Fences: Smith Mountain Lake Series - Book Three

by Inglath Cooper

  It wasn’t so long ago that I could feel Kala’s love every time she looked at me.

  Had I taken it for granted? I want to say no, of course not, but I think I did in the way we do with anything we value that hasn’t been threatened. Kala had loved her daddy in the same way, and I can only imagine how a child her age reasons a father’s deliberate choice to leave his life.

  I want to talk about this with her, begin the complicated unraveling of the choking strands of Kala’s grief. I want to. But I cannot push a single word past my lips. I don’t know how.

  As soon as we pull up to the house at Stone Meadow, Kala jumps out of the car and runs inside. Feeling a new weight on my shoulders, I want only to reach the solitude of my own room where I can try to make sense of what has happened this morning. Chart a path for moving forward.

  But that isn’t to be. Judith appears in the foyer just as I walk inside the door. The look of irritation on her face tells me she’s been waiting for us.

  “Why isn’t Kala in school today?” she snaps.

  It’s impossible not to be offended by Judith’s high-handed manner, but I force an even note to my voice when I say, “She’s not feeling well.”

  “Lucille said you couldn’t find her this morning.”

  “It was just a misunderstanding,” I say.

  “I will not have you lying to my face, Jillian,” Judith says, arms crossed in righteous indignation.

  It’s certainly not the first time Judith has spoken to me this way. But I find myself unable to ignore it this morning. “As mother and daughter, we have a right to some amount of privacy. What is going on between Kala and me is none of your business.”

  Shock whitens her face. “Certainly, you don’t think I’m going to accept your speaking to me in that tone of voice.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s a one-way street, isn’t it?”

  “Jillian!”

  I realize I have shocked her, and, to be honest, I’m not sure where this sudden barrage of courage is coming from. Like a wave flooding in from the ocean, anger catches me in its current, and I have no ability to turn it back. “Kala ran away from this house last night, and you’ll notice I did not call it this home, because it certainly is not that for her.”

  “What do you mean?” Judith asks, her eyebrows rising in outrage.

  “You criticize her constantly. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her self-confidence?”

  Judith’s indignant huff precedes, “I hardly think I am responsible for the way Kala sees herself. Perhaps if she would keep her hands out of the cookie jar every afternoon, she might like what she sees in the mirror a little more.”

  My hand itches to smack her judgmental face. I shake my head, words eluding me. I finally manage an incredulous, “Do you not remember what it felt like to be a young girl? Judith, your opinion matters to her.”

  She shrugs, as if I’ve stated something ridiculously obvious.

  “And that is why I am trying to teach her how a young woman who cares about her looks should eat.”

  “Is that all that matters to you about Kala? She’s your granddaughter. Your son’s daughter.”

  Judith stares at me through narrow eyes, and I wonder, not for the first time, if this is something she questions. When Jeffrey first told her of his intent to marry me, her response had been to ask if I was pregnant. I wasn’t at the time, but Kala was born less than a year after we got married, and I think maybe Kala’s birth had dashed all her hopes that Jeffrey and I would be short-lived. Sometimes, I wonder if she might have been right to consider it a possibility. Kala had been a surprise, permanently putting to rest any doubts I’d had about the wisdom of marrying Jeffrey.

  As if she’s read my thoughts, Judith says, “Kala is nothing like my son. Jeffrey had a very disciplined nature.”

  The words cut like the knife they are intended to be. I could strike back with any number of hurtful reminders of the character qualities that had eventually ruled Jeffrey’s choices.

  But I stop myself. What good would it do? It is suddenly perfectly clear to me that I no longer belong here. My daughters no longer belong here.

  Whatever fear I’ve been holding onto, worry that I won’t be able to make it on my own, awareness that Jeffrey left no will to ensure that his daughters or I would be taken care of should we leave Stone Meadow, all of it rolls away from me like floodwaters bursting free of the dam.

  I’m not scared anymore. Not of starting over. Starting over is far less frightening than letting my daughters grow up to be shaped by Judith’s constant criticism and bitterness.

  Without saying another word, I walk through the foyer and start up the stairs.

  “Come back here, Jillian,” Judith demands in outrage. “We are not finished.”

  “Yes,” I call back, without turning to look at her. “We are finished, Judith. Permanently.”

  37

  Jillie

  KALA IS UPSTAIRS curled into a ball on her bed when I walk into the room. From her doorway, I call her name.

  “What?” she mumbles, her head beneath her pillow.

  “Pack a suitcase,” I say. “We’re leaving.”

  “What?” she asks, bolting up to stare at me with wide eyes. “What do you mean leaving?”

  “It’s time, honey. Don’t you think?”

  I know it’s what she’s wanted, but now that the choice is in front of her, I can see fear of the unknown pulling rank. “Where will we go?”

  I don’t think I even knew the answer until just now when my daughter so obviously needs to know I haven’t lost my mind. “Mr. Callahan has offered me a job. I’m going to take it.”

  “But where will we live?”

  “At Cross Country. In the house where I grew up.”

  “Really?” Kala asks, a smile of hope breaking across her face.

  Seeing it, I have absolutely no doubt that I’ve made the right decision.

  38

  Tate

  THE BEAGLE DOESN’T leave my side for the next couple of hours.

  Since we’ve both decided he’s staying, I make an afternoon appointment with the vet in town to get him checked out. On the drive in, he sits on the passenger seat next to me, looking at the road ahead with keen interest and maybe a little worry.

  I reach across and rub his head, thinking the name Audie suits him. I remember reading once that it means old friend, and as he thumps his tail against the seat, I think we’ll be that to each other.

  Dr. Wendover, the vet, is an older man who retired to the lake area, but decided he missed his patients too much not to go to work every day. I admire his connection to Audie and his obvious appreciation for the fact that I have decided to give him a home.

  He gives Audie a full workup, announcing that he’s already been neutered and just needs an update on his vaccines. We get the first of those while we’re there, and to Audie’s visible relief, head for the car.

  I make a stop at the grocery store, deciding to risk the store manager’s disapproval rather than leave Audie in the car. He trots in next to me with his tail high, as if food shopping is a regular thing for him.

  I load up the cart with enough food to stock the refrigerator, debating over the best brand to get Audie. As it turns out, he gets a lot of attention in the store, but no complaints. I roll the groceries out to the car, Audie leading the way.

  It’s almost four o’clock when we head back down the rutted driveway of Cross Country.

  The moment I spot Jillie’s car parked at the front of the house, my heart kicks hard, and I wonder if something has happened with Kala. Audie stands in the seat, wagging his tail as we approach, clearly recognizing the vehicle from earlier.

  As soon as I pull up beside Jillie’s car, I see that she has both daughters with her. I turn the Porsche off and get out, Audie leaping out behind me.

  Jillie opens the door and slides out, walking around to meet me, her gaze not quite even with mine.

  “Hey,” I say.

>   “Hey,” she says back.

  “Everything all right?” I ask, glancing at the girls.

  She doesn’t answer immediately, folding her arms across her chest and looking as if she doesn’t know how to get the words out. “That offer you made this morning . . .”

  “About turning this place into a horse farm again?”

  She nods, still not actually looking at me. “Is that offer still good?”

  “It is,” I say.

  “And the house I grew up in. Could the girls and I stay there for a while?”

  “What happened, Jillie?”

  “It’s time we made another life for ourselves,” she says, kicking a sandal against the pea gravel of the driveway. “I don’t know why it took me so long to admit it. I just need a little time to figure things out.”

  “You and the girls can stay in the main house,” I say. “I’ll take the little house.”

  “No,” she shoots back immediately. “The little house is all we need. I won’t have it any other way.”

  “Jillie—”

  “I mean it, Tate. I’m asking enough of you already.”

  “Would it matter if I told you I don’t see it that way?”

  “No,” she says. “If we can’t stay in the little house, I’ll have to find somewhere else—”

  “You’re as stubborn as you always were,” I concede, realizing the last thing I want is for her to leave. “The little house it is.”

  “Thank you. I mean it. And I’ll find another place soon.”

  “It’s yours for as long as you want it,” I say.

  Jillie glances at her car and waves for the girls to come out. They walk over to where we’re standing, Kala looking nearly giddy with happiness, Corey reserved and shy.

  Audie goes right to Kala, wagging his tail so hard I think he might be in danger of falling over. She drops down onto her knees and gives him a hug, and I can see she’s glad he’s still here.

  Jillie puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “Corey, this is Mr. Callahan. We’re going to be staying here for a while.”

  I drop down in front of her, sticking out my hand and saying, “It sure is a pleasure to meet you, Corey.”

  She glances up at Jillie, then reluctantly sticks her hand out to shake mine.

  “We have a house,” she says, glancing back at Jillie again. “Why do we need to stay here?”

  “I hear you like horses,” I say.

  She looks at me suspiciously, and then, “Yeah. Why?”

  “I’d like to turn this place into a horse farm again, and your mom’s agreed to help me do it.”

  “Really?” she asks, interested despite an obvious desire not to be.

  “I hear you’re a good rider too.”

  “Not as good as Kala.”

  “I started before you,” Kala says, and I admire the way she stands up for Corey.

  “I feel sure both of you will be a real help in getting this place back in shape.”

  Corey’s expression has brightened considerably. She slips her hand in Jillie’s and says, “That sounds fun.”

  Jillie pulls her up close and says, “It will be.”

  Jillie’s smile might convince her daughters, but it doesn’t fool me. I see her apprehension, her fear that she has done the wrong thing in leaving the Taylor house. I decide then and there to prove her wrong.

  39

  Jillie

  IT DOESN’T TAKE long to bring the few suitcases we brought with us inside the house. Tate insists on helping. I step through the front door first, a little stunned to see that it looks much the same as it had when I’d lived here with my dad years ago.

  The sofa has been replaced, but the dining room table is the same, along with the remaining pieces of furniture scattered about. Some of them have been moved, as if someone considered taking them from the house but then changed their mind.

  A sob strikes me in the chest, taking me by such surprise that I actually bend into it.

  Tate reaches for my arm, turning me to face him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say, feeling suddenly ridiculous. “I . . . it’s been a long time.”

  “Jillie, I’m happy for all of you to stay at the other house.”

  I shake my head and force a smile. “I think it’s just been a long day.”

  “How about I make dinner for us all?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Tate,” I start to protest.

  “I’d like to. And besides, we can start talking up a plan for the place.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Just don’t expect a Michelin Guide rating.”

  “What does that mean?” Corey asks.

  “It means we might be better off ordering pizza, but I’ll give it my best shot,” Tate says.

  Corey giggles, and it’s nice to hear the sound.

  Tate looks at me. “Six-thirty sound good?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Can I bring anything?”

  “Audie and I have it under control. See you in a couple of hours.”

  As he lets himself out the door and heads across the yard to the big house, I’m struck with the realization that for the first time in a very long while, I feel happy to be exactly where I am.

  40

  Angela

  WHEN SOMETHING YOU’VE wanted actually happens, and it seems too good to be true, it’s hard not to be suspicious.

  Angela still can’t quite believe they’re gone.

  Her mother had made the announcement over dinner as if she were relaying some inconsequential gossip about a neighbor they didn’t know very well.

  “What do you mean they’re gone?” Angela had asked, holding her fork in mid-air. “Where did they go?”

  “How should I know, Angela?”

  “She took the girls with her?”

  “Of course, she did,” her mother said, with barely restrained irritation.

  “This makes no sense, Mother,” Angela had said, shaking her head.

  “Have you found that Jillian is prone to choices that make sense?”

  The words are harsh, even for her mother. “Did you two have an argument?”

  “I don’t argue, dear.”

  Angela agrees that she should certainly know that by now. What was there to argue about when your will was never challenged?

  She also knows there is far more to the story than her mother is letting on. But whatever had happened, her mother isn’t going to be the one to tell her about it.

  They finish the remainder of dinner in silence. Angela forces a patience she doesn’t feel into the insignificant conversation that makes up the rest of their time at the table.

  As soon as she can escape to her room upstairs, Angela flips open the lid to her laptop and Facetimes Poppy.

  Impatient, she taps her nails against the desktop until Poppy’s smiling face appears on the screen.

  “Hey,” she says. “I’m getting ready for a date. What’s up?”

  Of course, Poppy would have a date in the middle of the week. Is there a night of the week when she doesn’t? Angela quells her jealousy and says, “Jillian took the girls and left the house today.”

  “Seriously?” Poppy asks on a note of disbelief.

  “She’s gone.”

  “Let me guess. This has something to do with Tate being back in town.”

  “I heard he bought Cross Country.”

  “Really?” Poppy asks, incredulous.

  “Yeah, amazing, isn’t it? That’s probably where she’s gone.” Angela tries to keep her voice neutral, but even she can hear the note of jealousy threatening to surface.

  “Now, now, don’t forget how much you despise him,” Poppy admonishes.

  Angela wants to remind Poppy that she’s the one who despises him, but that seems like a conversation better left for later.

  “Are you worried about Jeffrey?” Poppy asks, chastising.

  “How can I not be?” Angela shoots back.

  “You could trust me for one thin
g.”

  “I do trust you. That’s why things have gone as far as they have. I still can’t believe Jillie hasn’t contested Jeffrey’s will.”

  “What’s to contest?” Poppy snaps. “It’s what he wanted.”

  “You and I both know that isn’t true,” Angela says softly.

  Poppy’s face turns an unflattering red, visible even with the slight distortion of the computer screen. Her voice is hard when she says, “Do not ever say that out loud again.”

  For the most part, Poppy presents a carefree exterior to the world. But there have been a few times, and right now is one of them, when Angela realizes there’s something completely different beneath the surface. Something a little scary.

  “Don’t tell me you developed a conscience?” Poppy asks, sarcastic.

  “You’re the one who resented the fact that she was going to end up with everything that belongs to your family.”

  “I know,” Angela says, looking away from the computer screen so she doesn’t have to meet eyes with Poppy. It’s true, after all. How can she deny it? It just seems far uglier now than it had right after Jeffery’s death when everything had been so confusing.

  “Do you want to end up with nothing?” Poppy asks pointedly. “Or better yet, have it left up to your sister-in-law what happens to your future?”

  “No,” she says softly.

  “Then don’t forget, this was your idea.”

  Angela flinches a little at the words. Had it been her idea? She wants to deny the accusation, but a little voice inside reminds her that Poppy is the orator between the two. Arguing with Poppy is a pointless endeavor.

  “What if he left a copy of the will somewhere else? What if someone finds—”

  “Will you stop?” Poppy snaps. “A person could really get tired of your constant OCD nit-picking at the scabs of every potential little setback.”

  Angela sucks in a quick breath at the knife-sharp criticism in Poppy’s tone. “I’m sorry,” she says, contrite. “You’re right. There’s no reason to be worried.”

  “There isn’t,” Poppy agrees. “Just remember, Angela, that I’m on your side. I always have been. What if I hadn’t come to work for TaylorMade Industries? You would have ended up with nothing.”