Going Home (Dale Series)

by Arianna Hart

  When she grasped his thigh, her thumbs nearly brushing his erection, he knew he had to stop now before he lost complete control. With one last, regretful stroke of her breast, he pulled away. It took a second for her eyes to open, and when she looked at him with a passion-drugged expression, it was all he could to not to drag her off to the nearest secluded spot.

  “How do you do this to me every time?” he asked.

  “Me? Believe it or not, I don’t even kiss on the first date.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with those New Yorkers? I can’t believe they aren’t killing themselves to get you naked. I know it’s killing me to leave that dress on you.”

  “That comment should really piss me off, like I have no control over whether I keep my clothes on. Unfortunately, I don’t think I do. Once again, you’ve shown you have a lot more control than I do. Damn it.” She got off the swing and stood by the porch steps.

  “Hold on a second. You’re mad at me because I’m not ripping your clothes off?” What the fuck? It was taking every last ounce of his physical control to hold back, and she was upset about it?

  “I’m not mad at you. More at myself. I thought after all this time I’d stop throwing myself at you. For years, I had visions of running into you and smiling politely at you before walking away. Instead, I’m ready to screw you on Mary Ellen’s front porch, and once again, you’re the one who is able to put the brakes on, not me.”

  “You never threw yourself at me. Believe me, I’d have remembered that.”

  “What do you call that time by the creek? If I recall, you’re the one who said no that time.”

  “Because I didn’t have a condom and didn’t want to get you pregnant before I left for the Marines. I was trying to do the right thing.”

  “I know. And I appreciate that, I do.”

  “But?”

  Before Nadya could respond, Mary Ellen poked her head out the front door. “Anyone want coffee with dessert?”

  “Sure,” he replied. It wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep tonight anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Mary Ellen asked as Nadya collected her purse and car keys. “I can get my sitter to come early and watch the boys.”

  “No, but thanks. I think this is something I have to do on my own.”

  “Okay, but if you need me just call. I’ll be there in no time.”

  “It’ll be fine. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just nervous for you. Heck, I think I’m more nervous than you.”

  “I feel better now that I’ve made the decision to find out what my father had to say. It won’t change anything, but it’ll be a relief to put it behind me.” She hoped.

  “Well, you look like a million bucks. That’s got to count for something.”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret. I buy everything on consignment. Even the car was used.”

  “Get out of town. You must make good money as a lawyer.”

  Nadya adjusted a stray curl and stuck it back in the French twist. Damn Georgia humidity. “When I first started interviewing, I didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Mama and I were living in a tiny apartment, and she was working two jobs so I could concentrate on law school and passing the bar. One of the girls I went to school with brought me to this second-hand shop, and I got designer clothes for dirt cheap. I’m still paying off college loans so I keep going there. It seems like I’ve worn hand-me-downs my whole life. You can take the girl out of the trash, but you can’t take the trash out of the girl.”

  “You stop that talk right now. I think that shows you have good old common sense. Why waste your money if you don’t have to? And when I come up to New York to visit, you can take me to this shop so I can get me a pair of shoes like those. That’ll put Pansy’s knickers in a knot for sure.”

  Mary Ellen looked like she wanted to suck the words back into her mouth, so Nadya took pity on her. “Mar, I figured the Campbells were still in town. Don’t worry. You can say their names without me flipping out. I’ve put that behind me.”

  “Well, I haven’t. I still hate them like poison.”

  “Let it go.”

  “Humph. Easy for you to say. You don’t have to see the sanctimonious bitches every Sunday.”

  “Mary Ellen!”

  “It’s true. Why, just last week, Orleane had the nerve to tell me I shouldn’t have hired Rosa because she was Mexican. Rosa works twice as hard as anyone in this town. That’ll be the day that I let Orleane Campbell tell me who to hire.”

  “Mama, Hunter keeps knocking over my tower!” Billy called from the den.

  “You go watch the boys. I’ll call you after the meeting.” Nadya hugged Mary Ellen.

  “You better. I’ll have about eaten myself alive with curiosity.”

  Nadya blasted the air conditioning as she made her way to Hornblower’s office. She tried to believe what she’d said to Mary Ellen, but it wasn’t working. Her heart beat double time, and her palms were sweaty on the leather steering wheel. As ridiculous as it seemed, she was scared to death that finding out who her father was would change her life.

  The center of town was a bit more active today. There were other cars on the street and parked in front of the general store. Maybe Dale wasn’t a ghost town, after all. It was early enough in the day to see children playing in the little park near the town green, and people were coming and going from the gas station and the post office.

  If she didn’t have the whole father deal on her mind, she might have tried to see if there were any faces she recognized, but right now the last thing she wanted to do was run into someone else from her past.

  She took a deep breath and made sure she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth and her hair was in place before she got out of the car. Her heart was in her throat as she knocked on the door to the office, but she refused to let it show. She’d approach this like she approached meeting the opposing counsel—professionally and with her cards close to her chest.

  Hornblower himself answered the door. “Good morning, Miss Sarov. Come on in. I was tickled to hear your message. You’re doing the right thing.” He already had two glasses of sweet tea on his desk, right next to a thin folder.

  Her stomach churned with anxiety. Damn, she wished she hadn’t had seconds on Mary Ellen’s biscuits and gravy this morning.

  “I’m willing to hear what you—or my father, rather—had to say. That’s all I’m committing to at the moment.”

  “Of course, of course. Why don’t you sit down and have your tea while you read the letter your daddy left you? After you’ve finished that, I’ll go over the particulars of the will. How does that grab you?”

  “That’s fine.” He must be nervous himself if he was willing to skip the social chitchat. Her hands shook as she accepted the envelope from him, and she damned herself for the show of weakness.

  “I’ll just run across the street to the store and get myself a muffin. Take all the time you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  She waited until he left before examining the envelope. It was standard stock paper, nothing fancy. Her name was printed in block letters on the front. Her entire name—Nadezhda Grace Sarov.

  “This changes nothing,” she said aloud before tearing it open.

  My darling Nadya Grace,

  I’ve tried to write this letter so many times, but I never know where to begin. I don’t know what your mama told you about me. Probably very little and none of it good. She wouldn’t be wrong. I met your mother when her family came to work on my horse farm. Her father was known to have the touch with horses, and I had a new colt that showed promise if I could break him. I took one look at your mama and fell head over heels for her. I won’t try to justify my actions. I was a married man with two sons and more than twenty years older than Talaitha. I knew courting her was wrong, but it didn’t stop me. Looking back, that was the best time of my life and I wouldn�
�t change anything except my decision to stay with my wife. I’ve made many mistakes, but falling in love with your mother wasn’t one of them. Nor were you.

  Nadya felt nauseous. How dare he say that was the best time of his life when her mother ended up shunned by her entire family and living in poverty trying to raise a child when she was still a child herself? Of course it wasn’t a mistake for him. He didn’t have to pay the price of his courting. What an ass. She forced herself to continue reading.

  When your mama told me she was carrying you, I panicked. I wasn’t ready to leave my wife, and Tala was only sixteen. I could lose everything I’d worked so hard for. I set her up in my hunting cabin in Dale and promised her a monthly allowance if she’d leave my name off the birth certificate. She looked at me with the coldest eyes and said she’d take the cabin until the child she carried no longer needed it, but she wanted nothing to tie me to her. At the time I thought I’d gotten off easy. Now I know it was a curse.

  Years later, I hired a private detective to find out everything I could about you and your mama. I followed your progress through school and was as proud as I could be when you graduated college. I tried to help where I could by giving endowments and grants, but I still couldn’t acknowledge you, and it broke my heart.

  What right did he have to be proud of her? He hadn’t helped her study at night or work two jobs so she could have a roof over her head. The arrogance of him made her want to scream. She threw the letter on the desk and walked about the tiny office until she got her temper under control. She’d read the rest of his letter and then burn it.

  I know this letter comes too late, and I’ll die with that on my soul. I just wanted you to know that even though I could never be there for you, I always loved you. I hope someday you can forgive me.

  Your father,

  Haywood Masterson

  “Fat chance,” she nearly snarled. Her head spun with too many thoughts for words. She finally had the name of her father and knew the story of her conception, and she felt dirty. He was a selfish asshole who took advantage of a poor gypsy teenager and now wanted her forgiveness. She wished he was still alive so she could tell him to go to hell.

  The door opened, and Nadya spun on her heel to face Hornblower. Her anger must have shown on her face because he took a step back before he caught himself.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t know what was in that letter. I was just doing my job.”

  Nadya took a deep breath, then another. Her temper was on a very tight leash and could snap at any second. “How old was Mr. Masterson when he died?”

  “Woody had just turned seventy before he dropped dead of a massive heart attack. He’d had a few minor ones before, but this one got him before the ambulance could even get here.”

  She did the math in her head. He was forty-five when he’d seduced her sixteen-year-old mother. He should have been horsewhipped.

  “He says in his letter he has two sons. Do they know about their bastard half-sister?”

  “There’s no need for such language, Miss Sarov.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s what the good people of this town called me all my life. While my father and his wife and his two sons lived on their horse farm all nice and cozy, my mother had to put up with women calling her a whore and men trying to use her like one. Do you know how hard it is for a newcomer in this town, Mr. Hornblower? Do you? Not only was my mother sixteen and pregnant, she was a gypsy. People would spit at her on the street. When I went to school, mothers wouldn’t let their children play with me because I was gypsy trash. Anytime something went missing in the classroom, I always got blamed because it was in my gypsy blood to be a thief.”

  She was vibrating with the force of her anger. Her fists were clenched so hard, her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, do anything to release the tidal wave of fury burning inside her.

  “I can’t say I know your pain, because obviously I couldn’t. I do understand your anger. If you want to hear the details of the will another time, I respect that.”

  The will. She’d forgotten dear old Daddy had left her a little pittance. She wanted to take that and burn it too. “No, let’s get it over with now.” The sooner she was done with Hornblower, the better. She never wanted to come back here again.

  “I’ll spare you the legalese. The gist of it is he left you the cabin and forty acres surrounding it as well as any rents collected on the property minus taxes and fees.”

  The cabin was hers? And the place by the creek? “Does his family know about this yet?” was all she could think to ask.

  “No. The property has been in a trust since you were born. After you and your mama moved out, Woody rented it out to hunters and the like. The trust has been collecting interest for twelve years. There’s a nice little nest egg for you now.”

  “Is that supposed to make up for a childhood in poverty? Does that bring my mother back?” she bit out. She had to leave. If she stayed in this room another minute, she’d explode. “I’ll get back to you about the details, Mr. Hornblower. Good day.” She grabbed her purse and fled.

  “Miss Sarov! Wait!” he called after her.

  Heads turned, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get away as fast as she could. She ran towards her car and smacked into a solid wall of muscle and soft cotton.

  “Whoa, slow down there, killer, you’ll break an ankle running in those shoes.” J.T. held her upright when she would have fallen backwards. He took one look at her face, glanced at the door she’d come out of and took action. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Before she could protest, he swooped her up into the cab of his truck, which was parked right next to her car, and backed out of the parking spot. He didn’t try to speak to her, just held her hand and drove like a bat out of hell. Nadya didn’t mind his driving. The faster they went, the more distance she’d have between herself and Hornblower. Unfortunately, he couldn’t drive fast enough to keep the anger from rolling over her or the thoughts spinning through her brain.

  He pulled in front of the cabin before she processed where she was.

  “Come on, I’ll get you some tea, or a beer, or whiskey. Whatever you want.”

  “I want to go to the creek. To my spot.”

  “Dressed like that?”

  “I don’t give a shit. I need…I just need to go.” She opened the truck door and jumped out. Her heels sank into the soft dirt, and sweat immediately dampened her blouse.

  “Hold on a second! At least take a stick!” he called after her.

  She ignored him and plowed through the bushes. Branches scratched her arms and pulled at her clothes, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was moving. If she just kept moving she wouldn’t have to think about anything.

  Something scurried in the leaves and the birds cawed raucously overhead. The familiar sound of trickling water broke through the storm cloud of anger surrounding her as she hurried along the path. Finally, she reached the clearing.

  Her breath wheezed in and out of her chest like bellows, and she realized she’d run the last fifteen yards or so. She was lucky she hadn’t caught her heel on a root and fallen. Without wasting any time, she kicked her shoes off and rolled up her pants. She had a blister on her baby toe, and the cool water would feel heavenly on her overheated feet.

  The log had been worn smooth from the weather and bugs and still made the perfect bench. She looked at her reflection in the pool and winced. Her hair had partially fallen out of the twist, sweat made rings under her armpits, her mascara had run and she looked like a raccoon.

  She scooped some water in her hands and splashed it on her face. Trying to get the mascara out from under her eyes was almost impossible, but the coolness felt good. Her blouse was soaked by the time she was through, but it would dry quickly enough in the heat. Leaning back, she braced herself against the boulders behind her and let the breeze caress her face. With her feet in the water the
heat was bearable so she closed her eyes and tried to absorb the peace of the place.

  Thoughts of her father’s letter and will kept intruding. Even the magic of the grove couldn’t calm her down. She was so angry and sad and frustrated she felt like her skin couldn’t contain all her emotions.

  “So I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” J.T. stood next to her, holding out a water bottle.

  “Jesus,” she practically screeched in fright. “You scared the life out of me. I didn’t hear you coming. Wear a bell or something.” She couldn’t believe he’d crept up on her without her hearing the tell-tale snap of branches.

  “Sorry, I hung back until I thought it was safe. You looked ready to chew iron and spit nails.”

  “I am.” She took the water bottle and drank greedily.

  J.T. tossed his boots by her ruined heels and rolled up his jeans before joining her on the log. His feet looked wide and masculine next to her smaller ones. She waited for him to press her about the meeting, but he didn’t. He didn’t speak at all, just sat next to her while she let the cool water run over her toes.

  “I have a punching bag in the cabin if you’re interested in beating the snot out of something.”

  Nadya laughed ruefully. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. I’m so furious, and I don’t know what to do with it.” Sitting wasn’t going to work, so she got up and paced in the clearing. A rock cut the bottom of her foot, and she threw the offending object as hard as she could. “That selfish, arrogant bastard! I hope he’s burning in hell right now.”

  “Don’t hold back—tell me how you really feel.”

  “It’s not funny. Do you know that son-of-a-bitch owns the cabin? And the land. And this spot. My spot that I went to whenever I felt overwhelmed and angry because of how I was treated because of him. That’s why my mama never had to pay rent. That was his payoff. If she didn’t put his name on my birth certificate, she would have a roof over her head to raise his child.”