“When I die.”
“No.You deserve more.Daddy would have wanted more for you.”
“He hated me.”
“He loved you.”
“I betrayed him.”
Pam tried to remember all the things Bob had said.“You betrayed him when you were feeling weak and unhappy, but you had help.You didn’t do it alone.If John hadn’t been there luring you on, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Patricia dropped her eyes to her lap, where her hands lay limply.She stared at them for a long time, although Pam doubted she saw much.Tears were trickling down her cheeks.
“You hate me, too,” she whispered finally.
“I love you.”
“You hate me.”
“If I hated you, would I be coming here to visit this way?”
“You feel you have to.”
“Iwantto.”
“But I have nothing to offer.”
“You’re my mother.You gave me life.Isn’t that enough?”
“I should have given you more.”
“But it’s over.You can’t go back.Only ahead.”
“I can’t go ahead,” Patricia wailed.
Pam felt utterly helpless.She didn’t know what to say or do, since what she had done clearly wasn’t right.Acting on nothing more than her own need, she took Patricia’s hand and brought it to her cheek.“Someday,” she said, pausing to swallow the knot in her throat, “someday you will.Someday you’ll leave here and come home where you belong.Someday.You will.”
Patricia gave another frantic little shake of her head, from which she went right into a nod.Then, as though the combination of the two gestures had short-circuited her mind, she seemed to wind down, and sank deeper into her chair and grew silent.
Pam continued to hold her hand for a time before kissing it, replacing it in her lap, and standing.“I’ll be back in a few days,” she said softly.
At the door, she looked back.The image struck her then of the frail, wheelchair-bound woman whose shrunken legs, bowed head, and hollow eyes reeked of the sadness of one living a life of self-inflicted punishment.
In that instant, Pam began to understand the depth of her mother’s suffering.In the next instant, forgiveness took root.And in the instant after that, all the anger that might have been channeled toward Patricia was redirected toward John.
One week later, Pam flew to New York.Officially, she was there to meet with a client who wanted to commission several pieces of jewelry.Unofficially—and covertly—she was meeting with Cutter.A single night in Manhattan was all he had between ten days in Texas anda week in Paris, and while she might have preferred to pick a more leisurely time, what she had to discuss with him couldn’t wait.
Her client was staying at the Lowell Hotel.Cutter had said that he’d meet her at the Pembroke Room at four for high tea, and Pam appreciated the whimsy.It was Cutter the miner, at his tongue-in-cheek best.
Concluding her meeting early, she reached the Pembroke Room well before him.So she settled into the French period furniture and anticipated his arrival with growing excitement.Even then, she couldn’t help but catch her breath when he came into sight.He was wearing a black silk shirt, gray pleated trousers, a loose-fitting tweed jacket, and imported loafers without socks.His immaculately cut hair was sensuously mussed.His face was lightly tanned, his jaw and upper lip lightly shadowed.There was a swagger in his step and a gleam in his eye.He looked spectacular.
“Hi, babe,” he whispered, sliding onto the loveseat and kissing her neck.His grin was crooked.
“Hi,” she whispered back.She put her fingers to his lips and skimmed their lean planes.“Did you plan that entrance?”
“What entrance?”His eyes took in each of her features.
“The one you just made.”
