Texas rich (53 page)

"/ am not stuck with anything. We are. Maggie is a product of us and our failing marriage." There, she'd said the words she could barely admit to herself. "It's only a matter of time before the situation between us ruins Susan and finally Riley. If we fail now. Moss, it's all been for nothing. We'll count for nothing. I won't allow that to happen. Somehow, somewhere, we lost our lives. I want it back, Moss. All of it."

Moss seemed to deflate. He'd been expecting a confrontation, but not this. "What exactly are you saying, Billie? You know I'll give you anything in my power."

"I want a conmiitment from you, to your children and our marriage. I want us to be a family. I demand it."

"You do, don't you?" There was wonder in his voice.

"Yes, I do. And I believe that somewhere down deep, you want it, too."

"And what do the children want? Maggie, for instance. What does she say about the abortion?"

"At first she wanted to be rid of it, pretend it never happened. She's so young, Moss, she has no conception of the child she carries. But when I told her you wanted her to have an abortion, she became hostile and changed her mind. Now she wants to keep the baby. Moss, I don't know what's right or wrong. All that matters to me is Maggie and her future. Your daughter

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says she wants to have this child. What do you think, Moss? How do you read it?"

Moss shrugged. "She's almost a woman and I suppose she's changeable "

"Don't you ever look beneath the surface? I>on't you see that she will go against anything you suggest? And why? Because it's the only damn way she knows to get your attention. Go against Pap and he'll always notice. Agree and he can forget you even exist. But this is too serious to play games with."

Moss gulped the last of his drink. "Billie, I'm tired. I have to think. Can't we talk about this after dinner? I'll come up to your room and we'll talk, just like the old days." He sent her a charming grin.

"We never talked in the old days. You talked and I listened. This time it's going to be different."

"C'mon, Billie, let me off the hook for a few hours, won't you?"

"No, Moss. We'll finish this conversation. I've never made demands on you, and perhaps I was wrong. But I'm telling you now, if you don't go along with me on this, on making us a family, I'll leave you. I'll take the children and leave. I want you to be a father. I want you to be a husband. I want a family. Moss, and I want it now."

"Just like that? No looking back? No accusations and recriminations? Forget everything and start over?"

Billie's eyes locked with his. "Just like that."

"All right, Billie, you've got it."

"Your sworn word. Moss."

"My sworn word. Billie... I..."

"Please, Moss, let's just leave it at that "

She'd won, arid yet her victory seemed hollow. Was this really what she wanted? This bargain, like a business deal?

"No, Billie, you've had your say and I want mine. You're my wife and I know I've let you down. I've been a heel but you've let me get away with it. I thought it didn't matter to you, that you didn't care. Do you know how much it means to me to know you care?" His voice was soft; his summer-blue eyes softened. She saw his arms open to her and felt herself move into them. But just for an instant, she imagined it was Thad's mouth seeking hers and the beating of his heart she felt against her breast. Billie hurled the image away. This was her husband, the father of her children, the man she'd promised to love for a lifetime, and God help her, there was a part of

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her that loved him still—a very old and tired part.

Moss's arms held his wife; his mouth touched hers tenderly, making unspoken promises. He felt her tremble for an instant before she lifted her face to his and he realized the old power he still had over her. It was a good feeling, this sense of possessiveness, a celebration of his prowess. A recommitment to his family wouldn't be so bad. He liked the idea of a family.

iiiUUii CHAPTER }}}})}}}} TWENTY-FIVE

At times Billiefelt as though she'd created her own hell. Moss was living up to his promise to commit himself as a husband and a father, but somehow it wasn't working. He was loving, attentive, and seemed to have foresaken his extramarital activities, but still there was an unrest within Billie. At night, lying in his arms, listening to his soft breathing, feeling the afterglow of his expert lovemaking, she fought against the growing restlessness and bitterness. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? To have Moss as her husband again? To have his love and his attention? She should be sitting on top of the worid. But she wasn't; she was dissatisfied. Only this time she was dissatisfied with herself.

Moss had his work and had thrown himself into it with renewed fervor, as though to compensate for the quiet domestic life he was living. He talked about his plans for building a new enterprise that he called Coleman Aviation and the difficulties of procuring the proper licensing from the federal government. Billie made every attempt to listen, to appear interested, but it never came from her heart. She was envious of Moss's energy and ability to get a job done, to have meaningful work. She herself had no such outlet.

Billie had given up her art classes when she'd told Jordan Marsh it was over between them. He had accepted her decision with humiliating calm and she had had to wonder when he himself would have called an end to the affair. It had been difficult to pursue her craft on her own, without a teacher to

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criticize her work. Billie began to create a workshop out of one of the outbuildings behind the house, but it seemed to her that she was directing more effort to the project than to her art itself. Day after day she struggled with her decision to commit herself to home and family.

Maggie didn't make things any easier. As her pregnancy progressed she became more sullen and withdrawn, seeming to resent her mother and father's new, delicate relationship. It never mattered whom or what Maggie hated; she just did. She hated green beans. She hated the soft yellow they'd decided upon for the nursery. She hated babies.

Susan suffered gossip at school, where Maggie's pregnancy was conmion knowledge. Riley fell prey to Maggie's jealous scorn when at home on the weekends. When Amelia arranged for her talented goddaughter to study at the London Conservatory of Music, the family decided that Susan would be better off in England. Riley would just have to keep out of Maggie's way.

Seth and Agnes, who had become as much a team as peanut butter and jelly, Abbott and Costello, went about with sour expressions. They had completely disapproved of Billie's decision to continue with the pregnancy. They had been forced to face down the disgrace of one of their clan and had been made vulnerable to the many enemies of their power, real and imagined.

Billie juggled all these delicate and uneasy relationships and pretended to believe it would all work out in the end. She refused to admit, most of all to herself, that perhaps she'd been wrong. As Maggie's belly grew so did Billie's discontent.

Maggie's daughter was bom during an early spring storm just a few minutes after midnight in the nursery at Sunbridge. Billie, cloaked in a sterile gown, was the first to hold the new infant. A surge of love and protectiveness rushed through her as she cradled the small bundle of life next to her heart. Sawyer Amelia Coleman looked up into the clear hazel eyes of her grandmother and perfected a bonding that would last a lifetime. Billie's fmger trailed along the baby's delicate cheek. It had all been worth it. All the indecision, the pain, the pretending. Any price was worth this tiny infant's life.

Hours later, when Maggie lay in an exhausted sleep, Moss quietly tapped on the nursery door and entered. His eyes were ftill of something Billie couldn't identify. He walked over to

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the cradle to stare down at his first grandchild. Carefully, Billie lifted the infant and placed her in Moss's arms. His hands were trembling as he accepted the offering.

"She's beautiful." His voice was husky.

"Yes, she is," Billie murmured. "You're holding part of us, Moss. Us. This little girl was birthed by Maggie but she's ours, too. She'll always be ours. Another Coleman for Sunbridge."

"Billie, so much has happened to us. I don't know why or how and I'm more than willing to take the blame. Seeing you here like this, holding the baby, makes me realize how much of our lives I've missed. I should have been here with you when Maggie was bom. And Susan and Riley. I should have been—I even wanted to be—but I had this crazy idea in my head that other things were more important. I was a fool, Billie, a damned fool."

Moss had uttered the words she had so longed for. His emotions were genuine—of that she was certain—but she felt no triumph, only sorrow. Sorrow for all the time lost, for the wasted passion, for the loosening of their bond. So many years she'd lived her own life just on the perimeter of his. They were married, they shared three children and now this precious, precious first grandchild, and this was the first and only time he truly mourned all that had been lost between them.

His eyes were moist and glowing, a silent pleading in their depths, and Billie's heart opened to him, to this man whom she'd sworn to love forever, this man of so many complexities. He leaned over the baby's head, his mouth finding hers in a tender kiss. Overwhelming emotions were released from Billie's soul as she allowed her lips to cling to his. "I love you. Moss. I love you," she whispered. And it was true. Or was it only the dream she loved, the home, the family, the unity and belonging? Whatever it was. Moss was an intrinsic part of that dream.

She'd learned many new things since those halcyon days when she was a girl and madly in love with her navy flyer, and she'd changed her opinions hundreds of times. But one fact was undeniable: she never wanted to be without him. She did love him and knew she always would. She'd learned that love had many faces, both beautiful and ugly, but one truth always remained. She loved him.

He tenderly touched his lips to the baby's downy brow before settling her down in her cradle. His fingers, warm and large, found Billie's hand and drew her to him. Arms about

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each other, they quietly let themselves out of the nursery and moved as one down the long wide hallway of Sunbridge to the silence and dimness of their room.

Billie's heart was tripping beneath her breast. Every sense was attuned to him, to his every touch and action. Some of her girlhood passion and excitement was stirring, blending with the patience and maturity of a woman. When he closed the door behind them she stepped easily into his arms, holding him close, the full length of her b6dy pressed against him, her lips finding the opening at the neck of his shirt and nuzzling in the crisp dark hairs of his chest. She reveled in the scent of him, clean and faintly spicy, but was sharply aware of the deeper male scent beneath. His hands were in her hair, stroking. His lips were tracing concentric little circles near her temples. It felt so good to be held this way, close against him, almost a part of him. And his tenderness was unhurried. He would woo her, court her, and only when she wished it would he take her. Somewhere in her mind's eye she saw again the little kiss he'd placed on the baby's head. Sweet, loving. That was the way he was kissing her now. She was aware of his protectiveness and possession and it awakened long-dormant memories of the first time they'd made love in her girlhood bedroom back in Philadelphia. He'd been the master then, her teacher and guide, and his concern for her pleasure and regard for her inexperience had endeared him to her forever. That was how he was touching her now, as though she were a delicate flower that would bruise and wither with an indiscriminate touch.

The kisses that he was tracing along her neck sent dehcious little quivers down her spine. The hunger in his voice when she touched the tip of her tongue to the base of his throat echoed within her. Expectation plucked at her nerve endings and heated her blood.

It was a familiar ritual, yet there was much to discover as well. As her hands caressed the smooth of his back, those muscles and planes to which she'd become accustomed were no less intriguing than they'd been the first time. Her pelvis undulated in a dance, pressing against his stomach and loins with a hungry need of its own. He was her husband and his body was even more familiar to her than her own, but there was an exhilaration in this knowledge. Although the room was dimmed, curtained and shaded against the approaching dawn, her mind's eye saw him clearly, knowing the hair patterns of his body, where the skin was smooth and white, delicately

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sensitive to her touch. There was assurance in this famihar-ity, certainty and comfort. The time for newness and timid exploration was behind her. There was no bashful experimentation to bring pleasure as there'd been with Jordan; this was the security of a well-traveled path, the route finely drawn on the chart of their lovemaking, and the reward was well known and joyfully anticipated. This was Moss; this was her husband, the man who shared her life.

His possession of her was tender, loving, making the exchange of pleasure between them sweet and unhurried, while beneath the surface ran a current of dizzying sexuality. As her garments fell away beneath his hands so did her defenses. Was this the way it was to be, then? A new beginning? Starting with the birth of their first grandchild? How fitting, Billie thought. She felt her hostility peel away, leaving her clean and pink and fresh. She could love again, she could give of herself; and with that thought she turned in his arms as he eased her down upon the bed, placing herself above him.

He wanted her, there was the physical evidence between them, pressing against her thigh. She caressed him with soft, loving fingers, thinking how through the years his male organ had been expressly shared by both of them, almost becoming a third party in their lovemaking. It never ceased to fascinate her, tempt her touch and invoke her kiss. It was her barometer of herself as a woman together with the glow in Moss's eyes and the sounds from his lips.