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“All right.” But there was hesitation in her voice as she took notice of the smears of dust on Jessy’s white jeans and saw the taut pallor underlying her skin. “Ty’s lip was cut. There wasn’t an accident or a fight?”
“No.” With a trace of self-consciousness, Jessy brushed at her jeans. “I guess I got dirty trying to get Ty out of the truck.” When Jessy turned to leave, a consuming curiosity prompted her to turn back. “Mrs. Calder, who is Tara? Ty mentioned her name several times tonight.”
“Tara is the daughter of E. J. Dyson.” She seemed almost relieved by the question. “She’s a lovely girl. I’m not surprised he mentioned her. He’s been dating Tara for some time now.”
“I see,” Jessy murmured. “Good night, Mrs. Calder.”
“Good night, Jessy. And thank you for making sure Ty got home safely,” she added.
Halfway to South Branch, the tears finally began to collect in Jessy’s eyes and slide down her lashes. Her cheekbones glistened wetly, but there was no one to see except the thousands of stars in the sky or the luminous, shining eyes of a coyote trotting across the road in front of her truck.
At The Homestead, Maggie looked in on their daughter, who had slept soundly through Ty’s noisy arrival home. Chase joined her in the upstairs hallway after manhandling their son into bed, where he’d started snoring almost as soon as he hit the mattress.
“Ty was right when he said Cathleen would sleep through it if he didn’t try to be quiet,” Maggie remarked in an amused tone as they walked to their bedroom together. At his silence, she lifted her gaze and probed his face. “Chase, surely you’re not angry with Ty for coming home drunk, are you?”
He opened the door to their bedroom and let her pass, his cool eyes briefly meeting hers. “Are you happy to know your son is drunk and passed out in his bed?” he countered.
“I’m not happy about it.” It seemed a ridiculous question to Maggie. “But it doesn’t upset me either.” With a ripple of impatience, she untied the knotted belt of her robe. “You’re too hard on Ty. You always expect too much from him. Let him be young and enjoy himself while he can.”
“It’s always my fault, isn’t it?” Chase gave her a look that was grim and calm. “I’m always too hard on him, but you’re never too soft.”
“I’m not soft. I simply understand—”
“And I don’t?” he challenged.
“I never said that,” Maggie denied and swung away from him, hating this quarreling. “You have to stop trying to mold him into your way of thinking.”
There was a long silence, and Maggie waited for the explosion of angry words—the oft-repeated argument over their son. Instead, there came a loud breath, indrawn and released in a heavy sigh. Chase wadded up his shirt and threw it in a corner.
“We can’t talk about this without arguing, can we, Maggie?” He sounded so tired and weary. When she turned to look at him, Chase was watching her, the width of the room separating them. “We’re both so damned sure we’re right.”
“I guess so.” Unconsciously holding her breath, she waited for him to take that first step that would send her into his arms. She waited, but he didn’t take it.
The moment of conciliation was lost, both of them bound by pride. “We’d better get some sleep.” Chase finally broke apart the gaze and moved toward his side of the bed.
The bedsheets felt cold when Maggie slipped between them, too far away from Chase’s body to be warmed by it. She ached inside, gnawed by the worry that Chase had offered her a compromise and she hadn’t recognized it.
Summer passed quickly into September and Ty’s last year at college. Only one clear memory of that night went with him—the scene with his father and Sally Brogan. The knowledge created an awkwardness in his relationship with both of his parents. When it came time to leave for college, he was glad to go.
After he arrived at the fraternity house, Ty made a desultory stab at unpacking before the anticipation of seeing Tara again got the better of him and he headed out of the room to the telephone. The hall was crowded with returning members, carting in luggage, tennis rackets, golf clubs, radios, and assorted vital items. He was constantly waylaid by arriving friends, shouting greetings and demanding to know how the hell he was.
“Hey, Ty!” He was nearly to the phone when he was hailed by another voice. He swung around with a trace of impatience, then broke into a smile when he recognized Jack Springer, who had become his closest friend at the university. “I was just on my way to look you up. Sappy told me you got in this afternoon.”
“Yeah. Haven’t even finished unpacking,” Ty admitted, unconsciously edging closer to the phone. “How was your summer?”
“Hot and long, as usual.” Springer’s father owned a ranch in hill country outside of Austin. Ty had spent some weekends on it when Tara was otherwise engaged. It was a good-sized spread, a combination of a breeding operation and a game preserve, but it would have taken up only a corner of the Triple C. “Let’s you and I clear outa here, grab us a couple of long necks and a pizza, and make a night of it.”
“It sounds okay to me, but there’s a call I gotta make first. I might be tied up.” Ty hoped he was. It had been too long since he’d seen Tara.
A knowing look stole into the expression of the slimly built man. “Can’t even finish unpacking before you phone a certain lady, huh?”
“Something like that.” Ty grinned.
“If you’re calling who I think you are, let me spare you a rejection. She’s busy tonight,” Jack informed him.
His statement made the smile fade on Ty’s face. “How can you be so sure about that?”
“’Cause there’s some big dinner going on tonight at the governor’s mansion.”
