hadn’t returned. She couldn’t even find it in her heart to blame him. How could he know, how could he trust, that she knew her own mind and now had the courage to follow her heart?
Maggie snapped her handbag shut and turned to Cole and Riley. “I’m not going to lecture you or beg you to behave while I’m gone. I trust you. Both of you. If you know what’s right, you can’t do wrong. Remember that. Don’t bring shame on Sunbridge.”
She embraced both boys, lingering a moment longer with Cole, looking deeply into his eyes. She smiled at what was reflected there and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll call after I see Sawyer. So stick around, okay?” She looked around at the gentle slope rising behind the house, at the fair expanse of lawn and the miles of white fencing creeping off into the distance. “I hate leaving here. I love it so.”
“You’ll be back before you know it,” Susan said cheerfully. “Good luck, Maggie. But don’t expect too much. Some things can never change.”
Maggie smiled at her sister, then leaned in close. “C’mon, Jessie, give Aunt Maggie a big buss.” The infant gurgled happily in Susan’s arms. “Take care of things, Suse. So long, guys.”
Cole watched the big limousine take his mother down the drive. She seemed to be taking something with her.
It was Susan who noticed Cole squinting up at the sky. “You still don’t get it, do you? Maggie is the sunshine. She just took a little bit of it with her.”
Adam Jarvis sprinted down the stairs to answer the bell. He looked through the peephole. “Oh, Jesus!” It was Maggie. He recognized her at once from the pictures Sawyer used to carry in her wallet. That had been many years ago, but there was no mistaking the shining dark hair and summer blue eyes, or the striking resemblance to Sawyer. He sighed deeply and opened the door. “Mrs. Tanner. I’m Adam Jarvis.”
“Hello, Adam. I was hoping to see Sawyer. Is she at home?”
Adam hesitated. “Yes, she’s up there. I was just on my way out to jog.” He wavered as a thought struck him. “Mrs. Tanner . . . before you go up, could we go down to the corner and have a cup of coffee? There’s something you should know.”
Maggie walked beside Adam to the coffee shop, in reality a Jewish delicatessen complete with the tantalizing aromas of cured meats and garlic pickles. Adam found them a table and held the chair for her. Maggie was quite taken with him, aside from knowing how much Billie liked this young man. He was near Sawyer’s age and she knew, already quite successful. Tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking, and with such an expression of tenderness in his eyes that she wondered how Sawyer was able to resist him. He loved Sawyer; Billie had said so, and now Maggie could see it for herself.
“I don’t want to be there when you see Sawyer,” Adam said abruptly after he’d ordered two coffees. “Okay, so I’m a coward, but she’s been putting me through hell and I don’t know how much more I can take.” Those broad shoulders seemed to slump, his chin lowered to his chest. “I guess I’ll take whatever she wants to dish out, won’t I? It’s no secret. I’m crazy about her.”
Maggie stretched her hand over the table and touched Adam’s. “Yes, it’s pretty evident how you feel. Adam, I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t drag you down here to get your sympathy, Mrs. Tanner.”
“Maggie, please.”
“Maggie, there’s something you must know. Sawyer’s going to be livid when she finds out I’ve told anyone, but that’s a chance I have to take. She’s had tests, more tests. We went to the Sloan-Kettering Institute, where they do a lot of experimental work. The group of doctors there have reached the conclusion that Sawyer’s tumor might be operable. They give her a twenty percent chance of success.”
Maggie’s eyes brightened with joy and relief. “That’s hope, real hope!”
“Not according to Sawyer. She refuses to have the surgery.”
“Why? I can’t believe—”
“I don’t know why, and I don’t much give a damn what her reasons are!” he exploded. All the worry and concern, all the defeat, everything he felt was there on his face, in the agonized tone of his voice. “She swore me to secrecy, but I had to tell someone. We’ve been arguing for days.”
“This is stupid. I’ll have to call her grandmother. If anyone can talk some sense into her, Mam can. When do they want to operate?”
“As soon as Sawyer will allow it. Fortunately, that thing in her head is growing slowly, but there’s no doubt it will be fatal if she doesn’t do something.”
“You want me to talk to her?”
Adam nodded, his eyes glazing with tears. “I love her, Maggie. But she’s so filled with resentments and hates, she wants to punish the world. It’s almost as if she wants to die to get even with everyone who’s ever hurt her. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Maggie told him sadly. “But these things never do. C’mon, walk me back to the loft. Then you can go for your jog. I think I should see Sawyer alone.”
Lugging the carry-on bag over her shoulder, Maggit climbed the stairs and let herself into the apartment. It was a beautiful loft. A loving place. She could feel it.
She walked around slowly until she found the dining area. Sawyer was at the table having coffee, dressed in a lavender sweat shirt and jeans. It was impossible to believe she wasn’t in the best of health. Her golden hair was shining, her skin clear and luminescent in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She registered no surprise when she looked up and saw her mother.
“Slumming?”
“Hardly. This is a beautiful home you’ve made here with Adam.”
“Why are you here? What do you want? Whatever it is, I’m all tapped out.”
“Sawyer, I want to talk, about us.”
“You’re a little late, Mother.” Sawyer was trembling so inside, she had to use both hands to hold her coffee cup.
“You aren’t going to help me, are you?”
“You’re right about that. I told you, it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. Look, Sawyer, I won’t beg you. All I can do is ask that you try to understand. I’m sorry—”
“Sorry!” Sawyer laughed, a bitter sound that sent chills down Maggie’s back. “Who’s that supposed to make feel better? Me? You? Go get absolution somewhere else.”
“Look, Sawyer, I can’t undo what’s past, but I want to try to . . . to at least have an understanding with you. The past is gone; the future isn’t here yet—all we have is the present. Why can’t we work on that?”
“For some reason that doesn’t make me feel better. I’m going to die. I won’t be in your life anymore. That shouldn’t bother you. It never bothered you before. I hate you,” Sawyer cried vehemently. “Don’t you understand that?
“And you know something else? I’d have worked my butt off to get Cole away from you. You won that round, too. You always win, Maggie. You’re a bitch—a living, breathing bitch. If someone has to die, it should be you.”
Maggie flinched at the hatred in Sawyer’s eyes and the venom dripping from her tongue. But she didn’t turn away. “I thought the same thing,” she said quietly. “That I should be the one to go. I did make life miserable for everyone. If you’d let me try to explain... maybe you could . . .”
“Forgive you? Never. I don’t know a lot about motherhood, but I know this: either you’re a mother or you aren’t. You never even bothered to pretend.”
“Everything you’ve said is true. Maybe I am a bitch. But as long as you want to fight in the gutter, let’s tell it like it is, okay? I did hate you, but it was a crazy kind of hate all mixed up with love I didn’t understand. For God’s sake, I was only a child myself. What did I know about babies? You got it all. You got to live at Sunbridge; I was sent away. You had everything that should have been mine. You had Mam. You helped bring Pap’s dream to life. I couldn’t share any of that. You were loved, doted on. I was the outcast. Everything that should have been mine was given to you.”
Sawyer’s voice was filled with ice. “No good, Maggie. It’s all bullshit. The only thing I ever wanted was you. You couldn’t be bothered. What was your excuse when you were finally on your own?”
Maggie spread her hands. “It was too late. Mam filled my shoes. I had to live with that. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of you. Most of them I spent hating you; I admit that. I fed off that hatred for a long time, just the way you’re doing now. I understand. Maybe, in some small way, I can help.”
“I don’t want your help. I don’t want anything from you except to be left alone. You have it all now. Grand, Sunbridge, Rand, Cole. Even Riley thinks you’re the best thing since peanut butter. They just don’t know you. You said I was a thief, that I stole your life from you. What about you? You just walked in and took over. Man-eater Maggie. Get out of here and don’t ever come back.”
Maggie stood her ground. “If you’re referring to Rand, let’s get one thing straight right now. I didn’t snatch him from you. If you want to be crude about it, he dumped you. And he had his own reasons for doing it, Sawyer—Rand and I were nothing more than friends at the time. Later on ... yes. I did go to bed with him. Several times, as a matter of fact. The first time was out of anger, anger with you. I had your man, the one who dumped you. At the time I thought you had your whole life ahead of you, that one rejection wasn’t going to kill you. I was still hating, you see, even then. But he made me take a good long look at my feelings. And when I did, I saw that I cared for him. But I didn’t want the wrath of God coming down on me, so I sent him away. And that’s the truth.
“You say you want honesty. You want truth, right? Okay. Well, now I’m going to give you some more. Mam said if Rand made me happy, I should go after him. She told me I deserved to be happy. I couldn’t believe it at first. I love that man, Sawyer, but I sent him away because of you. Everything is always because of you. I’d cut off my right arm to keep you alive if I could. Rand loves me; honest-to-God loves me. But I was willing to give him up. Hell, I did give him up. I wrote to him afterward, but he hasn’t answered. That should make you happy. He doesn’t want me either now. I did not steal him from you.”
“I loved him, too,” Sawyer said through clenched teeth.
“Sometimes that isn’t enough. Rand loved you, but in a different way. I tried to be jealous of that, but I understood. The commitment two people make has to be strong, unshakeable. I never had it—and I flubbed up just when it was within my grasp.” She smiled bitterly. “I always fail. Surely you’ve noticed that. Whatever I touch seems to wither and die. I couldn’t be a mother to you because I knew I’d fail you. And that’s the best, most honest explanation I can give you. Now that my guts are hanging out to dry, I have something I want to leave with you.” Maggie tossed her carry-on bag across the floor to Sawyer.
“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” Sawyer said flatly. “I don’t want your garbage invading the place I live.”
Maggie’s eyes brimmed. “I can’t say as I blame you. But don’t be too quick to discard what’s in that bag. It’s my life. Up until last evening. You can make today’s entry, any way you want. I have a plane to catch. If there’s anything you need or want, call me.”
“I’d die before I called you.” The realization of what she’d just said made Sawyer bite down on her lip. She tasted her own blood. She could barely see Maggie through her tears, but she heard her voice before the door closed behind her.
“A twenty percent chance is better than no chance at all. You’re a quitter. I used to be like that. You don’t like me, don’t want to be like me, yet you’re doing just what I used to do—give up, don’t fight. Blame everything on someone else. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: You have no guts. You say you care about Cole; you say you care about Mam, but it’s a lie. If you did care, you’d fight.
“Twenty percent. Some people don’t even get that. I can’t believe you’d use your own life to get back at me. That’s sick. You’re trying to make us all guilty. Well, it won’t work with me. If you need my help, you know where I am. Call me.”
Sawyer screamed, “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d rather die than call you!”
“Then you probably will,” Maggie said evenly.
“You bitch!” Sawyer screamed again. “You can’t fix this. You can’t go back and make it right!”
“It’s taken me all my life to realize that. I’m glad you finally do. Good-bye, Sawyer.”
“Go to hell!” Sawyer yelled. “Go to hell, goddamn you!”
“I’m already there,” Maggie whispered to herself as she made her way down the narrow steps.
Sawyer paced the apartment, wishing Adam were there. Marble followed her, her tail swishing furiously as she tried to rub against Sawyer’s leg.
The nerve, the gall, the unmitigated gall of Maggie. How dare she come here and . . . and... Why had she come? To offer help, to pity her. To tell her Rand didn’t want her, either. Was that supposed to make them friends?
No guts. It was true; she had no guts. A fifteen to twenty percent chance for success. Why bother? An accident on the operating table wasn’t her idea of the best way to end her life. Even worse, what if she lived through the operation but came out a vegetable? It could happen. Still, if the operation was a success, she might live to see Cole grow to manhood. Riley, too. Maybe someday she could fall in love again. She might even get the chance to dance on old Maggie’s grave.
“Get away from me, cat. I’m trying to think, and I have enough trouble without you crawling up my—” Sawyer broke off as she saw the bag. She bent down to pick it up, surprised at the weight. She unzipped the nylon bag and looked inside. Diaries. Old Maggie was really pulling out all the stops now. Well, wasn’t she going to be surprised when she found out they’d been burned.
Breathing heavily, Sawyer hefted the bag and carried it to the fireplace. She was shaking the little books from the bag when Adam walked in.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
“Burning Maggie’s life. She must be out of her mind to think I’d want to read about her trashy life! Where are the matches?”
“We ran out,” Adam lied. “Don’t do it, Sawyer. If you don’t want to read them, okay, but don’t destroy them. I’ll pack them up and mail them back.”
Sawyer’s foot kicked out, scattering the different-colored journals. She was pleased to see a fine dark ash settle all over them. “Go ahead. I have to leave now. I have an appointment with Nick.”
Adam looked up at Sawyer from his crouched position, one of the coffee-colored books in his hand. Sawyer noticed his thumb tracing the word “Diary” on the cover. “I didn’t know you were seeing Nick,” he said softly. “I’m glad.”
“I’ll probably stop after this visit. I don’t like opening old wounds. I’m going to die, so what’s the point?”
“You have a choice. Twenty percent isn’t great odds, but—”
“Fifteen to twenty percent is what the doctor said. No guarantees. I could end up a slobbering idiot. Will you let me live here then? Will you wipe the spittle from my chin? Will you spoon-feed me? Will you put diapers on me if I wet my pants? Will you be able to look in my eyes and see nothing?. . . Well?” Sawyer demanded cruelly. “Answer me, Adam.”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying,” she said, but she knew in her heart he wasn’t. He would do all those things.
“Keep feeding on your hatred, Sawyer,” he said. “Just don’t direct it at me. Direct it where it belongs, at yourself. Go on, see Nick, try to fool him. Or try to help yourself if you have the guts.”
“You sound just like my mother. What do any of you know about guts? Neither of you ever had a death sentence.”
“That’s true,” Adam said, zipping the carry-on bag. “But you’re copping out. You have a choice, and I’m going to jam that choice down your throat every chance I get. There’s a lot of things I don’t like in this world, but the one thing I cannot stand, cannot tolerate, is a quitter. You’ve got all of us plugging for you. The best doctors, the best medical care, the best goddamn support system in the world. But you—you’re in a cold secret place full of hate and darkness. This is your ultimate end: get Maggie where it hurts. Die. Make her pay. Make her live with it every day after you’re gone. But there’s a kicker here. If everything you say about Maggie is true, she really doesn’t give a shit, does she? She wins, but what does she win. Sawyer? She has it all now. So you won’t really be getting back at her, will you?” He turned away, dismissing her. “Now get out of here before I really get mad. Nick charges for missed appointments.”
Adam picked up the phone when he heard the downstairs door slam shut. He was breathing as if he’d just run five miles.
“Nick? Adam. Listen...”
All the way to Hawaii, Maggie brooded about her meeting with Sawyer. By the time she disembarked from the L1011, she was a bundle of nerves, exhausted and drained of all emotion.
A rented Chevy station wagon was waiting for her, and she wasted no time settling herself behind the wheel. She turned on the engine and listened. It sounded tinny, kind of like a Ford sounded in the States. She tested the windshield wipers and horn, checked to see that the lights were where they were supposed to be. Automatic transmission. Everything seemed to be just fine.
According to the map, she should head for the north shore. She drove carefully, following the turnoff for a route through Kunia. The narrow road made her uneasy. It was very close to the Waianae Mountains and ran through endless fields of what looked like pineapple and sugarcane fields.
She was feeling more confident when she led the car through Haleiwa. She ignored the bridge to the north and turned left, past the harbor to the shore.
Maggie gasped in pure delight at her first glimpse of Hawaii’s famous surf. The ocean was so blue it looked like a giant jewel. The waves were breaking clean, eight to ten feet high. Native Hawaiians were scattered all along the shore, stretching out fishing nets. Children were gathering shells, their honey-colored skin shimmering in the bright sunlight. It was so beautiful she wanted never to leave, but she had at least an hour’s drive ahead of her.
She almost missed the turnoff. Lush hibiscus and a monstrous banyan tree, like a giant umbrella, shrouded the timeworn iron gates at the entrance to Ester Kamali’s estate. The snakelike drive eventually widened and became circular, edged on both sides by regal palms standing sentinel. The house itself was long, low, and sprawling, and much in need of paint. But the sparkling Pacific was exquisite, a perfect backdrop. Maggie felt her breath hiss between her teeth.
She stopped the car and glanced down. The grass looked like dark green fur, recently trimmed. Impulsively, she kicked off her shoes and walked up to the house. She knocked on the door and then laughed, remembering no one lived here. She tripped back across the emerald meadow to get her purse, savoring the scent of plumeria.
Maggie slid the key in the lock, then panicked for a moment when it didn’t turn. She tugged furiously, perspiration dotting her brow. When she heard the cooperative snick of rusty tumblers, she leaned against the wall in relief.
The hilltop house opened its arms to Maggie. It was large, yet not overlarge, and it gave her a cozy feeling of coolness and light. She worked busily, ripping off dust covers and dropping them in a heap in the middle of the floor. Every door opened to the outside. The French doors leading to the patio were sheltered from the sun and rain by the sloping overhang of a tiled roof. Beautiful gardens were part of every view and seemed to come indoors to blend with the light bamboo furniture and the vivid greens and whites of the walls. Graceful paddle fans were centered on every ceiling, creating a pleasant breeze. And the tang of the sea far below seemed to fill each room.
Maggie toured the house, removing dust covers as she went along. She felt refreshed by the scented sea breeze that billowed the sheer curtains when she opened the doors. The carpet in the bedroom was eggshell white, bringing into relief the dark tones of the native mahogany furnishings. The bed, headboard, and upholstered chairs were covered with a fabric of pale blue flowers scattered over a background of deeper blue. Here, too, a paddle fan beat the air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
She crossed to the bathroom to find a tiled bath complete with tub, shower, and expanse of mirrors. Dusty towels of the palest blue hung from the racks.
Everything was so beautiful. She tried the water faucet. Good, the water had been turned on.
As she made her way back to the car to drive it up to the garage, Maggie wondered how it was possible to have two such beautiful homes in a lifetime. She tugged at the garage door, but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t matter, she decided; the car could stay in the driveway.
She carried in her bags and headed for the kitchen. In the refrigerator she found juice, eggs, a loaf of untouched bread, bacon, and a bowl of mangos. She wondered who her unknown benefactor was—probably the same person who had turned on the utilities and manicured the lawn.
She poured herself a glass of orange juice and toured the rooms again, this time paying careful attention to what had been done. All the rooms would have to be painted, draperies and carpets cleaned. Everything had to be washed and polished, and the outside would have to be scraped and painted. So many things would have to be supplied or replaced—cookware, bedding, appliances ... Maggie sighed. Not today, though. Today was for savoring this paradise. A pity she wasn’t going to be able to share it with Sawyer. But at least she’d be making everything perfect for her daughter. And then maybe, just maybe, Sawyer would rethink her decision. How could a person give up things like this in life? Perhaps the island would work some magic. She prayed it would.
Maggie fixed herself a light supper and spent the rest of the evening on the back lanai, drinking in the scent of the rich flowers. Jet lag claimed her at nine-thirty and she headed for bed.
She slept deeply and awoke at seven o’clock. She padded barefoot to the kitchen and made a cup of instant coffee, carrying it out to the back terrace to watch the graceful swell of the waves on the shoreline. In her whole life she’d never seen anything so beautiful. She could almost picture her mother and father here. How happy they must have been! And Thad—Thad was part of all this, too. Now she could talk to Mam about that time in her life.
When she’d had her fill of the Pacific jewel, Maggie reluctantly returned to the kitchen. Phone. She couldn’t do anything without a phone. She picked up the white receiver and was rewarded with the buzz of the dial tone. Thank God. Now she could begin.
Twenty-one days later, the house was finished, inside and out. Maggie looked in her checkbook. She’d shelled out twenty-eight thousand dollars. But she didn’t care; she would have spent three times that much.
The pantry was loaded with every staple available, the deep freeze filled with a side of beef. Maggie washed the crystal and dishes herself, piece by piece, then dried it all the same way. The only thing left for her to do was engage a housekeeper for the time the children would be here. One of the cleaning girls had said her aunt would be glad to take on the job.
Maggie walked through the rooms, delight written all over her face. Cole, Riley, Adam, and Sawyer were going to love this place. She opened a fresh bottle of wine and poured some into one of the fine crystal wineglasses she’d just bought. She toasted her efforts. Then she called Susan.
“It’s done, Suse. I took pictures. Now I’m feeling at loose ends with nothing to do and I’m beginning to worry about the boys.” Susan’s silence alarmed Maggie.
“What’s doing with Ben and Luana?” Maggie asked, testing the waters.
“Everything’s going fine,” Susan said, satisfied she could report truthfully. “The boys are behaving themselves—sort of an armed truce, if you know what I mean. I haven’t seen much of Luana, thank the Lord. I’d really hate to lose Ben Simms at this stage of the game. Those modular units that Ferris and I ordered are going to be delivered by the end of the summer when all the foundation work is done. A representative from the company came down to check on the work. He told me how lucky I was to have such a conscientious man working for me. Everything that should be level is level, and all the corners are square.”
“That’s nice, Suse.” Maggie hoped her voice conveyed some kind of enthusiasm. “About Luana, though. Do you know if Mr. Simms hired a tutor for her?”
“No,” Susan confessed, “but he’s joined the church, and Luana goes to Bible class on Sunday. They both attend services, of course. He . . . he asked if we’d rent out the apartment to him when his work is done, but I told him there would always be work at the camp as long as he wanted it.” Susan hesitated. “I hope that’s okay, Maggie. I really do need him. You know our funds are limited.”
“I know, I know,” Maggie said wearily. She was getting a headache. “As long as Luana stays away from the boys and they stay away from her.”
“Trust me,” Susan said.
“I do, but I get all queasy whenever I think about the situation. I guess I’m not as much of a freethinker as I thought.”
“You’re Maggie.” Susan laughed. “I got a letter from Aunt Amelia the other day. She says she’s well and coming to terms with things, whatever that means. And didn’t I tell you Rand was in the country with her? That’s where you should have mailed your letter, Maggs. Amelia said Rand was working too hard and holding long telephone conferences with his bankers and lawyers. Something about dissolving his interests in several companies without causing a run on the stock. I didn’t understand what she meant. No other mention, Maggie. I’m sorry.”
A long silence. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears.
“Cary stopped by last week wanting to know if we’d heard from Amelia. Of course, I hadn’t received her letter yet. He looked awful. I don’t think he eats or sleeps. I can’t believe Amelia is behaving so childishly, and I’m going to tell her that when I write.”
“We all do what we have to,” Maggie said softly.
“When do you plan to come home?”
“I think I’m going to stay on here another week or so and enjoy this place. Suse, it’s so beautiful, it takes your breath away. First I’m just going to hang out on the beach. And then I might visit Diamond Head and take in Waikiki. I may even consider a side trip to Maui. I’ll call you before I leave.”
“I wish you weren’t alone. I don’t like being alone. That’s why I’m so glad Ferris is in my life.” Susan hesitated, then said shyly, “Maggie, he’s asked me to marry him once I’m divorced.”
“Oh, Suse! If it’s what you want, I’m happy for you,” Maggie said sincerely. “Any news on Jerome?”
“Nothing. But I really haven’t tried. I guess I’m afraid to confront him. Remember how Rand used to say that I’d avoid nastiness and ugliness at any cost? Well, I suppose he’s right.”
“But what if it means losing Ferris? Are you willing to pay that kind of price?”
“No. But I don’t have the stomach for making hundreds of calls to Europe to track him down. And our agent doesn’t want to cooperate with me. He’s a greedy bugger, and since I’m not making money for him, he has no use for me.”
“You could always try Valentine Mitchell. She could set some bloodhounds on Jerome’s trail. She’s got the knack, all right.”
“I suppose that would solve my problem. But I’m still worried about you, Maggie. Are you sure you don’t mind being alone?”
“Suse, I’ve been alone most of my life. Sometimes you can be alone with yourself without being lonely.” Before Susan could reply, Maggie said, “Kiss Jessie for me and tell the boys I love them and am counting on them.”
“I will. Enjoy.”
Maggie hung up the phone and stared morosely out the window. She ached to hear Rand’s voice; her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. She pulled the phone closer and placed a call to England.
The phone rang and rang. There were tears in her eyes when she replaced the receiver. The tears stayed with her until she fell asleep in the blue bedroom.
Rand sat across from Amelia in the sunny breakfast nook. Outside the open window the daffodils and tulips were making a grand show against the verdant lawn. The rosebushes were in bud, their droopy little heads hinting at the color that would soon arrive if this dazzling May sunshine continued. The hedgerow bordering the path was already in need of a second trim, and the birds splashed in the puddles left by Amelia’s early-morning watering.
Rand smiled at his mother. “I haven’t seen you look this well in a long time. I’m trying to decide what you’ve done to yourself. I know you’ve put on some weight, but that’s not what it is, exactly. Would you care to satisfy my curiousity?”
Amelia leaned across the table. “I think it’s called coming to terms with oneself. You look rather well yourself. Maybe we’re kidding ourselves, and it’s really this clean fresh air and sleeping with the windows wide open.”
“I’m leaving this afternoon,” he said abruptly. “I’ll drive to London and then take the Concorde to New York.”
“I know. I’m glad for you, Rand.”
“What about you, Mother? Are you ready to go back with me?”
“Do you want an answer this second?”
“Before noon; that’s when I’m leaving. Be certain, though.” Amelia nodded. “I’ll clean up the dishes,” he said. “Why don’t you take a walk, do some thinking? I know you could be packed in ten minutes.”
“Yes, I could, but it isn’t time for me to go back. You do what’s right for you. Are you going to Sunbridge?”
“No, Hawaii.” Quickly, he filled Amelia in on his plans. “I don’t know if she’ll have me, but I’m going to give it another try. It feels right.”
“Go for it,” Amelia said forcefully.
“You know, I could set down in Austin and see Cary.”
“No. I have to work out my own problems. I don’t need or want you to run interference for me.”
“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I hope so, too. You go along and have a good trip. Give Maggie my love.”
“Before or after I give her mine?” Rand chuckled.
“Before. She won’t be interested later.”
For all her bright, savvy attitude, Rand knew Amelia had been hurting for a long time. When Cary hadn’t followed her to England, some of the heart had gone out of her. She looked now, though, as if that heart were making a comeback. Her face smoothed out somehow, lost its tight, nervous look. She moved calmly, gracefully, as though she were seeing things from a new perspective. Out of the rat race, she was the Amelia he had loved since he was a toddler.
Long after Rand left, Amelia sat on the country porch, surrounded by early spring blooms. She’d lugged the crocks from the quarry and filled them herself with bright petunias, daisies, and pansies. From the high ceiling she’d hung clay pots filled with luxuriant ferns and grape-ivy. She sipped at her tea, her thoughts on Cary.
She’d been so sure he would come after her. For all of two weeks she’d been sure. Then, when she’d finally realized he wasn’t going to follow her, she’d done some hard soul-searching. And in those first weeks without him, as she’d cleaned the country house and started her garden, she’d come to understand something that had evaded her all of her life: she didn’t belong to anyone but herself. She realized she’d slavishly embraced all Cary’s hopes and dreams as if they were hers, never bothering to find out what it was she wanted. The house she’d been renovating was one of her biggest, costliest mistakes. It was a decoy, something to make her feel needed, important. Something for her to suck on, like a pacifier, while her life line was otherwise occupied.
How was it possible for one person to be so unhappy, so unsatisfied, so filled with low self-esteem? She thought of all the surgery she’d had done to retain an illusion of youth. To compete. Now she knew she’d only been fooling herself.
Once she’d reconciled herself to the fact that Cary wasn’t coming after her, she’d felt better. And she realized now that if he had, she might never have learned anything about herself. Billie had told her at their last meeting that she had to have faith in herself and who she was, or no one else would. “It comes from within,” Billie had whispered. “You have to dig down, way down, and get rid of all the clutter and garbage. Do it, Amelia.”
Amelia was almost ready now to go back and set her various houses in order. First she’d finish decorating her mother’s house. It was a symbol of the past, and she should never have bought it—but she had, and this was one project she was going to complete. Then she’d move from Sunbridge; she had never been happy there. Why she’d thought Cary would make a difference was something she was still trying to come to terms with.
She’d loved him with her heart and soul. He’d loved her, too—she’d had enough love affairs in her life to know the difference between love and lust and passion.
Cary had seen into her soul, something she’d never allowed herself to do. She’d opened up, given of herself, because she loved him. And he hadn’t abused that generosity. She was the one who’d destroyed it. She’d let Cary see her soul, then hadn’t trusted him to nurture it.
But things were different now. She’d changed. She felt rested for the first time in her life. The cares and pressures she’d imposed on herself had dropped away shortly after she’d arrived here, in this peaceful place. She’d learned she had no one to account to but herself. She was sleeping, thank God, although every night Cary made a guest appearance in her dreams. She welcomed her pillow at night and the familiarity with her subconscious. She was on the mend. Soon, another week or so, and she’d be ready to go back to Texas. And knew now, hoped really, that if she went back to Sunbridge, Cary wouldn’t see the ten pounds—or was it twelve?—she’d put on or the fine networking of wrinkles that were coming back. He wouldn’t see the natural gray streaks in her hair or the fact that she wasn’t hiding behind a mask of makeup.
Amelia smiled, a genuine expression of contentment came from deep within. Even her eyes smiled. Her right index finger caressed the wide gold band on her finger, loving symbol of her marriage to a wonderful man. Now maybe she could make it work.
She looked at her watch. Rand should be in London by now. In four hours he’d touch down in New York, and then his life would really take on meaning. There was no envy in her. Rand deserved happiness, and if Maggie was the one to give it to him, so much the better. Soon it would be her turn.
If it wasn’t too late.