Читать книгу A Mother's Secret - Gabrielle Meyer - Страница 14

Chase pulled his phone from his back pocket and stepped out the front door of the house. Bright sunshine filtered through the massive pine trees lining the circle drive. An old tennis court and pool house sat on the sprawling front lawn, and stone pathways crisscrossed over the property, leading down the hill at the back of the mansion to the river beyond. Why had Chase waited so long to return to Bee Tree Hill? He had been in Italy on business when he got word that Uncle Morgan had passed. It had been impossible to get a flight home on such short notice, so he had missed the funeral. He should have made a point to come back to visit before Uncle Morgan died, even if it meant facing his past mistakes.

He walked to a double gliding swing and sat, tapping the phone icon on his screen. He found his father’s number and pressed Call.

It rang several times and then his father answered. “Did you have any trouble getting in?”

“Hi, Dad.” Chase could imagine his father sitting in his office in downtown Seattle, mist outside the large windows, and a view of the Space Needle not too far away.

“What do you need, Chase?”

Taking a deep breath, he rose from the swing, not able to stay still. “We have a problem.”

There was a pause. “What kind of problem?”

Chase didn’t want to tell his father that Joy was the one living in the house. If he knew who it was, he would probably call Chase home and send someone else to deal with the situation.

“Apparently, Uncle Morgan had moved into the carriage house a couple years ago and was letting a woman live in the mansion. She’s a foster mom and has five kids. Mrs. Thompson is still living here, too, helping with the kids.”

“What’s the problem?”

Chase rubbed the tension in the back of his neck as he paced across the manicured lawn. “She told me that Uncle Morgan wanted her to stay here, even after his death.”

“I’m sure she did.” Dad’s sarcastic words were flat and devoid of emotion. “Tell her she has a week to vacate the premises.”

“I can’t do that.”

Dead silence on the other end of the phone wasn’t a good sign.

The boys ran out of the house, shouting and hollering in excitement as they disappeared around the corner of the mansion. Chase moved in that direction, drawn to their enthusiasm.

“The mom has nowhere to go,” Chase continued. “Not to mention Mrs. Thompson. She’s lived here for at least thirty years. Where will she go?”

“That’s not my problem. My grandfather built Bee Tree Hill and when he died, he left the estate to the corporation. We allowed Uncle Morgan to live there, because it was the only home he’d ever known. Now that he’s dead and there are no other Ashers living in Timber Falls, we can finally sell the estate. I won’t let a woman and her kids dictate what we do with the place.”

Uncle Morgan had shared the history of the estate with Chase when he’d stayed with him four years ago. Chase’s great-great-grandfather was a lumber baron in Illinois who had sent each of his sons to a different location in the Western United States to build sawmills in the 1890s. He sent John, Chase’s great-grandfather, to Timber Falls, Minnesota, and that’s when John built Bee Tree Hill. Uncle Morgan was one of John’s sons. He was born and raised in the mansion, and had chosen to stay when the rest of the family moved to Seattle where the company was now headquartered. The property had been part of the family legacy for over a century and it seemed like a shame to sell it now, but it wasn’t up to Chase.

“It’s going to take me at least a month to get the place ready to sell,” Chase said, trying to buy time for Joy and the kids. “I need to have an appraiser look at a hundred years’ worth of antiques and collectibles, not to mention all the work that needs to be done around here. It could take another month or so to find a buyer after that. Why can’t we let her stay until we sell the place? Timber Falls is a small town. It would look bad for the corporation if we kicked out a foster mom, her five kids and an old woman with little warning.”

Dad hated looking bad. It was the reason he had stepped in when he heard Chase wanted to marry Joy. One of the first things he said to Chase was, “What would it look like if you married a woman who grew up in foster care?” He had different plans for Chase, which included marrying the daughter of one of his business partners. But Chase had messed that up, too. Tamara was tired of waiting for Chase to set a wedding date after being engaged for three years, so she left him just before he went to Italy. It wasn’t even two months since their breakup and she had already become engaged to someone else.

“Fine.” Dad’s voice was louder than it needed to be. “She can stay, but only until the end of July. That should give her plenty of time to find a place to live.”

Relief filled Chase. At least Joy had two months to figure out a different plan. He took the stone steps down the hill, toward the river and the sound of the boys playing. “What about Mrs. Thompson?”

“I don’t care about the staff.” Dad was the president and CEO of the Asher Corporation and he’d earned his way to the top by being a hard-nosed businessman. His lack of empathy was famous in the Asher family, but very few people understood it as well as Chase. “She should have planned better,” Dad said. “Let her stay until the end of July, too, but not a day longer. And keep an eye on all of them. Once they know they’re being evicted, they’ll probably start selling off the antiques.”

Chase had nothing but respect for Joy and Mrs. Thompson and he knew they would never stoop so low. “I will.”

“Chase.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mess this up, too. It’s an easy job. That’s why I sent you to do it.” His father hung up without a goodbye.

Chase lowered his phone and stared at the home screen for a second. His parents had divorced years ago, and his mother hardly spoke to his father anymore. Chase’s aunts, uncles and cousins also kept their distance. The only person who spoke to Malcolm, besides Chase, was his aunt Constance. She and Uncle Morgan had been siblings. She was the last family member from that generation to remain alive and she took it upon herself to remind Malcolm—and the rest of the family—where they came from.

What would it be like to have a father he could lean on for support or a word of wisdom? Aunt Constance said Dad wasn’t always this way. His love of money and power had turned him into a ruthless man. He wanted Chase to take over the business one day, but if Chase followed in his steps, would he become like his dad?

The day he had walked away from Joy, he suspected he had the ability to become ruthless. But how did he stop the trajectory of his life, when he wanted to please his father, despite all the pain and heartache his father had caused?

Chase found the boys near a large basswood tree, a pile of old lumber sitting at the base, and another pile nailed to the tree in a dangerous, haphazard way. The oldest boy had a handful of nails and one of the smaller boys held a hammer.

“What are you boys doing?” Chase asked, his hands in his pockets.

“Building a tree fort,” the smallest one said. “Did you ever build a tree fort?”

Chase hadn’t spent much time playing outside as a kid. In the summer, when most boys were building tree forts, he was inside with a tutor, hired to teach him French and trigonometry. His father wanted him to be the smartest student in his class, but all Chase wanted was freedom to play like a normal kid. “No, but I always wanted one.”

“Do you like our fort?” The oldest pointed up into the tree.

Chase tried to keep his face from showing his real thoughts about the mess in the tree. “That looks a little dangerous.”

“It’s okay, if we’re careful.” The boy started to climb a makeshift ladder they had nailed into one of the trunks of the massive tree. The strip of wood spun and his foot slipped off.

“I think you better not climb up there.” Chase was tall enough to push on one of the boards. It dislodged and fell between the trunks. “Does your mom know you’re building this?”

The oldest boy shrugged.

“Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“Will you help us?” the youngest asked, his blue eyes wide with hope.

Chase had a hundred things he needed to do, but none of it sounded half as fun as building a tree fort. The boys had a couple months left at Bee Tree Hill, why not give them good memories while he could? “We can ask your mom if it’s okay at supper. If she says yes, then we can make our plans for a proper tree fort.”

The boys cheered and dropped all their supplies.

“Let’s go now,” said the oldest.

“We can wait for supper.” Chase smiled at the kids, their enthusiasm contagious. “I don’t even know your names.”

“I’m Ryan,” said the oldest. “I’m eight. Jordan is seven, and Kodi is six.”

“I’m Chase.” He wasn’t sure if Joy wanted them to call him Mr. Asher, but he didn’t want to sound so formal. People called his dad Mr. Asher. “I’ll be living in the carriage house for a while.”

“Come on, Chase.” Kodi took his hand and tugged him toward the barn on the south end of the property. For some reason, his fingers were covered in chocolate. “We’ll show you where we got the wood.”

He let go of Chase’s hand and took off running down the road that led around the base of the hill. Ryan and Jordan trailed after their little brother, glancing over their shoulders to make sure Chase was following.

It was bad enough forcing Joy and Mrs. Thompson out of their home, but even worse evicting kids. There had to be a way to keep them all at Bee Tree Hill.

He owed it to Joy to at least try.

The aroma of Mrs. Thompson’s famous lasagna and garlic bread wafted through the house as Joy picked up the coloring books and crayons the girls had left on the dining room table. She had sent them off to the kitchen to wash up for dinner when she had caught sight of Chase walking toward the house with the boys.

Several things had distracted him when he first arrived, and he probably hadn’t had time to think about Kinsley and Harper’s age, or the fact that they had his nose and hair. She’d come to accept that it would be impossible to keep them away from Chase forever. If he suspected he was their father and asked, she wouldn’t lie, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell him, either.

“Mama?” Kodi ran into the house, his big brothers close on his heels. He was the youngest of the boys, but he usually led the way. “Can we build a tree fort with Chase?”

Chase followed the boys into the dining room, his hair windblown and his eyes sparkling.

Joy’s breath caught at the sight of him and it took her a moment to compose her thoughts. Why did he have to be so good-looking?

“I’m sure Mr. Asher has enough to keep busy.” Joy set the coloring books and crayons in a built-in hutch. The dining room, just like the rest of the house, still retained its historic flavor. Thick trim, painted a creamy white, dominated the room, while a chandelier hung over the long walnut table. She kept a tablecloth on it at all times to protect it from the inevitable scratches and dents the kids would inflict on the expensive wood. All the rooms in the house were full of Asher family heirlooms, and it was a full-time job keeping them safe from the kids.

“They can call me Chase,” he said, but then added quickly, “if that’s okay with you.”

It wasn’t okay with her. She’d rather he keep a professional distance from the kids. But one look at their expectant faces and she knew it was already too late.

“Can we build the fort?” Ryan asked, his freckles already becoming more prominent from the sunshine and being outside during the warmer weather. “Chase said he’d help, but we had to ask you first.”

Joy searched Chase’s face. He almost looked as excited and eager as the boys. “Would you like to build them a tree fort?”

He nodded, his mouth tilting up in a smile. “I would.”

“It’ll be better than the one we built,” Ryan said with assurance.

How could she say no to this request? The boys didn’t have many male role models in their life—and though she would have chosen someone other than Chase, it seemed that God had brought him here.

Hopefully not for long.

“Did you speak to your father?” she asked Chase.

“Mama!” the three boys called out impatiently.

“Can we build a fort?” Jordan asked.

It didn’t pay to fight them. She put her hands on Jordan’s cheeks and smiled down into his adorable little face. “You can build your tree fort, but only when Mr. Asher has time. Don’t bug him if he’s busy.” She knew how persistent these children could be. They would drive him crazy if she didn’t stop them.

“Yes!” Ryan pumped his fist in the air and the other two tried to mimic him.

“Now go wash up for supper.” She ruffled Kodi’s hair as he ran past.

The door between the butler’s pantry and the dining room swung on its hinge after the boys rushed through. It squeaked mercilessly.

Chase walked over to the door and opened and closed it a few times. “I’d be happy to fix this for you.”

It had been making that noise for weeks, and Joy would be grateful to have it fixed, but she didn’t want Chase in the house, if she could help it. “I can take care of it.”

“It’s why I came, Joy.” He went to the French doors that led from the fountain room into the dining room and ran his hand over a piece of trim that had come loose. “If you have time tomorrow, I’d like to go through the whole house and make a list of the minor repairs that need attention. If there’s something major, I’ll call a professional.”

Joy was conscious of being alone with Chase, even if her kids and Mrs. Thompson were on the other side of the butler’s pantry. While Chase had called his father, she had run up to her room, pulled her hair out of the messy bun, changed into some cuffed jeggings and put on a nice shirt. She’d even touched up her makeup and slipped on a pair of sandals. She told herself she had done it because he was a guest, and she usually tried to look nice when she entertained—but she knew she had done it because there was still a part of her that didn’t feel worthy of Chase Asher. It was a part that had been with her since she was a child in her first foster home. She was always viewed as the dirty, unlovable kid that no one wanted. When Chase left her, it only confirmed that belief.

“I didn’t realize you were the handy type,” Joy said, wanting to change the course of her thoughts. She was now a respectable adult, raising a houseful of kids. She didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.

He smiled as he continued around the dining room inspecting the trim, the windows, even the wallpaper. “When I was here last time—” He paused and glanced at her, regret on his face. “About that, Joy. I’d like to explain why—”

She lifted her hand to stop him. “Please don’t.” There was nothing he could say to make up for what he had done to her. She’d rather they not discuss it.

Chase let out a long sigh. “Mr. Thompson took me under his wing that summer and taught me a lot. I helped him with several projects and found I had the knack for handiwork. You can trust me.”

Trust him. How could she ever trust him again?

“Dinner’s ready.” Mrs. Thompson poked her head into the dining room. “Come and get it.”

“Aren’t we eating in here?” Chase asked.

Joy wrinkled her nose. “We prefer to eat in the kitchen. The dining room feels too formal.”

She led him into the butler’s pantry and through another swinging door into the kitchen. The room wasn’t overly large, but it was big enough for a table and chairs. A large window looked out at the river, displaying the late evening sun glistening off the water.

“It smells delicious, Mrs. Thompson.” Chase went to the sink and washed his hands. “I remember your lasagna well.”

Mrs. Thompson grinned. “I thought you would. I once made a pan, just for you.” Her eyes grew wide when she looked at the children. “And he ate the whole thing in one sitting!”

“Whoa!” Ryan said, clearly impressed by such a feat.

“Hello again,” Chase said to Harper and Kinsley, who were seated in their booster chairs at the table, large bibs covering their pink and purple overalls.

Joy held her breath while her pulse ticked in her wrists. Would he recognize them as his daughters now?

“Sit here,” Kinsley ordered Chase, pointing to the chair beside her.

“Please,” Joy reminded her, watching Chase closely. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t show them.

“I’d be happy to sit beside you,” Chase answered, “but you better not try to steal my lasagna.”

Kinsley’s dimpled grin lit up her face. “I eat all your lasagna!”

“Not if I can help it.” Chase laughed with the little girl and Joy’s heart squeezed at the sight. From the moment she knew the girls were on their way, to this moment now, she had always wondered what it would have been like if Chase had chosen her over his family money. All throughout her uncertain pregnancy, while she was giving birth and in the long months afterward when she was trying to finish college and get a job, she had been so angry at him. As a child, she had promised herself a different life for her children than the one she had been dealt—yet here she was, a single woman, trying to do the work of both mom and dad. She couldn’t even guarantee a place for the kids to live.

Harper sat across the table from Kinsley and Chase, uncertainty in her dark brown eyes. She was the least likely of Joy’s children to embrace a stranger, but when she allowed someone into her heart, she held on to them fiercely. Joy had witnessed it in the Sunday school classroom, in her preschool classroom and in their interactions with neighbors and friends. Would Harper ever embrace Chase?

“Hello, Harper.” Chase must have noticed the little girl’s frown as she stared at him.

Harper didn’t respond, but put her head down on her folded arms.

The food was already on the table, so Joy took a seat beside Harper and laid her hand on her back. “Harper is just a little shy around strangers,” she tried to explain—though why she felt the need to clarify anything to Chase was a mystery to her. After the way he had left her, he deserved very little from her or the children.

“Let’s say grace.” Joy took Harper’s and Jordan’s hands and bowed her head, but she kept her eyes open to see how Chase would handle praying with the family. When he had been in Timber Falls the last time, they had spent hours talking about their questions concerning God. It wasn’t until after the girls were born, and Mrs. Thompson had introduced Joy to the members of her church, that Joy had embraced her faith. Had Chase become a believer, too?

He didn’t hesitate, but took Kinsley’s hand in one and Ryan’s hand in the other. He also bowed his head, but caught her watching him before he closed his eyes. His smile was soft and gentle, but it made her cheeks burn.

Closing her eyes tight, she prayed, “Lord, thank You for this meal, this family and all Your provisions. Amen.”

“And thank You for Chase,” Kodi added quickly. “And the tree fort he’s going to build us.”

“Amen,” everyone else echoed.

“Tree fort?” Kinsley’s eyes grew wide. “I come to your tree fort?”

“No, Kinney, you’re too little,” Kodi told her as he took a piece of bread from the basket passing by.

“I not too little!” She frowned indignantly, crossing her arms.

Chase smiled. “Would you like some salad, Miss Kinsley?”

Her frown deepened and she wrinkled her nose. “Carrots are yucky.”

“Then pick them out,” Joy told her daughter.

Kinsley started to pick out the carrot sticks on her plate. While Chase was helping Jordan, she quietly set the offensive vegetables on Chase’s plate.

“What’s this?” Chase asked when he finished with Jordan. He hadn’t placed anything on his plate yet, so the carrots were obviously not his.

Kinsley took a bite out of her garlic bread. “They’re yucky.”

“Then why would I want them?” he asked.

“Because you’re an adult,” Kodi supplied, as if the answer was obvious. “And adults eat their vegetables. Right, Mom?”

Joy nodded, hiding a smile. “Kids should eat their vegetables, too.”

A chorus of complaints filled the kitchen and then the conversation shifted in a dozen different directions. Since Chase was new to the kids, he was the center of their attention, and he answered all their questions patiently.

Joy watched him interact with the kids while a deep sadness overtook her. Why couldn’t things have been different? Why had he told her he loved her four years ago, when he didn’t plan to stick around and prove it to her? Were they just flowery words, used to get what he wanted?

It didn’t matter anymore. She had learned her lesson.

She’d never trust Chase Asher again.