by Lisa Jackson
“To your mother.”
“Yes, and to my idea of what my family was.” Bliss sighed. “So I fought it for a while, decided I couldn’t do anything and then, of course, I met Brynnie.”
Tiffany walked to the window and stared through the panes to the front porch. “And let me guess how this little fairy tale ends—you fell in love with her, too, and now we’re supposed to all be one big happy family.”
“Wrong. I thought I’d hate my father’s mistress on sight. And I decided I could live with that. You know, be outwardly civil while inwardly cold. But—and I wouldn’t want my mother, if she were alive, to hear this—Brynnie’s a hard person to hate.”
Tiffany didn’t respond, just ran a finger along the windowpane as she stared outside.
“So-o-o, I’m trying to put all my prejudices away if I can. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s time to look forward, not backward. But if you want to know the truth, I’m having a rough time with all of it, okay? It’s not easy, but there it is.” She lifted a palm.
“There are always choices,” Tiffany argued, though she didn’t elaborate and Bliss guessed that she was talking about her own private problems.
“Dad didn’t give you many.”
Tiffany paled, then said, “No, he didn’t. And you probably want to know how I felt about it. Well, I felt rotten. Once Mom came clean and told me the truth, I was sick to think that he didn’t love me enough to claim me.”
Bliss was horrified. “That’s not what it was like. Tiffany, you’ve got to understand that—”
“What?” Tiffany said hotly, then appeared to bite back another sarcastic remark and sighed audibly. “Look, it’s not your fault, but I blamed you. When I finally wanted to know more about my ‘dad’—if that’s what you could call him—I asked around about John. It turns out my grandmother had a wealth of information and was more than happy to let me know every intimate detail of my father’s life. That’s when I found out about you and discovered that you had this privileged life up in Seattle—that you had Dad—so I made the mistake of calling you ‘the princess’ in front of my son.”
Her cheeks colored as she explained. “You seemed to have everything—anything a daughter could ever want. You and your mom had my father’s name and his money and everything while my mother struggled, never married and worked two jobs just to raise me. Even though my grandmother was and still is supportive, it was hard. Real hard.” Tiffany turned back from the window and offered an unhappy smile. “Obviously, coming here was a mistake. I’m not going to your dad’s wedding and I’m not going to act like the past didn’t happen, okay? I can’t.”
She turned and Bliss caught hold of her arm. “I understand your frustration.”
“I doubt it.”
“Okay, so maybe I can’t. But I think we should try to get to know each other.”
Tiffany silently appraised her. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you ‘princess.’ Pollyanna would have been more appropriate.”
“Maybe so, but no matter what happens,” Bliss said, unable to hold her tongue, “I’m not going to be bitter about it or carry a huge chip on my shoulder.”
Tiffany shook her head. “Good for you, Bliss.”
“Would it be so terrible to get to know each other?” Bliss asked and wondered why it was suddenly so important. So what if Tiffany didn’t want to have anything to do with her? She’d lived all her life not knowing she had a half sister, so why push it?
Tiffany’s eyes were cold as ice. “I just don’t know if there’s any reason to pursue this. I’m not going to make any bones about not liking your father. And trust me, I’ll never think of him as mine, so, as for you, all that I feel toward you right now is idle curiosity.”
“But you came over here.”
She shook her head. “I guess I was feeling guilty, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. The thing is that even though I don’t care about John Cawthorne, I wouldn’t want him to suffer, so I’m glad to hear that he’s recovering. Other than that, I don’t have much to say.”
Bliss dropped her hand and Tiffany left.
Why Bliss felt a sense of loss, she didn’t understand. As far as she was concerned, Tiffany Santini had never been her sister and never would be. Tiffany had decided.
* * *
Brynnie’s house was situated two blocks from the park and painted a faded shade of salmon. It had once been a small cottage but had been expanded over the years to accommodate various husbands and additional children. A wing from the kitchen shot into the backyard, the attic had been turned into a bedroom/loft and the garage had been converted into an apartment attached to the house by an open breezeway. A few petunias splashed color from barrels placed by the front door, where the torn mesh of the screen needed replacing. Three cats lazed on a cracked driveway.
As Bliss knocked on the door, she heard her father’s voice through the screen. “I told you, this isn’t happening—”
“Come in—the door’s open,” Brynnie yelled over John’s deeper, angry voice.
“I don’t care what any damned doctor says, I’m not lyin’ around here twiddlin’ my fingers and toes.” John Cawthorne was seated on a plaid couch and pulling on a boot. His face was red, his jaw set, and Bliss knew from experience that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “Hi, kiddo,” he said as Bliss entered, then went right on ranting at Brynnie.
“I have to check with the accountant about my insurance payments and the foreman of the ranch about how much feed we’ll need this winter. Bill Crosswhite’s got a bull I might want to buy or use, and I’d like to see the animal myself. Then there’s the properties up in Seattle—the house is up for sale and the boat. I’ve got two empty warehouses that someone wants to convert to apartments and…” His voice trailed off as he realized both women were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“And what about the wedding?” Brynnie asked. “Are you gonna be able to squeeze that in?”
“Of course, but—”
“We’re supposed to talk to the preacher this afternoon.”
“The preacher. Right.” John rubbed the side of his face and scratched at the silver stubble on his jaw. Rather than address the subject, he asked Bliss, “How’re you doing out at the ranch all alone?”
“I’m not really alone, Dad. You’ve got workers.”
He snorted. “Such as they are.”
“Well, they’re keeping things in line and Mason has been by a couple of times.”
“Great,” her father grumbled. “He’s probably gonna change his mind again and find a way to finagle me and keep the damned place.” He shot Brynnie a damning glance. “Or has he been hanging around because of you?” He eyed his daughter and reached for his other boot.
“I don’t think all of Mason’s motives are evil,” she said with a smile.
“Is that so? Listen, Blissie, don’t defend that bastard to me. He’s even gone so far to work a deal with Brynnie behind my back. Helluva guy, that Lafferty.”
Brynnie, who had been reading her horoscope in the newspaper, said, “That was my fault, John Cawthorne, and you know it. Now Mason’s trying to make amends and the least you could do is be big enough to see it.” Obviously irritated, she snapped the paper, then dropped it onto a coffee table already laden with empty glasses, ashtrays, magazines and books of matches.
John was having none of it. “That bastard hurt my baby.”
And so have you, Dad, she thought silently. With all of your lies.
“Come on, let’s not fight,” Brynnie said to John. “I don’t know why you’re so darned ornery today. You know you’re not supposed to be getting all riled up. Just lie back down, switch on the television and wait for Reverend Jones.”
“I just can’t stand lyin’ around doin’ nothin’.”
“The doctor said that if you take it easy, you can move back to the ranch soon—”
“The doctor can shove it for all I care. Blast it all, anyway.” He yanked on his boo
t, rolled to his feet and stood without so much as swaying. If nothing else, John Cawthorne was blessed with more than his share of grit and willpower.
Bliss cleared her throat. “I thought you should know that Tiffany stopped by. She was looking for you, but when I told her you were here, she decided she didn’t want to come looking for you.”
John’s face softened. “Well, I’ll be.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Dad. She wasn’t all that friendly.”
“But she tried.”
“Yeah.” Bliss nodded and didn’t bring up the fact that she and her elder half sister had nearly had a shouting match. She’d said enough. Whatever happened next was between Tiffany and John.
“See there?” Brynnie sniffed. “I’ve always told you there is a God and He’s watching over you.”
So who was watching over Mom? Bliss wondered, when Margaret Cawthorne lay dying and her husband, though seemingly concerned, was involved with another woman. She gave herself a quick mental shake. She had to quit thinking in those terms. Her mother, rest her soul, was gone. Yes, her father had been unfaithful, less than true and a liar, but that was all in the past. Now he was marrying a woman whom Bliss couldn’t find it in her heart to hate. As she’d told Tiffany, she couldn’t dwell on the sins of years gone by but had to focus ahead, on the future. With her father.
And with Mason.
She pushed that wayward thought aside. Mason and she were having an affair—that much was true. And she knew that she loved him, but never had he said he loved her; never had she felt that he cared for her as she did for him.
Once again, she’d let him play her for a fool.
But not for long.
As soon as John and Brynnie were married, she was moving back to Seattle.
What was the old saying, something like it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
Bliss wasn’t convinced.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“This time, Mason, you’ve really flipped!” Patty Lafferty hoisted one of her bags into the back of his truck. Overhead, a jet taking off from the airport roared upward into the cloudy heavens. “Do you really think I was somehow involved with Uncle—if that’s what you’d call him—Isaac’s disappearance?”
“You took off around the same time.”
“Give me a break.” Eyes as gold as his own sparked angrily. “So what?” She glared at her brother as they stood toe to toe in the airport parking lot. “You don’t believe me.”
“You’ve lied before.”
“Not about something like this! Oh, Mason, come on!”
He frowned at her and wished he could believe her, but she’d been in more scrapes than he cared to count.
“Swear to God!” She licked two fingers and held them up beside her head as proof of her integrity and innocence. “Scout’s honor.”
He snorted.
“Oh, for the love of God, Mason, think about it. Why would I help Isaac disappear?”
“You tell me.”
Another jet screamed down the runway.
“I can’t!” She threw her hands up in the air. The wind caught the long red-blond strands of her hair, tossing them in front of her face. “Why won’t you trust me?”
“Past history.”
“I just went to Mexico for a while.” She climbed into the cab of the truck and played with the frayed hole in the knee of a disreputable pair of jeans.
“Maybe you’d like to tell me why?”
“Maybe not. It’s none of your business.” Her jaw was set and she slid a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t do anything illegal, okay? I just needed to get away for a while. Fun and sun, that’s all.”
“And you couldn’t call?”
“I didn’t want to. Whether you know it or not, Mason, you’re not my keeper.” She fished into her purse, pulled out a tube of pale pink lipstick and applied it without benefit of a mirror. “And don’t give me any guff about a promise to Mom, okay? It doesn’t wash anymore. I’m way too grown-up to have an older brother breathing down my neck.” She slipped the cap onto her lipstick tube and tossed it back into the messy interior of her bag.
Mason, starting the engine, was still suspicious.
“You know, Mason, you should lighten up.” She found a decorative elastic band, scraped back her hair and snapped the band into place. “You’re starting to imagine things.”
He jammed the truck into gear and drove through the parked cars. Sunlight glinted off windshields and fenders, while people with bags of every sort and size clustered in knots at stations for the shuttle. Was he imagining things? He didn’t think so. He cared about his sister even though she’d given him nothing but grief ever since he could remember.
“You know, Patty,” he said as he slowed to pay for his short stay in the parking lot. He handed the attendant in the booth a ten-dollar bill and waited for change. “It wouldn’t hurt you to settle down.”
She laughed as the gate opened and he drove through. “Oh, yeah, what’s this? You know the old saying, the pot calling the kettle black or some such hogwash. You could take some of that advice yourself.”
He slid his sister a knowing glance. “How did Jarrod find you?”
At the mention of Jarrod Smith’s name, Patty’s expression changed. She avoided Mason’s eyes. “You know your old friend. He could find a black cat in a dark room on a moonless night.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t come back with you.”
Patty lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t invite him,” she said and reached into her bag for a pack of gum. She made a big show of unwrapping a stick before plopping it into her mouth. “I think he said he’d be back in a few days, in time for his mother’s wedding. I didn’t really pay a lot of attention. He made sure I got on the flight and I took off.”
She seemed to take sudden interest in the other cars on the freeway as Mason melded his truck into the flow of traffic, then slid lower in the seat, as if she intended to get a little shut-eye. “Jarrod did tell me that you were seeing Bliss Cawthorne again,” she said.
“She’s back in town.”
“Is that good news or bad?”
Definitely good, he thought, but kept his feelings to himself. He knew Patty was just trying to distract him and, damn it, her ploy worked. Now that his sister was safe and, for the moment, out of trouble, he could concentrate on other things. Terri was coming around about Dee Dee, and that left Bliss.
Bliss.
What in the world was he going to do with her?
Ask her to marry you, that’s what. You can’t take a chance on losing her again.
His jaw slid to one side and he adjusted the air conditioner to lower the temperature in the cab. He’d struggled with his feelings for over a week. She was the one woman he’d sworn to avoid and now he couldn’t get enough of her. Making love to her was pure heaven. Holding her close at night was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life. And she’d be leaving soon. John and Brynnie’s wedding was scheduled for the end of next week. Then Bliss was planning to return to Seattle.
That thought settled on him like lead. It was time to come clean. As soon as he’d deposited Patty at her apartment, he’d have it out with old man Cawthorne.
* * *
Bliss gave Fire Cracker her head and felt the hot summer air stream through her hair as the game little mare raced over the dry stubble of the field. The sky was on fire, deep shades of magenta and gold blazing over the western hills, as the sun set in a splash of brilliance.
It was a glorious evening and Bliss felt a rush of adrenaline as Fire Cracker’s hooves thundered over the dry acres. Cattle and horses dotted the hillsides, and shadows grew long at the base of trees. How could she ever leave? In the past few weeks she’d grown to love this ranch, just as her father did. And despite all her talk to the contrary, she’d fallen in love with Mason.
Not that he loved her.
>
She kneed Fire Cracker and the mare leaped over a dry streambed, sailing through the air and landing with a bone-jarring thud on the other side. A field mouse scurried for cover. Birds flew and scattered.
Bliss would be returning to Seattle in a few days, as soon as her father was married and off on his honeymoon. At that thought her heart twisted. She would miss this place—miss the freedom, the quiet nights, the smell of leather and horses, her father’s grumblings and the prospect of getting to know her half sisters. But most of all, she’d miss Mason.
“Idiot,” she muttered as the barn, stables and outbuildings came into sight.
She pulled up on the reins and caught her breath as the mare slowed to a walk at the paddock near the stables. Dirty but exhilarated, Bliss climbed down from the saddle and walked Fire Cracker into the darkened interior.
She spent the next forty-five minutes cooling the horse down, then brushing her sleek hide before offering a measure of oats and bucket of water. “You know,” she admitted, scratching the mare between her ears and avoiding being swatted by the sorrel’s tail, “I’m going to miss you, too.”
She’d considered moving down here. Lord knew her father was doing his best to promote it. Now that he’d moved back to the ranch and was feeling better, he’d thought of every bribe imaginable to keep her in Bittersweet. Not only had he given her the horse, he’d promised her land, offered her a job, suggested her sisters needed her; but she’d been undeterred. Her job, her friends, her entire life was in Seattle.
But Mason was here. Her soul darkened a bit. She loved him. More than she ever had. And that was a problem. Once before, she’d been involved with him and the love affair had been one-sided; now, since they were older, the only difference was that they were physically intimate. Just because they’d made love was no reason to think that they had a future together.
He had his corporations, his ranches, his own life and a daughter.
“Oh, stop it,” she told herself as she finally let Fire Cracker out of her stall. Bucking and snorting, the horse romped to the middle of the corral and immediately dropped to the ground, where she rolled back and forth, her legs kicking wildly in the air, a cloud of dust billowing from beneath her. “Great. All that brushing for nothing.” Bliss chuckled as she walked toward the back door of the house.
