Part 19 (1/2)
SUMMER PRETENDED TO BE ASLEEP WHEN BILLY woke the next morning. Will's painful gums had kept him from sleeping soundly, and she'd gotten up with him in the middle of the night and stayed up till nearly dawn. Billy had offered to help, but she'd reminded him that he had to spend the next day on horseback, while she could sleep in. She was counting on Billy to feel too guilty to wake her up to have coffee with him, a wifely duty she'd performed every morning over the past month.
She couldn't face him after last night.
She'd been more than a little frightened at the prospect of having s.e.x for the first time with Billy, because he had a reputation with women that was as wild as his reputation for making trouble. She was afraid he wouldn't want to bother with someone who had no experience.
She'd thought all that stuff about men desiring their wives to be virgins was propaganda to keep women from experimenting. She'd been surprised-and moved-to see how much it meant to Billy that he would be the first man to make love to her. It had warmed her heart to see how gentle and tender-and pa.s.sionate-a lover he had been.
She'd been basking in the glow of their lovemaking, her heart full with everything she'd just experienced, when he'd proceeded to rip and tear and stomp out what remained of their precious interlude together.
He thought she wanted out of the marriage. He expected her to cut and run now that the going had gotten tough. It hurt to know he had so little faith in her.
And, oh, by the way, making love to her once was plenty. He didn't want any child of theirs coming into the world by mistake, so he was willing to forgo any further activity of that sort. It was humiliating to think something that had meant so much to her had meant so little to him.
Summer rolled over and stared at the crack in the ceiling plaster. It seemed she'd been trying to prove herself all her life-first to her father and now to Billy-and always came up wanting. She felt like running far, far away. Tahiti sounded perfect, strange and exotic, an ideal escape from all her troubles.
Who was she kidding? Since her father had cut her off, she didn't have the cash for a bus ticket to Mexico.
She punched the pillow and rearranged it under her head. As tempting as the thought of flight was, she couldn't leave Billy in the lurch. He needed her. Will needed her. And, though Billy's mother was often difficult-actually, a real pain in the a.s.s-Dora needed her.
For the first time in her life, Summer was an indispensable part of a family. She felt strings of responsibility-and love-tugging at her, holding her to this ramshackle homestead.
She stared at the chipped nail polish and ragged cuticles of the hand lying not far from her nose. She'd never thought too much about how easy her life was at the Castle. She'd always worked hard, but whenever she'd needed a break, there'd been some hired hand to take up the slack.
The past month had been a wake-up call. The day-today effort necessary to take care of Billy's son and his mother and do ch.o.r.es around the house and barn was exhausting and tedious. The worst part was knowing there was no relief to be had.
Summer realized how few real challenges she'd faced in her life. How seldom she'd been forced to dig deep for reserves of energy or spirit in the face of adversity. The temptation rose again to do what Billy feared she would do-to cut and run.
She kept imagining the look of disappointment and disillusionment in Billy's eyes when he came home and found her gone. She couldn't bear to hurt him like that. She'd have to find the fort.i.tude-somewhere-to keep going.
Summer s.h.i.+vered. What if she dug down deep for the strength to carry on and discovered it wasn't there? She tried to imagine herself living Billy's life, being knocked down over and over and getting up every single time to fight again. In the same situation, would she have kept on slugging?
Summer understood Billy's defiance far better now that she'd walked a mile in his shoes. She'd never realized just how hard it was to stare disaster in the face and thumb your nose at it. She just wished he hadn't felt he had to fight her whole family to prove himself.
She took a deep breath and let it out. Her moment of truth had come. In her mind's eye, she dusted off her f.a.n.n.y. She'd been knocked down, but she was up again. And by G.o.d, she was determined to fight. It was her turn to confront her father and make it plain she was Billy's wife and nothing he said or did was going to make her turn her back on him.
When the phone rang, Summer waited to see if Billy or his mother would get it. After four rings, when neither of them had picked up the phone, she lunged out of bed and scampered barefoot into the kitchen, where a phone hung on the wall.
”h.e.l.lo,” she said breathlessly.
”Oh, I didn't expect to get you,” a male voice said. ”I was hoping to catch Billy before he left.”
”He's already gone,” Summer said.
”d.a.m.n. Oh. 'Scuse me, ma'am.”
Summer waited for the caller to say more, but the silence dragged on. Finally she said, ”Is there a message I can give him?”
A nervous cough, and then a gruff voice that said, ”This is Harvey Kemper. Billy's been working for me. I wanted to let him know I won't be needing him anymore. I told him there'd be work for a few more days, but last night at the barbecue Mr. Blackthorne made it clear-” He stopped, apparently realizing who he was speaking to, and finished lamely, ”I won't be needing him anymore.”
He sighed and there was another pause, and Summer imagined Harvey Kemper rubbing the back of his leathery, sun-browned neck. ”I suppose I can tell him that when he gets here,” Kemper said.
”Thank you for calling.” Summer held the phone for another moment, then hung it gently back in the cradle and sank into one of the kitchen chairs. She reached down to straighten the curled vinyl that was scratching the underside of her thigh, but that irritation reminded her how hopeless Billy's situation had become. She jumped up and began pacing the kitchen, from one end of the worn linoleum squares to the other.
Had her father been making threats all along? Summer stopped at the sink and stared out the kitchen window past a faded gingham curtain toward a field of dry brown gra.s.s that stretched as far as the eye could see. She pressed her palm against her stomach, which spewed acid.
It was time Billy got a break, and she was going to convince her father to give it to him. All he really needed was his TSCRA job back. She wasn't sure what argument she would use on Blackjack, but she'd come up with something.
Having decided to act, Summer immediately felt better. She smiled wryly. Her stomach was still flipping and flopping around at the thought of facing down her father, but that couldn't be helped. Time to get moving.
With any luck, Dora would be having one of her ”good days” and she'd be able to watch Will while Summer ”ran an errand.”
She poured a cup of coffee for Dora from the pot Billy had left and made a slice of dry toast, which was all Dora could keep down these days, then put coffee and toast on a tray and headed down the hall.
Dora's bedroom was lit by narrow beams of early morning sunlight that shot through holes in the ancient roll-up shades that covered the windows. Summer set the tray on the table beside the bra.s.s-railed double bed and said quietly, ”Mrs. Coburn?”
Dora whimpered as she rolled over.
Summer's groin twisted as she imagined the other woman's pain. She leaned down and straightened the pillows behind Dora as she struggled to sit up, then straightened the covers around her legs, which looked like sticks beneath the sheets. ”How are you this morning?” she said, knowing the answer before she asked.
”How do you think I am?” Dora replied peevishly, reaching for her black plastic gla.s.ses and shoving them onto her face. Her dark eyes looked even more sunken through the thick lenses. She was wearing an old-fas.h.i.+oned flannel nightgown that was too warm for the weather, but even so, she often complained of a chill in her bones.
Summer dug deep for the patience to deal calmly with Billy's mother. ”I've brought coffee and toast.”
”I'd rather have slept in,” Dora said, at the same time reaching for the lap tray.
Summer started to help and was told, ”I can do it myself!”
The tray tilted dangerously, and Summer reached to straighten it without a word.
”I have to go out this morning,” she said. ”I'll take Will with me.”
”He was up half the night crying,” Dora said.
”I'm sorry if he kept you up,” Summer replied.
She waited for Dora's sharp retort, but when it didn't come, she met the older woman's gaze. Dora's brow was furrowed, and her dark brown eyes looked troubled. ”I don't understand you,” she said.
”I don't know what you mean,” Summer said, fl.u.s.tered by Dora's probing stare.
”Why are you doing this? It isn't what you're used to. Don't try telling me you don't mind living here. I've seen your face when you don't think Billy's looking.”
Summer flushed. ”I want to help Billy.”
”You think it helped to marry him?” Dora shook her head. ”All you did was raise that boy's hopes. And bring disaster on him. The sooner he faces the life he's destined to lead-”
”Billy doesn't dream impossible dreams, Mrs. Coburn,” Summer interrupted, angry for Billy's sake. ”All he wants is a decent life for himself and his son. And he wants to take care of you and Emma. Is that asking so much?”
”It is when you have an enemy like Jackson Blackthorne.”