“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be praying for a positive result.” Matthew said goodbye and reaching around, dropped the phone in the cradle. He dropped his head back and dragged his hands over his face. Oh, Lord. We could have done without this particular mess, he prayed. How am I going to deal with this?
He turned back to the desk, wondering how he was going to concentrate on his work for the rest of the day. It was only three o’clock. In a couple of hours he had to head to ball practice.
And Cory.
His heart quickened at the thought and he knew that for now, he wasn’t going to tell her about the will. He was going to wait and see what feat of lawyering his dad could pull off to head off this particular disaster.
There was no way they could have foreseen another will, but he was sure she was going to once again feel the sting of betrayal.
And he was the one who put her in that position. Had made her, once again, vulnerable to Zeke Smith.
A wave of inexpressible anger flowed through him. He thought of Cory, at the mercy of this man. How could he and his father have been so wrong?
A slight knock at the door made him look up. It was Nathan.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Of course,” Matthew said, getting up and pulling a chair out for him. “This is your place, after all.”
Nathan shrugged as he sat down in the chair. “My building. Your office.” He leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. “You’ve been here a few weeks now. I just thought I’d see how things are going.”
Matthew smiled, glad for the momentary reprieve from his circling thoughts. “They’re going well. I like the work. There’s more variety than I thought there would be in a small town.”
“Well we have our marital intrigues and wheelers and dealers just like any big place like Riverview,” Nathan said with a grin. “By the way, I got a compliment from Dick and Edna Thachuk on the incorporation you handled for their company. They are quite pleased with some of the advice you gave them. I have to confess I wouldn’t have thought of it.”
“It wasn’t difficult. Something I had done for another client in Riverview,” Matthew said casually, shrugging the compliment away, even though it made him feel good. Too often in his work in Riverview it was complaints he heard. Never, to his knowledge, compliments.
“You seem a lot more relaxed than you were when you first came,” Nathan added. “I think this town agrees with you.”
“I like it here,” he agreed, toying with his pen. “I like the pace of the work.”
“And the restaurant is just across the road. Very convenient for a bachelor. And that Cory is such a fun waitress.”
Matthew hoped his expression hadn’t changed, but he couldn’t seem to stop the silly quickening of his heart at her name. He didn’t reply.
“That’s fine,” Nathan said with a grin. “Try to keep your secrets. Hard to do in a town this size. I understand you went out for supper last night with her.”
“Really?”
“Yes. At the Prairie Inn.”
Matthew shook his head, unable to stop the smile that teased his mouth. “And what did we order?”
“Oh, come now. Even in Stratton we recognize that some things are private.” Nathan smiled again. “Actually I had to deliver a message to you from Cory. Said something about not being able to come to practice tonight.”
“Did she say why?”
“Nope. Just wouldn’t be able to come.”
Matthew acknowledged the information, chewing his lip. Was she trying to avoid him? Had he pushed things too hard last night? “Thanks, Nathan,” he said, distracted by his thoughts.
“If you want to know, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you stopped by her house later on.” Nathan smirked, a man totally in the know.
Matthew laughed lightly. “I don’t even know where she lives.”
“West of Main Street, across from the feed mill.”
“How do you know?”
“No secrets in Stratton. Remember?” Nathan stood up and stretched. “Well, I’m done for the day. Don’t stay too long.” He held Matthew’s gaze. “And check up on Cory. She might be sick, you know.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“I’ll send you the bill.” Nathan closed the door behind himself.
Matthew grabbed the file he had so angrily shoved away, flipped a few pages and picked up his pen to finish up. But he couldn’t concentrate. He wondered if Cory was sick, as Nathan had intimated.
He thought of the kiss they had shared. How she had drifted into his embrace.
Once again he prayed. Once again he asked the Lord for wisdom, for patience. He asked for good things for Cory, who’d had to deal with so much in her young life.
He felt a surge of protectiveness, a desire to surround her with only good things.
With love.
Chapter Ten
Cory dropped onto the couch and swung her feet up. She felt drained and exhausted, but at least her mother was sleeping peacefully for now.
She glanced at the clock. Only five-thirty. She should get up and make something to eat but it seemed pointless for just one person.
For now all she wanted to do was sleep. She had laundry to fold and a few shirts to iron, but she was too tired.
Just a few moments, she promised herself, curling up. Then she could get at the rest of the work.
She closed her eyes, but when she did she saw the same thing, felt the same thing she had all day.
Matthew’s head bending toward her, his soft lips touching hers.
She hugged herself, a feeling of yearning shivering through her. Last night she had come to a turning point, a realization that her feelings for Matthew were real, true and, above all, allowed. She had looked forward with a child’s anticipation to the day, to seeing Matthew in the restaurant.
This morning it had been almost agonizing to find out that her mother had the flu. That she needed Cory to stay home.
She closed her eyes, easily summoning Matthew’s features, his face. Then, with the memory of his sea-green eyes holding hers, she slowly drifted away from the reality of a sick mother and the tangle of her own bemused thoughts into a place full of warmth, security and love.
Matthew’s arms.
“Cory? Cory? Hello?”
Woven through the dream was the sound of his voice. Concerned, curious.
The voice grew louder, interspersed with the sound of knocking. She struggled to separate it from her dreams. Was someone here? She heard the sound of a door close in the front hallway and she fought to open her eyes, to wake up.
Slowly she sat up, looking around at the room suffused with early evening light. Had she been dreaming? Was she still?
“Cory, can I come in?”
Her heart tripped, then started up again, faster than before as she realized she was wide-awake and she recognized the voice.
It was Matthew, and he was in her home.
She ran her hands over her unruly hair, loosened from its ponytail, straightened her T-shirt, tucking it back into her faded blue jeans, then got up.
“Come in,” she said, clearing a throat still thick with sleep. As she spoke, she saw a shadow move in the front hall. Then Matthew stood in the doorway of the living room. He wore the same baggy T-shirt he had the first time they had coached together, the same faded and worn blue jeans. His hair was wind-tossed, and his eyes were concerned.
“Hi, there,” he said softly. “I missed you at ball practice.”
Cory fought to pull herself together, to think coherently. “I left a message with Nathan. Didn’t he tell you?”
“He did.” Matthew’s eyes held hers. “You weren’t at the restaurant, either.”
Her heart gave a little jump at the thought that he had gone looking for her, had missed her.
“My mom has the flu so I had to stay home to help her.” She couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt to straighten it. She felt unkempt and
unready to meet him.
“And you’re okay?” Matthew asked, his eyes searching her face, as if looking for evidence.
“I’m just tired.”
His smile sent a shiver of warmth through her as he took a step nearer. “Did you have supper?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been too busy.” Why was she talking about such prosaic things when the man who had lingered in her dreams, who had taken up so much of her emotions the past few days was standing in her home?
“Do you want me to make you something?” he asked.
“No, no. That’s okay. I’m really not hungry.” She didn’t want him going through their kitchen. Bad enough that he was in their house, had seen where and how they lived. She couldn’t help but glance behind her at the couch she had just lain on. It looked as if it still held the imprint of her body, it sagged so badly. “I can make you a cup of tea or coffee, though,” she said, turning her attention back to him.
“Tea sounds good. I drank too much coffee already.” He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans, rocking back on the heels of his running shoes. “You sure you don’t want any help? I do know how to boil water.”
“I’m sure.” She retreated to the kitchen, put the kettle on, pulled out a package of cookies, keeping herself busy in there while she sensed him wandering around the living room. She tried not to let herself see their home through his eyes. It was plain, worn and veering on shabby.
Please, Lord, she prayed, I don’t want to be ashamed. I know it shouldn’t matter. It means so much to me that he thinks well of me.
The water boiled. She made tea and brought it out on a tray with her best mugs. Then, taking a deep breath, sending up another prayer for courage, she walked into the living room.
Matthew turned as she entered the small room. He was looking at a group of her school pictures.
“Quite a metamorphosis,” he said with a teasing grin.
Cory groaned as she set the tray down on the low coffee table. “Mom insisted on not only buying my school picture every year, she also hangs them up everywhere we go.”
She set out the cups, the sugar and the plate then glanced up at him, discomfited to find him looking at her, his expression suddenly serious.
“How often did you and your mother move around?”
Cory held the tray in front of her, like a shield. She heard a tone of sorrow in his voice, suffused with regret. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Matthew,” she said quietly. “I want you to know that.”
“Please tell me.”
Cory bit her lip and then slowly shook her head. “That’s all in the past. Zeke Smith doesn’t have a hold over me or my mother anymore.” She laughed lightly. “And now, thanks to his will, I can afford to make a few plans.” She smiled brightly at him, wondering why he wasn’t smiling back. “So, it doesn’t matter how often, or where,” she continued. “I will tell you, though, that we’ve been through a lot of furniture.”
She wanted to say that. To let him know that their present situation didn’t result from poor money management, but extenuating circumstances.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that every time we moved, we were in a bit of a hurry and often left the big stuff behind.” She shrugged lightly, as if to dismiss it. “Too hard to pack into a station wagon.”
“Cory…”
She held up her hand. “Don’t. Please.” She gestured to the couch. “Now, come and drink some tea and have some delicious cookies, which I bought all by myself.”
He smiled a slow, wistful smile. “You are really someone special, Cory,” he said, his voice quiet.
“I’m afraid you’ll find that I’m frighteningly ordinary,” she said. “Now, let’s have a cup of tea.”
He conceded the end of that particular conversation and sat on the couch beside her. He leaned back and then sat up again.
“What’s this?” He pulled out an old, worn photo album that had been lying on the couch, then set his mug down. “Pictures. Of you?” he asked with a slow grin.
“No. Not really.” She tried to laugh, but couldn’t. It seemed the entire history of her life would be shown to this man one way or the other. “I found that when I was in tenth grade. I didn’t even know Mom had it up until then. It’s of my brothers.” She took her mug and tucking her legs up under her, curled up in her corner of the couch.
“Brothers?” Matthew frowned as he carefully opened the hard brown cover. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”
“It wasn’t something Mom wanted to be common knowledge. She hadn’t even told Zeke.” Cory held her mug tightly between both hands, her elbows pressed against her sides. What would he think of her mother now?
Matthew was silent as he turned pages, the protective paper rustling. Cory just about knew the album by heart, the faded color pictures, cracked with age, but carefully pasted on the pages. He turned back to the first page.
“That’s my mother and my real father,” Cory said as he glanced up at her questioningly. “Andrew Luciuk. He died when my mother was about two months pregnant with me. He’s the father of my brothers as well, in case you’re wondering.”
Matthew turned the page to the meager collection of pictures of two boys. “And these boys. What happened to them?”
Cory swallowed down a knot of pain. Why did it bother her now? Why should it? Was it because she knew of Matthew’s very intact and very secure family? Was it because it mattered so much to her what he thought of her, of her mother?
She took a careful sip of tea and prayed a quick prayer. “You are going to be really sick and tired of the brief history of Cory Luciuk by tonight,” she said with a light attempt at dispelling the growing heavy atmosphere.
“I doubt that,” he replied. “Tell me.”
And once again, Cory was bringing out details of her life that she and her mother had kept to themselves. “My mom was expecting me when my father died. My father had no life insurance and hadn’t worked for about half a year, and my mother had never really worked. The boys were very young. Mom had absolutely no money so she and the boys were evicted from their apartment. She had no family to help her out. Things were pretty dismal. Then she found out she was expecting me. She went to Social Services to see what they could do. A social worker encouraged her to put the boys up for adoption. It was an extreme measure, but by that time she had already been unsuccessfully looking for work for about four months. She had lived in a shelter the whole time. She didn’t know where to turn. So she gave them up. She did it out of love for the boys.” Cory paused, feeling anew her mother’s pain at that irrevocable decision. “She wasn’t told where they went or what happened to them. Open adoptions weren’t encouraged at that time. She was easily intimidated then and when the social worker told her that it would be better if she stayed out of the boys’ lives, that’s what she did. I don’t know how she managed to get through the next year. She never talks about it. She even contemplated giving me up to give me a chance at a better life. But I guess things turned around for her, because she got a job, a place to stay and then she met Zeke Smith.”
“And you don’t know anything about your brothers?”
Cory stared down at the brown liquid in her mug, swirling it around. “I know their first names and dates of birth, but that’s it.” She couldn’t look up at him. “I didn’t know where to start looking. How to find them. I tried off and on, but it’s so hard to get any information. I never stuck with it long enough to find anyone in any department willing to help.”
Matthew said nothing, only looked a little more closely at the pictures then angled the album toward Cory. “Cute kids. What are their names?”
Cory put her mug down and moved a little closer. “This one with the dark hair and the serious look is Jake. This other one with the mischievous grin is Simon.” She touched the pictures gently, as if trying to breathe life into the figures she had only known as pictures. “When I first saw the pictures I used to pretend that one day t
hey would come charging into my life to save me and my mom….” she paused, realizing who she had prayed for these brothers to rescue her from. Zeke. Clifton. Matthew.
“And they never came, I gather,” Matthew said quietly, turning to face her.
She laughed lightly. “No. They never did.”
Matthew set the album down, his elbows resting on his knees. “And you don’t know anything more?”
“No.”
Matthew angled his head toward her, his chin resting on his shoulder, his eyes holding hers. “And what about now, Cory? Do you still wish they would come into your life and rescue you?”
Cory felt the full impact of his gaze, heard the import of his question. She looked quickly down at her now cold tea and shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Matthew turned to her, gently took the cup from her hands. He drew in a slow breath as he toyed with her fingers. “Last night you told me you wanted space, time. I know that twenty-four hours is hardly enough.” He squeezed her hands, his eyes intent on hers. “I’ve been thinking about you. About me. About our complex history. And about what I’d meant when I told you that I wished things had been different from the start.” He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across it.
Cory swallowed at the sight of his head bent over her hands, the touch of his lips on them. “At the prom?” she asked, licking her lips nervously.
“No. Before that.” He looked up at her, a sad smile hovering over his lips. “I was waiting for my dad at the courthouse. When I saw you I didn’t know who you were, even how old you were, but I couldn’t avoid the pull of attraction you had. You seemed so old, so mature. So poised.”
“That was a long time ago,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t find out how old you were until my dad told me. I felt like a reprobate, but I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off you.”
Cory smiled at his confession. “How old were you then?”
“About twenty-two.” He smiled ruefully. “I was articling for my father that year. Student lawyer and a know-it-all, and I fell for a teenage girl with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue.”
A Family At Last Page 12
