Texas fury

by Michaels, Fern

  She needed to talk to someone, another woman. Who better than Billie. Billie would understand. Billie was never

  {206}

  judgmental. Is that what you want, understanding, or are you hoping for approval? a niggling voice asked. "Both," Julie whispered.

  "Surprise! Surprise!" Julie cried when Billie opened the door the following evening.

  "Julie! How wonderful to see you! Come in, it's cold out there. Is anything wrong?" she asked anxiously.

  "Nothing's wrong. I came down because ... I miss you. I guess I've been a little lonely. I need a little mothering, or comforting ... or something. I hope you don't mind."

  "Mind? Of course not. Will you be staying over?"

  Julie nodded. "I thought I'd take the early shuttle in the morning. Is Uncle Thad home?"

  Billie made a face. "No. He usually comes in around nine. If he wants an early evening, he has to plan weeks in advance. I can't wait till he leaves office. I really miss the farm. I miss Vermont, and the dogs."

  "I know what you mean. I never thought I'd miss home, but I do. More and more I'm thinking about going back."

  Billie sensed distress in Julie's voice. "Dinner, Julie? I baked a chicken earlier. I have a great salad and some angel food cake. I don't normally wait for Thad, so if you'll join me..."

  "I'd love it."

  As Billie puttered around the kitchen setting the table and adding dressing to the salad, she kept up a running conversation to try and ease Julie's tenseness. "Are you settled in? How's New York?"

  "I'm settled in, but as I told you, I've been thinking about going back home. I like the city and I like my job, but ..."

  "It's all still new to you. Give the city a chance. You'll make friends, and New York is such a wonderful city; there's so much to do every hour of the day."

  "It's not lack of friends. I guess it's me. I'm strictly a small-town girl. Did you hear what I just said? Girl! I'm a middle-aged woman now. Men don't... they want young... you know..." she said lamely.

  "Julie, don't sell yourself short. There's somebody out there, he just hasn't found you yet."

  Julie shrugged. "You might be right, but I doubt it. What

  {207}

  do you think?" she said, pulling her hair aside to reveal the earrings Billie had sent for her birthday.

  'They're lovely. Maggie told me onyx is very fashionable these days. Do you really like them?"

  "Aunt Billie, I love them. I can't tell you how many compliments I received. It was very thoughtful of you. You shouldn't have, but I'm glad you did."

  The bracelet was new, Billie thought. At least, she'd never seen Julie wear it before. Julie kept pushing it up and down her arm as though she wanted to take it off or it was bothering her. Billie forced a laugh. "I always say that, too. How was your birthday? Did you celebrate, or are you at the stage where you'd rather forget it, like me?"

  Julie took a deep breath. "I met Cary Assante in a deli one day and he invited me out to dinner to celebrate. It was very nice. We had a wonderful dinner at his and Amelia's favorite restaurant. They. .. they gave me a lovely gold.. . this gold bracelet, and Amelia ordered a cake with a candle. I felt a little embarrassed, but Cary said it was okay, everyone should have a birthday cake. He's a very nice man, and I enjoyed myself." Lord, was that exultant voice hers? She sighed deeply.

  Billie hadn't heard Julie sound so elated in years. Usually she was serene and low-key. This new Julie positively bubbled. She couldn't help wondering why.

  "Billie, you aren't saying anything. Did I say something wrong?"

  "No, Julie, nothing's wrong." Billie had the feeling Julie was about to confide in her. She swallowed hard, knowing what was coming, dreading it.

  "Aunt Billie, I ... I need to talk to someone. I'm finding myself very attracted to Cary, and he to me. I adore Amelia and ... I need ... I want ..." She went on to tell Billie about the answering machine and the game she played with it. "One part of me realizes the danger, the other part of me ... I don't seem to have any control over my emotions. I could fall in love with Cary so ... so easily. I don't ... I never believed in that romantic nonsense that you. . . you can fall in love. . . like ..." She snapped her fingers. "I never felt this way before. I've had affairs, relationships, whatever you want to call them. I'm not a kid. He sort of swooped into my life, and I reached out. ... I don't know how else to explain it," Julie said lamely.

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  Billie sat down across from Julie. "Yes, honey, Cary is a kind, wonderful person and he's married to a kind, wonderful woman. The good ones are always taken," she said ruefully. "I have to ask you something." She paused and looked straight into Julie's eyes. "Do you just want to talk or do you want advice?"

  "I don't know. I think I just want to talk. I can give myself the same advice you would give me. You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"

  "Please don't think that, Julie. I know how these things can happen. It happened to me once, so I can speak from experience. So many things can go wrong, people who don't deserve to be hurt can be devastated. You have to be prepared to live with... whatever you choose to do."

  Julie's voice took on a defensive tone. "I know all that. I've done nothing but think about... about Cary and Amelia, and myself, since I bumped into him. By accident, Aunt Billie. I had no control over that meeting, nor did Cary. It was like it was... meant to be." Her voice was taking on a stubborn note now, and Billie winced. "What about me, Aunt Billie? What about me. I'm thirty-nine years old. I finally met someone... someone I'm comfortable with, someone I want to see and talk to again. Why should I have to give that up? My eyes are open. I seriously doubt if I'll ever find myself in Amelia Assante's company again. How Cary handles it will be up to Cary. I have wants, I have needs.... Damn it, Aunt Billie, it isn't fair."

  Billie chose her words carefully. "I'm a little older than you, honey, not necessarily wiser, but I've found over the years that there is very little in life that's fair. The fair part is inside each of us. Each of us has to deal with it in our own way. This isn't advice, Julie, more a statement of fact, again from my own experience. I don't think you can find happiness at someone else's expense, knowingly or unknowingly."

  Julie nodded. "I appreciate your talking to me. I don't feel that I can make any promises to you or to myself, but I will give it a lot of thought."

  Billie's heart settled down to its natural rhythm. Julie's promise was more than she hoped for, but it was far from reassuring. She got up to prepare the dessert plates, turning her back to hide her face from Julie. She was very worried ... for Amelia, but it wouldn't do to show it.

  Both women were still at the table when Thad walked in at

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  nine-thirty. He hugged and kissed Julie, catching Billie's slight nod. He grabbed a chicken leg and excused himself, saying he had a stack of paperwork that needed his immediate attention.

  When the kitchen was restored to tidiness, Julie begged tiredness and a need for a warm, soothing bath.

  Instead of joining Thad, Billie turned the television on and turned down the volume. She watched the silent screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Julie .. . Amelia. .. Cary. Lord, why did these things have to happen to the people she cared about most? In the end, Julie and Cary would do whatever they felt they had to do. Amelia would do whatever was best for Cary.

  Amelia walked in the door a little after five. She tossed her warm wool hat in the direction of the coat rack. Her coat found a home on the high-backed chair in the living room. Her left shoe sailed toward the fireplace, the right toward the dining room. Her gloves, bag, and scarf ended up on the coffee table.

  There was something different about the apartment, and it wasn't the fresh flowers on the coffee table. The air didn't seem so oppressive.

  "Darling, I'm home!" Amelia called.

  "I hear you," Cary sang out from the kitchen. "Sit down, put your feet up, and your tea will be served by the man of the house."

  Amelia's tired eyes opened wide. Sh
e hoped she didn't look suspicious when Cary set the tea tray down and poured. "Two lumps," he said, dropping the little cubes into the cup with a flourish.

  "I thought we'd go out to dinner this evening. In fact, I made reservations at Andre's for seven o'clock. We'll only be gone two hours. I think both of us could use a night out. I'm starting to get cabin fever."

  "You've got yourself a date." She didn't know what had happened to lighten her husband's mood, but whatever it was, she hoped it could be packaged and bought. She'd order a carload.

  "How was your day?" Cary asked. He sounded as if he really wanted to know. She told him. He listened raptly. When she was finished, he smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Amelia. There aren't many people who would take on the challenge

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  you've accepted. I wish there was something I could do to help you. I know, you want to do it yourself, and I applaud that. But I don't want you tiring yourself out and have your health suffer. There must be something I can do. Lick envelopes, stuff them, take them to the post office box, whatever?"

  "I'm not running for office, Cary. Believe me, if there was something you could do, I'd shackle you to my left wrist. I'm not tiring myself. This is the best thing for me right now. Are you going to come with me when I go to Washington to say my bit?"

  "Babe, I'll be with you every step of the way. I bet you'll even make the news. What's the date?"

  "March first." If she hadn't been staring directly at her husband with such a loving gaze, she would have missed the almost imperceptible change in his expression.

  "That's not tough at all. We can take a flight the night before so we're both fresh, and take the first plane back when you finish."

  "That's not what I had planned at all, Cary. Now is when I can get away. I thought we could do Washington while we're there. As in "do." Billie and Thad will want us to stay for a few days. I was thinking more like a week. Togetherness." She leered.

  "A week, huh? Fine with me."

  "Are you sure? You don't have anything planned, do you?"

  "If I did, I'd cancel it—this is more important," Cary said with forced heartiness.

  "Then it's settled. Who gets the shower? You go first, because you hate it when I steam it up. I'll look through the mail. Don't take all day, either. I'm hungry. In fact, I'm starved."

  "Me, too. Five minutes."

  Amelia's heart raced. A whole week in Washington with Cary and her two favorite people in the world, Billie and Thad. She sighed happily. Sometimes things just worked out right. All you needed was a basket full of patience.

  She picked through the mail. Bills, advertisements, a postcard from South America. Amelia smiled. Riley had been back for weeks now.

  The small, pale green envelope was caught between an invitation to a black-tie dinner and a letter from the utility company. Amelia held the small square of paper between her fingers as if it were laced with germs. She read it three times.

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  She sat down with a thump on the padded desk chair. Now she understood. Good lord, could one small scrap of paper make such a difference? Of course it could. It had. Amelia's shoulders slumped. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she forced them back. "All this is is a thank you note from a very nice person. Leave it at that," she muttered to herself when she heard Cary close the shower door.

  These days she didn't undress in the bedroom and pad naked into the bathroom the way she used to. Now she carried her clothes into the bathroom, disrobed, and dressed with the door not only closed but locked. The loose folds of skin and the bypass scar were for her eyes only.

  In the restaurant Amelia pushed her food around on the plate. Cary ate like a truck driver. "I thought you said you were starved," he said.

  "I was then. I had a rather big lunch. But I have eaten two pieces of Andre's magnificent bread and the salad. I always do that and then can't do justice to the dinner."

  "This is wonderful," Cary said, motioning to the mess on his plate. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what her husband had ordered. Some kind of fish in a sticky white sauce. She couldn't even remember what she ordered. Some kind of chicken. It was buried in a plum sauce that puckered her mouth.

  This was the first time she could remember thinking that she and Cary resembled the other diners in the restaurant. You could always tell the married couples. They ate, they drank, and there was little or no conversation between them—until the check arrived and the little woman wanted to know how much her husband spent on her. Lovers, on the other hand, could be drinking Ripple wine and chewing on pickled crab-grass and not know the difference. Quiet whispers and eye contact were the order of the day.

  Cary leaned back in his chair. "That was one good dinner. I get points for finishing it all," he said boyishly.

  "You certainly do. Are we having dessert?"

  "I don't know about you, but I am. That flaming apricot thing Andre is famous for. And let's have some more wine, babe."

  Babe. His favorite name for her. Amelia smiled. She remembered the days when he used to refer to her as his broad. She loved it.

  {212}

  Cary gave their order to the waiter. His spirits were high.

  "Did you see the note Julie sent us? That was nice of her, don't you think?"

  Nobody's voice should sound this happy. Amelia wanted to stretch across the table and slap him. She nodded. "Julie is a very nice person," she said sincerely.

  "I know. I couldn't get over how easy she is to talk with. She's fun, too. Wonderful sense of humor. She can even laugh at herself. Most women today are too uptight with trying to get to the top. I think Julie has found her niche and she's happy. She said she likes New York, but at times it intimidates her. I told her you loved it. She thinks the world of you, babe."

  "And I of her. She is Thad's niece, so what do we expect?" Shut up, Cary. Leave it alone. Don't say any more. I can't bear it. You should hear your voice. You sound like you're seventeen and in love.

  "She talked about you a lot. She said you had the most exquisite clothes and knew how to wear them. She admires your dedication. It's hard to believe she's thirty-nine. You could take her for thirty or so, don't you think?" Cary asked, oblivious to the look of pain on his wife's face.

  "Yes, thirty or so. I quite agree. Oh, look, here's dessert, flame and all."

  "Julie would like this. She's like a kid when she sees something unexpected or something she hasn't had before. Do you know she has this videotape of a cartoon called Puff the Magic Dragon? She plays it when she needs a lift. Isn't that amazing?"

  Amelia ground her teeth. A lift indeed. But there was no way she was going to fight this. No way at all. / wish you could hear yourself, Cary. "I don't think it's amazing at all. I think it's very astute of Julie to know what will relax her, even if it is a silly cartoon."

  Cary stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Why do you say it's silly?"

  "Aren't cartoons supposed to be silly? Aren't they supposed to make you laugh? That's why they're silly."

  "I thought you were mocking Julie," Cary said quietly.

  "Now that you know I wasn't, don't you feel better? It pays to talk about these little things so they don't get blown out of proportion," Amelia said sweetly.

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  "You're right, babe. Someday I'm going to learn not to question you. You're always right."

  Amelia forced a laugh. "Not always. But most of the time."

  "You aren't eating this dessert. You could use a little extra meat on your bones, babe. Come on, this is delicious."

  Amelia dug her spoon into the thick apricot sauce. Extra meat on her bones. Like well-padded Julie. Ample Julie. Chubby Julie. Hippy Julie. Julie with the genuine freckles. Julie with the wonderful sense of humor. Julie with the laughing eyes. Wasn't there a song about laughing eyes? Frank Sinatra sang it—when Cary was still in diapers. Amelia hated herself for her thoughts.

  She finished her dessert.

  It took a full two weeks before
Cole could pass for his normal self. The day after the beating, Adam insisted on driving him to the hospital to have his face stitched and his nose set. The intern complimented Adam on his taping job, but Cole's ribs healed slowly. The only visible signs of the beating were a few black and blue marks on his cheeks. He covered them with a bronzing gel.

  He hadn't been back to Sunbridge till this evening. And now he'd only come back to get his clothes. The past week had been absolute torture for him as he tried to figure ways to avoid Riley without being obvious about it.

  He was on his third drink, trying to gather courage for one last try at explaining to Riley. Two weeks to calm down should be enough, even for Riley, he thought. He'd calmed down a lot himself. At first he had argued with Adam, saying Riley wouldn't listen, and why should he subject himself to another attack? Adam, of course, had the perfect reply. "You have to take a shot at it so you'll know you tried. If Riley doesn't want to listen, then it's his problem, not yours. Do it for yourself, Cole."

  Cole burst into Riley's room near midnight. The three shots of bourbon straight up had given him the courage to do what Adam suggested.

  "Whatever it is you're doing, stop it! I want to talk to you, Riley. Man to man. We aren't kids anymore. You're going to listen to me if it's the last thing either of us does."

  Riley turned from his position at the desk, where he'd been

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  trying to write a letter to his grandfather. Even this unwelcome intrusion would get him off the hook for a few minutes. "It's all been said. Don't make me change the custom here at Sun-bridge by having to lock my door."

  "You never used to be so damn pigheaded. Okay, it was wrong. Jesus, she came into my bed in the middle of the night. At first I thought I was dreaming. When I realized it was no dream, it was too late. All this hatred you're directing at me isn't justified. I wanted to tell you myself, and I think I would have if there had been time. It was wrong; I know it was wrong. I wish I could take it back, go back in time and erase it, but I can't. I told Lacey there could never be anything between us. That's why she left. Jesus, don't you understand? She didn't love you. She was using you! You can't make someone love you. She, at least, understands that. Why can't you?"