Divided Hearts

by Carolyne Aarsen

  As soon as she straightened, she saw him. He sat at a picnic table, his tailored suit an incongruity beside the rough wood of the table. He stood as Cory approached. The sun, filtered through the trees above him, dappled his hair and face.

  Deep within her, Cory felt the same faint brush of attraction she had felt in the restaurant. Enemy or not, it wasn’t hard to see why Kelsey thought he was appealing.

  It was something Cory had fought from the first time she had seen him in court. Before she knew who he was.

  Thankfully he was alone.

  She could still do it, thought Matthew as Cory walked across the grass toward him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.

  Just the way she’d angle her head, that slightly mocking grin that wasn’t quite a smile could create the feeling that he’d been measured and found wanting.

  He didn’t know why it should matter to him, he thought, standing as she got closer. He’d known Cory since she was in high school and he was a college student working toward a job in his father’s law firm. He’d heard off and on about Cory and Joyce Smith from the times Zeke would come and visit. He’d seen his father’s friend in tears over the fact that Joyce wasn’t allowing him access to his beloved stepdaughter after their divorce. And the fact that, daily, Cory was turning against him and growing wilder by the day.

  On top of that, his cousin—Deirdre, a sweet young girl—had been hanging around with Cory, something Matthew had concerns about.

  Now she headed toward him, looking at him as if he was the villain in her life’s play.

  She had been attractive as a young girl. Now, her face was narrower, her dark-brown eyes were thickly lashed. Her hair had a sheen to it and she wore it longer. Age had given her a shift to her features that had turned her from cute into stunning.

  “Hello,” she said, her eyes flicking over him with easy detachment as she came closer.

  “Hello again, Cory,” he replied evenly. “Thanks for coming.”

  She lifted her shoulders with a graceful movement that acknowledged his comment and dismissed it. But as she sat, Matthew saw a combination of challenge and fear flicker in the depths of her eyes. Just as quickly, it was gone. He could have avoided this meeting, could have told his secretary to contact Cory. But some undefinable need to see her again made him want to do this in person.

  “So, what did you need to tell me?” she asked, folding her hands on the table, looking anywhere but at him.

  Trust her to get straight to the point.

  “It took me quite a while to find you,” he said as he settled on the bench across from her.

  “My mother and I have only lived here for nine months,” she said. Her voice was flat and expressionless. “Zeke hasn’t found us yet. Either you’re better than him, or he did all the legwork and sent the hired help.”

  Matthew held her indignant gaze. During his career, he had held his own against hostile witnesses, angry judges, and perturbed lawyers. Somehow, she always unnerved him.

  As her words sunk in, he realized that she didn’t know. How could she have? He had a difficult enough time tracking her down.

  Matthew looked away and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, gathering his thoughts. He hadn’t counted on this. He had assumed she knew. How was he going to tell her?

  Matthew lifted his head, holding Cory’s now puzzled gaze. He knew her well enough to know that with her, the direct approach was best. “Zeke Smith is dead,” he said.

  Cory looked at him, her expression one of puzzlement and confusion. “What did you say?”

  Matthew leaned forward and took a deep breath, wondering if he should take her hand in consolation. Give her some measure of sympathy. Breaking the news was harder than he had imagined. “Your stepfather passed away three weeks ago.”

  “How did he...?” Cory’s words drifted off as she lifted a hand and let it fall.

  “He died of a heart attack. He was in his home.”

  “Heart attack,” Cory repeated, looking away, pressing her fingers to her mouth. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, shaking her head as she lowered her hand.

  “He was living in Wakeley, Southern Alberta. I’m so sorry you had to hear it this way.”

  “We didn’t know.” Cory just stared straight ahead. “We didn’t know at all. My mom and Zeke have been divorced for many years. How could we know?”

  “You have my sympathy,” he said again.

  Silence lay heavy between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind in the trees above.

  Cory covered her eyes with her hand. “May God have mercy on him,” she whispered. She stayed that way as time stretched between them.

  In spite of the animosity that always flared in her eyes whenever they met, he wanted to sit beside her, to comfort her somehow. He resisted the urge, knowing Cory would rebuff him as she had before.

  Finally, Cory raised her head, her expression noncommittal as she drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for letting me know. But I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way to Sweet Creek just to tell me that Zeke died?”

  She was astute, he thought. As always. And she was surprisingly reserved about such devastating news.

  He thought she might be upset, anything other than this cool detachment. Shock maybe?

  “You’re right,” he said, gathering his thoughts and emotions, turning to the practical but keeping an eye on her just in case she broke down. “I also came to tell you about your stepfather’s will. My father is your father’s executor. Zeke has named you as chief beneficiary in his most recent will.”

  “What did you say?” Cory exclaimed.

  “Your stepfather left everything he owns to you.”

  She stared at him, as if she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  “He left everything to me?” Her tone was incredulous.

  “I have a copy here that I need you to look at.”

  Cory ignored the papers he was shuffling. “What did he leave to my mother?”

  “She’s not named in the will.”

  “How he must have hated her.” Cory shook her head slowly, as if trying to absorb what he just told her.

  “I don’t think it was hate,” Matthew replied. “It was concern for you that made him do this. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

  Cory played with the ends of her dark hair, twisting them around her finger.

  “My stepfather was never concerned about either of us,” she said, finally looking at the papers in front of Matthew. “Everything he ever did was to show my mother or me that he had control. That’s what was important to him. Control.”

  Matthew didn’t want to argue with her. Not now. He was sure her emotions were unstable. It must be a shock to her to hear about her stepfather’s death from him.

  He knew Zeke Smith, and all he had done for Cory, a girl who wasn’t even his biological daughter. Matthew had listened to Zeke’s sorrow over Cory’s lack of desire to see him and how he longed to help her.

  So he said nothing, only turned the papers she needed to sign toward her.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “You look over the financial statements and the list of assets and sign that all is satisfactory. That’s the first step for you.”

  Cory tapped her thumbs together, pulling in one corner of her mouth while she looked down at the papers. She sat back and looked at Matthew. “You know, this sounds too good to be true.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Cory glanced at the papers but didn’t pick them up. “I still can’t believe that Zeke Smith is permanently out of our lives. You’ll have to understand that this is a shock.” She pushed the papers back to Matthew. “I don’t want anything from him.”

  Matthew’s mouth almost fell open. “Excuse me,” he said, not believing what she had just said. “Are you saying you don’t want to accept what he’s giving you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “This is most unusual.”

&
nbsp; “There’s always a first.”

  “Think on this for a while, Cory. I wouldn’t make any rash judgments. Your stepfather’s estate wasn’t enormous, but it is still a substantial sum.”

  “How substantial?”

  Matthew almost laughed. Money always got people in the end.

  Matthew turned to one of the pages and showed her. “It lists the amount here.”

  Cory tilted her head, studying the paper, her hair slipping across her cheek. She pushed it away again with a graceful motion. “I don’t think so.” She glanced up at Matthew. “I know we’ll never see eye to eye on who and what my stepfather was. I know he was your client, and you and your father defended him well. But I have taken enough from Zeke Smith in my life, and not in the way you think. I promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t take anything from him anymore.” She waved her hand at the papers. “I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust you,” she said.

  “It’s a legal will, drawn up by my father and witnessed properly. As far as we can see, Zeke’s estate is in order. My father should know. He’s dealt with enough estates.” Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he was angered at her implication that his father was a shoddy lawyer and, by extension, that he was too.

  Cory just smiled. “Maybe. But I’ve learned the very hard way that with Zeke Smith, nothing, and I repeat nothing, is as it appears to be. He had you fooled.” She looked at him, her eyes holding his. “I’m sorry this trip was so pointless.”

  Without a second glance at him or the papers still lying on the table, she got up and strode to her car, her head held high.

  Matthew picked up the documents, still trying to absorb the shock. Zeke wasn’t wealthy, but the amount he was giving to Cory, even after taxes, would set her up in comfort. How could she not want any part of that?

  Behind that came the question of his and his father’s next step. They couldn’t move on anything until the papers were signed or Cory had stated how she wanted to dispose of the estate.

  He had to stifle the surge of impatience.

  He had come to Sweet Creek for two reasons. To see Cory and give her the news and to represent his family at Nathan and Mary Stanley’s anniversary. Nathan and his wife were old friends of his father, and while Clifton would have loved to come, work kept him too busy. So Matthew, knowing he had to see Cory anyway, had agreed to attend.

  He only had a few days before going back to his busy practice in Edmonton and an ex-girlfriend who didn’t want to acknowledge the end of the relationship.

  Matthew watched Cory get into her car and back out of the parking stall, shock vying with anger at the abrupt ending to their meeting and her implied insult. What a stubborn, frustrating girl.

  Correction, he thought. Cory was no girl. Not anymore.

  She became more attractive in the intervening years. And even more frustrating. Trust her to make harder what should be a simple job.

  Chapter Two

  “Zeke is dead?”

  Cory held her mother by the shoulders, easing her down onto the couch.

  “He died a few weeks ago.”

  Joyce raised her hands as if to do something, then let them fall into her lap. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Neither can I,” Cory said. When Matthew told her, it was as if it weren’t real. Repeating his words to her mother and seeing her response seemed to underline the reality for her.

  Joyce slowly and deeply inhaled, settling herself. “It’s over,” she murmured. “The running, the looking back.” She shook her head. “It’s over.”

  “Yes.” Cory held Joyce’s chilled hands between her own. “It is truly over.” Despite her feelings for Zeke Smith, despite the pain and misery he caused them, Cory’s face tightened, her throat thickened, and she closed her eyes against the hot tears.

  “Oh, hon,” her mother said. “Don’t cry. Not for him.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Cory sniffed, palming the tears from her cheeks. “I have disliked him for so many years...been so scared of him....” She drew in a shaky breath. “I never thought I would shed any tears over him.”

  “It’s a mixture of feelings, I’m sure,” Joyce said, stroking Cory’s hair back from her face. “Relief may be part of it.”

  Cory nodded, smiling at her mother regardless of the turmoil of her thoughts. “It’s not over yet, Mom. Matthew McKnight came to tell me that Zeke named me as chief beneficiary of his estate.”

  Joyce blinked, stared at Cory, then laughed shortly. “He put you in his will?”

  “Not only put me, Mother—left me everything. It’s a substantial sum.” She said the words with a measure of disdain, remembering Matthew’s intonation. As if the size of the estate would make her see Zeke in a different light.

  Joyce shook her head. “I can’t believe he did that. After all the things he did to you, all the tricks he pulled. The deceit, the maneuvering...all to bend you to his will...” Joyce stopped, and Cory could see her mentally counting, trying to stave off another attack of pain. When Joyce took a slow breath, Cory could see she had succeeded. Her mother’s fibromyalgia attacks made her tired and left Cory feeling helpless.

  Joyce turned to Cory then, smiling her reassurance. “It’s okay, Cory.” She lay her head back, closing her eyes.

  “You should go to bed.”

  “I will. But first tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “I don’t trust Zeke’s action. I told Matthew that.”

  Joyce smiled wanly. “You’re right not to trust him. But I don’t expect young Matthew McKnight would understand that, let alone his father.”

  Cory heard her rising anger then stroked her arm to settle her. Matthew’s news was causing more distress than he would ever know. It brought back emotions and feelings that both she and her mother had guarded and banked for so long.

  “He seemed quite surprised. Told me to think about it,” Cory said, glancing around the small living room of their apartment, taking in the worn furniture, the gouges on the coffee table, the faded paint on the walls. In spite of all she knew, she had a moment of second thoughts. “The money might come in handy....”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Cory,” Joyce countered, turning to face her daughter. “Don’t let him make you hope. Zeke may be dead, but he’ll find a way to disappoint you, even from the grave. You should know that by now.”

  Cory nodded, angry that she had even entertained the faint possibility. How many times did she have to be let down to realize that anything Zeke touched or held or offered would be tainted?

  Joyce sighed. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. This may seem hard to understand, but at one time, I loved him.” She was quiet a moment, and Cory wondered what was going through her head. Regret? Sorrow? Her mother certainly lived through enough of both.

  “You married him,” Cory said. “I’m sure you had a reason for that.”

  “He was a charming man. He played that part well. And I wanted a home for you.” Joyce stopped abruptly. She reached out, taking Cory’s hand again. “You’ve been a blessing, Cory. Though I had to give up your brother, I’m thankful that I could keep and support you. I can thank Zeke for that much.”

  “Do you ever think of Nik, Mom?”

  Joyce gave Cory a look heavy with regret. “I try not to.” This was followed by a long, indrawn breath, as if she was collecting herself, her eyes looking inward.

  “Once in a while, I wonder where he is, and if he is happy. Wonder what he’s doing now.” Joyce ran her thumb over Cory’s knuckles. “When that social worker at the women’s shelter recommended I give Nik up, I was devastated.” She squeezed Cory’s hand. “But what could I do? Your father was dead. I had nowhere to go, no money, no job, and I was living in a women’s shelter and expecting. I wanted only good things for him. I just wish Zeke would have let me try to find him.” She laughed a harsh laugh. “Of course, I was so ashamed of what I had to do, I told them I wanted the file sealed. I couldn�
��t find him and he couldn’t find me.”

  “Maybe, if the will is real, we might have money to hire someone to look for Nik,” Cory said carefully.

  Joyce’s fingers clenched Cory’s as her expression hardened. “Don’t, Cory. Don’t even start hoping. Don’t let that McKnight pull you into that. It’s a lie. If it’s from Zeke Smith, and the McKnights are involved, don’t trust it.”

  Cory held her mother’s embittered gaze, heard the fresh anger in her voice and realized her mother was right.

  “I won’t, Mom,” she said.

  “We’ll sit over here,” Joyce said, stopping at an empty pew close to the back of the half full church the following Sunday morning.

  Cory let her mother go in first and sat down, looking around the church.

  She recognized a few people in the congregation from working at the restaurant. During work, she had overheard many conversations and been pulled into some of the men’s discussions on cattle futures and the logging operations. At first, she didn’t know what they were talking about. But lately, she felt at home.

  Sweet Creek, tucked in the Kootenay mountains was a good community, and Cory had hoped she and her mother could find refuge here.

  You don’t need to run anymore.

  The words fell through her mind and shifted her thoughts.

  You don’t need to leave.

  It was over. The wondering, the hesitant friendships she had made with the thought that in a few months, maybe a year, Zeke would find them. And when he did, he would once again begin his program of intimidation until her mother’s stress level would rise and her pain would increase. Their only avenue was escape. She and her mother would have packed again, trying to find a haven. A place Zeke wouldn’t find them.

  Now, all that was over. Finished.

  Cory swallowed a knot of emotion as the information settled in.

  Zeke was irrevocably removed from her life.

  Overcome, she bent her head, pressing her folded hands against her mouth as she sent up a prayer of thanks, unable to articulate her feelings.