by Alexa Verde
Warmth spread through him as he sat on the couch, still exhilarated by his kiss with Gwendolyn. Even though it had been interrupted, he’d remember it forever. It and the priceless look in Gwendolyn’s eyes. He probably still had a goofy smile.
He listened to the long beeps, and by the time his mother picked it up, his gut had tightened. Well, it was his fault for calling so late. She must be asleep already.
“I need to tell you something.” With her voice trembling, she offered no greeting.
The tightening became painful. Did she have a setback?
No, no, no.
Lord, please!
The pause stretched until he had to glance at the screen to verify she was still on the line.
“Are you... are you okay?” The longer the pause stretched, the tauter his nerves stretched, too. Now, they were ready to snap.
“I am fine. It is... It’s difficult for me to say. First of all, I know I wasn’t a great mother, and I’m sorry. Thank you... thank you for forgiving me.”
Light with relief, he let his body flop back against the couch cushions. She wasn’t sick again.
Thank You, Lord.
Huh. Two prayers in a row? He didn’t have time to dwell on it. “I realize you had a difficult life raising me alone. And you’re my mother.”
A long sigh reverberated through the line. “I don’t deserve you. You and Daisy are the best things that ever happened to me. I love you.”
He barely refrained from whistling. His mother adored her granddaughter all right, but this was a big difference from the “I wish he were never born” that he wished he’d never overheard.
“I... I don’t know what to say.” “I love you, too” would be the fitting answer, but his relationship with his mother was more an obligation than love. Maybe it was time to change that.
After seeing how much Gwendolyn missed her parents, he did start feeling warmth toward his mother that could grow into love. He hoped it would.
“That’s not all I wanted to say.” Another sigh, an even longer one, whistled through the line.
He tensed again. “What happened?”
“I was desperately afraid to lose you. I married not just for myself but also to give you a father.”
What?
Unexpected heat roiled him like lava as he saw Tara’s tears again, the bruises and scars on her legs, felt the pain from the belt buckle. He smelled stale cigarettes from the man’s breath as his stepfather made Conner watch his stepsister crying because it was “all Conner’s fault.” He’d failed as a big brother. Failed miserably.
To think Conner would want that kind of father?
“An abusive one!” Despite his anger, he managed to keep his voice down so he didn’t disturb his daughter.
“He never abused you,” she snapped, her tone defensive. “Well, except at the end, but I did leave then.”
Somehow, he resisted the urge to grind his teeth. He slumped deeper against the back of the couch and crossed an ankle over his knee, the wonderful evening’s euphoria gone.
Was she clueless, or did she close her eyes to what she didn’t want to see?
“He played favorites for a long time, which only made it worse for me. At first, I strove to gain his approval, man up, be strong like him. But I wouldn’t mistreat my stepsister to please him, and it angered him.” Just like the cries of the sickly baby had.
No wonder his stepfather was against the “unnecessary surgery.” He’d been irritated since the moment the baby was born, upset he’d have “another mouth to feed.”
Conner should’ve found the funds to save the baby. He should have! His little brother was his responsibility, too. His eyes burned with tears of loss, but he couldn’t cry.
Men didn’t cry, after all.
Silence ensued, and he checked the phone screen again.
She was there. Just quiet.
Like she always was.
Probably disassociating from cruel reality like she’d done before. Disappearing into work and later into TV sitcoms was the way she’d survived. Canned onscreen laughter replaced the real kind in their house.
“I made many mistakes.” She started sobbing. “More than you realize. Your biological father... never refused to help you.”
“What?” He gasped, slamming both feet to the floor and nearly dropping the phone.
“He didn’t know about you. I never told him. Days before I found out, he broke up with me. He said he made a horrible mistake. That he couldn’t leave his wife.” She sobbed full force now. “I’m so sorry. Once I knew, I never said anything. I was afraid he’d take you away from me—like he did with his youngest daughter. He could hire the best lawyers, claim I was neglectful or something. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t lose you.”
He had difficulty breathing. All these years he’d resented his father, and the man never knew Conner existed. It didn’t justify an affair, but there was no abandonment. All his life, he’d considered himself unwanted, a burden for both of his parents.
He felt as if he’d just fallen from a horse and hit his head.
There was even ringing in his ears.
“So when I asked you to talk to him about helping us when my brother needed surgery, when my stepsister needed a safe place...” A lump clogged his throat, preventing him from continuing.
“I lied to you. I was afraid you’d never forgive me. I hoped things would get better on their own.” Sobs stopped, then resumed.
“You... How...” He struggled to think, much less say a word.
When secrets stayed hidden, they could kill. His baby brother didn’t get better. Neither did his stepsister’s life. The horse he’d adored was sold.
How different all their lives could be if his mother had told him sooner. Resentment brewed again, but he couldn’t let it poison him.
His mother could’ve kept this secret forever, and he would’ve never met the Clarks, never been able to give Daisy great cousins, aunts, and uncles, never would’ve fallen in love with Gwendolyn.
Whoa.
What had he just thought?
As the image of Gwendolyn with her kind hazel eyes, sun-kissed curls, and adorable freckles appeared in front of him, he realized it was true. His chest swelled. He loved her.
He didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, but he did. And he had no way back from it. It was possible to love again, even for a jaded man like him.
“Please forgive me.” The whisper was so quiet he barely heard it.
“I... I am trying to.” He wanted to fill his life with love, not hatred. He was worth it. Daisy was worth it. Gwendolyn was worth it. He needed to be a better man for them.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
He held in a groan. One painful secret revealed should be enough for the evening. “What... what is it?”
“I don’t want to keep you tied to me. I heard the way you talk about Gwendolyn. If... if you’re serious about her and she feels the same for you, you should be together. If Gwendolyn agrees to come here, great. If not, go where your heart leads you.” His mother paused. “Just make sure she’s a better mom to Daisy than I ever was to you. Though that won’t be difficult, will it?”
Chapter Twenty
The next day, Gwendolyn, Vera, Conner, and Daisy had tea at the mansion. Later, they were going to visit the owner of the navy-blue sedan Vera had found. Of course, once Daisy joined the children and Liberty who were supposed to return from the pony rides anytime.
Apprehension tightened Gwendolyn’s gut, and Conner covered her hand with his as if in silent support. She gave him a grateful glance, thankful she didn’t have to go through this alone. His touch warmed her better than the cup of honey-sweetened hot tea she’d just finished.
Voices sounded outside, and Gwendolyn tensed.
“Let’s check what the commotion is about.” Vera rose, and the rest followed.
They walked into the hall, and Daisy ran to Danica as if she didn’t see her friend “for ages.” Well, there was
another reason for the enthusiastic greeting, too.
“Oh, a kitty!” Daisy squealed.
Gwendolyn greeted everyone and helped the children out of their coats. It was a bit problematic with Danica and Nehemiah as they were holding a fluffy white cat that seemed too large for one child to lift. Gwendolyn’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. The pet looked so much like Cuddles, the Persian cat she’d had as a child, the one her mother took when she’d left with Vanessa.
“Are we having a new member in the family?” Gwendolyn looked from the children to Liberty.
As a veterinarian, Liberty had most likely already checked the animal for any diseases, or, well, inhabitants in its fur. Danica was famous for bringing in stray pets from the street, and this entire side of town that had adopted more cats and dogs than they’d ever dreamed could attest to that.
Liberty chuckled as she stroked the cat, and the pet purred. “The cat is healthy but without tags. Doesn’t look like she lived on the streets. Probably the owner dropped her off from a car. I’ll check the missing animals’ ads anyway.”
“Daddy, can we keep the kitty?” Daisy lifted her pleading eyes with those dreamy lashes at her father.
Yep, Gwendolyn knew this was coming. The cat stirred as if she needed to examine her new home.
So Danica and Nehemiah placed her on the floor, and while Gwendolyn helped the girl out of her coat, Danica looked at her with a wry smile. Gwendolyn knew what was coming next, too.
“This kitten needs a home.” Danica gave a nod with such conviction her hat slipped off. “Let’s see what human she’s gonna choose.”
Conner chuckled. “Kitten?”
That didn’t faze Danica as she marched into the hall, the cat trotting after her. “A grown-up kitten.”
Gwendolyn laughed. “One can’t argue with that.”
“We have pet food for Danica’s kitty as well as occasions like this. I’ll go find it.” Liberty strode to the kitchen.
The cat looked around, sniffed the air, sneezed once. Then she trudged toward Gwendolyn, sat near her legs, and started washing her fur.
“She chose you!” Danica and Daisy screamed in unison.
Uh-oh. Gwendolyn blinked. “This is a coincidence.”
The feline stretched and then rubbed against Gwendolyn’s leg.
“Nope.” Danica shook her head, sending her chestnut curls flying. “Miss Gwendolyn, she chose you.”
Even if one couldn’t rewrite the past, Gwendolyn could still have a cat again. She couldn’t help smiling. “I–I guess I could keep her in my room until we find the rightful owner.”
“Well, well, well.” Liberty put a pet food bowl in front of the cat’s nose, then placed her arms on Nehemiah’s shoulders, the boy wearing adorable dimples. “Gwendolyn, I have a feeling the cat owns you now.”
Daisy’s eyes were a little sad, and her pink lips pressed together in a way that resembled the cat’s downturned mouth.
Gwendolyn knew how the girl felt, so she flicked one of Daisy’s braids to draw a smile. “You can spend as much time with the cat as you want. You can even name her.”
The girl blinked, a smile opening her lips. “Really?”
“Really.”
But what would happen when Gwendolyn returned to her place? Gwendolyn remembered all too well the pain when Cuddles had been taken away from her. She didn’t want to do that to Daisy. The feline meowed her demand, and she realized Liberty was right.
“I’ll name her Marshmallow.” Daisy grinned.
Conner lifted Marshmallow and stroked her, and the feline had the audacity to purr, the traitor. Then he squatted on the floor and let his daughter carefully stroke Marshmallow, too.
That was the moment Gwendolyn realized how much she liked Conner—well, way more than liked.
She’d learned early in life that appearances could be deceitful, but her grandpa had taught her that a person’s character could be decided based on how they treated children and animals.
Conner clearly loved his daughter. Gwendolyn had been mesmerized when she’d seen him with the horses. And she was smitten after seeing him with this cat who’d needed a home as much as her heart did.
There were people around, and Gwendolyn needed to move. But she stayed rooted to the hardwood floor and stared.
She loved so many things about Conner. His slightly unkempt beard that showed he wasn’t into appearances. His full-bodied contagious laugh that made her laugh, too. His eyes that crinkled when he smiled at her, especially if she was the reason for that smile. She even admired the scars on his arms that he’d received while trying to defend his stepsister, though she wished she could spare him the pain.
And she loved how he believed in her even when she doubted herself. That she’d find her father’s murderer or her path in life.
She didn’t agree with him trading the profession he loved for one he didn’t care for, but she loved that he could sacrifice so much in memory of someone dear to him.
His gallery had exhibited not only famous artists but also new and upcoming ones, too, and sponsored free art classes for children. She loved how giving he was.
She loved how he could talk about horses for hours and knew them better than some people knew their friends. She loved his compassion toward his mother, even after she’d told him yesterday what she’d done.
But, probably most of all, Gwendolyn loved how he made her feel alive again. With him, she’d dared to sing, though she couldn’t carry a tune. She’d eaten barbecue wings with her bare hands. She’d become confident about her looks and stood tall instead of hunching. She’d stopped watching life through the window and started experiencing it, including the most amazing kiss of her lifetime, even if an interrupted one.
“Well, what are we going to do?” He studied Gwendolyn as he stroked Marshmallow again. “We can’t divide the cat.”
Marshmallow lifted her head and mewed in outrage. Gwendolyn winced as the statement reminded her of her mother’s words when she’d left Gwendolyn with a broken heart.
Conner leaned to his daughter. “Okay, how about we get you a kitten when we get back to Houston?” He glanced at Danica who wore a yellow sweater and salad-green pants, resembling a sunflower. “Or I’m sure your friend here will get us a stray by then.”
Danica grinned. “I’m gonna do my best,” she said with an air of importance.
“Yay! Thank you, Daddy!” Daisy squealed. “That way, you won’t feel lonely when I’m not with you.”
“Wait. We’re gonna get him Miss Gwendolyn,” Danica whispered, but everyone heard.
Heat rose up Gwendolyn’s neck.
Then it sank in as Conner lifted his daughter, his eyes wide. “So you wanted to stay with me not because you didn’t like to be with other children but because you didn’t want me to be lonely?”
She nodded. “You didn’t like me to leave. I want you to be happy. Not sad.”
What a kind soul. Gwendolyn’s heart went out to her, but Conner’s words stuck in her memory—When we’re back in Houston.
It wasn’t only about the cat. One couldn’t divide a heart, either.
* * *
“So you found who the navy-blue sedan with tinted windows and a bow decoration belonged to.” Her heart in her throat, Gwendolyn looked at Vera from the back passenger seat of Vera’s car.
Conner took her hand in his, making her grateful he was with her in this. She’d walked through life on her own for so long—stumbling, falling, getting hurt, and wobbling back up—that it meant a lot to have someone to rely on.
Vera turned onto a snowy street where most of the houses still had their Christmas decorations. “Yup. Curious people in Cowboy Crossing helped. The first such car belongs to an eighty-year-old lady, who returned yesterday from visiting her family in another state. The car was safely tucked in the garage and doesn’t have the decorations you mentioned. The second one was a rental from Springfield that had me concerned. Mr. Cohen, that famous sculptor who was your father’s l
ast client, rented it. He rented a house in Cowboy Crossing, too, instead of staying at the B&B, which didn’t surprise me.”
“Do you think he sent me the threats, too?” Gwendolyn asked.
“I don’t have proof because most of them were from burner phones. The card he sent you had no fingerprints. But one time, he slipped and sent you an email from a laptop. My sister-in-law tracked down the IP address.”
Gwendolyn stared ahead as they approached a quaint mint-green wood-framed building generously covered by snow. It reminded Gwendolyn of one of the ornaments on the Clarks’ Christmas tree.
What color would she like her own house to be? Would Conner and Daisy have the same tastes?
Right. While they were going to leave soon, Gwendolyn planned their life together. Her lungs constricted.
She did her best to switch back into professional mood, though having her hand in his made her brain foggy. “Do you... do you think this confirms he had something to do with my father’s murder?”
Conner squeezed her fingers as if to show her he was here—with her. She forced a wobbly smile. Without him, she might not have enough courage to go through with this.
Vera parked at the curb and turned off the engine. “I have a strange feeling about this. Why would he threaten you if he shot your dad? Why the masquerade with the car? All the reminders about your father? Also, I have to tell you our visit might be in vain. We’re not the police. He doesn’t have to talk to us. He doesn’t even have to open the door to us.”
“Understood.” And Gwendolyn did.
But she’d carried the mountain of the mystery of her father’s death for too long, and she needed answers to unearth herself from it.
Lord, please give me some answers.
They surveyed the street before getting out and racing to the door, the air fresh and frosty after the warm car. Conner positioned himself as if he wanted to shield her, and it struck her as funny because she was usually the one shielding others.
Was it time to change? Could she allow someone to shield her from the storms of life instead of weathering them on her own?
Vera rang the bell while Gwendolyn’s heart beat fast, and only Conner’s arm on her shoulder strengthened her. She placed her hand in her purse, calmed somewhat by the smoothness of her weapon. She knew her friend was packing, too.