by Janet Dailey
“Angie, what’s going on? Do you have any idea of how vivid my imagination is?” he demanded. “You’re in trouble of some kind. What is it?”
“I’m just low on cash. You don’t have a couple hundred you could lend me, do you?” She tried to make a joke out of it.
“Is it money?” Ted was having none of it. “I’ll send you some. However much you want.”
“Thanks. I might have to take you up on that.” But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him for it now.
“If you aren’t coming back on Saturday, when will you arrive?” He sensed her hesitation. “You have to be to work Monday morning.”
Angie took a deep breath. He would know soon enough so she might as well tell him. “I’m quitting, Ted. I’ve decided to call in my resignation tomorrow.”
“You aren’t serious,” he paused, then concluded, “you are. Why?”
“It’s a long story,” she murmured lamely.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got all night—so why don’t you tell it to me?” The compassion, the offer of understanding in his voice was almost too much for Angie. She felt herself choking up.
“Oh, Ted. You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want to hear my troubles.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob.
“Yes, I do.” His gentleness was almost a caress. “Tell me, Angie.”
Before she realized what she was doing, she had started pouring out the story of that summer seven years ago, her abortive marriage to Deke, and the baby she’d abandoned to her ex-husband. She told him about the feelings of guilt she’d gone through, the endless wondering whether she’d had a boy or girl, and the haunting knowledge of knowing exactly where her baby was. When she related the moment of meeting with Lindy, Angie cried.
Later, with her emotions under control once more, Angie felt enormously relieved. The terrible tension had gone from her. Confession did seem to be a catharsis for the soul.
“This time I can’t walk away from Lindy. That’s why I’m not coming back to Houston,” she finished, and was amazed to discover she could tease him, “Now, aren’t you sorry you asked?”
“No. I only wish that I had asked before,” Ted replied in all seriousness. Then he continued in a lighter vein. “I know this may sound prejudiced, but I think what you need is a lawyer, Angie. I happen to know one who might be interested in helping you.”
“Oh? And who might that be?” she asked, already guessing.
“Me. Although it isn’t exactly my field, I do have a good friend who specializes in custody suits.”
“Ted—” She hardly dared to hope. “Do you think there’s a chance—”
“I don’t know, Angie,” he interrupted. “Let me talk to him, sketch in the rough details of your case, and see what his reaction is, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Is there any way I can get in touch with you?”
“Yes.” Angie gave him the name and telephone number of the motel. “I’ve registered under the name Patricia Sullivan.”
“Sullivan?” he repeated with pleased surprise. “I’ll take it as a compliment that you borrowed my name.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.” She smiled at the phone. It was crazy how reassuring it was to know that she had an ally.
“I don’t. I’ll be talking to you in the next couple of days or so,” Ted promised. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m fine,” Angie assured him. “In fact, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
“I’ll see if I can’t come up with a way.” And Angie could hear his smile over the phone.
She laughed and wished him good night. There was a peaceful quiet in the room when she hung up the phone. She went straight to bed and had the first, really good night’s sleep in nearly two weeks.
The next morning, Angie woke up refreshed and ready to take on the world—maybe even Deke Blackwood. She laughed aloud, glad that she had recovered her sense of humor. Dressed in blue jeans and her favorite blouse in powder blue silk, Angie treated herself to a big breakfast, then returned to the motel room.
Inaction didn’t suit her. She considered driving to Corpus Christi, but she couldn’t really afford to use the gasoline. Pausing at the window, she looked outside. It was really a pity that she didn’t have an ally like Ted at the Blackwood Ranch so she could secretly arrange to see Lindy. The thought stayed in her mind, germinated and grew. There was a chance—a wild chance—that she had one.
Before she got cold feet, Angie hurried to the phone and put through a call to the Black-wood Ranch. She let it ring and ring, certain there had to be someone at home. Just as she was about to hang up, a woman answered, a little out of breath.
“Marissa?” Angie ventured hesitantly. “Is that you?”
“Yes.” The answer came back with a certain inflection of curiosity. “Who’s this?”
“I. . . It’s Angie.” She heard the quick breath taken, followed by silence. “Marissa, please don’t hang up. Is Deke there?”
“No. He’s out checking cattle this morning,” his sister answered cautiously.
“Good,” Angie sighed. “I wanted to talk to you.” She felt the uncertainty that accompanied Marissa’s silence. “How . . . How is Lindy?”
“She’s fine.” It was a brief reply, noncom-municative.
“I’m glad. At school, they said she was sick and I just wanted to be sure that was ... a story.” It had only been a remote possibility, but Angie was relieved that illness had been given merely as an excuse for Lindy’s absence.
“There’s nothing. wrong with her, Angie. I promise. She’s happy and healthy. Actually, she’s enjoying playing hooky.” There was a slight pause, then Marissa burst out. “You really took a chance calling here. What if Deke had answered the phone instead of me? You must be crazy to call.”
Her heart gave a little lurch of relief because Angie suddenly realized it was going to be all right. Marissa wasn’t going to tell Deke she had called. There was some hope after all.
“I am crazy,” she admitted. “I’m crazy to be calling, I’m crazy to be here, but I just couldn’t stay away any longer. I tried, Marissa. But I just had to see her.”
“I guessed it was something like that. Where are you? No.” Marissa immediately took back the question. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. If Deke finds out I’ve talked to you, he’ll worm it out of me. If I don’t know, I can’t tell him anything.”
“I’m sorry. I’m putting you in a terrible position.” Angie suddenly realized how selfish she was being. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“It’s okay. I’m a big girl now. I think I can handle my brother,” Marissa assured her.
“How’s your mother and dad?” Angie inquired, easily visualizing a pair of doting grandparents.
“I. . . guess you don’t know. Mom died two years ago from influenza complications and Dad was killed when his light plane crashed on take-off five years ago this month.”
“I didn’t know.” The news left her slightly stunned. “I’m sorry. I. . . remember how excited they were about the baby.”
“I know. They worshiped Lindy. Daddy was always going in to wake her up so she’d cry and he’d have an excuse to hold her,” Marissa remembered with obvious fondness. “Mom fretted over her constantly, worrying over the least little sniffle or whimper. It was really cute the way Dad used to tease her, insisting that he couldn’t believe she was the same woman who had raised Deke and me. It’s a miracle they didn’t spoil Lindy to distraction.”
“How about yourself, Marissa?” Angie was conscious of all that had changed in seven years. There was a tendency to put people and places in limbo, expecting them to be the same and look the same. “What are you doing now? Are you married? Engaged?”
“No, to both.” There was a resigned note in her voice. “I was engaged for awhile, but it didn’t work out. So, I guess I’ll be the spinster sister for awhile and look after my moth
erless niece.” The carelessly spoken remark wasn’t meant to be unkind, but Angie couldn’t check the involuntary gasp of bitter regret. Realizing what she’d said, Marissa was instantly contrite. “That was a terrible thing to say. Angie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“I know you didn’t. It’s all right, really,” she assured her, but Angie was painfully aware of the years of separation and all the little things she’d missed—Lindy’s first step, her first tooth, her first day of school. It was agony. “What’s she like, Marissa?” Tightness gripped her throat. “Tell me about Lindy. There’s so much I don’t know.”
“Oh, Angie,” Marissa whispered with touching commiseration. In the pause that followed, Angie had the impression that Marissa was searching for the words to describe her daughter and the little facts that were important in Lindy’s eyes. “Right now, her favorite color is lavender, although last summer it was pink. Sometimes she seems as changeable as the wind, but she’s just so inquisitive that she can’t help trying new things. She’s clothes conscious because she wants to look nice, but there’s nothing prissy about her. Living on a ranch, Lindy is outside a lot, but she isn’t a rough-and-tumble tomboy. She rides. Deke has promised her a horse of her own on her eighth birthday. When she grows up, she wants to be a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader which, in itself, is a blend between glamor and rough sports, I guess.”
Angie closed her eyes while her hands tightened their grip on the phone. She was trembling, hurting, silently crying. She didn’t dare try to speak for fear her voice would become an incoherent sob. Her throat ached to be released from her determined control of emotion.
“Lindy gets along well with other children her age—makes friends easily,” Marissa went on. “She’s self-assertive—a leader not a follower. I guess she takes after Deke in that regard. She’s extremely bright, but she isn’t the know-it-all type. She just likes to learn.”
“At school—” There was a rasp in her voice and Angie paused to swallow it before trying again, “—she’s in the second grade. She’s only six years old.”
“Yes. It seems that Mom, Deke, and I taught her too much before she started kindergarten. After the first week she got tired of all that ’baby-stuff and decided to visit the first grade. It was three days before the teacher realized she had an extra pupil in her class. The school tested her and decided she was capable of doing first grade work, both mentally and psychologically, so she skipped kindergarten and advanced a grade. She hasn’t had any trouble at all,”
“I wondered,” Angie murmured, because there was so much she had wondered about. “Marissa?” She bit her lip, knowing what she was about to ask was wrong. “Is there any chance—I could see her?”
“Oh, Angie.” There was a wealth of sympathy, regret and uncertainty in the simple reply.
“Only for a couple of hours. I just want to see her and talk to her for a little bit.” Somehow she managed to sound reasonable and not as desperate as she felt.
“Deke would never allow it,” his sister protested weakly. “He’s become so hard and withdrawn. He’s my brother, but we have never really been that close that we talked about personal things. Angie, he won’t even discuss the possibility of you having a small part in Lindy’s life. I hate to say this, but I don’t think he’ll ever agree.”
That much Angie had already guessed. “Does he have to know?” she suggested. “Couldn’t we meet somewhere? You could tell him that you’re taking Lindy to the beach or shopping somewhere—a public place.”
“Angie, I don’t know,” Marissa murmured uncertainly.
“Please. I only want to spend a couple hours with her, find out what she’s like for myself. I think Deke believes I’ll kidnap her. But honestly, I’m not trying to take Lindy away from him,” Angie promised.
“Lindy does need a new winter coat for every day. The one she has is too small.” The wheels were turning slowly, finding a little traction.
“Then you have a legitimate reason to take her shopping,” she affirmed. “I’ll meet you somewhere. If Deke should find out, you can say that I followed you there.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s true. But I do most of my shopping for Lindy’s clothes in Corpus Christi. Deke would never agree to let me take her there because that’s where he thinks you are.”
“Come to Goliad.” She was briefly elated that her sham had worked. Deke didn’t suspect she was here.
“Goliad. Is that where . . . ?” Marissa didn’t finish the question because she didn’t want to know the answer. “Yes, Goliad would be perfect. Have you ever been to the Presidio La Bahia?”
“I know where it is,” Angie admitted, even though she hadn’t done any sightseeing in the area, staying in the motel room as much as possible.
“We could meet there,” Marissa stated.
“When? What time?” Angie couldn’t hold back her eagerness.
“I don’t want to wait too long or I’ll start acting guilty and Deke will suspect something’s up,” his sister declared, exhaling a heavy breath. “Let’s try for tomorrow at one-thirty. If I’m not there, then you’ll know that Deke wouldn’t agree to letting me take Lindy away from the ranch.”
“I understand.”
A pickup truck with a horse trailer in tow stopped at the front yard of the main house. The two saddled horses inside the slatted trailer shifted to keep their balance, their iron-shod hooves loud on the reinforced floor. Deke stepped out of the passenger side of the truck’s cab and paused to shoot a steelly glance at the driver.
“Pull the left rear shoe on the bay. It’s the wrong weight, and it’s throwing his stride off.” There was a snap in his voice. Deke heard it and knew Ben had done nothing to warrant it.
The response was a somewhat clipped, “Yes, sir.”
Sighing a little irritably, Deke swung the cab door shut and stood to one side as the pickup continued on its way to the barns. With heavy strides, he started toward the front entrance of the sprawling ranch house. The single-story structure was built low to the ground with very little slant to its roof. Its thick concrete walls blocked out the summer heat of the subtropical climate and the wide overhang of its roof shaded its windows from the burning rays of the sun.
“Daddy!” Lindy’s delighted cry came from his left. The happy sound of her voice lifted the black mood that had been on him. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until lunch-time!”
She ran across the grass to intercept him and walk with him to the house, but Deke swept her slight, blue-jeaned figure off the ground and carried her astraddle his hip. He paused to look at her, as if unconsciously needing the reassurance of the sight of her as well as the feel of her.
“Did you miss me?” Deke pretended surprise.
“You know I always miss you, Daddy.” She wound her arms around his neck and hugged him.
His arms tightened in a silent response as he buried his face in her tangled blond hair. Just for an instant, its silken texture and fresh scent reminded him of Angie, but Deke crushed the thought from his mind the same way he’d crushed her out of his heart. He lifted his head and glanced sharply around the yard.
“Where’s Marissa?” His dark brows arched together, one lifting slightly in question, when he glanced to his daughter.
“She went in the house to answer the phone.” Lindy kept a small arm curved around his neck.
When Marissa heard Lindy’s cry of greeting, she gripped the phone with both hands in a furtive gesture. “Angie, Deke’s coming. I have to hang up. Tomorrow, one-thirty at the Presidio La Bahia.”
“I’ll be there. Please try to come, if it’s at all possible,” Angie pleaded.
“I will.” Behind her, she could hear the turning of the front door knob and wanted to hang up quickly before Deke discovered she was on the phone. Marissa instantly realized if he saw her hanging up so hurriedly, he’d probably get suspicious. In the space of the same thought, she came up with an idea, but there wasn’t time to warn Angie of her intention. The door wa
s opening. In a voice loud enough for him to hear, she said brightly, “I’ll ask Deke and see what he says, then call you back this afternoon. Okay?”
“What?” Angie’s voice was startled. “You aren’t going to tell him?”
“No, I won’t, silly,” Marissa laughed, acutely aware of the footsteps approaching the living room.
There was the slightest pause, then Angie guessed, “Deke is there. He can hear you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Marissa affirmed in the same light and false tone. “’Bye. I’ll talk to you later.” Lindy bounded into view as she heard Angie echo her words and the line go dead. Marissa half-turned, the telephone receiver still to her ear, and pretended that she had just became aware of her brother’s presence in the house. His hard gaze was sharply questioning, as she had known it would be.
“Wait a minute,” she said quickly into the phone. “Deke just walked in. Let me ask—” She faked a pause. “Hello?” With a sigh, she turned to hang up the phone, but her heart was beating a mile a minute. She felt guilty at the way she was deliberately deceiving her brother.
“Who was on the phone?” Deke queried.
Marissa was ready with her lie, support for it had already been provided by another phone call earlier in the morning. “Cindy Coulson. She and Don are having a barbeque a week from Sunday and she called to invite us.” All of it was true except the part that she had just this minute been talking to Cindy. “I said I’d mention it to you and let her know.” She finally faced him and was relieved to see he’d already lost interest in the phone call.
He swept off his hat, running a hand through his dark hair. “You might as well let her know we won’t be attending.”
“I’ll call her later.” Marissa tried hard to sound offhand and turned her attention to Lindy. “I suppose you two are ready for lunch.”
“I’m starved,” Lindy insisted.
“You always are,” Marissa smiled and lifted her gaze to Deke. “How about you?”
“I can wait,” he replied indifferently. “No rush.”
For a brief instant, Marissa honestly wondered if her brother ever had needs like hunger, thirst and sleep, which of course he did. There was even a woman in Corpus Christi who relieved his sexual urges. He probably thought she didn’t know about that but she did. It was just that he was so hard and unfeeling. Deke had never talked about what had gone wrong with his forced marriage to Angie. After Lindy was born, he’d come back to Texas with her. Marissa had never believed him when he had declared Angie didn’t want the baby. The phone call today from Angie proved she had been right.
