“Nothing under a hundred thousand, and that would just get it off the ground. But if you’re campaigning, I’d be more than glad to make a donation when you’re ready.”
Susan was struck by his wide smile and realized that whenever she was with him she watched for it, allowed herself to be warmed by it. Ferris Armstrong loved his work and he loved the children; she could tell by the way he handled little Jessie. His hands were incredibly large, with long, sensitive fingers; he could hold Jessie’s bottom in one palm. His blue eyes could be compassionate one second and stern the next and merry the second after that. She gauged him to be somewhere in his early forties, and once when she’d mentioned his family, he’d told her he didn’t have one.
Single, attractive, and sensitive. The thought pleased Susan, and she felt herself flush. “I like you, Ferris Armstrong, M.D.,” she blurted.
His eyes met hers, and for an instant there was a sense of tension and indecision between them. Then Jessie belched again and they both laughed.
“Raising money for your foundation shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Ferris said after a moment, dropping his feet from the desk and fixing his gaze intently on Susan. “I heard you play when I was in Los Angeles three years ago. You were magnificent. I shouted with the rest of the audience at the end of the concert. Why don’t you think about playing here? You certainly are a celebrity, and all of Texas would turn out to hear you, especially if they were spending tax-deductible dollars to do so. Give the proceeds to your foundation.” He held up a hand. “Don’t say no too quickly. A talent like yours shouldn’t be hidden. Jessie might need a lot of things, but so does her mother. Think about it.”
“I don’t know if I have the time to spend practicing,” Susan said doubtfully. “Hours and hours at the piano, hours Jessie will need me. But yes, of course, I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now, I want to see Jessie next week. I’ll give you a call over the weekend to let you know what I’ve come up with in the way of the suggestions you want. First, I want to talk to several physicians in the area and see what they think about an outdoor camp for children with special needs. Getting their input from the beginning would help to ensure their participation later. Get me?” He winked.
Susan found herself laughing again. “Gotcha! But I’ve got a better idea than having you call. Why don’t you come to dinner on Saturday night? If you’ve no other plans,” she added hastily. “I can show you the piece of land my sister is turning over to me.”
Ferris quickly ran a mental check of his plans for Saturday. “I’m free as the breeze,” he said cheerfully. “What time?”
“Early, while it’s still daylight. If you come in the afternoon and the weather is nice, we can ride out on horseback.”
“You’ve got a date.” He made a few illegible squiggles on a notepad—for Susan’s benefit; he knew he wasn’t going to forget.
“I’ll see you on Saturday, then. Thank you, Dr. Armstrong.”
“Why don’t you call me Ferris? I’ll call you Susie.”
“My family calls me Suse.”
“I like Susie better.”
Susan’s heart fluttered all the way to the car. She’d never felt like this. Not even Jerome had made her heart flutter. Wait till she told Maggie.
“Sounds like a date to me,” Maggie said, smiling. “Is he good-looking? Not that it matters, but it’s the first thing women think about.”
“Not terribly good-looking, but he has these incredible eyelashes. I like him, Maggie. I can’t believe I had the nerve to ask him to dinner, though. I hope you don’t mind. He’s coming over early in the afternoon. Do you think you could watch Jessie while we go horseback riding?”
“Of course I don’t mind, and of course I’ll watch Jessie. I can’t wait to see this man who can turn my sister into a weak-kneed mass of jelly! What shall we have for dinner? What do you think he likes?”
“Maggie, I hardly know him. But when in doubt, always go with prime rib and some fancy dessert, right? ... Maybe I’m making too much of this. Here we are thinking this is actually a date, and it isn’t. He’s just coming to lend his expertise so Jessie can have a better life. It’s true that I asked him because he interested me, if you know what I mean. But that doesn’t mean he’s reciprocating my feelings.”
“Little Suse, listen to your sister Maggie. Men, especially doctors, don’t go out of their way unless they’re interested. Doctors simply don’t have the time, and what time they do have they guard very jealously. That’s my expert opinion.”
“That’s good enough for me. Oh, Maggie, I can’t tell you what it means to be here! There was a time when I thought we were lost to each other.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Maggie said softly.
Susan wrapped her arms around her sister. “Have you heard from Rand?”
“No,” Maggie whispered. “I screwed up, Suse. Maybe someday I’ll learn.”
Susan could hear the hint of tears in Maggie’s voice. “No, I refuse to believe that. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Rand is always on the go; he might be traveling. You did send him away. He probably went off to the country to lick his wounds. He never has mail forwarded; it just piles up, sometimes for as long as two months. You could call him, you know.”
“I’ve tried. No luck. Actually, I don’t know which is worse—the fear that he will answer or the fear that he won’t. No, a letter is best. I’ll just have to wait it out. I still can’t believe Mam told me to go for it. Does that surprise you?”
Susan thought about it. “No, not really. All Mam ever wanted was for us to be happy, to be a family. She made her mistakes just like we did—and she learned from them the way we’re going to have to. Mam’s one wise lady, Maggie. Her seal of approval can make you happy. So that’s exactly what she gave you.”
“I wish I called her before I sent Rand away. I didn’t know. I expected her to choose up sides.”
“You dope. She did. She picked you, if that’s the way you want to think of it. You have to get it out of your head that it’s you versus Sawyer. That’s not the way it is.”
“Go take care of your baby. I hear her crying,” Maggie said, not unkindly. “I’ll think about what you just said while I prepare a gastronomical delight for Saturday.”
“I’m partial to peach cobbler, if that makes a difference.”
“Cole likes it, too. Peach cobbler it is.”
Peacefully nursing little Jessie in the old nursery, Susan had a clear view of the corridor. She watched in stunned amazement as her aunt Amelia stalked into the room she shared with Cary. She continued to watch and puzzle over her aunt’s actions, when, approximately five minutes later, two huge traveling bags were pushed into the hall by Amelia’s foot. An oversize plastic bag, the kind bowlers and athletes used, was pitched down the hall ahead of the suitcases. There was anger in Amelia’s straight back, and strange sounds seemed to be coming from her mouth.
Something was wrong. Susan could feel herself start to tremble. She’d played out a scene much like this once herself. Cary was leaving, Amelia was leaving, or they were both leaving. Where were Maggie and the boys? She looked at her watch: four o’clock, too early for the boys to be home from school. Maggie was probably in the study or out riding.
It was five-fifteen when Amelia once again stalked down the hall to her room. This time Susan had a clear view of her aunt’s face. It looked old, beaten, and drawn. So, she thought, it was Cary who was leaving. Did he even know?
Susan willed the small bundle in her arms to burp. It took a while, but Jessie finally complied, and Susan sighed with relief. She kissed the downy head, felt the baby’s diaper, and then laid her down to sleep. She rocked the cradle a few times just for the pleasure of doing it, and then closed the door halfway.
To knock or not to knock on Amelia’s door. Susan put her ear to the wood and heard the sound of hard, deep sobbing. Maggie. She had to find Maggie.
Maggie was just coming up the steps, boots and riding crop in her h
and. When she saw Susan’s wild eyes and trembling lips she drew her sister into her room. “What is it, Suse? What’s wrong? It isn’t Jessie, is it?” Maggie asked in alarm.
“No, it’s Amelia.” Quickly, Susan recounted the scene she’d seen played out for her. “She’s in her room now, sobbing.”
“Do you think we should interfere? Amelia might want to be alone. I mean, this is between her and Cary. She’s been real touchy lately. I knew something was wrong when she came back from New York. Mam would know.”
“Mam isn’t here,” Susan said curtly. “She’s really hurting, Maggie.”
Maggie licked her lips. “Okay, but I don’t think she’s going to appreciate this.” She rapped softly on Amelia’s door and then turned the knob. Amelia was lying on the bed, sobbing into her pillow, great hulking sobs that shook her slim shoulders. Susan and Maggie looked at each other helplessly for a moment. Then Susan climbed on the bed from the right side, Maggie from the left. It was Maggie who gently drew Amelia to her. She was stunned at how thin the woman was. “What can we do, Amelia?” Maggie asked soothingly.
“Nothing. I already did it. It’s over. I’ve been such a fool. How all of you must have laughed at me.”
“No one has ever laughed at you, Amelia. What did you do? If you’ve done something foolish, you’re entitled. We’re all fools at one time or another. Talk to us, Amelia. Perhaps we can help.”
Amelia started slowly, haltingly. Then the words began to speed up, and soon she was like a runaway car down a steep hill.
Susan looked at Maggie and then at her aunt. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. “When we fuck up, we really fuck up.”
Maggie burst into hysterical laughter. She’d never heard Susan say so much as “damn.” “We sure do!” Amelia nodded miserably.
“Maybe you should talk to Cary one more time,” Susan said softly, ever the peacemaker.
Amelia sat bolt upright on the bed. “Why? So I can listen to more lies? No, thanks. Tell me, what would you have done? When you’d had enough, didn’t you leave Jerome? Maggie, when Cranston got to you, didn’t you leave? What makes me different?”
“He’ll come back; you know that,” Maggie told her.
“I took his keys off his ring before I left. Don’t let him in, Maggie. Promise me.”
“I promise, if that’s what you want. Look at us. We’re all in the same boat and not a paddle among us.” She hesitated. “What are you going to do, Amelia?”
“I’m going back to England on the first available plane. Susan, will you call and make me a reservation on the Concorde? Book me a flight to New York. I’ll sit in the airport. This place,” Amelia said, looking around, “has caused me nothing but grief my whole life. Why I thought it would be different now is beyond me. Maggie, you’ll help me pack, won’t you?”
“Of course, if that’s what you really want. But what about your house? You’ve done so much work on it.” She struggled for just the right words. “Sometimes, Amelia, when you do things in haste or hatred, they can’t ever be made right. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“I’m not an idiot, Maggie, just a fool. I know exactly what you’re saying. You’re even thinking of all the mistakes you made with Sawyer. But this is different. Cary was my life—I made him my life. I didn’t leave room for anything else.”
Maggie felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. She forced herself to speak calmly. “It’s not too late. You could go back and talk to Cary. I mean really talk. This time listen to what he says. Don’t just hear him, listen, Amelia.”
“Is that what you’d do, Maggie?” Amelia asked tearfully as she threw her clothes into an open suitcase.
It took Maggie so long to answer that both Amelia and Susan stopped what they were doing to wait for her reply. “If I loved him with all my heart, yes. I wouldn’t give up without a fight.”
“Will you please look at me?” Amelia cried. “Do I look like I have any fight left? I’m an old woman. Eileen Farrell is just a name. There will always be Eileen Farrells. And each one will be younger as I get older.”
Maggie bit down on her tongue. When she tasted her own blood, she grabbed Amelia by the arm. “You aren’t running away from Cary or Eileen. You’re running away from yourself. Admit it, Amelia. You’re a Coleman and you’re copping out. For shame. I thought you were tougher than that. We’re all that’s left. Fall back and regroup! Go talk to a shrink and get it all in perspective, but make sure you know the reason. It’s you, Amelia.”
“We’re all that’s left! You fool, we’re all there ever was. Your mother wasn’t a Coleman, only by marriage. We didn’t have a choice. Maybe you are right.” Amelia turned to look at Susan, who had just gotten off the phone. “What’s the verdict, Suse?”
“There’s a ten-o’clock flight to New York. You can pick up your ticket at the airport. I told them you would American Express it. You have a seat on tomorrow’s Concorde flight.”
Maggie’s shoulders slumped. “How about some coffee? A sandwich or something.”
“I’ll take the coffee and a chicken sandwich.” Amelia looked at herself in the dresser mirror. “I’m going to have to wear dark glasses,” she muttered.
Maggie turned to stare at her aunt. “You only have to wear dark glasses if you want to wear them. The choice is yours. You have nothing to hide, Amelia.”
“My age,” Amelia whimpered. “I have to hide my age.”
Susan crossed the room in three strides. Maggie held up her hand to stop her sister. “Then hide it. If you want to hide behind dark glasses to keep the boogeyman away, then you do it. I’ll get the coffee.” She made a motion for Susan to follow her. When the door closed behind her, Maggie sagged against it.
“You were a little hard on her, don’t you think?”
“Maybe I wasn’t hard enough. When you give up the fight, it’s all over. You exist. But this is as much as we’re going to interfere. Do you agree?” Susan nodded. “If Cary comes here, we don’t know anything. Let’s see what kind of man he really is. If he’s what I think he is, he’s going to sweat it out. He won’t go after her the way she wants. And that’s when we’ll know who Amelia Coleman Nelson
Assante really is.”
“I feel so sorry for her. I never thought of her as old. For me she’s never changed. I don’t understand how that could be so important to her. So many things in life that are more important, yet she’s only worried about her age.”
“That house of her mother’s was important to her. She actually used to light up a room when she came in at the end of the day. Cary was so proud of her. Where did that go? I can’t believe that he got mixed up with that little snot Eileen. If he did, she engineered it. She had her claws out for Rand, too.”
“I think, if you want my honest gut opinion, that Cary is a victim. I think there’s an explanation for everything. He loved Amelia.”
“Past tense?” Maggie asked.
“I haven’t been as close to the situation as you. I’ve been busy with Jessie—and coming to terms with her disability. But I’ve accepted it now, so I can go on and do the best I can. No one can ask more of you than your best.”
“Good girl, Suse. Come on, help me with the coffee. I don’t think any of us are going to be hungry this evening. Didja ever notice how good we all are at stirring our food around the plates?”
“Yeah, I noticed.... She’s going to be all right, isn’t she, Maggie?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to hit her hard once she’s back in England. If Cary is a no-show, I can’t even imagine what she’ll do. All we can do is be supportive. I’ll call Mam after she leaves and give her the facts. I hate to burden her, though. It’s time we left her alone. But I’m glad they’re coming for the christening. Have you heard from Sawyer?”
“Not yet. I was going to call her this weekend. She’ll come through.”
Sawyer didn’t come through. It was Maggie who held Jessica Margaret in her arms for the christening.
It was a private ceremony with just the family. Cole, dressed in a new suit, stood quietly next to his mother, watching the proceeding with narrowed eyes. Billie, Thad, and Riley sat at the front of the church. Ferris Armstrong stood in the back next to Cary Assante. Both men left quietly before the family started the walk back down the long center aisle.
Billie and Thad stayed for mid-afternoon dinner and caught an early-evening flight to New York.
There was no mention of Sawyer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rand Nelson waved to his mother as she took off down the lane on her bicycle. The sight of her maneuvering the old one-speed made him smile, as usual. He still couldn’t get used to having her here, with him. He’d been shocked and surprised a month ago when he’d received the call to pick her up at Heathrow Airport. She’d done little talking on the way back to the house, but what she had told him was enough to make him angry. Not with Cary, but with her. He’d tried to talk sense to her, and she’d listened politely, but he knew she hadn’t really heard a word he’d said.
But she’d changed a great deal since then. She’d put on some weight. She was letting her hair color fade out. Her artificial nails and phony eyelashes were gone. She made no effort to coat her eyes with the makeup she used to buy by the pound; they looked wistful now, but alive. She was quite beautiful, possibly the prettiest woman he’d ever known.
For the first few weeks Amelia hovered close to the phone and was outside, rain or shine, when the postman arrived. Eventually she’d given that up; these days she forgot to pick up the mail unless he reminded her. Once she’d had her old bicycle fixed, she’d begun to take long rides on the country lanes, sometimes asking him to join her. He could do more than relate to Amelia now: he could actually understand.
There’d been no phone calls from Texas for him, only that short letter from Maggie after the holidays. His guilt was so overpowering, he couldn’t make himself pick up a pen or the telephone to make things right. In her own way Amelia was handling things better than he.
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