CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Maggie Coleman caught a glimpse of her reflection in the pier glass. The image staring back at her made her gasp. She looked like a bag lady without the shopping bags. Her hand went to her hair and then to her cheek. What day was it? She had to stop and think, to try to calculate the month as well as the day.

How long ago had it been since her husband had left her? A year, six months? She didn’t know and didn’t care. She didn’t feel his loss, would never feel it. It was over.

Pap’s dream, that was over, too. The silver bird had flown beautifully off into the wild blue yonder with Rand at the controls. Sawyer must have convinced him to test the plane. Hate rushed through her veins at the knowledge that Sawyer had been the one responsible for making Pap’s dream come true. Mam had called her excitedly from Japan, expecting Maggie to rejoice with her. Despite everything—the court injunctions and legal blockades to prevent Mam from squandering everything on that damn plane—she still expected her daughters to share in the glory. The lady certainly knew how to dish out the guilt.

Everyone was gone now. Pap was gone, Mam was gone, Sawyer was gone, her husband was gone. Coleman was away at military school, and she only saw him at Christmas and for the last two weeks in August. Stolen from her; everything in her life that should have been hers had been stolen from her. It hurt, and she had cried—for days, for weeks, for months. She was, still crying, still trying to bandage her wounds, but there wasn’t a Band-Aid large enough to ease the monstrous pain that attacked her twenty hours out of every day. The years, where had they gone? How had she lived through them?

Maggie’s vision blurred momentarily as she looked around frantically for the vodka bottle. The clear liquid always made things better, or at least dulled the pain so that it didn’t hurt quite so much.

There it was, on the night table, right next to the letter from old Dudley Abramson that had been sitting unopened for several days. She filled the tumbler to the rim and stared at the stark white envelope for a long moment before tossing it into the wastebasket. She didn’t need his advice, or his criticism! She didn’t care what he had to say. “You just wasted a stamp, you old buzzard,” she said aloud.

A few minutes later she fished in the wastebasket and withdrew the letter. Maybe she should open it and see what it said. She was practically sober; she could handle it. She took a deep breath, ripped the envelope open, and stared with unbelieving eyes at the three pieces of paper in her hand. It was the key taped to the deed to Sunbridge that made her sink to the bed. The letter itself was short:

Dear Mrs. Tanner:

As per your parents’ instructions, I am forwarding to you a fully executed deed to Sunbridge. The key is taped to the deed. Sunbridge now legally belongs to you.

I would like to take this time to remind you the taxes were due the first of April.

If there is anything the firm can do for you, please feel free to call upon us.

Yours truly,
Dudley Abramson

Maggie’s hands were shaking so badly she could barely get her father’s letter out of the unsealed envelope. It was handwritten, a jerky, uneven scrawl. The date on the single sheet of paper showed it had been written a week before his death.

 

Dear Maggie,

I can’t go to that unknown place that awaits all of us until I do this one last thing. I hope and pray the time comes when Mr. Abramson will feel confident enough to forward this, my last word, to you. Your mother and I have spoken at great length about my intention of deeding Sunbridge to you. She has promised that if at all possible, she will not put Sunbridge up for auction but will turn it over to you. If, for some reason, it does have to be sold, I wanted you to know of my intentions. Our lives are full of uncertainties these days, but we must not dwell on them; we must all move forward, you most of all, Maggie.

Soul-searching has become a necessary pastime these last weeks. Old hurts can never be rectified. The ache in me for what I missed is more painful than the illness controlling my body. Forgiveness is something I have always taken for granted. I find it impossible to believe you will forgive me, but your mother assures me you will. I truly regret, dear Maggie, that I was so blind to your needs. I will carry that regret with me to eternity.

Only you, Maggie, can fill Sunbridge with love, life, humor, beautiful music, and wondrous words, because you care. Bring your son here, Maggie, and make a new life for yourself. I know a Higher Being will allow me to watch over you here in this place we call Sunbridge. Trust me, Maggie. You are part of my life, my love, my daughter. Be happy.

Pap

Maggie threw herself on the bed and howled. The huge four-poster rocked with the force of her sobs. When her release was complete she wiped her face with the corner of the bedspread. Her smile, when it came, was as radiant as the first golden sun of summer.

Four hours later Maggie Coleman Tanner was Texas bound.

She was going home.

The key clenched in her hand was all the proof she needed that this wasn’t all some kind of dream.

The rental car ground to a stop and Maggie was out in an instant. There it was. Home. What a wonderful, glorious word.

The key slid into the lock. She turned the handle and the door swung open. The first thing her tired eyes saw was the four-peg hatrack holding three Stetsons. Seth, Pap, Riley. She knew in her heart that the last peg had been ordained for her son, Coleman. His Stetson would hang there just as soon as that military school could send him here.

Home to Sunbridge.