Worthington Enterprises continued to flourish without his dictatorial hand. Evie wondered what the reaction of the board would be the day she took her seat at the head of the table. At forty-nine, she was looking forward to a new career. Not that she wished poor John an early demise, she just needed to be in control. While John was a most generous husband, he still pinched the purse strings if he felt she was living too lavishly, as he put it. Tossing his wealth about wasn’t uncommon for Evie. Coming from a poor family in Sweetwater, as a child she often dreamed of being rich....
She remembered the long days spent taking care of her four brothers and three younger sisters. As the eldest, the responsibility of raising them had rested on her shoulders. Her parents worked at whatever odd jobs they could find. Many times they were dependent on the charity of others. Evie would never forget the first day of her junior year.
The pale blue dress had graced the window of Barnaby’s for weeks. Evie passed it on her occasional trips to town. She wanted that dress more than she wanted food. If only she had a job. She would save every penny for that dress. But, unless she was available for baby-sitting, there wasn’t much opportunity for her to work. She had her hands full as it was with the brood at home.
It was rare when she had a day to herself. This particular day, a Saturday, her mother had insisted she get out of the house, telling her it was her chance to hang around with her friends. She jumped at the chance. Though she didn’t tell her mother about her lack of friends. Not many wanted to hang with the Tilton bunch. Poor white trash they called them. Evie fumed when she heard those remarks, but deep down, she knew it was true. Someday, she would show them all.
Crossing the dust-covered street, Evie wandered over to Barnaby’s. The dress was gone! Her heart dropped to her feet. She’d had such hopes for that dress. Maybe Robert Bentley would notice her. Evie had had her eye on him since the previous summer. His father owned the only real estate office in town, so right away Evie knew he was off-limits, but that didn’t deter her. She was sure if she had the right clothes, he would notice her.
She trudged back home, her heart heavy with resignation. She wanted so much more. Babies and worries. Her mother, at thirty-eight, looked twenty years older. Worn-out before her time. Not her. No way would Evie let that happen. No matter what she had to do, she would never live like her mother.
Evie was surprised to see her father home on Saturday. He was usually out begging for work from one of Sweetwater’s better families. A part of her admired him for his tenacity to provide for his family, no matter the cost. Another part of her wanted to shout at him and ask where his pride was. Did he have no shame? Still, he was her father, and she loved him, as much as she was capable of loving anyone. Evie had admitted to herself long ago that she could never love anyone but Evie. Look what happened to her parents, who professed to be in love. Eight children. The sacrifice was too great.
Her father smiled and walked toward her with a glint in his steel gray eyes. Maybe he had a real job. Evie hoped so, then maybe she would be accepted. He held a brown paper bag out in front of him.
“This is for you.” Her father handed her the sack.
Evie peered at the contents in the bag.
“I can’t believe it! How did you know?”
“I’ve seen you stop in front of Barnaby’s.”
Evie took the pale blue dress from the bag. She searched for the price tag, but couldn’t find it. She eyed her father, her gaze questioning.
“It was donated to the church. I got it from Edith; she’s seen you admiring it, too.”
Evie was instantly filled with rage. She tossed the swirl of blue on the ground. Charity? Did she want the dress that bad?
Without another word, she went inside, angry at her lot in life. She had coveted that dress, but now that it was hers, she didn’t think she could wear it. But if she did, maybe Robert would notice her.
Yes.
Pride lodged in her throat, and she swallowed deeply. Just this once.
Monday morning arrived. Evie was nervous, yet excited. She was sure this year would be different.
Evie slid into the small desk, her new dress sliding up her slender thigh. She’d taken her bra off in the rest room earlier. Not caring what she revealed, she scooted around in her seat, waiting for Robert. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his handsome face when he saw her breasts bursting out of the tight dress. She knew he had this class with her. She’d looked on the bulletin board first thing.
Barbara Richards, the most popular girl in school, was the first to notice her. As the classroom filled, Evie became more uncomfortable. Hushed whispers, an occasional giggle. She felt the eyes of the entire class on her. Robert Bentley stared at her, too. He looked at her breasts, then smirked right along with the rest of the class.
Barbara stood up from her desk in the front of the room and swaggered over to Casey’s desk. She centered her ice-blue gaze on her.
“Did you get the grease stain off the shoulder?” Barbara asked, then looked at the rest of the class. Laughter exploded.
Evie ran from the classroom.
Never! She would never go back to school. One day, she would show them all.
Chapter 7
“Eve, darling, you’re back,” John said as he embraced her. Evie cringed at the sound of her husband’s voice. Adjusting the scowl on her furrowed brow, she fell into his outstretched arms.
“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow. I know you’re anxious to see Casey.”
John patted her on the back, went to the mirror, and adjusted his tie. “I’m quite nervous myself.”
Evie watched as he primped, a smirk hardening the lines around her mouth. Did he expect Casey to care what he looked like? Poor thing could barely manage to dress herself.
“You look wonderful, John. I hear you’re coming down for dinner. Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I think if you continue to improve, we will take that trip we’re always talking about.” Evie stood behind John, wrapping her slim arms around his waist, alarmed at his frailty. John had been a big man when she married him. And fit. Well over six feet, and, at sixty-three, he’d had the physique men twenty years younger would’ve envied.
“Don’t be too hasty, dear. These old bones aren’t up to that, at least not yet. We shall see. Now tell me about your trip.” John shuffled over to his recliner and eased down into the soft, worn leather.
A man’s room, done in dark greens, browns, and soft beige. The one room Evie wasn’t allowed to change. Old leather and the lingering smell of cigars marked the room as John’s. Evie had refused to share this room when they married, saying it didn’t fit her feminine needs. John gave her a free hand and she redecorated the suite across the hall. It worked out perfectly. Excluding the few times John requested a conjugal visit, their arrangement was ideal.
“Just the usual,” Evie said. “I shopped, had lunch at Fuddruckers with Patricia. I do hate that name. I left early to prepare for Casey’s return. I’d hoped to arrive before she did, but it appears Rob . . . Mr. Bentley, saw to her release without notifying us.” She hoped her disgust wasn’t obvious.
John held out a branchlike arm and gestured to the phone on the bedside table.
“Oh, he did call. I guess Flora forgot to tell you. Blake found her walking downtown.”
“Walking? Did something happen at the hospital?”
“Evidently Casey got tired of waiting. I called and asked Blake if he’d mind fetching her. I think he was running behind. You know him. Nevertheless, she’s home, and I can’t wait to see my beautiful daughter.”
Beautiful? He hadn’t seen her. And she wasn’t his daughter. He acted like he wanted Casey there. Evie had thought the intrusion into their life would upset John. Obviously, she was wrong. She schooled her face into a practiced smile.
“That’s so typical of Blake. You would think after all poor Casey has been through, he could do something right for a change. I just don’t understand that man. I hope
you said something to him.” Anger settled in the lines she tried so hard to hide. She was glad now that she was standing behind John. She walked to the door and faced her wan husband, her outrage under control.
“Eve, we’ve been through this before. Not now. I thought you would be overjoyed. My God, your daughter has been institutionalized since we’ve been married. That’s all I’ve heard for years, you wanting your daughter back. Now your dream is a reality, and you continue to complain about Blake.” Huffing from his long speech, John gasped for each breath.
He slumped back in the chair, his breathing still labored. Eve watched in horror as John clutched his chest. As he struggled to convey his urgency to her, his arms flailing and legs stretched out before him, Evie stood transfixed.
Panic glazed his eyes. “Ugh, ’elp. Eeeh!”
John’s incoherent call for help finally jostled her into action.
Running to his side, Evie shouted at the top of her lungs, praying Flora would be in the hall.
“Flora! Call 911, it’s John!” Her shout was met with hurried footsteps.
She placed a shaky hand on John’s brow. Sweat beaded his forehead. As he tried to sit, Evie pushed him back into the recliner.
“Shhh, it’s going to be all right. Help is coming.”
Evie saw the pounding pulse in the veins of his neck. Faster and faster. My God! Is he having a heart attack? She ran to the door.
“Help! Someone . . . now!” She peered down the hall and saw Blake’s mad dash up the stairs.
Breathless, he entered the room without a glance at Evie.
He gripped John’s pale hand and looked at the designer watch on his wrist. Damn. He should have seen it coming. Hell, he was a doctor. He counted the pulsating heartbeats.
“Don’t just stand there, Eve, call an ambulance. Now!” Blake shouted.
“Damn you, Blake, I have. Rather, Flora did. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“Have Flora get Adam. He’s at the stables.” He turned back to John, whose skin was an unhealthy gray color.
“Hang on John. You’re going to be fine.” He brushed a hand through his damp hair. Holding his fingers against the throbbing vein in his best friend’s father’s neck, he was reassured for the moment—the pulse was steady.
He heard Adam bound up the stairs. Thankful for his arrival, Blake stood back as his friend entered the room. The smell of leather and hay clung to him, reminding Blake of what Adam had been doing before his call to duty. The horses.
Casual to a fault, Adam sauntered over to the chair where John lay, his pale skin lathered with perspiration.
“Hey, bud, what have you got yourself into now?” He touched a dirty hand to his father’s forehead. His nonchalant perusal gave Blake a moment of reprieve.
“Flora called the ambulance; it should be here any minute. Oh dear, this is so awful.” Evie went down on her knees and placed a hand on John’s chest.
Adam searched for Blake’s eyes over the blond crown of hair.
Too shaken to respond, Blake raised a winged brow, and mouthed, “Not now.”
Blake shifted John into a reclining position and removed his shoes. Reaching behind him for the footstool, he gently propped his feet up. Comfort was uppermost in his mind. He hadn’t ruled out a heart attack yet. John’s pulse continued to throb at a steady pace. Until the proper tests were run, he wasn’t going to dismiss anything. Feeling Adam’s fear, he looked into the face of his best friend and motioned for him to leave the room.
“Come on, Evie, I need you to get up.” Blake took her by the hand and gently pushed her in the direction of Flora, who remained in the doorway. For once she was too shocked to utter a single word.
Clearing the room was no easy task. They all loved John and wanted to be at his side. Blake didn’t want them to see what might be coming next. John Worthington was like a second father to him, and even more so since his own father’s death three years before.
The high-pitched wail of sirens in the distance allowed Blake to convince Evie and Adam to leave.
“Do what I say. I’ll take care of him.” He knew if it were his own father, he would’ve wanted to stay in the room, but as a doctor, he also knew what affect watching a loved one die could have. He knew. Firsthand. If at all possible, he would spare this family that pain.
Casey heard the sirens and ran out into the hall, where her mother and a strange man stood leaning against the wall. Flora was standing at the top of the steps. All were statue-still.
“Is something wrong?”
Adam looked at Flora, then Evie.
“My father may be suffering a heart attack. We don’t know anything, yet. Blake is with him now.”
Casey could see that worry rested in the deep crevices around his blue eyes. She longed to reach out and smooth away the worry lines. She didn’t think he would welcome her touch. Not now. How awful that her first meeting with Adam had to be under such tragic circumstances.
“I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” Distraught at the scene playing out in front of her, and not knowing what to say or do, Casey could only stare at the trio, praying that what Adam told her wasn’t true.
“There isn’t anything we can do. Evie, I hear the medics. Let them in.” Adam’s command left no room for questions.
Casey observed her mother’s compliance and realized there was more to her relationship with Adam than that of stepmother and stepson. Something much deeper. Was it fear she saw in her mother’s eyes?
Evie ran down the steps, her heels creating a soft thud on the plush steps.
The medics vaulted up the staircase, intent on their rescue. Casey watched in silence as they entered what she assumed was her stepfather’s suite of rooms. Her mother jumped as the door was slammed behind them.
Who closed the door? Was John Worthington dead? Was Blake trying to spare the family further distress?
Unsure of what her role was, Casey returned to her room. Feeling childish at her earlier behavior, she looked down at the outfit she wore and quickly changed into the teal pantsuit. What was she thinking of? She couldn’t go around looking like an escapee from the loony bin.
Casey left her room and closed the door behind her. She would show respect for the man who provided her with the clothes and the home that was more impressive than anything she could’ve imagined.
Flora motioned for her to join her at the top of the steps. They watched in silence as the paramedics carried a gurney down the staircase. Adam and Blake followed behind.
“It looks to me like Mr. John may have suffered a stroke. We won’t know until tests are done. Poor man, God bless him. He doesn’t deserve this.” Flora’s blue eyes were drowning in unshed tears.
Casey reached for the woman who in such a short period of time had reached out to her and offered comfort. She wanted to return the same comfort if she could. She wrapped her arms around Flora, taking pleasure in how good it felt to share a human touch.
Flora sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want anything to happen to John.”
“I know. I don’t either. I’m sure Adam and Blake will see that he has the best care possible.”
“You’re right, you know. I just hate to think of Swan House without him. It’s bound to happen, but still.” Flora reached for the railing and started down the stairs. “Let’s go in the kitchen. Maybe I can talk you into another piece of pie.”
“That sounds nice. Do you know where my mother went? Why don’t I ask her if she wants to join us.”
Flora reached for her arm and stopped her before she could walk away.
“She’s in John’s room. I’d leave her be for now. And one other thing, Casey. Your mother never enters the kitchen.”
“Why is that?”
“Says she cooked enough as a child. She had the full responsibility for her seven siblings growing up. I don’t think Ms. Evie had much of a childhood.” Flora shook her head either in denial or lack of
understanding.
Together, they entered a gleaming black-and-white kitchen. A stainless-steel refrigerator surrounded by stark, white cabinets was blinding to the eye after the heavy darkness of the other rooms.
An island in the center of the kitchen was scattered with mini flowerpots, and what looked like herb seedlings. Bright copper pots hanging from the ceiling gave the kitchen a homey, lived-in look. But it was the red-and-white-checkered curtains and seat cushions that drew Casey’s eyes. The room looked so cheerful, and it smelled heavenly from fresh-baked bread. She knew she was going to spend a lot of time in that room.
Casey sat at the scarred oak table, thinking it out of place, and yet it fit perfectly. Kind of like her.
Flora opened the cabinets and pulled out bright red plates, cups, and saucers. A pot of coffee appeared from out of nowhere, and soon Casey was munching on sweet pecans.
“Mabel must love the kitchen. It’s so cheery.”
Flora nodded as she sipped her coffee. “I think so. You’ll often find Adam and Blake here. Not for the cheeriness, mind you, but the food. The two of them eat like horses and never gain an ounce.”
“Growing boys, I guess.” Questions lodged in her throat.
“Flora, did I know either of them?”
“Not that I know of. You may have encountered Mr. Blake a time or two at the doc’s, but other than that, I don’t think so.”
“I wish I remembered. In time I’m sure I will. I want to talk to Mother. I need to understand why I was . . . gone for so long.”
Flora dropped her fork, the pinging sound giving off an echo. Casey started to take another bite, then stopped in midair. “What did I say?”
“I was about to ask you. Did you say what I thought you said?”
Casey was tired. Tired of talking. Tired of games. As much as she liked Flora, she just wished she would be straight with her.
“I said what you heard, Flora. I’ll repeat it. I don’t know why I was put away in that place. I didn’t then, and I don’t now. But, I’m going to find out. Is that clear enough?” Casey took her cup and saucer over to the sink and observed the twilight through the window. Dusk was settling over the grounds, bathing the rolling hillside in soft pinks, purples, and blues. How long had it been since she’d seen such a landscape? Too long and maybe never.
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