Diamond Spur Read online

  “Did you tell her that?”

  He laughed. “Of course not.”

  “You might consider that some people won’t hurt you deliberately, even if you provoke them,” she said. She touched his hand, where it rested on her hair. “Do you have children of your own yet?”

  He hesitated. “There was an almost child. Kate lost him on a business trip.”

  “And of course you blamed her,” his mother said indulgently. “And you couldn’t forgive her, or yourself for not stopping her.”

  “Stop that,” he muttered. “You’re as bad as she is.”

  “Mothers have intuition,” she said. “And I remember your father, so well. When he died, Jason, was it easy?”

  “In his sleep,” he replied. “It was quick.”

  “I’m glad.” She wiped away more tears. “I loved him so. I never stopped. He was my whole world.”

  He frowned a little, watching her. “I don’t understand.”

  “There was a third baby, Jason,” she said after a minute, and she felt for his hand, holding it hard as she spoke. “A little girl, barely three days old. Your father had gone to get the car, for us all to go to church. He didn’t see me when he started to back up, and he backed into me.” She stopped. “The baby died and I almost died. I could never have any more children. He started drinking then. That was just before Sheila came to work for us. I tried to make him get help. But he wouldn’t admit that he needed it. He grieved himself almost to death, God love him. At least, he’s at peace now.”

  “My God. Nobody ever talked about that,” he said. “And he mentioned a girl from time to time, but I didn’t realize it was a child.”

  “We kept to ourselves back then,” she replied. “Not many people even knew I was pregnant, and after it happened, I guess they all assumed that I’d miscarried. By the time I left, it was ancient history.” She smiled wistfully. “But you see, Jason, people aren’t ogres without reason. I understood him, but at the last, he became so violent. I would have kept trying even so, but when I was blinded there was no hope. So all these years I’ve lived with the terror of how it would be for you and Gene. I even tried to intervene once, through a teacher, but they told me it was no use. Your father could be so kind, so gentle, when he wasn’t drinking,” she recalled. “I loved him so much. And I’m so sorry that you and Gene had to live that way. That I deserted you…”

  “Gene and I are survivors,” he interrupted. “We have good marriages, and we have the Spur.” He muttered. “We have it because of Kate, but we have it.”

  “What?”

  “She put every penny she had in the bank into the Spur and stopped them from selling it at public auction.” He grimaced. “And I gave her hell.”

  “It hurt your pride,” his mother agreed. “Yes, I can understand that. But your pride won’t make up for losing a woman like that. Why don’t you consider going home?”

  “I just got here.”

  She smiled. “Then you’ll know the way back.” She settled into her pillows. “You can bring Gene and the wives to see me. I’d like that.”

  He studied the timeworn features quietly. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you back with me.”

  Her face tautened. “No.”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to go back to the Spur.”

  “It’s not the way it used to be,” he said gently. “And memories aren’t so horrible, once you get control over them. Think about the happy times.”

  “Can you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve gotten to that point, yes. He didn’t drink all the time. He had the occasional good day. There were times when he sat and talked about you until he got hoarse. He never stopped loving you.”

  She bit her lower lip. “If only,” she whispered.

  He nodded, although she couldn’t see him. “If only.”

  “It’s a long drive back to Texas,” she remarked after a minute, and looked worried.

  “I don’t speed,” he told her. “And you can lie in the back seat if you’d rather.”

  “Lie in the back seat?” She stared toward him. “I’ll have you know that when I’m in between bouts of bronchitis like the one I’ve just beaten, I play golf.”

  He gaped at her. “Alone?”

  “It’s safer for the spectators that way,” she murmured, tongue in cheek. “Blindness isn’t so horrible. I have memories, you know, of sunsets and lazy spring landscapes and Texas bluebonnets. And I get around pretty well. They’re letting me get up this afternoon, and I’ll show you what I mean. If you’re still around, that is.”

  There was soft hope in that careless comment, and he smiled. “Oh, I’ll be around for a while,” he mused. “I want Kate to miss me bad before I go home. And I’ll take you with me for a peace offering.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I guess I’ll go with you, then.” She smiled to herself. “I’ll be your navigator. We can go home by way of Alaska.”

  He laughed delightedly. “That’s a deal. We’ll make it home in time for Christmas,” he told her. “Sit tight. I’m going to talk to the administrator and your doctor, and we’ll see what we can arrange.” He bent down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Don’t you worry, honey, I’ll break you out of this place, if I have to use a nail file on the bars.”

  She laughed. The sound was odd because it had been a long time since she had. And when she heard him leave, the tears fell again. So much happiness, after so much pain. Her son. Here, and not hating her. That was all the Christmas present she needed. Thank God for miracles, she prayed silently. Oh, thank God!

  Christmas Eve came and Kate had eaten supper by herself. Then, feeling a need for it, she’d gone to the Christmas Eve service at the local Presbyterian church, where they had a candlelight service and sang Christmas hymns. She found a measure of peace in the small, very old confines of the small seventy-year-old church. She still hadn’t heard from Jason, and she was worried about him. She didn’t even know where to look.

  Gene had been equally upset, but he was no more capable than Kate was of tracking down a man who didn’t want to be found.

  “Maybe he’s holed up in a motel somewhere,” Gene sighed.

  “I hope so,” Kate had replied quietly. “Oh, Gene, I wish I’d listened to you. I’ve done it again.”

  “Your heart was in the right place,” he comforted her. “He’ll get over it. It may take a while, but he’ll get himself straightened out and when he does, he’ll come home.”

  “He’ll probably divorce me,” she laughed miserably.

  “A man who could look at a painting of you the way he did won’t divorce you.”

  Kate had thought about that. But it was only desire on his part. He’d never professed any undying love for her. He’d never pretended that he wanted any more than her body and her loyalty. He had those. But she loved him as well. And while he was willing to take the love she offered, he had none to give.

  She went back home alone, tossing her purse onto the hall table as she entered the well-lit house. She took off her burgundy wool cape and smoothed down the emerald green silk of her high-necked dress with its bishop sleeves and faintly full skirt. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, soft and silky. And when she looked in the hall mirror, her face had a new light, a glow almost. She smiled at her reflection, because she felt pregnant. If only she were.

  A sound in the living room caught her off guard. She turned, and there was Jason, looking taller than ever in a gray suit, watching her curiously.

  “So you came home,” she said icily, when she wanted to throw herself at him and kiss him until he was in danger of suffocating. But she kept herself aloof with an effort. She wasn’t taking one step toward him ever again. He was going to have to do the work this time.

  “I own it,” he replied, his smile resigned. She wasn’t disposed to forgive and forget, that was obvious. He’d outraged her feelings. Again. But there was still time, he felt sure of it. He knew she was glad to
see him, even if she was hiding it fairly well.

  “Part of it,” she agreed, her green eyes steady. “Would you like to split it up into his and hers, or would you rather I just asked for my money back and let the bank have it?”

  “Suit yourself, honey, but I don’t think we’d enjoy living in the bank,” he replied dryly.

  She cocked her head and stared at him curiously. He was oddly easygoing, as if he’d never stormed out of the house and vanished.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “I could ask you that if I cared,” she said with sweet venom in her tone. “I’ve been to church.”

  He smiled at her temper. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Nice of you to remember,” she said unsteadily, because he was moving closer. She didn’t want him to touch her. She backed away. “I didn’t think you were coming home at all.”

  He stopped when he noticed her withdrawal. Slow, he told himself. Don’t rush it. “Sheila left about the time we got here. She made us some coffee.”

  Us. He’d said us. For one wild, horrible moment she thought he’d brought some woman home, until her common sense got control of the panic. She straightened. He could mean a businessman, of course.

  “Us?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He turned, gesturing for her to lead the way.

  There was a small, old woman sitting in an armchair by the crackling fire. Her silver hair framed a worn face containing quiet, unseeing brown eyes under dark eyebrows. She was wearing a simple brown cotton dress with stockings and old-fashioned lace-up black shoes with wide heels. And beside her was a coat that Kate might have found at a rummage sale several years back.

  “Mrs. Donavan,” Kate said, because she felt it. Knew it.

  Nell’s face lit up. “Yes,” she said, laughing. “Kate!” she guessed with uncanny accuracy, and held out her arms.

  Kate went into them without a word, holding the older woman, rocking her gently. So this was why Jason looked so different, so relaxed and quiet and tender. He’d gone to see his mother. He’d made his peace, at last. She wouldn’t ask how, or why. It was enough that he had.

  “How lovely to meet you at last,” Nell sighed. “I’ve heard a lot about you over the past few days.” She touched Kate’s face, tracing the perfect features, the long hair. “Yes. I pictured you this way. You’re very young, Kate.”

  “Almost twenty-one,” Kate said.

  “I was a year younger than you when I had my first child,” Nell said. “When I had Jason. He was the sweetest baby. So easy to care for, so undemanding.”

  Kate glanced at him. “My, my, how he changed,” she said with a poisonous smile.

  His eyebrows arched. “Naughty, naughty,” he scolded. “It’s Christmas.”

  “Not quite,” she replied. “Have you called Gene?” she added.

  “That should be him, now,” he said, nodding toward the headlights that briefly sprayed the window, followed by the sound of an engine dying and two doors opening.

  “I’ll let him in,” Kate volunteered, and went briskly to the front door.

  Gene looked ruffled. Really ruffled. Cherry was with him, and her eyes were bright with excitement.

  “She’s in there?” Gene asked. “What’s she like, is she nice?”

  “Go and see for yourself,” Kate prompted, smiling.

  Gene walked into the doorway, smiling hesitantly at Jason. “Mama?” he said as he looked at the small, frail woman. Unlike Jason, he didn’t recognize her. He’d only been around six when she’d left them.

  Her head turned, but her eyes didn’t focus. She smiled. “Is that Gene?”

  Gene’s face froze. When he realized that she was blind, he understood, as Jason had, without a word being spoken, without a single explanation. He moved closer, going down on one knee beside the frail figure with eyes that were misty and searching.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he got out. He touched her wrinkled hand, held it gently. “It’s me.”

  She reached out to his face and smiled as she touched it, felt the sudden wetness under his eyes. “There, there,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

  He held her, as Jason had, his head on her thin shoulder, his heart breaking.

  Cherry and Kate went into the hall, and Jason followed them, giving Gene the time he needed to speak to her alone.

  “She’s not as old as I thought she’d be,” Cherry said. “And she seems lovely.”

  “She’s had a hard time of it,” Jason replied. “Gene can tell you, later. How about something to drink? Milk for you,” he told Cherry with a rakish grin and a glance at her midriff. “But Kate can have something stronger if she likes.”

  “I’ll have coffee, if there is any,” Kate said coldly.

  “I’ll get my own milk,” Cherry sighed. “The sacrifices I don’t make for baby.”

  Kate’s face closed up at that innocent remark, and Jason saw it and felt even worse than he had.

  She poured herself coffee, and got down another cup and saucer when he announced that he thought he’d join her. She filled it and pushed it toward him without looking. Then she led the way into his study, where she sat down on a leather chair, looking unapproachable.

  Cherry, sensing undercurrents, excused herself on the pretext of making more coffee for Gene and Mrs. Donavan.

  Jason sat down in the armchair facing Kate’s. Balancing his coffee cup and saucer on his lap, he proceeded to light a cigarette.

  “Are we still speaking?” he asked after a minute.

  “You had more than enough to say before you left,” she reminded him. She sipped her coffee, grimacing when she scalded her lip.

  “I guess I did.” He leaned back, smoking his cigarette quietly. “When we go upstairs, I’d like to talk to you, Kate.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “You’d like to take me to bed. That’s all you’ve ever wanted from me. It’s all I’ve come to expect. And when you’ve finally had your fill, and you’re satisfied, you’ll turn your back and walk away.” She wasn’t sure she believed that, but her emotions were all over the place lately and she was still angry at him for going off and not letting her know where he was.

  He didn’t believe what he was hearing. Didn’t she know how he felt? Didn’t she have any idea?

  “Kate, it’s not that way,” he began.

  But before he could say any more, Gene was standing in the doorway, smiling. “Isn’t she a doll?” he asked Jason. “My God, I hardly believe it.”

  “I know,” Jason said gently. “I’ve got a lot of guilt to live with over the way I’ve treated her these last years.”

  “She doesn’t blame you,” Gene reminded him. “Nobody does. Except you, Jason. You’re the one with the hang-up about perfection. The rest of us just live with being human.” He said it lightly, and in a way that didn’t offend, but it cut Jason to the heart.

  “I always thought I had to be more than that.” He looked at Kate. “I thought everyone did. Now I’m sorry I didn’t realize it before,” he added.

  Kate looked up, studying him quietly. That felt as if he were trying to tell her something.

  “We don’t have a present for Mama,” Gene said suddenly. “And tomorrow is Christmas.”

  “You two are the best present of all,” Kate replied. “But I have a bolt of satin and I’m quick. I’ll bet I could make her a robe by midnight, if I start now. She’s an eight petite,” she murmured, rising.

  “Not on Christmas Eve,” Jason protested.

  He was thinking of her comfort, but that wasn’t how she interpreted it. She gave him a look that could have curdled milk.

  “Sewing isn’t work to me. It’s pleasure. Right now, it’s about the only one I have.”

  She turned and left the room and Jason cursed roughly under his breath.

  “Now what have I said?” Jason muttered. “My God, I can’t open my mouth….”

  “Pregnant women get fussy,” Gene sighed. “I can’t say goo
d morning to Cherry without getting my head snapped off.”

  Jason glanced at his brother. “Kate isn’t pregnant,” he said slowly.

  “Well, well,” Gene mused, pursing his lips as he studied his brother’s hard face. “Talk about the husband being the last to know. Sheila says Kate thinks she is.”

  Jason started toward the staircase, his eyes horrified. Again. It was all happening again. The disbelief, the distrust, the doubt. But on her side this time. Something inside him snapped. Not again!

  He left Gene standing there and started up the staircase, his eyes blazing. No, by God, not again! Not this time. She was going to listen to him if he had to tie her to her sewing machine.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Kate was in the guest bedroom where she kept the sewing machine Jason had given her that long ago Christmas before they were married. The bed had long since been taken down to make room. She had a drafting board in there, along with a table for cutting cloth and a dressmaker’s fitting form to use when she draped designs. She had threads and needles, scissors, tailor’s chalk, vellum paper, tracing paper, and all the other accessories of her trade. There was an iron and ironing board, too, and a rack to hang garments on.

  Jason paused at the doorway, watching her pin a pattern into place on a length of blue satin.

  She glanced at him, but that was all. “Did you want something?” she asked defiantly, remembering the day he’d left and his parting shot about their marriage being his biggest mistake.

  He sighed. He hadn’t expected her to make it easy. He hadn’t left her like a loving husband, and he had some regrets about the things he’d said to her. He could imagine that she remembered every single one, verbatim, judging by the look on her face.

  He studied her quietly, a kind of aching pride at her softly glowing beauty. She looked pregnant, if that was anything to go by. And he felt warm and delightfully hungry all over, just looking at her.

  He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door facing, looking elegantly sexy. He’d taken off his tie and suit coat and loosened the top buttons of his white silk shirt.