“Hi, Mom. I was just going to get you,” she said to Joyce.
Joyce glanced from Matthew to Cory, who now stood in front of her, fidgeting.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Joyce said to Cory. She turned to Matthew. “Hello, Mr. McKnight. I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice took on a chillier tone, and Matthew felt a shiver of unease.
“How are you feeling, Mom?” Cory put an arm carefully around her shoulders. “Do you want to sit in the living room?”
“I’m okay, Cory. I’ll sit by the table. If I won’t be in the way that is?” She looked at Matthew with an appraising look. It wasn’t difficult to see that in spite of her daughter’s changed heart, Joyce still didn’t trust him.
Cory settled her mother in and went back to the stove. She didn’t look at Matthew when she turned the heat on under the frying pan. She pulled open the utensil drawer and fumbled around for a fork, which she immediately dropped. When she bent over to pick it up, she banged her head on the oven door handle.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, throwing the fork into the sink and grabbing another.
Matthew watched her awkward movements. She was nervous. A nervousness created by Joyce’s presence and unspoken censure of Matthew, no doubt.
He figured it would be better if he left Cory to work alone and walked around the U-shaped kitchen and sat at the table across from Joyce. He preferred to face her head on. She looked at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
“So what brings you here, Mr. McKnight? More business about the will?”
Matthew felt his pulse quicken at her question, wondering for a guilty moment if she knew.
“Actually, I came to see how Cory was doing,” he said. “She was supposed to help me coach T-ball this afternoon, and she couldn’t make it.” He forced himself to hold Joyce’s piercing gaze. “I was concerned.”
“I find this interesting,” Joyce said. “You didn’t seem so concerned about her before. When Zeke was on the rampage.”
Matthew acknowledged her comment with a slight nod. “No. My concern had been for my client. Misplaced concern, I found out.”
“Found out? Or decided to set aside, now that Cory is older and prettier? Now that some time has elapsed.” Joyce rocked back and forth with slow movements, her eyes never leaving Matthew. “I know how you used to look at her, Matthew, and watch her when you thought no one could see you. But I did. I know you were attracted to her.”
“Mother, please,” Cory stepped around the cupboards. “I don’t want you talking to Matthew like this.”
Joyce didn’t move her eyes from Matthew once.
“You’re right, Joyce,” Matthew conceded. “I’ve always been attracted to her. Cory is a very dynamic person. Hard to look past.”
He could see his honest admission took a little of the wind out of Joyce’s sails and for a moment, she stopped rocking.
“And I’ve since found out a few things about my former client, Zeke Smith.” He felt as if he had come to a crucial point, and he wanted and needed this tiny woman’s approval. “Things that, I must confess, I’ve been blind to.”
“Convenient, isn’t it, to discover that after the man is dead?”
“Actually, it isn’t.” Matthew sat back and sighed, praying for the right words.
It meant everything to him to know that Joyce believed him. Her hatred for him was even stronger than Cory’s had been.
“Last night I asked Cory’s forgiveness for the trouble and pain I caused by defending Zeke Smith’s rights. Before, I hid behind the excuse that I was protecting his court-ordered rights. Doing my job. I know now how manipulative Zeke was. I could argue that I fell under his spell as well.” He straightened, still holding Joyce’s gimlet gaze. “But none of that matters now. Right now, I only ask that you can forgive me for the trouble I brought into your life.”
Joyce held his gaze, then looked away, as if to another time. “Did you know that whenever Cory had to visit him, I would be sick with worry?” Her voice was quiet but determined. “Sick with wondering what would happen to her, what he would do to her. I used to pray, but I stopped doing even that.” She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Cory was instantly at her side, her arm around her shoulders, her hand covering her mother’s. “Don’t, Mom. Don’t go there. It’s over now.”
“It’s only been over for a few weeks, Cory,” Joyce said angrily. “Up until this man came, we thought Zeke would show up any moment, and we would have to move again.” Her voice faltered. “And he comes telling us that Zeke has given us everything he owns. I don’t believe it.”
Her words cut through Matthew, and for a moment, he wanted to tell them they were both right not to trust Zeke’s last wishes. Then Cory looked at him, her eyes shining with affection and, maybe, love? He couldn’t extinguish that emotion. Not while everything was so new between them.
“But it’s true,” Cory said confidently, “It’s real. I saw the will. Now we can make plans.” She turned back to her mother, and Matthew felt almost sick.
“Plans. We’ve never been able to make plans.” Joyce covered her face with her hands, and Matthew could see the sheen of tears slipping between her fingers. He felt helpless and out of place. He felt like a deceiver.
Cory gave him a helpless look, still crouched by her mother’s side.
It was all he could do to keep from rushing to her side, from pulling her away from her mother, from gathering her in his arms. He wanted to protect her from the truth and keep it at bay until they had a chance to spend some time together without the specter of Zeke and his manipulation hanging between them.
He felt as if he balanced on a very tricky edge. Faced with Joyce’s real pain, the knowledge of Zeke’s latest will seared his mind. Zeke was everything Joyce and Cory had always said he was. Despite his fine words to Joyce, Matthew knew he hadn’t believed Cory until he experienced for himself the true nature of Zeke Smith. They were both right. Had been right all along.
“I want him to leave, Cory,” Joyce muttered.
“No, Mom,” Cory said, stroking her mother’s hair. “I asked him to stay for supper.”
Joyce lifted her face, palming away the tears and staring at Cory. “He was your date last night, wasn’t he?”
Matthew listened to the mother and daughter, a slow pain building in his chest at what he heard. Cory hadn’t told her mother she had been with him.
“Yes, he was,” Cory said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew it would upset you.”
“I would have stopped you.”
“You couldn’t have, Mother. I would have gone anyhow.” Cory looked over at Matthew, her smile reassuring. “I wanted to see him,” she said, her eyes holding his. “I wanted to be with him. You see, I’ve liked him for years.”
Her quiet admission eased his pain. When she got up to stand beside him, he couldn’t stop himself from catching her hand and squeezing it tightly.
Joyce sat in stony silence, not looking at either of them. Matthew thought of the last time he saw her in church. At that time, both Cory and her mother treated him the same. Now Joyce sat alone in her anger, and Cory stood by his side.
“He’s not to be trusted, Cory,” Joyce said.
“Why do you say that? You don’t know him.”
Joyce shook her head. “You don’t either, my girl. Before last night, you felt the same way I did. Don’t be a fool like me and fall for a charming smile and a handsome face.” With those words hanging in the air, Joyce stood and walked carefully back to her bedroom.
Cory watched her go, and Matthew could see the pain in her face. She tugged his hand. He didn’t want her to go to her mother and her bitter anger.
But he let her go.
“I’ll be right back,” Cory said, walking backward down the hall. “Don’t leave.”
Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling sadly as she turned and entered her mother’s bedroom.
He smelled somethin
g and ran to the stove. He turned the heat off under the pan, pulled it off the element and stared with consternation at the burnt omelette.
“So much for supper,” he muttered, dropping the smoking pan into the sink. He spent a few minutes cleaning it up as best he could, then put the pan back on the stove.
“I’m sorry,” Cory said behind him. “I forgot about it.”
Matthew turned, leaning against the counter. “I wasn’t hungry, anyway.”
Cory walked toward Matthew and pressed her fingers against his forehead. “Stop frowning, Matthew. Everything will be fine.”
“Can I see you again?” he asked, almost desperately.
Cory’s smile lit up her face, reassuring him. “Of course.”
“I have to sit in on a meeting for Nathan on Saturday. Can I pick you up on Sunday? For church?”
“That would be nice.”
“Good.” He shifted his weight, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’ll see you then.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, drew her close, and kissed her once more.
Just one more time together, he thought, holding her close. Then I’ll tell her. Next week, I’ll tell her. In the meantime, he hoped his father could do something about the other will so he wouldn’t have to tell her.
“You look particularly ravishing for a Saturday morning,” Kelsey said as Cory laid an order on the counter for the cooks.
Cory glanced down at her apron, already stained with tomato sauce, her shirt wrinkled and damp at the back. “Oh, very ravishing,” she said with a sardonic smile. “I’m expecting a photographer for Women’s Weekly for an exclusive interview.”
Kelsey propped herself against the counter, pursing her lips as she looked her friend over. “Of course you are. The reporter is doing an article on, ‘What the Woman in Love Looks Like.’”
Cory tried to frown, but couldn’t. It was as if her face refused to cooperate. “Well, I certainly don’t look ravishing,” she said.
“Wow. Snappy comeback, Cory. You’re definitely shmoopy, my girl.” Kelsey just grinned.
“I’m not. I’m busy is what I am.”
“And is the very charming and handsome Mr. McKnight coming into the restaurant today?”
Cory turned to her friend, shaking her head. “No. He’s gone to a meeting for Nathan in another town.”
“Oh. So we know his comings and goings, do we?” Kelsey caught her friend by the arm and pulled her into a narrow hallway, away from the kitchen and the dining area, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I heard you guys were together in Prairie Inn the other night.” Kelsey waved an admonishing finger. “Patronizing the competition, are we?”
Cory couldn’t stop the flush from creeping up her neck as she remembered that night and then last night. Matthew’s gentle touch and concern, his expression of love.
“So, are you in love?” Kelsey pressed.
“Kelsey, stop it,” Cory reprimanded, the flush warming her cheeks now.
“You look guilty,” crowed Kelsey, squeezing her friend’s arm. “You really like him, don’t you?”
Cory felt it again. The faint hesitation. “I care for him,” she said carefully, avoiding Kelsey’s avid gaze. “He’s really nice....”
“Oh, no,” Kelsey wailed. “I hear that ‘but’ in your voice. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Cory bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’ve never felt this way about any guy before.” She looked at Kelsey, bewildered. “And I’m scared.”
“Of what? He’s good-looking, he’s got all his teeth, and he’s got a good job. He goes to church. Honey, it doesn’t get much better.”
How could Cory explain it to Kelsey, who had grown up with security—parents who were still together, who lived in the same town they were born in? Kelsey’s previous husband had been a wonderful man, according to Kelsey. “I keep thinking about Zeke,” she said. “He’s been the only significant male in my life, and you know how horrible that was.” Cory stopped, knowing Kelsey wouldn’t truly understand. “My mother keeps telling me to be careful. Not to trust Matthew.”
“Do you?”
Cory stopped. “I don’t know,” she said. “I trust him to tell the truth, to take care of me.”
“What’s left?”
“What if he changes, Kelsey? What if he is just like my stepfather? Lately Mom has been pining over my brother, and I think how much you open yourself up to pain when you care for someone.” Cory took a deep breath and looked her friend in the eye. “I’m scared, Kelsey. I’m scared because I know when I let myself, I will love him too much. And he’ll have control over me. I said I’d never let that happen again as long as I live.”
“Oh, Cory...” Kelsey pulled Cory into a long hug. “It’s not about control—love is never about control. It’s about caring and sacrifice and doing the best for each other.” Kelsey drew away, bracketing Cory’s face with her hands. “When you love someone, you open yourself to hurt. That’s what happens when you give someone your heart. But if you keep your heart to yourself, you end up old and withered and alone. Your mom went through a lot. I know that. But don’t let her influence how you feel about Matthew. Please, don’t.”
Kelsey’s pleading tone, the sincerity in her face, melted the last defense Cory had erected against Matthew. She smiled and let herself be hugged once again.
“Thanks, Kelsey. You’re a true friend.” Cory sniffed, blinking back a sudden surge of tears.
“Of course I am.” Kelsey laughed, her own voice thick with emotion. “And you’re too special to let this wonderful chance slip through your fingers.”
Chapter Twelve
“You’re not coming to church?” Cory sat beside her mother on the couch, her hand resting on her shoulder.
“No.”
“Are you in a lot of pain today?”
“No more than usual. I don’t feel like it. That’s all.” Joyce sighed lightly. “I know you want to be with that Matthew fellow, and I can’t sit by and watch that happen.”
“Mother, stop it. Why do you dislike him so much?”
“Why do you ask? At one time you felt the same.”
“I did. But he asked me to forgive him, and I have.” She hesitated, knowing she wasn’t entirely sure of her own emotions in the matter. Matthew had confused her most of her life. It was only the past few days that everything felt right and true and good. Yet her feelings were so new and untried. “I can’t withhold forgiveness when it’s been asked.”
Joyce sighed, nodding her head. “I know, I know. But I’m worried for you.” She turned to her daughter and took her hand in her own. “He’s charming, Cory. Just like your stepfather. I made a big mistake once, Cory. Don’t do the same.”
Cory felt her mother’s words touch on her own misgivings, but refused to dwell on it. “Our relationship, if I can dare call it that, started with him asking my forgiveness. I don’t think that’s a dangerous place to start.”
“Maybe not, but be careful with your heart, my dear. I know you. Once you give it, you give it all. I’ve had too much sorrow in my life. I want only what’s best for you.” Joyce reached up and stroked Cory’s cheek. “You’re all I’ve got left, Cory.”
Cory laid her head on her mother’s. “I love you, Mom. I always will. But I care for Matthew.”
“Just be careful,” she said, pressing Cory’s hand against her cheek. “Say a prayer for me, would you?”
“I always do.” Cory laid a gentle kiss on her mother’s cheek, then got up.
“You look lovely, by the way,” Joyce said, leaning back to look at her daughter. “You so seldom wear a dress.”
“It looks okay?” she asked, running her hands down the clean lines of the navy shift. “It’s not too dowdy, or plain?”
“Simple is always best, Cory.” Joyce tilted her head to one side, considering. “You might want to add something. Just to soften the neckline. Get that silk aqua scarf. The one I got from—” She stopped. “From Zeke for my birthday.”
Cory p
aused a moment, hearing sorrow in her voice. “You sound sad.”
“No.” Joyce shook her head. “I’m not.”
“You always sound sad when you talk about him.”
Joyce waved her away. “Just get the scarf, and I’ll tie it for you. Bring that gold pin, too.”
The subject was closed.
Cory went to her mother’s bedroom, found the accessories, and brought them back. She sat beside Joyce.
Joyce draped the scarf around the dress’s plain neckline and pinned it. “I got this pin from your father, you know. Your real father.” Joyce looked past Cory, into another place and time. “Now he was a good man. A very good man and a good father to your brother....” She stopped abruptly, turning back to Cory, fussing with the scarf.
“You are thinking about Nik, aren’t you?”
Joyce finished pinning the broach. “Yes,” she confessed. “Yes, I was. I’ve been thinking about him more lately. How is he doing? Is he happy? I can’t let him go.”
“Of course you can’t. I think about him often, too.”
Joyce smiled. “Wouldn’t it be nice...” She gave a short laugh. “Wouldn’t it be nice if life was easy and simple? But it isn’t, Cory. You remember that.”
Cory knew she was referring to Matthew and let the comment slide. “I’m going now, Mom. Take it easy, okay? I hope you feel better soon.”
Joyce stroked her gently on the cheek. “My hopes are for you, Cory.”
A knock on the door broke the moment, and with an eager glance over her shoulder, Cory stood. She looked back at her mother. “I’ll be praying for you,” she said, blowing her a kiss. Then she almost flew to the door.
She pulled it open and there stood Matthew. His pose was relaxed—one hand tucked into the back pocket of his blue jeans, his black blazer open over a white shirt. Simple. Relaxed. His hair was tamed, but only slightly. He was chewing his lower lip, and the sight of his lack of confidence gave her a warm thrill.
“You look beautiful,” he said simply.
Cory fingered the scarf. “Thanks,” she said, unable to find anything wittier to say. “I suppose we should go.”
Divided Hearts Page 14
