What Happens in Charleston...

by Rachel Bailey

  Back in his office, Matt slid open the second drawer of his desk and reached below the papers there to find the envelope he hadn’t seen since the day his father’s will had been read. He hadn’t wanted the letter at his house, in his private life, so he’d thrown it at the bottom of this drawer and tried to forget about it.

  But despite his anger at his father, it was time to read the man’s final words to him.

  Dear Matthew,

  I hesitate to write this letter, because I know of all my children, you’ll be the most disappointed in me. And perhaps you have the right to judge me harshly. You know how hard it is to be a father, how much we want to do the best by our children, how we want to give them the world.

  The difference between us is you’ve become a better father to Flynn than I could ever have hoped to be to any of my children. In the short time you’ve had that little boy, you’ve devoted yourself to him, then, after losing Grace, you’ve been all things to your son.

  I’m proud of you. More proud than I could say to your face. You’ve become a fine man, a good father.

  I wish I’d been half the father to you, to all my children, that you are to Flynn. I’ve failed Jack the worst, but I’ve kept this secret from you all these years, and left you to find out after I’ve gone.

  All I can ask for now is forgiveness. I have no excuses. All I can offer is my apology and to tell you that if you can’t forgive me, I’ll understand. And that I’ll still love you and be proud of you.

  Love,

  Dad

  A great, thick ball of emotion clogged his throat, and he struggled to get control. This hadn’t been what he’d expected. If he’d thought about what was in the letter at all, he’d have predicted a bunch of excuses and a request to play nice with Jack and Alan.

  Instead it was full of love and…and admiration. The grief he’d put a stopper on since the day of the will reading burned the backs of his eyes. But he was no role model for fatherhood. He’d just screwed up again by letting Flynn get attached to Susannah then scaring her off.

  Susannah.

  She’d said it was all smoke and mirrors with him. His father had secrets and he’d had secrets. She was right.

  He’d been angry at his father for not telling them that he’d fathered a child before he’d married their mother, yet here he was, keeping Flynn’s biological mother a secret.

  He stalked to the window, leaning an arm on the frame.

  “I’m sorry, Grace,” he whispered to the white clouds hovering over Charleston, “but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let Flynn grow up with secrets, too.”

  To be the man his father had thought he was, he had to step up to the plate. He needed to tell his family that Susannah was Flynn’s biological mother, and she needed to be there to hear it. To be acknowledged by them.

  In three strides, he was back at his desk, phone in hand. He dialed Susannah’s cell and waited. She should have touched down in Georgia by now. How would she react to hearing from him again, and so soon? Would she refuse to come? His pulse resounded in his ears.

  It rang five times before she picked up, which gave him a few moments to plan what he wanted to say. But when he heard her voice, the sweet sound flowed around and through him and his mind froze. All he could think about was her blue eyes, the way her blond hair would be falling around her shoulders, her lips parted to say his name.

  Susannah stood in the hall outside her apartment, keys in one hand, her carry-on suitcase in the other, her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she tried to unlock the door.

  “Hello?” she repeated. She should have checked the display screen when she answered, but her hands were full and she was in a rush to get inside, so she’d just thumbed the answer button.

  It had been a horror flight home. The plane had traveled smoothly, but she’d spent the entire time praying she’d made the right decision, knowing she’d spend the rest of her life convincing herself she’d done the right thing to leave Matthew. To leave Flynn. The key turned in the lock and she pushed through, but still the person on the other end of the phone didn’t speak.

  “Hello?” she said again, dropping her suitcase and shutting the door. She was about to hang up, when a voice familiar and dear said her name.

  Her heart clenched and twisted. “Matthew.” Then her brain caught up. “Is it Flynn? Has something happened?”

  “He’s fine. He’s home with my mother.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said, relieved beyond measure.

  “But I would like you to come back to Charleston for something.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the back of her couch. If he asked her to go back to him, would she have the strength to refuse again?

  “Matthew—” But he interrupted her.

  “I can’t let Flynn grow up with secrets,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m going to tell my family that Grace wasn’t his biological mother. That you are. And I’d like you to be there when I tell them.”

  Stunned, she moved to the front of the couch and sank down into the overstuffed cushions. “Why?”

  “I think it’s only fair that you’re acknowledged when I tell them.”

  “No, why are you telling them at all? You said you could never break that vow to Grace.”

  “My obligations to Flynn outweigh my responsibility to Grace. I have to do what’s right by him, and the right thing is for him to know everything as soon as he’s ready.”

  He was really going to tell them. Then tell Flynn when the boy was ready.

  Flynn would always know she was his biological mother.

  A flower of hope, of love, bloomed in her chest, but before it became too big, she needed to close it down. Exposing this secret would make everything so much more complex. How would Flynn feel? Would it make things harder for him, to have another mother who didn’t live with him and his daddy? Would Matthew want her to keep in touch with Flynn? And where would that leave her relationship with Matthew—it had been hard enough to walk away once, could she do it over and over?

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of her swirling thoughts, and of Matthew’s change of heart. “That must have been a hard decision.”

  “Not once I had a couple of things pointed out to me.” His voice was almost rueful, yet the tension it held was too strong for that.

  She knew she had no right to ask, but until a few hours ago, she’d been privy to his innermost thoughts, so the words tumbled out. “By who?”

  “You. RJ. My father,” he said, and before she could question how he’d had advice from his father, he asked, “Will you come?”

  Could she do it? Should she? Walk back into the Kincaids’ world for a day. Be near the man she loved but couldn’t have. Be acknowledged as the mother of a little boy she loved, but would never be a proper mother to.

  Once this information came out, she and Matthew would need time to discuss the ramifications, and plan how they wanted to handle the future for Flynn, so she guessed they’d have to meet at some point, anyway.

  Weary and overwhelmed, she rubbed her eyes with a trembling hand. “When are you going to tell them?”

  “This Sunday. My family has lunch together every Sunday, so they’ll all be there. In fact, it’ll be the first time I’ve been since Flynn went to hospital.”

  She could think of nothing worse than facing the Kincaids when they learned she was the biological mother of their grandson and nephew. Memories crowded in—her grandparents’ displeasure at everything she did. The agony of facing the family of the boy she’d been pregnant to as a teenager. How overpowered she’d felt. She lifted her chin. She was a different person now. This time she would stand up, not only for Matthew, but for Flynn and herself.

  To get her voice to work, she had to swallow hard. “I’ll be there.”

  She disconnected and—once again—hoped to heaven she’d done the right thing. For all their sakes.

  Twelve

  As he waited for
Susannah at the airport arrivals gate for the second time in a month, Matt found himself tapping his thighs with his thumbs, nervous as all hell. It had only been a matter of days since he’d seen her last, yet it felt like an eternity. His arms were desperate to hold her, to keep her here by his side.

  At three in the morning as he’d lain awake, aching for her, optimism had surfaced and he’d wondered if she missed him this much, too. If her torment was half as strong as his, maybe she’d reconsidered and would stay this time.

  She emerged through the door; the long blond hair that had curtained their faces when she’d leaned down to him was around her shoulders. The lips that had scorched his body were painted blush-pink and pressed together in a flat line. The crystalline-blue eyes that had darkened with passion when she looked at him were searching the crowd.

  She was carrying a large handbag. Not the small carry-on suitcase she’d had last time—she really was planning to return to Georgia tonight. His stomach withered as disappointment surged.

  When her gaze landed on him, he stilled, looking for a clue as to her thoughts. She gave away none beyond some nerves of her own in the way she touched her hair. He made his way over and kissed the silken skin of her cheek. Two inches to the right of where he wanted to kiss, but she’d withdrawn the right.

  “Did you have a good flight?” he asked, annoyed that his voice sounded more like a rasp.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  So formal. This woman who’d loved his body with such passion. The contrast between what they’d had and how things now stood between them was gut-wrenching. He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the exit nearest his car.

  Just outside the door, her step faltered. She looked up at him, a small line between her brows. “Matthew, I’ve been thinking about Grace’s parents since you rang. If you tell everyone about me, then how will they…?”

  He guessed her mind. He’d been worried, too. “I’ve told them.” It had been important to him that they hear before his own family. “I visited them yesterday and told them everything. About how devastated Grace had been about not having a child of her own blood, and why she’d wanted all the details of the egg donation to be kept secret. How devoted she’d been to Flynn and how proud they could be of her. And how much Flynn loves them.” He hadn’t wanted doubts on any of these points.

  “How did they take it?”

  “There were tears,” he admitted as they threaded their way through lines of parked cars. “But I think after they get over the shock they’ll be okay. I explained that they would always be Flynn’s grandparents, and I had no intention of restricting their access. They’re too important to Flynn to ever jeopardize that.”

  “You’re a good man, Matthew Kincaid,” she said quietly.

  He swore under his breath. A good man, but not good enough to stay with. She still believed the ridiculous idea that she was a replacement for Grace, and nothing he said seemed to convince her otherwise.

  They arrived at his car and he opened the passenger door for her. She stepped in and he closed the door.

  As he slid into the driver’s seat, she said, “You might be interested to know that I had a call from my grandmother last night.”

  He paused before starting the ignition. “Did you take the call?”

  “Against all my instincts,” she said with a little smile, and some of the strain between them melted away.

  “Then why answer it?”

  She paused, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Remember what my grandfather said at the Barclays’?”

  “That you broke your grandmother’s heart.” It had been a low blow and Matt was still furious thinking about it. He reached for her hand and held it between his. “If you ask me, they reaped what they sowed.”

  “Maybe,” she said, looking down at their joined hands. “But my father put up with his parents because he believed in forgiveness. And he must have loved them, too.”

  “If he’d stood up to them sooner, you might not have had to endure their control games and manipulations.”

  “From what my grandmother said—and didn’t say—I think I might have been the first person to stand up to them. They’re rich, they have social position and my grandfather is a bully. People have let them get away with a lot.”

  “But not you.” His chest swelled, he was so incredibly proud of her in this moment.

  She gave him a beautiful smile, obviously picking up on the genuine emotion in his voice. “We might be able to come to a new understanding.” Her smile faded and her gaze was earnest as it met his. “Another thing she said was that she wasn’t happy with the deal my grandfather put to you at the Barclays’, and to make up for it, she told Granddaddy to give Larrimore Industries’ business to your company. He’ll be calling you tomorrow.”

  He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I’d have liked to have been a fly on the wall when she told him to do that. I think I’ll enjoy taking his call.” Not wanting to lose the more relaxed mood, an idea formed in his head. “We’ve got a bit of time before the family lunch, and Flynn is already there with Mom and Pamela. Is there anything you want to do?”

  “How much time do we have?”

  He checked his watch. “About an hour, give or take.”

  She bit down on a smile. “Have you heard of John’s Point?”

  He hadn’t been to the little lookout for years, and couldn’t see any particular appeal for a visit. He’d hoped she’d suggest somewhere more private. Intimate. But she was here today at his request, so the least he could do was drop by if she wanted to see it.

  “Sure,” he said and started the car.

  They spent the drive talking about Flynn’s health and the Elvis songs he’d conned people into singing recently. In the days since Susannah had left, Matt had missed many things about her, but this kind of easy conversation was perhaps one he’d missed the most.

  When they arrived at the small viewing platform on the rocky outcrop, her eyes lit up and the effect was mesmerizing. She undid her seat belt and climbed out before he could get around to open her door.

  “What is it about this place?” he asked as he clicked the keyless lock.

  The wind whipped her hair around her face. “When I was a girl, my father used to bring me here.”

  She began to climb the path and he followed behind. “So it reminds you of your father?”

  “Yes.” She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, grinning. “And no.”

  Matthew chuckled. They reached the top, a little-known lookout with a panoramic view over Charleston and out to sea. “You like the view?”

  “Sure, the view’s great,” she said over her shoulder.

  He could live an entire life with Susannah Parrish and never tire of trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. “That’s not why you wanted to come.”

  “Nope,” she said and walked to the rail and stretched out her arms. The strong wind smoothed the hair from her face, pressed her dress against her curves. Her eyes drifted closed and her mouth tugged wide in a smile of deep pleasure.

  “I used to come here often when I lived in Charleston,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Every week, if I could manage it.”

  “You came for the wind,” he said, as it finally made sense. He remembered the look of joy on her face that morning in his courtyard. “You have a thing for the wind.”

  “I do,” she said without embarrassment. “It revitalizes me. Some people like adrenaline sports, some like the water. I like the breeze in my hair, against my skin.”

  “I have to admit, I like seeing you with the breeze in your hair.” She was magnificent. Like a goddess.

  She opened one eye and smiled at him. “Come and try it.” She held out a hand and without thinking, he took it, stepping up onto the bottom rung of the railing, and leaning forward so it took his weight. She moved behind him and lifted his arms to the side before taking up her own position again.

  “Now close
your eyes,” she said, not looking at him. “And pretend you’re alone with the breeze.”

  Feeling a little foolish, he followed her instructions and was amazed to find that within seconds, the world faded away and almost his entire focus was taken by the current of air that pressed against him. Almost his entire focus. Because he never lost the awareness of Susannah. He reached out his fingertips and found her hand, entangling them together. Hers didn’t respond at first, then they quickly wrapped around his, tightly. He opened his eyes and glanced over. She was looking at him and he could see straight into her heart, and he finally understood something in his conscious mind that he had always known, soul deep.

  Susannah was no woman’s replacement.

  She’d been right that he had seen her that way on some level. He’d used it as a defense against falling in love with her because he couldn’t stand the thought of things going the same way they had with Grace. But nothing with Susannah would go the same way, because Susannah was nothing like Grace. Whatever happened between them would be unique and belonging to them alone.

  He wanted that. Wanted everything that came of being with her.

  “Susannah,” he said, his voice rough with all he hadn’t said.

  “No, Matthew. Please don’t say it again. I can’t stay.” Her eyes filled with tears. Tears he’d caused.

  Everything inside him wanted to rise up and revolt, to refuse to accept. But no matter how many times he asked, she kept giving the same answer. He wouldn’t beg, and even if he did, he doubted it would make any difference.

  He dropped his arms and straightened. Despite the canyon-size ache inside, he had to keep himself together or he’d never get through the next few hours with his family.

  He checked his watch. “It’s probably time we got to my mother’s.”

  The drive to the Kincaid mansion was silent. Why had she done something as foolish as take him to John’s Point? At the airport, things had been too formal, almost abrupt. But they’d settled in to being able to carry a conversation. Then she’d ruined that and could kick herself for making things more difficult for him just before he had to confront his family.