A Mother's Secret

by Gabrielle Meyer

  Everywhere he looked, he saw what mattered most.

  “My life is here now.” He thought about his daughters in the mansion. “I want to pass on Bee Tree Hill to my children.”

  “You lost your chance to become a father when Tamara left you.”

  “No.” Chase shook his head, ready to tell his father the truth. “I’m already a father.”

  Malcolm stared at Chase, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

  “When I returned to Bee Tree Hill, it was Joy Gordon who was still living here.” He straightened his back. “You remember Joy, the young woman I was in love with when you came to take me away from here.”

  His father crossed his arms, but didn’t say a word.

  “It turns out she was pregnant with twins—my daughters—when I left. Uncle Morgan invited her to stay here, because he felt responsible to care for his family—your family.”

  “How can you be so foolish, Chase?”

  “The only foolish thing I did was leave here four years ago.”

  “I remember that girl well. She was trying to get a free ride and she found it. Those kids probably aren’t even yours, but she knew Morgan would feel responsible—”

  “They are mine.” Chase clenched his fists. “You don’t even know Joy—”

  “I know her kind. They’re all the same. We have money and they want it.”

  “You’re wrong about her.”

  “Is she the one pressuring you to keep Bee Tree Hill?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I suppose she doesn’t need to pressure you. It’s apparent that she has other means of controlling you.”

  Chase had no time to argue with his father. And the longer he stood near him, the angrier he became. “I have things to do.”

  “Don’t walk away from me,” his father demanded.

  But Chase was done bending to the will of Malcolm Asher. He was a grown man and he was going to take his future—and the future of his family—into his own hands.

  As he walked away from his father, he took his phone out of his pocket and looked for his aunt’s number. He had a call to make and he couldn’t do it fast enough.

  * * *

  “Mama!”

  Joy set the groceries on the counter in the kitchen, surprised to find the room empty, and turned to meet Ryan as he walked into the room. “Where have you been?” she asked with a smile.

  Tom was bringing in the other groceries, but he hadn’t made it inside yet.

  “Chase’s dad is here,” Ryan said breathlessly. “He’s going to sell Bee Tree Hill to someone who wants to tear it all down.”

  “What?” Joy took the sugar out of a bag, uncertain she’d heard him correctly. “Who’s here?”

  “Chase’s dad.”

  The world seemed to come to a halt as Joy anchored her hands on the counter for support. “His dad is here?”

  “I was hiding near the carriage house.” Ryan’s cheeks were bright red. “Chase’s dad is going to sell Bee Tree Hill and the short man is going to tear it all down. And Chase said he’s a dad and he was angry at his dad and his dad was angry—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Joy put up her hand to stop him from rambling. “Where’s Chase?”

  “He’s on his phone behind the house.”

  Tom entered the kitchen at that moment, his arms full of grocery bags. “Where do you want them?”

  “Here.” Joy motioned absentmindedly to the counter. “Will you excuse me for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you going to talk to Chase?” Ryan asked. “Don’t let the man tear down the house.”

  Tom frowned. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I don’t know.” Joy walked to the door. “I need to find Chase.”

  She pushed open the back door and walked down the stairs, feeling like she was blind. She stumbled and caught herself, her heart racing.

  An expensive, unfamiliar car sat parked in front of the carriage house. Joy’s throat became dry and she started to pray. Was Mr. Asher at Bee Tree Hill again? The last time he’d been there, he’d torn her whole life apart.

  She rounded the corner and found Chase pacing behind the mansion, his phone to his ear, his free hand gesturing all around him. He nodded as he spoke—and then he pulled the phone away and tapped the screen.

  “Chase?” Joy jogged the last few yards.

  He turned and the look on his face told her all she needed to know.

  “He’s here?” she asked, choking on the words.

  “I had no idea he was coming, Joy. He showed up unexpectedly.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “He brought Mr. Tidwell—even though I wasn’t expecting him until Sunday. I didn’t know he’d be coming with my father.”

  “Mr. Tidwell?” Joy shook her head. “Who is he?”

  Chase ran his hand through his hair and rested it on his neck. “He’s an investor.”

  “You had an investor coming on Sunday and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Worry me?”

  “You have enough going on as it is.”

  “How long have you known about Mr. Tidwell?”

  Chase didn’t respond immediately, making Joy’s heart pound even harder.

  “I’ve known almost since the beginning.”

  “You’ve had an investor lined up since the beginning—and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

  “What did it matter?”

  “What did it matter?” Joy stared at him with incredulity. “It mattered a great deal. All this time, I’ve been working for nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.” Chase frowned. “If it wasn’t Tidwell, it would have been someone else.”

  “What other things have you kept from me, Chase?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t kept anything from you.”

  “Anything, except an appointment with an investor.” She couldn’t believe he’d kept this information to himself. Was Tom right? Had Chase been using Bee Tree Hill to manipulate her? Did he have plans to sell it all along?

  “Let’s try to focus on the festival,” Chase said. “Take one thing at a time. I have a call in to my aunt to—”

  “I need to go.” She couldn’t think straight with Chase in front of her. “I have things to do. Tom needs to call the Realtor about the farmhouse.”

  She started to turn away, but Chase stopped her. “What about the farmhouse?”

  “I—I decided to make an offer.” At that very moment. When she had looked at the farmhouse, it had been nice, but it didn’t feel like home. She had decided to let the opportunity pass and trust that God had a better plan for her—but now? Now she didn’t have any other options. Chase’s dad was at Bee Tree Hill with an interested investor. If she let the farmhouse go, she and the children might be living in a two-bedroom apartment at the end of the week.

  “You’re going to make an offer on the farmhouse?” Chase shook his head. “Why?”

  “Because I need a home for my children,” she said, louder than she intended. She couldn’t hide her anger or disappointment in him. Why hadn’t he been honest with her about the investor? “They need stability and security.”

  “Don’t make a rash decision.” He took her hands in his. “Let’s see how the festival goes and then—”

  “It will be too late.” She pulled her hands away. When he touched her, she couldn’t think straight—she needed to get away from him to clear her head. She turned again and walked toward the house.

  She had been silly to believe that she could keep Bee Tree Hill.

  Had she been silly to believe she could trust Chase, too? Had he told his dad about the girls?

  Suddenly, nothing else mattered. She needed to find her daughters.

 
Joy began to run and didn’t stop until she reached the girls’ bedroom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Evening sunshine slanted across the girls’ bedroom floor as Joy pushed open the door and found Harper and Kinsley playing on the carpet with the teenagers who had come by that day to babysit them.

  “Mama!” Kinsley said. She held up a tower she’d made out of pink-and-purple blocks. “You like?”

  Joy put her hand over her heart and leaned against the doorframe. The girls were safe.

  Harper ran across the floor and put her hands up to Joy. “Hold you,” she said.

  Picking up her daughter, Joy pulled her into a tight hug and smiled at the teenagers babysitting. “Mrs. Thompson is serving supper under one of the tents in the front yard. Why don’t you two go on out to eat. I’ll bring the girls in a bit.”

  The young ladies smiled shyly and left the room.

  Joy sat on the bed and motioned Kinsley to come to her.

  She held her girls on her lap, praying Mr. Asher would leave Bee Tree Hill and never come back. No one frightened Joy like he did. He was rich, powerful and merciless. He had hurt her once and he had the ability to hurt her even more this time.

  “I hungry,” Kinsley said to Joy.

  “You’re always hungry,” she said with a smile.

  Kinsley climbed off Joy’s lap and tugged her hand. “Let’s eat.”

  She couldn’t keep the girls locked away in their room forever—but she didn’t want to bring them out onto the lawn where Mr. Asher could easily see them.

  Instead, she took the back stairs down to the kitchen and set the girls at the table.

  Everyone was still outside, which she was thankful for. She didn’t have the heart to see anyone right now.

  She took a couple graham crackers from the pantry to tide the girls over until she could get them something a little more substantial. As they crunched away, she poured them some milk and cut up some grapes, which she put onto their plates.

  Her hands shook as she worked, but it felt good to have something to keep her busy. There was still so much to do for the festival, but all she could focus on was keeping the girls close by her side.

  After they were settled with their grapes, she pulled out some leftover beef-and-vegetable stew and started to warm it up on the stovetop.

  The back door creaked open and Joy looked up from the stove.

  Malcolm Asher stood on the back porch looking into the kitchen through the open door.

  The spoon in Joy’s hand clattered to the floor and she took a protective step toward the girls.

  Mr. Asher walked into the kitchen without an invitation, his shiny black shoes tapping against the wood floor. His blue eyes were cold and calculating as he took in Joy and the girls in one slow, steady sweep of the room.

  Everything in her wanted to grab the girls and run, but she froze, her heart pounding, her hands sweating and her legs trembling.

  Memories from their last encounter crowded her mind, making her feel dirty, tarnished and unworthy.

  “Hello,” Kinsley said to Malcolm as she picked up half a grape. “You like grapes?”

  “Are these the children?” Mr. Asher asked Joy, his voice devoid of emotion. “The illegitimate twins you claim belong to Chase?”

  Joy’s chest rose and fell with deep, unsteady breaths. All her life, she’d been told she was unwanted—but that was her story, not her children’s.

  “No.” She knew what illegitimate meant, but it did not describe her daughters. “These are Chase’s legitimate daughters.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “Yes.” Somehow, somewhere deep inside where her love and devotion sprang forth for her daughters, she was able to muster up the courage to speak back to Mr. Asher. “And you know what I meant, too.”

  He was an impressive man—handsome, tall, strong, and well dressed. If she passed him on the street, she’d give him a wide berth. Here, in the kitchen, he dominated the space.

  “I thought I made myself clear where you’re concerned.” Mr. Asher spoke down to her, like she was a dirty servant. “You were able to deceive my uncle, but I am not as gullible as the old man. I know what you’re after and you will not receive it from me or my son.”

  “I’m not after anything.” The stew hissed and bubbled on the stove behind her, but Joy ignored it.

  “If you want money, you won’t get any,” he said.

  “I don’t want your money.”

  Mr. Asher turned his attention on the girls and studied them closely.

  Joy took another step toward them and put her hands on Kinsley’s shoulders, her pulse picking up speed.

  “If it’s money you want,” Malcolm adjusted his cuffs, “I will agree to a paternity test—but if it comes back positive, I will prove you’re incompetent and ensure that the girls are removed from your influence.”

  Joy’s mouth fell open as she stared at the man.

  “Is that what you want, Miss Gordon?” His lips grew thin. “Or would you like to slip away quietly and never bother my family again?”

  “You not nice,” Kinsley said to Mr. Asher with a frown.

  Harper climbed out of her booster and ran around the table to stand behind Joy.

  Joy knew what it felt like to be raised without a father, and she did not wish that upon her girls—but she couldn’t lose them, either. “I don’t want anything from you or Chase,” she whispered.

  “Then leave him alone.” Malcolm’s voice held no room for debate. “He made his choice to leave four years ago and he’ll make it again. I know my son.”

  Joy’s chest tightened and tears gathered in her eyes, but she would not allow herself to cry in front of this man. He’d only scoff at her.

  She lifted Kinsley out of her booster and picked up Harper. It wasn’t easy to hold both girls, but she needed them close. “I will be out of the house in three days.”

  “Good.” He let his eyes roam over her and the girls. “I never want to hear from you again. Do you understand?”

  Without giving him the benefit of an answer, she turned and left the kitchen through another door leading into the foyer. If she wasn’t committed to the festival and all the trouble her friends, neighbors and community members had gone to, she would have left that night. But she owed everyone a festival—and she would do her best to make sure it was the best festival it could be.

  But as soon as it was over, she and the kids would leave Bee Tree Hill and the Asher family for good.

  Chase entered the house through the front door, Ryan, Jordan and Kodi at his side. When he saw her, his face filled with concern.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  She shook her head, afraid she’d start to cry if she tried to answer him.

  “Ryan,” Chase said, “can you please take everyone out to Mrs. Thompson?”

  “No.” Joy would not let the girls out of her sight. “I will take them to her.”

  She tried to move past Chase, but he put his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Joy. I didn’t mean to keep Mr. Tidwell from you. I was going to tell you after the festival—I just didn’t want to bother you with one more thing to worry about right now.”

  It wasn’t about Mr. Tidwell or Bee Tree Hill anymore. It was about Malcolm Asher and her daughters. She couldn’t risk his ire. If she made him angry, he’d try to hurt her with the one thing that could destroy her.

  Losing her children.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said to Chase, trying to control her features so the children wouldn’t be concerned. She motioned for the boys to go out the front door. “We have a lot more to do before tomorrow,” she told them. “Let’s get busy.”

  She started to leave the foyer, but Chase held out his hands. “Do you want me to take one of the girls for you?”

  Joy held them tighter and
shook her head. “We’re fine.”

  She wasn’t fine—but she wouldn’t ask Chase for any more help.

  * * *

  The door closed behind Joy, and Chase let out a weary sigh. He had broken her trust again and he didn’t know how to repair it. She was hurt and angry, and rightfully so. He should have told her about Tidwell—but it was too late.

  The smell of burnt food wafted from the kitchen. Chase pushed open the door and found the pot on the stove. He frowned. Hadn’t Joy just come from here? Why would she leave food on the stove to burn?

  He crossed the room and turned off the burner.

  A movement outside the porch window caught his eyes. He went to the window and saw the back of his dad’s head as he walked down the hill toward the carriage house—his hands in his pockets, his gait even and steady—and then Chase knew. His father had said something to Joy and that’s why she had just walked out upset.

  Dread mounted in Chase’s heart and he pushed open the door. He couldn’t let his father destroy everything he and Joy had built these past two months.

  “Dad,” Chase called to his father.

  Malcolm turned at the sound of Chase’s voice. His eyes narrowed as he watched Chase approach.

  The heat and humidity had caused Chase to start sweating again—yet his father looked as cool and composed as he would in any situation.

  “What did you say to Joy?” Chase demanded when he finally came to stand before his father.

  “I simply told her what you have failed to say. I want her gone. She agreed to leave in seventy-two hours. You’re done with her and those children for good.”

  Chase shook his head. “I won’t let her leave.”

  “You have no choice.”

  Maybe Chase believed that in the past, but he knew better now. “I always have a choice.”

  His father stared at him for a few moments. “I’ve struggled to make you understand what’s expected of you.”

  “I know what you expect.”

  “No.” Malcolm shook his head, his voice rising. “You have no idea what type of sacrifices I’ve made to be where I’m at today. I expect the same from you—yet you constantly disappoint me.”