“If you’re ready, Miss Benson. It’s time for the unveiling.”
Callie glanced up to find the hospital administrator standing at her side, waiting. Slipping her hand through the crook of his arm, she smiled, her lips trembling at the effort. “Yes, I’m ready.”
The crowd parted, allowing them a path to the raised dais in the center of the room where a round marble table held the draped statue. As they passed through the throng of people, Callie smiled and nodded as cameras flashed, capturing the moment for the benefit of the morning papers.
She took her place beside the statue and waited while the man raised the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please...”
* * *
Judd stood at the fringe of the crowd, his back pressed to a marble column and his arms folded across his chest, silently cussing Hank. If it weren’t for his bartender, he wouldn’t be in Houston, Texas, tempting fate. Instead, he’d be at the Blue Bell sharing a beer with the regulars, or at home, sitting in front of a fire and rubbing Baby’s belly.
He heaved a sigh. But no, he’d knuckled under, and now here he was holding up a column and trying his best to keep a low profile. So far, he’d succeeded at both. The column was still standing and no one had recognized him or so much as looked his way. Not even Callie.
He caught an occassional glimpse of her, though, in the continually shifting swarm of people around her. The top of her head, the glimpse of an emerald sequined shoulder, the graceful flutter of her hand in the air as she spoke. So far, she hadn’t seen him. For the time being, he decided to keep things that way.
A camera flashed at his right and he flinched unconsciously. He glanced in that direction and saw that the camera was aimed at Callie, not at him. He breathed a sigh of relief and returned his gaze to Callie. She was on the arm of some gray-haired man now, moving through the crowd toward the dais. When they reached the platform, the guy picked up a microphone and said something into it, which only those within a foot of him could hear. Gradually the noise abated and the man’s voice lifted above that of the crowd.
“If I could have your attention, please. We are here to celebrate the opening of the new women’s pavilion at City Hospital. In conjunction with the opening, tonight we are unveiling the statue created by Callie Benson, which will be placed on a marble table in the reception area of that wing.” He gestured for Callie to join him at the microphone. “It is my distinct pleasure to present to you, Miss Callie Benson.”
Taking her place at his side, Callie glanced out across the sea of faces as she took the microphone. Judd was surprised to see that her hand shook.
“I want to thank you for the privilege of creating this statue.” Her voice broke and she dipped her head, pausing until she was sure she could control the quiver in her voice. When she lifted her head again, her chin was set in determination. “In sculpting this piece, my hope was to reflect the essence of woman and of motherhood unbound by any sense of time. Every artist places a little bit of themselves in their work, and this statue,” she said, crossing to it and touching the pewter satin that draped it, “is no exception. I’ve named it Lizzy’s Legacy, in honor of my great-great-grandmother, one of the original settlers of the Oklahoma Territory. It was women like her, who shared her spirit of adventure and her strength of character, who helped settle this land. Without her influence, I never would have completed the project.”
Setting the microphone aside, she took the corner of the cloth between her fingers and slowly pulled. The top of the woman’s head appeared first, then the pewter satin slipped slowly downward, revealing a face, a bare shoulder, a breast. The crowd pressed for a closer look as the satin fell to puddle on the floor at the base of the table, baring the full statue. A soft ahhh of approval rose from the crowd.
Judd saw the relaxing of Callie’s shoulders as she monitored the response of the audience and realized for the first time she’d doubted her own talent. He shook his head in amazement.
It took a while for the crowd to thin enough for him to approach Callie, but when he reached her side, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned his way, smiling. When she saw him, her mouth formed a soundless oh. Then she was in his arms, her hands clasped tightly around his neck.
“You’re here,” she whispered tearfully. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” Abruptly she stepped from his embrace and framed his face with her hands, as if to assure herself that he was really there and not a product of her imagination; then she was in his arms again, laughing.
“They liked it,” she whispered at his ear.
“They loved it,” he corrected, taking her hands to hold her out in front of him. His own smile grew to match hers. “Did you expect less?”
Knowing what it had cost him to come and what his presence meant to her and to their future, Callie squeezed his hands. “I wouldn’t allow myself to think beyond completing it.”
“Callie, dear, I’m so sorry we’re late.”
At the sound of the voice, panic flashed in Callie’s eyes. She tore her gaze from Judd’s and turned to greet a middle-aged couple.
“Mother. Father. I’m so glad you could make it.” She turned a dutiful cheek for her mother’s kiss. “I’m sorry, but you missed the unveiling.”
Her mother pouted prettily. “Oh, dear. And it’s all Papa’s fault.”
Callie frowned. “Papa’s?”
“Yes, the nursing home called just as we were preparing to leave, informing us that he’d taken a turn for the worse.”
Callie’s expression turned stricken. “Will he be all right?”
Frances patted her daughter’s hand. “Nothing to fret about, dear. Probably just another of his childish cries for attention.”
“But who’s with him?”
“We engaged a private nurse to sit with him around the clock. But don’t you worry about Papa. This is your party.” Smiling, she lifted her head, looking around. “Now where is that statue of yours?” she asked. “Your father and I are anxious to see it.” At that precise moment, the crowd shifted, creating a direct line between Frances and the statue. Her spine stiffened perceptibly and her facial muscles froze. She pressed a fragile hand to her throat and turned back to Callie. “How very...modern,” she finished after searching for just the right word.
Callie felt the familiar sting of tears at her mother’s obvious disapproval. “Thank you, Mother.”
She felt Judd’s fingers squeeze hers reassuringly as he moved into the circle. “If it wasn’t already promised to the hospital, I’d buy it myself.”
Grateful for his words of encouragement, Callie smiled up at him.
A slight frown deepened the wrinkles around Frances’s eyes as she witnessed the exchange. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she offered politely.
“Mother, Father. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine from Guthrie, Judd Barker. Judd, these are my parents, Jonathan and Frances Benson.”
Judd released Callie’s hand to shake first one, then the other’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you both,” he murmured. “I’m sure you’re proud of your daughter.”
“Yes, we are,” Mrs. Benson agreed, turning her head to steal another glance at the statue. Sighing, she turned back. “Though she might have clothed the woman and achieved the same affect.”
“Did you say your name was Barker?” Jonathan repeated thoughtfully.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any relation to the country-western singer?”
“One and the same.”
Frances’s lips pursed in disapproval as she raked him with a gaze, taking in the boots, the silver belt buckle, the bola. It was an effort, Judd could tell, but she managed not to curl her nose. The frown she wore suddenly vanished to be replaced by an engaging smile as she spotted someone she knew. “Oh, look, Jonathan. There is the mayor and his wife. We must say hello.”
Frances hustled Jonathan away, and Callie looked up at Judd, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry.�
�
Judd slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly against his side. “Hey, the lady can’t be all bad. She had you, didn’t she?”
Callie looked up at him in surprise, then laughed.
“Did I hear you say you’re Judd Barker?”
Callie and Judd both turned to find a man standing behind them. Judd struggled to hide his frustration at being recognized. “Yes, sir.”
“I thought I recognized you. My grandson is a big fan of yours.” The man patted his pockets, looking for something to write on. “Would you mind giving me your autograph for him?”
Judd accepted the paper and pen the man offered. “I’d be glad to.” He turned Callie around to use her back as a writing surface. “What’s your grandson’s name?”
“Mickey.”
Judd nodded and began to write. He thought he heard his name repeated, but wasn’t sure. Then a camera flashed. Automatically, he threw up an arm to shield his face.
“Hey, Judd!” someone called. “Where you been hiding?”
Judd lowered his arm to frown at the man who’d shouted the question. “Around,” he said vaguely.
The news of his presence skipped through the room like wildfire across a prairie. Some people began to stare, while the bolder ones moved in his direction. Reporters, scenting a story, pressed forward. Judd felt Callie ripped from his side. He watched in silent fury as the crowd pushed her farther and farther away from him while questions rang out, pelting him like a volley of gunfire.
“Could I have your autograph?”
“What are you doing in Houston?”
“Is Callie Benson your newest conquest?”
“Was the lady in Atlanta telling the truth? Did you rape her?”
“How does it feel to be an accused rapist?”
“How much did that not-guilty verdict cost you?”
“It was rumored that you had a nervous breakdown. Is it true?”
In the melee, he caught a glimpse of Callie’s face. Her eyes were round in horror, her face ashen. This was exactly what he’d feared, what he’d wanted to protect her from.
Another camera was shoved into Judd’s face. The flash went off, blinding him.
Outraged, he grabbed the camera strap and twisted until his fist lay just beneath the cameraman’s chin. He shoved until the man was pressed against the marble column. Behind him more cameras flashed, pencils scratched, camcorders whirled, recording for posterity Judd Barker’s reception back into the world he’d learned to hate.
* * *
Sickened by the vultures who continued to peck at Judd with their callous questions, Callie fought her way back through the crowd. She grabbed the hand of steel that held the strap twisted at the cameraman’s neck.
“Judd, please,” she pleaded. “Let him go.”
When he didn’t acknowledge her, she repeated, “Judd, please.”
Slowly her words penetrated the anger and he loosened his grip. With a disgusted shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. Shaking free of Callie’s hand, he turned and strode from the room without looking back.
Ignoring the questions hurled at her, Callie fought her way from the room and stepped onto the elevator behind Judd just before the door slid closed. Without looking at her, he slammed a fist against the button for the first floor and the car started a slow descent.
“Judd, I’m sorry,” she began.
“It’s not your fault,” he said before she could say anymore. He lifted his gaze to the floor indicator. A muscle twitched on his jaw. “I shouldn’t have come.”
At the chill in his voice, fear rose in her throat. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Judd, please don’t. You can’t hide anymore.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Running, then.”
He refused to qualify her response with a reply.
She laid a hand on his sleeve. “Please, Judd. We can face this together.”
He whirled, catching her by the elbows, his eyes blazing with fury. “Didn’t you see what just happened?” he demanded, giving her a hard shake. “Didn’t you hear what they said? I won’t put you through that. Never again. I won’t make you live under the shadow of my bad name.”
The floor floated beneath their feet, signaling their arrival at the first floor. Callie stood staring at Judd, tears flooding down her face. “It doesn’t matter, Judd, please,” she begged. “Give us a chance.”
“We never had a chance. They saw to that.”
Helpless anger boiled up in her. “They didn’t see to anything,” she countered. “Oh, yes,” she said, slicing the air with her hand when she saw his brow arch in surprise. “The media certainly did a good job on you during your trial. They were callous and rude and stuck their noses where they didn’t belong. They printed half-truths and sensationalized the rest. But right or wrong, they were doing their job.”
She poked her finger at his chest. “But you are the one who empowered them by accepting what they wrote about you. Until you face them, let the world see your innocence, they will continue to print their suppositions, and you will continue to live in the prison you’ve built around yourself.” Her lip quivered and she lifted her chin. “I won’t share that prison with you, Judd. It would destroy us both.”
The door slid open with a quiet shoosh.
Emotion crackled between them in the heavy silence while Callie, her heart in her throat, waited for Judd to respond.
“Are you going up?” a gentleman asked timidly from the crowded foyer.
Judd released his grip on Callie and stepped back, his gaze fixed on her face. “The lady is,” he murmured. “I’ve already been there and its a hell of a fall back down.” He turned and strode away without looking back.
* * *
Unwilling to face the crowd of reporters in the ballroom again, Callie returned to her hotel room. Once there, she sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands, haunted by the look on Judd’s face when he’d turned away. It was all her fault, she told herself. If not for her, he wouldn’t have been there tonight. He wouldn’t have been subjected to the cruel remarks, the probing questions, the nightmarish memories.
But couldn’t he see what he was doing to himself? she raged inwardly. To them? What kind of future could they have together if he wouldn’t let go of the past?
The phone rang and she lunged for it, sure that it was Judd.
“Judd?” she asked, frantically swiping the tears from her cheeks.
“No, it’s your mother.”
Disappointed that it wasn’t Judd and knowing what was coming, Callie sank onto the bed.
“I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” her mother raged. “Fighting like common street people in front of everyone. It will be all over the morning papers. I hope this is a lesson to you, Callie. People of our position can never be too careful whom we choose as our friends. Public scenes such as the one we just witnessed are devastating to one’s reputation and career.”
Callie banded her forehead from temple to temple with tight fingers. “Mother, I don’t need to hear this right now.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Frances snapped, then added crossly, “Papa’s worse.”
Callie’s head came up and her hand dropped to her lap. “What?”
“We received the news when we returned to our hotel. They’ve transferred him to the hospital and placed him in intensive care. I thought I should let you know the nurse said he asked for you.”
Without a word, Callie replaced the receiver. Papa. Her Papa. She had to see him before it was too late.
* * *
Callie hesitated in the doorway, daunted by the whoosh of the respirator and the click and whir of the heart monitor whose screen frantically sketched the slim hold Papa held on his life. She didn’t want to go inside the dimly lit room, but knew she had no choice. She took one step, then another, forcing herself to cross to the bed. Tears burned behind her eyes as she stared dow
n at Papa. When had he shrunk? she wondered, shocked by his appearance. A tall man, robust even in old age, he looked frail and shriveled in the narrow bed.
“Papa?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, dear, but he can’t hear you.”
Callie twisted to see a nurse rising from the chair in the far corner. “Is he—” She swallowed hard, unable to complete the question.
“No, no.” The nurse rose and came to stand beside Callie. “He suffered a stroke earlier this afternoon. By the time we reached the hospital, he had slipped into a coma.” She laid a hand over Callie’s and squeezed reassuringly. “You must be Callie.”
“Y-yes,” she stammered, her reply thickened by tears. “His great-granddaughter.”
The nurse nodded, knowingly. “He said you’d come.”
Grief welled in Callie’s throat. “I just hope I’m not too late.”
“I’m sure he draws comfort from your presence.” She patted Callie’s hand in silent understanding. “I’ll just slip out to the nurse’s station and leave the two of you alone. If you need me, press the buzzer.”
Callie waited until the door closed behind the woman, then she scooted a chair next to the bed and sat down. She took Papa’s hand in hers and nearly wept at the weightless fragility and the paper-thin skin.
“Papa? It’s me, Callie. I came as quickly as I could.” Not knowing what to say or even if he could hear her, she stumbled on. “I was in Houston at the presentation of my statue. I wish you could’ve been there. The statue turned out well. I named it Miss Lizzy’s Legacy, for your mother. I hope you don’t mind.
“She was the most wonderful woman, Papa. You’d have been so proud to have known her. I found the diaries she kept of her journey to Oklahoma. You were told she died giving birth to you, but that wasn’t true. I’m not sure how or why, but you were taken from her, and she was told you had died. She never knew you lived, just as you didn’t know she did.”
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