Divided Hearts

by Carolyne Aarsen

  A shadow fell across her line of vision and her attention shifted to the man settling into the pew directly in front of her. Broad shoulders, brown wavy hair.

  Matthew.

  She clenched her folded hands in her lap and looked down as her momentary peace fled.

  The fear and anger seeped back, and she was thrown back to Sundays with Zeke, sitting behind the McKnight family in church.

  Why did Matthew have to come? Surely there were other places he could go, other churches he could attend? Did he know they went to church here or was it coincidence?

  And why did he have to sit right here? Right in front of them?

  She wondered for a fleeting moment how long he was staying. Would he not leave until she signed the papers? Was his intention to force her into doing what she instinctively knew was wrong?

  Joyce’s head was still bent. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen Matthew yet.

  Cory didn’t want to look at him, didn’t even want to acknowledge his presence. Yet, like someone afraid of heights, lured against their will to the edge of a high place, she couldn’t resist looking at him.

  He wore a dark-blue suit this time. The cut was impeccable and the color set off the honey tones of his hair. His thick waves were controlled, tamed by a skillful stylist, she presumed. Matthew McKnight would never have to resort to cheap haircuts or inferior tailors.

  Cory forced herself not to finger her own heavy hair, trimmed by her mother when it grew too long, tried not to run her hands over the skirt she had made herself. Around Matthew, she was always far too aware of the difference in their economic circumstances.

  And as always, it bothered her that it bothered her.

  Cory pulled the hymnal from the rack with a force that made her mother look up with a frown. As she did so, Joyce noticed Matthew.

  Cory saw her stiffen, saw her hand press against her chest. Cory touched her mother’s arm in a protective gesture, and in that precise moment, Matthew half turned toward them, glancing at Cory.

  As their eyes met, Cory found she couldn’t look away. His eyes aren’t green, she thought foolishly with an insurgent beat of her heart. They’re more like aqua.

  “Hello, Cory.”

  Cory returned his greeting with a calm that belied the increased tempo of her heart. As she broke the contact, Matthew turned to her mother.

  “Hello, Mrs. Smith.”

  “I go by Luciuk now,” Joyce said firmly, her gaze steady. “My previous married name.”

  “Cory told me that. My apologies for forgetting. How are you doing?”

  “Not well.” Cory heard her mother’s disdainful tone, and in that moment felt vindicated in her own reaction to Matthew.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I would think you’ve done enough, Mr. McKnight.”

  Cory saw a flicker of disquiet cross Matthew’s even features. He nodded once as if acknowledging Joyce’s comment. Then he turned around.

  For a moment, Cory wondered if she imagined what she had seen. Wondered if she was hoping he was more than she had always imagined him to be.

  The service began, and Cory’s thoughts shifted elsewhere.

  She prayed for peace, for patience and understanding. As usual, she prayed for her mother. That somehow, they could find equilibrium in their lives. That her mother’s pain would ease. She hesitated, then prayed for Zeke, the only father she knew. She prayed that she could forgive him, then she prayed for his soul.

  The service flowed on, and slowly Cory got drawn into the pattern of the liturgy, the songs that promised hope and an end to their earthly struggles.

  Each time she looked up, her gaze returned irresolutely to Matthew.

  Against her will, she remembered the first time she saw him. He was standing in the lobby of the courthouse. She didn’t know who he was. He wore jeans and a blazer over a T-shirt, and he looked absolutely ordinary and absolutely arresting. When she came into the lobby, he smiled at her. She smiled coyly back, acknowledging his interest, her sixteen-year-old heart beating just a little quicker. He walked over and said hi. She was surprised someone his age—she guessed he was at least twenty—would be interested in her.

  He made a joke about how court was all about hurrying up and then waiting. She responded with a smart comment about how waiting for slowpokes was the punishment for punctual people. He laughed, and she felt a rush of connection she’d never felt with anyone else before.

  Then Clifton and Zeke had come in, all busy noise and bluster and pulled Matthew in their wake. Clifton took a moment to frown at his son’s attire and Zeke paused to wink at Cory and ignore Joyce. When they settled into their respective sides of the courtroom, the brief moment between Matthew and Cory was shattered beyond redemption.

  She found out afterward that Matthew was Clifton’s son and was working with him. Working with Zeke.

  Cory pulled herself abruptly back to the service, angry that even memories of Matthew could make her mind wander.

  The minister pronounced the firm amen that signaled the end of his sermon.

  The congregation rose for the final song, and as the notes faded away, Cory and her mother walked from the church. She didn’t look back to see if Matthew was behind her.

  Matthew walked through the double doors of the church foyer and into the warm summer sun, working his way through the crowd. As he headed toward his car, he caught himself looking for Cory.

  He broke through the group and there she was, a few feet away.

  He resisted the urge to catch up to her, to talk to her. What would it accomplish, except another glare? He’d had enough of that for a while. They could discuss the will tomorrow.

  The wail of a child broke through the soft morning, and Matthew turned to see a young boy launch himself at Cory.

  “Where’s my mom? I hurt my a-a-arm,” he cried.

  “Where?” Disregarding her skirt, Cory knelt on the pavement and checked his injury.

  “Right here.” The boy twisted his arm around, and Matthew could see a thin trickle of blood from a small scrape.

  “Oh, no,” Cory cried in mock horror, shaking her head. She set her purse down and pulled out a tissue, dabbing the wound. “Press this against it, Chris,” she told him. “I have to get something else.” She reached into her purse again and retrieved a candy that he popped into his mouth. “That’s good strong medicine to help your scrape.”

  Chris frowned, working on the candy. “It’s a peppermint.”

  “Oh, but it’s a special peppermint,” Cory said dabbing the wound with the tissue. Her hair had fallen to one side of her face and her mouth curved in a soft smile, and Matthew was surprised at the difference in her. The hardness he had seen on her face had melted away with concern for this little boy.

  She glanced up at Matthew. Their eyes met, and just as quickly, her startled look was replaced by one of cool detachment. Matthew felt a surge of disappointment at the change. He liked the other Cory much better.

  “Why are they special?” Chris’s question pulled her attention back to him.

  “I—I got them, uh,” she looked at the boy’s arm, “I got them from a store where everyone always smiles.”

  “Ouch. You pressed too hard.”

  “Sorry, honey,” Cory murmured, her head bent.

  Matthew knew he should leave. Cory didn’t want him here, but now that she had seen him, it would be awkward to walk away.

  So he waited.

  “That should do it, Chris,” Cory told the little boy. She stood, brushing her hands with quick, jerky motions.

  “Thanks, Cory. I’m going to find my mom and tell her about your candy.” He turned to Matthew, staring up at him with interest. “Hello. My name is Chris.”

  Matthew smiled at the little boy’s welcome. “I’m Matthew.”

  “You should go now,” Cory said firmly.

  Matthew almost stepped back at the annoyed look Cory gave him.

  Chris
only frowned, then with a shrug that denoted a lack of concern about adult doings, turned and ran away.

  “What do you want?” Cory asked, bending to pick up her purse. She looked at him with her brown eyes flat and her expression neutral. “Why are you following me?”

  “I was just going to my car when I saw you.” He suppressed the defensive tone in his voice. “It seemed rude to keep walking after you noticed me.”

  Cory fiddled with the zipper on her purse. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You startled me.”

  He didn’t know why he should care what she thought of him, but her apology lightened his mood. “Apology accepted,” he said.

  Cory flipped the purse over her shoulder and smiled politely. “I should go. My mom is waiting for me.”

  Matthew racked his mind for something to say to keep her talking to him, but he drew a blank. The only thing they had to discuss was the will. He wasn’t getting anywhere with her about that.

  “Take care, Cory,” he said instead.

  She nodded, her expression enigmatic. Without another word, she left.

  Matthew watched her walk toward her car. The rusted wheel wells showed the car’s age.

  Once again, he wondered why she wouldn’t take Zeke’s money.

  He realized with a twinge of regret that he might never know. In a couple days, he would be gone, and what reason would he have to come back? Especially given her resentment of him.

  Why that thought bothered him, he wasn’t sure, either.

  Chapter Three

  “Come for a walk with me while Mary gets lunch together,” Nathan said to Matthew.

  Matthew worked his way from the clutches of the smothering, overstuffed couch, glad of the reprieve. He had spent the last half hour trying not to get smothered, both by the couch and by Mary’s solicitude.

  Coffee and cake and squares, and more coffee, were constantly being urged on him. Each offer meant a struggle to sit forward to take another square, then a slide back into the plump embrace of the couch.

  Nathan had invited him for lunch and he had gladly accepted. Nathan Stanley was an old friend of the family who had gone to law school with his father. After graduation, he worked for Matthew’s grandfather. Ten years ago, Nathan moved to Sweet Creek to start his own small firm. Clifton and Matthew were both invited, but Clifton’s schedule was full, as it always was. When he had verified Cory’s whereabouts, Matthew figured he could take care of two obligations at once. So he would be representing the McKnight family at the anniversary tomorrow.

  And sticking around to convince Cory to accept Zeke’s very generous bequest.

  The sun shone benevolently down on them as Nathan led Matthew through their yard.

  “Lovely flowers,” Matthew said, noting the colorful displays edging the green grass.

  “It’s taken me a few years, but I finally got the yard the way I like it,” Nathan said with a touch of pride in his voice as he paused to pull out a stray weed.

  “You did this?”

  “Yes. In my spare time.”

  Matthew thought of his parents’ home and the well-manicured yard. It was precise and lovely and well tended; but, a hired gardener took care of it all. His parents seldom even sat in it, let alone walked through it to pull weeds. “You actually have spare time?” Matthew asked.

  Nathan shot him a wry glance. “Not all lawyers spend every waking hour at their office or the courthouse. God gave us many things to appreciate outside of our work.”

  Matthew acknowledged Nathan’s comment with a nod.

  Nathan opened the gate at the back of the yard. “Let’s walk through the park along the river. Mary will be busy for a good half hour yet. It’s not often she gets to feed young men with a healthy appetite.” Nathan slipped his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, whistling through his teeth as he sauntered down a well-worn path toward the river. “I like to walk through this park when I’m feeling stressed,” Nathan said. “Did you know that walking is still the best form of exercise?”

  “That’s why Dad is in such good shape,” Matthew said. “I hate to count how many miles he does going back and forth to the courthouse.”

  “Does your dad still put in those crazy hours?” Nathan asked. “I remember when I worked for your grandfather, your father was always in the office before me and out after me. I believe he even slept there at times.” Nathan shook his head, giving Matthew a considering look. “And now you’re filling your father’s shoes.”

  “Mighty big shoes they are to fill,” Matthew said, stifling a small annoyance at the sardonic tone in Nathan’s voice.

  “Your dad only ever wore a size ten,” laughed Nathan. “Not that big.”

  Matthew smiled at that.

  “He’s just a man, Matthew,” Nathan continued. “A mighty good lawyer, but just a man.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can keep up to that man.”

  Nathan shrugged. “Why try? What have you got to prove?”

  “That I’m at minimum half the man my father is.” The confession came from its own accord. No one had ever questioned the direction of his life. Somehow Nathan’s faint criticism of his father gave him a small out to express the frustration that had been building over the past year. “That I’m worthy to carry on the McKnight tradition.”

  Nathan tilted his head and slanted him a droll look. “How much sleep do you get, carrying on the McKnight tradition?”

  Matthew couldn’t stop the bark of laughter. “I averaged about four hours a night the past month.”

  “That’s insane,” was Nathan’s blunt response.

  Matthew’s sigh acknowledged the truth of Nathan’s comment. “It’s also half of the reason I’m here. My pride made me think I could try, but I couldn’t keep those insane hours up. Decided I needed a break.”

  Nathan stopped at a bench that overlooked the river and sat down, his elbows resting on his knees. “According to your mother, there’s another reason.”

  Matthew lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Mother seems to think I’m pining over Tricia. Which is strange considering I’m the one who broke off the relationship.”

  “Tricia is your ex-girlfriend I take it.”

  “For about a month now. She was a sweet, kind woman. But it’s hard to keep a relationship going on one date a month and minimal time off. So I thought it better if we broke up.”

  He didn’t tell Nathan that the breakup had been a relief. Tricia was, as he said, sweet. But there wasn’t much else to her.

  “It’s no life, son,” Nathan said. “God made us for more than work.”

  “‘All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty.’ Proverbs 14,” Matthew quoted with a smile.

  “‘All his days his work is pain and grief; even at night his mind does not rest. This too is meaningless.’ And that, my son, is from Ecclesiastes. The teacher.” Nathan added. “He goes on to say that it is good for a man to find enjoyment in what he does.” Nathan faced Matthew, his expression serious. “Are you happy in your work?”

  How could he answer that without sounding like he was either criticizing his father or whining about his lot in life? He was making lots of money, he had a condo along the river and an expensive sports car—both paid for. But the success came at a price. He had no time to nurture his relationships.

  “Matthew, I’m one of your father’s oldest friends,” Nathan said, his tone encouraging. “I’m allowed a few indiscreet comments. I’ve known your father since he was a young hotshot lawyer determined to be the brightest and best. I’ve known you since you were a baby. I feel obligated to say that I believe you’re not happy with your lot in life.”

  Matthew laughed shortly. “I don’t know what I have to complain about.”

  “Being too busy, for starters. You look tired, you sound tired. There’s no shame in admitting that you don’t want to be like your dad. Or your grandfather.” Nathan sighed lightly, clasping his hands between his knees. “I went through the sa
me thing. Wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn’t keep up with your dad. But you know what? I think right now, I’m a lot happier than he is. I can’t imagine your dad taking time to do this.”

  Matthew acknowledged the truth of that as he stared out at the spatters of light bouncing on the river. Beyond the flowing ribbon of water lay the mountains, protective and majestic. Sweet Creek was in a beautiful place.

  A young couple strolled by, hand in hand, a baby waving his arms from the carrier on the man’s back. Nathan greeted them by name and they smiled, greeted him as well, then carried on. A few more people rode bikes past them, some waving hello.

  “You seem to know quite a few people here,” Matthew said.

  “It’s a small town. A nice community.”

  Matthew felt a momentary pang of envy. He didn’t have much community in Edmonton. Didn’t have time to nurture friendships, let alone a healthy relationship.

  “You’re right about my dad,” Matthew said finally. “Most holidays, he took his work along to the cabin we had at the lake. My mother would help him. It made things difficult as an only child, me trying to entertain myself.” Matthew laughed. “Now that sounds like whining. I love my parents and I know they care about me. It’s just...”

  “Not the life you want for yourself,” Nathan finished for him. “It’s good that you can admit that.” He got up. “Let’s walk a little more.”

  As they walked along the worn path, they talked about inconsequential things. The weather, life in Sweet Creek, mutual acquaintances. But Matthew felt as if a burden had been eased. Nathan was the first person he had dared speak to about the very thing that had been eating away at him over the past year. He didn’t know how he would work his way around the problem. Lawyers at McKnight and McKnight pulled their load. As the son and grandson, he felt the pressure most keenly.

  “How far does this park go?” Matthew asked as they rounded another corner. The trees were higher here, arching over the path and creating a welcome coolness.

  “It follows the river on this side,” Nathan replied. “It goes all the way to downtown and past that.”