Читать книгу A Southern Reunion - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 10

CASSIE STARTED LAUGHING.

Then she gulped in a deep breath, mortified that she’d let him get to her so quickly. She was laughing because this was so unbelievable. But she wanted to have a good long cry. Or maybe a good, long hissy fit. But a Brennan didn’t behave that way. She would show some backbone. Her pride wouldn’t allow anything less.

“Don’t tell me you’re doing this for me, Cal. How can you even think I’d fall for that? I didn’t know my father was ill or that you’d come back to work for him. And you’re not even married to Marsha. You don’t have a child with her. But you were with her again today, of all days. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about that over the years?” She stopped, shaking her head. “I imagined what your son or daughter would look like. Wondered why you didn’t marry Marsha.” And why he didn’t bother to come and find her. She leaned back in the chair. “Forgive me if I sound doubtful. I’ll need time to let this soak in.”

Cal touched a hand to the rocking chair. “Contrary to what you saw today, Marsha and I are history.”

“History?” Cassie felt sick to her stomach, the few bites of ice cream she’d managed to swallow churning through her insides like sour milk. “That scene out on the front porch looked pretty current to me.”

He jabbed a hand through his hair, his expression etched in anger and frustration. “She and Teresa keep in touch so she still comes around sometimes…thinking—”

“Thinking she’s the one, the way she told me a long time ago that she would always be the one you loved? That she would always be the one you turned to? Thinking maybe since you’re back here, and you and I are history that she’ll be able to take up with you again? Whether you were married or not, there’s a lot of history still brewing between you and Marsha, I think.”

And the one jarring realization of that was that he hadn’t even cared enough to find Cassie and tell her the truth. He hadn’t even tried to fight for what they’d had together. Or what she’d thought they’d had. But then, neither had she.

“You never bothered to find out what happened,” he said, slinging the words at her as if he’d read every thought in her head. “You just left, Cassie. You never looked back and you never tried to find me. So don’t go accusing me.”

Hurt and feeling as if she were seventeen again, Cassie moved off the porch. She wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt she’d seen in his eyes. It couldn’t be real. “I don’t have to accuse you, Cal. I caught the two of you together, remember?”

He looked down at her then shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” She started walking away, her heart so heavy it was hard to breathe. Then she turned back. “I came home because my father asked me. But while I’m here, maybe you and I need to keep our distance. And maybe Marsha should stop personally delivering produce. Especially since we have a garden of our own.”

With that, she whirled and stomped back toward the main house, all the while remembering the nights long ago when she’d run barefoot at midnight out here amid the camellias and roses to find Cal waiting underneath an old live oak draped in Spanish moss. Remembering how he’d take her into his arms and kiss her over and over until she thought she’d die from loving him and wanting him.

I didn’t die, she told herself as she hurried toward the mansion. I survived and I left.

But her heart had certainly died. She’d gone on to college, burying her hurt in her studies, working at any job she could get, hoping to find a way to get past her mother’s death and her father’s cold, uncaring attitude.

And Cal. She’d been trying for years to get past the hurt of Cal’s betrayal.

Now that she was back and had seen him in action again, maybe she’d be able to finally accomplish that. Somehow.

CAL WATCHED HER GO, wishing he could call her back and take her into his arms. Wishing he could make her see that he’d never stopped loving her and that he’d never wanted to hurt her. But how could he convince Cassie that he had not and did not love Marsha? It was way too late to make excuses for that now. Now, he had to keep this place intact and solid so she’d inherit more than a bankruptcy notice. He’d made a promise to her dying father and he aimed to keep that promise. For Cassie’s sake.

Even if he’d never be able to explain that to her.

Cassie had made a name for herself and was rumored to be one of the most successful women under thirty in Georgia now that her design business had taken off. But the mounting debts on Camellia Plantation could wipe her clean if he didn’t finish what he’d started. He wouldn’t tell her the truth. Marcus had to be the one to do that. Marcus had made both Cal and Teresa promise not to discuss his situation with anyone unless he gave them permission. Teresa had agreed because after her husband’s death, her job here was the only thing she had left.

And Cal had agreed because he couldn’t walk away from a dying man’s last request. And he couldn’t walk away from Cassie a second time, even if she’d walked away from him. He wanted Marcus and his daughter to reconcile before it was too late. He wanted Cassie to be able to return to the home she’d always loved, knowing that her father had finally forgiven both of them—and himself.

Cal would work day and night to make sure this plantation didn’t get auctioned off to the highest bidder. Marcus wanted this place to stay in Cassie’s hands. That much was evident.

And Cal was here to make sure that happened. Somehow.

Cassie’s manners had shielded him from the worst of her pent-up anger. He didn’t care as long as she was here and safe. Before Cal had agreed to take this job, he’d forced Marcus to promise that he’d reconcile with Cassie. That was all Cal really wanted and the main reason he’d agreed to come back here in the first place. It had taken several months of weeding through the financial mess and the depths of Marcus’s sickness to convince Marcus he needed to honor that promise before it was too late.

And then, Marcus had come back at Cal with an ultimatum. One that had left Cal reeling. One that would only work if Cassie agreed to it. Which she most certainly wouldn’t.

But she was here now, good or bad. It was a start.

Cal would settle for that, at least. And he’d do his best to save this plantation.

Because he knew what he really wanted couldn’t happen.

He’d never have Cassie back in his arms again.

CASSIE STEPPED OUT OF THE shower and draped a big, fluffy white towel around her body. Her room had been redecorated to look updated and fresh but the memories remained, dark and misty and edged in a lacy haze of pain. But somebody had remembered how much she loved the color green. Probably Teresa.

The cherry-wood four-poster bed had been in her family for generations and was as solid as the day it had been hand-built. A bright green-and-peach floral comforter matched the dainty green brocade chaise lounge sitting near the French doors that opened out onto the upstairs gallery. Bright red, green and peach cushions lay against the chaise and across the shams on the bed. A mint-green chenille throw also lay across the chaise.

The matching mahogany dresser and vanity were also antique, but polished to a high sheen. The sweet fresh scents of lemon oil and vanilla merged with Cassie’s magnolia-blossom shower gel to make the big square room smell like a summer garden.

She walked barefoot across the plush cream carpet, her toes digging into the heavy threads. When she reached the big double windows that looked out onto the backyard, she remembered the first time she’d seen Cal. She’d been standing right out there on the porch, but her room had been done up in deep pinks, bright greens and crisp white back then, with a rose-and-camellia motif mixed in with rock-star posters and cheerleading memorabilia.

But on that summer day, she’d forgotten all of her teenage dreams as she stood watching Cal strolling up the dirt lane from the stables, guiding a beautiful chestnut gelding. He’d been dressed in the standard jeans and T-shirt that he always wore when working. His dark hair had been longer and curling around his face and forehead. When he’d stopped and looked right up at her, Cassie had felt like the princess in the tower waiting for her forbidden prince. After that, their relationship had taken on a dreamy fairy-tale kind of intensity.

But her fairy tale had not ended happily ever after.

And she’d learned that Cal Collins was no prince, even if the gelding he was escorting had become her own prized horse—aptly named Heathcliff, after the character in one of her favorite classic books, Wuthering Heights.

Cassie closed her eyes now, swallowing back the sweet desire she remembered from that day. It wasn’t so much a physical desire, even though Cal certainly won out over all of the bad-boy rock stars she had plastered on the wall. It was more of a desire to find out who this man was, to ask him how he’d found his way to Camellia Plantation. Sheltered and pampered, she longed to get to know the mysterious older boy who had not come from any of the neighboring plantations and farms, a boy who hadn’t gone to prep school with her or driven some fancy sports car bought with his daddy’s old money. She wouldn’t find Cal Collins at the cotillion or any of the debutante balls.

In other words, Cal represented everything she’d been sheltered from and protected from—the real world.

And Cassie so wanted to break away and find that real world. But reality wasn’t so exciting after the way their summer had ended.

And now, her reality was centered on watching her estranged father die and finding out why Cal was really back here. She wasn’t buying that he’d returned for her sake. They’d both moved on with their lives after that long-ago summer. And there was no going back. Ever.

Her cell phone rang, causing her to whirl and patter over to the rolltop desk on the far wall, where she’d left her big leather tote bag and her sketch pads.

Looking down at the number on the phone, Cassie grimaced. Ned Patterson. When would her ex figure out that they were finished? Why couldn’t she love him the way he deserved to be loved? Pushing thoughts of Cal away, she ignored the incoming call. Ned was dreamy and debonair, everything a woman could ask for. But theirs had been a chaotic kind of relationship. Cassie had finally ended things, which she’d needed to do a long time ago. Because she didn’t want to marry Ned.

Was her love life destined for self-destruction with every man she met?

Cassie threw down the phone, determined to put Ned—and Cal…for now—out of her mind. She hurried back into the big bathroom with the claw-foot tub and the old marble vanity, combed out her hair and threw on the barest of makeup. After drying her hair, she put on a white button-up shirt and skinny jeans with a pair of black flats then gathered her courage to return downstairs.

But what would she do while here? She stopped to stare down at her phone, thinking it looked out of place on the century-old desk. Did she dare sit with her father and try to talk to him? She had plenty of work to keep her busy and a whole slew of phone messages to wade through, some regarding business, some from concerned friends and…that one from Ned.

She deleted Ned’s message right away. She didn’t need to listen to his pleas or his promises anymore. Next, she called her assistant, Rae.

“Cassie, how are you?”

Rae’s deep rich voice always soothed Cassie. They’d met in college at the University of Georgia in their freshmen year. Rae, a soulful expression on her cocoa-colored face, had taken one look at Cassie and become her mentor and soul mate.

“Girl, you look like you are as lost as a little kitty cat,” Rae had said at the time.

“I am,” Cassie had responded. Then she’d burst into tears.

Over coffee in a nearby coffeehouse, she’d blurted out all of her woes, including her mother’s horrid death and her father’s silent treatment and finding the man she loved in the arms of another woman. And Rae Randolph had listened and advised and suggested and…become a fast friend. On those days when Cassie wanted to give up, especially the holidays, Rae had been her rock. Following those awkward attempts to go home during her freshman year, she’d spent most of her holidays and summers with Rae’s family in Atlanta.

Rae’s mother, Louise, had helped Cassie get a summer job in a fashionable Buckhead department store. And since Rae’s mother sewed most of their clothes, Cassie was allowed to use them for models for her own designs. She learned how to be an expert seamstress under Louise Randolph’s keen eye. That experience had helped her become a better designer.

After college, they remained friends, both seeking work within the fashion industry. Rae had been there when Cassie sold her first designs in trade shows and obscure boutiques. So it was only natural that Rae would become her head assistant and confidante and advisor when Cassie finally branched out on her own three years ago with Cassie’s Closet.

“I’m okay, Rae Rae,” Cassie said now, wishing she could have brought Rae with her. “It’s been so hard, coming back, facing my father. He’s sick—much worse than I realized.”

“I think you’re in the right place,” Rae responded, her signature hoop earrings jingling through the airwaves. “You can’t let him pass on without making amends and forgiving, girl.”

Rae had a way of stating the truth in soft, flowing euphemisms. She’d never tell Cassie her father was dying. No, he was just passing on. Passing on to somewhere with no pain and no regrets, according to Rae’s reassuring words when Cassie had first received the call regarding his illness.

“Rae, Cal is here, too.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, exactly. Cal Collins is back here, working for my father. He’s the plantation foreman, which means he’s pretty much running the whole show.”

“Get outta here.”

“I wish I could. He’s here and he’s single. He never married Marsha. They never had a child together. Can you believe that?”

“I mean,” Rae said, louder this time, “get outta here and tell me that so ain’t happening.”

“It’s happening, all right. We’ve already had a fight of sorts. I was a bit mean to him, but seeing him here again had me so flustered I don’t remember what I said.”

“Oh, now, Cassie, you need to just stay away from that man. Don’t provoke him. It won’t work.”

“Don’t I know it,” Cassie said. She paced across the bedroom and sank down on the chaise, memories of all the great books she’d read while sitting here merging with all the memories of Cal she’d tried to bury forever. “I just can’t figure out why he’d come back here after everything that happened.”

“Yeah, like your daddy telling him to get lost and like you seeing him with that redheaded floozy right after he promised to stick by you and love you no matter what?”

“I can’t believe he’s here,” Cassie said. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“I can’t believe y’all are there together,” Rae added. “You know Mama Louise is going to freak, right? So what’re you gonna do now?”

Cassie could just see Rae’s mother rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m going to work on making sure my inventory is updated and my fall and spring lines go into production and then I’ll focus on my future collections, all the while staying near my father. I’m going to meet with his doctors and get the real story and I’m going to do a thorough review of everything that’s going on around here, starting with my father’s holdings and assets and ending with a long talk with him regarding the future of this place. And while I’m at it, I’m going to forget that the man who broke my heart is now back in my life.”

“It’s like déjà vu all over again.”

“Yes, it is. I’m not so sure I can go through this again,” Cassie said, tears springing to her eyes. “It was horrible when my mother died but Cal was there to help me through that.” Even if he had betrayed her a few days later.

“And now he’s there to help you through this, maybe?” Rae asked.

Cassie sat straight up, her mind whirling like a tilling blade. “He did tell me he came back here for me, but I didn’t believe him.”

“You think maybe he’s trying to make amends?”

“No. He was with Marsha when I arrived. Right there on the front porch, at that.”

“What? And you let him stay on after that?”

“He claims things are over between them, but he never explained how that whole marriage-and-a-baby thing never happened. I still don’t know what to believe.”

“Oh, this is getting better and better.” Rae let out a huff of breath. “Maybe he came back because he knew you’d come home, what with your daddy’s condition and all. He must want to see you again in a bad way.”

“Well, he had to agree to this for some reason. He claims he’s here to help my father and he is good at his job. He was always good at dealing with the land and the livestock and the million things that can go wrong on a working farm. But he had to leave his own farm to come back here. I just don’t get it. Why would he choose this place over the one he’s obviously worked so hard to acquire for himself?”

“But he told you he’d come back for you?”

“Yes, but maybe that’s just an excuse, a cover. I don’t know why he’s here and I don’t care. Let’s change the subject. Anything urgent I need to handle?”

“No, nothing. Everything is going smoothly here. We got the mock-ups for the ads we placed in the spring issues of Vogue and Marie Claire and we’re all set for the fall show at the Atlanta Trade Center. Well, as all set as we can be, barring the models show up and the designs work. You just need to create some great, gorgeous pieces for the next few seasons’ collections, okay?”

“I’m afraid with the mood I’m in, my collection might be more Gothic than gorgeous.”

“How about gorgeous Gothic then? Use all that angst to create your designs. Go with the Wuthering Heights factor.”

Cassie thought of flowing linen top coats and wispy dresses and skirts, maybe with cashmere sweaters and draping wraps. Rae knew all about Cassie’s fascination with the Brontë sisters.

“Good idea,” she told Rae. “Maybe with a little steam-punk thrown in. I’ll get back to you. Right now, let’s go over some of the things I have on my urgent list.”

After a half hour of work details, Cassie finished the call. “I think that’s it for now. I’ll set up a video conference with the whole team once I get my bearings. And remember, no one else needs to know where I am, especially Ned.”

“Got it,” Rae said. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Cassie smiled into the phone. “I will. You, too. Call me and keep me posted.”

“Same here, darlin’. And hey, you know I can send Mama down there in a flash.”

“I appreciate that, but I have to handle this myself.”

Cassie disconnected, determination overcoming her fears now that she’d had a heart-to-heart with Rae. Work and her daddy, those were her goals for now. Those and trying not to think of Cal living down in that two-bedroom foreman’s cottage right out past the garden proper.

He’d always been just out of her reach. Nothing about that would change now.

She got up and opened the French doors then walked onto the broad wraparound gallery to look out over the sloping garden and the fields and pastures beyond. Camellia Plantation covered close to a thousand acres, some of that in cash crops such as corn, soybeans and peanuts, some in pastureland and pecan trees and the rest in forests and woods that hunters paid to lease so they could roam around during hunting season. Her home was vast and all-encompassing and worth millions.

As she made her way downstairs, that thought hung over Cassie’s head like a dark cloud. Millions. Millions of dollars and thousands of acres. Prime real estate in fertile, lush southwest Georgia, made for cash crops and hunting leases and fishing lakes and pastures for livestock and horses.

And it would all be hers after her father died.

Unless, of course, he’d decided to cut her out of his will.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her mind whirling. She didn’t want to lose the land or this house, but she didn’t care about the money. Maybe somebody else here did.

Then instead of going into the kitchen to find Teresa, or turning toward her father’s sick room, Cassie headed out the back door, searching for the white Chevy pickup she’d seen parked by Cal’s house. But she didn’t need to find the truck.

She saw the man himself down by the stables. He didn’t notice her as he entered the big open barn. Cassie wanted to finish their earlier conversation.

Hurrying down the dusty lane, Cassie almost trotted toward the big red barn where her father kept several workhorses. As she entered the stable, she blocked out the memories of her clandestine meetings here with Cal and the memory of her father shooting her beloved horse, Heathcliff, after the nervous gelding had spooked and thrown her mother to her death out underneath that old oak near the driveway.

But she couldn’t block out the rush of warring feelings crashing throughout her system. “Cal?” she called, the smell of horses and hay assaulting her. “Cal, where are you?”

“In here,” he called from the tack room, his head sticking out, his expression full of surprise and wariness. “What is it? Is Marcus okay?”

Cassie shook her head, her earlier anger boiled down to simmering. “It’s not that. He was sleeping last time I checked. I need to ask you something.” She pivoted toward the door of the small office. “And I need an honest answer.”

“Sure.” Cal came to lean a shoulder on the doorjamb, his eyes sweeping over her before his gaze settled on her face. “What is it?”

She met him face-to-face, her dry throat giving her time to compose herself. “Did you come back here for me, or did you come back here for this plantation?”

He lifted off the jamb, his wariness changing to disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.” She pushed against a stall, leaning back. “My father is dying. There’s a lot at stake here. You always wanted a place like Camellia and you two were close before…before everything fell apart. So close that he often talked about letting you take over one day. So tell me the truth, Cal. Did you come back to take over this plantation and make it your own?”