her,
even for a vacation affair. He was too military, too conservative,
too autocratic, and too fascinating. She had done the right thing
by staying in control of the situation.
Hours later at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport she collected her
bags and made her way out to the parking lot, where the Alfa Romeo
waited with a coat of Texas dust on its sleek white surface.
Moments later she sat behind the wheel and loosened the reins. The
car plunged forward into the night as if it were the white
stallion of her adolescent fantasies.
Matt would probably have been amused.
He would probably also have found it humorous three days later
when the silver paint started flaking off the necklace he had
warned her wasn't really a bargain.
----
Chapter
Four
The phone rang at three in the morning. Calls that demanded a
drastic change in your life always came at that hour of the
morning, Matt decided as he lunged blindly across the bed to grab
the receiver. He should have taken the thing off the hook. For
some reason he had always assumed that the idiosyncrasies of the
Mexican phone system would protect him from those kinds of calls.
"If this is you, Coyne, I can give you my answer right now. It's
no. I never say yes to anything at this hour of the morning."
"Matt? This is Ginny. How can you stand to live in a place
without a decent phone system? Do you realize how long I've been
trying to get hold of you? Where have you been?"
Matt closed his eyes and dropped back against the crumpled
pillow. He considered the question and decided to answer.
"Out."
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then
Ginny drawled in weary disgust, "Same old Matt. Same old answer."
"What do you want, Ginny?"
"Help," she retorted succinctly.
Matt didn't move, but he was suddenly very wide awake. He stared
intently at the shadows on the ceiling. "Is Brad all right?" he
asked tautly.
"No, he is not all right. He's ruining my life, as a matter of
fact. I've had it, Matt. You're going to have to do something.
He's your son." Ginny didn't bother to hide the anger. "My God, is
he your son. More so every day. I won't let him ruin my marriage.
I waited until the end of school, but I can't wait any longer.
Summer vacation starts tomorrow. You'll have to come get him.
Maybe a summer spent with you will let him see that his father is
not some comic-book combination of General Patton and the Lone
Ranger."
"The summer?" Matt sat up slowly, shoving aside the sheet. "You
want me to take him for the summer? I thought you always said I'd
be a bad influence on him."
"You've already influenced him," Ginny muttered with suppressed
violence. "So much so that I just can't handle him anymore. He's
causing nothing but trouble between Paul and me, and I simply
won't let him ruin my life. I've tried to handle it in a normal,
civilized fashion. God knows how many hours I've spent with school
counselors and guidance people. I even tried to get him into group
therapy, but—"
"Therapy!"
"Yes, therapy! What's the matter, Matt? Don't you like the fact
that your only son is in need of professional help?"
"I hardly qualify as professional help," Matt shot back roughly.
"You always cast me more in the role of financial help. Remember
the house, the cars, the bank account, the cash settlement that
wiped me out? And then there are all those contributions you've
received from my parents that are supposed to go to Brad's college
fund."
Ginny ignored that. "I want you to come and take him, Matt. I
want some time away from him before he drives me crazy. Before he
drives Paul crazy."
Unspoken was the rest of the sentence, but Matt could fill it in
for himself. The essence of it was simple: If Paul Martin decided
he'd had enough of playing father to someone else's difficult kid,
he would leave, taking the security of his oil-based money and his
country-club
even for a vacation affair. He was too military, too conservative,
too autocratic, and too fascinating. She had done the right thing
by staying in control of the situation.
Hours later at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport she collected her
bags and made her way out to the parking lot, where the Alfa Romeo
waited with a coat of Texas dust on its sleek white surface.
Moments later she sat behind the wheel and loosened the reins. The
car plunged forward into the night as if it were the white
stallion of her adolescent fantasies.
Matt would probably have been amused.
He would probably also have found it humorous three days later
when the silver paint started flaking off the necklace he had
warned her wasn't really a bargain.
----
Chapter
Four
The phone rang at three in the morning. Calls that demanded a
drastic change in your life always came at that hour of the
morning, Matt decided as he lunged blindly across the bed to grab
the receiver. He should have taken the thing off the hook. For
some reason he had always assumed that the idiosyncrasies of the
Mexican phone system would protect him from those kinds of calls.
"If this is you, Coyne, I can give you my answer right now. It's
no. I never say yes to anything at this hour of the morning."
"Matt? This is Ginny. How can you stand to live in a place
without a decent phone system? Do you realize how long I've been
trying to get hold of you? Where have you been?"
Matt closed his eyes and dropped back against the crumpled
pillow. He considered the question and decided to answer.
"Out."
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then
Ginny drawled in weary disgust, "Same old Matt. Same old answer."
"What do you want, Ginny?"
"Help," she retorted succinctly.
Matt didn't move, but he was suddenly very wide awake. He stared
intently at the shadows on the ceiling. "Is Brad all right?" he
asked tautly.
"No, he is not all right. He's ruining my life, as a matter of
fact. I've had it, Matt. You're going to have to do something.
He's your son." Ginny didn't bother to hide the anger. "My God, is
he your son. More so every day. I won't let him ruin my marriage.
I waited until the end of school, but I can't wait any longer.
Summer vacation starts tomorrow. You'll have to come get him.
Maybe a summer spent with you will let him see that his father is
not some comic-book combination of General Patton and the Lone
Ranger."
"The summer?" Matt sat up slowly, shoving aside the sheet. "You
want me to take him for the summer? I thought you always said I'd
be a bad influence on him."
"You've already influenced him," Ginny muttered with suppressed
violence. "So much so that I just can't handle him anymore. He's
causing nothing but trouble between Paul and me, and I simply
won't let him ruin my life. I've tried to handle it in a normal,
civilized fashion. God knows how many hours I've spent with school
counselors and guidance people. I even tried to get him into group
therapy, but—"
"Therapy!"
"Yes, therapy! What's the matter, Matt? Don't you like the fact
that your only son is in need of professional help?"
"I hardly qualify as professional help," Matt shot back roughly.
"You always cast me more in the role of financial help. Remember
the house, the cars, the bank account, the cash settlement that
wiped me out? And then there are all those contributions you've
received from my parents that are supposed to go to Brad's college
fund."
Ginny ignored that. "I want you to come and take him, Matt. I
want some time away from him before he drives me crazy. Before he
drives Paul crazy."
Unspoken was the rest of the sentence, but Matt could fill it in
for himself. The essence of it was simple: If Paul Martin decided
he'd had enough of playing father to someone else's difficult kid,
he would leave, taking the security of his oil-based money and his
country-club
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