by Rhodes, Beth
The giving in made resentment grind against his backbone.
Grow up. He liked his lifestyle, enjoyed the benefits of the wealth his grandfather and father had acquired and earned. If he wanted to keep it, it was time to let go of the idea that he could walk away. And maybe, just maybe, this would be his last trip.
He needed to settle down. Get serious. His dad had started making hints about the next step, wondering what he planned for his life—marriage? But he hadn’t had a serious relationship since Van—in Connecticut, and knew getting married would never be for him. But his dad was right. There had to be an heir—
Shit. The fact that the word even crossed his mind gave him the heebie-jeebies. This wasn’t fucking England. He wasn’t some silver-spooned Charles—no, William. “What the fuck ever,” he whispered to himself.
But no matter, his dad had one son. His grandfather had one son…
And when all the bullshit was set aside, he knew that’s what everyone was thinking. Settle down. Find a nice girl. Have a baby or two.
His stomach actually curdled at the thought.
He cleared his throat and looked up when a little Audi drove up the drive way and parked behind his truck. His mom got out. His gaze went from her to the woman still sitting in the passenger seat.
Hell, he hadn’t let himself think about his mom at all in a long time. She’d quit the letters in the last year, too. So her appearance in his drive unsettled him. Oh, he was aware enough of her to know she lived in the neighboring town and practiced medicine at a clinic there, but inside, apathy displaced the anger. He had nothing. Not forgiveness or sadness. Just…a big fat nothing.
“What do you want?” He checked for his wallet in his back pocket and stepped around her to his side of the vehicle.
“You’re leaving.”
He turned to her. “And…”
“Um, well. I—” Mom cleared her throat. And he frowned. She wasn’t usually indirect or hesitant to have her say. “I’d thought we could have lunch. Coffee.”
David made a show of checking his watch, but inside his heart pounded like he was a school boy again. Pissed him off, too. “I’m on my way out of town. Won’t be back until the end of the month.”
“Right.” She cleared her throat again and glanced back at the woman in the car.
“What, Mom? Just spit out whatever it is. I need to get on the road before Dad finds me and gives me one last form to sign and then I end up sitting and reading the small print for the next forty minutes.”
She laughed, nervously. “Right.” She paused. “I love you, David.”
Everything in him drew back as if she’d slapped him. The reaction was juvenile instinct and threw him for a loop.
Her hand slipped into the purse on her shoulder and she pulled something out then stepped forward, took his hand in her own, and placed a small box in his palm. He noted the large, very shiny ring on her left hand.
She’d remarried, finally.
“This is yours now. It was your grandmother’s first. And it goes to the March women, down the line.”
David frowned. “I don’t need this.”
“You will.”
But he shook his head.
“Keep it. It’s worth a fair amount of money.” Her smile then was sad, but she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “When you’re ninety and old and crotchety so that no woman will ever have you, you can sell it and finance that cruise ship for a good long sail around the world.”
He tucked the ring box into his pocket. “I really need to go. Trying to make Pennsylvania before nightfall.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together and the tell-tale sheen of tears in her eyes. “Have a safe trip.”
“Thanks.”
She turned back to her car.
“Mom,” he said, feeling hollowed out but wanting to fill that space, too. “Thank you, really.” For saying I love you. For being there even though he’d thrown her affection back in her face, over and over.
“No problem.” And then she was gone.
The resentment of the last eighteen years sat heavy on his heart. He didn’t want it anymore.
As he got on the road, he put it all out of his mind and let Aerosmith drown out thoughts of his own happiness. His wants. His needs. His desires…
Had that really only been five months ago?
It was like his mother had known what was coming. That was unsettling, to say the least, yet also in a weird way, comforting. Perhaps they were connected on some level, and maybe that’s why he’d refused to get rid of all those letters over the years.
The closer to home he got, the harder his pulse pounded. He’d texted and called several but gotten no response. The snow was falling heavily as he pulled into the drive and noted that his dad’s car was also here. Good. He wouldn’t have to drive into town.
He came into the kitchen and was met with silence. “Maria?” he called out to her. “Maria!”
Mrs. Kraus poked her head out of the laundry room as he hurried down the hall toward the front of the house. “Haven’t seen her in a while. Maybe she found the library?” She folded a towel in thirds. “Welcome home, by the way, young man.”
David’s forward motion stopped and he turned back to kiss the housekeeper on the cheek. “Thanks.”
Her gaze narrowed on him, and he felt a blush rise on his neck. Stupid.
“Mmhmm,” she said, nodding her head. “I knew it.”
“What?”
But she just shrugged.
At the front hallway, he turned right down another narrow hallway that led to a tall, just-as-narrow doorway. Inside was the library. Nothing obscenely large, it was a room packed to the gills with shelves from floor to ceiling. Dark mahogany woods and deep burgundy tapestries. As a kid, it had always reminded him of being on a ship. Or what he’d imagined a ship would be like. The two porthole windows high on the walls reinforced that idea.
The sitting area in the corner was empty. No one sat in the wingback chair or lounged on the floor against the over-sized pillows.
David made his way upstairs and threw open the door to his room, but it was also undisturbed. He frowned as a bad feeling settled inside him. She hadn’t come back here when she’d returned from California. A part of him had thought…maybe, because of their night together and the connection that seemed so strong whenever they were on the west coast…she’d be with him here, too.
“David.”
He turned to his father, immediately suspicious. “What happened here? Where is Maria?”
“I’m sure she’s around somewhere. She wouldn’t leave her sugar daddy.”
A rage streaked through him.
“She’s been living it up while you were gone. Withdrawing cash, shopping to her dear heart’s content.” Dad’s words came out on a sneer. But David’s thoughts veered into a completely different zone. He’d meant to add her name to an account. Even in the first week after she’d arrived, but so much had happened he’d forgotten.
“Fuck.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything to that girl.”
David strode by him and down the hallway to the guest bedroom. “She has her own money, Dad. She’s never been a tramp or a gold-digging hussy, ever.”
“She’s not one of us, son.”
“She’s mine!” He whirled around. “And if you’ve done anything to hurt her, I swear—”
He opened the door to her room. The bed was unmade and clothes were strewn about, as if she’d, what? Thrown a temper tantrum? No. Not Maria.
And then he saw them—the photos, the manila envelope, and his father’s small neat handwriting. His heart sunk and his hand shook as he picked up one of the photos. “How—?”
“There’s one thing I’ve never been able to get across to you, David. It takes more than business smarts to run a business, and those you’ve got. But you have an image to keep—in this town, with your clients. I won’t have you ruining t
he face of this business with that woman, with a child you still don’t know is yours—for sure—”
“I’m sure—”
“Naïve.” His dad interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. “It was easy enough to have you followed, and easy enough to convince Tammy you needed help.”
Pressure built against his breastbone. “You, you…you’ve ruined everything.”
He clenched his fists, the ache to take a swing so strong he stepped forward. He didn’t care about what was right or wrong.
“Now, David—”
“Shut up,” he yelled, but his gaze was caught by the dark line of a shadow in the backyard. He hurried to the window. A trail. “Oh, no.”
He began a quick search of her room for anything—shoes, jacket…her gloves.
“What are you doing now?”
“I’m looking for something,” he answered with a bite to his voice he’d never used with his dad before. Nothing. “She left, took a walk. Just walked out the back door after getting…this!” David shook the ugly evidence at his father. “And it’s supposed to start blizzarding in the next hour.”
“She’s probably fine—”
“Don’t,” he started as he left her room and headed back to his own. David hurriedly changed into winter gear and then ran down the stairs. He made a quick stop for his long coat and grabbed an extra set of gloves and a scarf. “Mrs. Kraus,” he called as he passed the laundry and walked into the kitchen.
She grinned from her place at the counter where she was organizing a pile of note cards. “Did you find Maria? She’s been so anxious to have you home.”
“No, but…did you see her come through here?”
“Well, she woke up late today.” Mrs. Kraus dropped the cards. “I assumed she’d found something quiet to do. She wasn’t in the library?”
“No. I saw footprints in the backyard. I think she left.”
“Oh, my dear. It’s really snowing now. Even if she stayed to the trail…” Her words faded on the horrible unspoken thought. “Call your grandfather. He can track from the cabin.”
David left the house and hurried to the trail, which existed since before David was born. There were parts of it that had been paved, parts that were laid with railroad ties, and still other parts so worn and overgrown a person might not see it at all.
His parents had never worried when he got the itch to visit Grandpa. And adventure would begin. He’d strap his little knife to his belt and pack a bag over his shoulder. But he’d been a boy, who was raised in these woods. Maria was…not.
He loved it here, and loving it, knew how dangerous it could be—in the cold, in a storm. More than an idiotic tourist or two had lost their life to the winters here. His feet crunched over dead wood and iced snow. And still, he followed her footsteps as he took his phone from his pocket.
“Tanner here,” his grandfather answered the phone, and David knew that he stood at the fireplace and the small table with an old rotary phone on it.
“Grandpa,” he spoke, blowing out a breath of relief. “I need your help. I got home and my—wife,” Crap. He almost said friend, because he wanted to hide the truth, and avoid what he really felt—shame; he’d cut himself off, even from his grandpa— “Maria, went for a walk. I’m following her trail, but the snow is really coming down now.”
And he thought of all his dad had said about Maria, and what Tammy had said about him. Maybe he was a bastard. He hadn’t even told his grandfather he’d gotten married. “I’m really worried.”
“Dark-haired woman, about five five? Slim? Pretty?”
David stopped on the trail. “You have her?”
“Well now, she’s here,” he answered with a laugh. “Why don’t you make your way, and you can have her back.”
“She’s okay?” David asked, as the tension fled his bones and his feet sped up on the slick ground.
“She’s fine. Fired up but fine.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll be there soon.”
He stuffed the phone into his pocket and ran through the tall pines and bare eastern oaks, which opened up to a clearing. Snow and fog obstructed his view. His hands were frozen in his gloves. His jeans, without thermals under them, were stiff against his skin.
But he knew his grandpa would have water on the stove and a firing roaring in the fireplace. If he was lucky, Maria would still be here—steaming mad. He didn’t care if she was angry at him, as long as she was safe and unharmed.
He stomped his feet on the wood planks that crossed the front porch, and the door opened in front of him.
“David.”
The old man waved him in, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. He’d been so busy with work, gaining the next level, the next rung on the ladder. Liar, you just avoid personal connection, asshole.
He was paying a price by shutting the people he— Damn it. He could hardly think the word, much less say it. Love. Love, love, love.
“Been a long time.”
“Yeah.” David cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry, Grandpa.”
Grandpa patted his shoulder. “Come on in.”
The front door opened directly into the kitchen. His grandfather had wanted it that way, stating there would be less traffic on the pretty carpet his wife wanted in the living room. Grandpa thumbed to the living room. “She’s in there.”
David crossed the friendly space, the aluminum table with its red top and the matching chairs. The old Frigidaire sat in the corner with a chest freezer next to it along the wall. And rough-hewn cabinets lined the floor and ceiling all the way around.
His grandfather ate what he hunted and his freezer was always full for the winter. Since Grandma had passed away, he’d taken to buying canned vegetables and storing them in the dirt cellar. But when summer came around, his garden would be the envy of every family in town.
David crossed the threshold into the formal living room.
And there she was, sitting in the rocker next to the fireplace with an old afghan wrapped around her shoulders. She held a mug in her hands and there was fire in her eyes.
She drew him in with that fire.
But he hesitated to cross the room. He’d wanted no strings, no emotions, no hurt. She’d been hurt.
“You left. You shouldn’t have left without telling anyone.” What was wrong with him? He wanted to grab her, hold her, feel her in his arms. Instead, he was picking a fight.
“I—” She cut herself off, as if trying to control some overpowering urge, and bit her lip. “I’ll do what I please.”
“The woods can be dangerous this time of year—” He stopped. What the fuck was he doing? He needed to mention the photos, apologize.
“Dangerous,” she growled, setting her mug on the stone hearth next to her chair. The blaze he’d noted in her eyes seared him as she rose from her seat and came towards him. “I walked straight here, thank you very much. I didn’t get lost or wander around. No one found me, David March. I can take care of myself.”
“I came home and you weren’t there.” He was starting to sweat a little. Her statement could have been a foreshadowing, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want her taking care of herself. “I was worried, God damn it!”
He turned away. “Shit,” he whispered. He hadn’t wanted to lose it.
“You were?” The disbelief in her voice knifed through him.
“Hey, kids.” Grandpa broke through the tension. “David, can I get you some coffee?”
He looked at her then, never taking his eyes from her. “Can you give me a few minutes, Grandpa? And I’d love a cup of joe.”
His grandfather looked from one to the other. “Take it easy in here. That’s your grandmother’s nice furniture, hear?”
David smiled, because for as long as he could remember, Tanner had been saying the same thing every time he visited.
Her shoulders fell a little, her eyes had that awful glistening of tears.
“Yes, Maria.” She was surprised he would worry? “I was worried.
Do you know how many people wander off in the woods up here? Get lost? I thought—”
She dropped the blanket and hurried to him, threw her arms around him. And he circled her with his own arms and laid his cheek on the top of her head. “Maria. Please, don’t ever scare me like that, again.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest and sniffled, but he could tell she was regaining her composure as she stepped back. “You have a grandfather,” she stated.
“Yes.”
“He’s a very nice man. Fortunately, I met him at the bank yesterday, so when I came across the cabin, he welcomed me with a friendly smile and an offer of tea or coffee.”
“I like him.” David eyed her warily. She was going somewhere... and there was anticipation because he could see her feisty spirit coming through.
“Do you?”
“Of course, I do. What’s that supposed to mean?”
She wrung her hands in front of her. “Why wouldn’t you have invited him to our wedding? I don’t know how in the hell he knew who I was or how I was married to you, but he seems genuinely caring, and I like him.”
“Small town, Ree. He probably heard from the judge who married us. They hunt together sometimes. And my grandpa does get into town occasionally.” His gaze went to her hand. “Plus, you’re wearing my grandma’s wedding band.”
“What?” she gasped and quickly pulled the ring from her finger. “I knew it was special. And he saw me wearing it yesterday when we were at the bank. That’s probably why he stopped to say hello.”
When the tears starting falling, the beginnings of panic fluttered against his spine.
“How could you, David?” She thumped his chest, and he stared down at the spot and rubbed it. She was betrayed and angry, and magnificent, but so small. It was like a mouse pounding an offensive wall. He wanted to lift her into his arms and kiss her anger away.
And boy, was she angry, brows furrowed, eyes blazing. “I didn’t even use your name when I introduced myself. He’s probably been wondering who the thieving spic is, robbing people of their valuables.”