You, Coleman san, have brought a breath of fresh air into this old man's life with your witty, cheerful letters. I have no wish to be a burden to you. If you feel you have no time to write to me, do not worry.
My heart aches for my grandson. I sense that his spirit is in a turmoil, much as your own. It saddens me that the path he has chosen to follow is not the one I have chosen for him. I place no blame, Coleman san. I did for a while, but a walk in my small sanctuary showed me that you are right. My grandson must be
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free to sing his song. If he must sing it, let it be where he is happy—in Texas, where his father lived. Buddha is a gentle god, who forgives me. Finding the strength to forgive myself is something I pray for each day.
Give my regards to all members of your family. If it is not too much trouble, please tell Riley I think of him each day. If you can, explain to him that this old one's anger is abating because my days grow shorter. When he sings his song, Coleman san, ask that he dedicate it to me. Age must count for something.
My warm affection to you, Coleman san, for making this old man's days brighter.
Shadaharu Hasegawa.
"Riley, you are a fucking son of a bitch!" Cole cried. Witty and cheerful, huh? Well, here goes nothing.
Dear Mr. Hasegawa,
The days are cold, the nights colder, here in Texas, and I'm waiting patiently for the first sign of spring, because summer rides its coattails. I've noticed that people in warm climates, where the sun shines most of the time, seem happier and they smile more. Often I wish I was a writer so I could express certain things for other people to read, to see if they share my thoughts. Perhaps when I am old and wise like yourself, I will pursue that dream of mine, one I have snared only with you.
We are all fine. Mother is in England with Rand and his new daughter. Any addition to the family is always welcome. The bigger the better, Texans say.
Cary is in Hawaii and plans to go into business with Rand. Their plan is to buy a sugarcane plantation and build a refinery. Aunt Amelia thinks it's a blast because now we can all get fat. She plans to join Cary in ten days or so. There's even talk that they may buy a house in Hawaii to get away from this cold weather. I can't say I blame them.
Growing up is painful. Just this evening I was wondering what I'd like to be when I grow up. I'm not sure I was meant to be here, doing what I'm doing. I'm doing it because it is expected of me. Riley is here because he wants to be. He's doing what he's doing be-
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cause he loves it. That can't be wrong. If anyone can turn Coleman Oil right side up, it's Riley. My family, myself included, wish there were some way for us to ease your pain and anguish. Perhaps time, which I understand is your enemy, will make things right.
When you write your next letter to me, use this address at Assante Towers. I'm staying here temporarily.
I will continue to do as I have been doing. Stay well, my friend.
Coleman.
Cole addressed the envelope, fixed the stamp neatly in the corner, filed the Hasegawa letter, and resumed his pacing.
Thoughts of Riley whirled around Cole's head. It was always like this these days. In the shower, out on the street, eating, before going to sleep, thoughts of Riley would attack him. Was he happy now that he was sole owner of Sunbridge? Cole grimaced. Sunbridge, the Coleman shrine. Jesus, how he hated it. Sometimes, he thought, I even hate the Colemans. Adam would tell him life was too short to spend it hating a place or doing something you hate. Move on, Tanner, do what you want, carve out your own niche. Find a nice young woman, get serious, get married. And while you're at it, find a job that will make you happy. Shake the dust off this family and move on.
Cole snorted. Easier said than done. Still, in his gut he knew he would have done just that if the oil crunch hadn't come along. He would have taken off, followed his star. Now it was too late. If he left now, it would be like a rat leaving a sinking ship.
"Damn!" Cole exploded. He rubbed at his throbbing temples. If he didn't put Riley on the back burner and get on with his own day-to-day living, he was going to be in emotional trouble. He forced his mind to other things. He had to fly up to Galveston on Saturday. Maybe Adam would let Jeff go along for company. The kid would have a ball if he let him take the controls for a few minutes.
Sometimes life was a bitch.
Maggie hated London and everything about it. If it were up to her, she'd never come back. She especially hated the elegant, stuffy, old-fashioned hotel. She was surprised at herself; she'd never been one to hate anything. Usually she was the
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eternal optimist, the one who viewed the glass as half-full rather than half-empty. She knew she wasn't being fair to the lovely city or to the old traditional hotel. It was the circumstances that she hated, she decided. And right now she had a terrible case of cabin fever. Waiting for Chesney to come back from her holiday had been sheer torture.
She still wasn't happy about the letter Rand had written to Chesney and delivered to her flat so she'd find it upon her return. He'd labored over it for days. He hadn't let her read the letter. She'd felt bad, but what made her feel worse was that Rand was counting so heavily on Chesney's response. Somehow, even though she didn't know what the letter said, Maggie wasn't counting on anything. Her Mother Magic, as Cole referred to her intuition, was telling her Chesney was going to say, thanks but no thanks. Chesney would carry it one step further and say, I told you at the beginning I don't want anything from you, I just wanted you to know I'm alive. Period. End.
She was angry, at Rand for his blindness, and at Chesney for her stubbornness. She felt fear for the first time in her married life. Fear that Rand would grow away from her, fear that his daughter would consume him. Fear that she wouldn't be able to handle any of it.
This welcome-home luncheon for Chesney was important, that much she knew. For all of them. She hoped she and Rand would be able to return to the States in a day or so, and then home. Last night she'd made up her mind to return even if Rand elected to stay on. She would stick by her decision no matter what happened at this luncheon.
Maggie watched her husband out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be taking as many pains getting dressed as she had. She'd changed her clothes three times, finally settling on a cherry-red sweater and matching skirt. It looked more cheerful than she felt. Rand couldn't decide if he should go casual, with a shirt and pullover, or wear a business suit. She was glad when he finally pulled a pale blue sweater over a slightly darker shirt. Gray flannel trousers and gray shoes completed his outfit.
"I think we're turned out rather well, darling. We are not overdressed; we're casual, but not too casual. If you erase the frown lines, you will be the handsomest man in all of London.
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Darling, Chesney is going to be delighted to see you. Trust me.
"I'm not ready for this, Maggie." He sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump. "I don't have a good feeling about this meeting. I don't know why."
"I'm sure it's going to be a little strained, but that will be temporary. Think positively," Maggie said.
"How am I supposed to tell this young woman 1 checked her out, spoke to her mother, and decided yes, she's my daughter and she didn't lie to me? How can I say that, Maggie? For God's sake, the girl has feelings."
"So do you, my darling. Chesney will understand. She told you to check her out. She gave you license to do that. She said she understood that you would resent and reject her at first. Why don't we stop worrying and go along to lunch and see what happens. Unless you've changed your mind."
"No. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Call down for a cab."
"I did that already, Rand."
"You don't have your coat on."
"Neither do you. I'm waiting for you. It's beastly hot in here. Come along, darling, it's time to welcome Chesney into our family."
Chesney arrived at the restaurant first. She gave her coat to a hatcheck girl, and five minutes later she wished
she'd kept it on. The bench-lined hallway where she waited had no heat. She supposed she could ask to be seated. If she did that, she could avoid an awkward meeting in this cold, drafty corridor. She was just about to put her thought into action when the door opened. Maggie and Rand entered briskly, their shoulders and necks hunched into their heavy coats. This must seem like Siberia to someone who made his home in Hawaii, she thought. She smiled warmly and held out her hand, first to Maggie and then to Rand.
Rand ordered drinks. He snapped his lighter to fire up all three cigarettes. Chesney pretended not to see the trembling in his hand.
"Did you have a nice vacation, Chesney?" Maggie asked.
"I had a lovely time. I think, however, the expectation before going away on holiday is greater than the actual holiday. I do love the south of France and go every chance I can. Have you been there?"
Maggie and Rand both nodded. They talked for a while about various restaurants, the weather, the beaches, and the
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film stars who frequented the glorious beaches.
Their drinks almost finished, their luncheon orders given, Chesney fixed her gaze on Rand. "I was very surprised to see the letter from you in my mailbox when I returned. It was a pleasant surprise."
"I did what you suggested. I went round to the orphanage and to see ... your mother."
"Has she recovered from my surprise visit?" Chesney asked quietly.
"No. She did, however, tell me something I think you might want to hear. Shall I tell you?"
"If you like."
Rand cleared his throat, not once but twice. "She said she wanted to take you in her arms and hug you. She said she was sorry she didn't do that. Every year on your birthday she bakes a cake and tells her family it's in memory of an old aunt. She said a day never went by that she didn't think of you. The day after your visit she went round to the orphan-age.
Maggie watched the girl. Nothing changed in her face. When she spoke, it was as if they were discussing the weather. Don't hurt Rand, please, she begged silently.
"I appreciate you telling me this. She must have her hands full with five children and a husband who isn't too understanding. Our lunch is here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to eat quickly and run."
"Where?" Rand asked bluntly.
Chesney smiled. "I'm a working girl, remember? I have things to do. I must pick up my cat from the vet's, stop by the dry cleaners to get my uniforms, pay a sick call on a friend, and clean three weeks of dust in my flat. In between I have a drinks party to attend that I can't get out of. Plus—" she held up a warning hand "—I must do some grocery shopping since the icebox is empty."
Maggie smiled winningly. "Oh, how I remember those days. It seemed as though there weren't enough hours in the day to do everything. There were times when I got home from work and just went to bed. Can we help you with anything?"
"That's kind of you, but no. This fish is delicious. You aren't eating, Mr. Nelson; don't you like it?"
"Mr. Nelson sounds so formal. I don't expect you to call me father, but how about Rand?"
Rand, Rand, my darling, please don't sound so ... so des-
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perate, Maggie pleaded silently. She watched Chesney carefully for her reaction.
"If you like. I quite agree that Mr. Nelson sounds out of place. I wasn't sure how you would want me to address you. By the way, how long will you and Mrs. Nelson be in England?"
Rand wanted to say, as long as it takes to get to know you, but he didn't. "We aren't sure at the moment. Our stay depends on several things. When are your days off?"
Chesney laughed ruefully. "Not for a while, I'm afraid. I have to pay back a week of borrowed days from the girls who covered for me so I could have a full three weeks off." She smiled warmly in Rand and Maggie's direction.
What the smile said to Maggie was, "Go home; don't wait for me. I waited all these years; now it's your turn." Maybe she was being unkind to this daughter of Rand's.
"Quit your job. Come to Hawaii with us," Rand said.
Oh, Rand, please don't beg, Maggie wanted to cry. She could tell by the expression on Chesney's face that she'd been expecting Rand to say exactly what he'd said. She sounded, Maggie thought, as if she'd rehearsed her reply.
"I can't do that. I've lived here all my life. My friends are here. I have my flat and my cat. I have a good life, and I made it for myself. I don't want to give it up. For as long as I can remember I had no one to depend on but myself. I've grown accustomed to my independence and I love it. Thank you for the invitation, though," she said soberly.
Chesney's words were warm and gentle, but they knifed through Rand. Maggie could feel the fine hairs on the back of her neck start to prickle. Accept it, Rand. Let it go.
"Perhaps later, then. You can always change your mind." The desperate tone was still in Rand's voice.
Chesney leaned across the table. Her face was earnest, her voice quiet. "I told you when I first met you that I didn't want anything from you. I'm not about to stake out any claims. I'm happy with what I have. I have no desire to change my life. I'm very sorry if I gave you the impression that I would join up, as they say, when and if you came to a decision about my legitimacy. I thought I was very careful to be honest with you from the beginning."
Right, Maggie thought bitterly. You had no intention of changing your life, but what about ours? Please, don't be cruel to your father. Father, she realized, was just a title. She
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certainly could understand that. For so long she, too, had been without a father. But she'd been just the opposite of this girl sitting across the table from her. She'd lashed out and attacked every chance she got. She'd made herself and everyone in her life miserable. This young woman had her life in her own hands, and she wasn't about to transfer one little bit of it to anyone else. Who could blame her? Rand was never going to understand. Never.
"Won't you at least allow me to make up for all those years you spent in the orphanage?" Rand pleaded.
"Nothing could ever make up for those years. That's part of my life, and I think I've become a better person because of those years. I'm not trying to be cruel to you. It shouldn't be important for you to want to make that up. What you're feeling is guilt, and that shouldn't be, either. The only thing that has changed for either of us is we know now that we are father and daughter. I think it's important for each of us to be aware of the other. I'd like it if we could stay in touch. I'm sorry, but I have to run. It was a lovely lunch. Thank you for inviting me. Please, stay and have dessert."
Rand stood. He made a move as if to take her in his arms, but Chesney neatly sidestepped him. With an airy wave of her hand, she was gone. Rand sat down, his face bleak. He turned to Maggie. "What am I going to do?"
"Time, darling, will take care of everything. She is a remarkable young lady, and she means exactly what she says. She has no intention of becoming part of our lives except in a peripheral way. We should go home and pick up our lives, because that's what Chesney wants us to do. Nothing has changed for her."
"I can change her, sway her, make her want to come with us."
"She'll hate you, Rand. Leave her alone. She knows where we are, and if she needs us or wants us, she knows how to get in touch. We have to do what she wants, not what you want. I feel I'm right in this, Rand."
"Maggie, Maggie, I can't just turn my back on her. I have to stay. Please say you'll stay here with me."
"Darling, you'll just torture yourself. The girl's mind is made up. What are you going to do? Hang out where she works, wait till she gets off work, follow her home? Take flights that she's on? Don't do it, Rand."
"I wouldn't do that," Rand said testily.
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"Yes you would. I can see it all over your face. And if you didn't do that, would you stay in your hotel room and wait for the phone to ring? What kind of life is that? Trust the girl, Rand, to do whatever she feels is right for her. You cannot make up for twenty-odd years in a few hours."
Rand turned to Maggie, his face full of rage. "Don't you understand? I can't, I won't, abandon my daughter.. . again. If you don't want to stay, then go back to Hawaii. I'm staying here. That's final, Maggie."
In all the years they'd been married, Rand had never spoken to Maggie like this. She felt sick to her stomach when she pushed her pie plate away. "I think I'll walk back to the hotel. You stay here, Rand, and have a few more drinks and commiserate with yourself about how unjust life is." Her tone was sharper than she'd intended.
Rand's eyes were miserable as he watched his wife leave the restaurant. He finished his peach cobbler and ordered a drink. He might just do what Maggie said. One drink, two, maybe even three. When they threw him out to get ready for the dinner rush, he could go to a pub and finish out the night. What the hell did he care?
Chesney forced herself to think only of the chores ahead of her as she made her way back to her flat. It wasn't until she was inside that the tears came. She'd been that close to jumping up from the table and throwing her arms around her father. But she'd held back, remembering Sara and the promise she'd made to herself.
She poured a saucer of milk for her cat and put the kettle on for tea. Tea always made her feel and think better. She'd read her father's letter again while she drank the Earl Grey. And she'd cry again, as she had the other fifty times she'd read the letter. Each time the Persian cat hopped on her lap and she nuzzled it close.
Only God knew how she'd prayed all her life for a family. And only God knew how fearful she was of being rejected. She'd insulated herself so thoroughly against that hurt, it was as though she were wrapped in concrete. If you didn't feel, you didn't get hurt.
All those brave words she'd said back in the restaurant were just that—brave words. She'd done a good job of convincing her father. . . yes, he really was her father. .. that she had a perfect life. She'd almost convinced herself. She ached
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with what she'd forced herself to give up. Would it be so difficult to give him a chance? Yes, yes, yes. If I give even an inch, I'm lost, I'll be just like Sara. I'll expect to be hugged and kissed and catered to. I'll expect an avalanche of loving words. If I give up everything I've fought for, that I've earned, I'll be lost. I can't take that chance. I won't take that chance, no matter how much it hurts now.
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