But how could she leave? When she was half in love with the land and more than half in love with Zach?
The thought of the man in whose arms she'd slept made her sigh. She wondered how he'd feel about her being related to the Stantons, the family who'd practically adopted him. How odd that they'd turned their back on their own daughter and yet taken in a teenage boy and raised him with love.
Were her grandparents monsters or flawed human beings? Did they deserve her love, her understanding, or a legacy of mistrust and dislike passed down from her mother? Katherine had never felt more torn in her life.
"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Claire said.
She didn't know if Claire was talking about the view or the secrets that lay between them. She wondered how the valley could look so peaceful when her life was in utter chaos.
"Come home with me, Katherine. I want you to meet your grandfather. I want you to see your mother's bedroom. I want you to give us a chance. I know we don't deserve one, but I'm asking anyway. Will you come?"
Chapter Twenty
"Sit down, Zach," Harry said from his armchair in front of the fireplace in his study. He waved his hand to the seat across from him. "We need to talk."
Zach hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk. He didn't like the look in Harry's eyes, the expression of utter weariness and dejection making his shoulders bow, his head droop.
Jackson's words rang through his head -- don't count on inheriting the old homestead.
"Please," Harry said.
Zach walked across the room and sat down in an armchair across from Harry. He glanced over at the fireplace, at the cold dark ashes, and felt a chill run through his body. Something was wrong.
"There's been some trouble," Harry began.
"I heard about J.T. Will he be all right?"
"I don't know. Claire went to the hospital to be with Mary Jo." Harry paused. "She loves Mary Jo and Leeanne as if they were her very own daughters. In many ways they replaced Margaret in her heart."
He was in trouble now. Even though Zach had heard stories about the wayward Stanton daughter and vaguely remembered meeting her as a child, Harry had never spoken to Zach about Margaret, not once in the last eighteen years.
"Well, I'm sure J.T. will pull through. He's a tough son of a bitch."
"I'm not overly concerned with J.T. at the moment." Harry pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I've found something out, something very disturbing. It's going to change everything. I thought I knew what to do, but now I find myself faced with a situation I never imagined would come to pass. Maybe if your father hadn't come back to town..."
Harry cleared his throat and looked straight into Zach's eyes with so much pain and disillusionment that Zach felt himself getting smaller by the second. He couldn't let Harry say it. He'd hidden behind the lie for far too long. In fact, ever since he'd told Katherine the story, he'd known that it was time to come clean, to really stand in front of Harry as a man, and not as the boy he'd once been.
He'd mocked Katherine for wanting to hang on to a dream, when he'd done exactly the same thing. "You had to know sooner or later," Zach said abruptly. "I just wish I'd been the one to tell you."
"Zach?" Harry questioned, his voice shaking over the one short word.
"I took Claire's wedding ring eighteen years ago and covered it up until I could afford to buy a replacement."
Harry looked stunned, as if he hadn't heard the words before. As if Jackson hadn't told him. Shit! Zach suddenly realized that his father hadn't told Harry about the ring.
"Well..." Harry took a deep breath. "Well."
His gut clenched. He'd just exposed the one thing he'd tried to hide. He'd just set himself up for the fall of a lifetime. Damn his father and his insinuations.
"You took Claire's wedding ring?" Harry said finally. "I had no idea."
He looked up at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention, maybe a lightning bolt to strike him dead. But nothing came. He apparently had to live long enough to tell the truth, to face the music. "My father told me he wouldn't leave me behind in Paradise unless I gave him something to take in my place. He wanted Claire's ring, and I stole it for him."
"Claire's wedding ring was found some time back," Harry said.
"A copy. I bought her a new one. It took me a while to match it. When I took the ring I wrote down the inscription, so I wouldn't forget."
Harry slowly got to his feet, picked up the iron rod by the fireplace, and poked at the ashes in the grate. Zach wondered if the old man was contemplating bringing it down on his head.
"I'm sorry," Zach said. "I know an apology doesn't cover it. What I did was wrong. I regretted it every day since. I'll tell Claire the truth as soon as she gets home."
Harry set down the poker and turned to him. "You will tell her the truth, because there have already been too many lies told. But I'd ask you to wait a few days. Claire has enough to deal with right now."
"What do you mean?"
"What I wanted to talk to you about."
"It wasn't the ring.”
Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid you confessed for nothing, Zach. Your father hasn't spoken about a ring. In a way, I wish he had. It would have been easier to deal with. No, Jackson had bigger fish to fry this time around."
Harry sat down in his chair, his shoulders slumping with fatigue. "A long time ago, I, too, made a big mistake, Zach. I sent my daughter, Margaret, away, and when she didn't come back -- when I couldn't find her -- I told Claire that our daughter had died."
"You mean she's still alive?"
"No, not anymore. But she didn't die when I said she did. The only thing buried in the plot at the Paradise Valley Cemetery is an empty coffin. I wanted to ease Claire's mind, you see." Harry looked at him imploringly as if Zach could absolve his conscience. "I wanted to stop her from fretting every day about whether or not Margaret was all right, if she was alone, if she was healthy, if she was hurting. When I couldn't find Margaret, and I tried to find her, believe me, I figured it was hopeless and better for Claire to get on with her life."
He didn't know how to reply. He was shocked to think that Harry could have faked his own daughter's death. Those weren't the actions of the man he knew, the man he held up on a pedestal of integrity and honor.
"Does Claire know about this now?”
"Yes. As you can imagine, she's furious, heartbroken, devastated." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I never thought it would come out. As the years went by, I thought we were safe. I thought if a miracle occurred and Margaret came home, even though it would be a shock, Claire would forgive me, because she'd have her daughter back. That didn't happen."
"What did happen?"
"Somehow your father came up with information I couldn't find to save my soul."
"My father? He knew that you didn't bury Margaret in the cemetery?"
"Apparently."
"When did he figure that out?"
"I don't know. It doesn't matter. What does matter is what I'm going to do now. You know I hired a private investigator a few weeks ago. You never asked why and I respected that. You've been like a son to me, Zach, or maybe I should say grandson. Even though what you did with Claire's ring was wrong, you're a good man. That theft came from the hand of a distrustful, scared sixteen-year-old. You wouldn't do it again."
"No, I wouldn't."
"I've watched you grow up, change, learn to respect yourself.”
"Because of you -- your confidence in me."
"You grew up to be the man you were always meant to be. I didn't have much to do with it. Since my heart attack, I've been thinking about what to do with the farm once I'm gone. That's why I hired the investigator, to reassure myself that Margaret was really unreachable." He paused. "I was going to leave it to you, Zach, all of it." Regret filled his eyes. "I can't do that now."
His gut clenched with disappointment as he saw all of his dreams slipping away. But the farm had always belonged to Harry. He just worked there. "
The farm is yours to do with as you wish," he forced himself to say. "May I ask what you are planning to do?"
Harry looked him straight in the eye. "I'm going to leave it to my granddaughter."
Granddaughter? It suddenly all made sense -- his father, Claire, Margaret, and the only woman who could possibly be Harry's granddaughter.
"Her name is Katherine," Harry said, confirming his fears. "Katherine Whitfield.”
A wave of anger swept through him. "Does Katherine know she's your granddaughter?" he asked tersely.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Claire talked to Katherine yesterday. Apparently, she has Margaret's quilt.”
Yesterday!
Yesterday Katherine had come to his house and made love to him. They'd touched each other inside and out. He'd thought he knew everything about her, that she was as exposed, as vulnerable to him as a woman could be, but she'd kept one very big secret to herself.
No wonder she'd snuck out without a word. She was about to steal his life out from under him. Not content with the land and the farm and the horses, she'd also wanted his heart. Thank God, he hadn't told her he loved her. At least he had something left, some small piece of pride.
"I'm sorry, Zach. I'm sure Katherine will want your help running the place. From what I understand she doesn't know one damn thing about horses. She'll need help, lots of it."
He could barely hear Harry. His blood was roaring through his veins, fury and a sense of betrayal making him half crazed with the desire to hit something or someone. He hadn't felt this used when Crystal had left him at the altar.
Because he hadn't loved Crystal the way he loved Katherine.
Another truth hit him square in the heart.
No! He didn't love Katherine. He didn't even know her. He'd thought she was honest, not a secret in her heart, not a lie on her lips. He'd been wrong. She could lie as good as anyone else.
"Zach?"
He whirled around. Katherine stood in the doorway of the study, Claire right next to her.
"You know?" she asked, meeting his gaze, worry in her eyes.
"That you're the Stanton's long-lost granddaughter? I just found out. Congratulations. You certainly landed on your feet, didn't you?" He strode across the room, stopping right in front of her. "Was this why you really came to Paradise? Was the rest of it just a lie so you could worm your way into the town and see the lay of the land?"
"No, none of it was a lie," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have told you last night, but I couldn't find the words."
"That would have ruined all the fun, wouldn't it?" He dropped his voice down to a hush meant only for her ears. "Did it give you pleasure to sleep with a man, knowing you were about to take everything he ever wanted?"
Katherine's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I'm not taking anything from you." She looked from Zach to Harry and then to Claire. "Why does he think I'm taking something from him?"
Claire looked at her husband. "You didn't."
"It's hers, Claire. She's our heir," Harry said bluntly. "You told me so yourself. When we're both gone, she'll inherit the farm."
"I don't want the farm," Katherine said quickly.
Zach released a bitter, tortured laugh. "Sure you do. It's what you always wanted. I'll clear my things out today."
"Zach, no," Claire said imploringly. "Harry, say something."
"Don't be ridiculous, Zach," Harry said. "You're not going anywhere. Nor am I, anytime soon. This is all down the road, Zach. I'm only telling you now because I want you to know the truth."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I appreciate everything you did for me. But it's time to move on. I always knew I wasn't a Stanton, even though you let me feel like one. This isn't the place for me. It's Katherine's now. She's your blood. And that's what it's all about, isn't it?"
"Zach, wait," Katherine cried.
He slammed the door on her words, on the Stantons, and on a woman he never should have let himself love. As his father would say -- game over.
* * *
"I have to go after him," Katherine said to Claire. "He doesn't understand. He thinks I lied to him."
"Zach needs to cool down," Claire said, but her eyes reflected her worry. "I'm sure he didn't mean what he said about leaving today. Harry, tell Katherine Zach will be all right."
Harry didn't look so certain. "I don't know, Claire. I don't know anything anymore."
For the first time Katherine took a good look at her grandfather, the man who'd sent her mother fleeing halfway across the country. For some reason she'd expected him to be as strong as an oak tree. But this aging, thin man with weathered skin and sad brown eyes did not look terrifying. He did not look nearly as scary as Mitchell, for that matter. How odd that her mother had run away from one powerful man only to tie herself up with another. Maybe she'd been seeking what she'd left behind all those years ago.
Harry regarded her with the same thoughtful perusal she was giving him. "Katherine? May I call you that?"
"Yes."
She felt awkward, not sure if she should call him Mr. Stanton or Harry or Grandfather -- whether she should shake his hand or look down her nose at him or hope he'd like her.
"Why don't we all sit down?" Claire suggested.
Katherine took a seat on the couch while Claire and Harry sat in the chairs by the fireplace. For a while the only sound in the room came from the ticking clock on the desk.
"I didn't realize you and Zach..." Claire didn't finish her sentence. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."
She felt numb. All she really wanted was a chance to talk to Zach, to try and explain why she hadn't told him about her connection with the Stantons. She hadn't deliberately lied to him, and she certainly hadn't known anything about the horse farm or the Stanton's plans to leave it to her. But even if she could catch up to Zach, she doubted he would listen. He was too angry. And who could blame him?
"You should leave the farm to Zach, or do whatever it is you intended to do," she said. "I didn't come here to mix everything up. And I don't know the first thing about horses."
"You'll learn," Harry said. "Sam can teach you. If Zach wants to go, he can go."
Harry sounded so heartless, like he didn't care that he'd just destroyed Zach's dream. For a moment Katherine caught a glimpse of the man Harry must have been when her mother had come to him with the biggest problem of her life.
"Did you say the same thing to my mother?" she asked.
Harry didn't even blink. "Your mother did what she wanted to do."
"Did she have a choice?"
"Did she have a choice to have a baby out of wedlock? Yes, I think she did," Harry replied.
"Perhaps it was a mistake, an accident. You didn't have to kick her out of the house."
"Katherine," Claire interrupted. "There's a lot more to the story than you know."
"I'm sure there is. However, I'm not sure I want to hear it."
"Your mother never wanted to hear anything either," Harry said. "She was stubborn."
"And we both know where she got that from." Claire frowned at Harry. "Don't you think we could tell Katherine some of the good things about Margaret?"
"I have work to do." Harry stood up and nodded to Katherine. "Let Sam know when you want to look around the place. He can show you the ropes. You can start out slow, learn as you go."
"I don't want to learn. I'm not sure I even like horses."
"You sound just like Margaret. I think she said the same thing the day she left." Claire blinked back a tear. "But she didn't always feel that way. Harry gave Margaret her first horse when she was five years old. She loved riding then, but Princess got sick and died a few years later, and something went out of Margaret when that happened."
"Princess?" Katherine echoed. Her mother had had a horse named Princess?
"Yes. After that, Margaret avoided the stables and spent most of her time in the garden." Claire paused. "Did she have a garden where you lived?"
"We had plants in our apartment when I was small. All over the place as I recall." Katherine felt the words choke her throat. She hadn't thought about that apartment in years. "When my mother married Mitchell, he had incredible gardens behind the house and a full-time gardener to take care of them. I remember my mother walking out there every night at sunset."
"Was she happy?" Claire asked, a desperate note in her voice.
She heard the yearning in Claire's voice and was helplessly touched. Whatever her reasons for letting Margaret go, Claire, at least, had loved her daughter.
"I think so. She did love California. We went to the beach all the time, and she always said the ocean made her feel peaceful, satisfied."
"That's something, I guess."
"I need to speak to Zach."
"And then you'll come back," Claire said firmly. "I want to show you Margaret's room. I want to tell you about her."
And she wanted to know all the details of the life her mother had lived before she was born. "All right. I'll come back -- for a while anyway." She looked over at Harry, at his sharp cold eyes. "I don't know why you would want to leave your farm, your business, to me when Zach has poured his heart, his soul, into this place."
"This farm has been in the Stanton family for four generations. You're the last of that family."
"I'm not sure I want your farm."
"And I'm not sure I want to give it to you," he said shortly. "But we both have a duty to family."
"I don't have a duty to you. I don't even know you. You kicked my mother out. I owe you nothing."
"Maybe you owe your mother something."
"If she'd wanted me to know about you, she would have told me."
"Maybe she would have -- if she'd lived," Claire interjected. "Margaret had a good life here, Katherine."
"Then why didn't she ever come back?"
Claire couldn't give her an answer. Neither could Harry.
"Maybe my father could answer that question," Katherine said. "Are you sure neither of you knows who he is?"
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