“I think I do know. I think Sharilyn did what she thought was best for you. She was a woman alone, and you weren’t exactly an easy kid to handle. And she knew that your grandfather would take you in hand and—”
“Stop.”
“No. Listen. She knew that your grandfather would be able to deal with you.”
“That’s garbage, Meggie May. Sentimental garbage.”
“No, it’s not. She wanted—”
“You don’t know her. You don’t know what the hell she wanted.” His red-rimmed eyes gleamed brightly now, with anger. And something else. Something deep and old and ugly with hurt.
“Oh, Nate...” Involuntarily, she reached across and touched his hand.
He jerked back as if she’d burned him. “Don’t.”
“Nate, please—”
“No. Back off.”
“If you’ll only give her a chance.”
“Forget it. She’ll get no chance from me.”
“But why not?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“I do. Please. Tell me. Let me understand.”
He looked out the window, at the lights of L.A. beyond the carport, and then back at her. “You just have to keep pushing.”
“I really want to understand.”
“Fine. All right. The damn woman sold me.”
Meggie frowned. “Sold you?”
“When I was fourteen years old, she sold me to my grandfather.”
“Sold you—for money?”
Nate looked at her squarely; now his eyes were flat black stones. “Yeah, for money.”
“But how—”
“When my father died, my grandfather offered my mother fifteen thousand dollars if she would give me up.”
“Not...”
“Yeah.” He looked out the window again, at the darkness and the tiny lights that went on and on, up onto the surrounding hills and all the way to the horizon line.
“But how do you know that?”
“I overheard him make her the offer.”
“Overheard?”
“Right.” Nate rubbed a hand down his face. “My mother thought I was out running wild when she had her little talk with him. But I came in through the back. And I listened in. I heard my grandfather say a lot of nasty things about my father—what a loser he was, what a disgrace to the Bravo name.” Nate made a low, scoffing sound. “Everything he said was true, of course. But all the same, I hated him for saying it, for being so damn smug about it. He talked a lot about how he knew it was partly his fault, the way my father had turned out. That he’d been too tough at the wrong times—and not loving enough in general. He told my mother he wanted to make sure I had a chance to be the man my father wasn’t. And that she’d be doing me a favor to take the money and disappear.”
“What did she say to all that?”
“Not a damn thing. He did all the talking. Finally, when he’d said it all, he told her he’d come back the next day for her answer. Then he left.”
“What did you do then?”
“I came out of my hiding place. I begged her not to do it. I said we could make it, together, that we could get by. Maybe we didn’t have the kind of life other people thought was a good life. But it was our life. I thought it mattered. I thought we had each other and that that was the bottom line.”
A small, sympathetic sound escaped Meggie.
Nate shot her a hard glance, then turned away again. “Don’t look at me like that. It was years ago. And you’re right. I did well enough at the ranch, in the end. But I’m not giving an inch when it comes to that woman. She took the money and sent me away. She said it was the best thing for me. But that was just an excuse she made so that she could get rid of me—so that she could be free.”
Meggie watched him as he stared on at the lights beyond the window. She ached for the boy he’d been—and she understood at last why he’d grown so angry every time she tried to give him money in return for all he’d agreed to do for her. What she couldn’t understand was why he wouldn’t let go of his anger at Sharilyn. It had been so many years, after all. Certainly time enough to get beyond the hurt. And Sharilyn so clearly wanted to reach out to him. What ever kind of mother she had been years ago, anyone could see she was a kind, thoughtful person now. Why not make peace with her? What harm could that possibly do?
Nate looked down into his empty mug and then up into Meggie’s eyes. “So that’s that. She wanted to be free. And she is free. And I don’t want a damn thing to do with her.”
“Oh, Nate, I still really believe that—”
“Look. It doesn’t matter what you believe. She wanted freedom, and she’s got it. And I understand her. Because I’m just like her.”
“But you don’t understand her. Not really. You’re just getting even with her, that’s all. You’re just nursing a grudge—hurting her and yourself, too—because you felt abandoned when she gave you up. Have you ever thought that it’s just possible she really did do it for your own good? It’s just possible it hurt her to lose you as much as it hurt you to be sent away. You should—”
“Meggie.” His voice was as hard as his eyes.
“What?”
“I don’t need anyone telling me what I should do.”
“But I—”
“This is my damn life. You’ve got no right to tell me how I ought to live it. Am I making myself clear here?”
Meggie stared into his cold, remote face. And it occurred to her that she’d got herself into a losing battle here, one that had only ended up making him angry at her.
“Am I making myself clear?”
She sighed. “Yes. All right.”
“All right, what?”
She spoke with measured calm. “You’ve made yourself clear.”
“Good.” He lifted his mug from the table and set it away from him, in a gesture of finality. “And now that we’ve wrapped up the subject of Sharilyn, let’s finish up the rest of this mess.”
She frowned at him, not understanding. “Finish up?”
“Meggie, let’s stop playing games.”
“Games?”
He shook his head. “You’ve been keeping something from me, for a while now. Haven’t you?”
Reality started to dawn. “Well, I—”
“A pretty important little piece of information.”
Her heart thudded to a stop, then started thundering. “Nate, let’s not—”
“We’ve been having such a great time, playing house.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
He prodded. “Haven’t we?”
She closed her eyes.
“Haven’t we?”
“Yes. All right.”
“All right, what?”
She gave him the words he’d demanded to hear. “We’ve been having a great time.”
“But there was a goal. Wasn’t there?”
She only stared at him.
“Wasn’t there?”
“Nate, please—”
“Just give me an answer.”
“Yes. All right. Fine. A goal, yes.”
“And what was the goal, Meggie?”
“Stop it.”
“Meggie. What was the goal?”
She looked out the window. “For me to get pregnant.”
“What was that? Speak up.”
“You can be so cruel.”
“The goal, Meggie. Name me the goal.”
She faced him. “That’s enough.”
“Then just tell me. Have we reached the goal here?”
She sat very straight.
“Have we, Meggie?”
She made her tone as cold as his. “Yes, Nate. We have.”
“Fine, then. You’ve got everything you needed from me. And it’s time you went on home.”
Chapter Ten
Nate started calling the airlines right then, at three-thirty in the morning. He wanted her out of his hair ASAP. But it was Thanksgiving weekend. After an hour of callin
g, he found nothing available—unless she wanted to try standby—until Monday morning. He reserved a seat on the Monday flight.
He looked at Meggie with grim expectation when he gave her the information. She knew he was waiting for her to volunteer to go and sit at the airport. She didn’t volunteer. Monday was three days away. A lot could happen in three days.
She had no right to hope he might change his mind, and she knew it. Yet hope burned like an eternal flame within her. She had promised herself not to try to hold him. But now that the moment to let him go had come, she refused to rush toward it. She would take the flight on Monday. But until then, he could just put up with her.
Which was exactly what he did: he put up with her. He slept on the couch Friday night and he spoke to her only when necessary. He waited for her to get on that plane and get out of his life.
Saturday afternoon, while Nate was out doing heaven knew what, Dolores knocked on the door. One look at Meggie’s face and Dolores demanded, “Okay, what did that man do to you?”
Meggie ushered her in and gave her coffee and pumpkin pie and told her everything.
After calling Nate several shocking names in Spanish, Dolores told Meggie, “Still, we must remember, that man is wild and crazy for you. He cannot keep his hands off of you. And sometimes, when he looks at you...” Dolores made a show of fanning herself. Then she winked at Meggie. “Maybe you will just have to drive him mad with desire, eh? So he cannot let you go.”
Meggie shook her head. “Dolores, he slept on the couch last night. He’s very careful not to give me a chance to drive him mad with desire.”
Dolores muttered more imprecations in Spanish. Then she brightened a little. “Ah well, at least there will be a little one. A woman needs her babies. A baby is life. And who can say? You do have a little time, to tempt him, before you go. And that baby will always be there, something you both share for all eternity.”
Meggie sighed, not particularly heartened. “I guess so.”
That evening, Nate didn’t come home. Meggie made turkey noodle soup and ate alone, hardly tasting the food, staring out the window, longing for him and calling herself a fool.
She went to bed at ten, then tossed and turned for hours. Finally, sometime after two, she drifted into a fitful sleep.
When she got up in the morning, she found Nate sleeping on the couch. They sat down to breakfast together. He read the Times as he ate. When he was finished, he rinsed his dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher.
“I’ve got to go away overnight,” he said.
She looked up from her half-empty plate. “Liar.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be back tomorrow, in time to take you to LAX.”
“Don’t bother. I can take a taxi.”
“I said I’d be here in time. I will.”
She couldn’t stop herself from giving it one more try. “Nate, if you’ll only—”
“We had an agreement. You have what you needed. Now let it go.”
At that moment, hope finally left her. It drained from her, leaving her empty. And sad. She looked out at the parking lot and the carports. “All right. See you tomorrow, then.”
He went back to the bedroom—she supposed to pack an overnight bag. A few minutes later, she heard the front door close. She watched him, when he appeared at the carports, tossing his bag behind the seat, pulling his black car out. And driving away.
Mrs. Tyrell knocked on Meggie’s door that afternoon. “I hear you’re leaving us.”
Meggie gave her neighbor a rueful smiled. “Dolores has been talking.”
Mrs. Tyrell laughed, a low, velvety sound. “Everybody in both buildings knows. And we will miss you.”
Meggie stepped back. “Will you come in? I could use a little company.”
Mrs. Tyrell nodded.
Meggie asked, “Coffee?”
“How about tea, for a change?”
Meggie brewed a pot of herbal tea and they sat at the table, sipping.
“My mother always drank tea,” Mrs. Tyrell said musingly. “She felt coffee was for barbarians.”
Meggie asked, “Were you raised here, in L.A.?”
“Oh, no. I’m from Philadelphia. And I lied about Terence.”
Meggie didn’t know anyone by that name. “Terence?”
“My husband.”
“Oh.” Meggie stared across the table at her neighbor, recognizing the moment when an acquaintance becomes a friend. “I didn’t know your husband’s first name.”
“Now you do. And I’m Lurline.”
“It’s pretty.”
“My mama chose it. And I didn’t meet Terence at the apartment in the Valley.”
“You didn’t?”
Lurline shook her head. “I found him again there, almost thirty years later. But I met him when I was eighteen years old.”
“In Philadelphia?”
“Um-hm. I loved him the moment I saw him.”
Meggie instantly thought of Nate. “Oh, I know how that is. What happened?”
“My mama didn’t approve of him.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. ‘A wild boy in a cheap suit,’ she called him. She forbade me to see him. And I always did what Mama said.”
“You turned him away.”
“I did. He went to New York. And then came here. Had his big, fancy career in the record industry. He married three times, before I came to get him.”
“Three times?”
Lurline smiled. “He has five children. I adore them all.”
“And what about you?”
“I never married,” Lurline said. “Until I found my Terence again.” She leaned closer to Meggie. “That was after Mama died, of course.” Lurline laughed her velvety laugh.
“You went looking for him when your mother died?”
“Yes, I did. When Mama died, I sold her house and packed up most of her fine, old things and moved out West—all the way to the San Fernando Valley.”
“You knew where to find him?”
Lurline nodded. “That was my one rebellion against Mama in all those years. I kept track of my Terence.”
“You wrote to him?”
“Never.” Lurline’s full lips were pursed in disapproval. “He was a married man. Most of the time.”
“But how—”
“I had ways.”
“So. You found him and married him.”
“That’s right. So never say that love is over. It might just be waiting. Sometimes it waits for years and years.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Yes. Do.”
Meggie cast Lurline a hesitant look.
“Go ahead,” Lurline said. “Ask.”
“All right. Did all of your fine things once belong to your mother?”
“Yes.” Lurline sighed. “Sometimes, quite frankly, I feel as if they own me. Especially all that mahogany furniture. The scale is so wrong for our apartment. What I wouldn’t give for a little bleached oak here and there.”
Meggie laughed. “So sell some of it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. Terence wouldn’t let me.”
Meggie blinked in surprise. “Why not?”
Lurline’s smile grew secretive. “Oh, I shouldn’t say.”
“You should. Come on.”
“He gets such...pleasure from it all.”
“From your mother’s things?”
“Yes. He says every time he sits at her table, eats off her dishes—or sleeps in her bed, he has the satisfaction of knowing that the wild boy in the cheap suit got Mama’s precious daughter after all.” Now Lurline looked pensive. “But maybe someday the thrill will wear off. Don’t you think?”
“Who can say?”
“Oh, Meggie, you are so right. Who can say? When it comes to a man, who can ever say?”
Meggie spent another night alone. Nate showed up as promised, early the next morning, in time to drive her to the airport.
The sun shone down bright and cheerful when they went out t
o get in the car.
The Garnicas, Hector Leverson, Edie and Peg all came out to tell her goodbye. Dolores grabbed Meggie and burst into tears. And Hector told her he would never forget her.
Edie said, “I will miss our little strolls, dear.”
Peg added, “Don’t stay away forever. Come back and see us sometime.”
And Nate just stood there, waiting for his neighbors to go back to their apartments so he could take Meggie to the airport and be free of her.
Strange. Meggie had told herself during the whole of their brief time together that she knew it was destined to end. She had convinced herself that she believed it.
But she hadn’t believed it, not really.
Deep in her heart, she’d been sure that Nate would see the light. That the happiness they’d shared would finally convince him he should spend his life at her side.
It hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, he had given her exactly what she’d asked of him.
And no more.
Chapter Eleven
Meggie arrived at the small airport in Sheridan late that afternoon. Farrah was waiting to take her the rest of the way home. Both six-year-old Kate and little Davey had come, too.
Meggie was relieved to see the children. Because of them, she wouldn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions during the drive to the ranch. The questions would come later, of course. But Meggie told herself she’d be better able to deal with them then. And if both Farrah and Sonny were there when they talked, then Meggie would only have to tell the sad story once.
Meggie spent most of the drive staring silently out the window at the miles and miles of pastureland, now cloaked in a glaring mantle of stark white. The cottonwoods in the creek bottoms were stripped bare, sticking up their naked branches toward the steel-gray sky.
That night, Farrah and Sonny insisted that Meggie have dinner at the bunkhouse.
As soon as the kids were in bed, they sat her down and asked what was going on. Fed up with lies and halftruths, Meggie told them everything.
“So he never meant to stay with you,” Sonny declared indignantly when she was through. “He planned all along to walk away as soon as he got you pregnant.”
Meggie sighed. “Sonny. It was what I asked him to do. What I needed him to do. Or we would have lost the Double-K.”
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