A Southern Reunion

Another rumbling, hacking chuckle. “I’m dying. What does the rest matter?” He let out a rasping sigh. “I’ve drank too much, smoked too much, and seen and done too much. I have cancer and several other maladies with names longer than my seventy-nine vintage Cadillac.”

Cassie let that declaration take hold, willing herself to remain quiet and still. He appeared so fragile, so deathly, she was afraid to move, afraid her touch on his arm might shatter him. “I understand you have nurses?”

“Day and night. Draining me dry, too.”

Her father was a very rich man, so she doubted that. “Where is your nurse right now?”

“Told her to come later this afternoon. Wanted some time alone with you. They hover over me, drives me nuts.”

Cassie could only imagine that and pity the nurses who had to deal with Marcus Brennan. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to go back about fifteen years, is all.”

Don’t we all, Cassie thought, one single tear escaping down her face. Grabbing at courage, she moved around to the side of the bed. “Why am I here, Daddy? Why did you wait so long to call me home?”

“Why did you wait so long to come home?” he countered, his expression creased with frustration and too much time alone.

Cassie didn’t know how to answer that question. She’d called home time after time, especially during that first rough year of college. Teresa would take her messages but she’d never hear back from her father. After the first awkward, awful Thanksgiving and Christmas here when her father didn’t even bother to eat meals with her or exchange gifts, either, she’d swallowed back the pain of holidays spent alone or with friends, with long nights of worrying and praying for things she couldn’t have. After a few months, she’d given up, her heart breaking into brittle little pieces each time her messages were not returned.

“I’m here now,” she said, blinking back the stubborn tears. “I’m here, Daddy.”

Marcus gazed up at her, his shrewd brown eyes hollow and hard-edged, his mouth open in a rasping for each breath. “As pretty as ever.” He swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment. “You are the image of your mother.”

And that was why he’d hated her so much, Cassie realized.

CAL STOMPED INTO THE kitchen, searching, the scent of Cassie’s perfume lingering in the air like a low-hanging flower, teasing him while he searched for her.

“Where is she?”

The housekeeper who also served as his sometime-therapist and wise counselor said, “In with her daddy.”

“How is she?”

Teresa automatically filled a glass with ice and poured him some sweet tea. “Shaky. Confused. Wanting to know why you’re back here and why her daddy called her home.”

Cal lowered his head, his hand absorbing the condensation on the crystal glass. “Did you tell her anything?”

“Not yet. She went straight in. Poor girl. She looked so lost. It didn’t help one bit that Marsha decided to come calling today of all days. Did she know Cassie was coming home?”

“No. At least she didn’t hear it from me.” Cal took a long sip of his tea, the syrupy sweetness of it hitting the dry spot in his throat with a soothing rush. Then he put down the glass and stared at the melting ice. “This is hard for all of us.”

Teresa went back to wiping and putting things away. “Yep, I reckon it is. I should have warned her. I don’t like keeping things from her.”

“She wouldn’t have come if she’d known I was here.”

“And that’s why I didn’t tell her.”

That reality made Cal wince with a soul-deep pain but he fought it. He’d been fighting against it for so long now.

“Guess I’d better get back to work. I’ll check back in later.”

“You want to come for supper?”

He and Teresa had taken to eating their meals together, just in case Marcus took a turn for the worse. “No. I think it’d be better if I keep to myself for a while. Jack’s waiting for me in the east field. Soybeans need my attention today.”

Teresa didn’t say anything and her expression held no judgment. Maybe that was why Cal liked her and trusted her.

That and the fact that she was more like a mother to him than his own had ever been.

“Be careful out there,” Teresa said, as always. “Tell Jack to drink plenty of water.”

Teresa had a crush on the burly old field hand. As always, Cal saluted her. “It’s just tractors and dirt, Teresa. I think Jack and I can handle it.”

But they both knew managing a big plantation was about a lot more than tractors and dirt.

He turned toward the kitchen door that led out onto the back porch and came face-to-face with Cassie as she rounded the corner from the hallway. One look at her and his protective instincts picked right back up where they’d left off so long ago. “Are you all right?”

She reached toward the counter, her face pale and drawn, her eyes glazed into an icy blue. “No.”

The one word, whispered on a rushed breath, caused Cal to step forward and tug her close. “Here, sit down.”

She tried to push him away but he’d always been bigger and stronger. And she used to lean on him when she was afraid or tired.

She looked around, her eyes now wild. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not fine,” he said, guiding her to a high-backed chair by the window. “Teresa, can you bring her some water.”

He heard the faucet turning on, heard Teresa hurrying across the room. “Here, honey.”

Cassie looked up, her eyes turning the innocent blue of a confused hurt child. She took the water, sipped it for a minute, then handed it back to Teresa. “He’s really dying.”

Teresa shot a stern look toward Cal. “Yes, he is.”

Cassie glanced down at her hands. “I thought maybe it was just some kind of ploy, a trick to get me to come back. But he looks so sick. So small.”

Cal bent down in front of Cassie, forcing her to look at him. “He wanted you here but it took him a long time to admit it.” He shoved the glass of water back toward her. “He didn’t want to…go…with things the way they were between you two.”

She sipped the water then stared down at the glass. “Why didn’t he want me here while he was still alive enough to really spend time mending things between us? I would have come. I tried coming home, then when that didn’t work, I wrote to him, sent him cards, left messages. Then I gave up and got on with my life. But I would have been here if he’d only asked.”

Cal couldn’t explain that one. He’d often wondered the same thing. He knew why he wasn’t wanted here before now, but how could a man turn on his only daughter like that? Since returning, Cal had thought many times about calling her, but Marcus Brennan was a stubborn man. And Cal had to be honest. He’d been too bitter and hurt himself to ask Cassie to come back, especially when he knew she wouldn’t like being around him. And that she would hate him all over again when the truth came out.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “All I know is that he asked us to get you home and you’re here now.” He looked up at Teresa. “We’re all here. We have to do our best for him.”

She stared at him as if she didn’t know him at all. “And how long have you been back?”

He didn’t dare lie about that. “A few months. Since last fall.”

“What else are you two keeping from me?”

Teresa busied herself with cleaning off the counter and moving a bowl of fresh fruit into place. Not bothering to address Cassie’s last question, she said, “I thought it best you didn’t know about Cal. You didn’t call that much anymore and when you did, I just didn’t know what to tell you. Your daddy made demands and I abided by those demands.” Her shrug said it all. But Cal knew there was much more to all of this.

Cassie got up then, pushing past Cal, her hands tightening against the wide butcher-block island. “And I didn’t abide by his rules and his demands. So I got banished until…the bitter end. Until it was almost too late.”

Cal hadn’t planned on explaining his presence to her, but she deserved to know. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “Let’s go have a talk.”

Her frown held disbelief and distrust. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Lots.” He practically dragged her toward the back door.

Teresa called after them. “She needs to eat something. She didn’t have a bite of lunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cassie said on a grumbling breath, her eyes on Cal. “And I’d not ready for this.”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Cal held her elbow, urging her toward his cottage. “We’re going to get this over with here and now, Cassie.”

“Why? Whatever you have to say won’t change a thing.”

“It’ll explain a lot, though. I thought you wanted answers and explanations.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. This is between my daddy and me.”

He didn’t blame her for that. He’d lied to her once before and it had destroyed both of them. “I don’t care what you think about me, but you need to understand how things are around here now.”

She hurried toward the farmhouse cottage, pushing at camellia bushes as she went. “Yes, I guess it would be nice if someone would enlighten me about the status quo. I’ve had quite enough surprises for one day.”

Her silky, cultured Southern voice poured over him. Even spitting mad, she still had class. Which was only one more reason he should have stayed away from this place. Or left as soon as Marcus told him the real reason he wanted Cassie to come home.

But he’d stayed, of course. To see her again. To finish what he’d started. And to honor a dying man’s wishes.

Or so he told himself.

Taking her up onto the back porch, he pointed to a white rocking chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

He ignored her and went inside to search for something that would fill her up without making her sick. She’d always been a picky eater. Then he remembered she used to like yogurt. He didn’t have any of that, but he did have some ice cream. He grabbed the container out of the freezer then found a spoon and took it out to her.

Cassie stared up at the container, an amused look clearing away some of her disdain. “Butter-pecan ice cream? Are you serious?”

Glad to see her diva attitude kicking back in, he nodded. “Just take a couple of bites.”

“I rarely eat ice cream.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you try. I love it on a summer night.”

She glared at him then took the open container and the spoon. With a defiant dig, she scooped up a mound and shoved it into her mouth.

“See, not so bad, is it?”

She took another bite. “No. It slides down rather smoothly, unlike some of the preconceived notions I have about you.”

Ouch. He deserved that. “I know you don’t want me here, Cassie. But I’m not leaving. I’ve put too much into this place to leave now.”

She put down the ice cream and tossed the spoon onto the table by the chair. “And why exactly are you here, Cal?”

Cal took the ice cream back inside to the freezer then came out to sit on the porch rail in front of her. “Sometimes, I ask myself that same question.”

“I never expected to see you again,” she finally said, her tone so soft now he barely heard her words. “I’d forgotten how much you love ice cream.”

He stared down at her frowning, pouting face, remembering how he used to be able to kiss that pout right off her pretty lips. “Will you listen to me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to understand.”

She sat back in the rocking chair. “Okay, but I need to get back, so talk fast.”

Cal let out a long sigh. “After I left, I moved around a lot, working on farm after farm, doing whatever work I could find. Then I saw this little bit of land up north of here and bought it with borrowed money, thinking I’d settle down and farm for myself since I’d learned everything there was to know about growing food and producing livestock.”

She shot him a wry smile. “Does that include the load of manure you’re about to give me?”

“You said you’d listen.”

She started rocking again, her modern outfit a sharp contrast to the old-fashioned high-backed chair.

“After a couple of years, I made a profit so I bought the neighboring farm and added it to mine. And one thing led to another. I wound up owning a lot of land about fifty miles north of here. Well, actually the bank owns it but I’m making the payments.”

“Why didn’t you stay on your own place?”

He put a finger to his lips. “Listen.”

She rocked back and forth. “All right.”

His gaze hit hers and she looked away. “I was at a land-management seminar in Tifton last fall when I ran into your daddy.” He paused and let out a breath. “He looked like he didn’t feel good and I noticed he’d lost a lot of weight.”

She lowered her eyes then nodded. “Go on.”

“At first, we were kind of standoffish with each other but he finally approached me and told me he’d heard good things about my farm-management experience and how I’d acquired a lot of acreage. He was impressed. He told me the foreman he’d hired after Walt died wasn’t doing a good job and he’d been looking for someone he could trust to take over. Then he offered me the job of foreman for Camellia, right there on the spot. But I had my own land and I didn’t want to work for anyone else, especially him. A few weeks later, he called me and made another offer and told me he was sick. Since I wanted to pay off my land, I took him up on it. I rent out my land now and I work here. I get back up there once or twice a month, just to check on my workers.”

She stopped rocking. “So you’re telling me you turned your own land over to someone else so you could come back here and work for my father?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth. The rent money helps to pay down my mortgage and the money I’m making here helps me to fix up the place.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He stood up and leaned over her, holding his hands on both arms of the rocking chair. “I don’t really care whether you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”

She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes full of accusation and doubt. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense, Cal. My father is dying.”

“Yes, and he had just recovered from a heart attack when he offered me the job. He needed my help, Cassie.”

She went still again. “He had a heart attack?”

“Yes, but he made me swear not to call you. And since I didn’t think you’d talk to me anyway, I stayed out of it.”

“But you dropped everything and gave up your dreams to help my father?”

He got so close, he could see the light blue of her irises. “Yes, I did.”

“Why? What’s the real reason? I know you always had this dream of owning your own place and now you say you do. But why come back here, after the way my father treated you?” She stopped, took in a breath. “After what happened between us? Why would you even want to come back here?”

He hadn’t planned to tell her that but maybe she needed to know. “You, of course. I did it for you, Cassie.”

She inhaled a deep breath but she didn’t speak.

Then he stood up, his eyes centered on her. “That’s the truth. I did it because your daddy needed someone he could trust and because…you couldn’t be here. I did it to help a bitter old man, but mostly I came back for you.”

CHAPTER THREE

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.