Texas Heat (53 page)

“You understand,” she said to Shadaharu Hasegawa, “why I have to go to New York.”

The old Japanese bowed and nodded. “But of course, Mrs. Tanner. We will handle everything in your absence.”

“I know that. If you need them, there are two other phones in the study. Both private lines.” She embraced the old man and looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Riley will come out of this just fine. Trust us. My daughter wouldn't have asked us to do what we did otherwise.”

“You will please give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

“I'll do that, Mr. Hasegawa,” Maggie said in a choked voice.

Martin, the chauffeur, blew the horn in front of the house. “Mam, you should be the one going, not me,” Maggie said.

“No. It's you Sawyer needs.”

Maggie kissed them all and hugged Jessie. “I'm not deserting you, boys. It's just that Sawyer needs me more. Or I need her. Rand, take care of my boys,” she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“My best to Sawyer.”

“Our love,” everyone chorused.

A few minutes later the Mercedes 300 SD roared down the road to the arched gate. The guards moved back, and the car shot through as though jet-propelled. The reporters standing guard hopped in their cars and followed. Forty-five minutes later, Maggie climbed aboard a Coleman Lear jet and was airborne in less than ten minutes.

When she landed at Kennedy Airport, she went straight to Adam's apartment. He answered the door. “I wasn't sure you'd be here,” she said nervously. “How is she?”

“Holding her own. They're running tests. I'm going to the hospital later. They want her a little stronger before they operate, my guess would be at least five days. What are we standing here for? Come on up.”

“I can stay someplace else if—”

“No way. You're staying here. I even think we have clean towels.”

“The price sounds right,” Maggie said quietly.

“I heard the news. How's it going?”

Maggie shrugged. “It's only been a day and a half. I wanted to be here; they can all ... The boys ... There's Mr....”

“I understand. Coffee?”

“Yes, I could use a cup. How are you?” Maggie asked, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, I'm t-u-f-f! I'm from Texas.”

“Sometimes I wish I'd never heard of the state,” Maggie said wearily, then grimaced. “This coffee is terrible! How old is it?”

Adam shrugged. “Yesterday, I guess. Let me make some fresh. It'll give me something to do.”

“Have you spoken to the doctors?”

“No. I thought maybe this evening I'd get a chance. Sawyer is comfortable. They're medicating her and she isn't in too much pain. She's drowsy most of the time.”

“I want to go with you this evening.”

“Good,” Adam said as he measured coffee into the wire basket. “I think you should talk to the doctor, too.”

“How upset do you think Sawyer is going to be when she sees that I'm here?”

“I don't know. She isn't exactly with it, if you know what I mean.”

While the situation in Texas brewed and simmered, Maggie made daily treks to the hospital. Most of the time Sawyer was sleeping, but she'd stay and try to read. Once Sawyer woke and stared across at Maggie. “You remind me of a vulture, just waiting to descend,” Sawyer said through clenched teeth. “If I had any strength, I'd tell them to throw you out.”

“Not a vulture, Sawyer. How about a mother hen? I wouldn't let them throw me out.”

“Vulture.”

“Mother hen.”

“Damn you.”

“Why are you damning me?”

“For never being there when I needed you,” Sawyer said, tears slipping through her lashes.

“I can't change that time in our lives. I'm here now.”

“It's too late.”

“Do you want me to grovel? I will. Do you want me to kiss your feet? I will. If you want me to leave, I won't.”

“You left the boys, knowing what was going on,” Sawyer said, mustering all the anger she could.

“It was a question of priorities. The boys will be fine. I believe that, and I know you do, too. If you hadn't had the guts to do this, we'd all still be sucking our thumbs. You're my daughter and I'm proud of you.”

“Is this where we kiss and make up, and I say I'm proud to have you for my mother?”

“Only if you want to. I don't expect anything from you, Sawyer. I just want you to understand. If only you'd try, we might be able to go on from there.”

“Just me and you. And Rand.”

“Don't bring Rand into this. It's just you and me, kid.”

“Go home, Maggie. I can't give you what you want.”

“What is it you think I want?”

“You know what you want,” Sawyer said uncertainly.

“No, you tell me. Tell me what it is you think I want. I want to hear it from you.”

“Go away. Nurse,” she called weakly.

“What is it I want, Sawyer?”

“To pretend you're my mother. To pretend you are. You want me to believe that. Well, I don't. You never cared. You never even tried.”

“That was then and this is now. Give me a chance. Please, Sawyer.”

When Sawyer didn't respond, Maggie panicked and called the nurse. “What happened? Is anything wrong?” She asked anxiously.

“No, Mrs. Tanner. She does that. Just slips into a deep sleep for a while. Why don't you go home and get some rest.”

“I guess I will. You'll call if...”

“Of course we will,” the nurse said compassionately.

“How do you do it?” Maggie whispered. “How can you take care of dying patients day after day?”

“I like to think I make their days a little better. I do my best; we all do here. There are some days when I say I'm not coming back tomorrow, and then someone like your daughter comes in who has a fighting chance, and I want to be sure she gets it. I guess that's it.”

“Bless you,” Maggie said hoarsely. “Take care of her.”

“We will.”

Adam looked up from his worktable as Maggie let herself into the loft. “Not a good evening, huh?” he said sympathetically.

“I might have been too hard on her. She fought me. Then she slipped off to sleep. The nurse told me to come home.”

“At least you're obedient. Want a sandwich?”

“I suppose so. How old is the coffee?”

“Fresh.”

“Adam, where are my diaries?”

“In the hall closet in the bag you brought them in. I wouldn't let her burn them.”

“Thank you for that. I think maybe I'm spinning my wheels trying to talk to her. I can never convince her that I ... Oh, what's the use?”

Adam nodded to show he understood as he slapped mustard on some tired-looking bologna. Maggie ate her sandwich mechanically, not tasting anything. She drank cup after cup of coffee. “How's your work going?”

“Okay, I guess. Actually, my editor told me it's some of my best yet. I can't figure that out. The stuff I turned out in Texas really had grit in it.”

“You're telling me. I think it helped, though. You really love her, don't you?”

“Body and soul. I think she cares for me, too. Not a dependent kind of caring, either. Hell, I know the difference. If she'd just let go, we might have a shot at something really good. If only we had more time.”

Maggie snorted. “Time. It's everyone's enemy.” She stood up wearily. “I guess I should call home.”

“Oh, hell, I almost forgot. Billie called while you were at the hospital. You made the headlines. The newspapers said you cut and ran. Deserted the kiddies and are seeking sanctuary here, in the city where millions can get lost. A whole bunch of bullshit, if you'll excuse the expression.”

“What's going on?” she asked sourly.

“Just what you'd expect. Ben Simms was interviewed on the morning news, the noon news, the six-o'clock news, and the evening news. The Colemans are standing fast and speaking only through their attorneys. By tomorrow everyone'll know why you're here. There are some decent reporters out there. If and when you want to make a statement, I'd appreciate it if you'd do it through a buddy of mine. It'll be printed just the way you give it to him. He's an ace.”

“When it's time. I'm tired now. I think I'll turn in if you don't mind.”

At five-thirty the following morning, the phone rang. Adam got it on the first ring and craned his neck. Good, it hadn't wakened Maggie.

It was Sloan-Kettering. Sawyer wanted to see him. He dressed hurriedly, fishing his running clothes from the closet. His eyes fell upon the bag with Maggie's diaries and he grabbed it on impulse.

Sawyer was wide awake when he arrived, more coherent than she'd been in days. “They want to operate this afternoon. One o'clock, they said.” Adam nodded. He felt a lump in his throat. “I said okay.” Adam nodded. The lump was getting bigger. “Maybe I do love you. You're so goofy, who could help but love you? That cat has to go, though.” He couldn't swallow past the lump, nodded, and wondered if he was drooling. “What's in the bag? The diaries?” Another nod. “Okay, read them to me.”

“You want me to read them?” Adam asked, startled into speech.

“I can barely see, so who else is there?”

Adam opened the first little journal and began to read. He felt terrible, as if he were prying into Maggie Coleman's life. He knew she hadn't intended the diaries for anyone's eyes but her daughter's. Somehow, though, he didn't think she would mind. He read on, finishing one and picking up another. Sawyer lay still, her eyes closed. One time he looked up, thinking she was asleep. “Keep going. Don't stop,” she said weakly.

He read on, from time to time noticing a tear roll down her cheeks. When he'd finished the last page and closed the journal, Sawyer opened her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Eleven o'clock. Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“They'll be coming in to give me a shot soon. And they have to shave my hair. Will you do something for me?”

“Name it.”

“Call my mother. Tell her I want to see her.”

“Okay, sure.” God, there was so little time left. He might never see her again. They might never be able to banter back and forth. He might not be able to yell at her to wash the towels. They now had eighty-four of them.

“Adam, what are you thinking?”

Adam told her.

“I'm glad you didn't lie to me. We have eighty-four towels, though.” They both laughed. “Will you hold my hand a minute? You know, I can hardly see you.”

“Why would you want to look at me?” he asked huskily as he squeezed her hand.

Sawyer didn't answer. “Will you wait? It's going to be a long operation.”

“I'll read a book, maybe one of those trashy romances you read.”

“Okay. Are you going to call Ma—my mother?”

“As soon as you let go of my hand. You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Tell the boys . . . You know what to tell them. You know, in case... And Adam ...”

“Yes?”

“Sometimes first loves aren't what they're cracked up to be. Sometimes it's the last love that counts.”

Shit, he was crying. It was a good thing she couldn't see him. He bent down to kiss her cheek and was surprised when she turned so his lips would find hers. It was a long kiss, and by the time it was over, the blood was roaring through his veins.

Sawyer heard the door close behind him. “Good-bye, Adam,” she said softly.

The nurse came in, her starched uniform crackling busily. She readied a hypodermic. Another nurse came in with a covered tray to shave her head. She prayed silently.

 

Maggie picked up the phone and listened to Adam. “She said
what
?”

“She said, call my mother. In fact, she said it twice. Not Maggie, ‘my mother.' Hurry up. I don't know what the shot will do to her.”

Maggie was out of the apartment and down the stairs within minutes. She ran up the street and across and out onto the road. She flagged a cab and told him where she wanted to go. The driver took one look at her face and sped away. When he pulled to the curb minutes later, Maggie handed him some crumpled bills. She had no idea if it was too much or too little—she couldn't even read the meter.

“Good luck, ma'am.”

“Thank you,” Maggie whispered. “Thank you very much.” She was breathless when she got out of the elevator. The first person she saw was Adam. Part of her registered that he was carrying the flight bag that contained her diaries. Quickly he told her what he'd done.

Outside Sawyer's room, she stopped long enough to take several deep breaths, then went inside.

She thought she could feel death in the room. So close. She wanted to shout, to scream, “Not yet!” She walked over to the bed where Sawyer lay so still. There was a puckered cap on her head. She'd never really noticed before how long and thick Sawyer's lashes were. It was hard to tell now where they started, with the sooty smudges under her eyes. “Sawyer, are you awake?” she whispered.

Sawyer heard the words and tried to make her tongue work. She felt as if there were cotton balls in her mouth. She tried again. Her arms flailed at the air around her.

Maggie, sensing what was wrong, reached for her hand and clasped it tightly in both of hers. “I'm here.” Sawyer squeezed slightly. Maggie tried to find her own voice and had to clear her throat twice. “Adam told me he read you the diaries. All I want, Sawyer, is for you to tell me you understand. Later, we'll work on the rest. Blink, baby, if you understand.” Sawyer's eyelashes fluttered faintly.