by Linda Warren
Before Macy could answer, the doorbell rang and she hurried to the door. Her father, Delia and a pretty blond woman stood there. She had to be Nina, her father’s wife.
For years Macy had hated this woman because she thought she’d taken her father away. Looking at her now, Macy felt no hate, just admiration for a woman who had been there when her father had needed someone.
Ted made the introductions. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Nina said.
“Likewise, come on in,” Macy said.
When Ted saw Irene he introduced her just as politely.
“Isn’t this cozy?” was Irene’s response.
Macy flashed her a warning glance and her mother immediately backed off.
Delia stood transfixed staring at Zoë playing with the dogs. “Is that her?” she asked quietly.
“Yes. That’s Zoë,” Macy replied.
“She’s so big.”
“She’s almost six months old now. Would you like to hold her?”
Delia lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid I might want her back?”
Macy looked squarely at her. “Do you?”
In that instant Macy knew if Delia wanted to love and raise her daughter, she would find the strength to let her. She didn’t need a baby to feel like a woman. All she needed was Beau. She could love him completely without the pain, just like she discovered when she’d sat in the park earlier. But it was too late.
Delia kept staring at the baby. “I don’t feel any connection to her. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.” Ted rubbed her shoulder. “You’ve just been through a great deal.”
“I’ve done a lot of bad things.”
“So have I. We’ll get you back on your medication and get you some counseling. That will help you to understand your feelings.”
“I don’t want her to ever know who I am.”
“No more secrets,” Macy said. “Zoë will know who her mother is.”
Delia frowned. “Why do you have to do that?”
“Think of all the pain you’ve suffered because a secret was kept from you. I don’t want Zoë to go through that.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“Like you hate Mom?” Macy didn’t want to force the issue, but Delia had to confront her feelings about her mother.
Delia stared at Irene. Irene was the first to speak. “I made a mistake and if I could go back and change things, I would do it in a heartbeat. It would have saved my marriage, my sanity and the respect of my daughters.”
“Did my biological father want me?”
“He died when you were four and he knew nothing about you. Ted is your father and that’s the way I wanted it.”
Delia chewed on her lip and didn’t say anything.
Irene moved toward her. “Could we talk, please?”
Delia shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” Irene suggested. They moved toward the door. “I really hate your hair that color.”
“I knew you would.”
As they walked out, Macy asked her father, “How did it go with the police?”
“She’s out on bail and the hearing is in six weeks. I promised to make sure she shows up for court. There’s still the matter of the car and money the Wallstons gave her, but we’ll get it sorted out. In the meantime she’s staying with Nina and me.”
“That’s very nice of you.” She addressed her words to Nina.
“It’s about time I got acquainted with Ted’s daughters. I know Delia has problems and it won’t be easy, but nothing in life worth anything is.”
Macy had a feeling she was really going to like this woman.
Nina glanced at Zoë. “May I please hold her?”
“Of course.”
While Nina was cuddling Zoë, Macy looked at her father. They’d come a long way since that day in Houston when she was forced to speak to him.
She smiled. “You really came through for Delia.”
“I’m glad it all worked out. You’re going to be a great mother.” He looked around. “Is Beau coming by later?”
“No.” She swallowed hard. “Beau’s not coming back.”
“Macy.” Hearing the anguish in her voice he took her in his arms and held her.
She gripped him tightly, holding on to a man who had meant the world to her. And still did. “I’m sorry for all the pain you’ve been through and I’m sorry for judging you without knowing the truth.”
“It’s okay, Macy.” He smoothed her hair, then he drew back and looked into her eyes. “Don’t be like me, afraid to take a risk, a chance at life. It may be the only chance you get for real happiness.”
“I already know that.” He didn’t know that Beau had already rejected her vow of love. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he thought she loved him for the wrong reason.
Soon everyone was gone. Her mother was the last to leave. She stood at the door, her suitcase at her feet.
“Did you and Delia have a good talk?” Macy asked.
“Mmm. We have a lot of things to work out. Forgiveness will take time.”
“Yeah. We’ll never be the family we once were, but now we know each other’s faults and weaknesses and we can build a better relationship.”
“You are so like your father, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. When the real world surfaced, or should I say the real me, he couldn’t deal with it.” She touched Macy’s cheek. “Don’t be afraid of the real world.”
Macy swallowed, feeling as if her mother were looking into her soul. “I’ll try.”
“I guess I’ll go home and see how Perry likes the real me.”
“You’re not turning back into the youthful Irene?”
“No.” Suddenly she grabbed Macy and they hugged tightly. “Take care of yourself and that baby. Call if you need anything.”
“You used to say that every time I went back to college.”
Irene drew away. “That was your mother and she’s back. ’Bye, Macy.”
Her mother picked up her suitcase and ran to the rental car.
Macy closed the door and the condo seemed so quiet, but it wasn’t empty. She had a baby, her animals. What else did she need?
Beau. She needed Beau.
That night she cried herself to sleep. She allowed herself that weakness. That was the woman in her. Tomorrow she’d be stronger and able to do what she had to. She refused to live a life without Beau. One way or the other she had to make him understand how much she loved him, which might prove to be the biggest challenge of her life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BEAU SAT IN THE BAR of the hotel, drinking straight bourbon. By midnight he was hoping he wouldn’t remember his name. Or hers. By midnight he wouldn’t care that Macy had said “I love you” at the wrong time, in the wrong place and for the wrong reason.
“Hey, Beau, need some company?”
He squinted at Tuck. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tuck straddled the barstool next to his. “Having a very good evening. The question is, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you out with Macy celebrating the victory?”
Beau swallowed the last of the bourbon in the glass and winced. “Don’t say her name.”
Tuck watched him for a moment. “Let’s sit at a table and talk.”
“Nope. I’m all through talking.” He raised his glass to the bartender. “Another, please.”
“Humor me,” Tuck said, and walked to a table.
Beau took the glass from the bartender and followed Tuck. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves earlier and he’d left his jacket and tie somewhere. He didn’t bother to look because he didn’t really care.
“What happened?” Tuck asked as Beau staggered to a seat.
“She said ‘I love you.’”
Tuck removed his hat, laid it on the table and scratched his head. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Beau took a swallow of the amber liquid. “Not that way.”
“Beau, what a
re you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”
“She has Zoë, a baby. Now she can love me.”
“And…that’s wrong somehow?”
“Yes, dammit.” He slammed his glass on the table, the liquid splashing onto his hand. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much of anything, but the pain driving him. “I needed her to trust in me and my love. I…I told her I didn’t need a child. All I needed was her, but she didn’t trust my feelings.”
“Oh.”
“Why do women have to ground you up into little bitty pieces and spit you out?”
“Is that how you’re feeling?”
“Yep. Used up—emotionally.” He downed another swallow. “This time Beau McCain is really moving on.”
“How many times have you told yourself that?”
“Don’t make me think, Tuck. Just go away and leave me to my misery.”
“Sorry. I can’t do that. You’re the one who’s big on talking, keeping the brothers together, keeping the family together through good times and bad. If I walked away and left you here, I wouldn’t be much of a friend to you or the brothers.”
Beau leaned across the table and whispered, “I’ll never tell.”
Tuck leaned closer, too. “You’re drunk on your ass and about to fall out of that chair. C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
“Nope. Got a room here.” Beau looked around the dimly lit bar. “This is a hotel, right?”
“Yeah. Where’s your room key?”
“In my jacket.”
“Where’s your jacket?”
“Haven’t got a clue.” The room tilted and his head felt fuzzy and he recognized he’d reached his limit. He was stone drunk. But he remembered his name. And hers. Damn!
THE AUGUST MORNING dawned like a beacon pointed at Beau’s skull. His head throbbed with a burning ache and the brightness of the day almost blinded him. For a moment he wondered where he was, then the evening came flooding back with painful clarity. He sat up, realizing he was still in his clothes and that someone was pounding at the door, making the ache in his head unbearable.
He quickly staggered to the door determined to stop the sound that was splitting open his head. Yanking the door wide with a frown, he saw Tuck holding a cup of coffee. He grabbed it immediately.
“Not feeling too good, huh?” Tuck asked.
Beau sat on the bed. “How did you know I was here?”
Tuck lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t remember last night—in the bar?”
“Vaguely.” He sipped the coffee. “Thought you were there, but again I could have imagined it.”
Tuck pulled up a chair. “I was there.”
“Didn’t you and Caleb go home?”
“Caleb did. I stayed.”
“Why? You don’t have a vehicle here, do you?”
“No. It’s at the Austin airport.”
“So…? Don’t make me ask questions because I’m not in a good mood.”
“You weren’t last night, either.”
“I don’t remember much about it. Just…” He took a quick swallow of coffee. “So why are you still in Waco?”
“When we were booking Delia yesterday, I met a police officer I worked a case with a couple of years ago. She said she’d take me to my car if I stayed over, so I did. We had dinner, talked and came back here—that’s when I saw you.”
Beau winced. “Damn. Sorry I ruined your evening.”
Tuck grinned. “You didn’t ruin my evening. I had a helluva of a good time.”
“Here I was thinking you were pining for Grace.”
“Grace?” Tuck frowned. “Are you still drunk?”
Beau nursed his coffee. “No, thank God, but every time Grace’s name is mentioned you act like you’ve just received an electrical shock.”
“That’s true. The woman pushes every button I have.”
“There has to be a reason for that.”
“Oh, no, you’re not turning the tables on me,” Tuck said with a sly grin. “Before I left this morning I wanted to check and make sure that you were still alive.”
“Barely, and speak softly, please.”
“You were in pretty bad shape last night.”
He stared into the black liquid. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.”
“Mmm.” Tuck leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’m the last one to give advice on women, but you’ve loved Macy for a long time. I know you pretty well and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”
Beau didn’t have a reply. He just stared into the coffee.
“Macy’s been through a helluva lot, losing a father, a child, going through a divorce and then finding out her sister is a half sister. But she always finds comfort and strength in you. So she didn’t say ‘I love you’ when you wanted her to. She finally said it. That’s the main thing. Don’t be pigheaded or you’re going to lose what you’ve always wanted—a life with Macy.”
Beau set his cup on the nightstand. “I didn’t know you gave advice to the lovelorn.”
“I don’t.” Tuck stood. “But I hate to see you in this much pain.”
“Thanks, Tuck.” Tuck was a good friend and Beau appreciated that. But he had to come to grips with what he was feeling on his own.
“I better go. A lady’s waiting to drive me home.”
“Love ’em and leave ’em, Tuck,” Beau teased. “Maybe I need to take a lesson from you.”
“There’s no happiness in that, Beau. You’ve found the real thing so you better hold on for all it’s worth. Go see Macy and make this right.”
“Maybe.”
Tuck stopped at the door. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” Beau nodded. “I’ll survive.”
He’d told Caleb they were survivors, but after Tuck left, Beau wondered how he was going to survive a broken heart—again.
BEAU WENT TO HIS CONDO, showered and changed, then he packed a bag. He was leaving. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he was leaving. He had to clear his head and think straight. There was no sign of Macy and he was glad. For the first time, he didn’t want to see her.
He stopped at his office so Jon and Liz would know his plans. “You did a great job on the Randall case,” he told Jon.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m going to be gone for a while and I want you to look after the office.”
“You got it.”
After Jon left, Liz looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “What’s going on with you?”
“It’s personal.”
“You’re having a bad midlife crisis if you ask me. Take that cruise.”
“I’m not asking,” he replied, and to soften the words he kissed her cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
Once in his car, he called his mom and dad and told them he was leaving town for a while.
“Okay, dear,” Althea said. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll call.”
“Is Macy going with you?”
He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “No, Mom. I’m going alone.”
“Beau…”
“’Bye, Mom.” He clicked off because he didn’t want to talk about Macy.
Next he headed for the McCain farm. Since school had started Elise and the kids wouldn’t be there and that was okay. He needed to talk to Jake. He drove to the barns and found Jake in the equipment shed with Al, the mechanic.
“Hey, Beau,” Jake said, wiping his hands on a grease rag, and walking toward him. “Congratulations on winning the case for Macy.”
“Could we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.”
They leaned on the wood fence and stared at rows and rows of cotton. Joe McCain had been a cotton farmer and Jake had taken over the farm.
“Every time I come here I have memories of him,” Beau said. “I never thought I was much like him.”
“You’re not.”
“Last night I got s
o drunk that I don’t remember much of it. I guess Dad didn’t remember much either after all those drinking binges.”
“Probably not.” Jake glanced at him. “Why were you drinking?”
Beau told him the truth because they were brothers and they shared a lot of pain when they were kids.
“Beau…”
“He called me the bad son so much that I had to prove that I wasn’t. Maybe that’s why I’m such a good guy, as people call me. I had to be.”
“No. You’re good because that’s just the way you are. You don’t even have to try. It’s just natural.” He paused. “When you were drunk, were you mean and abusive?”
“No.”
“See. There’s nothing bad about you.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“I’m sorry about Macy.”
“Don’t be. I have to sort this out on my own. I just came by to tell you I’ll be gone for a while.”
“Where you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long you plan on being gone?”
“Until…”
“Until you get over Macy,” Jake finished for him.
Beau took a deep breath. “Yeah. That’s about it.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I have to find out for myself—just what the future holds.”
He hugged Jake and headed for his car, finally letting go of the stigma of the bad son. Stopping for a moment, he stared at the rows of cotton and said goodbye to the kid and the man who always had to make everyone happy. It was time he made himself happy. Or as close as he could get.
MACY SPENT HER DAYS waiting for Beau. So far his place was deserted, no sign of life. Where was Beau?
She went to work, cleaned house, took care of Zoë and her animals, but her mind was on Beau. On the third day she broke down and called his office. Liz said he wasn’t in. She didn’t know if Beau had told her to say that, so she phoned Althea. Althea said Beau was out of town and she asked questions Macy couldn’t answer. She finally had to admit that Beau had to get away from her. That hurt more than she ever thought possible. But she wasn’t giving up.
That night as she was putting Zoë down, Beau’s words came back to her. You have to figure out what love means to you. Up until a few days ago she thought she didn’t have the right to love a man anymore. After hearing her parents’ stories, she now saw how absurd that was. Love was a gift, without limits or conditions. That was the way Beau loved her—completely with all her faults. She’d been blinded by so much pain that she couldn’t see that.
