by Debra Holt
Kaitlyn admired the way the house was built on the rise of the hill, which allowed for great views and nice breezes to flow freely. She had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, Clay had thought of everything. It was a nice world he’d carved out for himself… and his family. Lest we forget. She tasted the bitterness as it rose in her throat. One part of her brain told her she should be able to forge ahead and not let any of this bother her one bit. Look at the career she’d made for herself in comparison. She had survived and made a success of her life. Why did that not make things feel any better? If anything, it only brought more shadows. At what price had that success attained?
Kaitlyn had certainly never forgotten the most glaring fact of all… not for one moment. Somewhere in the perfect house there was a wife and a child. Not in evidence when they arrived, but she was sure they would soon appear. They were the real reasons she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near this place or her hometown over the years. Perhaps Clay planned to keep them hidden from her or vice versa? Surely, he was aware she knew about them. Or is he? In an instant, a light bulb flashed on in her brain. It spurred her to move forward, down the steps and along a path to the side of the garden.
If it hadn’t been for those newspaper clippings her grandmother had sent after she left for New York all those years ago, she might still be in the dark about the sort of man Clay Morgan really was. Renewed anger kept building, punctuating each step along the stone path, until she came to a small wishing well filled, not with water, but with wildly colored impatiens. Normally, she would have found the spot lovely, but not in her present frame of mind. Perhaps it was his wife’s touch? The word wife twisted a knife in the region of her heart. She urged her mind to think of other things, instead of the pain of deception.
A feeling of being trapped reared its head amongst her other feelings. Had he really brought her here to gloat? Did he get some perverse satisfaction in her being under the same roof as the other woman? Oh wait. I am the other woman now, aren’t I? Her mouth thinned into a bitter line of irony. No. She would just be the innocent little plaything he had occupied his summer days with, while evidently his nights had belonged to someone else all along. All the buried feelings of betrayal washed over her. Feelings she had never wanted to experience again. Hence the reason for her never setting foot anywhere near McKenna Springs, Texas, once she left it behind. Now, here she was once more. And the memories were unleashed all over again.
Kaitlyn remembered the day the bottom had dropped out of her world and literally fell in pieces at her feet. Two years to the day after she left Texas, and her heart behind, she had opened the brown envelope from her grandmother, withdrawing several folded sheets of newsprint. One clipping had fallen from her hand to land on the floor. It was still folded in half, yet just as she bent to retrieve it, her hand had stilled—a sudden, almost eerie premonition of dread stopped her hand in mid-reach. Just as quickly as it had come, it passed. She reached slowly to pick up the paper but simply returned it to the tabletop without unfolding it.
Taking a deep breath, curiosity had replaced dread. Carefully, she began unfolding the other sheets of paper, yellowed and crisp with age. That was the moment when she discovered she finally knew what true heartbreak felt like.
The first clipping had begun “Local Couple Weds.” Under the headline was a grainy photo of “the couple.” Clay Morgan’s familiar features, with a shorter figure—female—pressed close to his side. He had looked straight at the camera, but the woman had been looking up at him. Kaitlyn’s heart dropped to her toes, and she was glad of the support of the chair she had been seated upon at the time. Her legs would not have supported her in the moment. It took a few more deep breaths before she could allow her eyes to take in the rest of the printed words.
“Deputy Sheriff Clayton Morgan was wed yesterday to Miss Melissa Faraday. The ceremony was a brief one and held at the Justice of Peace’s office in Harrison, where the bride hails from. The happy couple will reside in McKenna Springs.”
How long she had sat there, reading and rereading those words. She had no idea. “Happy couple” kept sounding over and over in her mind. Mechanically, she unfolded the second clipping, thinking nothing could be worse than what she’d just read. That would prove to be naïve thinking. Kaitlyn had found even more pain waiting for her in a news item dated just six months after the first one.
“Stork News! Today, Trooper Clay Morgan and his wife, Missy, welcomed their son into the world. The little boy weighed in at six pounds four ounces and was named Joshua Alan.” Brief and to the point, the announcement made it official. Clay Morgan was a father of a little boy. His life had moved right along.
So there it was. The truth had come out. Whatever the silly hopes she had held all that time about how Clay would come to New York and sweep her up in his arms and take her home to Texas—those had been crushed to pieces just as she instantly had done at that moment with the paper in her hands. Kaitlyn had gathered the clippings and the rest that she had not bothered to read, crushing them in her fists. Jamming them back into the envelope, she had held it over the kitchen sink and then touched a lit match to it. She watched as the past ended up in a pile of ashes, soon to be flushed down the drain. It was a symbolic burying of her broken heart that day.
Clay had wed another woman, and he had wed her only three months after Kaitlyn had departed for New York. To make matters even worse, it was evident, using simple math with the dates of the newsprint, that Missy Faraday had been pregnant at the time. All of that added up to the glaring fact that while Kaitlyn had been making a fool of herself over Clay and literally throwing herself into his arms, there was another female already carrying his child! When he had said the words “love you” to her, they had been empty lies.
She had felt so dirty and used at the thought. The man she had placed on a white horse and given her heart to so freely—the man who had held her and kissed her passionately one heated spring evening—who had vowed a future for the two of them—that man had never really existed. That hurt the most of all. He had played her, using her naïve gullibility to his advantage. The man she had loved had only existed in her mind, to disappear in a vapor of smoke when she needed him the most.
Even now, a chill went through her at the stark memory. The timeframe meant he had not given Kaitlyn any thought after she left. No. Clay Morgan had never been heartbroken as she had envisioned in her fairy tale where he had come after her to live happily ever after. He had moved on without a backward glance. Of course, he could let her leave without a fight… she had never meant anything more to him than a distraction. She could be easily discarded.
The time came when it had been her turn. A few days after the destruction of the clippings, she had taken the one remaining photo she had of herself and Clay—taken the night of her prom—and tore it into tiny bits of paper, before she let them fall from her hands into the murky waters of the Hudson River. Kaitlyn had made the vow that not one more tear would be shed for the man. She kept that promise. Over the years, if she thought of him, it was with a level of disgust that surprised even her. As years passed, she had ceased to think of him at all—until the return to Texas soil. Now it was time to face the man and let him know the truth had caught him out.
Chapter Four
Edie’s dinner, which they all shared around the big table in the dining room, was in a word—delicious. The menu consisted of grilled pork chops, baked sweet potatoes, two salads—one vegetable and one fruit—with fluffy, homemade yeast rolls to round it all out. It was way too much good cooking.
“If I have to stay here long, I’ll gain fifty pounds.” Angie smiled across at the woman. “I never truly appreciated the term ‘home cooking’ until now. This is wonderful.”
Edie beamed under the sincere praise. “I am so pleased you’re enjoying it all.”
“I second what Angie just said. These rolls are truly amazing, Edie. I’d love to have the recipe.” Kaitlyn sat beside Angie.
She had taken the ch
air farthest from where Clay sat at the head of the table. She was also acutely aware of the fact there was still an empty chair at the opposite end of the table. The woman of the house was nowhere in sight, much less a child. How very odd. Perhaps she didn’t wish to sit through a dinner with them. Kaitlyn knew the feeling and certainly couldn’t blame her. “Missy’s husband” was certainly a piece of work.
“Clay said you liked homemade bread. That’s why I thought I would welcome you here with a batch of those rolls. The same with the apple dumplings for dessert. He said those were your favorite, too.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes flew unbidden to Clay, but he kept his own on the plate in front of him.
Angie slid a look over to her that clearly said, “I knew it.”
That bit of information Edie so willingly shared was definitely a surprise and, like a match to kindling, Kaitlyn’s anger ignited and then began a slow boil. He was really priceless. A married man, yet he sat so cool and calm, playing his games. Did he think she could so easily be swept up by his charms again? Perhaps he envisioned being able to pick up where they left off? Well, Kaitlyn had had enough of him and his sordid games long ago. She was taking control right now and about to give him some of his own back.
“Well, isn’t that thoughtful?” Kaitlyn turned a cool smile on the man seated quietly, now looking at her, eyes narrowed a bit while he took a sip from his glass of tea.
Hang on to your hat, mister; it is going to get bumpy. Kaitlyn’s lips moved into a smile while her eyes narrowed on Clay. It was her time to hand him a dose of his own medicine.
“You all have shown us so much hospitality already. I really cannot think of a way to repay you.” Her voice was smooth as honey. “Tell me—when will we have the pleasure of being able to thank the lady of the house?”
Angie’s fork went down a little too abruptly on the edge of her plate, the noise rattling against the sudden silence of the room. “The lady of the house?”
Kaitlyn couldn’t have asked Angie to deliver the question with any better timing or look of surprise if she’d planned it ahead of time.
“Why, yes, Angie.” Kaitlyn kept her gaze on her target, her smile not wavering and meant just for him. “Ranger Morgan has a wife and a child too, tucked someplace around here. Don’t you, Clay?” Kaitlyn was on a roll. “Isn’t her name—let me see—oh, yes, Missy—or something like that?” At that point, she reached for her glass and took a sip, applauding herself silently for such a grand delivery. Oscar, please.
The chiming of the grandfather clock from the hallway was the only sound in the room for several long moments. As Kaitlyn returned her glass to the table, it was only then she noticed the look on Edie’s and Seth’s faces. Shock? Embarrassment? Why?
She then ventured a smug look at their host. His eyes were darker than she’d ever known them to be and they nailed her to her spot. His whole face could have been etched in granite in that moment. An instant chill ran down her spine. Did he think he could intimidate her? She would be damned if she let him off so easily. But before she could take another jab at him, it was his turn to speak.
“Yes, Missy is correct.” His tone rumbled low and was spoken with a steady deliberateness meant to punctuate each syllable.
All eyes were on him as he took his napkin from his lap and methodically folded it in half—his fingers emphasizing the creasing. Then he simply laid it to the side of his plate. When he next brought his gaze up to hers, it never faltered, nor did his voice.
Clay rose from his chair. “Missy was her name.”
The words were softly spoken and, for a moment, Kaitlyn thought she had misunderstood him. That was soon clarified.
“I say was because she’s dead now. And she is ‘tucked away’ as you put it, in the cemetery next to the Baptist church in town. If you will all excuse me, I have some paperwork to do in my study.”
Silence—awkward and horribly loud—followed his retreating back until it disappeared from sight. The echo of his boot steps fell away until the closing of the study door ended them.
No one spoke for several long seconds. Kaitlyn’s mind was a jumbled mass of thoughts and images. Sitting in stunned shock, she was only vaguely aware of Seth finally mumbling something about chores in the barn and Edie following shortly after him into the kitchen, throwing Angie a look to remain behind as Edie needed no help in response to the woman’s offer.
Kaitlyn felt Angie’s gaze fall upon her.
“Well…” Angie began but didn’t proceed.
Kaitlyn looked at her. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Well,” Angie began again, a mixture of both sympathy and reprimand in her eyes. “I would say that you really know how to clear a room.”
“Thanks a lot.” Kaitlyn’s stomach felt as if it had been punched after the shock of the last few minutes. What had she just done? “I had no idea. I had no way of knowing about his losing his wife.” Kaitlyn wished she could erase the events of the last hour, even the last week.
She had been so intent on getting some of her own hurt back on him, but she had no idea it would play out the way it just did. An intense welling of pity for him and self-loathing of herself all rolled together in her stomach. Her words had been awful and not like herself. No matter what he’d done to her all those years ago, or how he’d done it, he did not deserve to have his deceased wife mocked in their home.
“I know you wouldn’t do something so cold and mean on purpose.” Angie spoke up. “I think this has been one heck of a day for everyone. I’m sure Clay knows you meant no harm.”
“Right.” Kaitlyn’s mouth moved into a rueful grimace.
Clay knew all right. She had tried to hurt him, and she had succeeded. It was in his eyes.
“I owe him a big apology, but how can I even speak to him now?”
“I think you both need a little space at the moment and a good night’s sleep. With a fresh mind, you’ll find the words. Let it rest until tomorrow. Let’s go upstairs and try to get some sleep. Things will look better in the light of a new day.”
They ascended the stairs together and Angie gave Kaitlyn a comforting hug as they parted outside Angie’s door. Kaitlyn moved down the hall to her own room, grateful for the solitude. She didn’t pause to turn on the lamp, crossing instead in the dark to the window. She stood looking out on the night. The house was quiet. It was a beautiful house that had known a horrible grief. With her arms clasped around her shoulders, she let her chin fall to rest on her chest, her eyes squeezed shut. How could she have been so callous? An overwhelming sense of sorrow engulfed her. What twists and turns their lives had been dealt. She had been caught up in her own world of self-pity—only thinking of what she had suffered at the hands of Clay Morgan so long ago. A lifetime ago was what it felt like in that moment. It was inconsequential now in light of the tragedy that had befallen him. What she had gone through could in no way compare with his loss.
Clay had loved, and lost, the person he had chosen to spend his life with. A child had lost his mother. What she and Clay had, whatever it was, could not compare. To her, it had been a love to last a lifetime. But for him—it had obviously never really existed. That was why she had wanted to strike out at him. How childish that seemed now in light of everything else. The truth was, he had forgotten about her almost as soon as the bus left town all those years ago. While she had clung to memories, he had moved forward with life—one that had not included her.
The thought still had the power to inflict pain and moisture filled her eyes. Was it horrible of her to be angry with a dead woman? To be jealous of her? A woman who had lived in this house—Kaitlyn’s house—the one she had drawn and wanted to live in with Clay? A woman who had walked its halls and filled its rooms with laughter and lovemaking with Clay? Missy Morgan had lived the life Kaitlyn had dreamed of for so long as a young girl and had been denied. Kaitlyn’s name might be in six foot high letters emblazoned on a lighted marquee on Broadway, but that wasn’t what she’d craved. Others had
chosen that path for her and she’d followed like a meek child. Another woman had been the one to live her real dream.
Stop it! She hastily wiped away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Get a hold of yourself. What good were tears? The past was gone. The past she had thought she had mourned had never really mattered to anyone, except her. That was the black and white truth. And now she was a grown woman. She was a success and had a career and a life. Clay Morgan had a life also—and the career he wanted. It was that career that brought them together again, not some “hand of fate.” He was doing a favor for her grandmother. Nothing remotely of the romantic fairy tales she used to believe had been their destiny.
The problem was that while, to him, she might have just been a silly girl with a crush, to her he had been the world. Kaitlyn had known that fact from the moment she set eyes upon him, even though she was “just a girl.” Her heart had recognized him—and so had her grandmother, even though she admonished Kaitlyn, time and again, about her school girl “crush.” The old woman had also known and even been afraid of the hold Clay had on her granddaughter’s heart. Gran had a dream early on for Kaitlyn. Her falling for a local cowboy wasn’t in the plan.
Kaitlyn had done everything that had been asked of her. She had gone to New York, worked hard and made people proud. Clay had always been hiding just around a corner in her heart, though. How foolish she had been to try and make herself believe she had forgotten him… he had been shoved out of her mind. However, he was only hiding in the deepest recesses of her heart. And today he had walked right back out into full light. A harsher reality had come with him. He was gone from her. The real truth was he had never really been hers. The pain was like her heart breaking fresh all over again. Throwing herself across her bed, she buried her face into a pillow and let the tears flow. It was time to let go. The problem was, how did she make her heart agree?
