Texas fury

by Michaels, Fern

  A small, mean voice deep inside her made itself heard. "You're up at bat now. Now you can jerk his strings. You can make him pay. You can make him suffer." Chesney dropped her head onto her folded arms. She cried for her past and for the present. She wouldn't cry for the future, because her future would be whatever she made of it. The fluffy white cat jumped on her lap.

  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she reached for the letter on the shelf above her kitchen table. She'd read it one last time, then put it away and never look at it again. At least for a very long time. She dabbed at her eyes with a sodden tissue. She read aloud to the cat snuggled in her arms.

  My dear Chesney,

  I did all the things you suggested. I want you to know I started out convinced one hundred percent that there was no way on this earth you could be my daughter. I am now one hundred percent convinced that you are my daughter.

  I have to admit to a certain amount of anger. I told myself, and my solicitors as well, and my wife, that there was no room in my life for a child. I made the decision years ago not to have children because I didn't think I was, as they say, good father material. I'm basically a selfish person. I told myself, over and over, as late as the day I mailed this letter, that I didn't want to be a father. I also told myself I would set up a trust fund for you and then I would leave and go back to my life. I thought it would be easy for me to walk away from you. It isn't.

  I found myself going round to a church and having a talk with one of the fathers. He told me God sent you to me for a reason, and I shouldn't question that reason, but just to be happy that we found one another.

  I admire what you've done with your life. Had I known about you sooner, I have to believe I would have

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  swept you out of that place quicker than you could have blinked. But those are words, and I understand that you might have difficulty believing them.

  I would like us to be friends, and perhaps we can go on from there and become father and daughter. That's what I want. It would please me greatly if you would want me as a friend and father. I can't make any wonderful promises to you. I'd like to, but that would be presumptuous of me. What I can do, if you're willing, is introduce you to your grandmother, who is one hell of a lady and who will love you to tears. I can show you our family through pictures in an album that will someday be yours. My wife will love you as I will come to love you, simply because you are my daughter.

  I would never ask you to give up your independence, because I think I have some idea of how much it means to you. I ask only one thing of you, and that's for you to give yourself a chance to know the man I am now, not the man I was many years ago. I think that's a fair request.

  It would please Maggie and me if you would come to Hawaii with us. If you can't see your way clear to do that now, perhaps you will in time. When you return from your holiday, please call us at the hotel so we can talk again.

  Rand Nelson

  She was blubbering again and squeezing the cat too tightly. She blew her nose lustily.

  "Someday. Perhaps. But not now." She cried again, hard sobs that shook her thin shoulders.

  Adam popped a can of beer to fortify himself for the call he was about to make to his best friend, Nick Deitrick, who went back to first-year college days. Nick the shrink. He was probably the kindest, the most gentle, the wisest man Adam knew.

  He'd called on him for help at least a dozen times, for friends, even once for a stranger. Nick had been the one to persuade Sawyer to have the risky operation that saved her life. Adam knew if he called Nick from the middle of the Mojave Desert and asked him to come, he'd drop everything and head out. That was the kind of guy Nick was. Adam

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  considered himself fortunate to be Nick's friend. He only hoped Nick felt the same way about him.

  Adam swigged from the beer can. This was new—drinking beer at one in the afternoon. Summertime was a different story. He propped his basketball player's long legs on the ironing board and dialed long distance.

  Nick picked up the phone on the third ring. "Dr. Deitrick here."

  "This is Adam Jarvis," Adam said loftily, "here. That's here in Texas. How are you?"

  "Well, if it isn't Farmer Jarvis himself. How's things on the south forty, or whatever it is you guys say?"

  "I'm a rancher, not a farmer. Well, sort of... if you know what I mean."

  "Hell, yes, you're pissing your life away pretending to be something you aren't," Nick said. "How many gopher holes you step in lately? Bet you thought I didn't know about gophers. By the way, you doing any real work?"

  Adam knew he was referring to his political cartooning. "Haven't had time. This ranching is a hard life. Plus, I have to cook, clean, iron, saw wood, chauffeur, and a whole lot of other shit."

  "I understand everything but sawing wood. Why?"

  "Why? That's what you're supposed to do. We have a chain saw," Adam added, as if that explained everything.

  As if by some prearranged signal the teasing banter between the two old friends gave way to seriousness. "I thought I'd extend an invitation. I'd like it if you'd come for a week, or even just a weekend. Riley would take you horseback riding out on the south forty, and Cole will take you up in the Dream Machine. I ... I could use some help, Nick. Everybody in Texas is fucked up these days."

  Nick's voice was pained when he replied. "I thought this was supposed to be a vacation. With a few little talks on the side—as in therapy, huh? You'd think I went to medical school just to help your friends."

  "You know you're coming, so why are you badgering me? You took an oath, remember? To heal the sick in mind?"

  "This is the last time I'm coming through for you, Jarvis. I wish to God you'd cultivate some other friends in the medical field."

  "They'd never be as good as you. I trust you. When can I expect you?"

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  "A week from Friday? Best I can do. I have to find someone to cover for me. I hadn't planned on taking a vacation this soon. By the way, are you working?"

  He'd asked the same question the last time they spoke, and Adam knew he didn't mean was he working on the ranch; he meant at his profession. "Not yet; well, sort of. I'm getting some ideas. I can't work when my life is upside down."

  "If you'd stand still long enough, it would right itself. You just look for trouble. I have to cut this short; my next patient is here. I'll call you Friday before I leave."

  "Thanks, Nick. For a shrink, you're okay."

  "For a farmer, you're not so hot, but for a political cartoonist, you're the best. Don't be forgetting that, now."

  "You son of a bitch!!" He could hear Nick laughing as he hung up. Adam felt better now with Nick's promise to visit for a whole week. He didn't like to admit it, but he needed a bit of professional advice himself. Trouble was, he knew what he wanted now, and it wasn't ranching after all, but he just didn't know how to go about going after it. Her.

  The phone jittered to life. "Riley! I was just going to call and leave a message for you. You what? Farewell and adieu? Jesus, Riley, Japan? For how long?" There was no answer. Adam changed the subject quickly. "Jeff had a good time the other day. I was going to ask you to take him out again. He's hell-bent on becoming a Texas oilman. I tried to tell him there isn't any oil. And last, but not least, I have to tell you Coots Buckalew is putting some heavy-duty pressure on me to sell this property to him. He doesn't have a pot to piss in, so where is he going to get the money?"

  "What did you tell him?"

  "What I've been telling him for the past two years. The Jarvis ranch is not for sale, never was and never will be. My old man was a rancher, not an oilman, and I don't give a damn if I'm sitting on billions of gallons of unleashed oil."

  Riley would have given all four of his back molars for the oil leases on the Jarvis property. He'd casually mentioned it once, and the look on Adam's face made him back off. He'd never mentioned it again. "How did he take it?"

  "Like the bull he is. Said I was being
an ornery, unpatriotic son of a bitch. Now, what would you like from me?"

  "Me? Nothing. I just called to say good-bye. Any messages for Sawyer?"

  "Naw. Well, yeah, maybe one..."

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  "What is it? Come on, Adam, I don't have all day. If you can't come up with anything, I can make something up."

  "You always were a smart-ass, Riley. Just tell her I love her. Go ahead, say something smart."

  "When it comes to love, yours or anyone else's, I butt out," Riley said quietly. "Say good-bye to Jeff for me."

  "I'll do that. Good luck, Riley. By the way, Nick Deitrick is coming next Friday. I was kind of hoping you'd want to talk to him."

  "I'll work it all out, Adam. See you around."

  Adam looked at the pinging receiver. He wondered if everyone in life had problems. He supposed it would be a hell of a world if things went along smoothly. Guys like Nick would be out of business. People like Coots Buckalew would be bored to tears, and people like himself would... what, Adam? "Suck my thumb," Adam mumbled. Just sit around and suck my thumb, waiting for the check in the mail. Waiting for Sawyer.

  It was midday in England. Maggie sat alone in the hotel suite with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Rand had gone out, to follow Chesney or to see and talk to some of her friends. He hadn't asked her to go, and she wouldn't have gone anyway. She didn't approve of what Rand was doing. She wished now she'd stuck to her original plan and gone back to Hawaii. She'd give anything to walk on warm sand and swim in the spangled blue Pacific. She'd been too long without sunshine. She wanted to make love to her husband in their own bedroom with the warm breezes wafting through the French doors. She wanted to sit under the monkeypod tree and eat pineapples and macadamia nuts with him while they read the newspaper. She wanted to plan her weekly menus and go shopping at Ala Moana. Goddamn it, she wanted her husband back the way he was. And she wanted to go home.

  A tear escaped her eye and she swiped at it angrily. She had to do something, make some kind of effort to prove she could still function. What she needed right now was to talk to her mother. She called the hotel operator and placed her call.

  "I don't know what to do, Mam," Maggie said tearfully. "I can't blame Chesney. She's held to what she said. It's Rand. Why do I feel like this is the beginning of the end?"

  Billie sighed. When her children were hurting, she hurt, too. "Because, darling, you are helpless. There's nothing you

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  can do. This is something Rand has to work out for himself. You can't always be Maggie, the fixer-upper."

  "He won't even listen to me. He told me to go home."

  "He may have told you to go home, but what he's really saying is, stay with me till I work this out. Why don't you rent a furnished apartment so you will at least have some walking-around room? Whatever happens, you must be strong. Rand's going to take all his bitter disappointments out on you, and you'll have to be able to handle that. Don't create any new problems."

  "What if he decides to stay here and.. . and keeps on acting like a bereaved father whose daughter wants no part of him?"

  "That's when you deal with the problem, not now. Rand has to experience all his new feelings. It's Rand's problem, Maggie."

  "We're married, Mam. That makes his problem mine, too."

  "That's usually true, but not this time. This is intensely private. Rand knows you love him and that you'll be there for him when he needs you."

  "That's just it, Mam. For the first time, he doesn't need me." Maggie cried.

  "Oh, darling, I know. It's such a bitter pill to swallow, but swallow you must. Time, Maggie; give it time."

  "This must be what it was like for you with Pap. Was it like this?" Maggie demanded.

  "Yes, Maggie, the feelings you're having were the same ones I had with your father. I wanted to be all things, all the time. It simply doesn't work that way. Rand isn't like your father, though."

  "Bless you, Mam. Say hello to Thad for me. I'll call you when I decide what I'm going to do."

  "Maggie, I want you to promise me something."

  "Anything, Mam."

  "No matter what happens, don't get angry. Learn patience and practice it. Promise me."

  "You're better than Nick Deitrick, and he charges a hundred fifty dollars an hour," Maggie said with a forced laugh.

  "Good luck, Maggie. Call me if you need a friendly ear."

  "I love you, Mam."

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  A tear escaped Billie's eye. "And I have always loved you, Maggie dear."

  Billie sighed. So many people to worry about. So many problems. Love. Health. Money. Money—that reminded her again of Coleman Oil and the mess they were in. Right in the middle of which, Cary and Rand were investing in a sugar plantation. None of it made sense.

  She looked forward to Maggie's visit. It would do them both good to let their hair down and really talk.

  UUUiU CHAPTER THIRTEEN )))))))))

  Cary enjoyed the long drive up to the North Shore. The map Maggie sent him was perfect, her directions easy to follow. He recognized the banyan tree that stood sentinel at the Nelson's gate. He saluted it happily. He'd made it! He drove up the long driveway, his eyes trying to take in everything at once. He stopped the car in the middle of the driveway to drink in the beauty of the estate. The thick, spiky grass was a meadow of brilliant green. But it was the back of the house that drew him, made him gasp. There, in all its glory, was the Pacific Ocean. For a moment, he stood in awe. He ran to the white beach, kicking off his shoes as he went. He drew in his breath; Amelia was going to love this. He turned to look at the back of the house. It was postcard perfect. There was the ancient monkeypod tree Billie spoke of so often, the lanai where Maggie and Rand spent most of their time. Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, were brilliant hibiscus, fragrant pink and white plumeria, and, wonder of wonder, orchids by the hundreds.

  Cary itched to shed his clothes and sample the warm, blue waters. He walked back to the driveway for his car, garaged it, and carried in his bags. He whistled in awe when he took his first good look at Maggie and Rand's paradise house.

  An hour later, with a cold beer in his hand, Cary sat on a lime-colored cushion on the lanai. He had calls to make. People were expecting to hear from him. He groaned. Inside a cabinet to his left was a phone. He pulled it toward him to dial

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  Thomas Yoneyama's office. He announced himself and waited.

  "Welcome to Hawaii, Mr. Assante," a rich, melodic voice greeted.

  "Thank you, Mr. Yoneyama. 1 left subfreezing temperatures in Texas, and I'm real happy to be here."

  "Then perhaps you will consider staying for a while to enjoy our hospitality."

  "Business first. When can we get together?"

  "If you think you will be rested sufficiently by tomorrow afternoon, I can arrange a meeting for, say, three o'clock. Eighteen hundred Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki."

  "I can make it," Cary said.

  "It's settled, then. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime? Where are you staying?"

  "The Kamali estate. Or I should say the Nelson estate now."

  The man's voice changed slightly and became upbeat. "I know the house well. It was empty for many years. I understand it's a showplace now. I went to school with Ester Kamali. You will have no problem resting there."

  "I'm finding that out. I'll see you tomorrow."

  The second call was to Ellery Murashige to set up a second meeting in regard to the sugar refinery. After welcoming Cary to Hawaii, he promised to call the other owners and arrange a dinner meeting at the Kahala Hilton. Cary hung up and called Amelia.

  "Darling, how is Hawaii?" Amelia asked gaily.

  "Amelia, you have to come here. I don't know how to describe this place except to say it's perfect. I can't find a thing wrong with it. I can't wait for you to see it." Cary smiled at the excitement in his own voice.

  "Have you been swimming?"

  "It's the first thing
I did. I'm just sitting here in this warm, beautiful sunshine, missing you and sipping cold beer. What's the temperature at home?"

  "Twenty-four degrees." Amelia laughed.

  "I set up my meetings, at least the first two. There will probably be two dozen more in the next ten days. I get the impression these people are very formal. No good-old-boy jokes and no backslapping. I haven't called Rand yet. I thought I'd wait till I had something definite to report."

  "Darling, hold off calling Rand. I spoke to Billie yester-

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  day." She told him about Maggie's phone call to her mother. "Do what you have to do, and I'm sure if Rand were thinking properly, he'd go along with whatever you decide. Don't be surprised if Maggie pops back; she's really missing the sunshine. I, for one, think she will stay in England with Rand and see this thing through."

  "Poor guy. He must be going through hell," Cary said.

  "The day always comes when each of us has to pay our dues. Some quicker than others," Amelia said.

  "I miss you, babe. I wish you were here."

  "Brrr, I wish I was there, too. Soon, my darling. Why don't we say good night so I can go to bed and you can take a nap in the warm sunshine."

  "Amelia, there are orchids growing in the backyard. Hundreds of them."

  "Save one for me, and I'll pin it behind my ear. I think it's supposed to mean something."

  Cary laughed. "That's so some guy can nibble his girl's ear while he's pretending to smell the flower."

  "You're probably right. You may nibble my ear on arrival. Good night, darling."

  Cary leaned back in the lounge chair after he finished his beer. A nap would be wonderful. He'd probably sleep like a tired marathon runner.