“I’m not running out,” she said tightly. “But Dillon can’t separate things in his own mind. He had enough trouble when it was just me and the farm. Now it’s you, something that’s hurt him all his life. He won’t get over that.”
A few days ago, Trent would have agreed. Now, having had a few days for the anguish in his heart to quiet down, he was beginning to wonder. “Maybe not. Or maybe if I’d hung around long enough to sort things out twenty-nine years ago, we wouldn’t all be in this mess today.”
“Is that what you wish had happened?”
He reached over to take her hand. “I could never wish away our relationship. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
“Not even your own son?”
His own son. Even having seen Dillon, Trent couldn’t quite take in the reality of that. The truth was impossible to deny, of course, but what did it mean to have a grown son you’d never known?
He supposed at least part of the reason he hadn’t been able to check out of The Downs was that he couldn’t walk away until he’d figured that out.
“I hope Dillon and I can work something out,” he said, not realizing until he’d spoken that he’d even harbored such a hope. “But it could never replace what I feel for you.”
If he’d hoped for some kind of reciprocal statement from his stepdaughter, he was disappointed. They rode in silence the rest of the way. When he parked at the hotel in Camden and they got out of the car, Angie met him on the sidewalk between their rooms and flung her arms around his neck. Her cheek was damp against his neck.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“And I love you, sweetheart.” He squeezed her, felt tears stinging his eyes. “I’ve done a lot of wrong things, but loving you isn’t one of them.”
Before she went to her room, she looked at him and said, “You did love Mom, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. She was a good woman. When I married her, I was young and angry and didn’t give a damn about anything but myself. But being around your mother, it was impossible not to change for the better.” He smiled. “She was that much like you.”
“Then why did you marry her? Why were you so angry?”
He dreaded telling her, dreaded what he might see in her eyes when she knew the whole story. But keeping secrets all these years had caused nothing but pain. So he leaned against his car and told her about his mother and the rich man who broke her heart and his foolish dreams of revenge.
He’d had his revenge, too, finally. After marrying Angie’s mother, he’d bought out the man who’d hurt his mother, had set her up in the house where she’d been a backdoor mistress for so long. But the victory was hollow. His mother had hated the place, had hated the judgmental looks from everyone in town. She had come to live with him and Angie before she passed away.
“So it was all for nothing?” Angie said.
“That’s all hate ever accomplishes, I suppose.”
“What about Harper? Is that why you wanted her, too?”
“That’s how it started out.”
“But you loved Harper. Even all these years later, you still love her, don’t you?”
“I didn’t know that until I saw her again. All those years, I thought I hated her.”
“And I thought you were pretty smart.”
Her knowing smile had made it hard to sleep the rest of the night, as if she had given him permission to hope. Trent didn’t want to delude himself, but it was damned hard not to think of possibilities. Especially when he remembered the hunger with which Harper had surrendered to him.
And what she’d said right before.
I loved you. Only you. I always have.
He heard Angie leave the motel the next morning and decided to leave himself. He needed to get back to the office. Maybe things would begin to make sense once he got back into his routine.
The knock came as he zipped his suit bag. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t his stepdaughter on the other side. It was Harper.
He thought his heart might stop or his knees might give way. He searched his soul for the anger and bitterness he’d felt a few days earlier but discovered it was gone.
“I wanted you to know how sorry I am,” she said in a nervous rush. “I made an awful mess of things. I’ve grieved over it for twenty-nine years. I know that won’t help, but—”
She shrugged. He couldn’t take in how different she was, and how much the same. He thought, as he watched the morning sun brighten the edges of her crisp, dark curls, that he could study her for hours.
“You’re more beautiful now, you know,” he said.
“Trent, I don’t think—”
“Will you come in? So we can talk?”
She glanced into the room uncertainly. Her eyes landed on the unmade bed.
“I promise,” he said. “Nothing…Just talk. Don’t you think we need to talk?”
She looked into his eyes. He saw so much distress there. Surely she needed resolution as much as he did. She nodded.
They sat at the little round table by the window. He opened the curtains to reassure her.
“It was so strange,” he said, “seeing him.”
He saw from her expression that she understood, in some small way, how inadequate those words were. For the first time, the impact of the sacred link between him and this woman struck him full force.
“I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” she said softly. “Dillon can be hotheaded.”
Trent found himself smiling. “He comes by it honestly.”
They laughed, and the sound was like a balm to Trent’s wounded spirit.
“I can tell you about him if you want,” she said. “What kind of man he is. And about Christine. My…our granddaughter.”
He wanted to know those things, of course. Why else had he been so weak that he’d had to have a glimpse of his son without even considering the upheaval he might cause? But he supposed he would have to learn those things for himself.
“I want to know what happened,” he said. “Back then.”
Pain skittered across her face. “Oh, God, Trent. I’m not sure I can go through it.” Her voice broke and Trent wasn’t sure he wanted to go through it, either. “If you only knew how many times I wanted to tell you. Needed to talk to you. But now…”
ANGIE WOULD HAVE GIVEN anything to leave Collins without seeing Dillon. But she could no more leave without speaking to him than she could refuse to admit she still loved him. So she’d come back to Weddington Farms one last time.
He had hurt her badly. She kept telling herself he had suffered a shock, that he didn’t know what he was saying, but the words could not be forgotten. She wasn’t sure if she could ever learn to forgive them.
She’d finally found someone who didn’t care about her money, and he believed she could pretend to love him just to clinch a business deal! She couldn’t even imagine what kind of pain could cause a man to say such a thing about the woman he loved.
Oh, yes, she believed he loved her. He would never have made such an accusation if he hadn’t. He would simply have turned his back and walked away. The words were born out of his own terrible pain, but that didn’t make them any more bearable.
Because the truth was, these revelations had caused Angie pain, too. She hadn’t even known where to begin to start sorting through all the hurt and confusion and anger that rolled about inside her like a boiling cauldron. But after talking to her stepfather, some of the hurt had subsided. Even seeing Harper face-to-face had helped, because she understood the hurt and confusion she’d seen in the other woman’s face.
Maybe seeing Dillon would help, too. Maybe he, too, had calmed down. She thought of what she knew of him, and doubted it.
She didn’t have to look for him. He and Christine were walking up the lane together. The minute Christine saw Angie, she dropped her father’s hand, ran toward Angie and threw her arms around her neck.
“I knew you’d come back. I knew you would.”
/> Angie hugged Christine, but she looked over her head at Dillon, who had stopped where he was.
“I told you I wouldn’t go away without saying goodbye.”
Christine struggled out of her embrace. “But you can’t go away. I haven’t told you about the riding show. I’m going to ride with the big people. You’ve got to come see me. You promised.”
Angie wondered why promises so easily given should be so hard to take back. It was a good thing she and Dillon hadn’t made any.
“I don’t know if I can,” Angie said. “I have to go away with my father.”
“No, you promised!” Christine cried. “You did! You did!”
“Christine, I’m sorry, but I told you I would if I could.”
“You can’t go back on your promise.”
“Christine.”
But her father’s voice didn’t calm the child. She balled up her fists and stamped her foot. “You don’t want to watch me! You don’t like me anymore! I know you don’t!” She turned and ran toward the house.
“Let her go,” Dillon said. “Floretha will calm her down. Then I’ll talk to her.”
At least something good had come out of this. Dillon could finally talk to his daughter. Angie stood. She would never have imagined she could feel worse than she did when she arrived. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it would upset her so.”
“Why did you come?”
“You didn’t expect me to leave without coming back, did you?”
“I don’t know. When you left that night, I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“I had to be alone.”
He reached out to touch her. She backed away. She couldn’t let him touch her, hold her, kiss her. It would hurt too much. He looked distraught, but she couldn’t help him. She could barely help herself.
“I’m sorry for what I said. You know I didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t know what you meant. What’s more, I don’t think you did, either. We both need time to adjust, to get used to things.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Look at farms. That’s what I came here to do.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought I wanted Weddington Farms at all costs, but I never did. I told your mother this morning I’m withdrawing my offer.”
He looked surprised. And relieved. You’d think Weddington Farms was the only farm in the world. It was pretty wonderful, but she might not have wanted it so much if she hadn’t been attracted to Dillon.
“Are you going to come back?”
“No. Why should I?”
“I love you.”
She hoped the pain didn’t show in her eyes. “Maybe, but everything is all tangled up in your mind…me, the farm, my stepfather. At times you don’t know what you feel or what you want. I can’t live with that. I have to know you love me in spite of everything else.”
“I do.”
“Maybe, but you were unsure enough to think I could pretend to love you.”
“I told you I was angry.”
“I don’t mind anger, Dillon. Dad shouts all the time, but he never doubts me. You’ll have to be able to do the same.”
“How can I get in touch with you?”
“If you want me badly enough, you’ll find a way.”
Dillon moved more quickly than she anticipated. He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her ruthlessly. His arms nearly crushed the breath out of her.
“This is not the end,” he said with fierce urgency.
Angie disentangled herself from his embrace and righted her clothes. “I’ve got to go.” She walked to the car then looked back. “I did want this farm, but I wanted you and Christine even more.”
She got in and quickly started the motor. He didn’t move when she backed up and pulled into the lane. He still hadn’t moved when she rounded the bend. Angie sagged. She was leaving behind nearly everything she wanted. Would she ever get it back?
HARPER DIDN’T WEEP and fall into his arms, although God knew she wanted to. And Trent barely reacted at all, although she registered his flinch when she told him about Red Jannik. On some level, she registered all his reactions as he learned about the home in Atlanta, the awful moment when she had realized the truth and made her decision to keep their baby. Anger. Despair. That aching need to call it all back, to do it all over.
“I was supposed to give him up. Some couple was ready to adopt him. But once I knew,” she said, “I couldn’t do it. I loved him with all my heart, the same way…Anyway, I decided then that I would find you. That I would explain and show you our baby and everything would be all right.”
She couldn’t look at him for long; the bleakness on his face was too painful.
“But I couldn’t find you. Even the people in your hometown didn’t know where you were.”
“You went to Whitlaw?”
She nodded. “I tried everything. I honestly believed I could set things right. But you’d vanished.”
He told her, then, about years on the road, working odd jobs from Alaska to Miami and everywhere in between.
“I was running from all of it. And it’s just occurred to me that I was so eager to believe that you were only using me because…because that’s what I’d intended. To use you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were rich and spoiled and at first I hated you as much as I wanted you. I had a plan.”
Her mouth was dry. “A plan?”
He looked down, then up, directly into her eyes. “You were going to be my ticket. To money. To power.”
“Oh.”
“So I could get revenge for my mother.”
She vaguely remembered the story he’d told her about the rich man who’d broken his mother’s heart. Her own heart constricted in her chest for the two young people they’d been.
“But the plan backfired,” he said. “When I fell in love with you.”
“God, we were fools.”
“I didn’t stop being a fool for a long time. I dragged Angie and her mother into my little scheme with me.”
“But you love Angie. And she loves you.”
“That’s a gift I don’t deserve. By all rights, she should despise me. But Angie…I never knew how unconditionally children love you.”
She longed to touch him. Longed to be held in his arms, as if that could wipe out the empty years, the thousands of tears she had shed. But she was afraid of the passion that had ignited between them a few days earlier, afraid of giving in to it again. Reliving those moments these last few days had made it all harder to bear. She didn’t need that.
They talked until dusk softened the room. When they noticed that twilight was descending, Harper stood.
“I should go,” she said.
He nodded but kept his distance as she went to the door.
“Goodbye, Trent,” she said, wondering if it should feel less painful this time than it had that spring day twenty-nine years ago.
“Goodbye, Harper.”
She didn’t pause long enough to memorize his face, for she doubted it would leave her. As she drove away, she felt something release inside her, something that had felt tight and scarred for far too long. She could only hope that healing had begun, for both of them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DILLON SCANNED the faces in the crowd gathered around the riding ring. He experienced a sharp pang of disappointment when he didn’t see Angie.
Things had remained touchy between him and Christine until he’d promised to talk to Angie one more time about coming to Christine’s competition. He’d left word at her office in Charlotte—she wasn’t in, or hadn’t wanted to talk to him, he wasn’t sure which—hoping she would show up.
Christine had been on edge all day. She seemed less excited about her first competition than fearful Angie wouldn’t come. He knew what worried him most.
Angie. Everything hung in the balance. He’d told her he loved her. But everythi
ng was so messed up now, he wasn’t sure she believed him. Or maybe she didn’t believe love was enough anymore.
“Is she here?” Christine asked. “Do you see her?”
“Not yet.”
“But it’s almost time to start.”
“Not for ten minutes yet.”
“That’s not much time.”
“It’s enough.”
Dillon hoped he was right. Christine had been more concerned with looking for Angie than she had been about saddling Eddie. If Dillon hadn’t been there, the saddle would still be in the van and Eddie unattended.
“I don’t see Grandma, either.”
“She’ll be here.”
But Dillon was nervous about that, too. Harper hardly spoke at all these days. He was growing short-tempered from his effort to pretend things weren’t terribly wrong.
“There’s Angie!”
Christine shrieked so loudly both Eddie and Dillon started. Before Dillon could find Angie in the crowd, Christine was flying through the tangle of people and horseflesh, not once looking where she was going.
When he caught sight of Angie, something turned over inside him. It was immediately and blazingly clear that she was just about everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. It wasn’t just the slim figure clad in a cream-colored shirt and khaki slacks. It wasn’t just the genuine smile that transformed her face when Christine launched herself at her. It was more the questioning, unsure expression he saw on her face when she noticed him.
She didn’t look like a wealthy executive who could buy and sell him a dozen times over. She looked like a woman who wanted love and was afraid she had lost it, a woman who knew her happiness was not entirely within her own control.
So here he stood, holding on to the damned pony because somebody had to, waiting for Christine to bring Angie to him, wondering how the hell to make her believe his love for her was stronger than his anger and bitterness.
Dillon helped his daughter into the saddle while she chattered away with Angie and waved with nervous excitement when her grandmother appeared. But the focus of Dillon’s attention wasn’t his daughter, it was the woman beside her. The woman who was encouraging Christine, calming her and bringing a light into the little girl’s eyes that hadn’t been there for weeks.
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