A Family At Last

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “By the way, I’d like to offer my condolences on the death of your stepfather.”

  Cory gave him a wan smile, accepting his sympathy. She was on shaky ground and was determined to get back some of the home ice advantage. “Can I get you some coffee?” she said with more confidence than she felt.

  “Yes. That sounds good,” Clifton said. “Coffee for both of us.” Clifton looked back at her. “Do you have some time, Cory? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  Cory felt her heart thud to a halt, then race away. What could Clifton possibly have to tell her? “I’ve got a coffee break coming in about ten minutes, but I could take it early.”

  Clifton acknowledged that with a curt nod.

  Cory looked at Matthew, willing him to glance up at her again, to give her some kind of hint what his father wanted. Matthew’s early arrival at the restaurant showed her that this meeting had been arranged. But why?

  She wanted him to smile at her, tell her that everything was all right. More than ever, in the presence of his father and the past, she needed some kind of assurance that he was the same Matthew who had called her last night, who had teased and laughed with her.

  But sitting across from his father, he could barely acknowledge her presence. It was as if he were ashamed of her.

  Swallowing down a building knot of sorrow and apprehension, she turned, got the coffee and came quickly back.

  Without saying a word she poured them each a cup, her cheeks hot with shame and confusion. How was she supposed to calmly sit with both of them and discuss whatever it was Clifton wanted to talk about?

  Matthew was suddenly distant, Clifton looked as imperious as ever. Once again she felt like the rebellious girl they didn’t think much of, the girl who caused them nothing but trouble.

  She brought the coffeepot back, and just before she returned to the table, grabbed the edge of the counter, her eyes shut tight.

  I don’t know what is happening, Lord, she prayed, but I feel scared, confused. I feel like Matthew doesn’t want to see me. It hurts. Please take the hurt away. Help me to trust in You, that You will take care of me.

  She didn’t want to go back, wanted to stay in this place, talking to God who she knew loved her unconditionally.

  But practicality intervened. Smoothing down her hair and sucking in a quick breath, she turned, lifted her head and walked back to the table.

  Matthew looked up as she came closer, his expression guarded.

  Ignoring him, Cory sat down in the chair across from Clifton, matching his level gaze, stare for stare.

  “You wished to talk to me,” she said, her voice level, even, not even betraying the emotions that twisted beneath the facade of calm.

  Clifton gave Matthew a quick look, then looked back at Cory. “I’m presuming Matthew told you about the problem we had with Zeke’s will.”

  Cory shook her head. Matthew had said nothing about the will.

  He wouldn’t look at her, and she felt an ominous pounding beginning in her head. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t say anything, willing Clifton to continue.

  Clifton cleared his throat and pushed his coffee cup aside, resting his forearms on the table. “I thought the will would be probated quite quickly. I was wrong. I hadn’t seen Zeke for approximately a year before his death and apparently he met another woman whom he had been living with.”

  Clifton paused, his head tilting to one side, his expression softening as he continued. “In that time period, he drew up another will. It’s what we call a holograph will—it was witnessed, signed and dated.”

  Icy fingers gripped her forehead and hands. She almost swayed, but caught the table, stopping herself. Don’t let them see, she thought, reverting back to what she called her survival techniques. Don’t let them know how they’ve gotten to you. Don’t let them think they’ve won.

  “And what does that mean for me?” Her voice came out calm, quiet and for that she was grateful.

  “It could mean that the will in which you were named beneficiary could be declared invalid.”

  She felt Matthew rest his hand on her arm but she pulled it back as Clifton’s words registered. Zeke hadn’t left her anything after all. Another wrapped-up box that was empty when opened. Like always.

  How long had Matthew known about this other will? How long had he kept this information to himself? Why didn’t he prepare her? Tell her?

  “What are you going to do?” she asked Clifton, her voice portraying a calm she didn’t feel.

  “We can fight it. The will was handwritten. We could debate the soundness of his mind at the time, whether he actually wrote the will or not. There’s a number of angles we could take.”

  “And how would I pay for this?”

  “Any legitimate challenges to the estate would be drawn from the estate itself.”

  Cory absorbed this for a moment, then threw Clifton a wary look. “And the longer the fight goes on, the higher the lawyers’ bills. A challenge could conceivably drain the estate until there is nothing left to fight over, right?”

  “You’re very astute,” Clifton said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “That is a possibility. Sometimes both parties can agree to a fair and equitable distribution before that happens.”

  “Do you think that can happen?”

  Clifton was quiet a moment, then looked her straight in the eye. “No. The other woman wants her full share of the estate.”

  Cory let the words register as her eyes slid away from his. Then, slowly, the old familiar anger ignited deep within her.

  Zeke had betrayed her once again. And Matthew had encouraged her to put herself in this position. He hadn’t told her the truth.

  “None of this should surprise me,” she said pushing her chair back and getting to her feet, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. “I never wanted anything from Zeke from the first. I didn’t trust him, and I was right not to. I was misled.”

  Then without looking at Matthew, she turned and walked away, ignoring his calls to wait.

  She ducked around a partition and pulled off her apron as she strode toward the kitchen. She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get away, to be alone.

  Matthew caught up to her just before she reached the back door leading out of the restaurant.

  “Cory, please listen to me.”

  She turned to him, her anger now white-hot, the sting of Zeke’s treachery sharp in it’s familiarity.

  “No. You listen to me. I told you I didn’t want anything from that stupid will in the first place. You told me to sign it, told me that maybe Zeke wanted to make things up to me. If I hadn’t done that I would have never ended up feeling like this again. Like maybe, somehow he wanted…wanted…” And then to her shame, her voice broke off.

  “Cory, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand as if to touch her, but she moved away from him.

  “I never wanted anything from him, but you said it would be different.” She lashed out, part of her crying out to stop, but she couldn’t. It was too familiar, the pain, the betrayal. The lies. “All my life, I’ve wanted a father, someone who would love me. He was the only father I ever knew. And he hated me.”

  Tears gathered, filling her eyes, but she couldn’t stop now. She had let down too many barriers with Matthew and she couldn’t hold back what she had to say.

  “Do you know what it’s like to live with someone who wants only to hurt you, and all you want is someone to love you?” She stopped, shaking her head, glancing over his shoulder at his father. “Of course you don’t. Your father only wanted the best for you, gave you everything you ever needed or wanted. All I ever wanted from Zeke was some expression of love. Some way of knowing that somehow I was important to him. That I mattered. I spent years building up my defenses against him. Years. And now, in just a few weeks, you helped me break them down.” She stared at Matthew, unaware of the tears coursing down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He reached out fo
r her again, but she couldn’t bear to have him touch her.

  “Leave me alone, McKnight. You were his lawyer.” With another sob she turned and ran out of the door.

  Once outside, she began to run, unsure of where she was going, only knowing that she had to get away from Matthew and the memories.

  She didn’t stop until she got to the river.

  Panting with exertion she leaned back against a tree. Thoughts, memories whirled, converging until she couldn’t control herself. She covered her face in her hands and wept angry, bitter tears, her shoulders shaking with the strength of her sorrow.

  When the worst storm had passed, she wiped her eyes, laying her head back against the rough bark of the tree wondering how she could have been so stupid.

  Just a few days ago she had foolishly told Matthew that she believed God had brought them to this place. That her life had reached some kind of happy ending thanks to the will. What a sap she had been. It was all a lie. Zeke had once again hurt her. Betrayed her.

  And Matthew knew all along.

  Had he known when he came to Stratton? Had he used the will as some kind of bargaining chip to get close to her? Was everything he told her a lie?

  Was he as manipulative as Zeke was? He was a man, wasn’t he? Once he had defended her stepfather, believed him.

  But Matthew told her that he believed her.

  Was that more lies?

  Questions came at her from all angles, voicing all the doubts she had quenched because she believed his words. Had fallen for his charm. Just as her mother warned her.

  Sliding against the tree, she lowered herself to the ground. Objections and suspicions all spun through her head unable to find a coherent center; pain and anger twisted her stomach. She didn’t know what to feel, what to think.

  She wanted to pray, but every time she started, the only line that would come to her was, “Our Father…”

  As she had told Matthew, she had never received love from a father. And now it seemed that even God was in on the joke on her. She had asked for all this, she thought, wrapping her arms around her knees, pressing her face against them. She who knew better, had gone against the better judgment that had been hard-won through many confrontations with Zeke Smith.

  No one else had been the dupe but her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, as another sob shook her. Foolish, foolish woman. What have you done?

  Cory allowed herself the questions, the anger, the sorrow. She let it all roll over her. Then, wiping away the tears from her cheeks, she opened her eyes.

  The trees covered the sky, like a canopy overhead. Through their green leaves the sun filtered. A curious squirrel chirped from a branch, then scampered away.

  “Life goes on,” Cory muttered. “It just keeps on going.”

  She knew that’s what she had to do. Keep going. How and where she was supposed to head from here, she didn’t know.

  And what about Matthew?

  Wasn’t love supposed to be built on trust? How could she trust him now? Her heart contracted painfully as she thought of him. She didn’t know what to do.

  “I take it you hadn’t told her about the other will yet,” Clifton said as Matthew came back to where his father sat. When his father had unexpectedly called to tell him he was coming, Matthew assumed it was for a visit. He was as surprised as Cory when Clifton brought up the will.

  “No, I hadn’t,” Matthew said heavily, dropping into the chair. He wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing in letting Cory leave. Not in her state, but he was afraid of what would happen if he went after her.

  She didn’t trust him anymore. What a mess he had made of everything by waiting. By selfishly thinking that they needed time together.

  “Why hadn’t you told her?”

  Matthew resented his father’s probing. Mostly because he knew he had been in the wrong. “I wanted to wait for the right time,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I realized when I got your call to meet you here that I had waited too long.” He massaged his forehead with his fingers as he remembered what she had said about wanting a father’s love. His heart twisted at the memory. She had grown up with so much pain and disappointment. And now, thanks to his urging, she had been put in that position once again.

  Clifton was silent a moment, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “She’s as emotional as ever,” he said finally.

  Matthew glanced up at his father to see if he was joking, but Clifton looked dead serious. “She’s had a lot to be emotional about,” Matthew said flatly. “Cory told me her side of the living-with-Zeke-Smith story.” Matthew held his father’s gaze, his own steady. “Zeke was a manipulative fraud, Dad. Cory was just a means to an end, and the end was to win against Joyce. Which he did thanks to us. And now, thanks to us, thanks to me,” he corrected, “she allowed herself to be beaten by him again.”

  “It was an unforeseen error,” Clifton said. “There was no way we could have known about that will. You approached her in good faith.”

  “I don’t think that will was so unforseen,” Matthew snapped. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he set the whole thing up.” Then in succinct words, sparing no details, he told his father what Cory had told him.

  “We were fooled by him,” Matthew said finally. “Both of us. And Cory and Joyce had to pay a high price for that.”

  Clifton sat back, his expression betraying his incredulity. “But this was the very thing we fought against in court. Her words against Zeke’s. I’ve known Zeke for years. We’ve gone golfing together, spent time together. He always talked about her, how much he cared for her…” He rested his head on his fingertips, confusion threading through his voice. “How do you know she’s right?”

  “Because I just feel in my heart that she’s right.” Matthew plunged his hands through his hair. “I would think this last little business with the will would be enough to convince both of us that she told me the truth. And now she’s out there somewhere, hating me, you and Zeke. We’re all one package to her, and it rips me apart inside to have her think that I’m anything like that man.”

  Matthew ran his hand over his face in a gesture of resignation. “She told me to leave her alone, but I can’t.” He looked at his father. “To know that she hates me hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt.”

  Clifton’s expression was sorrowful, his touch gentle as he reached across the table to clasp his son’s arm. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I feel like I’m responsible for all of this. I should have told you why I was coming, but I assumed you had told her about the will already.”

  “I should have,” Matthew said with a sigh. “But I was afraid she would do exactly what she did right now. I thought I would give us a chance. Buy us some time. The only trouble is, right now it hurts me more.”

  Clifton was quiet a moment, regarding his son with a thoughtful stare. “I get the feeling she means a lot to you.”

  Matthew laughed shortly. “More than a lot, Dad.” He looked directly at his father and taking a slow breath decided it was time to tell him. “I’m thinking of staying here. Staying in Stratton and taking over Nathan’s practice.”

  To the casual observer, Clifton’s expression never changed. But Matthew could see his father’s lips thin, the faint tightening of the muscles in his face. “Because of her?”

  “Her name is Cory,” Matthew said quietly. “And yes, she is one of the reasons I’m staying here. The others we’ve talked about endlessly before. I like it here, I like the pace of the work, I like the kind of work. I don’t feel like I’m racing, trying forever to maintain the family reputation.” He didn’t want to say anything about his father’s marriage. That wasn’t really relevant to the discussion, but he also knew he wanted to be able to have the same kind of relationship with his wife that Nathan had with Mary.

  And a relationship like that took the investment of time.

  “She means that much to you, Matthew?”

  “I love her,” Matthew said with a short laugh, as if doubting his own feeli
ngs. “Although I don’t know where I stand with her now.”

  Clifton leaned back, his hands resting on the edge of the table. “Then I suggest you have some work to do, Matthew. If you truly care for her.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The shrill sound of the phone ringing greeted Cory as she stepped into her house. The demanding noise cut through her.

  She ignored it. It was probably Matthew and she didn’t want to talk to him. If it was anyone else, well, she didn’t want to talk to them, either.

  “Can you get that please?” Joyce called from the kitchen.

  Cory hesitated a moment, then praying it was just a routine call, picked it up.

  “Cory, don’t hang up,” she heard the voice on the other end say.

  It was Matthew after all.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said dispiritedly. “Please leave me alone.” She had no reserves to deal with him, no way of resisting him.

  “Cory, don’t do this. Don’t push me away. I’m sorry. I should have told you….”

  Cory pressed her fingertips to eyes still tender from crying as she slowly sat down on the couch. “I can’t deal with you right now, Matthew.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cory wished she were better with words. Wished she could explain the confusion, the convoluted emotions that she couldn’t untangle herself. Matthew and his father and Zeke, all intertwined. All had created unhappiness in her life. All had betrayed her in one way or another. How could she separate Matthew from that? How could she explain it to him when she wasn’t sure herself?

  “Cory, I need to talk to you. Please let me come over.”

  Cory felt a sob rise in her throat. She glanced up to see her mother standing in the doorway of the kitchen. And how was she going to tell Joyce that once again Zeke had taken something away from them?

  She didn’t want Matthew to witness her pain. So she hung up.

  “Who was that, dear?” Joyce asked with a frown.

  “Wrong number,” Cory answered, pulling her legs up to her chest, as if to protect her heart.