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EAST TEXAS, 1978
There it was. The house on the hill.
Blair slowed, coasting to a stop on her shiny red bicycle, wisps of hair escaping from her two thick braids to stick like glue to her dampened face. It was a warm, early-spring day, and all around her, the trees were as green and lush as the fields and pastures, with wildflowers sprouting up everywhere. And suddenly, Blair was afraid.
What had she been thinking of, to ride her bike all the way out here just so she could see Rick's house?
If her grandmother found out she would probably be grounded for an entire week.
Blair stared up the hill, unable to look away, her heart racing, wishing she were inside that house, which to her seemed as imposing and remote as a storybook castle. There was a dirt driveway in front of her, winding up to the house through a series of fenced-in pastures. Behind Blair, most of the land was wooded, although Grandma said Rick owned the land as far as an eyeball could see. Ahead and to Blair's right a couple of old, swaybacked horses grazed. Blair didn't notice them. She stood with the April sunshine bathing her back and bare arms, wondering what it must be like to live there, wishing desperately that Rick had married her mother so that the three of them could be living up there on that hill together.
And the truth was, the last time she had seen the house, it had been from the road, passing by in Grandma's 1965 Ford pickup with the souped-up 360 engine, with Dana at the wheel, complaining about the car and the summer heat. Dana liked to drive fast, and they'd sped by so quickly that Blair had hardly glimpsed the huge stone ranch house sitting on top of the hill, lording it over the surrounding fields and pastures like a king over his subjects. But then, Dana was always moving, her life an endless series of motions-- everything she did was fast, fast, and faster still.
Blair didn't want to think about her mother now. She wanted to imagine what it was like to live in that house with Rick. She bit her lip as she gazed at the house shimmering white and bright in the sun, but as hard as she tried, she just couldn't imagine coming home from school every day to the ranch. She couldn't imagine being on that front porch when Rick's helicopter settled down on the landing pad behind the house as he returned from his office in Dallas.
Blair was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't hear the school bus until it was too late to jump on her bike and ride away. Suddenly the big yellow bus appeared on the road beside her, blocking her path. Blair was frozen, gripping the handlebars of her shiny new bike, which Rick had given her for her last birthday, stopping by Grandma's to do so. Her hands were clammy.
The door had opened; a blond girl came down the steps in a beautiful short white sundress and red sandals, her hair tied back in a red ribbon. Four years older than Blair, she carried an armful of books-- and she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her.
Blair stared back.
The bus door closed and the school bus pulled back onto the road and drove off. "What are you doing here?" the blond girl asked rather curtly. Her eyes were blue-- bluer even than the Texas sky that day.
Blair bit her lip, a bad habit Grandma was always trying to correct. "I was taking my new bike for a ride," she half lied.
The girl stared. "I don't believe you," she said. She turned her back on Blair, went to the open gates that closed over the drive, and picked up a bike Blair hadn't noticed until then. It was vivid pink, and as shiny as Blair's. But unlike Blair's, it was a slim, sleek English bike with gears and handbrakes; Blair's American-made bike suddenly seemed stout and babyish in comparison. Blair watched her sister get on the bike and peddle up the rive without even glancing back over her shoulder.
Suddenly a sadness Blair couldn't identify came over her. It was so heavy, like a big old wool comforter that just couldn't be kicked off in the middle of the night. She slowly picked up her bike, wondering why Faith and her mother livd with Rick up there on the hill, wondering why she and Dana lived with Grandma in town. Confusion overcame her, not for the first time. It just made no sense. How come Rick never married Dana? How could Rick have two daughters, but one wife? Didn't a man and a lady have to be married to have children in the first place? That was what Grandma always said.
Blair began the trip home, riding far more slowly than she had when she had begun her journey, still sad and even sorry that she had come. Worse, she had misjudged the distance to Rick's, because by the time she was at the halfway point on the highway at old man Potter's garage, she realized by looking at the sun in the sky that it was already suppertime-- which was five-thirty-- and she was going to be late. Grandma would be so angry and Blair couldn't even imagine it.
When Blair finally turned into her street, the first thing she saw was a blue station wagon with the words "Ron's Limousine Service" on it's doors sitting in the drive of her grandma's house. Blair suddenly slowed pedaling, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. As she turned into the drive and slipped off the bike, she saw two beat-up suitcases on the front porch and a Samsonite vanity case. Her heart careened, flipping wildly, and Blair froze.
The screen door swung open and Grandma rushed out. "Blair! Where have you been!" she cried, hurrying down the steps. "Oh, God, Richie said he saw you riding your bike on Cedar Avenue. Where did you go? I've been driving all over town looking for you."
Blair hung her head, as her grandma paused before her, gripping her shoulders and then crushing her in an embrace. She was a tall, lean, gray-haired woman in a housedress. "I'm sorry," Blair mumbled against her grandmother's chest. "I went to see Rick's house."
Blair felt Grandma stiffen, as she released her, Blair looked up. "Now, why on earth did you ever do such a thing?" Grandma asked, no longer shouting and no longer scolding, her gaze direct but warm and questioning.
"I don't know," Blair whispered as the screen door swung open and shut again.
Blair and her grandmother both turned as the most beautiful woman in the world stepped onto the porch. She had waist-length pitch-black hair and a perfect slim body with just enough curves; but it was her face that was so arresting. Her cheekbones were high, her skin tawny, her eyes dark, her brows black and slashing. Dana was wearing skin-tight jeans, red lizard cowboy boots, and a very small white halter top. Her long dark hair was parted arrow-straight down the middle. She carried a fringed buckskin jacket over one arm and wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup. She didn't have to. "I'm going to miss my flight," she cried, rushing down the steps.
She saw Blair and stopped. "Blair!" she said, surprised. "I thought you were out."
Blair's heart was pounding so hard now that it hurt. She wanted to nod, but she couldn't seem to move her head.
Well, at least I get to say good-bye." But even as Dana was talking to her daughter, she was looking at the cab as the tall, lanky bearded driver got out. It was impossible to miss the way he eyed Dana, but then, men always looked at her that way. And Dana was already asking him to get her bags, making sure he understood that all three of them were going with her to the county airport.
Blair couldn't even swallow, because there was this huge lump in her chest or throat or somewhere that felt as if it were choking her. She didn't feel as if she were breathing, either, and all in all, she felt sick.
"My flight leaves at seven, damn, " Dana said. And then she snapped, "Oh, Mom, stop looking at me that way!"
Blair glanced from her gorgeous mother to her grandmother and saw that Grandma's face was pinched with disapproval and anger. "Have a pleasant trip, " Grandma said, clearly not meaning it. She stepped closer to Blair, putting her arm around her.
"The two of you make me crazy!" Dana said with exasperation. "All that stone-faced disapproval! Loosen up! Blair, I'll call you soon and you can come and visit. Would you like that?"
The pounding of her heart was deafening. Blair wanted to speak. She desperately wanted to say yes, because there was nothing she wanted more than to visit Dana in Los Angeles, but she couldn't get the words out, she was frozen, unable even to move.
Dana patted her head and rushed to the cab, jumping in. "As fast as you can," she told the driver. As the pale blue wagon drove away, Dana waved, once. Her eyes were bright with excitement.
Blair watched it turn left on Cedar Avenue, and stared until she could no longer see it.
"Blair," Grandma said with false cheer, "I've made your very favorite supper for tonight. Fried chicken, my dear, with fried bananas-- and I thought we'd go to Dairy Queen afterward for a big hot fudge sundae. What do you think?"
Blair faced her grandmother. "I'm not really hungry," she said.
Grandma's smile vanished. She looked close to tears. "Oh, dear." She bent over, brushing hair off Blair's forehead, stroking her cheek. "We have to talk, Blair. Come, let's go out back and sit down on the swing for a bit."
Blair couldn't even form a smile. "It's okay. I know she's not coming back."
Grandma didn't move.
I'm going to put my bike away now," Blair said, and she picked up the bike, which had somehow fallen over, and walked it slowly around the house to the shed that was out back. | 
