Southern Romantic-Suspense Boxed Set (Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel Book 0)

by Carmen DeSousa

  Karen and Cassandra spent the entire weekend setting up their apartment and scouting the area.

  While Cassandra sought out locations to study away from their apartment, Karen did what she did best: hunted down where all the cute guys hung out.

  It was sure to be an adventurous arrangement living with Karen. It wasn’t that Cassandra wasn’t interested in men, she was. She just hadn’t met the right one yet. Of course, Karen’s complaint was always, “How are you going to meet the right guy if you don’t date?”

  Cassandra knew it was probably true, but hoped it wasn’t. Did she have to date a hundred guys to find the perfect man; was she even looking for Mister Right? No, she wasn’t, not really. She had no less than seven years of school, then she would have another five to ten years of working for a firm to achieve her goals.

  So the answer was easy; she’d start looking for a man by age twenty-eight, marry by thirty, and have her first child by thirty-five. It was a good plan.

  After all, her mother had been nineteen when she’d gotten pregnant with her and twenty-six when she’d realized she didn’t want her anymore.

  Right on schedule, Cassandra’s phone rang; he’d said he would call the second he arrived home from work.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Cassandra answered, sighing dramatically. “You don’t have to call every day.”

  “Well, we didn’t have an opportunity to talk yesterday. You were too busy unpacking. Did the moving van arrive?”

  “Right on schedule … like everything you do.”

  “Good. So … what do you think? Do you like your new place?”

  “It’s incredible, Dad. There’s a mountain in my backyard. And there are so many places to explore. Everything looks as though it has a history; the houses, buildings, even the churches. There is so much culture to absorb; I feel as if I could go sightseeing for years.”

  “Well, I’m delighted you are enjoying it … just don’t get too attached. I’d like to see you on breaks, and I want you to return home when you graduate. Imagine, sweetheart … working in the same firm, a father-daughter team, it’ll be wonderful.”

  Cassandra remained quiet as her father rambled on about her future; he had everything mapped out too.

  Her father finally stopped speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away. We have years to discuss this.”

  “I just —” She paused before continuing. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “I want to make it on my own, Dad. You know … work my way up, like you.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry; you’ll still have to do that, Cassandra. You’ll just have an opportunity the majority of new graduates don’t get. You’ll have a foot in the door, but you’ll still have to prove your worth. I may be one of the partners, but the decision to hire new graduates is a judgment made by all the partners.”

  “Okay, Daddy. As long as I’ll be able to prove that I’m self-sufficient, I suppose that is acceptable.”

  “Enough semantics. You still have years of college to finish. Tell me more about your journey and your new apartment.”

  Cassandra discussed their road trip in detail, their exploration of the greater Lynchburg area, and her new domicile. Her father was a wonderful listener. He’d done a fantastic job as a single parent. It hadn’t been easy managing a career and rearing a female child, but he’d done a wonderful job.

  It’d been a little embarrassing, however, when he decided it was time to inform her about the facts of life, even though she’d begged him not to. But he’d wanted to discuss more than just the birds and the bees. He’d surprised her at the detail he went into discussing teenage hormones and love, admitting how he’d mistakenly gotten her mother pregnant, even using protection, and that her mother had felt compelled to marry him, but then had been unhappy with her decision.

  Her father insisted how important it was that she maintained control of her destiny, and the only way to have safe sex was not to have sex at all.

  Cassandra had cringed at the direction a simple conversation about the birds and the bees had transformed into an anti-pregnancy discussion and warnings about sexually transmitted diseases.

  She’d assured her father that she understood and inside knew she never wanted to disappoint him. He meant everything to her. So for him, she abstained. While other girls were either fooling around or actually having sex, Cassandra swayed away from anything that would lead to a romantic relationship. Besides, there was always the twenty-eight plan she had to adhere to. She couldn’t deviate from that diagram. She wouldn’t be like her mother; she would never leave her husband and child.

  (Four Years Later)

  After stuffing her suitcase into the tiny trunk of her Mustang, Cassandra closed the lid.

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” her best friend pleaded for the hundredth time in weeks. “It’s Cancun for Pete’s sake. Besides, this is it, Cass. I’m finished with college. I know you have three more years, but I’m history. Please …” her girlfriend whined again.

  One hundred and one, Cassandra thought. “I have to see my father, Karen.”

  “But even your dad said you should go.”

  “I know … that’s the problem. He always insists he wants me to go away on breaks, but I can tell he really prefers it when I visit him. This time he acted as if he didn’t want me home. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being melodramatic, but something doesn’t feel right. We’ll get together soon. You’re moving back to Florida, so I’ll see you over Christmas.”

  Karen released a long breath in response. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “That’s true,” she said, smiling. “There’ll be no one bugging you to return to the hotel. No nag harassing you something’s unsafe. You’ll be free to be your wild self.”

  Karen rolled her eyes.

  “But seriously, Karen, please try to remain safe. Pretend I’m there annoying you to discontinue whatever you’re doing. Will you do that, please?”

  Karen stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m gonna miss you, Cass. You’re like my mother and girlfriend all rolled into one tidy package.”

  Cassandra returned her friend’s squeeze, then threw her head back to look her in the eyes with a solemn stare. “You’re like family too, Karen. A younger, always-in-trouble sister who has grown too big to control.”

  Karen leaned back from their embrace and grinned. “I love you too, Cass. Off with you. Drive safely, no picking up strangers,” she teased, wagging a finger. “And stay in the hotel this evening. No wandering off like you’re prone to do, young lady … wait … that’s me.”

  She closed her door and lowered the window. “Bye, Karen. Call me as soon as you return. Love ya like a sis!” she called out her final farewell, driving off nervously, praying her friend didn’t end up like some of the other college girls she’d heard had been abducted.

  Cassandra knew she didn’t have to drive the two days; she could have completed it in one. But as always, her father had said that driving halfway and staying at a hotel was the safest way.

  Pulling her car into the garage, she left her luggage and ran through the mudroom into the kitchen, anxious to see her father. The entire downstairs of the house was dark, even though it was only five in the afternoon.

  “Dad?” she called out, informing him she had arrived. Apprehension tickled at her insides, making her feel queasy. He had to be home; his Mercedes was in the garage.

  Making her way upstairs, she crossed the long hallway to her father’s room. Her father’s door wasn’t open. She was hesitant whether to knock or simply turn the handle, wondering what he was doing home so early and in a silent and gloomy house. Normally, he would be watching some commentator or the nightly news or even be cooking if he was home early waiting for her arrival.

  Her heart raced faster as she reached for the doorknob. “Dad … you home?” she attempted again. She didn’t want to stumble on something she’d rather not encounter.

  “One second, sweetheart,” he
r father’s voice came from the opposite side of the door.

  Relief washed over her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been worried about, but suddenly she felt certain he was withholding information.

  A few minutes passed, and her father opened the bedroom door. He stood before her dressed in casual khakis and a polo shirt, not his typical work attire. A large smile spread across his face as he held his arms out for her, but there was something unusual about his smile. It appeared strained. As though he were in pain.

  As they hugged, she realized the other difference. Her father — who’d always been in excellent physical shape — was practically skin and bones. She was able to fold her arms completely around him.

  She pulled back to look into his eyes and saw a sheen of water over them. “What is it, Dad?”

  “Let’s go downstairs, Cassandra. We need to talk.”

  Inundated with grief, tears snaked aimlessly down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried in years.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he offered, pulling her against his side as he led her down the hallway. He descended the stairs as if taking care not to fall.

  When they reached the formal sitting area, he took a seat in his favorite wingback chair, motioning that she sit across from him. She sank onto the loveseat facing her father, preparing herself for what he was going to say, something she’d already deduced. The tears continued to fall; there was no stopping them.

  “Cassandra, please don’t cry, sweetheart. You know how I hate to see you cry.”

  She sniffed and bit down on her bottom lip, attempting to impede the tears.

  “I assume you already understand what’s happening, so I won’t have to pull any punches.”

  She nodded, unable to put her belief into words.

  “I’m dying, Cassandra. I have prostate cancer and before you inquire … I’ve gone through every treatment possible. I’ve had hormone therapy, chemotherapy, and radiation therapy. I’m no longer able to persist, as my blood count has been unstable. They switched to blood transfusions, attempting to raise my white blood cells, but it’s pointless. You probably don’t remember, but your grandfather died of the same illness, as did my uncle.”

  “But you’re only forty-six. Isn’t prostate cancer restricted to older males in their late fifties and sixties?”

  “That’s correct, sweetheart, but who understands why things happen?”

  Tired of being analytical, Cassandra threw herself off the loveseat into her father’s arms. Her father and she had always been so serious. They had their fun, but they were both entirely too solemn, and now she was out of time.

  He pulled back to look at her, and she shrunk down in front of him, her hands clasped in his. They felt so fragile, not the big, strong hands that had always held hers.

  “How long, Daddy?” she asked, terrified of hearing his answer. Why hadn’t he told her earlier so she could have been home?

  He brushed her hair away from her face. “There’s no way to know, sweetheart. It could be days, possibly months. Some days I feel great, like today, and then others, I can’t even roll out of bed. I hardly keep anything down, and that doesn’t help; it makes me weak. I usually feel pretty good after the blood transfusion, more energy anyway, but then that too fades quickly.”

  She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been here for you.”

  “I don’t want you to see me like this, Cassandra. Mrs. Gonzalez has been coming to help; I’ve been okay.” He attempted to convince her with a smile, but his face was pensive. He hated being fragile.

  Cassandra squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Well, I’m staying now, Dad. I’ll take care of you.”

  He shook his head. “You most certainly will not. You have college. I won’t have you wasting your life away taking care of me. I won’t tolerate it. You’ll finish college and then start your career, the way it should be. I’ve arranged to prepay your final three years, so you shouldn’t have any troubles. I’m afraid I don’t have much more to offer. There’s a little money coming from life insurance, but other than that, the medical expenses have drained me. I’m sorry, honey. I wish I’d known. I would have made better preparations for your future.”

  “Dad, I don’t care about money!” she shrieked. “I care about you!”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his embrace. How much more time was she allowed with her father? Why did God persist in taking everyone away from her she needed and loved?

  The week passed swiftly and before Cassandra knew it, it was time to return to Lynchburg. She begged, unsuccessfully, not to leave, but her father refused. He didn’t want her home when he departed this life. He’d always been blunt with her, but this infuriated her. She needed to be with him; she had to assist him.

  In the end, her father had won the argument, insisting she return to college in Virginia, promising he would call her if his condition worsened.

  Two weeks later, Cassandra received the call she’d been dreading. Her caretaker for nearly ten years discovered her father in his bed, having died peacefully in his sleep, she assured her. The previous evening he’d been up walking around and had even managed to eat dinner.

  “We laughed over dinner,” Mrs. Gonzalez said, “Over the first dinner you’d prepared for him,” the woman continued, trying not to cry, but Cassandra could hear her despair. “He said you worked so hard, but had burnt the casserole dish. Your father was a good man … He ate it anyway, didn’t he?”

  “Yes … he did. Thank you for calling me. I have to go.” Cassandra disconnected the phone and then spent the entirety of the evening weeping.

  At least her father wasn’t in pain anymore. He was in heaven with her grandparents, she assured herself, attempting to console herself with the idea of heaven. Did she really believe? She’d always believed in God, but she didn’t understand. Intellectually, her mind battled with the validity of God’s existence. There was no way He could exist, but at the same time, there was no way He couldn’t exist either.

  The further she tried to wrap her head around God’s sovereignty, though, the more upset she became. Why would God take everyone she loved away from her? Why would a good God allow pain and suffering?

  Emotionally spent and exhausted from the last two weeks of worrying, she cried herself to sleep.

  When Cassandra awoke the next morning, the pit in her stomach was worse. Had it all been a dream? Had her father really left her?

  When her mother left her when she was six years old, he’d promised he would never leave her or allow anyone to take her away from him. They were a team, he’d said, mapping out their future together. They would work together, and then she would marry and provide him with grandchildren. He’d made her promise she would have several children that he could spoil rotten.

  Instinctively, she knew he would have; he’d always been wonderful to her. He should have remarried years ago, but he refused to date, insisting there was plenty of time for relationships later. He’d always said that she was his number one priority. She’d reveled in the notion he wanted only to be with her, but now she realized she’d been selfish. She should have insisted he live his life. And now, he was gone.

  Cassandra picked up the phone and dialed the number of her father’s house. The answering machine picked up after several rings. Her father’s calm, clear voice came on the line, “You’ve reached the office of James D’Silva. I’m unavailable at the moment, but I’ll return your call promptly.”

  He’d never return her call again. She launched her head into her pillow, crying until she fell asleep again.

  When Cassandra awoke the second time, she knew she needed to take care of business. Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to lie there and wither away.

  After making airline reservations to Florida, she packed a bag and was out of the house in under an hour.

  The following morning, she sat in front of an estate attorney at her father’s firm.

  The elderl
y man’s dark eyes were gentle as he tried to assure her that he’d take care of all the arrangements. “Everything has been arranged, Cassandra. Your father saw to all the funeral preparations so you wouldn’t have to worry.” Mr. Wilson gave her a weak smile. “In addition, he listed the house for sale several months ago, but unfortunately the real-estate market in Tampa Bay was one of the worst hit in the nation. He’d hoped to obtain enough equity to pay off your remaining college tuition and apartment at Liberty. It doesn’t look as if that is going to happen, so you’ll have to use the life-insurance policy.”

  She blanched. “But my father —” She gasped for air, not certain how to finish. She didn’t want to think about this. Money wasn’t important. But what would she do? How would she finish college? A hundred thousand wouldn’t be enough to cover three years of law school, not to mention housing expenses.

  “They drained him, Cassandra. The insurance company would only pay so much of his care. He made arrangements with me that as soon as the house sold, I was to pay off your schooling, but it’s not looking good. Nobody could have anticipated the market would have turned so unexpectedly.” Mr. Wilson pulled in a deep breath. “Cassandra, I have taken up a collection, and the firm is going to pay the difference so you can continue your college, and then of course, we’ll have a position waiting when you graduate.”

  She was shell-shocked. How could this be happening? Her father had always taken care of everything.

  Standing abruptly, unsure what to do next, wanting nothing more than to escape, but grateful for the offer, she finally spoke, “Thank you, Mr. Wilson.” She inhaled deeply, feeling as though she would plummet to the floor any second. “That was extremely kind. Are we finished? Is there anything else you need me to do?”