Home Before Dark (32 page)

In the wake of her departure, Jessie felt drained. “Well,” she said, “I guess I blew it.”

Glenny surprised her by sniffling. “You see why I don't hang around you girls all the time? You're very intense.”

Jessie put out a hand, and her mother took it. Jessie knew then that Glenny had done her best with what she'd had. The heart was a fragile organ, delicate and prone to breaking. Glenny was one of those who armored herself against the assault of everyday loving, so hard on the human heart.

Glenny squeezed her hand. “I have a wall full of trophies and my own fan site on the Internet. I've traveled a lot of miles, but the hardest trip I've ever made was to come here. I couldn't be prouder of my girls.”

Jessie was amazed. “You've never told us that before.”

“Just because I couldn't always be there doesn't mean I didn't care. But the thing that saved me was knowing the two of you had each other, that you were in your best possible place. If you're mad at each other, then nothing in the world makes sense.”

Jessie turned to her sister. “Luz? Luz, please.”

Maybe it was Glenny's encouragement or maybe it was the
please
that did it. Luz grabbed on to Jessie and they fell together in a tangle of arms and legs, hugging and letting the tears come at last.

Luz had always regarded the Alamo as a monument to tragedy and failure, haunted by the ghosts of soldiers abandoned to hold out against Santa Ana's legions. Yet on a sunny Friday in late February, Texas's most familiar landmark made its way into her viewfinder. She'd driven down to San Antonio for the afternoon to photograph the First Communion of Arnufo's granddaughter, Guadalupe.

As the solemn processional passed by the Alamo in a traditional march to the historic chapel, Luz found herself enchanted. Against the cobblestones and sandstone-colored mission, the little girls clad in white dresses and mantillas resembled tiny, perfect bride dolls. They went along the West Barracks and past the Cenotaph, crossing Colonel Travis's legendary line in the sand, now a brass bar in the flagstones. Using a powerful telephoto lens, Luz zoomed in close to capture the essence of their childlike purity—large brown eyes surrounded by black velvet lashes, the fall of sunlight on a glossy, waist-length braid, a precious family rosary wound between fingers with nails painted a chipped, dime-store pink.
Occasionally she locked onto a not-so-secret smile, punctuated by missing teeth.

Taking pictures had always given Luz a way of putting the world into her own perspective. The Alamo didn't thrill her, but a parade of six-year-old Catholic girls made the tragedy cease to haunt. She caught one last shot of Guadalupe as she passed by her proud parents and grandfather and continued into the sanctuary. Arnufo had invited Luz to join the family celebration after the mass, but she'd declined. That was a time for snapshots and home videos. Besides, Luz needed to get back to Edenville. Life didn't simply stop and wait for her because she had a new career. There was supper to cook, clothes to fold, homework to check, hugs to dispense. A husband to attend to—as much as she ever did these days. She pushed aside the worrisome thought of Ian and concentrated on other, easier matters.

Her mother and Stuart would be leaving soon, and Luz would miss them. It had been a good visit despite the devastating reason for their trip. This past week, Luz and even Jessie had had the most honest conversations of their lives with their mother. Glenny had done the best she could; she honestly had. Now she was teaching the boys to play golf while Stuart surprised everyone by having a fine hand at the bluegrass fiddle. He'd even given Lila a few lessons.

Lila.

As Luz set her bags on the hood of her car to start digging for keys, she yearned for the slow-moving, uncomplicated days of Lila's early childhood, when it was a simple matter to make her laugh and bedtime meant kisses and I-love-yous and when Lila looked at her and said, “Mommy.”

This deep gash of separation was supposed to happen, Luz assured herself. In adolescence, teenagers drew away in order to find their own lives. It was a natural progression of things.
But Lila's transition was that much more dramatic because of the terror she'd faced in the accident and their disclosure about the adoption.

I think it bothers you a hell of a lot more than it bothers her, Glenny had observed.

Luz found the key, put her gear in the car, then searched under the visor for the parking card. Through the windshield, she glimpsed a familiar figure and blinked, certain she was hallucinating. But no, there across Alamo Plaza was her husband.

Reflexively she started to get out of the car and call out to him, to ask him what he was doing in San Antonio, talking at length to the bell captain of the Menger, San Antonio's most romantic hotel.

But she didn't get out of the car. While the blood chilled in her veins, Luz reached into her camera bag and fit a powerful telephoto lens onto the camera body. Peering through the viewfinder, she brought her husband into sharp focus. He looked wonderful in his best suit, yet his manner seemed a bit bashful, nothing like the crusading attorney known to intimidate sitting judges.

He reminded her of the man she had met in Gutman Library sixteen years earlier.

That memory, like so many others, was tainted now. She used to believe his face had lit up at their first meeting because he found her attractive. Now she wondered if his face lit up because she reminded him of his ex-lover—her sister, Jessie.

She focused on the parcel he held, a glossy black bag from Neiman Marcus. To her knowledge, Ian had never been to Neiman Marcus in his life.

Other lawyers' wives had warned her repeatedly. Don't call him in the middle of the night. Don't follow him to out-of-
town depositions. Don't scratch the surface and look at the secrets that lay beneath.

Those warnings had never applied to Luz. She didn't have a wandering husband. Ian would never succumb to the fleeting charms of eager young interns. And yet as he folded a generous tip into the bell captain's hand and then was swallowed by the brass-and-glass revolving door, every warning and doubt Luz had ever had rang in her head.

With shaking hands, she thrust the camera away. This was it, then, the dark side of her deception, punishment for staying silent about Lila, for not seeing the truth even as it stared her in the face. Now she was reduced to peering at her wayward husband like a two-bit private eye.

When her cell phone chirped, she jumped, still unused to having the gadget. Ian had given it to her for Valentine's Day, another wholly practical gift like the Christmas fax and modem line. It had not come in a glossy black bag.

She excavated the tiny phone. “Luz Ryder Benning.” She was growing more and more accustomed to her professional name, but it was still a mouthful and sounded made up, as though it belonged to a stranger.

“Mrs. Benning?” His deep, rich voice melted her bones.

“Yes?”

“I have a proposition to make you.”

Her heart sped up. “Yes?”

“Get your sweet little Texas ass over here and you'll find out.”

The shit. He'd known she was there all along. Before she could reply, he hung up. Feeling both unnerved and foolish, she crossed the plaza to the hotel. The bell captain approached and handed her a key card, directing her to a room on the third floor.

Except “room” was an understatement. It was a suite with
soaring ceilings, a canopy bed and bathroom with a marble tub, and an iron-railed balcony projecting out over a patio with a fountain. Ian was nowhere to be found. On the faux Queen Anne luggage rack stood the glossy black shopping bag, which contained a stunning bustier, matching skirt and black sandals. A
bustier?
She did a double take.

Propped against the pillow was a hand-lettered invitation; she was startled to recognize Lila's curly calligraphy. “The pleasure of your company is requested—6:00 at the Rough Rider Bar.”

Luz phoned home, and Jessie picked up. “This had better not be my sister.”

“Jessie, what's going on?”

“I swear, Luz, you are dumber than a box of hair. Don't you dare call me again.” She hung up.

Luz stared at the phone in her hand for a long time. Then she switched the power off.

 

Two hours later, wearing the slim black skirt and daring bustier, of all things, Luz walked into the Menger Bar. A half-dozen heads swiveled in her direction as she stood in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the dimness while piano music streamed from a smoky corner. A replica of the House of Lords Pub in London, the bar had a paneled ceiling of cherrywood, booths with French beveled mirrors and decorated glass cabinets.

As she crossed the room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the famous carved bar, reputed to bear the bullet holes of Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders, recruited here for the Spanish-American war. She barely recognized her reflection. She was a glamorous stranger with gleaming hair in a French twist, an exotic outfit, a little beaded evening bag.

Ian stood as she approached the richly upholstered booth where he waited. “Wow,” he said. “It's amazing what a little hotel shampoo can do.”

“Along with a personal shopper.”

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Blair LaBorde helped.” He laid a slim velvet box in a distinctive color of blue on the table. “I picked this out myself.”

A little thrill rolled through her. She could feel every bone of the bustier pressing against her ribs. Judging by the size of the box, it wasn't the usual electronic gizmo or power tool. But this was Ian, she reminded herself. Mr. Apron-And-Barbecue Tools for our anniversary.

Picking up the Tiffany box, she sat down next him at the table and peeked inside. It was a shining gold chain with a trillium-cut emerald pendant.

She snapped the box shut. “You're having an affair.”

“What?”

“You're having an affair, and this is a sop for your guilt.”

“Very funny, Mrs. Benning.” He opened the box and lifted out the necklace. “Here, let me put this on you.”

As his fingers clasped the chain around her throat, she felt a flush rise through her. “I'm sorry, Ian. That was petty of me. I'm just…so surprised by all this.”

“You're supposed to be.” Taking her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “I do want to have an affair, Luz. With my incredible wife. My God, you are gorgeous.” He wasn't speaking in the usual way, but with the rare intensity she used to glimpse in him when they had first met.

But old habits died hard. He leaned forward to kiss her and she ended it abruptly, pulling back to say, “So who's watching the kids?”

His jaw twitched. “I think between your mother and Stu
art, Jessie and Lila, they can manage. If they need to call in the big guns, there's always Dusty Matlock.”

“The only one even remotely qualified is Arnufo, and he's staying with his daughter in San Antonio.”

He grinned. “You really believe that.”

“It's really true.”

The grin disappeared. “Only because you've made it that way by always taking charge. Just let go, Luz. Maybe they're not going to do everything exactly your way, but I think we can safely assume they're all going to be fed and eventually put to bed.”

She shut her eyes, thinking about how she always gave Owen a fresh glass of water on the bedside table and how Scottie needed three particular stuffed animals wedged around him just so….

“Luz.” His urgent tone startled her, and she opened her eyes. “I need for you to be with me.”

She studied his face, the years etched there by laughing and loving and caring. And finally she understood. “All right,” she said.

Their love affair had been carefully planned and orchestrated. After drinks, he took her for dinner at the Anaqua Grill, where she ate things that cost more than a week's worth of groceries at the Country Boy. Amid couples leaning intimately toward each other across linen-draped tables, they dined in a setting of lush gardens, fountains and strolling pheasants. When the small ensemble struck up “Blue Bayou,” Ian held out his hand.

“Let's dance.”

“You don't dance.”

“And you don't—” he leaned forward and whispered a suggestion into her ear “—but there's a first time for everything.” After all these years, he could still make her blush. He was
a terrible dancer but she felt wonderful in his arms. “This is nice,” she said.

“Yeah.”

His tone made her laugh. “You hate this.”

“All guys hate dancing. We do it so women will have sex with us later.”

She lifted her face to look at him. “It's working.”

They had planned to take a water taxi back to the Menger, but didn't want to compete with the groups of loud tourists hurrying to the next mariachi-and-margarita stop. Instead they strolled along the Riverwalk, San Antonio's breathtaking thoroughfare lined with shops and restaurants hung with twinkling lights. Luz took off the designer sandals and went barefoot, leaning her cheek against Ian as he walked with his arm around her. Passersby smiled when they saw them, and that made Luz smile, too. “People think we're newlyweds.”

“Let's be, for tonight. I'd planned to stop at La Fogada for cappuccino, but hell, Luz. How bad do you need a cappuccino?”

His impatience caused her smile to widen, and then she startled herself by sharing that impatience. “I don't.”

“Me, neither.”

The hotel room was set for seduction in every sense of the word—dim lighting and a luxurious bed, a bottle of Cristal Rose '95 in a chrome bucket, soft music drifting from unseen stereo speakers. But Luz balked. She had to get to the bottom of this. “Ian Benning, you are genetically incapable of planning an evening like this. Who helped you?”

“Jessie. Your mom and Lila. Blair, too. My Lord, that woman knows how to spend.”

Luz dropped the beaded bag on a tapestried chair. “So how about you tell me why.”

He looked baffled as he loosened his tie. She saw that it
was the Hermès knockoff she'd given him one Christmas. “Because they all love you, Luz.”

His matter-of-fact certainty hit her with unexpected force. She often dwelled on how much she loved the people in her life, but it was rare to consider how much they loved her.

“Then what's the occasion?”

Leaving the tie hanging, he went to the armoire and took out a large clasped envelope. “Well, for one thing, this.”

She was stunned to see a letter from the University of Texas's Dean of Arts and Sciences, along with a sheaf of forms to fill out. “It says here that, based on my practical experience in the field, they're granting me my degree.” Her hand shook a little as she set down the envelope. “Wonders never cease. I finally finished something.”

“I'm proud of you, Luz. We all are. But you've never needed an international award or a college degree to make me proud.” Crossing the room to her, he took her in his arms. “And I did not arrange this whole thing just because you got a letter.”

“Then why?”

“Because we need to find each other again, Luz, and I want tonight to be the beginning of that.”

Dear God. She and Ian didn't speak of things like this. Foreboding slipped over her like a phantom chill. “What do you mean?”