Cory couldn’t stop the flush that warmed her neck. “I used to have some pretty smart remarks, I’ll admit.”
“I remember one comment you threw out at me. It was pretty funny. Even then,” he continued.
“Please,” she begged. “Like you said, I was young. I didn’t have a lot of defenses. Mouthing off was all I could do.”
But he kept on. “You came out of the courtroom, stopped right in front of me and said, ‘If it wasn’t for lawyers we wouldn’t need them,’ then turned around and marched away. My dad was dumbfounded, Zeke was furious and I had to bite my lip from laughing. Once I got it, mind you.” He stopped, his hands caressing hers. He took a slow breath, as if for courage and Cory looked up at him, tension coiling in her stomach at the somber tone of his voice.
He sighed, reached out and lightly touched her cheek. “I’d like to see more of you.”
Cory felt each word press down on her mind, permeating her very being, slowly pushing away her flimsy defenses. She closed her eyes, as if to hear them better, as if to hold them closer.
His fingers lingered on her face, tracing her features as she sat stock-still, light shivers dancing up and down her spine at his gentle caress.
She turned her face toward his hand, reaching up to hold it against her cheek, a peculiar sorrow mixed with serenity.
“I know you wanted space,” he continued, his voice quiet, intimate. “I’m not really giving you that, am I?”
Cory pulled away, still holding his hand. “Last night was…” She shook her head, reaching, struggling to find the right words. “It was difficult and yet not.” She turned his hand over, lightly tracing the lines in his palm. “I was overwhelmed and didn’t quite know what to think and how to sort everything out. I’ve always liked things set out in black and white. From the start you’ve been a grey area to me.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was soft, hesitant.
She looked up at him, his hand pressed between hers. “I remember hating what you did, and then looking at you and wishing that someday you would smile at me. There were times I honestly thought I was crazy. Like I was betraying my mom, betraying myself.” She laughed lightly. “I think I’ve always liked you. At the prom, after I told you to get lost, I was kicking myself afterward for being such a snob. I was scared of you. Scared of what you would think of a poor girl who couldn’t even afford a decent dress, who lived in a run-down apartment block in the wrong part of town. I didn’t want it to matter and I hated that it did. You’ve been the enemy and yet…” she couldn’t finish, still unable to articulate her own confusion.
Matthew smiled at her then. A warm, welcoming smile that promised much more. He lay back against the couch and tugged on Cory’s hands. “I hope I’m not the enemy anymore?” he said, a gentle question in his voice.
“It depends on what I’m fighting,” she replied.
“Don’t fight.” Then he lowered his head, his lips touched hers and once again he drew her close into a place of warmth, strength and sanctuary.
She shifted and slipped her arms around him, exulting in the strength of his arms around her, savoring the feel of Matthew holding her tight.
“Oh, Cory,” he murmured in her ear. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to do this from the first moment I stepped into the house. When I didn’t see you at the restaurant this morning I felt lost.” He pulled back, tilting her chin up to look at him. “I missed you and I was scared.”
“You? Scared?” The thought seemed ludicrous. “Of what?”
“Scared that you might run away again.”
Cory laid her head against the back of the couch, her eyes on this handsome man who wanted to be with her, who felt lost when she wasn’t around. It was a small miracle, she reflected.
“I don’t have any place I’d sooner be right now,” she said quietly.
“I’m glad,” he said.
“There’s something else I need to tell you. About last night…when you asked my forgiveness…” She held his steady gaze, feeling a tension in the hands that lay on her shoulders. “I have to admit that there had been many times that I thought I hated you. But like I said, you were always a grey area. More than anything I hated the feeling that no one was listening to me. That I was helpless, that I had no rights.”
Matthew made a murmur of regret and she touched his mouth, forestalling the words.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding all formal, but yes, I forgive you. I need forgiveness as much as anyone. If I think of all the trouble I must have caused you and your father…” she paused, then laughed lightly, “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“What matters is that you’ve forgiven me,” Matthew said, cupping her face in his hand. “And I thank God for that.”
Chapter Eleven
Matthew held Cory close, her head tucked under his chin. He felt complete. Whole. His chest lifted in a satisfied sigh as he silently sent up a prayer of thanks.
“I have a confession to make,” he said quietly, staring at her school pictures hanging on the wall across from him. “I came to Stratton for more than one reason, although I don’t think I wanted to admit it at the time. I was looking forward to seeing you even though I knew you wouldn’t welcome me.”
Cory laughed lightly, acknowledging the truth of the statement. “When I first saw you in the restaurant, I was scared stiff that Zeke was going to be coming as well. And then I was mad.”
“I gathered that.” Matthew smiled in remembrance.
“When you first wanted me to sign that will, to accept the money from Zeke, I thought it would make things too easy for you. I thought it would salve your conscience, and I didn’t want that to happen.” She pulled back then, looking him straight in the eye. “I didn’t want anything good to come out of his death. But it did. Money isn’t that important to me, or my mother. But we’ve done without so long, because of Zeke, it almost seems a type of divine justice that something should come back. Doesn’t it?”
Fear clawed up his throat as he held her trusting gaze. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. What they shared was so fragile. If he told her what his father had related to him just this afternoon, she would be angry again. He couldn’t face that.
Instead he bent his head and kissed her, closing his eyes against the open trust he saw in hers, closing his mind to what might happen, praying his father would work a miracle for them.
Cory pulled slowly away, pressing her hand on his chest, looking guilty. She lifted her hands to smooth down her hair, slanting a furtive glance at Matthew.
“My mother,” she said quietly, getting up. “I should check on her.”
The moment was broken with the mention of Joyce. Matthew wondered what Joyce would have to say if she found out that he was in the house. He doubted much had changed since she had turned away from him in church.
Cory walked out of the living room, and Matthew watched her go with a small measure of fear.
“She is so great,” he whispered clutching his head. “I can’t tell her. I just can’t.”
He shut his eyes against the flare of shame when he thought of deceiving her. Please, Lord, just give me some more time with her without that. Just let me show her how much I care for her. He didn’t know if his prayer was legitimate, but he knew that right now he needed help through this situation.
All he needed was a little more time to cement the relationship. Once he had established that, only then might she be able to accept what he had to tell her.
He needed time to prove himself trustworthy, he thought, getting up.
As he did, the photo album he had been looking at fell to the ground. He picked it up and opened it again. Then, as he looked at the pictures of the brothers Cory used to wish for, he knew what he could do.
He and his father had enough connections in the legal world. Someone, somewhere would know of these men.
Jake and Simon. Matthew carefully pulled a picture of the two of them out of the book and slipped it into his
pocket. Then he put the photo album back on the shelf with the few others Cory and her mother had.
He fingered one of the others; then, with a pensive smile, pulled it out and opened it up.
A young Cory grinned back at him. A gap-toothed smile. The caption told him that she was seven years old and had just lost her front teeth.
He paged through the album noting that there were very few pictures of Joyce. He wondered if she was the one who took most of the pictures.
“You’re not allowed to do that yet,” Cory said from the hallway.
Matthew turned, feeling guilty until he saw her grin. “It’s called research,” he said easily. “I always do that before I start on a new case.”
“Oh. So that’s what I am?”
“Of course. I’ll just have to put off my other clients so I can give you my full attention.” He returned her smile, enjoying the bantering. It injected a light note into what, up until now, had been deeply intense.
“Nathan won’t be pleased if you neglect your work.”
“That’s okay,” he said with a grin. “I’m just working there until a good fast-food job opens up.”
“I think your reality check just bounced,” Cory returned. “You’d be hopeless in the kitchen.”
“I resent that.”
“Good. You can prove me wrong.” She threw him a teasing look over her shoulder. “I’m going to make some supper for my mother. You can help.”
“Is she awake?”
“No. But she’s slept long enough. She should eat something.” Cory bit her lip, glancing sidelong at him.
“And what is she going to say when she finds me here?”
Cory lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I guess I’ll have to handle that as it comes up.”
Matthew held her gaze. “I’ll be here, Cory.”
“I know. Now, lets get that kitchen tidied up,” she said, turning away. “I feel like I should apologize for the mess, but this week has felt like every day was Monday.”
“That’s rough,” he sympathized. “Well, point me in the direction of the soap, and I’ll wash these dishes.”
“Under the sink,” she pointed with her chin as she opened the fridge. “I was kidding, but I’m also not going to turn down the help.”
Matthew glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t think any man was ever punished for doing the dishes.”
“Not in this house.” Cory kicked the door of the fridge closed with her foot.
“What are you making?”
Cory grinned and held up an egg. “Nature’s fast food. I’m making an omelette. You want one?”
“Are you going to put onions in it?”
“Don’t tell me you’re fussy?”
“Well—” Matthew threw her an apologetic look “—I’m not a big fan of onions.”
Cory shook her head, winking at him. “I never would have figured you for a picky eater.”
He smiled back at her, their eyes holding, lengthening the moment. Then she turned back to her omelette and he went back to washing dishes, working together in companionable silence.
Matthew couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Cory around all the time. To share a life together.
Hold on, Matthew, he warned himself. He was jumping way too far ahead. Last night he had kissed her for the first time. He had never moved this quickly with any of the other women he had dated.
You’ve never known any of the other women as long as you’ve known Cory, he reminded himself.
“You’re sure quiet all of a sudden,” Cory said, brushing past him to pull a frying pan out of the oven.
He set the last cup on the drain board and turned to her. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”
“Unfamiliar territory?” She set the pan on the stove and threw him a saucy grin.
“Nasty, nasty,” he reprimanded. He caught her hand and tugged, pulling her closer.
“I have to cook this omelette,” she said, putting up a token resistance.
“I know.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, just because he knew he could. It was as if he couldn’t hold her enough, couldn’t touch her enough.
The sound of a door opening down the hallway made her pull away with a guilty start. Cory threw a furtive glance down the hallway and moved away from Matthew.
“Hi, Mom. I was just going to get you,” she said to Joyce.
Joyce glanced from Matthew to Cory, who now stood in front of her, fidgeting.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Joyce said to Cory. She turned to Matthew. “And hello, Mr. McKnight. I didn’t know you were here.”
“How are you feeling, Mom?” Cory put an arm carefully around her shoulders. “Do you want to sit in the living room?”
“I’m okay, Cory. I’ll sit by the table. If I’m not going to be in the way, that is?” She looked at Matthew with an appraising look. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain that in spite of her daughter’s changed heart, Joyce still didn’t trust him.
Cory settled her mother in and went back to the stove. She didn’t look at Matthew when she turned the heat on under the frying pan. She pulled open the utensil drawer and fumbled around for a fork which she immediately dropped. When she bent over to pick it up, she banged her head on the oven door handle.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, throwing the fork into the sink and grabbing another one.
Matthew watched her awkward movements. She was nervous. A nervousness created by her mother’s presence and Joyce’s unspoken censure of Matthew, no doubt.
He figured it would be better if he left Cory to work alone and walked around the U-shaped kitchen and sat down at the table across from Joyce. He preferred to face her head-on. She looked at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
“So what brings you here, Mr. McKnight. More business about the will?”
Matthew felt his pulse quicken at her question, wondering for a guilty moment if she knew.
“Actually, I just came to see how Cory was doing,” he said smoothly. “She was supposed to help me coach T-ball this afternoon, and she couldn’t make it.” He looked up at Joyce then, forcing himself to hold her piercing gaze. “I was concerned.”
“I find this interesting,” Joyce said quietly. “You didn’t seem so concerned about her before. When Zeke was on the rampage.”
Matthew acknowledged her comment with a slight nod. “No. My concern had been for my client. Misplaced concern, I found out.”
“Found out? Or decided to set aside now that Cory is older, prettier? Now that some time has elapsed.” Joyce rocked back and forth with slow movements, her eyes never leaving Matthew. “I know how you used to look at her, Matthew, watch her when you thought no one could see you. But I did. I know you were attracted to her.”
“Mother, please,” Cory stepped around the cupboards. “I don’t want you talking to Matthew like this.”
But Joyce didn’t move her eyes from Matthew once.
“You’re right, Joyce,” Matthew conceded. “I’ve always been attracted to her. Cory is a very dynamic person. Hard to look past.”
He could see his honest admission took a little of the wind out of her sails and for a moment Joyce stopped her rocking.
“And I’ve since found out a few things about my former client, Zeke Smith.” He felt as if he had come to a crucial point and he wanted and needed this tiny woman’s approval. “Things that, I must confess, I’ve been blind to.”
“Convenient, isn’t it, to discover that after the man is dead?”
“Actually, it isn’t.” Matthew sat back and sighed lightly. Please, Lord, give me the right words. Let her see that I’m sincere. It meant everything to him to know that this woman believed him. This woman whose hatred for him was even stronger than Cory’s had been. “Last night I asked Cory’s forgiveness for the trouble and pain I caused by defending Zeke Smith’s rights. I could hide behind the excuse that I was protecting his court-ordered rights. Doing my job. I know now how manipulative Zeke was. I could argue that I fel
l under his spell as well.” He straightened, still holding Joyce’s gimlet gaze. “But none of that really matters now. Right now, I only ask that you can forgive me for the trouble I inadvertently brought into your life.”
Joyce held his gaze, then looked away, as if to another time. “Did you know that whenever Cory had to visit him, I would be sick with worry?” Her voice was quiet but determined. “Sick with wondering what would happen to her, what he would do to her. I used to pray, but I stopped doing even that.” She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Cory was instantly at her side, her arm around her shoulders, her hand covering her mother’s. “Don’t, Mom. Don’t go there. It’s over now.”
“It’s only been over for us for a few weeks, Cory,” Joyce said angrily. “Up until this man came, we thought Zeke would show up any moment and we would have to move again.” Her voice faltered. “And he comes telling us that Zeke has given us everything he owns. I don’t believe it.”
Her words cut through Matthew and for a moment he wanted to tell them that they were both right not to trust.
Then Cory looked at him, her eyes shining with affection and, maybe, love? He couldn’t extinguish that. Not while everything was so new between them.
“But it’s true,” Cory said confidently, “It’s real. I saw the will. And now we can make some plans.” She turned back to her mother, and Matthew felt almost sick.
“Plans. We’ve never been able to make plans.” Joyce covered her face with her hands, and Matthew could see the sheen of tears slipping between her fingers. He felt helpless and out of place. He felt like a deceiver.
Cory gave him a helpless look, still crouched by her mother’s side.
It was all he could do to keep from rushing to her side, from pulling her away from her mother, from gathering her in his arms. He wanted to protect her from the truth. To keep it at bay until they had a chance to spend some time together without the specter of Zeke and his manipulation hanging between them.
A Family At Last Page 13
