by Linda Warren
“Somehow those moments don’t mean a thing when your dad runs out on you.” Kid spoke the words that were in Chance’s heart. “It tarnishes them in a way I can’t explain.”
T-Bone nodded in understanding. “Try to find some peace, boys, because you can’t go forward if you keep looking back. Good luck in the oil business.”
They shook hands and T-Bone left.
The three of them stood lost in their thoughts.
Chance shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, looking out at the busy metropolis of Houston. Blanche, Shay’s mother, was his father’s lover. He had a hard time grasping that.
“Chance.”
He turned to Cadde.
“Did you ever see Blanche when you were visiting Shay?”
“No. She’s bedridden. I asked once to meet her, but Shay said she didn’t like people seeing her in her condition.”
“Or she was keeping you two apart,” Kid suggested.
“Shay doesn’t know,” he said. “If she did, she would have told me. She wouldn’t keep something like that from me.”
“Are you sure?” Kid pressed.
“Shut up, Kid.”
“You’re not sure. That’s why you’re angry.”
“Kid…”
Cadde got between them. “Leave Chance alone. He has to sort this out on his own and deal with it.”
“And I will.” He headed for the door and didn’t look back. He had to see Shay and couldn’t wait until six.
For years, not knowing the truth had tortured him. Now that he knew who the woman was, he was still tortured. Nothing seemed to ease the pain of that awful night. Would it haunt him for the rest of his life? Shay was the only one who could ease the turmoil inside him.
HE PARKED AT Shay’s house behind a white Honda Civic. Obviously, she had company. As he made his way to the door, it opened and a woman came out.
“Good afternoon,” she said pleasantly.
He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon.”
“I’m the Home Health attendant and I was just leaving. Are you here to see Blanche?”
“Yes,” he replied. It was time he met the lady. He walked inside and closed the door. Shay had to be still working, because the house was very quiet. He headed down a hallway. Two bedrooms were on the left and a third on the right, the door was partially closed. Removing his hat, he pushed it opened and stepped inside.
A frail woman with white hair lay propped up in the bed, looking through a photo album. Oxygen tubing was fixed in her nose. Her beauty had long faded and her face was lined with smoker’s wrinkles. This wasn’t a seductress, a temptress. This was a dying woman. Chance wanted to say something but words failed him.
Blanche closed the album. “You look so much like your father.” Her voice was raspy.
“You knew him well?”
“Oh, yes. He was madly in love with me. All men are.”
Chance was taken aback at her boldness, and any sympathy for her vanished. “Why did you have to take him away from his family?”
“He was bored to death with that little mouse he was married to.”
Chance crushed the rim of his hat in his hand, almost wanting to hit the woman.
“My mother was a beautiful, loving, caring person—someone you could never be.”
“Oh, please. Her three-meals-a-day, clean-the-house type personality bored Chuck to death. He craved excitement, and that’s what I gave him.”
“Mom!” Shay stood in the doorway.
Chance saw the shock and the sadness in her green eyes. In that instant he knew that she knew. She’d known all along that her mother had been his father’s mistress. And she hadn’t told him. She hadn’t said a word, just kept leading him on, letting him think they had a future. His heart stopped and it took a moment before he could catch his breath, a moment before he could accept that what he thought was real was as fake as the woman lying in the bed.
“Oh, Shay,” Blanche said. “Mr. Hardin has come for a visit.”
“Chance, please, could I talk to you outside?” Shay begged.
“No.” He shook his head. “You had plenty of time to talk to me before now. I want the truth and your mother has no qualms about speaking her mind.”
“Chance…”
He turned back to Blanche. “My dad wasn’t rich. What was it about him that made you take him away from his family?”
“He lived in High Cotton,” she said simply.
“Excuse me?” Chance’s voice rose in astonishment.
“You want the truth, Mr. Hardin? I’ll tell you the truth. I love Jack. I’ve always loved him, and your father was my ticket back to High Cotton, back to Jack.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Once Chuck got rid of his frumpy wife we could be together—in High Cotton.”
“But Dad put money down on a house in Houston.”
“That was your father’s idea, not mine. I could make Chuck do anything. My plan was to live in High Cotton, where Jack could see me on another man’s arm. He’d see me again and want me like always. Before long I’d be back at Southern Cross and Renee would be a thing of the past.”
“What about my father?”
“He’d probably go back to his wife. I really didn’t care.”
Chance stepped closer to the bed. He had a death grip on his hat. “You must not have read the Jack Calhoun handbook very well.”
The wrinkles on her face deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“Jack Calhoun was not a forgiving man. Once you cross him, you’ve sealed your fate. He took Renee back because he loved her, and he found out the supposed affair she was having was all lies—made up by you.”
“Jack loved me.”
“Whatever he felt for you was doomed the day you slept with another man. If you had stepped one foot back in High Cotton, Jack would have had you killed and your body would have never been found. And my dad’s life would have been over, too. No one crosses Jack Calhoun.”
“You’re lying,” Blanche insisted.
“You know that I’m not. When Harland brought you a message from Jack in that diner in Giddings, you knew he was telling the truth—either leave of your own free will or leave in a coffin. What was your response? You were on the first bus out of Giddings.”
“Jack was just mad.”
“Jack was dead serious and you knew it. That’s why you got on that bus.” Chance drew a harsh breath. “You used my father for nothing. For some insane, diabolical plan that makes no sense. You’re the most evil person I’ve ever met. You killed my parents just as if you had taken a gun and shot them.”
“Now wait a minute.” Blanche’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. “Shay, are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Get out!” Blanche screamed.
“Gladly.” Chance left the room, holding on to what patience he had left.
“Chance.” Shay caught him at the front door. “Please.”
“No.” He held up a hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to entice me with your eyes, your smile or your body. It’s not going to work this time.”
“I’ve never enticed you.”
“Oh, please. Blanche Dumont is your mother. You know every feminine trick in the book, so let’s end it now while I still have some pride left. Don’t try to see me or contact me. Whatever we had is over.”
He walked out, leaving behind everything he’d thought he wanted, everything he’d thought was real and perfect, only to find out he was being used just like his father.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHAY WASN’T LETTING HIM get away with that. She followed him to the truck. “How dare you say that to me. You were the one pressuring me from the start. I told you I couldn’t get involved, that it was complicated, but you kept on.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Shay,” he said, his hand holding the open door.
“It matters when you accuse me of something I didn’t do. And
don’t you ever imply that I’m like my mother.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a voice that twisted her stomach. “Why couldn’t you have been honest with me?”
“How was I supposed to tell you something like that? It never seemed an appropriate time. I tried to tell you last night, but you wouldn’t let me. I planned to tell you tonight.”
“That’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m a coward. I just couldn’t cause you that much pain—pain like you’re feeling now.”
“Did you ever see my father?” he asked out of the blue.
“Yes. He came here many times. I was about five and I vaguely remember him. He talked about his three sons, and I wondered why he never brought them to play with me. The mind of a five-year-old.”
“Hmm.”
“If I could go back and change things, I’m not sure I would.”
He frowned.
“I would have never gotten to know you and the wonderful man that you are.” She stepped away from the truck. “So hate me if you must, if it eases your pain.”
He looked into her eyes and she felt his agony like a physical blow. “It doesn’t,” he said.
“Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you. Nothing. I will always love you.” She turned and ran into the house. As she slammed the door she heard tires screeching on the pavement. Chance was gone and this time he really wasn’t coming back. When he looked at her, all he could see was what her mother had done to his father. There was no way around that. No way to change the past. They’d been doomed from the start. Tears ran down her face. The ending was just too hard to bear.
“Mommy. Mommy,” Darcy called, rushing into the house.
Shay wasn’t ready to explain the situation to her daughter. But she wouldn’t lie to Darcy, either.
“I saw Chance’s truck. He didn’t say hi.”
Shay tried very hard to hide the tears on her face. She failed.
“Mommy, you’re crying. Why are you crying?”
Shay sank to the floor because her knees could no longer hold her. Darcy curled up in her lap and Shay held her tightly.
“Why are you crying?” Darcy asked again.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Chance and I had an argument and he left.”
“What about?”
Shay closed her eyes, fighting the urge to lie. But she wouldn’t do that this time. She had to tell Darcy the truth. “I did a bad thing. I kept something from Chance and I shouldn’t have. You know what an honest and loyal man he is.”
“Um-hmm.”
“Sweetie.” Shay brushed back Darcy’s hair. “Chance won’t be coming anymore. It’s just you and me again.”
Darcy looked up at her, her glasses askew. “But he loves us.”
Shay’s throat closed up and she fought back the tears.
“And Chance says you have to forgive. That’s what he told me about the Bennett boys. So don’t cry, Mommy.”
Oh God. She prayed for help to handle this.
She straightened Darcy’s glasses. “Go back to Nettie’s. I just need some time alone.”
“But…”
“No buts. Please mind me.”
“Okay.” Darcy picked up Tiny, who was whining at them, and slowly walked toward the kitchen.
Shay pushed herself to her feet and made her way to Blanche’s room. After stepping inside, she slammed the door so hard the pictures on the walls shook.
“How could you be so cruel?”
“I told you to get rid of him. I told you this was going to happen.”
“And you made sure it did by being as vindictive as possible.” Shay heaved a sigh. “And that insane plan. Did you really believe that it would work? That Jack Calhoun would magically be back in your life?”
Blanche pointed a finger at her. “It would have worked if that stupid Chuck hadn’t screwed it up. He screwed up my life, so what do I care if his kid gets his feelings hurt.”
Shay tried to maintain her composure. “What about me? My feelings?”
Blanche looked confused.
“I love him, and to see him hurt like this is tearing me apart. You just had to make his pain worse and for that I will never forgive you. I’ve always been there for you, but you’ve never been there for me. When they found the first tumor, I held you while you cried. When you went through chemo and your hair fell out, I fitted you for a wig and told you that you were still beautiful. When the tumors came back and the doctors said they were inoperable, I was there for you every step of the way. I put my life on hold to care for you.”
“I’m your mother.”
Shay gave a sarcastic laugh. “Now there’s a mouthful. You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”
“Shay, I’m getting tired of your little hissy fit.”
“You know what I’m tired of, Blanche?”
Blanche stared at her with dull eyes.
“I’m tired of caring for an ungrateful, unfeeling excuse for a mother.”
“Shay!” Blanche was shocked and reasonably so. Shay had never spoken to her or anyone else like that before, but anger was driving her on.
“Take a good look around, Mom. This may be the last night you spend in this room.”
“What?”
“I should have put you in a nursing home from the start, like Nettie suggested, but oh no, I had to do the right thing. Prepare yourself, Blanche, because you’re going into one now.”
“This is my house.”
“After I paid off all the debts you had against it, the house became mine. It’s in my name.”
“Shay, you can’t do this. I’m your mother.”
“That never counted for anything before and it doesn’t now.” She turned on her heel and left.
In her room she fell across the bed and let the tears flow. She cried for herself and Darcy, and for the empty days and nights that were to come. She cried for a love that had gotten mangled by the past. But most of all she cried for Chance and the pain she’d caused him.
She felt the bed move and then two little arms went around her neck. “Don’t cry, Mommy. Chance will be back.”
She held her daughter with all the love she had in her. Darcy gave her the strength to face the next day, and the next. She would survive, but life would never be the same again.
CHANCE SAT IN his living room, staring into space, and all he could hear was I will always love you. It was about so much more. Couldn’t she see that? It was about trust and faith. If she had trusted him, had faith in their love, then… Who was he kidding? Her mother had destroyed his parent’s lives, and his, and Cadde’s and Kid’s. There was no way around that. Not even love could surmount that obstacle.
The door opened and Cadde and Kid walked in.
“How did it go?” Kid asked, plopping down onto the sofa.
“She knew. She’s known all along,” he replied in a voice he didn’t recognize.
“I tried to tell you.”
“Shut up,” Cadde said, and sat by Kid. “How are you?”
“I feel as if I’m floating in outer space with a knife stuck in my heart,” Chance answered. And then he told them the rest of the story. He wasn’t keeping any more secrets.
“Son of a bitch.” Kid jumped to his feet. “That’s pure insanity.”
“She didn’t care anything about Dad. He was just a means to an end—getting back to Jack Calhoun.”
“And he would have sliced and diced her up like goose liver,” Cadde said.
“Yeah, but she just won’t let herself believe that. In her demented mind she believes that she was the love of Jack’s life. That’s why she wanted those stupid rings back, and I even encouraged Renee to return them. I wish now that I had encouraged her to stuff them down Blanche’s throat.”
“Come on, little brother, bitterness doesn’t become you,” Kid remarked.
“You know,” Cadde mused, “I was just a kid, but I vaguely remember her. She was
a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Pamela Anderson—a real bombshell sex kitten. Jack bought her a red convertible Cadillac specially made for her. Funny how I remember that.”
“You should see her now,” Chance said. “She’s a cross between the bad witch in The Wizard of Oz, and Dracula.”
“Damn. I need a drink.” Kid headed for the liquor cabinet. “Oh, man, here’s some Kentucky bourbon. How about a shot?”
“Pour away,” Cadde said, and Chance nodded.
Kid handed them each a shot glass and held his up. “Here’s to gorgeous women who make our lives hell. And, Blanche Dumont, may God have mercy on your scheming soul.”
They downed the liquor and Kid poured another round.
“I’m not getting drunk,” Chance stated. “My mind’s messed up enough.”
“Do you have anything better to do?” Kid lifted an eyebrow.
“No.” Chance took the glass.
Kid raised his one more time. “Here’s to the future and Shilah Oil. Under the Hardin boys’ guidance may it prosper for a very long time.”
“Hear, hear!” Cadde toasted and downed another shot, as did Chance and Kid.
Chance placed his glass carefully on the table. “I keep wondering if Blanche could have gotten Dad to live in High Cotton and flaunt their affair in front of Mom. Blanche said she could make him do anything.”
Cadde twisted the glass in his hand. “But I’m betting she couldn’t make him do that. That’s why he was planning to buy a house.” Cadde paused. “I just can’t make myself believe that he would do that to Mom, his first love, his high school sweetheart.”
“Me, neither,” Kid said, resuming his seat. “And since we’ll never know, we get to make the call.” He placed his glass beside Chance’s. “Now, boys, let’s put the past where it belongs—in the past, and get busy running Shilah Oil.”
“Damn, Kid, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Cadde stood. “But it might be a little harder for Chance.”
Chance ran his hands over his face. “It’ll take time.”
His brothers exchanged glances, but he ignored their worried looks.
