Love Finds You in Revenge, Ohio

by Lisa Harris

  “But—”

  “I can’t shut down the store. I’d lose too much business, something I can’t afford to do.”

  She turned around at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him. “And besides, I live across the street from the sheriff, and from what I hear, he’s not someone you want to mess with.”

  He couldn’t help but match her faint smile. “No, he’s not.”

  “Then I don’t have anything to worry about. Right?”

  He wanted to assure her such was the case, but that was something he couldn’t do. And there was more besides. There was something about being here, in her house…alone.

  He shouldn’t be here. He brushed past her and headed toward the back door.

  “Audrey’s wedding is less than two weeks away.” Her voice stopped him in the middle of the kitchen. “I need answers.”

  What else could he do? He didn’t have answers.

  A knock on the back door rescued him from responding.

  Corbin pulled his gun from his holster. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Catherine shook her head.

  “Go ahead and open it, but I’ll be right behind you.”

  More than likely, whoever had trashed her house was long gone, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Catherine opened the door then gasped.

  Isaiah Morgan stood on the back porch.

  Chapter Eleven

  Catherine felt the air whoosh from her lungs. She grasped the counter to steady her legs as they threatened to buckle beneath her. What she saw couldn’t be real. Isaiah Morgan was dead. She blinked her eyes, but the bearded man who resembled the father she remembered still stood there.

  “Catherine.” He smiled, cocked his head, and then pulled her into his arms. “You’re all grown up.”

  Catherine breathed in the strong scent of lye and pulled away. She studied his bearded face. The years had darkened his skin and added a thick line of wrinkles around his eyes. He’d aged at least two decades in the past eight years.

  She sucked in a breath and tried to make sense of what was happening. Tomorrow they were planning to hold a memorial service for Isaiah Morgan and post a grave marker beside their mother. Her sisters would weep through the ceremony, and she’d try to forget how he’d vanished from their lives, and what her life would have been like today if he’d stayed. She bit her top lip and shook her head. It didn’t matter. He might have finally returned to Revenge, but that didn’t mean she was ready to welcome him back with open arms.

  “Mr. Peterson told me you were dead.”

  “Isn’t the first time an old codger like me was proclaimed dead ahead of his time.” The half smile was back. “Thought it was time to come back, what with my first grandbaby on its way.”

  Catherine fought the swell of anger that rose within her. Surely he didn’t think he had the right to simply waltz back into their lives and pick up the role of father, let alone grandfather. In her eyes, he’d lost that right the day he chose to chase a fortune over caring for his wife and four daughters.

  Catherine blinked. “He called me and told me that they’d found your body in a mining accident.”

  His jaw twitched. “Which was all an unfortunate mistake, because as you can see, I’m not dead.”

  Her legs melted beneath her. Corbin grasped her shoulders from behind to hold her steady. For the first time since he’d returned, she was thankful for his presence.

  “Besides, if I was dead, would I be starving?” Her father patted his stomach. “I know it’s been a long time, and I’ve a lot to make up for, but I’m here. Surely that ought to count for something.”

  Like her mother’s picture stereopticon, memories flashed before her and filled her mind with dozens of images. She pushed them aside. She’d made allowances for her sisters’ sake to remember her father in a good light, but that didn’t mean she was going to welcome him into her house.

  Catherine sucked in a lungful of air. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think—”

  Corbin squeezed her elbow. “Why don’t you come inside, Mr. Morgan. We’ll find something for you to eat, and then you can explain the…the false reporting of your death. And I’m sure the rest of your daughters will be anxious to see you.”

  Catherine reined in her turbulent emotions. Corbin was right. The least she could do was offer the man something to eat before she sent him back to where he’d come from. She would be perfectly content for him to battle the gold mines the rest of his life and leave her and her sisters alone. But that was something she’d have to sort out later tonight in the privacy of her room.

  She turned to Corbin and motioned to the cabinet. “I’ve got bread, homemade apple butter, and some leftover roast.”

  Corbin pulled her into the kitchen to allow her father to enter. “Catherine, if you’ll take your father into the sitting room, I’ll get him something to eat.”

  Isaiah nodded. “I’d appreciate that, young man.”

  Catherine brushed through the kitchen toward the sitting room. The years had passed and with them all hope of her father’s return. The unexpected announcement of his death had squelched any lingering possibilities of their ever being a family again. Guilt sprang its ugly head, but she, for one, was perfectly happy to forget the man.

  Catherine sat down on the settee while her father walked around the room. The floral tapestry sofa with its matching walnut armchairs, her mother’s slant-front desk, the corner whatnot filled with her mother’s bric-a-brac…Except for the mess left behind by the thieves, little had changed in this room since her death. She bit back the crushing words poised to spring from her lips. These were things he had no right to any longer. And then there were the questions. Like why he’d walked out on them, and then believed he could simply show up at the back door like nothing happened.

  Her father turned to face her. “What happened in here? It looks like a—”

  “A breakin.” She finished his sentence, something Lily would have done if she were here.

  “A breakin?” He crossed the room in a couple broad steps. “Were you hurt?”

  “No.” Catherine brushed the question aside. “More than likely it was some of the boys in town. It’s not important.”

  Isaiah sat up straight. “I can’t say that I agree.”

  “Nor I.” Corbin entered the room and placed a plate of food on her mother’s embroidered cloth that lay across the table.

  Catherine searched for her manners. “I’m sorry. You remember Corbin?”

  “Of course.” The twinkle was back in her father’s eye as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of the tray. “The handsome young man who captured my daughter’s heart.”

  Who had once captured her heart.

  All that had been lost with the selfishness of one man. The walls closed in on her again. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, wondering how her quiet, ordered life had managed to spin out of control in the past couple of weeks.

  “I always figured he’d be good for you.” Her father continued, before taking a bite. “I remember the day he stood before me in this very room—”

  “No.” Catherine fidgeted on the edge of the settee and shook her head. Corbin stood across the room looking just as uncomfortable. “No, we never married…I thought I wrote you.”

  Her father shook his head.

  Corbin cleared his throat. “I’m the sheriff now, here on official business.”

  “The breakin,” her father repeated.

  “There are a few things missing or broken, but that’s not important right now. I need to understand something.” Catherine rose from her seat to address him. She clenched her hands at her sides. “You sit here like only a couple days have passed since we saw you last, not a lifetime. You left me to care for my sisters and watch my mother die, and now you expect to simply waltz back into our lives like nothing’s happened.” Her voice broke as it rose in volume. “I’m the one who had to make sure the store was taken care of, that your daughters attended school and marr
ied decent men.”

  Isaiah Morgan dropped his fork onto his plate. “I realize it was hard for you, but I thought—”

  “Whatever you thought, you thought wrong. Can’t you see that we’re not the same family we were when you decided to leave?” She clasped her hands together. “You’re not welcome here.”

  Corbin brushed his hand against her shoulder. “Catherine.”

  All the anger, frustration, and bitterness poured from her lips. “Don’t expect me to calm down. Did you ever stop to realize what I’ve given up to keep this family together? To keep the store running so I can provide food and clothing? Or what your desertion did to Emily, Audrey, and Lily?”

  “I truly am sorry, Catherine.” Isaiah stood up, forgetting his food. “You’ve got to understand that I never meant to hurt you. I love you. All of you. That’s why I’m back. I gave up drinking, made my peace with God, and now I need to make things right with my family. I realized finally that I was looking for the wrong thing. That pot of gold was always in front of me, but I couldn’t ever find it. My own pot of gold was sitting right here back in Revenge, and I almost lost it.”

  Catherine forced herself to breathe slowly. “You didn’t almost lose it. You did lose it.”

  Corbin reached for her elbow and led her toward the kitchen. “Will you excuse us for a moment, sir?”

  “Of course.” He slumped back down on the chair as Corbin pulled her into the kitchen.

  “You’re not thinking straight,” he began.

  She avoided his gaze. “I’m thinking perfectly straight.”

  “I’d give anything for my father to walk through that door right now and tell me that he loves me.”

  “Your father didn’t walk out on you.”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give him a second chance.”

  She looked up at him, furious at his stance. “You’re on his side?”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. I know you’ve been hurt, but the fact is that you’re father isn’t dead. He’s sitting in the other room, waiting for you to decide whether or not he can be the father he should have from the beginning. Doesn’t he deserve a second chance?”

  She took a step back from him. No. Things would never be the same again. Why couldn’t he see that? “Tell me how to get past what he did to my mother, to my sisters, and to me. He let my mother die. And he never came back when he knew we were alone.”

  “But what if he’s telling the truth? Maybe he has changed. Besides, sending him away won’t do anything to change the past.”

  “I lost you because of him. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you have any regrets that you and I aren’t sitting in the parlor right now, married, with a family?”

  “Your father is not the reason you lost me.”

  Catherine reached up and slapped Corbin across the face. The instant her fingers burned against his face from the impulsive action, she jerked her hand back.

  “I’m sorry. I never meant to…” She glanced up at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears. All the anger, hate, and brokenness she’d carried for years bubbled to the surface of her emotions. How had it come to this?

  “You told me that sometimes the past is better off forgotten,” he began.

  Her chest heaved. “I don’t know if I can forget this time.”

  Blinking back the tears, Catherine ran past Corbin up the staircase toward her room. Tears poured out as Catherine wept for all she had lost. And for the father who had long ago become a stranger.

  Catherine searched for normalcy in the bewildering scene before her. Her sisters sat scattered throughout the room, swapping stories faster than a spring tornado—with her father. In spite of the hours that had passed since his arrival, her heart still stung with fresh grief. Corbin might have been right in his desire to forget the past, but any true measure of forgiveness—if it came at all—would take time.

  Forgiveness, though, apparently wasn’t an issue in the minds of her sisters. Laughter filled the room, but instead of joining in with the lively banter, Catherine stood in the corner, wishing there were a way to melt into the heavy fabric of the curtains and disappear. Her sisters had rejoiced in the news that not only was their father alive, but he was here in town.

  Grady tightened his arm around Emily, forcing old regrets to the surface, including the part of her that wished Corbin had stayed. Because for a few moments, with her own world floundering, he’d taken on the supportive role she’d once longed for—until she’d foolishly pushed him away. She forced her lungs full of air then breathed out slowly. The truth was, Corbin was gone, and she was the one who had to decide how she would deal with her father and with three sisters who somehow didn’t seem to have any apprehensions about forgetting the past and simply letting Isaiah Morgan step back into their lives like he’d never left.

  She watched as her father leaned forward in the upholstered chair—the same chair he used to retire to after a day of working in the shop. Another memory surfaced. This one of sitting on the staircase late at night, peeking around the corner into the sitting room as Mother brought Father a cup of coffee before picking up a needle and thread to work on her quilt. It was one of their nightly rituals. One of the good ones she managed to dredge up.

  Lily’s laughter snapped Catherine back to the present. Her younger sister reached up and tugged on the corner of their father’s beard.

  Catherine pressed her hands against the small of her back. As angry as she felt over his desertion, there was still a small part of her that longed to embrace him back into their family. Even she could remember the days before he made that fated decision to head west after the tempting lure of gold struck. And if she were honest with herself, perhaps his good days had outweighed his drinking bouts. Like when he’d found time to play in the snow with her on a cold winter day, or spend a hot summer afternoon fishing in Clear Creek, or teaching her how to hit a target with one of his rifles.

  Had she chosen to forget those moments because it lessened the pain of what she’d lost?

  The truth was, Isaiah Morgan could be a decent father until liquor passed his lips, but that truth had been lost over the years. And even the scene before her wasn’t enough to make her forget the whole truth. There was still one issue Catherine couldn’t erase no matter how much she wanted to. She knew the other side of the man who had the entire room riveted to his pocketful of stories that managed to rival Harrison’s own vivid accounts of gold fever. And no matter how much she wanted to forget, she couldn’t.

  Because there had been other nights when she’d sat on that same staircase, praying fervently that God would listen to a young girl’s cries. Isaiah Morgan might have been the perfect gentleman sober, but drunk was a different story. His voice had risen to her upstairs room, drawing her down the staircase in fear that his sharp words would do more than simply cut at her mother’s heart.

  And that was why, no matter what anyone else said or thought, she couldn’t welcome him back into her house like nothing had happened.

  “Catherine, come join us.” Audrey patted the plush chair beside her. “These stories of Father’s almost outshine Harrison’s.”

  A lump swelled in Catherine’s throat as she fumbled for an excuse. “I need to go and check on supper.”

  She rushed from the room, thankful she had something to keep her busy.

  Audrey was right behind her. “Do we have any more lemonade?”

  “There’s a second pitcher on the counter.”

  Audrey tugged on Catherine’s arm. “You need to come and sit with us. Dinner will cook without your standing over it. We’re planning a welcome-home party, and we need your input.”

  Catherine handed Audrey the pitcher, then stopped. “A party?”

  “I know it seems a bit odd considering we were just planning to hold a memorial service for him, but what better way to let everyone know that Isaiah Morgan is back in town? We can have it out on Emily’s farm—”

  “I don’t know, Au
drey.” Catherine moved to pull the lid off the stew that simmered on the stove and began stirring. “There is so much to do at the store, and—”

  “You don’t have time, or you don’t want to make the time?”

  Catherine bit back a tainted response. “You must understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

  “No matter how long he was gone, I never stopped praying for him to return. He is our father. Nothing can change that.”

  He was a father who’d never learned how to fill his role.

  “Catherine.” Isaiah appeared in the doorway. “I think I’ve done enough storytelling for now. What do you want to ask me? We might as well get it all out in the open now.”

  “Okay.” Catherine folded her arms across her chest. Her sisters gathered around him, seeming content to let her play the role of villain alone. “Why did you wait so long to come back?”

  Stories of the Alaskan frontier slipped away and in their place remained a marked silence. At least he seemed man enough to face the truth.

  “Catherine…” Emily’s hand rested on the child within her.

  Catherine wasn’t finished with her questions. “Where were you when Lily broke her arm falling out of the old oak tree out back, or when Emily had the measles, or most importantly, when our mother died?”

  “Catherine—”

  “No. It’s okay.” He motioned them all back into the parlor then slumped against the back of the settee. “Catherine has every right to ask…and the right to know the answers. You all do, in fact. And I knew I couldn’t simply return without facing the past. I spent the past several hundred miles asking myself those very same questions.”

  “What do you mean?” Lily asked.

  “Questions like why didn’t I come back years ago?” His mouth drew in tighter. “The first few months I was gone were horrible. I was always hungry, cold, and I missed all of you terribly. Especially your mother. For no matter what you think, Catherine, no matter how many times we fought, I did love her.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Once in Alaska, I knew that my chances to strike it rich were next to none, but I managed to find just enough gold dust to keep me hungry for more. I convinced myself that my big find was just around the corner. All I needed was another day…another week…and I’d have the fortune I promised you. I wanted to build all of you girls a new house, enlarge the store, perhaps buy land outside town.”