Cora's Heart: A Cypress Hollow Yarn

by Rachael Herron

  “I’m leaving. We’re done, Mac. Whatever… this… was, is over. Take your time getting out of my house,” she said.

  “I’m –”

  Her heart shattered into powdered porcelain, just like Eliza’s teacup had. “But then get out.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Gauge is as deceptive as a gambler. It will lie, whisper to you exactly what you want to hear, and you’ll run out of yarn six inches before you finish binding off. Always, always buy that extra ball of yarn. – E.C.

  The newspaper office was closed when Mac squealed into the parking lot. He banged on the glass, but no one answered. Punching Royal’s number again, he threw the truck into drive and roared the short distance to Trixie’s house.

  He had to beat Cora. He had to.

  If he beat her, he could tell Royal the deal was off. Hell, it had never been on. And wasn’t that mostly his own fault when it came down to that? He’d encouraged Royal as much as he could, spurring him on like a drunk jockey, telling him this would be the best place for horses – it was true, sure. It was fine horse land, but so was a whole hell of a lot of other inland California real estate without ocean views. When Mac looked back on it, he knew he’d been the driving force behind the whole thing.

  Mac had wanted to come home.

  He’d wanted a reason, instead of just going home, instead of taking the risk on seeing Cora on her own merit. Instead of just showing up, open handed, no ulterior motive. Then he could have helped her through this honestly. Openly.

  He was a goddamned idiot.

  Braking so hard the tires squealed, he slid the truck into park crookedly in front of Trixie’s low-slung bungalow. And yep, Royal’s Rolls was parked neatly in the driveway. Cora’s car was nowhere to be seen. Thank God.

  “Royal?” Mac yelled as he banged on the front door. He gave it a minute, and then pushed it open, praying that they weren’t draped naked over the living room couch. There were some things he knew he could never un-see, and Royal’s bare ass would probably fall into that category. “Trixie?” he said loudly. “We have an emergency!”

  Through the kitchen, the back screen door slammed as someone entered.

  “What the hell, Mac?”

  Trixie was dressed, and for that Mac was truly grateful. “She knows.”

  Trixie stopped moving, placing the flat of her hand carefully on the counter. “We’re in the backyard.”

  Mac’s heart thumped.

  “Just me and Royal. We’re having breakfast out back.”

  Royal was in a hammock slung underneath two young acacia trees. His eyes were closed, the bottoms of his feet dirty as if he’d been padding about in the dirt. A cup of coffee rested on the ground next to him. In Royal’s own home, everything that surrounded him had been picked by an interior decorator who’d had ultimate designs on the man himself. Same with Royal’s offices. Even his car didn’t really fit him. The only thing that had ever seemed truly Royal were his old, beloved, ratty T-shirts and the way he could make money on horses. But on Trixie’s hammock? He looked more relaxed than Mac had seen him in years. Damn. Everything was so frikkin complicated.

  “Hey.”

  “Wha?” Royal scooted to sitting. He rubbed his face. “I fell asleep.”

  Without preamble, Trixie said, “She knows.”

  Royal stretched. “Saw that one coming.”

  “You what?” said Mac.

  “Didn’t think you two could keep that kind of lie going for as long as you seemed to want to.”

  Trixie frowned at him. “Because you’re the expert on this situation?”

  Royal shrugged and scooted onto a sunnier section of the hammock. “I’m an expert on Mac, yeah. He’s my best friend. And honey, I plan to be an expert on you by a week from Tuesday.”

  “Good luck,” she said, but they exchanged a glance that left Mac, just for a second, feeling very left out.

  Turning back to Mac, Trixie said, “I can’t believe you told her.”

  Mac sunk onto a low wooden bench and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “That’s the thing. I didn’t.”

  “Shit. I knew you couldn’t lie to her.”

  Royal laughed. “And that was the part of the plan I figured would fall through first. Just didn’t think it would only take five minutes. You’re a terrible liar, Mac. It’s good you don’t actually gamble, ’cause you’d be fleeced on a paycheck-to-paycheck basis.”

  Yeah, well, at heart, when it had the highest risk possible, Mac had played against the odds – again – and he’d lost. Just like everyone in his family always did, eventually.

  “She’s coming to find you, Royal,” he said. “And you have to tell her no.”

  “Oh, it gets even better,” Royal said. “What part do I play in this?”

  “You’re not playing a part. You don’t belong here. I’m going to tell you what you can and can’t do, and because, as you say, you’re my best friend, you’re going to go along with it.”

  “What if it’s in my best financial interest to ignore you?” Royal’s voice was still teasing, even though it was growing obvious that neither Trixie nor Mac appreciated any levity in the situation.

  “Don’t buy from her.”

  “Mac. I want the land.”

  “So take less. Take my mother’s. Take my aunt’s.”

  “I’m an all –”

  “All or nothing kind of guy,” said Mac. “I know. Shit, Royal, help a brother out here. Listen. She thinks she wants to sell and give the money to Olivia.”

  “Oh, God,” said Trixie.

  “And you can’t do that, Royal. You can’t sell to her. Because then Olivia would have to learn the truth.”

  Royal frowned. “It sounds like the deal we came up with is off. So dude, and I mean this in the nicest way, you know you’re being an ass, right?”

  Mac drew taller. “Don’t buy her land.”

  “You tell me what to do with my horses all the time, so I’m going to pretend you’re not the jerkwad you sound like right now. But, brother, you act like this around her? You’ll lose her. You don’t tell an adult what they can and can’t do.”

  Trixie touched Royal’s leg. “Sometimes compromise is better than loss.” Her voice was so serious that both men stared at her. “Sometimes you’d give anything just to have things work out some of the time instead of none of it.”

  Yeah. It was too late. Mac had already lost Cora. At least he could help avert this disaster, if only Royal would listen. “If you buy her land, and she tells Olivia…”

  “Well,” said Royal, “you were both going to tell her someday that Mac was her daddy, wasn’t that the plan? That’s just changed a little, right?”

  From inside the screen door in the kitchen came the sound of a glass smashing to the floor.

  “Shit,” said Trixie. “Honey?”

  The door slapped open and Olivia tumbled out, shaking liquid off her hand.

  Trixie stood and took a step forward. “Was that a glass?”

  “Fuck, Mom. Who cares? Mac is my father?”

  “No, honey,” she started. “But it’s complicated.”

  Olivia’s face clouded into an angry mask, and Mac couldn’t blame her. “There’s been some confusion about that…” he started.

  “For almost sixteen years I haven’t known who my dad is. Yeah, I’d call that confusion, all right. I just didn’t know Mom was still confused about it. I just thought she was keeping it a stupid secret for some stupid reason.” She crossed her arms awkwardly over her black hoodie. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on, right now. Is Mac my dad or not?”

  Mac opened his mouth and then closed it again. Was this his place? Wasn’t it Trixie’s story to tell? But Trixie had tears running down her face, something that shocked him more than if she’d passed out.

  Royal leaned forward. “I guess that your mom and Mac here were going to try to make things easy on you. That was their plan, anyway.”

  Trixie nodded and Mac fe
lt something in his chest tighten.

  Royal went on as Olivia, pale, listened with her eyes glued to his. “The truth of what happened is complex. Mac and your mom were dating back then, yeah. But as your mom told me, she was in love with someone else, and he wasn’t exactly free to be with her. She had to keep it a secret from everyone for a very long time. Now that everything’s kind of coming out into the open, it’s hard for both of them.”

  “Do I look like I give a shit about who it’s hard for?” No tears for Olivia. Just pure, frustrated rage shone from her eyes. “Coming out into the open, my ass.”

  “Language,” Trixie said weakly.

  “Mom! Tell me the goddamn truth! I’m not going to break. Don’t you know that by now? I’m so much stronger than you think I am. You always think of me as a little doll who should be in dresses, but I’m a real person, almost an adult.”

  Mac’s heart twisted at the pure longing in the girl’s voice. If Trixie didn’t tell her, then by God, he would. The kid deserved that.

  But Trixie took a tentative, shaky step toward her daughter. “His name was Logan.”

  A furrow appeared between Olivia’s brows. “Was?”

  “He died five years ago.”

  Now it was Olivia’s turn to sit. She crossed her ankles and dropped into a cross-legged seat on the edge of the porch. “You didn’t tell me in time.”

  A pause. “No, I didn’t,” said Trixie.

  “Did he know?”

  “I think he might have.”

  “Think?”

  Mac heard raw pain in the kid’s voice, and he longed to do something, anything, to help, but he was powerless, watching a runaway horse bolt.

  “I denied it when he asked me.”

  “Mom.” Olivia’s eyes begged her mother to help her understand. She was teetering on the edge of panic, and a comforting lie might balance her. But a lie wouldn’t last, and Trixie knew it.

  “Honey, I thought it was the only thing I could do. He was married by then.”

  “To who?”

  Trixie hit at the tears that were now streaming freely down her face. “Oh, lovey.”

  Olivia’s spine straightened. She would give no quarter to her mother, not now. Mac could see that plainly.

  And so, apparently, could Trixie. “Cora. He was married to Cora.”

  “Oh,” breathed Olivia.

  Silence fell in the back yard, broken only by an incongruously cheerful bird that chirped three happy tones, over and over. A small plane buzzed overhead, probably on a sight-seeing trip over Half-Moon Bay. Could the occupants in the plane see what was taking place down here? Mac looked up, envying them the ease of their flight, their unawareness of the tectonic shifts that were occurring below.

  “Honey,” Trixie started, “I always wanted to tell you. But it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

  Olivia sucked in a stuttered breath. “That’s total crap. You were ashamed of me, and I’ve always known that. I just didn’t know why. Now I do.”

  “I have never been ashamed of you.”

  “Seriously, Mom?” Olivia pulled at her sweatshirt and then stuck out her combat boot. “This is the daughter you wanted? You’re seriously trying to tell me that? You wanted something perfect, and I’ve never been able to be that for you. Does Cora know? Does everyone know?”

  “No, she doesn’t,” said Trixie quickly.

  Mac cleared his throat.

  “I mean, she didn’t. Not until today, apparently.” Trixie reached her hand toward her daughter, but Olivia scuttled backwards like a startled crab.

  “So you ruined Cora’s life, too. That’s what you do. You ruin people’s lives, completely, and you think that’s okay.”

  “All I ever wanted to do was to take care of you. I just didn’t…”

  “You didn’t think. You didn’t care. You didn’t love me enough.”

  “No.” Trixie’s voice rang clearly through the yard. “I have always loved you more than anything else in the whole wide world. I messed up, Olivia. I didn’t do it the right way.”

  “Neither did I, Mom. And that’s what you’ve always gotten upset with me for. You always say I do things the wrong way. That I’m screwing up.”

  “No, baby.”

  “I’m never good enough. I could always do better, be better. God, were you trying to fix yourself or something?”

  Trixie shook her head. “No, I just wanted –”

  “To screw up as many people as possible?”

  “I know you’re not going to understand this, Olivia, but I’ve just been trying to hold things together. For you. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

  Olivia stood, brushing off the back of her jeans. “Good job, Mom. You sure fucked that up.”

  And she was gone, the screen door banging one last time.

  Royal stayed put on the hammock. “Why don’t you sit on over here with me for a while, huh?”

  Mac expected Trixie to lash out, to shout at him, at both of them. To blame them, which, really, he wouldn’t fault her for doing. She’d just had her world turned upside down, and it was due, partially, to Mac coming back to town in the first place.

  Instead, she moved in a slow sleepwalker’s shuffle to sit next to Royal. She accepted the arm he put around her shoulders, but Mac could tell she was seeing neither of them.

  “My biggest fear was losing her,” she said in a voice so low he almost couldn’t hear her. “And it’s so much worse than I ever thought it would be.”

  Mac knew it was possible that Trixie had lost her daughter. Just like he was pretty damn sure Cora would never look him in the eye again. They’d both gambled on the longest shot of all, that love would hold them together, that it would be enough.

  It wasn’t.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  A true friend always carries an extra stitch counter. – E.C.

  Cora had heard Mac roar down the driveway, and knew she’d never beat him to Royal. That was fine, actually. She had to figure out what to say, how to talk him into buying her land even if Mac disapproved. She’d gone over it again and again in her mind – there didn’t seem to be another option. She had no money to offer Olivia, nothing but her tiny farm to give. The chores took her longer than they normally did – every motion seemed weighted with meaning. She touched Mavis as she went into the pasture – how many more times would she feel that lovely lanolin, deep in the sheep’s wool? In the barn, she sat on the first bench she’d made, then shifted to lying on her back looking upward. Her rafters, dusty and beautiful, hung above her, the sun streaming through a knothole just below the roofline. How much longer would all this belong to her?

  Royal owed loyalty to Mac, sure. But maybe he’d see her side of the argument, and buy her land and house anyway. And if he didn’t, well, she could always put it on the open market. Prices were just turning around, and while she’d never get what it was worth ten years ago, at least it would be a nest egg for Olivia – she could sit on the money until college and then do whatever she wanted.

  As Cora filled the sheep’s troughs, she smiled, thinking of Olivia having a couple of her own horses. Maybe the girl would even buy a little piece of property close by. It pleased her to think of Olivia continuing to ride.

  Wheels crunched outside, and Cora held her breath until she could see that while it was a truck, it wasn’t his. She pushed aside the disappointment and felt relief disguised as a vague dizziness.

  Abigail MacArthur climbed out of the truck. “Hey, you! I came to check on the neckline of that pattern. I’m not sure if it’s going to work…”

  Cora pushed through the pasture gate, brushing off her hands, leaning in for a hug. But instead of a quick squeeze, their standard greeting, Cora shocked herself by holding on. She leaned into Abigail, who said, surprised, “Oh! Oh, sugar.”

  The hug was long and tight. The awful, painful tears that Cora felt start didn’t seem to want to stop. Abigail’s hand rubbed small circles in the middle of her back. Eliza used to do that wh
en she cried. The thought only made Cora cry harder until hiccups made her nose run and her head hurt.

  Finally the gasping tears slowed to a trickle. Cora snuffled and didn’t know where to look.

  “Come here,” Abigail led her by the hand to a bale of hay that Cora had tossed near the pasture gate yesterday. “Sit. Talk to me.”

  “I finished the sweater,” Cora choked out. “It’s gorgeous. I want to keep it… but I can’t afford to…”

  “No. Not knitting. Tell me what broke your heart.”

  The words made the hot tears well again, but Cora gulped them back and scrubbed her face with her dirty hands, knowing she’d probably only just added mud and God knew what else to her cheeks.

  “Okay,” said Abigail. “Is it Mac? That tall drink of hotness I met two weeks ago at the booth? He’s already made you feel like this? Honey, that was fast.”

  Cora shook her head. “It’s taken almost twenty years to make me feel this awful.”

  “Ahhh, yes. The torch. It still burned.”

  Even though she didn’t want to, even though she tried to keep them back, Cora said the words that would not stay behind her teeth. “I’ve always loved him.”

  “Then why on earth –”

  “He lied in just about the worst way imaginable.”

  “Oh. Well, that sucks. But everyone lies, right?”

  “Not about being the father of a child.”

  “Oh!” Abigail was quiet for a moment. She pulled out three long pieces of alfalfa and began to twist them. “No, I guess not. So he’s a dad? And you didn’t know?”

  “No. He’s not a father.”

  Abigail’s brows came together. “You’ve lost me.”

  Cora crossed her legs and turned to face Abigail. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Logan was Olivia Fletcher’s father.”

  Abigail dropped the braided hay. “Whoa. That I did not expect.”

  “Are you horrified?”

  “For you, sure. But I wasn’t married to him, and God knows I’ve learned that everyone has skeletons.”