On The Texas Border

“But I’m right, ain’t I?” Mick said gleefully. “Take the woman to bed and get her out of your system. That will solve the problem, and you’ll definitely be in a better mood.”

Jonas stood, laid some bills on the table, picked up his hat and walked out. Mick was wrong, he told himself. He didn’t want to take Abigail Duncan to bed.

Liar! resounded a voice in his head. Okay, she was attractive with her blond hair, green eyes and knockout body, he admitted, but she was a career woman with a divorce behind her. He didn’t need someone like that. His life was messed up enough the way it was.

On the way back to the office, Jonas decided Mick was out of his mind. He also decided he would stay out of Ms. Duncan’s life. He’d warned her. Now she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

CHAPTER TWO

THE RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE woke Abby at two in the morning. She groped for the receiver and brushed hair out of her eyes at the same time. “Hello,” she mumbled.

“Ms. Abigail Duncan?”

“Yes.”

“This is Hope Medical Center. Mr. Simon Brewster has had a heart attack, and he’s asking for you.”

Abby scooted into a sitting position. “Is he all right?”

“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking, and he wants to see you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I’ve just been instructed to call you.”

“Oh.” Mr. Brewster wanted to see her. She wasn’t part of his family. Maybe it had something to do with the memoirs.

“Ms. Duncan?”

“Yes.”

“Are you coming?”

“I…uh…” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’ll be right there.”

Abby hung up the phone wondering if she’d made the right decision. Her mother wouldn’t like this, but the man was probably dying. Abby had to see him. She dressed hurriedly in jeans and a knit top. Luckily the phone hadn’t woken Gail. Abby made her way out the back door and to her car. Within minutes she was parking in front of the small hospital.

Mr. Brewster was in ICU, and Abby was shown into a waiting area. Three people were sitting in the small room. Abby recognized them immediately. They were Mr. Brewster’s so-called family. Edna Kline, tall and heavyset, was Mr. Brewster’s sister-in-law. His wife’s sister. She had been at Mr. Brewster’s house several times while Abby was working on the memoirs. Edna always had her son, Jules, in tow. In his fifties, Jules was short and thin, very unlike his mother. He didn’t seem to have a job. Abby knew that Mr. Brewster supported them.

The other person was Darby, a cousin who turned up when he needed money. He was in his sixties and traveled a lot…mostly at Mr. Brewster’s expense.

“What are you doing here?” Edna asked cattily, her ample bosom heaving as she got to her feet.

“Mr. Brewster asked to see me,” Abby answered, feeling as if it was none of Edna’s business.

“Whatever for?” Darby asked. “You’re just someone who works for him.”

As he walked closer, she got a whiff of his breath. The man had been drinking.

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Brewster,” she replied evenly.

“Have you got your eye on Uncle Simon’s money?” Jules asked nastily.

Before Abby could respond, Edna moved close to her. “Let me tell you something, missy. Take your little notepad and tape recorder and get the hell away from Simon.”

“Ms. Duncan,” a nurse called from the doorway. “Mr. Brewster will see you now.”

“What?” Edna choked. “We’ve been waiting much longer than she has.”

The nurse stepped into the room. “Mr. Brewster asked that you all go home. He only wants to see Ms. Duncan.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Edna hissed. “We’re his family.” She pointed at Abby. “She’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “Those are Mr. Brewster’s wishes.”

“Well, I never.” Edna expelled a long breath and sank heavily into a chair.

Abby followed the nurse out the door, but not before she heard Jules say, “We have to put a stop to this.”

Oh God, Abby thought. She didn’t want to be here and she was certainly no threat to them.

The nurse showed her into a darkened room. Mr. Brewster lay in the bed, hooked to machines and oxygen. His skin was pale, his breathing shallow.

“Come in, Abigail.”

His voice sounded strong enough. She stepped closer to the bed. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I’m glad you came.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

His fatigued brown eyes stared at her. “Don’t look so scared, Abigail. I’m not dead yet.”

“I…I…” She wasn’t scared, but words wouldn’t come. The room, the machines and the hospital reminded her of her father’s last days. He’d been in excruciating pain and his heart had been filled with sorrow—mostly caused by this man.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” His voice penetrated her troubled thoughts.

She found her voice. “If it’s about the memoirs—”

He stopped her. “No, it isn’t.”

Abby swallowed. “What is it, then?”

He took a ragged breath. “Many years ago I had an affair with a Mexican girl who worked in my house.”

Abby was taken aback by the statement. She had expected to hear a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them. She forced herself to listen.

“She had a child, a girl, whom I refused to acknowledge as my daughter. She left and returned to Mexico with the baby. I don’t deserve anything from them, but I have to see my daughter’s face before I die.”