by Lily Cahill
Behind her was Ralph, wobbling toward them. He looked like he had been through a fight, and Clayton could only guess that it had been with Cora. Anger flared in his chest.
“What happened, Cora? Are you okay?”
She didn’t say anything, just kept crying.
“Sheeez lying,” Ralph slurred, limping toward his car. “It was her came on to me.”
“Did he hurt you, Cora? Did he—he didn’t—?” Clayton couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. If what Clayton had done—forcing her to go to that party tonight before his parents had been dealt with—if that had led to her being hurt, being violated, he would never forgive himself. He felt the familiar desire rise, heard the hum of energy all around him—especially Ralph’s.
“No,” she finally said through wild little gasps. “He tried, but I—the water—and …,” her voice trailed off, hiding itself in more tears.
Part of him was relieved, but only part. The image of that weasel trying to hurt her, trying to take from her, it sent the hum higher, built it into a wild chorus of demands.
Destroy him.
Clayton wanted to destroy him.
He had discovered the last crack left in his self control: her. This one, he had no desire to seal.
“Liar,” Ralph sneered. “Little slut’s been asking for it for ages. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
At his words, Ralph’s energy flared like a blaze in front of Clayton’s eyes, blinding him. The fight against his instinct was nearly unbearable. He felt his breath go short, felt his body shake from the effort of it.
“Clayton?” Cora asked.
He heard the panic in her voice, knew she was right to worry. Ralph had done something terrible, but it was wrong to end his life. And that was surely what would happen if Clayton used his power. He knew it was wrong to kill him. Knew it, but felt so much differently.
“Clayton, you can’t.”
“Then you have to make him stop talking, Cora. You have to, or I won’t be able to stop myself.”
With tears still blurring her vision, Cora snapped her attention to the river. She waved her hand, and the water rose up into a wide, clear ribbon.
Ralph’s eyes bulged.
Cora thrust her arm forward, and the ribbon mimicked her movements. It hurtled toward Ralph, bowled him over, knocked him right off his feet.
But before his body could land on the ground, Cora whipped her hand in the air. The water caught him, wound around him, swirling in a torrent so fast that Ralph couldn’t break through. Clayton could see him struggling, hear his cries.
Then Cora’s hand shot up. And so did the water.
Clayton gasped. Ralph was ten feet off the ground, then thirty, then a hundred. His screams were muffled by water and distance, but Clayton could still hear them high above his head.
Cora flicked her wrist.
The liquid hive went soaring through the sky, its path following the river back in the opposite direction of its flow, back toward town, back toward the lake. The entire time, Cora’s gaze was fixed on it. In just moments it was so far away that it had grown small on the horizon. But just as it was about to disappear, it stopped. It was hovering right over the lake.
Clayton hadn’t noticed it before, but Cora had drawn her fingers into a fist. She released it, popping her hand into the shape of a fan.
As she did, the bubble around Ralph burst too. Clayton watched the water explode in front of the shining moon, watched his tiny form flail as he plunged into the water.
Relief flooded his heart. His rage disappeared. The hum quieted. Cora had done it. Clayton only hoped the bastard couldn’t swim.
Cora turned back to him. Her chest was heaving, the tears still falling down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling her back into his arms and holding her close. She had been through something terrible, but she was strong. She would recover. He would make sure she had everything she needed.
He took off his tux jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then drew her even closer and kissed the top of her head.
She pulled away from him, wiped her eyes. He could see the struggle there, how she was trying to get herself under control, fighting all the emotions that were rising to the surface.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said, taking a step away from him, and pulling his jacket off her shoulders.
“Cora—”
“No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear you explain. I can’t—I can’t listen to it.”
She handed him the jacket and stalked away, around the bushes and bramble, onto the tire-worn dirt tracks that led back toward the road.
“Cora, wait!” Clayton shouted, but she didn’t stop. He caught up to her fast.
“Go away,” she said, but her voice was sad, not angry. He kept pace with her as she ran.
“I’m not engaged, Cora.”
“Stop lying to me,” she said. “I was there. I saw everything.”
“It wasn’t true,” Clayton said. He caught her elbow and stopped her. “My father. He lied.”
“He’s right,” Violet said. She ran up to them from Clayton’s car, still parked near the bushes. “We’ve been broken up for ages, I swear. We aren’t engaged. We were never engaged.”
Cora looked from Clayton to Violet and back.
“They lied, Cora,” Clayton said. “It was all a trick. My family doesn’t understand,” Clayton said. “But they will. And even if they don’t, it changes nothing between us.”
“It was my fault,” Violet said. “I thought Clayton was in trouble so I went to his parents. But then I saw you with Florence and realized how wrong I’d been. I didn’t know they were going to do that. I swear. Can you ever forgive me?”
Cora looked at her, then back at Clayton. “Then you’re—you’re really not engaged?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief and tilting her chin up to look into his eyes.
“No,” he said, trailing his fingers down her cheek. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.” He wrapped his jacket around her again and used the fabric to pull her toward him.
“Oh, Clayton.”
He kissed her, long and full and so intimately that Violet turned away. He didn’t mean to hurt Violet, but he wasn’t going to hide anymore either. He would give a thousand trust funds for that kiss.
When they finally parted, Clayton spoke to her in hushed tones. “I love you, Cora. You and only you.”
“I love you too,” she said. “More than I can bear.”
Clayton kissed her again, whispering against her skin. “Let’s get out of here. I have something to show you.”
They went to Violet’s house first. She was quiet on the way there. They all were.
“I’m sorry, again,” she said to them both as she got out of Clayton’s car.
“Thank you for making things right,” Cora said. Clayton’s heart swelled at her kindness. Violet wasn’t a bad egg. Maybe one day she and Cora could even be friends.
“Night, Vi,” Clayton said, and nodded to her as he drove away.
He pulled Cora close to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he drove and it felt so perfect. He couldn’t wait to show her what he’d been planning for tonight.
The car wound down the mountainside from Highledge, finally making its way into the town square. Clayton parked in front of a line of shops. Cora might not know it, but they were all owned by Mr. McPherson—all but one.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
Instead of answering her question, Clayton handed her a small box, wrapped in soft yellow paper and tied with a blue bow.
“What is this?” she asked. “You spoil me too much.”
“I don’t spoil you half enough,” he said. “Open it.”
She grinned shyly and tore the paper away, then lifted the lid off the box. He knew that what was inside might confuse her even more.
“A key?” she asked, holding it up to the light.
“Your key,” he said, gett
ing out of the car and opening her door for her.
“Clayton—”
“Don’t you want to see what it opens?”
She gave him a perplexed look, but allowed him to tuck her hand in the crook of his arm and lead her toward the long row of shops.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Clayton stopped in front of one of the shops. It wasn’t the largest store on the block—but it wasn’t the smallest either. There were two wide display windows facing the street, flanking a glass door with ornate iron detailing. The place was vacant, and had been for at least two years.
“Maybe try it in this one,” Clayton said.
“What game are you playing at?” Cora asked. He could see the excitement in her eyes. It would have been well-hidden to someone who didn’t know her. But Clayton did know her. He knew that in this moment she knew exactly what was going on—knew, but wouldn’t allow herself to believe it.
“Go on, open it.”
Again, she furrowed her brow, but followed his instructions. She opened the door. He led her inside and flipped on the light.
“It’s empty now, but the goods have already been ordered—professional ovens and mixers and display cases. All the finest machines. You’ll have to order the ingredients of course, and the pans and packaging. I haven’t the first clue about what goes into making a cake. But there’s plenty left in the budget for that.”
“Oh, Clayton. This is too much,” she said, turning to him with alarm in her eyes. “We only agreed on you helping me move out. I couldn’t possibly accept all this.”
“Oh, it’s not a gift. I’m an investor. This shop belongs to me, and so will the machinery. There is an option to buy it of course—eventually—through your profits. This is a business arrangement and nothing else.”
He looked over at her, hoping the terms would satisfy her infuriating sense of honor.
“But—” she said. “But I couldn’t—” She was fidgeting her fingers, wringing them while looking around the shop. He could tell she wanted to say yes.
“You’d prefer me to go out of business before I even begin? The purchases have already been made, Cora. I had hoped I could count on you as a partner—as I said I don’t know the first thing about baking—but if you’d rather see me destitute, well …,”
“That would really happen?”
“Between the building and the equipment, it’s a considerable sum,” he said. And he suddenly realized that it was closer to the truth than it had been just yesterday. He had spared no expense. And without his trust fund, it was a big chunk of his available funds. “You either agree to the partnership or I’m afraid I’ll lose everything.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she said. The alarm hadn’t completely left her eyes, but it had been downgraded to worry. It wasn’t quite a yes, but it was close.
“Come on, you haven’t even seen the best part.”
Clayton wrapped a hand around her slim waist and led her toward the back of the shop where there was a narrow, winding staircase. They climbed it together. The door at the top opened to a quaint apartment—two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a modest kitchen. There was basic furniture in place, and Clayton could replace it with better pieces soon.
“Oh, Clayton,” she said. “It’s wonderful.”
“For you and Bethany. It’s not much, but I’m hoping it’s only temporary.”
“Temporary?” Cora asked.
He took her hands in his. “Cora, ever since the day I met you, I’ve felt a connection to you that I’ve never experienced with anyone else before. It’s as if our souls were matched before we were even born. You’re the strongest, smartest, kindest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
Cora laughed. “You really know how to charm a lady.”
“What I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you, and I never want to spend another day without you by my side.”
Clayton knelt in front of her, his hands shaking. How did she manage to unnerve him so? The tiny gasp that escaped her lips was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.
“Cora Josephine Hollis,” he said, pulling the tiny box out of his pocket. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The tears on her cheeks this time were silent. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what her answer would be. She looked so overcome that he almost felt bad for proposing.
But he could see the sparkle in those eyes—that same look that marked her ever-present struggle between what she hoped for and the fear that had guided her life until now. Then something shifted, settled.
She took in a deep breath and nodded.
“Yes, Clayton. Yes.”
He leapt up and swept her into his arms, lifted her off the ground and swung her around and around.
She clasped her hands around his neck. Her lips were on his this time. Her kiss was joyful, demanding, as though she was trying to pack all the love in her heart into that single kiss. He could feel it emanating from her—the love they would share regardless of circumstance or wealth. No matter what happened, they would be together. She would be his and he hers. Together, they could face anything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cora
Cora couldn’t stop staring at the glittering diamond on her finger as Clayton’s car wound through town. She was awestruck, undone. A bubble of happiness enveloped her and Clayton, a bubble that seemed to be on the verge of popping at any moment. She’d always thought it was stupid when people said they had to pinch themselves to believe they weren’t dreaming, but she knew now exactly what they meant.
Clayton Briggs—her Clayton—would be hers forever. They had decided to share their lives together. It was more than she had ever dreamed possible. Cora felt like shouting into the hills.
“I want you out of that house tonight,” Clayton said.
A part of her hesitated. Her bubble of happiness had suffered its first puncture.
Before they could be together—really be together—she had to leave the house she’d grown up in. And do it with Bethany too. Having a place to go was only half the battle. They’d also have to convince her father to relinquish Bethany into her care. It wasn’t going to be easy. But she agreed that the faster things happened the better. If her father thought he had leverage, he’d stretch things out as long as possible.
“Give me tonight to get ready,” she said. “If you come before five, no one will be awake.”
“We can send for your things later. The most important thing is to get Bethany out.”
“You’re right. An hour, then. Just give me an hour.”
“I’ll come in and help. I don’t want you running into Butch by yourself. Or your father. As soon as you can be ready, we’ll go. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Her mind was suddenly alight with plans. There was so much to do, and she hadn’t allowed herself to hope long enough to do any of it over the past few days. She made a fast list in her mind of what to collect. Luckily, the two of them had very few possessions—nothing that wouldn’t fit inside the trunk in the attic. But none of those things really mattered. Bethany was all that mattered. Everything else was secondary. They could make do as long as they had her.
But when they drove up to the house, Cora’s heart sank. The house lights were on, and there was a strange car parked out front.
“They must have people over. We should wait. At least until they fall asleep.”
But Clayton was already out and opening her door for her. “Come on. We’re going in.”
He held her hand and tugged her toward the door. He seemed agitated, but determined.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“That car belongs to my mother.”
“I was hoping the two of you would arrive soon,” Mrs. Briggs said.
Cora couldn’t believe it. Florence Briggs was sitting right there in her kitchen. Right there with both her father and Butch, still in her black satin gown with its full skirt cascadi
ng onto their worn linoleum floor.
“What are you doing here, Mother?” Clayton asked.
Cora wouldn’t want to be on the other side of that voice. He sounded so angry.
“Are you all right? You look like you’ve been in a fight,” she said to Cora. And Cora thought she could detect actual concern behind the woman’s eyes.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Cora said.
“Good. There are some things we need to discuss. I’ve just been having a conversation with your father.”
“If this is some kind of ploy to split us up again, it’s not going to work. I’ve just asked Cora to be my wife, and she’s accepted.”
“You ain’t marrying no Briggs,” Butch said from the corner.
“Hush up, boy,” her father said. There was an excited glint in Huck’s eye. He turned to Florence. “We’d be amenable to a marriage. Under certain circumstances.”
“The terms of our agreement are non-negotiable,” she said, then turned to Clayton. “I had no idea what your father had planned,” she said. “And I’m sorry he did it. I think you’ll find he’s sorry too if you speak to him again.”
Clayton was silent, looking at his mother with a wary expression. Cora didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet too.
“What I’ve been discussing with your father, Cora, is a business proposition.”
Cora didn’t like the sounds of that. No one who had ever done business with her father had come out ahead. She suddenly felt very protective toward Mrs. Briggs.
“You’re a business man, aren’t you, Mr. Murphy?”
“That’s right,” her father said. There was a smug expression on his face—one that Cora had come to hate. It always meant something bad was about to happen.
“We’ve brokered something of an exchange,” Florence continued. “He’s agreed to let you and Bethany move out.”
“In exchange for what?” Cora asked warily.
“In exchange for my paying off the remaining debt for the destruction of the Lowell Briggs memorial. If I do so, he’s agreed to sign legal papers granting you full custody of your sister.”
Cora couldn’t believe it. Clayton’s mother wasn’t against her. She was on her side. She was trying to help.