“Well, I’ll be thinking of you. Praying for you even.”
“Thanks, but you’ve got some strong competition,” Cory said with a sigh. “According to Matthew McKnight, he found me by praying. So you’re up against someone who argues with earthly judges for a living and talks to God on the side.”
“He’s a Christian?”
“Claims to be. Goes to church. At least he did when I was younger. Of course, so did my stepfather.”
“Well, I’ll be praying nonetheless,” Kelsey said. “You take care.” With an encouraging smile, Kelsey got out of the car.
As soon as she did, the front door of the house was flung open and a young boy of five barreled down the stairs, throwing himself at Kelsey. Kelsey’s son, Chris.
An older couple stood at the top of the stairs, watching the scene with benevolent smiles. Kelsey’s parents.
Cory rested her arms on the steering wheel of her car, watching with a tremor of envy. Cory had often wished she had what her friend had.
A home where she was supported by two healthy parents who loved each other.
Once Joyce had been strong, but for the past ten years, since Joyce first became ill, Cory had to be the strong one, had to be the one who made the decisions and, later, the money. It took a number of years before the correct diagnosis was made. Fibromyalgia. But all that did was give them a name for the debilitating pain, headaches and lack of sleep.
Sometimes the responsibilities could weigh so heavily on her, Cory didn’t know if she could go on. Then her prayers became desperate. Somehow, God always found a way for her to keep on.
“And now you have to keep going again,” she reprimanded herself, as she waved to Kelsey and pulled away from the curb. “You’re not done for the day.”
She spun the car around and as she drove toward the park, couldn’t stop the sudden racing of her heart. Couldn’t stop the tug of fear that she resolutely blocked out each day. The corner that Zeke Smith occupied. Permanently.
At times she would catch a glimpse of a man’s profile, a swagger, an arrogant tone and the fear would come out of its space and twist through her mind.
Cory thought of Kelsey praying for her as she parked beside Matthew’s shiny car. The thought gave her strength. If Zeke had already found them, she and her mother would need all the help they could get.
Cory shut off the engine, closed her eyes as she took a steadying breath, sent up her own prayer, then got out.
As soon as she straightened, she saw him. He sat at a picnic table, his tailored suit an incongruity beside the rough wood of the table.
He stood as Cory approached. The sun, filtered through the trees above him, dappled his hair and face.
Deep within her, Cory felt the same faint brush of attraction she had felt in the restaurant. Enemy or not, it wasn’t hard to see why Kelsey thought he was appealing.
It was something Cory had fought from the first time she had seen him.
She could still do it, thought Matthew as Cory walked across the grass toward him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.
Just the way she’d angle her head, that slightly sideways grin that wasn’t quite a smile, and he felt, once again, as if he’d been measured and found wanting.
He didn’t know why it should matter to him, he thought, standing up as she got closer. He’d known Cory since high school, when he first started working for his father as a student lawyer.
She was attractive as a young girl. Now, her face was narrower, her dark-brown eyes were thickly lashed. She was stunning.
As she came closer she pulled her hands out of the pockets of her dark pants and lifted her chin.
“Hello,” she said, her eyes flicking over him with easy detachment.
“Hello again, Cory,” he replied evenly. “Thanks for coming.”
She lifted her shoulders with a graceful movement that acknowledged his comment and dismissed it at the same time. But as she sat, Matthew saw a combination of challenge and fear flicker in the depths of her eyes. Then just as quickly, it was gone. He could have avoided this meeting. Could have told his secretary to contact Cory. But some undefinable need to see her again made him want to do this in person.
“So what did you need to tell me?” she asked, folding her hands on the table, looking anywhere but at him.
Trust her to get straight to the point.
“It took me quite a while to find you,” he said as he settled on the bench across from her.
“My mother and I have only lived here for nine months,” she said, her voice flat, expressionless. “Zeke hasn’t found us yet. Either you’re better than him, or he did all the legwork and decided to send the hired help.”
Matthew held her indignant gaze. During his career he had held his own against hostile witnesses, angry judges and perturbed lawyers. Somehow this one woman always unnerved him.
Then, as her words sunk in, he realized that she didn’t know. Oh but how could she have? He had a difficult enough time tracking her down.
Matthew looked away and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. I didn’t count on this, Lord, he prayed, blowing out his breath. I assumed she knew. How am I going to tell her?
Matthew lifted his head, holding Cory’s now puzzled gaze. He knew her well enough to know that with her, the direct approach was the best. “Zeke Smith is dead,” he said quietly.
Cory looked at him, then blinked. Slowly. “What did you say?”
Matthew leaned forward and took a deep breath. This was harder than he thought. “Your stepfather is dead,” he said, almost wincing at the harshness of the word. “He passed away three weeks ago.”
“How did he…?” Cory’s words drifted off as she lifted a hand and let it fall.
“He died of a heart attack.”
“Heart attack,” Cory repeated, looking away, pressing her fingers to her mouth. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, shaking her head as she lowered her hand.
“Though my father is the executor of the estate, we found out a few days after it happened. He was living in Wakeley, Southern Alberta. I’m sorry.”
“We didn’t.” Cory just stared straight ahead, as if absorbing the news. “We didn’t know at all. My mom and Zeke have been divorced for many years. How could we know?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
Silence lay heavy between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind in the trees above.
Cory covered her eyes with her hand. “May God have mercy on him,” she said softly. She stayed that way as time stretched between them.
In spite of the animosity that always flared in her eyes whenever they met, he wanted to sit beside her, to comfort her somehow. But he resisted the urge, knowing that Cory would rebuff him. As she had before.
Finally, Cory raised her head, her expression noncommittal. “I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way to Stratton just to tell me that Zeke died?”
She was astute, he thought. As always. “You’re right. I also come to tell you about your stepfather’s will. My father is your father’s executor. Zeke has named you as chief beneficiary in his most recent will.”
“What did you say?” Cory exclaimed.
“Your stepfather left everything he owns to you.”
She just stared at him.
“I have a copy here that I need you to look at.”
Cory ignored the papers he was shuffling. “What did he leave to my mother?”
“She’s not named in the will.”
“How he must have hated her.” Cory shook her head slowly, as if trying to absorb what he just told her.
“I don’t think it was hate,” Matthew replied. “It was concern for you that made him do this.”
Cory said nothing as she played with the ends of her dark hair, twisting them around her finger. “My stepfather was never concerned about either of us,” she said quietly, finally looking at the papers in front of Matthew. “Everything he ever did was to show my mother or me that he
had control. That’s what was important to him. Control.”
Matthew didn’t want to argue with her. Not now. He was sure her emotions weren’t stable. It must be a shock to her to hear about her stepfather’s death from him.
He knew Zeke Smith and all he had done for Cory, a girl who wasn’t even his biological daughter. Matthew had listened to Zeke’s sorrow over Cory’s lack of desire to see him and how he longed to help her.
So he said nothing, only turned the papers that she needed to sign toward her.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
“You look over the financial statements and the list of assets and sign that all is satisfactory. That’s the first step for you. My father was executor of the will, so it’s all in order.”
Her dark-brown eyes flicked over the paper with seeming disinterest, then she looked back at him. “So how did you find me, really?”
“A bit of legal help. We had placed an ad in a magazine that we knew all lawyers get. We got an answer from Nathan Stanley who lives here and who used to be an associate of my father and grandfather. It was an answer to a prayer,” he said sincerely.
“An answer to a prayer,” Cory repeated. “Well, it seems God has a sense of humor. I’ve been praying for the exact opposite.”
Matthew let the comment slide and laid a pen beside the papers she needed to sign.
Cory tapped her thumbs together, pulling in one corner of her mouth while she looked down at the papers. Then she sat back and slowly looked up at Matthew. “You know, this sounds too good to be true.”
“Pardon me?”
Cory picked up the papers, glancing over the contents. Then she laid them down. “I still can’t believe that Zeke Smith is permanently out of our lives. You’ll have to understand that this is a shock.” She gently pushed the papers toward Matthew. “But I don’t want anything from him.”
Matthew’s mouth almost fell open. “Excuse me,” he said, hardly believing what she had just said. “Are you saying you don’t want to accept what he’s giving you?”
“That’s right.”
“This is most unusual.”
“Well, I guess there’s always a first.”
“You might want to think on this for a while, Cory. I wouldn’t make any rash judgments. Your stepfather’s estate wasn’t enormous, but it is still a substantial sum.”
“How substantial?”
Matthew almost laughed. Money always got people in the end.
Matthew turned to one of the pages and turned it back to her. “It lists the amount here.”
Cory tilted her head, studying the paper, her hair slipping across her cheek. She pushed it away with a graceful motion, shaking her head. “Looks too good to be true.” She glanced up at Matthew. “I know we’ll never see eye to eye on who and what my stepfather was. But I have taken enough from Zeke Smith in my life, and not in the way you think. I promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t take anything from him anymore.” She waved her hand at the papers that still lay on the table. “I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust you,” she said. She held his eyes a moment.
“It’s a legal will, drawn up by my father and witnessed. As far as we can see your father’s estate is in order. My father should know. He’s dealt with enough estates.” Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he was angered at her implication that his father was a shoddy lawyer.
Cory just smiled. “Maybe. But I’ve learned the very hard way that with Zeke Smith nothing, and I repeat nothing, is as it appears to be. He had you fooled.” She looked up at him, her eyes holding his. “I’m sorry you made this trip for nothing.”
Then, without a second glance at him or the papers still lying on the table, she got up and strode back to her car, her head held high.
Matthew picked up the papers, wondering what he was going to do. His father couldn’t move on the estate until the papers were signed, or Cory had stated how she wanted the estate to be disposed of.
He had to stifle the surge of impatience. His meeting with Cory had not proceeded as he had hoped. He didn’t have time for this. He had come to Stratton for two reasons. To see Cory and to represent his family at Nathan Stanley’s anniversary. He only had a few days and he had to go back to his busy practice in the city. And an ex-girlfriend who didn’t want to acknowledge the end of the relationship.
Matthew watched Cory get into her car and back out of the parking stall, shock vying with anger at the abrupt ending to their meeting and her implied insult. What a stubborn, frustrating girl.
Correction, he thought. Cory was no girl. Not anymore.
If anything, she had become more attractive in the intervening years. And even more frustrating. Trust her to make what he thought would be a simple job, harder.
Chapter Two
“Zeke is dead?”
Cory held her mother by the shoulders, gently easing her down onto the couch.
“I just found out, Mom,” she said. “He died a few weeks ago.”
Joyce raised her hands, as if to do something, then let them fall uselessly into her lap. “I can’t believe this.”
“Neither can I,” Cory said softly. When Matthew told her, it was as if it weren’t real. Hadn’t happened. Repeating his words to her mother, seeing her response made it certain.
Joyce took a deep breath, slowly inhaling, settling herself. “Then it’s over,” she said quietly. “The running, the looking back.” She looked up at Cory, shaking her head. “It’s over.”
“Yes.” Cory sat beside her mother holding her chilled hands between her own. “It is truly over.” Then, in spite of her feelings for Zeke Smith, in spite of the pain and misery he caused her mother and her, Cory felt her face tighten, her throat thicken and she closed her eyes against the hot tears.
“Oh, hon,” her mother said. “Don’t cry. Please.”
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Cory sniffed, palming the tears from her cheeks. “I have disliked him for so many years…been scared of him….” She drew in a shaky breath, facing her mother. “I never thought I would shed any tears over him.”
“It’s a mixture of feelings, I’m sure,” Joyce said, stroking Cory’s hair back from her face. “Relief may be part of it.”
Cory nodded, smiling at her mother in spite of the turmoil of her thoughts and feelings. “But it’s not completely over yet, Mom. Matthew McKnight came to tell me that Zeke named me as chief beneficiary of his estate.”
Joyce blinked, stared at Cory, then laughed shortly. “He put you in his will?”
“Not only put me, Mother. Left me everything. It’s a substantial sum.” She said the words with a measure of disdain, remembering Matthew’s intonation. As if the size of the estate would make a difference to her.
Joyce shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe he did that.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “After all the things he did to you, all the tricks he pulled. The deceit, the maneuvering…all to try to bend you to his will…” Joyce stopped and Cory could see her mentally counting, trying to stave off another attack of pain. And when Joyce took another slow breath, Cory could see that she had succeeded. Her mother’s fibromyalgia attacks made her tired and left Cory feeling utterly helpless.
Joyce turned to Cory then, smiling her reassurance. “It’s okay, Cory.” She lay her head back, closing her eyes.
“You should go to bed.”
“I will. But first tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t trust Zeke’s action. I told Matthew that.”
Joyce smiled wanly. “You’re right not to trust him. But I don’t expect young Matthew McKnight would understand that, let alone his father.”
Cory heard the rising anger in her mother’s voice and stroked her arm, to try to settle her down. Matthew’s news was causing more distress than he would ever know, she thought. It brought back emotions and feelings that both she and her mother had guarded and banked for so many years, and it was frustrating how easily
those feelings came back. “He seemed quite surprised. Told me to think about it,” Cory said, glancing around the small living room, taking in the worn furniture, the marks on the coffee table. In spite of all she knew, she had a moment of second thoughts. “The money might come in handy….”
“Don’t do this to yourself, Cory,” Joyce countered, turning to face her daughter. “Don’t let him make you hope. He may be dead, but somehow he’ll find a way to disappoint you. You should know that by now.”
Cory nodded, surprised that she had entertained the faint possibility. How many times did she have to be disappointed to realize that anything Zeke touched would be tainted?
Joyce sighed lightly. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. This may seem hard to understand but at one time I loved him.” She was quiet a moment and Cory wondered what was going through her head. Regret? Sorrow? Her mother certainly lived through enough of both.
“You did marry him,” Cory said. “I’m sure you had a reason for that.”
“He was a charming man. He played that part well. And I wanted a home for you.” Joyce stopped abruptly. She reached out, taking Cory’s hand again. “You’ve been a blessing to me, Cory. I’m thankful that though I had to give up your brothers I was able to keep and support you. That much I can thank Zeke for.”
Cory was quiet a moment, then broached the subject that off and on came into her mind. “Do you ever think of the boys, Mom?”
Joyce gave Cory a bemused smile.
“Once in a while I wonder where they are and if they are happy.” Joyce ran her thumb over Cory’s knuckles. “When that social worker at the women’s shelter recommended I give the boys up, I was devastated.” She squeezed Cory’s hand. “But what could I do? Your father was dead. I had nowhere to go. No money. I wanted only good things for my boys. I just wish Zeke would have let me try to find them.” She laughed a harsh laugh. “Of course I was so ashamed of what I had to do I told them I wanted the file sealed. I couldn’t find them, and they couldn’t find me.”
“Maybe, if the will is real, we might have some money to hire someone to go looking for them,” Cory said carefully, as if exploring the idea.
A Family At Last Page 2
