Cole grinned.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cary Assante settled his hard hat firmly on his head. Just a few more months and his memorial would be finished. In the beginning he’d had doubts that he was doing the right thing, building this center as a memorial to his wife. A wife he’d betrayed in the last months of their marriage. At first he thought he was doing it out of guilt, but later, when it all started to come together, he cast the guilt aside and knew he was doing it out of love for Amelia.
Whenever he came within a few months of completing a job, he grew happy and antsy at the same time. Everyone was going to be so proud at the dedication. He could see it all now, Billie and Thad, the whole family. It was his family now, thanks to Amelia. After her death he worried that they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Instead, they’d drawn closer to one another. A week didn’t go by without a call or a letter from some family member. For a year now he’d been sending them all pictures depicting the progress he was making on the center.
He looked toward the heavens and spoke to his wife, as he did every day. He no longer cared if people saw him talking to thin air or if people thought he was eccentric. “We’re almost there, babe,” he said, then trotted off toward the explosion sight.
He was halfway there when he realized he’d forgotten his safety goggles. Should he go back for them or take a chance that nothing would go wrong? Better safe than sorry is what Amelia would have said, but hell, he was a pro. He’d set thousands of dynamite charges over the years and nothing had ever gone wrong. If he went back for the goggles, he’d be behind schedule all day. He loped over to the dynamite charge and raised the red flag. He had it in his mind to stop by Sunbridge and drop off the set of sponge building blocks he’d bought the other day for little Moss. He was, after all, the kid’s godfather. Riley and Ivy didn’t know it, but after Moss was christened, he’d changed his will. At his death everything would go to Moss, with Ivy and Riley as trustees. Nothing was too good for his family. He would give the shirt off his back to any one of them. Having a family was what life was all about.
“You ready, Cary?” his foreman, Sam Black, shouted. “On the count of three,” the foreman said, holding up his index finger. “One, two, three. Hit it!”
Cary was aware of a burst of flame and scorching heat. He reeled backward and heard Black shout, “Jesus Christ! Call EMS, now! Cary, don’t move. Son of a bitch, who checked this detonator cap? Move it, move it! Jesus, do I have to do everything myself? It’s gonna be okay, Cary, I’m telling you, don’t move, not even a muscle.”
When Cary heard the panic in his foreman’s voice, he figured he was dying. Thank God he’d made the new will. Get ready, Amelia, I think I’m on my way. Hold open the gates. He blacked out a moment later.
When he awoke, he was in a hospital. He could tell by the smell and the sounds. He’d spent a lot of time here when Amelia was ill. He listened to soothing voices telling him to relax, then felt the prick of a needle.
“What did he say, Doctor?” a young voice asked.
“He said, ‘Swing those gates, babe, I think I’m halfway there.’ He’s delirious. Is his family here?”
“Not to my knowledge, just the foreman who came in with EMS. I’m sure they’ll be here as soon as they can.”
“Well, we can’t wait. We’ll have to assume we have their permission to operate.” The doctor slipped his hands into latex gloves. “What we have here is . . .”
Thad Kingsley stood behind the French doors observing his wife, Billie. The shrill whistle of the tea kettle jarred him from his unhappy thoughts. He hated tearing his eyes and thoughts away from the woman on the chaise lounge. Every minute, every second, was now more precious than ever. God, what was he going to do? “Measure out the sugar, Kingsley, open the tea bag, Kingsley, pour the water, Kingsley,” he muttered. His throat felt tight and he could feel his heartbeat accelerate when he shouldered his way through the kitchen door, with the tray balanced precariously in his hands.
“Three sugars, just the way you like it,” Thad said cheerfully, sitting down next to her. “I, on the other hand, take mine like a man—lemon and no sugar.”
Billie’s hands had been jammed into the pockets of her down jacket, under her lap robe. She reached for the cup, her thin fingers greedily absorbing warmth from the heavy mug. “I can’t remember such an early spring here in Vermont, can you, Thad?”
“Now that you mention it, no, I can’t remember such an early spring. I hope it means a warm summer without too much rain.”
“Me too,” Billie said softly. She wanted to scream, to say she loved the seasons here at the farm. She couldn’t scream, though, couldn’t upset Thad any more than he was upset now. She looked down across the lawn to the rolling farm hills that had been in Thad’s family for over a century. It was so beautiful, breathtaking really. Her throat constricted.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Thad said quietly.
Billie was tempted to lie, but she’d never been anything but honest with her husband. “I was wondering if you can carry your memories into the hereafter or if it’s a whole new ball game. I think that’s what bothers me the most—not knowing. Thad, we have to talk about this. At least once. Then we can put it behind us and live our days as normally as we can.”
Thad was off his seat in a second, his shoulders twitching unbearably. He knew she was right, but he felt cowardly about it. My God, Billie was dying, and he was a coward. He clutched the railing of the deck banister, his knuckles whiter than any sheet. Maybe he could do it if he didn’t have to face her. “Okay,” he said hoarsely.
“Sit down, darling, so I can see you,” Billie whispered.
Goddamnit, he’d fought a war, flown fighter planes, battled for Billie’s love, and then waged war in the Senate day after day for years, and nothing was harder, tougher, than this minute. He knew his smile was sickly when he sat down and reached for Billie’s hand. How cold and thin it was.
“Now,” Billie said briskly, “let’s get on with it. I am not afraid to die, Thad. I’m not anxious to go, but it’s been ordained. I truly believe that. So you and I have to accept that my time is limited, that I’m going ... to leave you. I need to know you’ll be all right, Thad, and that you’ll be there for my family. I know they’ll be there for you. I need your promise.”
Thad nodded, his eyes full of tears.
“Billie, your family . . . how am I going to explain . . . ? What are we going to tell them?”
“I can’t burden them with my illness. They would hover, Thad, and maybe that’s the way families do things, but I don’t want it. Remember the way we all fretted and fussed over Amelia. She didn’t want it either. All she wanted was to have the man she loved at her side. She forbade him to call us, but he couldn’t keep his promise. Amelia and I had such long talks about death and dying. She wasn’t afraid either. Grieving is such a sad, lonely business, and I don’t want my family to go through it one minute longer than they have to. We’ll deal with July and Amelia’s memorial when it’s time. Now, Senator Kingsley, what do you say we go into town so you can buy me lunch? And after lunch, let’s go to that flower stall at the end of Main Street and buy an armload of spring flowers. Every color of the rainbow. We’ll come home late in the afternoon, make a fire and eat leftovers in the den. Double chocolate fudge ice cream with sprinkles for dessert. Are you tempted?”
“You twisted my arm. But I want rocky road ice cream and chocolate sprinkles.”
Billie pretended to sigh. “You got it.”
“Billie, I would give up my life for you if I could.”
“I know that, Thad. But we’ve had more joy in our short time together than some people have in a lifetime. Always remember that, and don’t be greedy. No one gets it all.”
Thad threw his hands in the air. “She’s a philosopher too.”
“And a hell of a cook.” Billie laughed as she made her way to the bedroom at the end of the hall. “I’ll just be a minute, Thad.”
&nb
sp; Thad drove his fist into the back of the recliner. “Son of a bitch!” It wasn’t fair. People, good people like Billie, were supposed to live forever. “Please, God, just don’t let her suffer. I can bear up to anything but that. She’s trying so hard. Just this once and I swear I’ll never ask You for another thing. Please, God.”
It was four o’clock when Thad and Billie walked into the cedar-shingled farmhouse, their arms full of flowers. Billie headed straight for the vases in the kitchen. Just then, the phone shrilled to life.
They both rushed over and, like errant children, waited for the answering machine to click on. Their M.O., as Thad referred to it, was to listen to the message and return the call a few hours later. In the months since Billie’s diagnosis, it had proven a successful strategy for convincing people they were on a world tour and only occasionally checked for calls. It was their way of hiding the effects of chemotherapy from the family.
This time a hysterical voice came over the wire. “Billie, Thad, it’s Ivy. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon on Thursday. There’s been a terrible accident. Cary was hurt in a dynamite explosion and is in the hospital. Riley flew to Japan to see Cole. I called and Sumi said Cole flew to Guam to pick up Riley. They aren’t back yet. Sawyer and Adam’s machine is on. I called twice, but they haven’t returned my call. I did manage to reach Maggie. Rand is in Minnesota with Miss Mitchell. Something to do with Susan. I called there too, and the operator said Susan’s phone was disconnected at noon today. Susan’s at Maggie’s and she’s leaving for Texas on the first flight she can get. Riley said you check your phone messages every other day. I thought you’d want to know. I’m waiting for Jonquil to get back from the market and then I’ll go to the hospital. Oh, Billie, I don’t know what to do. Cary has no family but us. Will I be doing the right thing if I have to sign? I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. As soon as I talk to his doctor I’ll be back in touch.”
Billie picked up the phone. “Ivy, we’re here. We just walked in the door. As soon as Thad can make the arrangements, we’ll leave. We should be on our way within the hour. You hold the fort, darling, and do whatever you have to do. Cary is ... Cary is tough, he’ll be just fine. I feel that in my heart,” Billie said. “I’m going to hang up now, darling, so Thad can use the phone. We’ll go straight to the hospital. Ivy, are you all right?”
“Oh, Billie, I prayed you would be home. Thank you for being there. If they let me see Cary, I’ll tell him you’re on the way. It will ... give him something to hang on to. Please hurry.”
“We’ll do our best. Take care, Ivy.”
“I’ll pack our bags while you make arrangements with the airport. Hurry, Thad,” Billie called back to him as she ran down the hall.
Thad dialed and talked to his wife at the same time. “I thought you said you didn’t want—”
“We switched to Plan B, darling. Family first. Family always comes first.”
It was almost midnight when Thad and Billie walked into the waiting room where Ivy Coleman sat, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ran to Billie and Thad, sobbing.
“Shhh,” Billie said soothingly. “We’re here now, darling. We’re sorry you had to go through this alone. Have you spoken to any of the doctors?”
Ivy nodded. “He’s got some second degree burns and a few lacerations. He wasn’t wearing safety goggles. He’s blind.”
Billie could feel herself sway as Thad’s arms reached for her. All she could manage to say was, “He’s alive, that’s what matters.”
“Can we see him?” Thad asked.
“Not till morning.”
“All right, then, we’re all going back to Sunbridge and have some coffee.”
“Tomorrow is another day,” Billie said softly.
There was nothing bright or hopeful about the new day, Billie thought gloomily as she looked out of the new windows in the breakfast nook. Low, swirling fog danced across the spring grass, which meant that it was going to be a warm day.
Billie shivered. As always these days, she felt cold even though she had on slipper socks and a warm flannel nightgown and velour robe. The coffee cup warmed her hands. She wanted a second cup, but she didn’t want to get up. She liked this little nest here on the window seat, surrounded by Ivy’s pillows. It was all so beautiful now, this new Sunbridge.
She snuggled deep into her robe and curled her legs beneath her. Thad said she was part cat, the way she curled and snuggled. “You even purr like a cat,” he would say. She smiled. She always smiled when she thought of Thad.
The kitchen clock chimed softly, pleasantly, in counterpoint with the Wisconsin wind chime on the patio. That too was a lovely sound, so lovely she’d asked Ivy to send her one for the deck in the farmhouse.
The low fog swirled and evaporated from the garden and lawn. The sun would shine soon and the breakfast room would be warm. Ivy would get up and make breakfast, or perhaps Jonquil would do it. Little Moss was already waiting in his high chair.
“Beat me to it again, huh?” Thad said, padding into the kitchen, his sparse gray hair standing on end. “I thought I’d find you down here curled up with your book. How’s Einstein doing?” he demanded, referring to Billie’s addiction to Dean Koontz, a writer she’d discovered during her “bad time.”
“Thad, listen to this,” Billie said. “ ‘During the rest of June, Nora did some painting, spent a lot of time with Travis and tried to teach Einstein to read.’ ” Billie rolled her eyes. “Nora is going to teach Einstein to read! Page one hundred eighty-five, Chapter Seven. It’s a few pages past the halfway mark. Only one hundred sixty-seven to go. It’s soooo good, Thad. Do you want me to wait and read to you later?”
“Absolutely. I want to hear firsthand how Nora teaches a dog to read. Don’t you dare read another word! Did the hospital call? How long have you been up?” Thad demanded as he poked around the bread box for something sweet.
“I came down around five. The phone didn’t ring. I made coffee, but I’d make fresh if I were you. Isn’t this a pretty kitchen, Thad?”
Thad nodded. “You’re going to cheat, aren’t you?” he asked fretfully. “While I make the toast and coffee, you’re going to read. I know your M.O., Billie.” He smirked with satisfaction when his wife slammed the book shut.
“Okay, Admiral Senator Kingsley. I closed the book. So there! It’s half finished, Thad. I hate it when I get to the halfway mark in a good book. We only have one more of his to read and then we’ll have read them all. Do you think I should write him a fan letter?”
“Why not?” Thad grinned. “You wrote one to Sidney Sheldon, Clive Cussler, and Robert Ludlum.”
“You forgot Tom Clancy,” Billie snapped. “I told him I didn’t like parts of Patriot Games.”
Thad laughed. “I bet he lost a lot of sleep over that letter.” It was a game they played. Billie had always loved to read, but since her illness, she read with a vengeance. Most of the time, she read the novels aloud to him. Often she got so caught up in the stories that she forgot about her illness. He made a promise to himself that when he was alone, he would write a letter himself to all the authors Billie adored and tell them how much pleasure they had given her in her last months. He wondered now as he pushed the bread down into the toaster if he would really write the letters or if the thought was just something to make himself feel better.
“Thad, call the hospital,” Billie said.
She waited, her heart thumping in her chest while Thad called and identified himself. Her eyebrows rose when she saw her husband’s mouth turn grim.
“Of course I’m immediate family. I’m his father. Now, how’s my son? Fine, fine, I’ll be there by nine.”
“Cary’s father.” Billie smiled. “How is he, Thad?”
“Resting comfortably. The doctor and the ophthalmologist will talk to me at nine o’clock. They won’t give out any information over the phone. I suppose that’s good.”
“Whoa, that’s too much butter, Thad,” Billie warned. “Remember your cholesterol.”
As if he gave a hoot about his cholesterol or his arteries. He scraped off some of the butter because it pleased his wife; he would never give her one moment of anxiety if he could help it. He layered on a thick glob of blueberry jam.
“Remember your triglycerides, Thad,” Billie admonished.
He didn’t give a damn about his triglycerides either. He scraped off an inch of jam. “Now it’s going to taste like shit,” he muttered.
“Sit down, Thad, let me do it,” Billie said, putting fresh bread into the toaster. “Give me that.” She reached for the cold toast and tossed it into the trash.
Thad grinned.
“You did that deliberately so I’d get up and make it for you,” Billie grumbled.
“It always tastes better when you make it. Like when you make egg salad and put those little seeds in it. I make it and it doesn’t taste the same.”
“You’re whining, Thad.”
“Say good morning, Moss,” Ivy said to her son. “My, you’re both up early.” She looked everywhere but at Riley’s grandmother. “The coffee smells wonderful. Jonquil doesn’t get here till eight. Usually Riley and I rough it. I’ll be glad to make breakfast—eggs, French toast, pancakes. We even have some of your maple syrup left from the last batch you sent.”
“Darling, you sit down. I’ll make you breakfast. What does Moss eat for breakfast?” Billie asked with a catch in her voice.
“Mashed banana, and then I put some rice cereal in his bottle. I just have juice and toast along with a vitamin. I tend to eat a big lunch. I still haven’t lost all my pregnancy weight,” Ivy said, fiddling with the suction toy on the baby’s high chair.
Billie slipped into her seat across the table from Ivy. “Ivy, please look at me,” she said gently, in a voice that would have calmed a terrorist. “It’s not the end of the world. Not yet, anyway. Thad and I can handle this. What we can’t handle is having this family fall apart. That’s the reason we ... we didn’t mention my illness. Since my time is uncertain we ... we want . . . I don’t want hovering, pity, or ... any of that stuff that goes with it. Can I count on you to help Riley through this?”
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