A Mother's Secret

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “No.” Chase shook his head. The longer it took the better. “Please, take your time and do not feel rushed for any reason. We want a thorough and complete list and valuation.”

  Mr. Taylor set his bag on the table. “And the family you told me about, will they feel like I’m intruding?”

  “I’ve spoken to them and they know what to expect. They will do everything they can to accommodate you—but they have asked that you let them know what room you’ll be working in each day, so they can keep the children out of your way.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Chase’s phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket and didn’t recognize the number. “Do you mind if I answer this, and then I can take you on a tour?”

  “Of course,” Mr. Taylor said, waving Chase off. “I have a few more things to get from my car.” He left the porch and closed the door.

  Chase tapped the green phone icon and answered the call. “Hello,” he said.

  “Is this Chase Asher?” the man on the other end asked.

  “It is.”

  “My name is Conrad Tidwell. Your father gave me your number and said I should call you to schedule a visit to see the property.”

  Frowning, Chase walked to the far side of the porch and looked out at the pond. “I’m sorry—I’m not sure—”

  “I am interested in purchasing the estate. I’m in Singapore right now, and it looks like my trip will not last as long as I had planned. I should arrive in San Francisco in mid-July and can be in Minnesota a few days later.”

  Mid-July wasn’t enough time. They had already started to advertise the Bee Tree Hill Festival for July twenty-seventh.

  “I have just started the appraisal work,” Chase said, trying to think of a way to stall Mr. Tidwell’s arrival. “I don’t think we’ll be ready to show the place until the beginning of August at the earliest.”

  “I’m not overly concerned about the appraisal,” said Mr. Tidwell. “My biggest concerns are its location, the size of the community and the access to the river. Could you text pictures of the property to this number?”

  “There is a family currently living here,” Chase told Mr. Tidwell. “They have until the end of July to vacate the premises. I will take as many photos as I can, but I cannot schedule a showing with you until after the first of August.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “I was under the impression that Malcolm wanted to sell the property as soon as possible.”

  “He does.” If his dad knew he was threatening this sale, he’d replace Chase within twenty-four hours, so he needed to play it safe. “But we were not aware of the family living here until I arrived. It was my late uncle’s wish that the family was taken care of, so we are trying to accommodate that request. I am happy to send you pictures and any other information you may need, but I cannot show the property to you until August.”

  Again, another pause. “Fine. I will plan for August then. I’ll be in touch in the coming weeks to tell you my arrival time. And I look forward to seeing those pictures.”

  “Thank you for calling.” Chase ended the call just as Mr. Taylor reentered the porch. Chase stepped over to the door and held it open for the older man. “Do you need help?”

  “No, no.” Mr. Taylor carried a large brown box into the house. “I’m fine.”

  Chase’s mind was no longer on the appraiser or the tour he needed to give. Instead, he was thinking about Mr. Tidwell and the impending visit. If Tidwell didn’t purchase the property, then someone else would. It was only a matter of time, which meant that Chase had to come up with money fast.

  He had a little amount in savings—nothing close to what he’d need to purchase the house—but what about a bank? Maybe a hometown bank, knowing Chase’s connection to the property, would be willing to take a risk on him—but how would he possibly make the monthly payment on a multimillion-dollar loan? There was a chance that someday, if he was the CEO of the Asher Corporation, he could afford it—but on his current salary, there was no way.

  “I think I’m ready for that tour, Mr. Asher.” Mr. Taylor grinned.

  “Please, call me Chase.”

  “Then please call me Ernie.”

  Chase nodded and showed Ernie into the front foyer.

  When he had a chance, Chase would make a trip to the bank. Even if it seemed unlikely, he had to try. If nothing else, maybe the banker would have a better idea.

  * * *

  A week after Joy had told Chase about the girls, she sat in the parking lot of the Government Center, rain pattering against the windshield of Mrs. Thompson’s old Prius. It was Wednesday and Mrs. Thompson had volunteered to bring the children to church that evening, so Joy had left her the minivan and she had taken the smaller car in case her meetings ran late—which they had.

  She had just left a meeting with the boys’ caseworker and could not bring herself to turn on the car. The news she would need to deliver to Ryan, Jordan and Kodi would break their hearts. There would be no more visits for the boys and their birth mom. She had left the state without contacting her caseworker and had dropped out of her treatment program. She had broken her paternity agreement, thereby nullifying her parental rights. All that was needed was a judge to sign the official papers.

  It was the final act of abandonment in their short lives and Joy prayed it would be the last. She had already spoken to the social worker about her wish to adopt the boys, and the social worker said she would start the process. There were still many things that needed to happen, and many months that would pass before their case was brought before a judge. Thankfully, she already had her foster license, which was the longest step in the adoption process.

  But if she didn’t have a house for them, there was no way the judge would allow her to adopt those boys.

  Maybe it was time to start looking at her other options. The last thing she wanted was to leave Bee Tree Hill, but if she had no other choice, then maybe she should look at other properties.

  Turning on the engine, Joy flipped the wipers on and backed the car out of the parking space. She was so weary, she didn’t want to think about her housing problem tonight—or any other problem, for that matter—but she would need to work on another grant application when she returned to the house.

  The rain began to fall harder and it became more difficult to see the road.

  Pulling into Bee Tree Hill, Joy noticed Mr. Taylor’s Mazda was not parked in his regular spot near the house. The little man had become a welcome fixture in their daily lives. They didn’t interact very often, but he did join them for their afternoon meals and he was a pleasant conversationalist. Joy had always been fascinated by history, and this man was a walking historical resource. Not only did he share the history about Bee Tree Hill that he came across, he was also an expert on Minnesota history, as well.

  Joy pulled into her spot along the north side of the mansion and put the car in Park. She turned off the engine and heard her phone ding.

  Lifting her purse onto her lap, she took out her phone. The rain continued to pour, sending a torrent of water down the eaves of the house and into the lawn. She could hardly see the Mississippi in the distance because of the downpour.

  When she pressed the home button on her phone, the message notification showed her the email was from the organization she’d sent her first grant application to. It had only been a week and a half, so she doubted she’d have an answer, but maybe they had another question to ask.

  She tapped the email and scanned it—but then she paused and went back to read the whole thing.

  The board had met the day after they received her application and they were pleased to tell her they would award her twenty-five thousand dollars to put toward her housing needs.

  Joy stared at the screen, her mouth slipping open in surprise.

  Twenty-five thousand dollars?

  It w
asn’t nearly enough money to purchase Bee Tree Hill, but it was still a substantial amount.

  Hope sprang afresh in her heart and she grinned. This was just the beginning—her first grant application—hopefully it was an indication of things yet to come.

  She didn’t even care that it was raining and she’d get wet. She tossed her phone into her purse, opened the door and rushed out of the car. Giggling, she ran through several puddles and up the back stairs into the enclosed porch just off the kitchen. She hadn’t felt this light or optimistic for months. Even with the news of the boys’ mother, which wasn’t all that surprising, all she could do was thank God for the many blessings in her life.

  The smell of chili wafted on the air as Joy closed the back door. She hung her purse on the hook and pulled off her light summer coat. Had Mrs. Thompson made her supper before leaving for church? She didn’t need to do that. Joy would have been happy with a bowl of cereal.

  Pushing open the inner door, Joy stopped short when she found Chase standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

  A flash of lightning lit up the dark sky and was quickly followed by thunder.

  Chase looked up from the stove to glance out the window and found Joy standing there.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hello.”

  A timer went off and Chase tore his gaze from Joy’s to open the oven. A pan of cornbread sat in the middle of the rack, its edges golden brown.

  “You’re just in time for supper.” He pulled a potholder from a drawer and took out the cornbread. “Are you hungry?”

  She was famished. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which had been a hurried cup of coffee and a granola bar as she left the house early that morning. Her stomach took that moment to growl.

  Heat warmed her face. “My stomach cannot tell a lie.” She laughed, feeling more carefree than she could ever remember. “Did Mrs. Thompson make that before she left?”

  Chase shook his head and set the cornbread on the table. “It’s my own recipe. I hope you don’t mind that I used the kitchen.”

  How could she mind? “I didn’t know you cooked.”

  “I’ve been living on my own for a while.” He shrugged. “You either cook or eat out, and since I like being home as much as possible, I learned to cook.”

  He went to the cupboard and pulled out two bowls, then he took them to the stove and started to dish up.

  Joy wasn’t certain it was smart to have a quiet meal alone with Chase, but she didn’t know how to back out now—and, if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to back out. Despite everything between them, she still enjoyed Chase’s company—and had even found herself looking forward to seeing him.

  She went to the refrigerator and took out some shredded cheddar cheese and sour cream. “Do you like crackers or tortilla chips in your chili?” she asked him.

  “Chips.”

  She opened the pantry and took out a bag and then met him back at the table, where he’d set the steaming bowls of chili, along with silverware.

  They stood facing each other for a second.

  Another bolt of lightning was followed by more thunder. It rattled the windows and reverberated in her chest.

  She recalled another summer afternoon, about four years ago, when she and Chase had been at Bee Tree Hill alone during a thunderstorm. The thrill of being with someone who made her feel beautiful and wanted had rendered her numb to all reason. Chase could have asked her to climb Mount Everest that day, and she would have tried. She’d felt so invincible, so full of life, she’d compromised her better judgment and fallen in love with a man she had believed was different than all the others.

  But was he like all the others? Or had he simply made one bad decision? She’d made bad decisions before—did she want her poor choices to determine how people felt about her?

  His eyes were full as he looked at her and she wondered if he was remembering that long-ago evening, as well. They had talked and laughed and shared their greatest dreams with one another. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Chase pulled out his chair and she did the same. They sat and faced each other across the table.

  “Should I pray?” he asked quietly.

  Joy nodded.

  There was a brief hesitation and then he reached across the table with his right hand.

  She also hesitated, but then she extended her left and he grasped her hand in his. Their eyes met momentarily and then she closed hers and bowed her head.

  His skin was warm and the sensation of his thumb as he brushed it across the top of her hand sent pleasure up her arm and into her chest. Her cheeks burned as she tried to focus on his prayer.

  “Lord,” he began slowly, as if he needed a moment to catch his breath, “we thank You for this food, for this home and for each and every blessing You’ve given us.” He paused. “And, Lord, we pray You show us the way to make Bee Tree Hill a permanent home and safe haven for Joy and the kids. Amen.”

  “Amen,” she whispered in agreement.

  She opened her eyes and met Chase’s gaze just before he released her hand.

  “I have good news,” she said, a little more cheerful than she expected to sound after his solemn prayer.

  He took a dollop of sour cream and mixed it into his chili. “What’s that?”

  “I received one of the grants I applied for. I’ll be awarded twenty-five thousand dollars to help with housing.”

  “Joy, that’s amazing!” His face lit up and his blue eyes sparkled.

  “It’s not much—”

  “It’s more than you had.”

  “But I can use it for any form of housing I choose—I just have to report to the board where I use it.”

  “What do you mean, any form of housing?”

  “If I have to find another house in town—I don’t have to use it for Bee Tree Hill—I just have to use it to house my foster children.”

  He stopped crumbling chips into his bowl. “Are you thinking about looking for a different house?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do. If we don’t stay at Bee Tree Hill—”

  “I went to the bank today,” he interrupted. “I applied for a mortgage loan.”

  Her heart started to pound a little harder. “What did you learn?”

  “I qualify for a loan.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, his face serious. “But it will only be about a quarter of what we’ll need.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about Chase taking out such a substantial loan for her and the girls. “How would you afford to live somewhere else if you’re making payments on a loan for Bee Tree Hill?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “But, you don’t need to—”

  “I do.”

  His answer held no room for argument—but it didn’t matter. If she couldn’t come up with the other three-quarters, she’d still not have enough.

  “I still need to look for alternative housing. Six weeks isn’t a long time to find somewhere to move.” Suddenly, the food didn’t look so appetizing. “Now that I think about it, I should probably start packing.”

  “No.” Chase shook his head. “I don’t care what my father says. You don’t need to leave on August first. If we don’t have all the funding we need by the end of July, you can start packing then. Even if my dad sells the place, it’ll take several weeks for the sale to be completed.”

  “I can’t keep relying on what-if.” She used the knife Chase had brought to the table and cut the cornbread into squares. “I had other news today that will affect my future.”

  Chase set down his spoon and frowned. “What?”

  “The boys’ mom left the state, which means she’s given up her rights.” She paused as she let the news sink in. “I’ve started the adoption process.”

  He didn’t respond ri
ght away, and she knew he was struggling with what to say. It was a bittersweet moment. It was heartbreaking to know a mother was being permanently separated from her children—yet there was hope because another forever family was being born.

  “I’m sorry about their mom,” he finally said. “But I’m excited for you and for them.”

  “That’s why I cannot wait—”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting Joy’s words.

  Frowning, she stood. Chase also stood and followed her out of the kitchen and into the front foyer.

  Joy opened the foyer door and found Pastor Jacob Dawson standing on the front step in the rain.

  “Oh, goodness!” Joy rushed to the other door and opened it. “Come in, Pastor!”

  Pastor Jacob grinned at Joy, his smile wide and bright with matching dimples. He stepped into the porch, his black shoes squeaking from the water. He was a tall man with the kindest eyes Joy had ever seen. He’d been a constant support to her and Mrs. Thompson over the past two years, and his seven-year-old daughter Maggie was one of Ryan’s best friends. As a widower, he’d come to Timber Falls to start over and he’d been welcomed with open arms by the community.

  “It’s Wednesday. I thought you’d be at church.” Joy closed the door behind him.

  “I’m on my way there now,” he said in his calm and unhurried way. “I performed a small funeral at the nursing home this afternoon.”

  Pastor Jacob glanced toward Chase with a curious smile. For whatever reason, she felt embarrassed to be alone with Chase—and to be caught by the pastor, even though they had done nothing wrong.

  “Pastor Jacob, this is—” She was at a loss to explain who Chase was. An old friend? The father of her children?

  “Chase Asher,” Chase said, stepping forward to shake the pastor’s hand. “Morgan Asher was my great-uncle.”

  Pastor Jacob shook Chase’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Chase. Your uncle was one of our oldest members when he passed away, and the last of the Asher family to attend Timber Falls Community Church. It was your family that started the congregation almost a hundred and thirty years ago.”