Bed of Grass (The Americana Series Book 20)

by Janet Dailey

  "No, you're not," Judd agreed with a gently taunting smile, and escorted her to a cushioned lounge chair. "A spitting feline, maybe," he qualified.

  "There's no need to apologize, Valerie," his mother inserted. "I saw a stallion fight once. It was a vicious thing, so I quite understand your reaction."

  "Comfortable?" Judd inquired after seating her in the chair.

  "Yes." But she was beginning to feel like a fraud.

  "You relax for a little while," he ordered. "I'm going to wash up and change my shirt," he said, glancing down at his soiled front. "I won't be long."

  When he had disappeared into the house via the veranda doors, his mother suggested, "There's some lemonade left if you'd like some."

  "No, thank you," Valerie refused.

  Tadd came wandering back onto the veranda, a sleepy-eyed puppy in his arms. He stopped at the lounge chair, studying Valerie with a troubled light in his eyes.

  "Are you all right, mommy?"

  His appealing concern drew a faint smile. "Yes, Tadd, I'm fine," she assured him.

  "Maybe you'd feel better if you held the puppy." He offered her the soft ball of fur with enormous feet.

  "Thanks, Tadd, but I think the puppy would like it better if you held it," Valerie refused, her heart warming at his touching gesture.

  "It's sleepy anyway," he shrugged, and walked over to the grass to let it go. "Would you want to play a game, mom?"

  "No, thanks."

  He came back over to her chair. "What am I going to do while you're resting?" he wanted to know.

  "Would you like some more cookies and lemonade?" Maureen Prescott suggested.

  "No, thank you." He half turned to look at her. "Have you got any more animals for me to play with?"

  "No, I don't believe so." The woman tried not to smile at the question. "But there's a sandbox over by those trees. If I'm not mistaken, there's a toy truck in that chest over there. You can take the truck and play with it in the sandbox."

  "Great!" Tadd dashed to the toy chest she had indicated, retrieved the truck and headed for the sandbox.

  "Tadd isn't used to entertaining himself," Valerie explained. "There are a lot of children his age in the apartment building where we live, so he's used to playing with them."

  "It's good that he has children to play with," Maureen commented.

  "Yes," Valerie agreed. "I think that's the only thing he's missed this summer. Mickey played with him at the farm a lot. Now that he's gone, Tadd gets lonely once in a while."

  "Ellie, my eldest daughter, is coming this weekend with her husband and their six-year-old daughter. Meg is a regular tomboy. Why don't you bring Tadd over Sunday afternoon?" Maureen suggested. "They'll have fun playing together."

  "I…I don't think so." Valerie hesitated before rejecting the invitation.

  "Please try," the woman urged.

  "Try what?" Judd appeared, catching the tail end of their conversation.

  "I suggested to Valerie that she bring Tadd over on Sunday to play with Meg, but she doesn't think she'll be able to," his mother explained.

  "Oh?" His gaze flicked curiously to Valerie. "Why?"

  "I'm not sure it will be possible yet. I'll have to speak to Clara." Valerie couldn't explain the reason for her hesitation. She had the feeling it wouldn't be wise to become too closely involved with any more members of the Prescott family.

  "Don't worry, mother," said Judd. "I can almost guarantee you that Tadd will be here. Valerie and I are having dinner together on Saturday night. I'll persuade her to change her mind."

  Dinner together? It was the first she knew about it, but she tried not to let on. Things were happening at such a rapid pace that she couldn't keep up with them. She needed time to take stock of things and understand what was going on.

  "I hope you will," his mother said. "Tadd is a wonderful boy. You must be very proud of him, Valerie."

  "I am," Valerie admitted, feeling vaguely uncomfortable again.

  "He has such an appealing face." Maureen was looking toward the sandbox in which Tadd was playing with the truck. "And those eyes of his are so expressive. There's something about him that makes him so very special, but those children generally are," she concluded.

  "Those children?" Valerie stiffened.

  A pair of turquoise eyes rounded in dismay as Maureen realized what she had said. She glanced quickly at Judd, an apology in her look. Valerie's questioning eyes were directed at him, as well.

  Undaunted by either of them, he replied smoothly, "I believe mother means those children who are born out of wedlock."

  "I'm sorry, Valerie," Maureen apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you by that remark—truly I didn't."

  "It's quite all right." Valerie hid her embarrassment behind a proud look. "I've never attempted to hide the fact that Tadd is illegitimate. And I have heard it said that 'those children' tend to be more precious and appealing as a result. Tadd seems to be an example of that, but I doubt if it's always the case."

  "I certainly didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Maureen insisted again. "It's just that I've been watching Tadd," she rushed her explanation, "and he's so like Judd in many ways that—Oh, dear, I've made it worse!" she exclaimed as she looked into Valerie's whitened face.

  "No, no," Valerie denied with a tight, strained smile. "I understand perfectly."

  A nauseous lump was rising in her throat as she truly began to understand. Maureen Prescott had known all along that her son was Tadd's father. Judd had obviously told his mother, but hadn't bothered to tell Valerie that he had. She hadn't thought it was possible to feel cheap and humiliated again, but she did.

  "I didn't see any reason not to tell her," Judd explained, watching Valerie through narrowed eyes.

  "Of course there isn't," she agreed, feeling her poise cracking and struggling inwardly to keep it from falling apart.

  "I'm relieved." His mother smiled, somewhat nervously. "And I do hope it won't influence your decision about bringing Tadd here on Sunday. I would sincerely enjoy having him come."

  "Don't worry about that, mother," Judd inserted. "I'm sure Valerie will agree."

  "Your son can be very persuasive," Valerie commented, and felt a rising well of panic. "I don't mean to be rude, Mrs. Prescott—" she rose from the lounge chair "—but I'm really not feeling all that well. Would you mind if Judd took us home now? You've been very gracious to Tadd and me and I want to thank you for that."

  "You're very welcome, of course," Maureen returned, hiding her confusion with a smile. "I'll call Tadd for you."

  "Thank you." Valerie was aware of Judd standing beside her, examining the pallor in her face.

  "What's wrong, Valerie?" he asked quietly.

  "A headache—a nervous reaction, I suppose." Her temples were throbbing, so her excuse wasn't totally false.

  He seemed to accept her surface explanation without delving further. When Tadd came racing to the veranda, Maureen Prescott walked them through the house to the front door and bid them goodbye. As they drove away, Tadd's face was pressed to the window glass to watch the horses in the pasture.

  Valerie sat silently in the front seat. Judd slid her a questioning look. "Does it bother you that mother knows?" he asked, phrasing it so Tadd wouldn't attach any significance to it.

  "No." She leaned her head against the seat rest. "Why should it?" she countered with forced nonchalance.

  But it beat at her like a hammer. To realize that her relationship with Judd was out in the open was worse than if it had been a secret, clandestine affair. Kept woman, mistress, consort—all were terms for the same thing. She had agreed to it—in the stable yard in Judd's arms. There was no doubt about how deeply she loved him.

  But she had more to think of than just herself. There was Tadd. Valerie closed her eyes in pain. Maureen Prescott was eager for him to visit on Sunday, but the invitation naturally hadn't included her. Was Tadd going to grow up on the fringes of the Prescott family, invited into the circle on their whim? He w
ould be a Prescott without a right to the name. How would he feel when he discovered the truth? Would he become bitter and resentful that his mother was the mistress of the man who was his father?

  Valerie was tormented by the love she felt for Judd and the life with him that she never could know. It gnawed at her until she thought she would be torn in two. It was a searing, raw ache that made her heart bleed.

  "Valerie?" Judd's hand touched her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes to discover the car was parked in front of the farmhouse. The screen door was already slamming behind Tadd, who was racing into the house to be the first to tell Clara of all that had happened that day.

  "I…I didn't realize we were here already," Valerie began in painful confusion.

  "I noticed," he responded dryly. His hand slid under her hair, discovering the tense muscles in her neck and massaging them. "You do know you're having dinner with me on Saturday night, tomorrow night," he told her.

  "So you told me." She couldn't relax under his touch; if anything, she became stiffer.

  "You're going." It was a statement that demanded her agreement.

  "Yes," Valerie lied because it was easier.

  Judd leaned over and rubbed his mouth against the corner of her lips. She breathed in sharply, filling her lungs with the scent of him. It was like a heady wine. Judd began nibbling the curve of her lip, teasing and tantalizing her with his kiss.

  "Please, Judd, don't!" She turned her head away from his tempting mouth because she knew the power of his kiss could make her forget everything.

  He hooked a hard finger around her chin and turned her to face him. His sharp gaze inspected her pale face and the carefully lowered lashes.

  "What is it?" He sensed something was wrong and demanded to know the cause.

  "I really do have a headache," Valerie insisted with a nervous smile. "It'll go away, but I need to lie down for a while."

  "Alone?" His brow quirked suggestively, then he sighed, "Never mind. Forget I said that. I'll call you later to be sure you're all right."

  "Make it this evening," Valerie asked quickly, and hurried to answer the question in his eyes. "By the time I rest for an hour or two, it'll be time to eat. Then there's the dishes to be done, and Tadd won't take a bath unless someone is standing over him. So I'll be busy until…" His fingers touched her lips to silence them.

  "I'll phone you later this evening," he agreed. "Or I'll come over if you can think of a way to get that battle-ax out of the house."

  It was starting already, she thought in panic. "You'd better call first," she said.

  "Very well, I will." He kissed her lightly.

  Chapter Nine

  VALERIE PAUSED on the porch to wave to Judd and stayed until he had driven out of sight down the lane. She felt the beginning of a sob in her throat and knew she didn't have time for tears. Lifting her chin, she turned and walked into the house.

  "My gracious, it certainly sounds as if you've had a full day," Clara commented. "Tadd has been running nonstop for the last five minutes and doesn't give any indication of wearing down. What's all this about horses and puppies? I thought you were going to a tobacco auction. That's what you told me."

  "We did go," Valerie admitted, "but that was earlier today. Then we went over to the Prescott place to see Mickey." She glanced down at her son. "Tadd, why don't you go outside and play for a while?"

  "Aw, mom," he protested, "I wanted to tell Clara about the puppies."

  "Later," she insisted. Reluctantly Tadd walked to the door, his feet dragging, and slammed the screen shut. Valerie turned to Clara. "How much gas is in the car?"

  "I filled it up the other day when I was in town. Why?" Clara was startled by the question.

  Valerie was already hurrying through the living room, picking up the odds and ends of personal items that had managed to become scattered around. She began stuffing them in a paper sack.

  "What about the oil? Did you have it checked?" she asked.

  "As a matter of fact, I did." A pair of hands moved to rest on broad hips. "Would you mind telling me why you're asking these questions?"

  Valerie stopped in the center of the room, pressing a hand against her forehead. "I can't remember—did we put the suitcases in the empty bedroom upstairs or down in the basement?"

  "Upstairs. And what do we need the suitcases for?" Clara followed as Valerie headed for the staircase.

  "Because we're leaving. What other reason would I have for asking about the car and suitcases?" Valerie retorted sharply.

  "Would you like to run that by me once more? Did I hear you say we were leaving?" repeated Clara.

  "That's exactly what I said." Valerie opened the door to the empty bedroom, grabbed two of the suitcases in the corner, and walked to Tadd's room.

  "I thought we were staying here until summer was over," her friend reminded her.

  "I've changed my mind. Isn't it obvious?" Valerie opened drawers, taking out whole stacks of clothes regardless of their order or neatness, and jamming them into the opened suitcase.

  "Suppose you give me three guesses as to why?" Clara challenged. "Judd Prescott, Judd Prescott, and Judd Prescott. What happened today?"

  "I don't have time to go into it right now," Valerie stalled. "Would you mind helping me pack?" she demanded. "I don't want to take all night."

  "I'll help," Clara replied, walking to the closet without any degree of haste. "But I doubt if what you're doing could be called packing. What's the big rush anyway? You surely aren't planning to leave tonight?" Shrewd blue eyes swept piercingly to Valerie.

  "We're leaving tonight," The first suitcase was filled to the point of overflowing. Valerie had to sit on it to get it latched. "We'll never be able to put everything in these suitcases. Where are the boxes your sister used to send our things? We didn't throw them away, did we?"

  But her friend was still concentrating on her first statement. "Tonight? You can't mean to leave tonight?" She frowned. "There's only a few hours of daylight left. The sensible thing is to leave first thing in the morning."

  "No, it isn't," Valerie argued. "We're leaving tonight. Now where are the boxes?"

  "Forget the boxes. I want to know why we have to leave tonight. And I'm not answering another question or lifting a hand until you tell me." Clara dropped the clothes in her hand on a chair.

  "Clara, for heaven's sake, I don't have time for all this." Valerie hurried to the chair and grabbed the clothes to stuff them in the second suitcase. "Judd will be calling later on and I want to be gone before he does."

  "And that's your reason?" Her friend sniffed in scoffing challenge. "It seems mighty ridiculous to me!"

  "Don't you understand?" Valerie whirled to face her. The conflicting emotions and raw pain that she had pushed aside now threatened to surface. Her chin quivered as she fought to hold them back. "If I don't leave tonight, I never will!"

  "I think you'd better sit down and tell me what's happened," said Clara in a voice that would stand for no argument.

  "No, I won't sit down." Valerie sniffed away a tear and shook back her caramel hair. "There's too much to do and not enough time." She walked to the chest of drawers and opened the last one to take out the balance of clothes.

  "Well, you're going to tell me what happened," Clara insisted.

  Another tear was forming in the comer of her eye and Valerie wiped it quickly away with a forefinger. "Judd's mother, Mrs. Prescott, knows about Tadd, that Judd is his father. She wants Tadd to come over on Sunday to play with another one of her grandchildren. It's all out in the open, and I can't handle it."

  "What is Judd's reaction to this?" Clara gathered up Tadd's few toys and put them in a sack.

  "He told his mother he would persuade me to bring Tadd."

  "So? Don't let him persuade you," her friend suggested with a shrug.

  Valerie's laugh held no humor. "All he has to do is hold me in his arms and I'll agree to anything. I did today. I promised I wouldn't leave here. I'm so in love
with him I'm losing my pride and my self-respect."

  "It isn't one-sided. Judd is absolutely besotted with you," Clara said. "I've seen the way he watches you. He never takes his eyes off you. He knows when you blink or take a breath."

  "I know and it doesn't make it any easier. Clara, he wants me to become his…" She broke off the sentence with a hurtful sigh. "I can't even say the word without thinking what it would ultimately do to Tadd.'

  "Maybe he'll marry you," Clara suggested in an effort to comfort her.

  Valerie shook her head, pressing her lips tightly together for an instant. "I'm not good enough for a Prescott to marry. I lack breeding," she said bitterly. "I can't stay, Clara." Her hands absently wadded the bundle of clothes in her hand, her fingers digging into the material. "I can't stay."

  There was silence. Then a detergent-roughened hand gently touched her shoulder. "The boxes are in my bedroom closet. I'll get them."

  "Thank you, Clara," Valerie muttered in a voice tight and choked with emotion.

  When the two suitcases were packed, she set them at the head of the stairs and took two more to her bedroom. With Clara's help, all her personal belongings were packed in either the luggage or the cardboard shipping crates. As soon as that room was cleared of their possessions they started on Clara's. No time was wasted on neatness or order.

  "All that's left is to lug all this downstairs and out to the car," said Clara, taking a deep breath as she studied the pile of luggage and boxes in front of the staircase.

  "And to check downstairs," Valerie added, picking up one case and juggling another under the same arm. "We'd better be sure to get everything because I'm not coming back no matter what we leave behind," she declared grimly, and reached for the third.

  Leading the way, Valerie descended the stairs. Clara followed with one of the boxes. Tadd came bounding onto the porch as Valerie approached the door.

  "Open the door for me, Tadd," she called through the wire mesh.

  "I'm tired of playing, mom." He held the door open for her and stared curiously at the suitcase she carried. "What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?"