by Diana Palmer
“He was intimidating,” Bess recalled.
“That he was. I cared about him, in my way,” she added. “But I never had many illusions about him, and I’ve never told any of the boys how I really felt. Coleman had one affair after another. There was even some talk about one of Cade’s girlfriends. I’ve never said this to anyone else, but I was almost glad he had other women. I hated him that way most of all because he never cared for my pleasure.” She shivered a little. “So you can see why it was easy for me to forgive Gussie,” she added with a sideways glance. “You can’t be jealous of a man who hurts you.”
Bess had to bite her tongue not to confess what Gussie had told her about that “affair.” She didn’t have the right to say anything, but she wanted to.
“Cade wants children right away,” Bess blurted out.
“Yes, I know.” Elise smiled at her. “Bess, a child would be the best thing that could happen for both of you. Cade’s reached the age where he feels his own mortality. He wants the security of children. He wants a family of his own to provide for, to work for.”
“I do, too,” she replied, lowering her eyes. “He hasn’t said anything, but I don’t think he’s happy that I haven’t gotten pregnant yet.” She didn’t add that it would be impossible, or that even if she hadn’t been barren, she would have needed a little cooperation from her husband.
“He’s impatient,” Elise said. “He’s getting older and he’s waited a long time for you. He does care for you very much.”
“I only wish he loved me,” Bess said softly. “Because I love him more than my own life.”
“I know. I’ve always known.” She patted Bess’s hand. “Give it time. Everything will be all right.”
But would it? That night when Cade came in, Bess was still awake, sitting up in bed in her pretty cotton pajamas with her hair around her shoulders, reading.
He stopped in the doorway and looked at her with cool, searching eyes. “Not sleepy? I hope you aren’t in the mood for sex, because I can’t oblige. I’m tired.”
She blushed angrily as he closed the door and proceeded to the adjoining bathroom for a shower without bothering to look at her again.
By the time he came out again, in nothing but blue-striped pajama bottoms, his magnificent body bare from the waist up and his hair damp, she was fuming.
“You needn’t worry about my base desires,” she told him icily. “I can live without sex just fine, thanks.”
He looked down at her with cool, indifferent eyes. “That wasn’t the case when we first came back here, was it, Mrs. Hollister?” he asked with a mocking smile. “In fact you couldn’t get enough of it.”
She averted her eyes to the bedcover. Yes, he was still mad about her blatant seduction. Probably that had been eating him all this time and he’d just kept it bottled up. She tugged at the sheet. “I’m sorry about that,” she stammered. “I thought that it might make up for...for the babies.”
He stood very still. “You thought what?”
Her eyes closed. She had to tell him. They couldn’t go on like this. The deceit was making her miserable, and so was her conscience. What Elise had said tonight about his desire for children and the reasons for it had hurt.
“Cade, I can’t give you a child,” she said through stiff lips.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CADE STARED AT her without speaking for one long, endless minute. He couldn’t believe that he was hearing her properly.
“You mean you don’t want my children, is that it?” he asked icily.
She felt tears in her eyes, and her vision blurred. “I mean,” she said huskily, “that I can’t bear a child. Ever. I’m...barren.”
His chest rose and fell heavily. His jaw went hard, like his eyes. Barren. “How long have you known?” he asked in a deadly quiet tone. “Did you know when you married me?”
This was going to be the most damning part of her confession, and he was taking it every bit as hard as she’d expected him to. She couldn’t blame him. She was shattering his dreams.
“Yes,” she said, shouldering the responsibility.
His breathing was suddenly audible. “Didn’t it occur to you that I had the right to know?”
She cringed inside at the accusation. “Of course you did,” she said heavily. “But I knew you wouldn’t want me if you knew the truth.” Her eyes closed, missing the expression that crossed his face. “I loved you so much. I thought, God forgive me, that I’d steal a little happiness.” She managed a smile as she lifted her misty eyes to his cold ones. “But it all went wrong even before you knew, didn’t it? I loved you, but you only wanted me. And after that night, when I was aggressive, you never wanted me again.” She shifted nervously on the bed. “You’ve been looking for an excuse to send me away, but you couldn’t find one. Now you have it. You want children and I can’t give them to you.” She lowered defeated eyes to the bare wood floor. “I’m sorry.”
He ground his teeth together. He couldn’t get past the fact that Bess was barren. All these long years he’d wanted no one else. He’d married her and she’d sworn undying love. But she could lie to him that easily, she could deceive him. He’d been so besotted with her that he hadn’t questioned her about why she hadn’t become pregnant. He should have realized that something was wrong. God knew, she’d always turned aside his remarks about children, and she’d seemed depressed whenever she saw him with children.
“You knew how badly I wanted kids,” he said with barely controlled fury. “You owed me the choice.”
“I know that.” She wiped away the tears with a shaking hand. “I just don’t quite fit in here, do I?” she asked with a tremulous smile. “I’ve tried. But you only want Lariat and those heirs you talked about to carry it on. I understand, really I do. I had dreams, too...” Her voice trailed away and the tears came back. Her eyes closed. “I know you won’t want me here anymore. I can... I can leave tomorrow if you like.” Even as she said it, she was hoping against hope that he’d ask her to stay.
“That might be the best thing for both of us,” he said coldly. “You can get your apartment back, or one like it. We’ll work out the details later.”
“You mean, about a divorce,” she said with forced calmness and nodded, missing the shocked look on his face. “Yes, I think that would be best, too. I’ll... I’ll call Donald when I’m settled and he can get things started.” She swallowed tears.
“Why didn’t you tell me, damn it?” he demanded, anguish breaking through the calm.
“I thought you might care enough about me not to mind,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I thought I could be good enough in bed to make you...to make up for what I couldn’t give you. But that backfired, too, because you don’t even want me anymore.” Her voice broke and she bit her lower lip to stop from crying aloud.
Cade’s face contorted. He stared at her, conflicting emotions tearing him apart. He had to have time. He had to deal with it. He couldn’t do it now, it was too fresh a wound. She’d lied to him, she’d married him under false pretenses. She said she loved him, but she hadn’t trusted him with the truth.
“No, I don’t want you anymore,” he replied tersely, striking back out of wounded pride and pain. “The woman I wanted doesn’t exist anymore. She was sweet and kind and loving, not an aggressive little liar.”
The words hit her like body blows, but she sat there calmly staring at him until she could speak again. “Is that what you thought of me?” she asked, laughing painfully. “I thought...men liked that sort of thing.” She took a shaky breath. “Well, I’ll know better next time, won’t I? If there is a next time.” Her world was collapsing, but she couldn’t, didn’t dare, break down. She felt sick from her head to her heels, and weak as water.
“Lots of luck. Maybe Ryker is still free,” he said. His face contorted for an instant as he look
ed at her. “He might be just your style, society girl, and he probably wouldn’t mind not having kids.”
Her eyes closed and tears slipped from them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I love you so much, Cade. You can’t know how badly I wanted a child with you!”
He couldn’t find any words to say. He was hurting so badly himself that he couldn’t see the pain he was causing her. All his dreams had died. He’d never have sons with Bess. There wouldn’t be any children. Why hadn’t she told him?
“I’ll leave in the morning,” she managed.
“Yes.” He turned toward the door, walking numbly away from her. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“Cade, please don’t hate me!” she cried.
His back stiffened, but he didn’t turn. “Goodbye, Bess,” he said gruffly, and forced himself not to look back.
The curt words hung in the room after he shut the door behind him. Bess collapsed in tears. Well, it was out in the open now, and he hated her. He’d thrown her out. He didn’t want her anymore, because she wasn’t a whole woman.
She couldn’t even muster up enough hatred to pull her shattered emotions back together. It wasn’t as if it was all her fault. He hadn’t helped by attacking her in her apartment and frightening her into running away from him. That was why she was barren after all. He hadn’t even asked the reason and she hadn’t volunteered it. But then, what difference would it have made? He might have felt guilty enough to let her stay, but guilt was a poor substitute for the love he couldn’t give her. If he’d loved her, it wouldn’t have mattered to him that she was barren, she was sure of it. Now she knew what he really felt for her. He thought she’d acted like a tramp when she’d seduced him, and it had made him not want her anymore. He thought she was cheap, and she felt it.
She wiped her eyes, trying not to think about tomorrow. Their marriage had been deteriorating anyway, but she loved Cade. She’d wanted nothing more than to live with him, but it had all gone wrong from the very beginning. Perhaps if she’d been honest with him at first, they wouldn’t have come to this impasse. It all came down to trust, she thought. She hadn’t trusted him, so she’d lost him. Her hopes for the future were as barren as her body now.
She got up before daylight, since she couldn’t sleep anyway, and packed her things.
She was dressed for travel in a gray linen suit when she came downstairs with her suitcase and purse. She hadn’t expected Cade to be up, even though he was an early riser, because it wasn’t quite daylight. But he was, dressed in jeans and boots and a chambray shirt, prowling the hall with a cup of black coffee. He looked up when she came down the staircase, his dark eyes giving nothing away except the fact that he hadn’t slept. She imagined she had equally dark circles under her own eyes.
“Good morning,” she said politely, glad that her anguish didn’t show, that her voice didn’t tremble.
“You don’t need to tell Donald any of the details when you talk to him,” he said curtly. “Charge me with mental cruelty if you like,” he added with a cold, mocking smile.
He had no idea how true a charge it would be, she thought. She felt queasy and hoped that she was going to be able to get out the door without fainting. All the pressure was really working on her system; she felt fragile.
“You’re sure...?” she asked, shelving her pride for an instant out of one last, lingering hope for a reprieve.
He ignored her soft plea. “I’m sure,” he replied. “We were mismatched from the beginning. It’s a long way from a mansion to a line cabin. I built a dream on an illusion. But the illusion won’t keep me warm in the winter, or give me the sons I want for Lariat,” he said with quiet meaning. “You’ll find someone else. So will I.”
She took slow breaths to keep from falling at his feet. She knew her face must be white. He was killing her. Killing her...
“Then, goodbye, Cade,” she said gently. “I’ve left a note for your mother, thanking her for everything. You can tell her what you like. Please say goodbye to your brothers for me.”
He nodded irritably. “You’d better get started.”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?” she asked with graveyard humor. She bent and picked up her suitcase and started toward the door.
“Have you got enough money?” he asked, hating himself for even asking because it sounded as if he cared.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t want anything else from you, Cade, thank you. I’ve taken enough, in one way or another.” Her eyes adored him, just for a few precious seconds. “Oh, be happy, my dear,” she said on a broken sob.
He drew in a furious breath. “Get out!”
She shivered at his tone and swallowed down the tears. “I’ll love you all my life,” she whispered. She managed a wobbly smile. “Do you...do you want this back?” she asked, pausing to lift her left hand.
The little silver ring sparkled in the light, and he couldn’t bear the sight of it. He’d never told her its story. Maybe it would have helped her to understand if he had. “No,” he said.
“Someday you’ll marry again, and you’ll...you’ll have those kids you want so much.” She forced the words out. “I’ll save the ring for them. Goodbye, Cade.”
He didn’t look at her again. He knew if he did, he’d go down on his knees and beg her to come back, and he didn’t dare. This was the best thing he could do for both of them. He couldn’t live without children and she couldn’t give him any; it was just that simple and tragic. So he let her go. Long after he heard the car drive away, he remembered another time she’d left him, another time when she’d gone away in a car.
His blood ran cold. The accident. She’d wrecked the car because he’d upset her. He drew in a rough breath. What if she did it again?
He phoned down to the bunkhouse and woke one of his men and sent him to follow Bess back to San Antonio, just to make sure. He stared at the receiver when he’d hung it up. Why couldn’t he stop caring? he wondered bitterly. She’d hurt him and cheated him, and he still cared about her. With a muffled curse he pulled his hat off the hat rack and stormed out the door to work.
Bess got to San Antonio in record time because the streets weren’t crowded at that hour of the morning. Her first stop was the apartment house where she’d lived, and she was in luck because her old apartment hadn’t been rented out yet. There had been a tenant who’d wanted it, but he’d canceled at the last minute. Bess took the key and went down the long walkway wearily. Thank God the apartment was furnished. Her few bits and pieces of furnishings from Spanish House were at Lariat. She hadn’t thought to ask Cade to bring them up, but he was so coolly efficient that she knew he would. She hadn’t expected him to let her stay, although she’d hoped that he might relent before she drove away. Then she’d hoped that he might come after her. But his mind seemed to be made up, and somehow she was going to have to learn to live without him.
Senora Lopez greeted her a little curiously. Bess made up some quick story about needing to stay in town on business, and that seemed to satisfy the little old lady.
Bess washed her face and unpacked before she left for work. She could always get some groceries when she came home, not that she had much of an appetite. At least the tears had slowed down. She felt numb and sick as she went back to her car and drove to work. Thank God she had her job. She’d never needed it so badly before.
* * *
NO ONE QUESTIONED her sudden move back to San Antonio or the fact that she wasn’t wearing her wedding band anymore. She didn’t have the silver ring on either. She’d put it away in her jewelry chest so that she didn’t have to look at it. But Nell was giving her long, sympathetic looks, so she had to have some idea of what was going on. One thing that Bess loved about her office was that no one invaded her privacy. They were supportive if she needed them, Julie and Nell most of all, but no one ever pried.
She called Donald in tears at the end of the first week, and told him that she and Cade were divorcing and asked him to handle the case. He’d come to San Antonio to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t be swayed. Donald didn’t realize the whole truth of the matter, and she couldn’t muster enough nerve to tell him the real reason Cade didn’t want her anymore. It hurt too badly. She finally convinced him, paid him a retainer and sent him off to get things started. There was no sense in postponing the inevitable, and Cade wouldn’t want to continue to be tied to her. He wanted children. Since he no longer wanted Bess, she was certain that he could find another woman he desired enough to have children by.
Gussie came over the first week she was back at work, worried and obviously curious.
“Elise says that you’ve left Lariat, but she won’t tell me anything,” Gussie said quietly. “Darling, you’ve loved Cade for years. What’s wrong? Can I help?”
The unexpected sympathy sent Bess running into the arms that had comforted her as a child, and she cried until her throat hurt from the tears. She felt terrible, as if she were dying of weakness and nausea, and the loss of Cade was responsible. She had to drag herself up out of bed every morning, and even that was a struggle. She felt as if all her strength was gone.
Gussie rocked her gently, smiling because for the first time in months her daughter actually seemed to need her. She sighed against the disheveled honey-brown hair. “It’s all right, darling,” she said. “Can’t you talk to me about it?”
