Clifton McKnight.
His gray hair was styled within a hairbreadth of perfection. As with Matthew, the cut of his charcoal gray suit and its crisp lines and expensive fabric showed the cost.
Clifton McKnight paused a moment to look around, then he closed the car door and strode toward the restaurant. For Cory, it was as if time had slipped back as she faced those patrician features.
She swallowed against the constriction in her throat, her palms clammy.
What was he doing here? What did he want?
She took a calming breath then, remembering that his son worked across the street. Of course, she reprimanded herself. He’s come to see Matthew.
But a new wave of nerves attacked her at the thought of meeting Clifton now. Now that she and Matthew had spent time together.
What would Clifton think of her? Would he think she wasn’t good enough for his son? She had always known what Clifton thought of her and her mother. He had never said it directly to them but it was always implied with his haughty looks and dismissive attitude around them each time they were in court. She didn’t imagine that things had changed. Clifton McKnight would want the best for his only son.
The door opened, and Clifton stepped into the restaurant, and it was as if everything slowed, and became centered on him. His presence was always commanding, thought Cory, stepping behind the partition.
She wasn’t hiding, she told herself. She needed a few moments to compose herself. To catch the breath that always left her in his presence.
Clifton sat at the first empty table. He folded his hands on the table, looking around with a neutral expression. From where she stood, Cory could easily see the resemblance between him and Matthew. They had the same level brows, the slightly angled eyes that gave both Clifton and Matthew a languid look.
But where Matthew had charm, Clifton had presence.
Please, Lord, help me through this, she prayed, pressing her hand against her stomach as if to still the flurry of nerves. I have always been afraid of this man.
The door chimes sounded again, and Cory glanced at the door.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of Matthew glancing around the restaurant. She could tell the instant he spotted his father. He stopped where he was, shock on his face. He looked as if he didn’t know his father was supposed to be here.
He paused a moment, smoothed his hand over his unruly hair, straightened his coat, squared his shoulders, and walked over.
Cory wanted to rush to his side. Wanted to drag Matthew from his father, to break the tableau she was witnessing.
Clifton standing, shaking hands with his son, then giving him a quick hug.
Matthew smiled back at his father as they both sat down.
Unfortunately for Cory, seeing father and son together vividly resurrected the feelings of lack of control. Of powerlessness.
She wanted to leave, but they were sitting at her table. She took a long, slow, calming breath and walked toward them, portraying a confidence she didn’t feel. She struggled to bring the present to the moment.
“Hello, Matthew,” she said, then turned to Clifton. “Mr. McKnight.”
“Hi, Cory,” Matthew smiled up at her, then looked across the table to his father. “Dad, I’m sure you remember Cory Smith?” Matthew glanced at her again, then away as he corrected himself. “Sorry. Cory Luciuk. My father just came to town. I…I wasn’t expecting him.”
Matthew seemed uneasy, and Cory wondered if it was his father’s presence.
Clifton gave Cory a curt nod. “I thought I would stop in and of course I remember Cory,” he said. “How are you doing?” His deep voice held a patronizing note that pulled back all the ugly memories she spent the last few years avoiding.
“I’m fine,” she replied, unable to make her voice get any louder than a faint rasp.
“By the way, I’d like to offer my condolences on the death of your stepfather,” Clifton continued.
Her only response was a tight nod. She was on shaky ground and was determined to get back some of the home advantage. “Can I get you some coffee?” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“Yes. That sounds good,” Clifton said. “Coffee for both of us.” Clifton looked at her. “Do you have some time, Cory? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Cory’s heart thudded to a halt, found its beat, then raced. What could Clifton have to tell her that Matthew hadn’t? “I have a coffee break in about ten minutes, but I could take it early,” she said.
Clifton nodded politely.
Cory looked at Matthew, willing him to glance up at her again, to give her any hint of what his father wanted. Matthew’s shock at seeing his father told her this wasn’t arranged. So again, what was Clifton doing here?
She wanted him to smile at her and tell her that everything was all right. More than ever, in the presence of his father and the past, she needed assurance that he was the same Matthew who had called her last night and had teased and laughed with her.
But sitting across from his father, he could barely acknowledge her presence. It was as if he were ashamed of her. Swallowing down a building knot of sorrow and apprehension, she turned, got the coffee, and quickly returned.
Without saying a word, she poured them each a cup, her cheeks hot with shame and confusion. How was she supposed to sit and calmly discuss whatever Clifton wanted to talk about?
She brought the coffeepot back and grabbed the edge of the counter, her eyes shut tight.
All she could manage was a quick prayer.
She didn’t want to go back; instead, she wanted to run away. Again.
But practicality and the reality of her life intervened. Zeke was gone, and she didn’t need to run anymore. Smoothing down her hair and sucking in a quick breath, she turned, lifted her head, and walked back to the table.
Matthew looked up as she came closer, his expression guarded.
Ignoring him, Cory sat in the chair across from Clifton, matching his level gaze, stare for stare.
“You wished to talk to me,” she said, her voice steady and not betraying the emotions twisting beneath the facade of calm.
Clifton gave Matthew a sharp look, then glanced back at Cory. “I’m presuming Matthew told you about the problem we had with Zeke’s will.”
Cory shook her head, puzzled.
He wouldn’t look at her, and an ominous pounding began in her head.
Clifton cleared his throat and pushed his coffee cup aside, resting his forearms on the table. “I thought the will would be probated quickly. I was wrong. I hadn’t seen Zeke for a while before his death and in that time, he apparently was living with another woman.”
Clifton paused, his head tilting to one side, his expression softening as he continued. “In that period, he drew up another will. It’s what we call a holograph will. Handwritten will. It was witnessed, signed, and dated. In it, Zeke left his estate to this woman.”
Icy fingers gripped her forehead and hands. She almost swayed off her chair but caught the table. Don’t let them see, she thought, reverting to what she called her court survival techniques. Don’t let them know how they’ve gotten to you. Don’t let them think they’ve won.
“What does that mean for me?” Thankfully, her voice came out calm and quiet.
“It could mean that the will in which you were named chief beneficiary could be declared invalid.”
Matthew rested his hand on her arm, but she jerked it back as Clifton’s words registered. Zeke hadn’t left her anything after all. Another wrapped-up box that was empty. Like always.
How long had Matthew known about this other will? How long had he kept this information to himself? Why didn’t he prepare her? Tell her?
“What are you going to do?” she asked Clifton, her voice portraying a calm she didn’t feel.
“We can fight it. The will was handwritten. We could debate the soundness of his mind at the time, whether he actually wrote the will or not. There’s a number of angles we
could take.”
“How would I pay for this?”
“Any legitimate challenges to the estate would be drawn from the estate itself.”
Cory absorbed this for a moment, then threw Clifton a wary look as she said, “The longer the fight goes on, the higher the lawyers’ bills. A challenge could conceivably drain the estate until there is nothing left to fight over, right?”
“You’re very astute,” Clifton said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “That is a possibility. Sometimes both parties can agree to a fair and equitable distribution before that happens.”
“Do you think that can happen?”
Clifton was quiet a moment, then looked her straight in the eye. “No. The other woman wants her full share of the estate.”
Cory let the words register as her eyes slid away from his. Then, slowly, the old familiar anger ignited deep within her. Zeke had betrayed her once again. And Matthew had encouraged her to put herself in this position. He hadn’t told her the truth.
“Why am I not surprised,” she snapped, shoving her chair back and getting to her feet. “I never wanted anything from Zeke from the first. I didn’t trust him, and I was right not to.”
Without looking at Matthew, she strode away, ignoring his calls to wait.
She ducked around a partition and yanked off her apron. Matthew caught up to her just before she reached the back door out of the restaurant.
“Cory, please listen to me.”
She turned to him, her anger now white-hot, the sting of Zeke’s treachery sharp in its familiarity. “No. You listen to me. I told you I didn’t want anything from that stupid will in the first place. You told me to sign it, told me that maybe Zeke wanted to make things up to me. If I hadn’t conceded, I would have never ended up feeling like this again. Like maybe, somehow he wanted...wanted...he was making up for...” To her shame, her voice broke off.
“Cory, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand as if to touch her, but she moved away from him.
“You said it would be different.” She lashed out, part of her crying out to stop, but she couldn’t. It was too familiar. The pain, the betrayal. The lies. “All my life, I’ve wanted a father, someone who would love me. He was the only father I ever knew. And he hated me.”
Tears filled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop now. She had let down too many barriers with Matthew and couldn’t hold back what she had to say.
“Do you know what it’s like to live with someone who wants only to hurt you, and all you want is someone to love you?” She stopped, shaking her head, glancing over his shoulder at his father. “Of course you don’t. Your father only wanted the best for you, gave you everything you ever needed or wanted. All I ever wanted from Zeke was some expression of love. Some way of knowing I was important to him. That I mattered. But I didn’t, so I spent years building up my defenses against him. Years. In just a few weeks, you helped me break them down.” She stared at Matthew, unaware of the tears coursing down her cheeks, angry that he had managed, by saying nothing, to make her expose her deepest fears, her deepest secret.
That despite how awful Zeke had been to her, part of her yearned for what he might have given her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached for her again, but she couldn’t bear to have him touch her.
“Leave me alone, McKnight. You were his lawyer, but I thought you were my friend.” With another sob, she turned and ran from the door.
Once outside, she ran, unsure of where she was going, only knowing she had to get away from Matthew and the memories.
She didn’t stop until she got to the river.
Panting with exertion, she leaned against a tree. Thoughts and memories whirled, converging until she couldn’t control herself. She buried her face in her hands and wept angry, bitter tears, her shoulders shaking with the strength of her sorrow.
When the worst storm had passed, she wiped her eyes, laying her head back against the rough bark of the tree and wondering how she could have been so stupid.
Just a few days ago, she had foolishly told Matthew that she believed God had brought them to this place. That her life had reached some kind of happy ending, thanks to the will. What a sap she had been. It was all a lie. Zeke had once again hurt her. Betrayed her.
And Matthew knew all along.
Had he known when he came to Sweet Creek? Had he used the will as some kind of bargaining chip to get close to her? Was everything he told her a lie?
Was he as manipulative as Zeke was? He was a man, wasn’t he? Once he had defended her stepfather, believed him.
Matthew told her he believed her.
Was that more lies?
Questions came from all angles, voicing all the doubts she had quenched because she believed his words. Had fallen for his charm, just as her mother warned her against.
Sliding against the tree, she lowered herself to the ground. Objections and suspicions all spun through her head, unable to find a coherent center; pain and anger twisted her stomach.
She wanted to pray, but every time she started, the only line that would come to her was, “Our Father...”
As she had told Matthew, she had never received love from a father. Now even God was in on the joke on her.
She had asked for all this, she thought. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her face against them. She who knew better, had gone against judgment that had been hard won through many confrontations with Zeke Smith.
No one else had been the dupe but her.
She squeezed her eyes shut as another sob shook her. Foolish, foolish woman. What have you done and what have you done to your mother?
Cory allowed herself the questions, the anger, and the sorrow. She let it all roll over her. Then, wiping away the tears from her cheeks, she opened her eyes.
The trees covered the sky like a canopy overhead. Through their green leaves, the sun filtered. A curious squirrel chirped from a branch, then scampered away.
“Life goes on,” Cory muttered. “It just keeps on going. Nothing has changed.”
Nothing except the hopes she had allowed herself to nurture. The dreams that rose from a box she never dared open. The last few weeks, she had let them out, and she had nurtured hope for her and her mother.
And now?
She forced away the disappointment that had always defined her relationship with Zeke. The pain of his one last betrayal.
Keep going. Keep moving. Do the next thing.
The words she had repeated all these years returned. That’s what she had to do. Keep going. Where to go, she wasn’t sure, but she had to keep doing what came next.
And what about Matthew?
Wasn’t love supposed to be built on trust? How could she trust him now? Her heart contracted as she thought of him. She didn’t know what to do.
“I take it you hadn’t told her about the other will yet,” Clifton said when Matthew returned.
“No. But you could have told me you were coming. That you were going to bring up the will.” He was fighting with a mixture of anger with his father at dropping the news so unexpectedly and fear of what Cory was now thinking.
“No, I hadn’t,” Matthew said heavily, dropping into the chair. He wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing in letting Cory leave the restaurant, as upset as she was, but he was afraid of what would happen if he went after her.
She didn’t trust him anymore.
What a mess he had made of this by waiting. By selfishly thinking they needed more time together before telling her everything.
“Why hadn’t you told her?”
Matthew resented his father’s probing. Mostly because he knew he had been wrong. “I wanted to wait for the right time,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I didn’t think you’d come swooping into town to do that for me.” He massaged his forehead with his fingers as he remembered what she had said about wanting a father’s love. His heart twisted at the memory. She had grown up with so much pain and disappointment. Now, she was in that posit
ion again.
“I was passing through. Thought I would stop in.”
Matthew couldn’t imagine where his father would be going that he would be ‘passing through’ Sweet Creek. It wasn’t on the way to any place important.
So he guessed his father was checking in on him. He kept his thoughts to himself as his father sipped his coffee.
“Cory seems as strong willed and emotional as ever,” his father said finally. Matthew checked to see if he was joking, but Clifton looked dead serious.
“She’s had a lot to be emotional about,” Matthew said flatly. “Cory told me her side of the living-with-Zeke-Smith story.” Matthew held his father’s gaze, his own steady. “Zeke was a manipulative fraud, Dad. Cory was a means to an end for him, and the end was to win against Joyce. Which he did, thanks to us. And now, thanks to us—thanks to me,” he corrected, “she allowed herself to be beaten by him again.”
“It was an unforeseen error,” Clifton said, frowning his disagreement. “There was no way we could have known about that will. You approached her in good faith.”
“I don’t think that holograph will was so unforeseen,” Matthew snapped. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he set the whole thing up.” In succinct words and sparing no details, he told his father what Cory had told him.
“We were fooled by him,” Matthew said finally. “Both of us. Cory and Joyce have to pay a high price for that.”
Clifton sat back, his expression betraying his incredulity. “This is the very thing we fought in court—her words against Zeke’s. I had known Zeke for years. We went golfing together, spent time together. He always talked about Cory. About how much he cared for her and how sad she made him when she didn’t want to visit with him...” He rested his head on his fingertips, confusion threading through his voice as it trailed off. “This other will has to be a fraud. Besides, how do you know she’s right about Zeke?”
“Because I feel in my heart that she’s right.” Matthew plunged his hands through his hair. “I would think this last little business with the will would be enough to convince both of us that she told me the truth. Now she’s out there somewhere, hating me, you, and Zeke. We’re all one package to her, and it rips me apart to have her think I’m anything like that man.”
Divided Hearts Page 16