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He gritted his teeth then inhaled a breath. “There was no baby. So there was no reason for me to marry her.”
Because he didn’t love Marsha.
Cassie touched a hand to her hair, but she appeared flabbergasted. “Okay, enough about old times. I’m a bit confused. What are you doing here?”
“You really are behind on the family news, aren’t you?” he asked, wondering how he was going to be able to stay here now that she’d come home. When Marcus had first come up with this plan, Cal’s gut had told him this was a very bad idea. Now his stomach burned with the proof of that. No use trying to hide the facts. “I work here.”
And that’s all he needed to say to set things straight. So he turned and walked in the direction of the small foreman’s cottage where he lived.
No, he wasn’t married to Marsha. He’d never been married to anybody. But he wouldn’t tell Cassie the whole ugly story. She didn’t care and it didn’t really matter. He’d only come back here as a favor to her sick father.
As a favor to the man who’d once told Cal he’d kill him if he ever set foot on this land again.
Sometimes Cal wished Marcus Brennan had made good on that threat.
CAL WORKED HERE. AGAIN? How? Why? None of this made any sense to Cassie. That little welcome-home scene on the front porch had left her shaking, but she got herself together enough to go through the double oak doors of the house she’d grown up in. Camellia Plantation had been in her family for over a hundred and thirty years. Her ancestors had bought it in 1880 and restored it after the ravages of the Civil War had caused the previous owner to take his own life—out under that infamous oak tree that hung over the driveway, as the legend went.
The same oak tree where her mother had died.
The same oak tree where Cal had kissed Cassie and promised her he’d always love her.
The oak tree had been here over three hundred years, its trunk and branches scarred and twisted. No wonder it was cursed. The big square house with the massive columns and wide wraparound porches on both floors had been in her family for a long time, passed down from generation to generation with a legacy that told many tales, her own parents being part of that. Her father was the last of the Brennans. If she didn’t marry and produce offspring, she would be the last once he was gone.
Since she wasn’t very good in the relationship department, there was little chance of Cassie ever becoming a wife and mother.
Maybe that was the reason she’d decided to come home. Because in spite of everything, this was her home. Lately, living in Atlanta had become unpleasant in spite of her growing fame as an up-and-coming fashion designer and the success of her downtown boutique aptly named Cassie’s Closet, in spite of the spiffy midtown loft she’d redecorated and spruced up herself. And in spite of her much-touted love life with lawyer and hotshot Atlanta businessman Ned Patterson.
Or maybe because of her love life, or lack thereof. She’d broken things off with her fiancé. But Ned hadn’t taken it very well. Cassie couldn’t blame Ned. She hadn’t loved him very well.
Then she remembered Cal’s eyes when he’d turned to look down at her there on the porch. Blue, a rich navy blue that bordered on velvet. Once a beautiful, loving blue that wrapped her in warmth. Now a hard cold blue that raked her with what looked like scorn and disdain.
Did he hate her that much?
Looking up the curving staircase, Cassie had to wonder if she’d gone from the frying pan to the fire, coming back here. Had she run away from one bad situation only to rush headlong into another one?
Hearing pots and pans being shuffled in the kitchen, she walked up the wide central hallway past the staircase, her heels clicking against the aged heart-of-pine floors, the smell of wisteria mixed with lavender wafting by and bringing memories that assaulted her with such clarity, she felt sixteen again.
“Hello?” she called, praying Cal would be long gone by now. Praying he wouldn’t make this any more difficult than it already was.
“Cassie, is that you?”
“Teresa, yes, it’s me.” She hurried into the kitchen to the left of the hallway, rounding the corner in time to see Teresa Jordan wiping her hands on a fluffy towel. “Hi.”
“Hi, honey.” Teresa opened her arms wide. “C’mon and give me a hug.”
Teresa had been with Cassie’s family since Cassie was a little girl. Her mother, Eugenia, and Teresa had been like sisters. Eugenia had introduced Teresa to Walt and had been matron of honor at their wedding here on the grounds. They’d never had children, but Cassie didn’t understand why Teresa had stayed after Eugenia, and later Walt, had died. Teresa was loyal to Marcus Brennan and even though they hadn’t communicated too much during recent years, Cassie sure was glad to see the woman now.
Cassie rushed into her arms, taking in the scent of Jergens lotion mixed with the smell of bacon grease and cornbread. Tears pricked at her eyes. This was what it felt like to be welcomed home. This was what she’d missed all of these years. These things and…being here with Cal, of course.
But she put that thought out of her head.
Teresa finally let her go then stood back, her brown eyes wide, her smile genuine. Pushing a hand through her short grayish-brown hair, she said, “Look at you. As pretty as ever. I saw your picture in People, you know. One of the up-and-coming designers of last year. Cassie’s Closet seems to be the thing these days. They carry your ready-to-wear in Belk’s and Dillard’s. I have two of your dresses that I wear to church. Lordy mercy, ain’t that something now.”
Cassie’s smile was shaky and shy. “Something, all right.”
She had last-minute promos to do for the fall line and paperwork for the production of next spring’s collection, not to mention finishing up the actual designs for the next season. The fashion industry dictated that she stay a couple of years ahead. Taking a breath, she willed her nerves to calm down. “I’ll have plenty to keep me busy while I’m here. But…I’m hanging in there.”
“And you’re good at it from what I see and hear.” Teresa pushed at Cassie’s hair. “How you doing, honey?”
“I’m not sure,” Cassie said, wondering how many more surprises she could handle. “How is he today?”
“Not good.” Teresa shook her head, tears springing up in her eyes. “I’m so glad he let me call you.”
“Me, too. But does he really want me here or did you force him into letting you call?”
“No, he wants to see you. He sure does. I think he’s decided it’s time to mend his ways and…let go of the past.”
“Can we do that, really?’
“We have to,” Teresa said. “Want to see him now, or would you rather freshen up and have some lunch first?”
“Now,” Cassie said, the thought of food turning her stomach. “Is he upstairs?”
“No, darlin’.” Teresa motioned to what used to be a big office-and-den combination at the back of the house. “We had to move his bed down here. He can’t make it up the stairs anymore.”
Cassie nodded, put down her purse and straightened her dress. When they got to the closed door of the den, she pivoted around, wishing she could bolt out of the house and hide in the stables the way she used to do when she was young and afraid.
That was how she’d met Cal face-to-face, after first seeing him from a distance…and keeping her own distance. He’d found her hiding in the stables late one fall afternoon. And after that, she hadn’t been nearly as afraid or lonely as before.
A lot had happened since then.
But she wouldn’t be scared anymore. She had a lot of questions.
Beginning with one.
“Teresa, after I visit with Daddy, I want you to explain to me what Cal Collins is doing back at Camellia.”
And why no one had bothered to warn her about that.
CHAPTER TWO
CASSIE ENTERED THE darkened room, her heart whispering a silent warning. The ceiling-to-floor windows across one wall of the big square room usually showed a panoramic view of the sloping backyard and the pool area. But today, the heavy beige drapes were drawn shut, causing patches of desperate sunshine to break through like lurking spotlights onto the high ceiling.
It took her a while to focus and get her bearings. The hospital bed had been set up in the corner where her father’s big oak desk used to be. The desk was gone but the sitting area remained the same, centered around the brick fireplace across from the bed. The row of bookshelves surrounding the fireplace remained full of volumes of various sizes and types, reminding Cassie of what a bookworm she’d always been in school.
Until that summer when Cal had brought her out of hiding and brought the world to her with all his talk of traveling and buying up land and…so many other dreams.
It felt surreal, being here in this room, hiding in darkness, shaking away in this atmosphere of sickness and death.
She didn’t want to advance toward the bed in the corner, toward the still, skeletal man lying in that bed. He didn’t look like the father she remembered.
Marcus Brennan had been larger than life—a rancher, a cowboy, a hunter and sportsman, a businessman and a gentleman with impeccable manners when around ladies and a brawling disregard when he went hunting or fishing with his cronies. He ruled this part of the state of Georgia and people either feared him or respected him.
At times, Cassie had felt both. Right now, she wasn’t sure what to feel, or what to say. So she just stood, her prayers centered on the next step. Then she heard her father’s voice for the first time in twelve years.
“Cassie?”
Cassie gulped back a silent sob. She wouldn’t cry now, not when she’d cried so many tears she’d probably be able to fill the Chattahoochee River. Not now, after she’d had to endure seeing Cal with her nemesis, Marsha, the woman who’d managed to break them apart even after Cassie’s powerful father had tried and failed.
Not now. Not now.
“Cassie, come over here and let me look at you.”
She advanced a step, then another, until she was at the foot of his bed. “Hello, Daddy.”
Marcus was propped up with pillows, his frail hand reaching toward her then falling away, back to the folds of the dark comforter covering his lower body.
“You came home.”
He said it in a way that ripped at her heart, his voice soft with yearning and awe. Had he expected her to ignore him?
“Yes, I’m here. How are you feeling?”
The cliché was the only thing that came to her mind, emerging through the unspoken, unasked questions that held her in a tight spasm of pain and fear.
His chuckle sounded like jagged rocks hitting against each other. “You see how I look. I feel about twice as bad as that. I guess I’m done for, girl.”
Cassie gripped the cold steel of the bed. “Teresa didn’t explain exactly what…what kind of illness you have. I’ve talked to several of your doctors since she called me regarding your health, but they didn’t want to discuss your medical condition with me.”
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.”
