Texas fury

by Michaels, Fern

  A chorus of yeahs echoed around the room; one by one everyone got up. First Amelia and Cary, then Thad and Billie. Susan and Ferris clapped Cole on the back and told him to party somewhere else. Mr. Hasegawa struggled to his feet, perspiration dotting his forehead. He bowed low to the room and followed Billie and Thad. Sawyer was the last to fall into line as she poked Cole on the arm.

  "You want to party, call me tomorrow for lunch," she said, laughing. She kissed Maggie lightly and smiled at Rand. "Good night, all."

  "Allow me to accompany you upstairs, Grandfather," Riley said.

  "It is not necessary, Riley. I am asleep on my feet. Tomorrow we will talk. Before I leave. Will you be driving me to the airport?"

  "Of course." He laid a gentle hand on the old man's shoulder and was stunned at how bony it was. Sadness swept through him. He nodded miserably, meeting Cole's compassionate gaze.

  "Do I know how to clear a room or what?" Cole grinned.

  Riley grinned back. "You ass. Are you telling me you did that on purpose?"

  "I can smell the trouble you think you're in," Cole said. "Remember when I heisted the statue of Knute Rockne from school and you called me at three in the morning and told me you could smell the trouble I was in? Same thing. Come on, what's up?"

  "You and I have come a long way, Cole. We are friends, aren't we?"

  "Yes. And cousins."

  "Blood, eh? Thicker than water?" Cole nodded. "He. .. What he wants . .."

  "He wants you to go back to Japan and take over his business. If I were in his place, I'd probably want the same thing. What are you going to do?"

  "That's just it; I don't know what to do. I was going to talk

  {58}

  to you tomorrow. I have two families. No matter what my decision is, I'll be betraying one of them."

  "It's tough to be between a rock and a hard place. No way out. Someone always gets hurt. And that old man up there is hurting real bad, and I don't just mean physically."

  "I know that," Riley said miserably.

  "You've done a hell of a job with Coleman Oil. I don't think we could replace you."

  Riley beamed. "You mean I'm leaving my mark?"

  "If you left, and I said if, yes, you'd leave your mark. Right now you are Coleman Oil. We'd be the ones caught between a rock and a hard place. Same thing for your grandfather if you stay here. I wish I could help, Riley."

  "Thanks. I think you're going a bit overboard, though. There are others who could do what I'm doing. Like you and Sawyer with Coleman Aviation."

  "Maybe down the road, but not right now. Aren't you going to Rio next week? I heard Sawyer telling Susan you were leaving on Friday. For how long?"

  "Ten days, tops."

  Laughter wafted down the circular staircase. Cole and Riley both looked toward the second floor.

  The family.

  "I've never seen this hallway so busy." Maggie laughed. "I do love it when we're all under the same roof."

  Amelia put her arm around Julie's shoulder. "We need some nice young blood around here." She liked this gentle young woman; somehow she reminded her of Billie when she arrived at Sunbridge for the first time.

  Cary watched Amelia with Julie. He felt pride and love when Amelia bent down to kiss Julie on the cheek. Amelia always made everyone feel welcome, and now she was including Julie in the family. That said it all. He was glad. He liked Julie Kingsley.

  "Would anyone mind if I went down to the kitchen and made some hot chocolate?" Julie asked.

  "I mind that you have to make it yourself," Amelia said. "Cary, take Julie downstairs and fix it for her. Put marshmal-lows in it. That's the one thing Cary excels at, hot chocolate." She laughed. "It will do you good, too, darling. Drink two cups. It will help you simmer down."

  "Bossy, bossy," Cary said affectionately. "I guess we have

  {59}

  our orders, young lady, so we'd best march to them. Hut two, or however you say it." Julie laughed and proceeded to march down the hallway. The others watched indulgently.

  "Now it's time to remove Estee Lauder and crawl between the sheets," Amelia said. "What would any of us do without that lady's miracle products?"

  "Look ugly?" Billie queried.

  "Close," Amelia laughed. "Good night, all."

  When the door closed behind Maggie and Rand, he asked who Estee Lauder was.

  "She's a cosmetic legend. See this, and this, and this? And smell this! It's all Estee Lauder. Mam always used her cosmetics, and we just sort of followed her. Mam looks great, doesn't she?"

  Rand grinned. "And all this time I thought it was the natural you. And don't confuse the issue here—you just want me to say your mother looks great and then say you look just like her. I'm not falling into that trap!"

  "A trap, is it?" Maggie said throatily. "Am I the spider and you're the fly?"

  "You got it, beautiful lady. I seem to recall we came home to do something."

  Maggie pretended to think. "Sex," she exclaimed. "That was it. We came home to make love. Watch this," she whispered as she twirled away from her husband.

  Her movements were sensual and unhurried as she loosened the soft tie that held her gown together at the shoulder. One scandalously high heel sailed to the left, its mate to the right. Legs the envy of any Vegas showgirl were sheathed in provocatively sheer black stockings. Never taking her eyes from Rand's burning gaze, she rolled them down and stepped out of them. Her lacy bra and silky bikini were next. And then she stood naked, allowing her husband to drink his fill of her. She was tall, but he was taller still. Their silence spoke of lifetimes, past, present, and future. She moved closer, her heady perfume wafting around her like a scented aura.

  "Let me," she whispered. Her fingers were hot, feverish, as she undid the buttons on Rand's shirt. When the last of his clothes rested next to hers, she stepped closer. Her eyes glowed darkly in the bedroom light. Rand shuddered when her warm mouth met his. He closed his eyes, giving himself to the moment. Her mouth sucked him sweetly, rhythmically, teasing him into groans of pleasure.

  {60}

  Maggie sensed his deepening excitement and allowed herself to be carried with it. One moment his arms cradled her, soothing her, the next they became her prison, hard, strong, and inescapable. She loved him like this, when she could feel the wildness flooding through his veins and know that it was she who had aroused these instincts in him. She yielded to his need for her, welcoming his weight upon her as he gently lowered her to the silken sheets.

  His hands were in her hair, on her breasts, on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He stirred her, demanded of her, rewarded her with the adoring attention of his lips to those territories his hands had already claimed. When he posessed her, it was with a joyful abandon.

  She murmured her pleasure and gave him those caresses he loved. Release was there, within their grasp, but like two moths romancing a flame, they played in the heat and postponed that exquisite instant when they would both plunge into the inferno.

  "Love me, Rand, love me," she implored, her voice deep, throaty, almost a primal cry of desire. The sound in the silent room made his passions flare anew. He covered her with his body, holding her fast with his muscular thighs, while he skillfully caressed her. She drew his head down to her breasts, offering them. His lips closed over one rosy crest and then the other, nibbling, teasing, drawing tight, loving circles with his tongue. He traveled downward to the flatness of her belly and the soft, darker recesses between her legs.

  Maggie arched instinctively against his mouth, her head rolling back and forth on the pillows as though to deny the exquisite demands of her sensuality. Her fingers curled in his thick, blond hair, her body moved of its own volition against the excitation of his caress. Release, when it finally came, was the ebbing of the flood, seeping from her limbs. There was the sudden exhalation of breath and she was floating, drifting on a cloud, the whole of her world consisting of his lips and her flesh and the contact between them.

  Still, his move
ments were slow, deliberate, and unhurried, despite the roaring in his ears that echoed in the pulses of his loins. His hands grasped her hips, lifting her, drawing her against him, filling her with his bigness, demanding his needs be met. His breathing was ragged, and his chest heaved as though he had run a mile. Lips met, lingered, tasted, and met again. He moved within her imprisoning flesh insistently,

  {61}

  rhythmically, bringing her with him to another plateau, very different from the first, yet just as exciting. He rocked against her, feeling the resistance she offered, knowing that as she tightened around him as though to expel him from her, she was coming ever nearer to that climaxing sunburst where he would find his own consolation.

  Panting, Rand covered her body with his, calming her shudders and comforting her until their spasms passed. And then, reluctantly, he withdrew from her and silently pulled the covers over them, taking her in his arms to cradle her lovingly. Maggie rested against him, sweeping her hand down the length of his body and finding him moist from her own wetness. Curled together in a dream of their own, they murmured love words until at last they slept.

  Shadaharu Hasegawa struggled to the side of the bed. It took all his will to stand erect. He wished he were home. The long trip yawned ahead of him. He had hoped that Riley would accompany him on his return trip to Japan. But he shouldn't be thinking of his grandson now. Now he had to get ready for the day. A shower, but first he had to take two of the dreaded painkilling pills. Months ago, when he'd been informed of his condition, he'd made up his mind that he wouldn't take them. He'd carry his sickness with dignity and he'd suffer, the way his ancestors had suffered. No samurai ever took pills. His hand trembled as he shook the little tablets from the bottle. He wondered what would happen if he swallowed the lot of them. Would it kill the pain or would it kill him? If he did that, he would bring dishonor on all his daughters and their husbands, and on Riley. He had to suffer. His faith willed it. Within minutes the raw, knife-sharp pain had dulled, and queasiness in his stomach and chest had lessened. He would be able to brush his teeth now, confident the pills and bile wouldn't spew out. The shower would feel good. His hand shoek only a little when he shaved. Perhaps today wouldn't be so bad after all.

  How forward would it be of him to go downstairs to the kitchen for tea? The family had told him repeatedly that he was to consider Sunbridge his home. Right this minute he felt like he could eat sashimi and soba. A trace of a smile played around his mouth when he thought of the Lipton tea bags he would find in the kitchen. Americans didn't know the first thing about making tea.

  {62}

  He dressed in his impeccable custom-made suit, the one he'd had made just for this trip. His tailor, a fussy man with a long, thin white beard, had assured him that his weight loss would not be as noticeable with the expert padding in all the right places. The Colemans had all been kind, not mentioning the way he looked. He'd appreciated the concern they tried to hide, but he wondered what they would think when they found out he wanted Riley to return to Japan with him. Thaddeus and Billie would understand. All of them, he decided, would understand. All but Riley.

  Eight daughters he'd been blessed with, and now he had several sons-in-law, but he wanted Riley to run his empire. Riley was a Hasegawa, no matter if Coleman blood ran in his veins. Blood. Riley was of his blood. He hung his head. The shame he was feeling had no words. He never thought the day would come when his only grandson would turn against him.

  He was pacing the room slowly now, waiting for the dawn to bleach the long, dark night. He ignored the first wave of dizziness, willing it to go away. The second wave stopped him in his tracks and forced him to grab hold of a chair. He tried to square his shoulders, to make his feet work again. But he was no samurai. He accepted his own silent declaration with sadness, his distress at not being able even to stand erect making him want to weep.

  He sensed another presence, but before he could turn around, he felt strong arms around his shoulders. This was what he'd been waiting for, his grandson. He turned in time to see the blinding tears in Riley's eyes. "You mustn't feel sad, my grandson. Buddha wills this. When you come to Japan you must promise me that you will light the joss sticks. Promise me, Riley. Your Jesus will forgive that promise to an old man."

  "I promise, Grandfather. It hasn't been decided that I won't return. I need time. Tell me you understand."

  The words were an effort, but Shadaharu forced them past his thick tongue. "I understand, Riley, and you must understand that the one thing I don't have is much time. This disease that started out creeping through my old body is now running. There is nothing to stop it. A year at the most, the doctors say."

  There was anger in Riley's voice. "Then, Grandfather, you should have preserved your strength and remained in Japan. This trip has cost you too much." The anger turned to anguish

  {63}

  at the thought of his inability to do anything for his grandfather's physical comfort.

  "Our families are intertwined now," Shadaharu said. "I had to come to give my support. I and other members of our family invested in Mr. Assante's inner city. How could I bring shame on us? Surely you understand."

  "What I understand is that you are ill. Everyone would have understood. There are fine doctors here, the best. Sloan Kettering in New York City." The word, cancer, that people were afraid to say didn't have to be spoken aloud. Just the mention of Sloan Kettering made the old Japanese nod in recognition.

  "It is too late for me," Shadaharu said sadly. "I will return home today and pray that I will live to see the cherry blossoms one last time." He wanted to tell his grandson not to grieve for him, but his tongue was too thick—or was it that he didn't want to say the words?

  "Come, I wish to have some tea, even if it is in little bags. Join me, Riley."

  "I'll do better than that. I'll fix the tea myself." Before Shadaharu could protest, Riley scooped the frail body into his strong arms. "There is no shame in what I'm doing, and no one is stirring in the house. Enjoy the ride, Grandfather."

  The old Japanese tried to bluster, but in the end he laid his head on Riley's chest and, for the first time in his life, allowed himself to be fussed over.

  The Sunbridge kitchen was warm and fragrant. Once he had asked the cook why the room always smelled so good, and she said she heated pine needles and cinnamon sticks in the oven to give off the aroma.

  Riley busied himself with the boiling water and teapot. He knew now that he couldn't allow his grandfather to return to Japan alone. He'd just have to put Coleman business on hold and go back with him. He would make it clear, though, that he would return to Texas.

  His heart ached as he watched his grandfather grasp the mug of steaming tea with both hands to steady it. He looked away when he saw the amber liquid dribble down the old one's chin. This was the first he knew that his grandfather had difficulty in swallowing. He gulped his own tea and excused himself.

  Long legs were pounding down the circular stairway, and he barely missed Cole at the foot of the steps.

  {64}

  Cole swung around and raced after his cousin. "What the hell's going on?"

  "I have to go to Japan. I can't let him go alone."

  "No, you can't. Is there anything I can do?"

  "No. Yes." Riley was throwing underwear and clean shirts into a duffel bag. "Call Lacey and explain. It's too early to call now; they like to sleep late."

  "Riley, I..."

  Riley reached for his sheepskin jacket. His eyes locked with his cousin's. "I trust you, Cole." Cole's arms reached out, and Riley grasped both of them. "I do, you know," Riley said huskily. "Past is past."

  "If you need me ... anything ... I can be there in hours."

  "In that crazy Dream Machine?" Riley's laugh was forced. "You think I don't know they call you Top Gun at Coleman Aviation? You're up there buzzing the heavens and I'm down here busting my ass drilling oil."

  Cole relaxed; the bad moments were over. "That oil is what keeps the home fires
burning and Coleman Aviation in the air, Coleman."

  "You made your point, Tanner." Using last names went back to dorm days and public telephones. Hey, Tanner. Yale's calling. Hey Coleman, Notre Dame is on the horn.

  "I'm coming back, you know."

  "I know that," Cole said softly. "I'm glad, Riley."

  They were at the top of the steps. "It should be fish-or-cut-bait time," Riley said in a muffled voice. "But I can't do it. I want it all."

  Cole stepped in front of his cousin. "There's nothing wrong with that if you can handle it. And if you can't handle it, what the hell do you think the rest of us are here for? Family, Riley. Remember the time the family came from all corners of the world for us when Ben Simms accused us of raping his daughter? They'll do it again and again. You taught me that, you asshole. I didn't know you didn't believe your own words. I'll never forget that day, Riley, when your grandfather stared into my eyes and said he believed us. Your grandfather changed my life that day. It was almost as if he looked into my soul. That total, absolute belief is something I never saw before and will probably never see again. I can't tell you how often I think of your grandfather and that day."

  Riley shrugged. "Death is so final. I'll work it out, Cole."

  * * *

  {65}

  "I'm coming back, you know." Riley remembered his words to Cole. Two short weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. He patted his jacket pocket to make sure the return ticket was safely there. It was his last day in Japan. His last day with his grandfather. He shivered. He pressed the bell hidden in the intricately carved teakwood gate, then took a moment to savor the beauty before saying good-bye, again, to his childhood home. It was palatial compared to Sunbridge, low and sprawling and constructed of concrete trimmed with teakwood. Every branch, every leaf and shrub of the gardens, was manicured to picture prettiness. It had always been this way, he supposed. As a child he'd never paid much attention to his surroundings, caring only that he was warm, well fed, and comfortable. Now he could appreciate the beauty of the place.