Divided Hearts

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Matthew watched her go, his emotions in a turmoil.

  If she didn’t accept what she meant to him, he sensed his own life would never be the same.

  Cory drove home, tears blurring her vision. How was she supposed to act around Matthew now? He had held her, kissed her, asked her forgiveness. No man had ever done that.

  As she drove, she reached up, touching her lips with her fingers as if to relive the kiss they had shared.

  It was just a kiss—just the kiss of a man who felt guilty, as way of making up for things that had gone so horribly wrong.

  Yet she knew it was more than a kiss, because Matthew was more than just a man; he had been her nemesis and the first man she had been attracted to. He was a man who created a confusion of emotions she had never reconciled. Even as Matthew had been condemning her to spending the weekends with Zeke, fighting her lawyer to assert Zeke’s rights, she herself had fought her own attraction to him.

  Now, his few words dismantled the one barrier between them. He had admitted what he had done was wrong and had acknowledged the pain Zeke had inflicted.

  I wish things could have been different. From the start.

  She remembered what he said about admiring her at prom. The evening she had associated with one of her greatest humiliations had been turned around, changed, and renewed.

  She pulled up in front of her home, got out of the car, and stepped into the now quiet house. A small light burned on the porch, and the light above the stove was lit. Cory checked on her mother, who lay fast asleep.

  Relieved, she walked to her own bedroom, changed, and then got into bed. She knew she couldn’t sleep. Too much was roiling through her head. Matthew had asked her to forgive him. She needed to sort that out.

  “Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

  The passage from Luke resonated through her mind. She knew she had done many things that required forgiving. Could she think that anything he had done was worse than many of the things she had done to others? To God? Could she stand innocent before anyone and claim that she had never done wrong, had never hurt anyone, had never caused pain and tears?

  She covered her face with her hands, entreating the Lord to forgive her unforgiving heart. As you forgave me, help me to forgive, Lord, she prayed. Help me to forgive.

  As she prayed, it was as if a burden slowly slipped from her shoulders. She didn’t have to fight what she felt for Matthew. It wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t betraying her mother or herself. Or God.

  Then, following behind that, came a rush of love so profound, so pure that it almost made her laugh aloud. Free, she was finally free of anger, of hate.

  Of Zeke Smith.

  Matthew stood by the window of his office, staring unseeing at the trees outside. He had been in another town all morning, sitting in on an environmental hearing for one of Nathan’s clients. When he had returned, he stopped at the restaurant, eager to see Cory, only to find out that she had called in to say she wasn’t working today. He felt it would be rather presumptuous to call her, so he hadn’t.

  He wanted to talk to her, to go over what she had told him last night. Some of what she said wasn’t new, but most of it went against all his own perceptions of Zeke.

  He had never seen the side of Zeke Smith that Cory spoke of. Had never been on the receiving end of his anger. For him and his father, Zeke gave only the best, the most charming performance.

  He hated to think that he had been duped by Zeke. He liked to feel that he was a decent judge of character. But now?

  Was he thinking of his pride more than Cory?

  He dropped his head against the cool glass. He hadn’t slept for more than a couple hours last night. Over and over, he relived what Cory told him and what had happened between them.

  The computerized beeping of the phone broke into Matthew’s reverie.

  He snagged the receiver, tucking it under his chin.

  “Matthew McKnight here.”

  “Hello, son. How are you?”

  “Hi, Dad.” Matthew dropped into his chair and pulled a pen from its holder, catching himself glancing at the clock on the wall. A lawyer’s habit. Check the time, bill the file. He put the pen down. “What can I do for you?”

  His father’s heavy sigh was uncharacteristic, as was the slight pause. Was his father going to tell him some bad news about his marriage? Or maybe give him the when-are-you-coming-home lecture he had been doling out lately.

  Matthew braced himself for either, but was ready to defend his time here in Sweet Creek. He liked the low-key atmosphere in the office, and if he were pushed, he would have to admit that right now, he could stay. For an indefinite period of time. The questions around his parent’s marriage only underlined his desire to stay here.

  Much of that decision, unfortunately, hinged on Cory.

  “An unfortunate turn of events just came up with Zeke’s will,” Clifton said.

  Matthew sagged back in his chair, his brain shifting gears as his father kept talking. Not his parent’s relationship nor a nag about working here.

  “I had a woman come into the office yesterday afternoon,” he continued, “with what she claimed was a handwritten copy of the last will and testament of Zeke Smith.”

  “A holograph will?” Matthew’s heart jerked as his mind raced over the implications for Cory.

  “Appears that way.”

  “Are you sure she’s on the level?” Matthew asked, fiddling with the papers on his desk.

  “She handed me the paper, and I checked the handwriting against other notes from Zeke I had on file,” Clifton said. “Unfortunately, at first glance, it appears legitimate.”

  Matthew shoved the file folder aside, spun his chair to glare out the window. “You’re fighting this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice clipped.

  “Of course I am.”

  “I practically guaranteed Cory that the will I showed her was legitimate, that there would be no hindrances.”

  “It’s okay, son. I’m not letting this go. We’ll resolve it.”

  Matthew shoved his hand through his hair, wondering how Cory would react to this piece of information. Wondering how it would impact their very fragile relationship, if, indeed, he dared call it that. If she found out about this new will, her precarious emotions would veer the wrong way.

  An image of Cory as a young girl, clutching a doll, going to the cash register, and then having her dreams dashed came into his mind.

  Zeke had done the same thing now. It was as if, from the grave, he had to give one final twist to the knife.

  As Matthew analyzed this thought, he realized that any doubts he might have had about Zeke were once and for all dissipated.

  “Even if we fight it, the proceeds will have to come from the estate,” Matthew said heavily.

  “I know. I’m hoping to expedite this as quickly as possible.”

  “What’s the date on the holograph will?”

  “A year ago. The will I filed for Zeke is, unfortunately, four years old.”

  “How come we haven’t heard of her before?”

  “That’s one of my concerns, however I hadn’t been in contact with Zeke for the past two years. Anything could have happened in that time.”

  Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. And a heartache. How was he going to tell Cory?

  Why tell her at all?

  The thought was tantalizing.

  If this woman’s claim was legitimate, it would come out sooner or later. But if it wasn’t, would Matthew be causing her unnecessary pain by saying anything?

  “Matthew, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Matthew answered. “I’m okay. Keep me posted. If there’s anything I can do on this end, let me know.” Matthew said goodbye and dropped the phone in the cradle. He dropped his head back and dragged his hands over his face. He could have done without this particular mess.

  He turned back to the desk, wondering how he could concentrate on his work for the rest of the d
ay. It was only three o’clock. In a couple of hours, he had to head to ball practice.

  And Cory.

  His heart quickened at the thought, and he knew for now, he would not tell her about the will. He would wait and see what feat of lawyering his dad could pull off to head off this disaster.

  There was no way they could have foreseen another will, but he was sure she was going to feel the sting of betrayal.

  Matthew was the one who put her in that position. Had made her, once again, vulnerable to Zeke Smith. A wave of inexpressible anger flowed through him. He thought of Cory at the mercy of this man. How could he and his father have been so wrong?

  A slight knock at the door made him look up. It was Nathan.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Matthew said, getting up and pulling a chair out for him. “This is your place, after all.”

  Nathan shrugged as he sat down in the chair. “My building. Your office.” He leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. “You’ve been here a few weeks now. I just thought I’d see how things are going.”

  Matthew smiled, glad for the momentary reprieve from his circling thoughts. “They’re going well. I like the work. There’s more variety than I thought there would be in a small town.”

  “We have our marital intrigues and wheelers and dealers just like anywhere there are people,” Nathan said with a grin. “By the way, I got a compliment from Freda and Douglas Harper on the incorporation you handled for their company. They are quite pleased with some of the advice you gave them. I have to confess, I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

  “It wasn’t difficult. Something I had done for another client back in Edmonton,” Matthew said casually, shrugging the compliment away, even though it made him feel good. Too often in his work in his father’s office it was complaints he heard—never, to his knowledge, compliments.

  “You’re a lot more relaxed than you were when you first came,” Nathan added. “I think this town agrees with you.”

  “I like it here,” he agreed, toying with his pen. “I like the pace of the work.”

  “Having the restaurant just across the road is very convenient for a bachelor like you. That Cory is such a fun waitress.”

  Matthew hoped his expression hadn’t changed, but he couldn’t stop the silly quickening of his heart at her name. He didn’t reply.

  “I understand you went out for supper last night with her.”

  “Really? You know this?”

  “Yes. At the Eastbar Steakhouse.”

  Matthew shook his head, unable to stop the smile that teased his mouth. “And what did we order?”

  “Oh, come now. Even in Sweet Creek, we recognize that some things are private.” Nathan smiled again. “Actually, I was at the restaurant myself. Cory asked me to tell you she wouldn’t be coming to practice tonight.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Nope. Just wouldn’t be able to come.”

  Matthew acknowledged the information, chewing his lip. Was she avoiding him? Had he pushed things too hard last night? “Thanks, Nathan,” he said, distracted by his thoughts.

  “If you want to know, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you stopped by her house later.” Nathan smirked, a man in the know.

  Matthew laughed lightly. “I don’t even know where she lives.”

  “West of Main Street, across from the feed mill.”

  “How do you know?”

  “No secrets in Sweet Creek. Remember?” Nathan stood up and stretched. “Well, I’m done for the day. Don’t stay too long.” He held Matthew’s gaze. “And check up on Cory. She might just be sick, you know.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “I’ll send you the bill.” Nathan closed the door behind himself.

  Matthew grabbed the file he had shoved away, flipped a few pages, and picked up his pen to finish. But he couldn’t concentrate. He wondered if Cory was sick as Nathan had intimated. Or if she was avoiding him.

  He thought of their kiss. How she had drifted into his embrace.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of her. What he dared think.

  Chapter Ten

  Cory dropped onto the couch and swung her feet up. She felt drained and exhausted, but at least her mother was sleeping for now.

  She glanced at the clock. Only five-thirty. She should get up and make something to eat, but it seemed pointless for just one person.

  For now, all she wanted to do was sleep. She had laundry to fold and a few shirts to iron, but she was too tired. Just a few moments, she promised herself, curling up. Then she could get at the rest of the work.

  She closed her eyes, but when she did, she saw and felt the same thing she had all day: Matthew’s head bending toward her, his soft lips touching hers.

  She hugged herself, a yearning shivering through her. Last night she had come to a turning point, a realization that her feelings for Matthew were real, true, and above all, allowed. She had looked forward with a child’s anticipation to the day, to seeing Matthew in the restaurant.

  This morning, it had been almost agonizing to find that her mother had the flu and that Cory needed to stay home.

  She closed her eyes, easily summoning Matthew’s features. Then, with the memory of his sea-green eyes holding hers, she drifted away from the reality of a sick mother and the tangle of her own bemused thoughts into a place full of warmth, security, and love.

  Matthew’s arms.

  “Cory? Cory? Hello?”

  Woven through the dream was the sound of his voice. Concerned, curious.

  The voice grew louder, interspersed with the sound of knocking. She struggled to separate it from her dreams. Was someone here? She heard the sound of a door close in the front hallway, and she fought to open her eyes, to wake up.

  Slowly she sat up, looking around the room suffused with early evening light. Had she been dreaming? Was she still?

  “Cory, can I come in? Is everything okay?”

  Her heart tripped, then started up again, faster than before as she realized she was wide-awake and that she recognized the voice.

  It was Matthew.

  She ran her hands over her unruly hair, loosened from its ponytail, tucked her T-shirt back into her faded blue jeans, then got up.

  “Come in,” she said, clearing a throat still thick with sleep. As she spoke, she heard the faint click of the door opening and saw a shadow enter the front hall.

  Then Matthew stood in the doorway of the living room. He wore the same baggy T-shirt he had the first time they had coached together, the same faded and worn blue jeans. His hair was wind-tossed, and he looked concerned.

  “Hi, there,” he said. “I missed you at ball practice.”

  Cory fought to pull herself together, to think coherently. “I left a message with Nathan. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He did.” Matthew’s eyes held hers. “You weren’t at the restaurant, either.”

  Her heart gave a little jump at the thought that he had gone looking for her, had missed her.

  “My mom has the flu, so I had to stay home to help her.” She couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt to straighten it. She felt unkempt and unready to meet him.

  “And you’re okay?” Matthew asked, his eyes searching her face, as if looking for evidence.

  “I’m just tired.”

  His smile sent a shiver of warmth through her as he took a step nearer. “Did you have supper?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve been too busy.” Why was she talking about such prosaic things when the man who had lingered in her dreams, who had taken up so much of her emotions the past few days was standing in her home?

  “Do you want me to get you something?” he asked.

  “No, no. That’s okay. I’m not hungry.” She didn’t want him going through their kitchen. Bad enough he was in their house, could see where and how they lived. She glanced behind her at the couch she had lain on. It still held the
imprint of her body, it sagged so badly. “I can make you a cup of tea or coffee, though,” she said, turning her attention back to him.

  “Tea sounds good. I drank too much coffee already.” He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans, rocking back on the heels of his running shoes. “You sure you don’t want any help? I know how to boil water.”

  “I’m sure.” She retreated to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and pulled out a package of cookies, keeping herself busy while she sensed him wandering around the living room. She tried not to let herself see their home through his eyes. It was plain, worn, and veering on shabby.

  She didn’t want to feel ashamed around him anymore. He now knew more of her story and would understand.

  The water boiled. She made tea and placed it on a tray with her best mugs. Then, taking a deep breath and sending up another prayer for courage, she walked into the living room.

  Matthew turned as she entered the small room. He was looking at a group of her school pictures.

  “Quite a metamorphosis,” he said with a teasing grin.

  Cory groaned as she set the tray down on the low coffee table. “Mom insisted on not only buying my school picture every year, she also hangs them up in every one of our homes.”

  She set out the cups, the sugar, and the plate then glanced up at him, discomfited to find him looking at her, his expression suddenly serious.

  “How often did you and your mother move?”

  Cory held the tray in front of her, like a shield. She heard a tone of sorrow in his voice, suffused with regret. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Matthew,” she said. “I want you to know that.”

  “Please tell me.”

  Cory bit her lip and then shook her head. “That’s all in the past. Zeke Smith doesn’t have a hold over me or my mother anymore.” She laughed lightly. “And now, thanks to his will, I can afford to make a few plans.” She smiled at him, wondering why he wasn’t smiling back. “It doesn’t matter how often or where,” she continued. “I will tell you, though, we’ve been through a lot of furniture.”

  She wanted to let him know their present situation didn’t result from poor money management, but extenuating circumstances.