Maggie's Dad

by Diana Palmer

  His face drew in sharply at the sight of her, because even in her depleted condition, she took his breath away.

  “I’m running late.” She improvised to explain the way she was dressed. “I’ve just now come back from town,” she lied, redfaced. “I’ll hurry and change and be ready in a jiffy. Dad can talk to you while I get ready. I’m sorry…!”

  She dashed back into the bedroom and closed the door. She could have died of shame. So much for her dreams of the sort of date they’d once shared. He was dressed for a cup of coffee and a sandwich at a fast-food joint, and here she was rigged out for a restaurant. She should have asked him where they were going in the first place, and not tried to second-guess him!

  She quickly changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and put her hair up in its usual bun. At least the jeans fit her better than the dress, she thought dryly.

  Powell stared after her and grimaced. “I had an emergency on the ranch with a calving heifer,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize she’d be dressed up, so I didn’t think about changing….”

  “Don’t make it worse,” her father said curtly. “Spare her pride and go along with what she said.”

  He sighed heavily. “I never do the right thing, say the right thing.” His dark eyes were narrow and sad. “She’s the one who was hurt the most, and I just keep right on adding to the pain.”

  Ben Hayes was surprised at the remark, but he had no love for Powell Long. He couldn’t forget the torment the man had caused his daughter, nor what Antonia had said about Powell using his influence to open financial doors for him. All Powell’s pretended concern for his health hadn’t changed what he thought of the man. And tonight his contempt knew no bounds. He hated seeing Antonia embarrassed like that.

  “Don’t keep her out long,” Ben said coldly. “She isn’t well.”

  Powell’s eyes cut around to meet the older man’s. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

  “Her mother’s barely been dead a year,” he reminded him. “Antonia misses her a lot.”

  “She’s lost weight, hasn’t she?” he asked Ben.

  Ben shifted in the chair. “She’ll pick back up, now that she’s home.” He glared at Powell. “Don’t hurt her again, boy,” he said evenly. “If you want to talk to her about your daughter, fine. But don’t expect anything. She’s still raw about the past, and I don’t blame her. You were wrong and you wouldn’t listen. But she’s the one who had to leave town.”

  Powell’s jaw went taut. He stared at the older man with eyes that glittered, and he didn’t reply.

  It was a tense silence that Antonia walked back into. Her father looked angry, and Powell looked… odd.

  “I’m ready,” she said, sliding into her leather coat.

  Powell nodded. “We’ll go to Ted’s Truck Stop. It’s open all night and he serves good coffee, if that suits you.”

  She read an insult into the remark, and flushed. “I told you I was dressed up because I’d just come back from town,” she began. “Ted’s suits me fine.”

  He was stunned by the way she emphasized that, until he realized what he’d said. He turned on his heel and opened the front door for her. “Let’s go,” he said.

  She told her father goodbye and went through the door. Powell closed it behind them, shutting them in the cold, snowy night. A metallic gold Mercedes-Benz was sitting in the driveway, not the four-wheel-drive vehicle he usually drove. Although it had chains to get through snow and ice, it was a luxury car and a far cry from the battered old pickup truck Powell had driven when they’d been engaged.

  Flakes of snow fell heavily on the windshield as he drove the mile down the highway to Ted’s, which was a bar and grill, just outside the Bighorn city limits. Ted’s sold beer and wine and good food, but Antonia had never been inside the place before. It wasn’t considered a socially respectable place, and she wondered if Powell had a reason for taking her there. Perhaps he was trying to emphasize the fact that this wasn’t a routine date. It was to be a business discussion, but he didn’t want to take her anyplace where they might be recognized. So if that was the case, maybe he really was serious about the widow Holton after all. It made her sad, even though she knew she had no future with him, or with anyone.

  “You’re quiet,” he remarked as he pulled up in the almost deserted parking lot. It was early for Ted’s sort of trade, although a couple of tractor trailers were sitting apart in the lot.

  “I suppose so,” she replied.

  He felt the unease about her, the muted sadness. He felt guilty about bringing her here. She’d dressed up for him, and he’d slapped her down unintentionally. He hadn’t even considered that she might think of this as a date. She was as sensitive now as she had been at eighteen.

  He went around the car to open her door, but she was already out of it and standing in the snow when he got there. She joined him at the fender and walked toward the bar. Her sneakers were getting wet and the snow was deep enough that it leaked in past her socks, but it didn’t matter. She was so miserable already that cold feet just seemed to go with her general mood.

  Powell noticed, though, and his lips compressed. It was already a bust of an evening, and it was his own damn fault.

  They sat down in a booth and the waitress, a big brunette named Darla, smiled and handed them a menu.

  “Just coffee for me,” Antonia said with a quiet smile.

  Powell’s eyes flashed. “I brought you here for a meal,” he reminded her firmly.

  She evaded his angry eyes. “I’ll have a bowl of chili, then. And coffee.”

  He ordered steak and salad and coffee and handed the menu back to the waitress. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt as helpless, or as ashamed.

  “You need more than that,” he said softly.

  The tone of his voice brought back too many memories. They’d gone out to eat very rarely in the old days, in his old Ford pickup truck with the torn seat and broken dash. A hamburger had been a treat, but it was being together that had made their dates perfect. They’d wolf down their food and then drive out to the pasture near Powell’s house. He’d shut off the engine and turn to her, and she’d go into his arms like a homing pigeon.

  She could still taste those hot, deep, passionate kisses they’d shared so hungrily. It was amazing that he’d had the restraint to keep their dates innocent. She’d rushed headlong into desire with no self-preservation at all, wanting him so much that nothing else had mattered. But he’d put on the brakes, every time. That hadn’t bothered her at the time. She’d thought it meant that he respected her enough to wait for the wedding ceremony. But after he’d called off the wedding and married Sally, and Maggie was born seven months later, his restraint had made a terrible sort of sense. He hadn’t really wanted Antonia. He’d wanted her father’s influence. She’d been too much in love to realize it.

  “I said, you need to eat more than that,” he repeated.

  She looked up into his dark eyes with the memories slicing through her. She swallowed. “I haven’t felt too good today,” she said evasively. “I’m not really hungry.”

  He saw the shadows under her eyes and knew that lack of sleep had certainly added to her depleted health.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Maggie,” he said suddenly, because it bothered him to be with Antonia and remember their old relationship. “I know she’s given you problems. I hope we can work out something.”

  “There’s nothing to work out,” Antonia said. “She’s done her homework. I think she’ll adjust to me eventually.”

  “She had a lot to say about you last night,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “She said that you threatened to hit her.”

  She looked him right in the eye. “Did she?”

  He waited, but she didn’t offer any defense. “And she said that you told her that you hated her and that you didn’t want her in your class, because she reminded you too much of her mother.”

  Her eyes didn’t fall. It wasn’t the truth, but there
was enough truth in it to twist. Maggie certainly was perceptive, she thought ruefully. And Powell sat there with his convictions so plain on his lean face that he might as well have shouted them.

  She knew then why he’d invited her here, to this bar. He was showing her that he thought too little of her to take her to a decent place. He was putting her down in a cold, subtle way, while he raked her over the coals of his anger for upsetting his little girl.

  She managed a smile. “Does the city cab run out this far?” she asked in a tone that was tight enough to sound choked. “Then I won’t even have to ask you to take me home.” She started to get up, but he rose, too, and blocked her way out of the booth.

  “Here it is.” The waitress interrupted them, bringing steaming black coffee in two mugs. “Sorry I took so long. Is anything wrong?” she added when Powell didn’t move.

  “No,” he said after a minute, his eyes daring Antonia to move as he sat back down. “Nothing at all. But we’ll just have the coffee, if it isn’t too late to change the order.”

  “It’s all right, I’ll take care of it,” the waitress said quickly. She’d seen the glint of tears in Antonia’s eyes, and she recognized a kindling argument when she saw one starting. She put down the cream pitcher and wrote out the check. If she was any judge of angry women, there would barely be time for them to drink their one cup each before the explosion.

  She thanked them, put down the check and got out of the line of fire.

  “Don’t cry,” Powell said through his teeth as he stared at Antonia’s white face. “Don’t!”

  She took a steadying breath and put both hands around the coffee cup. She stared at it instead of him, but her hands trembled.

  He closed his eyes, fighting memories and prejudices and gossip and pain. He’d forgotten nothing. Forgiven nothing. Seeing her alone like this brought it all back.

  She was fighting memories of her own. She lifted the coffee to her lips and burned them trying to drink it.

  “Go ahead,” he invited coldly. “Tell me she’s lying.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you the time of day,” she said in a voice like warmed-over death. “I never learn. You said we’d discuss the problem, but this isn’t a discussion, it’s an inquisition. I’ll tell you flat-out— I’ve already asked Mrs. Jameson to move Maggie out of my class. She can’t do that, and the only option I have left is to quit my job and go back to Arizona.”

  He stared at her without speaking. He hadn’t expected that.

  She met his startled eyes. “Do you think she’s a little angel?” she asked. “She’s rebellious, haughty, and she lies better than her mother ever did.”

  “Damn you!”

  The whip of his voice made her sick inside. She reached for her purse and this time she got up. She pushed past him, and ran out into the snow with tears streaming down her face. She’d walk back to town, she would…!

  Her foot slipped on a patch of ice, and she went down hard. She felt the snow on her hot face and lifted it, to the cooling moisture of fresh snowflakes, just as a pair of steely hands jerked her back to her feet and propelled her toward the car.

  She didn’t react as he unlocked the door and put her inside. She didn’t look at him or say a word, even when he fastened her shoulder harness and sat glaring at her before he finally started the car and headed it back toward town.

  When they arrived at her father’s house, she reached for the catch that would unfasten the harness, but his hand was there, waiting.

  “Why can’t you admit the truth?” he demanded. “Why do you keep lying about your relationship with George Rutherford? He bought your wedding dress, he paid your college tuition. The whole damn town knew you were sleeping with him, but you’ve convinced everyone from your father to George’s own son that it was perfectly innocent! Well, you never convinced me and you never will!”

  “I know that,” she said without looking at him. “Let me go, Powell.”

  His hand only tightened. “You slept with him!” he accused through his teeth. “I would have died for you…!”

  “You were sleeping with my best friend!” she accused hotly. “You got her pregnant while you were engaged to me! Do you think I give a damn about your opinion or your feelings? You weren’t jealous of George! You never even loved me! You got engaged to me so that my father’s influence could get you a loan that you needed to save your family ranch!”

  The accusation startled him so much that he didn’t have the presence of mind to retaliate. He stared at her in the dim light from the front porch as if she’d gone mad.

  “Sally’s people didn’t have that kind of clout,” she continued, tears of anger and pain running down her cheeks like tiny silver rivers. “But mine did. You used me! The only decent thing you did was to keep from seducing me totally, but then, you didn’t need to go that far, because you were already sleeping with Sally!”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was the first time in his life that he’d been at a loss for words, but he was literally speechless.

  “And you can accuse me of lying?” she demanded in a choked tone. “Sally lied. But you wanted to believe her because it got you out of our engagement the day before the wedding. And you still believe her, because you can’t admit that I was only a means to an end for your ambition. It isn’t a broken heart you’re nursing, it’s broken pride because you couldn’t get anywhere without a woman’s family name to get you a loan!”

  He took a short breath. “I got that loan on my own collateral,” he said angrily.

  “You got it on my father’s name,” she countered. “Mr. Sims, the bank president, said so. He even laughed about it, about how you were already making use of your future father-in-law to help you mend your family fortunes!”

  He hadn’t known that. He’d put the land up for security and he’d always assumed that it had been enough. He should have realized that his father’s reputation as a gambler would have made him a dangerous risk as a borrower.

  “Antonia,” he began hesitantly, reaching out a hand.

  She slapped it away immediately. “Don’t you touch me,” she said hotly. “I’ve had the Longs to hell and back! You can take this for gospel—if your daughter doesn’t study, she won’t pass. And if that costs me my job, I don’t care!”

  She jerked open the door and got out, only to find Powell there waiting for her, dark-eyed and glowering.

  “I’m not going to let you take out any sort of vengeance on Maggie,” he said shortly. “And if you don’t stop giving her hell because of grudges against her mother, you’ll be out of a job, I promise you.”

  “Do your worst,” she invited with soft venom, her gray eyes flashing at him. “You can’t hurt me more than you already have. Very soon now, I’ll be beyond the reach of any vengeance you like to pursue!”

  “Think so?” With a lightning-quick movement, he jerked her against his lean, hard body and bent to her mouth.

  The kiss was painful, and not just physically. He kissed her without tenderness, with nothing more than a need to punish. His tongue insinuated itself past her lips in a cold, calculating parody of sex, while his hands twisted her body against his lean hips.

  She stiffened, trying to fight, but she was too weak to force him to let go. She opened her eyes and looked at him, stared at him, until he thought she’d had enough. Just at the last, he relented. His mouth became soft and slow and sensuous, teasing, testing. His hands slid up to her waist and he nibbled at her lower lip with something like tenderness. But she refused him even the semblance of response. She stood like a statue in his grasp, her eyes open, wet with tears, her mouth rigid.

  When his eyes opened again, he looked oddly guilty. Her mouth was swollen and her face was very pale.

  He winced. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said curtly.

  She laughed coldly. “No, it wasn’t necessary,” she agreed. “I’d already gotten the message. You held me in such contempt that you didn’t even change out of your working cl
othes. You took me to a bar….” She pulled away from him, a little shakily. “You couldn’t have made your opinion of me any plainer.”

  He pushed his hat back on his head. “I didn’t mean it to turn out like this,” he said angrily.

  “Didn’t you?” She stared up at him with eyes that hated him and loved him, with eyes that would soon lose the ability to see him at all. She took a breath and it ended on a sob.

  “Oh, God, don’t,” he groaned. He pulled her into his arms, but this time without passion, without anger. He held her against his heart with hands that protected, cherished, and she felt his lips in her hair, at her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Annie.” He bit off the words.

  It was the first time he’d used the nickname he’d called her when she was eighteen. The sound of his deep voice calmed her. She let him hold her. It would be the last time. She closed her eyes and it was as if it was yesterday—she was a girl in love, and he was the beginning of her world.

  “It was…so long ago,” she whispered brokenly.

  “A lifetime,” he replied in a hushed tone. His arms cradled her and she felt his cheek move tenderly against her blond hair. “Why didn’t I wait?” he whispered almost to himself, and his eyes closed. “Another day, just one more day…”

  “We can’t have the past back,” she said. His arms were warm against the cold, and strong, comforting. She savored the glory of them around her for one last time. No matter how he felt about her, she would have this memory to take down into the dark with her.

  She fought tears. Once, he would have done anything for her. Or she’d thought that he would. It was cruel to think that he had only used her as a means to an end.

  “You’re skin and bones,” he said after a minute.

  “I’ve had a hard year.”

  He nuzzled his cheek against her temple. “They’ve all been hard years, one way or another.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry about tonight. God, I’m sorry!”