“I’m not hungry,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Please,” he said, getting up. “You of all people have the least to apologize for.”
Chapter Nine
“There’s a path that leads toward the river park,” Cory said. “The same one you and Nathan were walking on the other Sunday. We could walk there for a while if you want.”
Matthew only nodded as he held open the heavy front door of the restaurant for Cory, waiting as she stepped past him.
A heavy silence hung between them as they walked from the parking lot and toward the river. Matthew wondered how he was supposed to respond. He had pushed and prodded her to this point. She had told him what her life with Zeke Smith was like. He heard the utter sincerity in her voice, the suppressed enmity.
So how was he supposed to balance what she told him with his own experiences with the charming Zeke Smith? Was he such a fool? How could he, Matthew McKnight, who prided himself on his integrity and his innate knowledge of human beings, have been so fooled by someone?
He glanced sidelong at Cory who walked alongside him, seemingly relaxed, thinking about what she had lived with, what she had told him.
And part of it was a result of what he and his father had done.
He wanted to believe her. Had to, if he wanted to pursue the feelings that seemed to change every time he saw her. It was the choice he had to make.
Because for better or worse, he knew every moment he spent with her, his feelings for her only grew, intensified. He didn’t know why, couldn’t explain it even to himself. He just knew even though she confused and frustrated him, when he was away from her, he felt lost. As if a center was gone from his life.
The path was a wide, graveled one, following the narrow river that wound through Stratton. The warmth of the day was still trapped between the trees.
“There’s supposed to be some decent fishing on this river,” Cory said quietly.
“I’ve never really gone fishing.”
She only nodded and they were silent once again.
He couldn’t stand it anymore, this distance between them. He didn’t know what he could say to bridge the gap, to make up for all that had happened in her life.
Give me the right words, Lord, show me what to do, he prayed. He had never felt unsure around a woman before, but he did around this one.
He caught her by the arm, carefully, gently.
She stopped and turned to him, her hands clasped together, the half light of the moon casting mysterious shadows on her face.
“You’re cold,” he said suddenly, feeling her chilled flesh under his hand.
“Not too bad.”
He could feel her faint resistance, the gentle pull she was exerting on his hand, but he didn’t let her go. Instead he drew her closer.
“I want to say I’m sorry, and I don’t know how to start,” he said quietly. He slid his hand up her arm, to her shoulder, placed his other hand on her other shoulder. “I want to fix all that has been wrong in your life, all the things that I did, all the pain that I caused.” He laughed shortly as if recognizing the enormity of what he was asking. “Cory, I don’t know how else to say this except I am so very sorry for what happened, for not believing you. I’m asking you to please forgive me.”
She had stopped her subtle resistance and now stood quietly in front of him. Her head was lowered, and her hands were still clasped tightly in front of her. He heard the slow intake of her breath, as if she sought control.
The moment drew out, extended and tense. Matthew wanted to urge the words out of her, anything to show that she acknowledged what he had just said. He realized in that moment that her words would change everything for him, would change everything between them.
So he waited.
Finally she looked up at him, and he was undone by the silvery line of tears down her cheeks.
“Oh, no,” he whispered. “Please, don’t cry.” He reached up, tracing her tears, drying them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Cory pressed her hands against her face and then he felt it. A gentle leaning toward him, a delicate acquiescence.
He slipped his arms around her, held her slender body close, pressed her head against his shoulder. He felt a fierce desire to protect her, to try to make right what was wrong.
“Please tell me you forgive me,” he whispered against her ear, her hair tangling against his mouth. “Please.”
She lifted her head then, looking up at him, her eyes shimmering with the remnants of her tears.
“I’ve spent so much time disliking you,” she said in a choked voice. “I’ve spent so much time fighting you, you have me all confused.”
Matthew closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. “I wish I could make things up to you,” he said quietly. “I wish I could fix what has been broken. I pray that God will forgive me as well for what happened.”
He felt her gentle sigh and then her arms moved from between them, crept around him, her hands pressed lightly against his back.
Her artless response triggered something in him. Without stopping to analyze, to think, he found her mouth in a gentle kiss. But as their lips met, slowly their kiss became more intense, their arms held each other harder.
Cory pulled away, turning her head to lay it against his shoulder again. “I feel so mixed-up,” she whispered, clinging to him. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Then don’t think,” he urged, running his hand up and down her back, as if coaxing her to listen. “Just let what happens, happen.”
He felt her sigh, rejoiced in the pressure of her hands on his back, her arms around him.
He rocked her lightly, repeating her name, unable to believe that she was truly here, in his arms, holding him, returning his embrace. He wished that time would stop, right here, right now.
Finally she drew back, pulled her hands away, pressed them lightly against his chest. He murmured his protest, but allowed her to step back.
“I should go,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering once. She looked up at him in entreaty, as if asking for his indulgence. “I have to work tomorrow.”
Matthew acknowledged her words with a light nod. He had to work tomorrow, too, but it was the last thing on his mind right now.
“So what happens now, Cory?”
“It’s not fair to ask that of me.” She tilted her head to one side as if examining him. “This is unfamiliar territory.”
He laughed shortly. “Is for me, too, Cory. I guess I was just hoping you would tell me what you want from me. What I’m allowed to give you.”
She drew in a shaky breath and blinked once. “How about some space?”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It was a cruel echo of the same words he had used with Tricia when he broke up with her. Space. A euphemism for Leave me alone.
“How much do you need?” He tried to keep the edgy frustration out of his voice, tried to realize what she had just done. But all he could think of was the disquiet that coiled inside him at what she said. He was afraid of losing her. Now, after they had shared their first embrace, their first kiss. The kiss he had wanted to give her the night he saw her walking through a crowd of overdressed young girls in her stark simplicity and her pride.
“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know if I can shift gears this quickly.” She hugged herself tighter and turned away.
He couldn’t stop himself and slipped his arm across her shoulder, drawing her alongside him. “I don’t want you to be confused,” he said. “I just want what’s best for you.”
Thankfully she allowed his embrace as they walked back the way they had come. But she kept her arms close to herself this time.
When they came to the parking lot, she withdrew from him.
In silence, he walked her to her car, waiting as she unlocked it, remembering the ball practice when he said he wanted to find out who she was, when he had so casually asked her out.
He hadn’t figured on what had happene
d to him tonight. The complete rearranging of his perceptions of Cory and, harder yet, of himself.
Just before she stepped into the car, Matthew held the door forestalling her.
“Cory,” he began, uncertain of what he wanted to say, only that he didn’t want her to leave without some kind of affirmation of what she felt for him. “I want to tell you, thanks.”
“For what?” She stood between the door and the car, one hand on the steering wheel as if ready to jump inside.
“For trusting me with your story.” He bit his lip, struggling to find the right words to say. The words that would put a smile on her face, would make her say that she cared for him. That he meant something to her. That she forgave him.
She smiled then, but it held a trace of sadness and regret. “Thanks for believing me,” she replied.
“I wish…” He stopped. Oh, Lord, the words. I need the right words. “I wish it could have been different. From the very start.”
Cory blinked and her smile faded as she understood what he meant.
Averting her eyes, she slipped into the car and tugged on the door.
Matthew closed it for her, his one hand resting on it, leaning over as he watched her start the car. He touched the window, as if trying to reach out to her.
Then she looked back over her shoulder and backed the car away.
Matthew watched her go, his emotions in a turmoil.
Go with her, Lord, he prayed. Let her see how I feel, what she means to me. Help her to accept it.
Because he knew that if she didn’t, his own life would never be the same.
Cory drove home, tears blurring her vision. And how was she supposed to act around Matthew now?
He had held her, had kissed her, had asked her forgiveness. No man had ever done that.
As she drove, she reached up, touching her lips with her fingers as if to relive the kiss they had shared.
It was just a kiss, she reminded herself. Just the kiss of a man who felt guilty, a way of making up for things that had gone so horribly wrong.
Yet she knew it was more than a kiss because Matthew is more than just a man. He had been her nemesis and at the same time the first man she had been attracted to. A man who created a confusion of emotions that she had never been able to reconcile. For even as Matthew had been condemning her to spending the weekends with Zeke, fighting her lawyer to assert Zeke’s rights, she herself had fought her own attraction to him.
Now, with a few words, the one barrier between them was dismantled. He had admitted what he had done was wrong, had acknowledged the pain Zeke had inflicted.
I wish things could have been different. From the start. She remembered what he said about prom, how he had admired her and her tears flowed afresh. The evening she had associated with one of her greatest humiliations had suddenly been turned around, changed and renewed.
She pulled up in front of her home, laid her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.
I need your help, Lord. He’s asked me to forgive him, told me he believes me. He’s been the opponent, the enemy so long I don’t know if I can do it.
Pulling in a low sigh, she got out of the car and into the now quiet house. A small light burned on the porch, and the light above the stove was lit. Cory checked on her mother, who lay fast asleep.
Relieved, she walked to her own bedroom, changed and then got into bed. She picked up her Bible, looking at it, wondering what she wanted to find.
Turning to the back, she looked up references to the word forgive.
With a gentle crackle of the pages, she turned to the story of Joseph. When his brothers asked for his forgiveness for what they had done, he had forgiven them. “‘You intended to harm me,’” she read, “‘But God intended it for good.’” Matthew hadn’t really intended to harm her, had only been doing what he was hired to do. He had been as fooled by Zeke as most of the people in Riverview. Could she fault him for that?
She turned to Luke 6, starting at verse 37 and read, “‘Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.’”
How could she not forgive him? How could she say to him that what he had done was greater than many of the things she had done to others, to God? Could she stand innocent before anyone and claim that she had never done wrong, had never hurt anyone, had never caused pain and tears?
She covered her face with her hands, entreating the Lord to forgive her unforgiving heart. As you forgave me, help me to forgive, Lord, she prayed. Help me to forgive.
As she prayed it was as if a burden slowly slipped from her shoulders. She didn’t have to fight what she felt for Matthew. It wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t betraying her mother, herself. God.
Then, following behind that, came a rush of love so profound, so pure that it almost made her laugh aloud. Free, she was finally free of anger, of hate.
Of Zeke Smith.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
Matthew stood by the window of his office, staring unseeing at the trees outside. He had been gone all morning to another town, sitting in on an environmental hearing for one of Nathan’s clients. When he had come back, he stopped at the restaurant eager to see Cory, only to find out that she had called in to say she wasn’t going to be working. He felt it would be rather presumptuous to call her so he hadn’t.
He wanted to talk to her, to go over what she had told him last night.
He kept hearing Cory’s voice, kept hearing what she said. Some of what she said last night wasn’t new, but most of it went against all his own perceptions of Zeke. He couldn’t seem to get his head around it.
He had never seen the side of Zeke Smith that Cory spoke of. Had never been on the receiving end of his anger. For him and his father, Zeke only gave the best, the most charming performance.
And was that all it was? A performance? Not the real man?
He felt betrayed and as confused as Cory said she was. He hated to think that he had been duped and recognized that his pride was as involved as his emotions.
He closed his eyes, resting his tired head against the cool glass. He hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours last night. Over and over he relived what Cory told him, what had happened between them.
The computerized beeping of the phone broke into Matthew’s reverie.
He snagged the receiver, tucking it under his chin. “Matthew McKnight here.”
“Hello, son. How are you?”
“Hi, Dad.” Matthew dropped into his chair and pulled a pen out of its holder, catching himself glancing at the clock on the wall. A lawyer’s habit. Check the time, bill the file. He put the pen down. “What can I do for you?”
His father’s heavy sigh was uncharacteristic, as was the slight pause and Matthew wondered if he was going to get one of the when-are-you-coming-home lectures his father had been doling out lately. He braced himself, ready to defend what he was doing. He liked Stratton and working with Nathan. He liked the low-key atmosphere in the office and if he were pushed, he would have to admit that right now he could stay. For an indefinite period of time.
But much of that hinged on Cory.
“An interesting turn of events just came up,” Clifton said quietly. “I had a woman come into the office yesterday afternoon with what she claimed was a handwritten copy of the last will and testament of Zeke Smith.”
“A holograph will?” Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as his mind raced over the implications for Cory.
“Appears that way.”
“Are you sure she’s on the level?” Matthew asked, fiddling with the papers on his desk.
“She handed me the paper, and I checked it against other notes from Zeke I had on file,” Clifton said. “Unfortunately at first glance, it appears legitimate.”
Matthew shoved the file folder aside, spun his chair to glare out the window. “You’re going to fight this, are
n’t you?” he asked, his voice clipped.
“Of course I am.”
“I practically guaranteed Cory that the will was legitimate, that there would be no hindrances.”
“It’s okay, son. I’m not going to let this go.”
Matthew shoved his hand through his hair, wondering how Cory was going to react to this particular piece of information. He knew he was falling in love with Cory. Knew that he needed her, wanted her.
He understood her bewilderment. If she found out about this new will, her precarious emotions would veer the wrong way.
He thought of Cory as a young girl clutching a doll, going to the cash register to buy it and then having her dreams dashed.
Zeke had done the same thing now. It was as if, from the grave, he had to give one final twist to the knife.
And as Matthew analyzed this thought, he realized that any doubts he might have had over what Cory had said about Zeke, were once and for all dissipated.
“Even if we fight it, the proceeds will have to come out of the estate,” Matthew said heavily.
“I know. I’m going to try to expedite this as quickly as possible.”
“What’s the date on it?”
“A year ago. The will I filed is, unfortunately, four years old.”
“How come we never heard of her before?”
“That’s one of my arguments, however I haven’t been in contact with Zeke a couple of years now. Anything could have happened in that time.”
Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. And a heartache. How was he going to tell Cory?
Why tell her at all? The thought was tantalizing. However, if this woman’s claim was legitimate, sooner or later it would come out. For now, though, he opted for later.
“Matthew, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Matthew answered. “I’m okay. Keep me posted. And if there’s anything I can do on this end, let me know.”
“Well, you’ll have to keep Cory apprised of what is happening.”
He knew he had to. But not yet. Not while their relationship, if he could be so presumptuous to call it that, was so new and fragile. Matthew had been the one to encourage her to take the estate and now things were transpiring almost exactly as she said they would.
A Family At Last Page 11
