The Mistaken Heiress

by Shelba Shelton Nivens

  Kate let Steve lead her out the door. But when the door closed behind them, she jerked her arm from his hand. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “So—Dr. Stephen Adams, you work in an office in Birmingham on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Yeah, a doctor’s office. What kind of doctor are you? Why didn’t you want me to know?”

  “I’m a psychologist, a therapist, Kate. I counsel people. I use an office at the church where my friend pastors.”

  “Psychologist! You’re a shrink? How long were you planning to use me for your study of neurotic women before you told me what you were up to?”

  “See. That’s why I didn’t tell you. How many times have you put down therapists to me?”

  Kate took her hands from her hips and folded her arms. She didn’t answer him.

  “Kate, there’s something else I need to tell you while we’re airing things.”

  “Airing things? That’s what you call it? So—tell me.”

  “Mom, Dad and the boys are coming here to live. We’re building them a house. And...”

  And you’re building one for Elizabeth.

  “We’re putting up a school building.”

  “A school?”

  “A private Christian school. At first, it’ll be for only the homeless kids we take in. Maybe later...”

  “Well, you don’t have to ask my permission—or even tell me. You can do anything you want to with the place.” She turned her face away. “I’ve seen Grandpa’s will. I’m not in it.”

  “Oh, Kate! I thought maybe you’d never have to find out.”

  She whirled to face him. “You thought I’d never find out? You knew? All this time, you knew I had no claim whatsoever on the place and you let me keep talking about my land? I’ll bet you had fun with that one.”

  “Kate...” He tried to take her shoulders, but she jerked away.

  “What else have you been trying to hide from me, Dr. Stephen Adams? Besides your wife and children?”

  * * *

  Steve grasped her shoulders, wanting to shake her—shake some sense into her. “What are you talking about, Kate? My wife and children?”

  Kate gave him a stony glare. “Elizabeth. Freddy and Jody.”

  “Elizabeth? You think she’s my wife? You think Freddy and Jody are my children? Elizabeth is my sister, Kate. Her kids are my niece and nephew. I’ve told you about Elizabeth. You met her at the theater with her husband, Fred, and his sister, Melissa.”

  “You told me your sister’s name was Bet.”

  “Bet. Beth. Elizabeth. When I was a kid I couldn’t say Elizabeth. I called her Bet. I still do sometimes.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughed and reached for Kate. She let him pull her into his arms. “How could I be married to someone else when I’m in love with you?”

  She jerked back and looked at him. She fought to get out of his arms.

  He let her go. What’s wrong now?

  “You love me? How can I believe that after all the lies you’ve told me?”

  “Lies? What lies?”

  “You didn’t tell me you’re a therapist. You didn’t let me know I was left out of Grandpa’s will. You purposely neglected to tell me about all the people coming to live here—and the schoolhouse you’re going to build.” She turned away. “I thought you were married and...”

  “You thought I was married. I didn’t say I was.”

  “You still tried to deceive me about all those other things.”

  “Why would I lie about loving you, Kate?” He reached for her.

  She pushed him away. “I don’t know why you said it. Maybe you think it will keep me from trying to find a loophole in Grandpa’s will. I’m confused right now, Steve. I’ve got to have some time to sort out all this stuff you’ve thrown at me. If there’s any sorting it out.”

  She whirled toward her car, feeling in a pocket of her slacks. She pulled out her car keys.

  “Wait, Kate. Didn’t you wear a coat?”

  “I don’t need it. I’m hot enough.”

  She climbed into the car and slammed the door. Then she opened it again. “Please tell your folks I’m not feeling well. You won’t be lying this time. Bye, Steve.”

  Running a hand through his hair, he watched as she turned the car around and headed up the driveway. Well, what do I do now? There’s no figuring that woman out. He looked up at the sky and prayed.

  Chapter 21

  On Monday morning, Steve sat in the rocker beside a dying fire in the fireplace, nursing his fifth cup of coffee for the day. He’d been too busy with the family all weekend to think much about what Kate had said to him on Saturday. But it was all he’d thought about since they’d left on Sunday evening.

  Now it was Monday, he had tons of work to do and all he could think about was that stubborn female.

  “Hotheaded redhead!” He dashed the remainder of his coffee into the hot ashes and heard them sizzle.

  She had called him a liar. A liar!

  He set the coffee mug on the hearth and stood. He couldn’t sit around here all day brooding about it. He had work to do.

  He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. I guess I shouldn’t have said I’m in love with her when she was so mad. If he’d been thinking rationally, he wouldn’t have. But she made him so angry he couldn’t think straight, the way she jumped to conclusions, then refused to listen to reason.

  He dropped back into the rocking chair, head between his hands, and massaged his scalp. Oh, the headaches that woman could give him.

  He had been patient with her irrational behavior. He had smiled and spoken calmly and logically in the midst of her outbursts and it hadn’t accomplished a thing.

  Dr. Stephen Adams, she’s not one of your patients.

  His head came up. Where had that thought come from? Of course she was not his patient. He grinned to himself. If she was a patient, he’d already have her straightened out by now.

  He wiped the grin from his face. Maybe she was not one of his patients, but hadn’t he been trying to treat her like one? Like Kate said, he was looking at her as if she was just another case, another disturbed individual he needed to straighten out.

  But he hadn’t been thinking of her that way lately. His feelings for her were too personal.

  Lowering his head, he closed his eyes, pressed his fingertips to his temples. God, You know how often I pray about that woman. My prayers about her have been almost ceaseless since the day I met her.

  About her. Not for her, but about her? Frowning, he raised his head and opened his eyes. Maybe that was his trouble. He’d prayed a lot about her, but seldom had he actually prayed for her.

  There was a difference, wasn’t there?

  Thinking about it, he had to admit he probably prayed for his clients more than he prayed for the woman he loved.

  And how often had he told angry patients that it’s difficult to stay angry with a person while praying for them? Maybe he should attend one of his own counseling sessions.

  He must admit, too, he had prayed more about the way she was messing up his plans than he’d prayed for her. He really had not been fair to Kate. He should have told her a long time ago about his profession and his plans for the place.

  I guess I was too big a coward, Lord. I’m sorry. If I can have one more chance...

  He sat and talked to the Lord about it for a long time. Finally, he got to his feet smiling. He would give her a little time to cool off and then call her. If she wouldn’t talk to him on the phone, he would go over to her uncle’s house to see her—or to the law office if he had to.

  He glanced around the room with a grin. Maybe he could entice her with a paintbrush and paint can. He would tear down the old wallpaper and get the walls ready to paint. He could pick up paint tomorrow
on his way back from his afternoon sessions in Birmingham.

  He worked diligently the remainder of the day taking down torn and faded wall covering and cleaning out dust and junk from behind it. Sorting the junk, he stopped, frowning at a paper in his hand. What is this?

  He glanced at his watch. It was too late in the day to get into town and check it out. He would go in the morning before he left for Birmingham.

  His business at the courthouse the next morning took much longer than he’d expected. Back at the house, he rushed to transfer file folders from the desk to his briefcase before heading out for his first appointment.

  As he opened the front door to go out again, a gust of wind rattled papers he’d left lying on the desktop. He glanced back but continued out the door. He could take care of those later. Kate was the only one with a key and she was too riled at him to come over again so soon—if she ever came back at all.

  * * *

  Kate let herself into the house with the key Steve had given her. Yes, there was her jacket still hanging on the chair where Elizabeth—his sister—had hung it.

  She stared at the almost-nude walls. He’s redoing the walls without me.

  It was a ridiculous thought—she hadn’t seen him in ages and Saturday they’d fought. She walked to the rocking chair and plopped into it. Steve had said he didn’t think the old house would be worth the effort or money it would take to restore it. Yet, when he’d seen what it meant to her, he’d begun work on it instead of working on his own project—the home for his parents and homeless children.

  Maybe he really did love her as he said. And she had thrown his love back in his face by calling him a liar. How would she feel if he treated her in such a way? She had spent the weekend nurturing her anger at him and hadn’t even considered his feelings. Now, sitting in the house where they had shared happy times together, she thought about his side of the situation.

  Steve was not obligated to tell her about her grandfather’s will.

  When she’d asked if there was a Mrs. Steve Adams, he had not said there wasn’t, so her overactive imagination had assumed there was.

  He’d never made derogatory remarks about her chosen work as she’d made about his. He’d never referred to the gardening business as “playing in the dirt,” the way her mother did. And when she continually berated him about the land, how could she blame him for failing to tell her about his plans for the place?

  Could he ever forgive her? Would he even listen if she tried to tell him how sorry she was? What could she do to show him? She stood and looked around. Maybe she could begin by carrying the old wallpaper outside to be burned.

  It looked as if the wind had scattered papers from the desk. She’d have to be careful not to gather up anything important with the stuff to burn.

  She picked up a couple of papers, laid them on the desktop and bent to pick up an old yellowed sheet.

  Her mouth dropped open. What was this?

  A deed?

  And my name’s on it!

  She dropped into the desk chair staring. A deed made out to her by her grandfather, and witnessed by his old buddies who’d witnessed his will.

  This is why he wanted me to take him to the county seat the day of his first stroke. To have it recorded.

  Had her mother found it when she’d come by that evening and gotten his checkbook? When had she given it to Steve?

  Kate’s heart plummeted. Tears blinded her until she could barely read the land description. Or the note she wrote Steve.

  Taking the deed, she ran to her car, leaving the front door standing open. She swiped at tears with dust-coated fingertips and started the car. She drove to the graveyard, parked at the foot of the hill and gazed at the marble headstones shining in the sunlight.

  Grandpa, forgive me. I was starting to blame you for everything that’s gone wrong in my life. For Steve’s coming here and making me fall in love with him so I wouldn’t fight him about the land. For the loss of my hopes and dreams. Even for my quitting school.

  And You, God. I blamed You for letting it all happen. Please forgive me.

  With her arms and head propped on the steering wheel, she gave it all to Him—including the hurt over deception by Steve and her mother. And her grief over Steve not loving her.

  No matter what someone else had or had not done, she had to do the right thing. She started the car and drove down the repaired driveway.

  * * *

  Steve stepped out of the pickup in front of the old farmhouse and frowned. I know I closed that door. “Kate!” If she’d come while he was away... He dashed inside.

  Her jacket was gone. And so was the deed. But a note lay on the desk. He picked it up and read, “Now I know why you said you love me.”

  Kate, Kate. He massaged his scalp. What is this all about? Why do you always jump to conclusions?

  How would he ever make her believe him now?

  He tried to call her but got no answer at her aunt’s house or the attorney’s office. Why did he not have her cell phone number?

  Checking for his own phone, he headed for the woods. Maybe she had gone to the old campsite, now his building site.

  He glanced around the clearing, looked up in the limbs of her favorite tree, checked the stream and tried calling her office and uncle’s house again. No Kate.

  Propping a stick of firewood against a tree, he sat down and massaged his temples.

  When bushes rattled nearby, his head shot up, his eyes flew open.

  Kate stood before him, a streak of sunlight setting her short curls ablaze.

  He willed himself to be calm. “Hello, Katie.”

  She held out a paper and moved closer. “I brought the deed back. No one else has to know about it, so you can go ahead with your building plans. I think Grandpa would have liked what you’re doing with the place.”

  She said it in a rush like a memorized speech she wanted to get out before forgetting what she planned to say. She shook the paper at him. “Here. Take it. This is already hard enough.”

  He shook his head. “It’s been recorded in your name.”

  She frowned and looked at the folded paper. “I didn’t see anyplace where it was stamped.”

  “How closely did you look at it?”

  She shrugged. “I looked at it. But it doesn’t matter. A lawyer can fix things so it’s legally yours.”

  “Look again.”

  She unfolded the paper and turned it sideways. He watched her lips move as she read the stamping in the margin. Her frown increased. “It was recorded today. Before I saw it. Before I knew it existed. How...? Why...?”

  Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her to figure it out. He couldn’t lose his cool now. He leaned back against the tree. “I’m sorry if I got dust on your jacket when I ripped down that torn wallpaper behind the desk. You should have seen all the stuff flying out from behind there. An old check written by your grandfather. A—”

  “You found it today behind the wallpaper! You found the deed and Grandpa’s check to the gas company. He knocked them behind the desk and into that big torn place when he had the stroke and fell. You had it recorded before you knew I’d seen it. Oh, Steve!”

  He barely got his arms open in time to catch her as she dove at him. Still, she knocked him off his makeshift stool—just like the day he’d met her. Only this time, from the look on her face, she wasn’t angry with him.

  Both were on the ground, he on his back, she on top of him.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “There you go, knocking me off my stool again.”

  She laughed. “It got me into your arms, didn’t it?”

  Epilogue

  A year later, on a beautiful spring morning, the house stood white and stately in the sunlight. A lush, green lawn swept from the hou
se to the edge of the woodland. Steve stood beside an archway entwined with roses and sweet-smelling honeysuckle that marked a path through the trees.

  Dogwood trees in full bloom rivaled the brilliance of Kate’s long white gown as she glided across the grass toward him. But Kate knew by the expression on his face that nothing could compete for him with the glorious red cloud—as he called it—surrounding her glowing face and sparkling green-and-gold-flecked eyes.

  During the previous year, while she’d finished earning her horticulture and art degrees and Steve had restored the old farmhouse and supervised the building of a home for his parents and the boys, Kate’s hair had grown long again. At his request, she wore only a crown of flowers on her head, and no veil covering her hair.

  Even her mother glowed with pride as she stood beside the flower-decked arch holding the matron-of-honor bouquet and waiting for her younger daughter to glide across the grassy carpet on her father’s arm. She didn’t even frown when Kate stubbed her toe just as she reached the archway—and fell into Steve’s arms.

  The preacher cleared his throat. The adult guests gasped. The children—Amy as the flower girl, little Tommy holding the ring, Mama and Papa Ad’s boys as Steve’s groomsmen—giggled.

  Steve spoke close to Kate’s ear. “Still falling for me, are you?”

  Kate stifled her own giggle. “Always, now and forever.”

  Steve gave her a little squeeze and set her firmly on her feet.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  Kate’s father looked at the preacher. “Her mother and I,” he said.

  And, in Kate’s heart, she heard loud and clear: I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you a future and a hope.

  * * * * *

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