Cassie shook her head and pulled away.
“Don’t lie to me.”

Cal tugged her back. “This is not a lie.”

“But everything else is. Something isn’t right here and no one will tell me the truth.”

He pushed his hand through her hair, tugged her even closer. “I only know that I came back here for you. And that is the one truth you need to remember.”

Then he kissed her, his touch tentative and tender until Cassie sighed and returned the kiss, her arms grasping him and holding him close. Cal wrapped her in his embrace, his touch demanding and deepening until she felt herself falling into a blinding mist of longing.

Dear Reader,

I have always loved a good Southern gothic saga. So I was thrilled to be able to finally write the one that has been in my head for many years. This was a complex story, and I admit I struggled with it a bit. But I’m pleased with the final product. I hope you will be, too.

When ready-to-wear designer Cassandra Brennan returns to Camellia Plantation in South Georgia, she finds several surprises waiting for her—the main one being the man who broke her heart years ago. Her estranged father is dying, and Cal Collins seems to be taking over her beloved home. But as revelations keep coming, Cassie finds things are not always what they seem, and she also discovers that even though she still loves Cal, he might be involved in an elaborate plot to keep her from finding out what really happened the day her beautiful socialite mother died.

I grew up in a big Southern family, so I know a thing or two about secrets and scandals. But in the South, we tend to bring out our eccentric family members and show them off! In Cassie’s case, however, she was embarrassed and ashamed that her own father had scorned her. The truth turned out to be a test of her love for Cal.

I hope you enjoy A Southern Reunion. I’d love to hear from you. Please visit my website at www.lenoraworth.com and send me a message. I’d appreciate your feedback.

Lenora Worth

A Southern Reunion
Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times bestselling author Lenora Worth has written more than forty books for three different publishers. Her career with Love Inspired Books spans close to fourteen years. Her very first Love Inspired, The Wedding Quilt, won Affaire de Coeur’s Best Inspirational for 1997, and Logan’s Child won Best Love Inspired for 1998 from RT Book Reviews. With millions of books in print, Lenora continues to write for Love Inspired and Love Inspired Suspense. Lenora also wrote a weekly opinion column for the local paper and worked freelance for years with a local magazine. She has now turned to full-time fiction writing and enjoying adventures with her retired husband, Don. Married for thirty-five years, they have two grown children. Lenora enjoys writing, reading and shopping…especially shoe shopping.

To my darling Big Daddy, my husband Don.

You were the first person to ever read the original

version of this story. Thanks for sticking with me

for all these years.

We’ve come full circle.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER ONE

THREE THINGS HAPPENED the same week ready-to-wear designer Cassandra Brennan announced she’d be opening two more Cassie’s Closet boutiques in the metro Atlanta area.

She broke up with her fiancé, Ned Patterson.

Her estranged father sent word that he was dying and he wanted her to come home.

And once she arrived home, the man who had been her first love in high school walked out onto the front porch of Camellia Plantation with his arms around the woman who’d come between them. And he still looked good doing it, too.

The house hadn’t changed all that much in the past twelve years. But everything else certainly had.

Why was Cal Collins back at Camellia? And what was he doing with Marsha Reynolds? Last she’d heard, after Cassie had caught them together and broken up with Cal, things hadn’t worked out for Cal and Marsha after all. Too bad. And too bad they’d decided to take right back up on the very day she’d driven the four hours from Atlanta to get here.

Anxious to get inside and see her father, Cassie swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. She could do this. She had to do this.

Memories danced into her head, taunting her, some beautiful, some tragic. Cassie tried deep breathing, her breath stopping near her rib cage. The old camellia bushes, from which the plantation had gotten its name, grew with a lush abandonment all over the side yards and in front of the pool, their velvet pink blooms popping and exploding in the sun like clusters of chiffon.

She and Cal used to meet each other in the shadows of those tall, rich green bushes. Usually they’d sneak out at midnight after her parents had gone to bed. Cassie would leave by the French doors in her room that opened onto the upstairs porch and make her way down the outside staircase.

But everything had changed. In the blink of an eye, she lost her mother to a tragic horseback-riding accident, lost the man she loved to another woman and lost the father she’d always adored because of something she’d done or said during that horrible week.

Bracing herself, Cassie got out of her late model convertible and slammed the door hard enough to get the attention of the couple on the porch. She wanted to tell them to get a room. She wanted to scratch Marsha’s green eyes right out of her head. And she wanted to grab Cal by the collar and ask him why he’d hurt her so badly.

But she didn’t do any of those things.

A Brennan didn’t act like a redneck.

A Brennan held everything inside and was always, always civilized and polite. And she wouldn’t make a scene when her father lay dying just beyond that front door.

Cal turned then, his eyes meeting hers as he held a hand on Marsha’s bare arm. “Cassie.”

Cassie’s heart pumped against her ribs, trying to beat a path out of her body. Just hearing him say her name in that low drawl caused a hot chill to run over her. She thought about turning around and heading back to Atlanta. But she’d been running for way too long now. Her father needed her, even if he hated to admit that.

And she needed him. She’d been waiting far too long. She wouldn’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of this homecoming. Not even Cal Collins. So she stiffened her spine and held her head up high.

“Hello, Cal. Marsha—long time, no see. Looks like nothing much has changed around here.”

Cal didn’t say anything. He just stared at her long enough to make her sweat. But then, it was late spring in south Georgia. It was hot all the way around.

She stared right back at him, hoping her hurt and fear and confusion didn’t show in her eyes.

His dark hair hung in thick chocolate-colored chunks around his ears and neck. He looked the same but different, his cotton work shirt stretched across a broad back, his worn jeans low-slung and not too tight. When they’d parted they’d both still been in their teens.

Now she was looking at a full-grown man.

Would he see her as a woman?

“Well, if it isn’t the long-lost Cassie Brennan,” Marsha said on a smirk. “And looking like she stepped right out of some fancy fashion magazine.”

Marsha looked ready to explode, her red hair falling around her shoulders with the same vibrancy as the blooming camellias, her angry frown for Cal and only Cal. She’d gained a few pounds, but then Marsha had always had a healthy figure. The kind boys loved. Just like in high school. Just like the day Marsha had explained it all to Cassie, shattering what was left of her heart, after Cassie had caught the two of them together.

She was going to be sick, Cassie thought, her pulse sputtering out of control, her blood pressure rising. She might actually throw up. Sweat pooled down her back and across her chest, her white linen sundress wilting against her skin like bruised magnolia blossoms.

Had her father invited them here to remind Cassie of her one great sin? Well, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her sweat. So she continued on, one hand clutching her white leather purse, her stomach knotting and twisting in pain. But she couldn’t take her eyes away from the dark-haired man and the curvy redheaded woman. Memories of seeing them in just such a way long ago invaded her head.

This was certainly not the homecoming welcome she’d expected. Her life had changed forever. But Cal Collins was still the same. And he still got to her.

“I TOLD YOU, YOU NEED to leave.”

Cal stared down at Marsha, hoping she’d take the hint. He’d been trying to get her out of the house before Cassie showed up, but now it was too late. He wasn’t in the mood for a catfight. But both of these women, one cool and blonde and so in control and one ticked-off and redheaded and about to lose control, looked ready to go at each other.

This was a long-standing feud.

And obviously, he was still in the middle of it.

“I came to visit with Teresa, thank you,” Marsha said, hurt in her eyes. “I like to give her some of the fresh produce from my garden.”

Cal let go of her and put his hat on, adjusting it over his brow. “You still need to go. Hear me, Marsha?”

“I hear you. Don’t get all hot under the collar.”

Cal looked at the woman who tried to push his buttons and then he stared down at the woman he couldn’t have—the one who went beyond button pushing to fullthrottle. Then he lifted his head and sniffed, the scent of magnolias hitting his nostrils. The huge magnolia trees in the backyard weren’t blooming yet and Marsha didn’t wear magnolia-scented perfume.

But Cassandra Brennan always had.

He didn’t show it, but he took his dear sweet time watching Cassie standing on the bottom step, her blond hair curled around her chin in a thick sleek bob, her bare shoulders tanned and buff, her legs still long and curved in the right places. She held a pair of black sunglasses in one hand and wore a white dress with thick straps and a flared skirt. Her sandals glistened just as white as the crisp dress, a line of silver medallionlike studs marching up her foot in gladiator fashion. And the heels were killer high.

He couldn’t help it. His gaze slid down her body and back up to her red-lipped mouth. “I’m glad you’re home, Cassie.”

She lifted her fancy sunglasses and placed them on her head and flipped that cool bob. “Thanks.” Then she shot a questioning glance at Marsha, her expression caught between polite and haughty. “What’s going on?”

Marsha’s face sweated with a soft sheen that turned to a beet-red blush. “Not what you think.”

Cal glared at Marsha. She’d pushed her way into the back door earlier, probably to purposely cause a ruckus right here on the porch. “Marsha, you need to go.”

She eyed him. “I was just on my way.”

The redhead whirled like a tornado and stomped down the porch steps, her tight cut-off jeans barely meeting the hem of her pink T-shirt. She gave Cassie a thunderous look as she passed, then said over her shoulder, “Just a warning, Cassie. Some things around here aren’t the way they used to be. And I should know that better than anybody.”

Cal watched her traipse around the side of the house then heard a motor revving.

When Marsha’s battered red pickup peeled down the long driveway, leaving a trail of mad dust, Cassie took her shades off her head and turned her face up, her eyes glistening as blue as the sky behind her.

“You don’t let her park up front?” she asked as she swept up onto the porch.

He didn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t even sure he should answer that. Cassie had left behind this little town and this South Georgia plantation and she’d never looked back.

And he couldn’t ever look forward. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come back here to work for her father and torture himself with memories at every turn.

He let out grunt of a breath. “Marsha still thinks—”

“It’s obvious what she thinks. I don’t know why y’all didn’t go ahead and get married all those years ago.”

He gritted his teeth then inhaled a breath. “There was no baby. So there was no reason for me to marry her.”

Because he didn’t love Marsha.

Cassie touched a hand to her hair, but she appeared flabbergasted. “Okay, enough about old times. I’m a bit confused. What are you doing here?”

“You really are behind on the family news, aren’t you?” he asked, wondering how he was going to be able to stay here now that she’d come home. When Marcus had first come up with this plan, Cal’s gut had told him this was a very bad idea. Now his stomach burned with the proof of that. No use trying to hide the facts. “I work here.”

And that’s all he needed to say to set things straight. So he turned and walked in the direction of the small foreman’s cottage where he lived.

No, he wasn’t married to Marsha. He’d never been married to anybody. But he wouldn’t tell Cassie the whole ugly story. She didn’t care and it didn’t really matter. He’d only come back here as a favor to her sick father.

As a favor to the man who’d once told Cal he’d kill him if he ever set foot on this land again.

Sometimes Cal wished Marcus Brennan had made good on that threat.

CAL WORKED HERE. AGAIN? How? Why? None of this made any sense to Cassie. That little welcome-home scene on the front porch had left her shaking, but she got herself together enough to go through the double oak doors of the house she’d grown up in. Camellia Plantation had been in her family for over a hundred and thirty years. Her ancestors had bought it in 1880 and restored it after the ravages of the Civil War had caused the previous owner to take his own life—out under that infamous oak tree that hung over the driveway, as the legend went.

The same oak tree where her mother had died.

The same oak tree where Cal had kissed Cassie and promised her he’d always love her.

The oak tree had been here over three hundred years, its trunk and branches scarred and twisted. No wonder it was cursed. The big square house with the massive columns and wide wraparound porches on both floors had been in her family for a long time, passed down from generation to generation with a legacy that told many tales, her own parents being part of that. Her father was the last of the Brennans. If she didn’t marry and produce offspring, she would be the last once he was gone.

Since she wasn’t very good in the relationship department, there was little chance of Cassie ever becoming a wife and mother.

Maybe that was the reason she’d decided to come home. Because in spite of everything, this was her home. Lately, living in Atlanta had become unpleasant in spite of her growing fame as an up-and-coming fashion designer and the success of her downtown boutique aptly named Cassie’s Closet, in spite of the spiffy midtown loft she’d redecorated and spruced up herself. And in spite of her much-touted love life with lawyer and hotshot Atlanta businessman Ned Patterson.

Or maybe because of her love life, or lack thereof. She’d broken things off with her fiancé. But Ned hadn’t taken it very well. Cassie couldn’t blame Ned. She hadn’t loved him very well.

Then she remembered Cal’s eyes when he’d turned to look down at her there on the porch. Blue, a rich navy blue that bordered on velvet. Once a beautiful, loving blue that wrapped her in warmth. Now a hard cold blue that raked her with what looked like scorn and disdain.

Did he hate her that much?

Looking up the curving staircase, Cassie had to wonder if she’d gone from the frying pan to the fire, coming back here. Had she run away from one bad situation only to rush headlong into another one?

Hearing pots and pans being shuffled in the kitchen, she walked up the wide central hallway past the staircase, her heels clicking against the aged heart-of-pine floors, the smell of wisteria mixed with lavender wafting by and bringing memories that assaulted her with such clarity, she felt sixteen again.

“Hello?” she called, praying Cal would be long gone by now. Praying he wouldn’t make this any more difficult than it already was.

“Cassie, is that you?”

“Teresa, yes, it’s me.” She hurried into the kitchen to the left of the hallway, rounding the corner in time to see Teresa Jordan wiping her hands on a fluffy towel. “Hi.”

“Hi, honey.” Teresa opened her arms wide. “C’mon and give me a hug.”

Teresa had been with Cassie’s family since Cassie was a little girl. Her mother, Eugenia, and Teresa had been like sisters. Eugenia had introduced Teresa to Walt and had been matron of honor at their wedding here on the grounds. They’d never had children, but Cassie didn’t understand why Teresa had stayed after Eugenia, and later Walt, had died. Teresa was loyal to Marcus Brennan and even though they hadn’t communicated too much during recent years, Cassie sure was glad to see the woman now.

Cassie rushed into her arms, taking in the scent of Jergens lotion mixed with the smell of bacon grease and cornbread. Tears pricked at her eyes. This was what it felt like to be welcomed home. This was what she’d missed all of these years. These things and…being here with Cal, of course.

But she put that thought out of her head.

Teresa finally let her go then stood back, her brown eyes wide, her smile genuine. Pushing a hand through her short grayish-brown hair, she said, “Look at you. As pretty as ever. I saw your picture in People, you know. One of the up-and-coming designers of last year. Cassie’s Closet seems to be the thing these days. They carry your ready-to-wear in Belk’s and Dillard’s. I have two of your dresses that I wear to church. Lordy mercy, ain’t that something now.”

Cassie’s smile was shaky and shy. “Something, all right.”

She had last-minute promos to do for the fall line and paperwork for the production of next spring’s collection, not to mention finishing up the actual designs for the next season. The fashion industry dictated that she stay a couple of years ahead. Taking a breath, she willed her nerves to calm down. “I’ll have plenty to keep me busy while I’m here. But…I’m hanging in there.”

“And you’re good at it from what I see and hear.” Teresa pushed at Cassie’s hair. “How you doing, honey?”

“I’m not sure,” Cassie said, wondering how many more surprises she could handle. “How is he today?”

“Not good.” Teresa shook her head, tears springing up in her eyes. “I’m so glad he let me call you.”

“Me, too. But does he really want me here or did you force him into letting you call?”

“No, he wants to see you. He sure does. I think he’s decided it’s time to mend his ways and…let go of the past.”

“Can we do that, really?’

“We have to,” Teresa said. “Want to see him now, or would you rather freshen up and have some lunch first?”

“Now,” Cassie said, the thought of food turning her stomach. “Is he upstairs?”

“No, darlin’.” Teresa motioned to what used to be a big office-and-den combination at the back of the house. “We had to move his bed down here. He can’t make it up the stairs anymore.”

Cassie nodded, put down her purse and straightened her dress. When they got to the closed door of the den, she pivoted around, wishing she could bolt out of the house and hide in the stables the way she used to do when she was young and afraid.

That was how she’d met Cal face-to-face, after first seeing him from a distance…and keeping her own distance. He’d found her hiding in the stables late one fall afternoon. And after that, she hadn’t been nearly as afraid or lonely as before.

A lot had happened since then.

But she wouldn’t be scared anymore. She had a lot of questions.

Beginning with one.

“Teresa, after I visit with Daddy, I want you to explain to me what Cal Collins is doing back at Camellia.”

And why no one had bothered to warn her about that.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSIE ENTERED THE darkened room, her heart whispering a silent warning. The ceiling-to-floor windows across one wall of the big square room usually showed a panoramic view of the sloping backyard and the pool area. But today, the heavy beige drapes were drawn shut, causing patches of desperate sunshine to break through like lurking spotlights onto the high ceiling.

It took her a while to focus and get her bearings. The hospital bed had been set up in the corner where her father’s big oak desk used to be. The desk was gone but the sitting area remained the same, centered around the brick fireplace across from the bed. The row of bookshelves surrounding the fireplace remained full of volumes of various sizes and types, reminding Cassie of what a bookworm she’d always been in school.

Until that summer when Cal had brought her out of hiding and brought the world to her with all his talk of traveling and buying up land and…so many other dreams.

It felt surreal, being here in this room, hiding in darkness, shaking away in this atmosphere of sickness and death.

She didn’t want to advance toward the bed in the corner, toward the still, skeletal man lying in that bed. He didn’t look like the father she remembered.

Marcus Brennan had been larger than life—a rancher, a cowboy, a hunter and sportsman, a businessman and a gentleman with impeccable manners when around ladies and a brawling disregard when he went hunting or fishing with his cronies. He ruled this part of the state of Georgia and people either feared him or respected him.

At times, Cassie had felt both. Right now, she wasn’t sure what to feel, or what to say. So she just stood, her prayers centered on the next step. Then she heard her father’s voice for the first time in twelve years.

“Cassie?”

Cassie gulped back a silent sob. She wouldn’t cry now, not when she’d cried so many tears she’d probably be able to fill the Chattahoochee River. Not now, after she’d had to endure seeing Cal with her nemesis, Marsha, the woman who’d managed to break them apart even after Cassie’s powerful father had tried and failed.

Not now. Not now.

“Cassie, come over here and let me look at you.”

She advanced a step, then another, until she was at the foot of his bed. “Hello, Daddy.”

Marcus was propped up with pillows, his frail hand reaching toward her then falling away, back to the folds of the dark comforter covering his lower body.

“You came home.”

He said it in a way that ripped at her heart, his voice soft with yearning and awe. Had he expected her to ignore him?

“Yes, I’m here. How are you feeling?”

The cliché was the only thing that came to her mind, emerging through the unspoken, unasked questions that held her in a tight spasm of pain and fear.

His chuckle sounded like jagged rocks hitting against each other. “You see how I look. I feel about twice as bad as that. I guess I’m done for, girl.”

Cassie gripped the cold steel of the bed. “Teresa didn’t explain exactly what…what kind of illness you have. I’ve talked to several of your doctors since she called me regarding your health, but they didn’t want to discuss your medical condition with me.”

Another rumbling, hacking chuckle. “I’m dying. What does the rest matter?” He let out a rasping sigh. “I’ve drank too much, smoked too much, and seen and done too much. I have cancer and several other maladies with names longer than my seventy-nine vintage Cadillac.”

Cassie let that declaration take hold, willing herself to remain quiet and still. He appeared so fragile, so deathly, she was afraid to move, afraid her touch on his arm might shatter him. “I understand you have nurses?”

“Day and night. Draining me dry, too.”

Her father was a very rich man, so she doubted that. “Where is your nurse right now?”

“Told her to come later this afternoon. Wanted some time alone with you. They hover over me, drives me nuts.”

Cassie could only imagine that and pity the nurses who had to deal with Marcus Brennan. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to go back about fifteen years, is all.”

Don’t we all, Cassie thought, one single tear escaping down her face. Grabbing at courage, she moved around to the side of the bed. “Why am I here, Daddy? Why did you wait so long to call me home?”

“Why did you wait so long to come home?” he countered, his expression creased with frustration and too much time alone.

Cassie didn’t know how to answer that question. She’d called home time after time, especially during that first rough year of college. Teresa would take her messages but she’d never hear back from her father. After the first awkward, awful Thanksgiving and Christmas here when her father didn’t even bother to eat meals with her or exchange gifts, either, she’d swallowed back the pain of holidays spent alone or with friends, with long nights of worrying and praying for things she couldn’t have. After a few months, she’d given up, her heart breaking into brittle little pieces each time her messages were not returned.

“I’m here now,” she said, blinking back the stubborn tears. “I’m here, Daddy.”

Marcus gazed up at her, his shrewd brown eyes hollow and hard-edged, his mouth open in a rasping for each breath. “As pretty as ever.” He swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment. “You are the image of your mother.”

And that was why he’d hated her so much, Cassie realized.

CAL STOMPED INTO THE kitchen, searching, the scent of Cassie’s perfume lingering in the air like a low-hanging flower, teasing him while he searched for her.

“Where is she?”

The housekeeper who also served as his sometime-therapist and wise counselor said, “In with her daddy.”

“How is she?”

Teresa automatically filled a glass with ice and poured him some sweet tea. “Shaky. Confused. Wanting to know why you’re back here and why her daddy called her home.”

Cal lowered his head, his hand absorbing the condensation on the crystal glass. “Did you tell her anything?”

“Not yet. She went straight in. Poor girl. She looked so lost. It didn’t help one bit that Marsha decided to come calling today of all days. Did she know Cassie was coming home?”

“No. At least she didn’t hear it from me.” Cal took a long sip of his tea, the syrupy sweetness of it hitting the dry spot in his throat with a soothing rush. Then he put down the glass and stared at the melting ice. “This is hard for all of us.”

Teresa went back to wiping and putting things away. “Yep, I reckon it is. I should have warned her. I don’t like keeping things from her.”

“She wouldn’t have come if she’d known I was here.”

“And that’s why I didn’t tell her.”

That reality made Cal wince with a soul-deep pain but he fought it. He’d been fighting against it for so long now.

“Guess I’d better get back to work. I’ll check back in later.”

“You want to come for supper?”

He and Teresa had taken to eating their meals together, just in case Marcus took a turn for the worse. “No. I think it’d be better if I keep to myself for a while. Jack’s waiting for me in the east field. Soybeans need my attention today.”

Teresa didn’t say anything and her expression held no judgment. Maybe that was why Cal liked her and trusted her.

That and the fact that she was more like a mother to him than his own had ever been.

“Be careful out there,” Teresa said, as always. “Tell Jack to drink plenty of water.”

Teresa had a crush on the burly old field hand. As always, Cal saluted her. “It’s just tractors and dirt, Teresa. I think Jack and I can handle it.”

But they both knew managing a big plantation was about a lot more than tractors and dirt.

He turned toward the kitchen door that led out onto the back porch and came face-to-face with Cassie as she rounded the corner from the hallway. One look at her and his protective instincts picked right back up where they’d left off so long ago. “Are you all right?”

She reached toward the counter, her face pale and drawn, her eyes glazed into an icy blue. “No.”

The one word, whispered on a rushed breath, caused Cal to step forward and tug her close. “Here, sit down.”

She tried to push him away but he’d always been bigger and stronger. And she used to lean on him when she was afraid or tired.

She looked around, her eyes now wild. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not fine,” he said, guiding her to a high-backed chair by the window. “Teresa, can you bring her some water.”

He heard the faucet turning on, heard Teresa hurrying across the room. “Here, honey.”

Cassie looked up, her eyes turning the innocent blue of a confused hurt child. She took the water, sipped it for a minute, then handed it back to Teresa. “He’s really dying.”

Teresa shot a stern look toward Cal. “Yes, he is.”

Cassie glanced down at her hands. “I thought maybe it was just some kind of ploy, a trick to get me to come back. But he looks so sick. So small.”

Cal bent down in front of Cassie, forcing her to look at him. “He wanted you here but it took him a long time to admit it.” He shoved the glass of water back toward her. “He didn’t want to…go…with things the way they were between you two.”

She sipped the water then stared down at the glass. “Why didn’t he want me here while he was still alive enough to really spend time mending things between us? I would have come. I tried coming home, then when that didn’t work, I wrote to him, sent him cards, left messages. Then I gave up and got on with my life. But I would have been here if he’d only asked.”

Cal couldn’t explain that one. He’d often wondered the same thing. He knew why he wasn’t wanted here before now, but how could a man turn on his only daughter like that? Since returning, Cal had thought many times about calling her, but Marcus Brennan was a stubborn man. And Cal had to be honest. He’d been too bitter and hurt himself to ask Cassie to come back, especially when he knew she wouldn’t like being around him. And that she would hate him all over again when the truth came out.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “All I know is that he asked us to get you home and you’re here now.” He looked up at Teresa. “We’re all here. We have to do our best for him.”

She stared at him as if she didn’t know him at all. “And how long have you been back?”

He didn’t dare lie about that. “A few months. Since last fall.”

“What else are you two keeping from me?”

Teresa busied herself with cleaning off the counter and moving a bowl of fresh fruit into place. Not bothering to address Cassie’s last question, she said, “I thought it best you didn’t know about Cal. You didn’t call that much anymore and when you did, I just didn’t know what to tell you. Your daddy made demands and I abided by those demands.” Her shrug said it all. But Cal knew there was much more to all of this.

Cassie got up then, pushing past Cal, her hands tightening against the wide butcher-block island. “And I didn’t abide by his rules and his demands. So I got banished until…the bitter end. Until it was almost too late.”

Cal hadn’t planned on explaining his presence to her, but she deserved to know. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “Let’s go have a talk.”

Her frown held disbelief and distrust. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Lots.” He practically dragged her toward the back door.

Teresa called after them. “She needs to eat something. She didn’t have a bite of lunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cassie said on a grumbling breath, her eyes on Cal. “And I’d not ready for this.”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Cal held her elbow, urging her toward his cottage. “We’re going to get this over with here and now, Cassie.”

“Why? Whatever you have to say won’t change a thing.”

“It’ll explain a lot, though. I thought you wanted answers and explanations.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. This is between my daddy and me.”

He didn’t blame her for that. He’d lied to her once before and it had destroyed both of them. “I don’t care what you think about me, but you need to understand how things are around here now.”

She hurried toward the farmhouse cottage, pushing at camellia bushes as she went. “Yes, I guess it would be nice if someone would enlighten me about the status quo. I’ve had quite enough surprises for one day.”

Her silky, cultured Southern voice poured over him. Even spitting mad, she still had class. Which was only one more reason he should have stayed away from this place. Or left as soon as Marcus told him the real reason he wanted Cassie to come home.

But he’d stayed, of course. To see her again. To finish what he’d started. And to honor a dying man’s wishes.

Or so he told himself.

Taking her up onto the back porch, he pointed to a white rocking chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

He ignored her and went inside to search for something that would fill her up without making her sick. She’d always been a picky eater. Then he remembered she used to like yogurt. He didn’t have any of that, but he did have some ice cream. He grabbed the container out of the freezer then found a spoon and took it out to her.

Cassie stared up at the container, an amused look clearing away some of her disdain. “Butter-pecan ice cream? Are you serious?”

Glad to see her diva attitude kicking back in, he nodded. “Just take a couple of bites.”

“I rarely eat ice cream.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you try. I love it on a summer night.”

She glared at him then took the open container and the spoon. With a defiant dig, she scooped up a mound and shoved it into her mouth.

“See, not so bad, is it?”

She took another bite. “No. It slides down rather smoothly, unlike some of the preconceived notions I have about you.”

Ouch. He deserved that. “I know you don’t want me here, Cassie. But I’m not leaving. I’ve put too much into this place to leave now.”

She put down the ice cream and tossed the spoon onto the table by the chair. “And why exactly are you here, Cal?”

Cal took the ice cream back inside to the freezer then came out to sit on the porch rail in front of her. “Sometimes, I ask myself that same question.”

“I never expected to see you again,” she finally said, her tone so soft now he barely heard her words. “I’d forgotten how much you love ice cream.”

He stared down at her frowning, pouting face, remembering how he used to be able to kiss that pout right off her pretty lips. “Will you listen to me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to understand.”

She sat back in the rocking chair. “Okay, but I need to get back, so talk fast.”

Cal let out a long sigh. “After I left, I moved around a lot, working on farm after farm, doing whatever work I could find. Then I saw this little bit of land up north of here and bought it with borrowed money, thinking I’d settle down and farm for myself since I’d learned everything there was to know about growing food and producing livestock.”

She shot him a wry smile. “Does that include the load of manure you’re about to give me?”

“You said you’d listen.”

She started rocking again, her modern outfit a sharp contrast to the old-fashioned high-backed chair.

“After a couple of years, I made a profit so I bought the neighboring farm and added it to mine. And one thing led to another. I wound up owning a lot of land about fifty miles north of here. Well, actually the bank owns it but I’m making the payments.”

“Why didn’t you stay on your own place?”

He put a finger to his lips. “Listen.”

She rocked back and forth. “All right.”

His gaze hit hers and she looked away. “I was at a land-management seminar in Tifton last fall when I ran into your daddy.” He paused and let out a breath. “He looked like he didn’t feel good and I noticed he’d lost a lot of weight.”

She lowered her eyes then nodded. “Go on.”

“At first, we were kind of standoffish with each other but he finally approached me and told me he’d heard good things about my farm-management experience and how I’d acquired a lot of acreage. He was impressed. He told me the foreman he’d hired after Walt died wasn’t doing a good job and he’d been looking for someone he could trust to take over. Then he offered me the job of foreman for Camellia, right there on the spot. But I had my own land and I didn’t want to work for anyone else, especially him. A few weeks later, he called me and made another offer and told me he was sick. Since I wanted to pay off my land, I took him up on it. I rent out my land now and I work here. I get back up there once or twice a month, just to check on my workers.”

She stopped rocking. “So you’re telling me you turned your own land over to someone else so you could come back here and work for my father?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth. The rent money helps to pay down my mortgage and the money I’m making here helps me to fix up the place.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He stood up and leaned over her, holding his hands on both arms of the rocking chair. “I don’t really care whether you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”

She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes full of accusation and doubt. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense, Cal. My father is dying.”

“Yes, and he had just recovered from a heart attack when he offered me the job. He needed my help, Cassie.”

She went still again. “He had a heart attack?”

“Yes, but he made me swear not to call you. And since I didn’t think you’d talk to me anyway, I stayed out of it.”

“But you dropped everything and gave up your dreams to help my father?”

He got so close, he could see the light blue of her irises. “Yes, I did.”

“Why? What’s the real reason? I know you always had this dream of owning your own place and now you say you do. But why come back here, after the way my father treated you?” She stopped, took in a breath. “After what happened between us? Why would you even want to come back here?”

He hadn’t planned to tell her that but maybe she needed to know. “You, of course. I did it for you, Cassie.”

She inhaled a deep breath but she didn’t speak.

Then he stood up, his eyes centered on her. “That’s the truth. I did it because your daddy needed someone he could trust and because…you couldn’t be here. I did it to help a bitter old man, but mostly I came back for you.”

CHAPTER THREE

CASSIE STARTED LAUGHING.

Then she gulped in a deep breath, mortified that she’d let him get to her so quickly. She was laughing because this was so unbelievable. But she wanted to have a good long cry. Or maybe a good, long hissy fit. But a Brennan didn’t behave that way. She would show some backbone. Her pride wouldn’t allow anything less.

“Don’t tell me you’re doing this for me, Cal. How can you even think I’d fall for that? I didn’t know my father was ill or that you’d come back to work for him. And you’re not even married to Marsha. You don’t have a child with her. But you were with her again today, of all days. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about that over the years?” She stopped, shaking her head. “I imagined what your son or daughter would look like. Wondered why you didn’t marry Marsha.” And why he didn’t bother to come and find her. She leaned back in the chair. “Forgive me if I sound doubtful. I’ll need time to let this soak in.”

Cal touched a hand to the rocking chair. “Contrary to what you saw today, Marsha and I are history.”

“History?” Cassie felt sick to her stomach, the few bites of ice cream she’d managed to swallow churning through her insides like sour milk. “That scene out on the front porch looked pretty current to me.”

He jabbed a hand through his hair, his expression etched in anger and frustration. “She and Teresa keep in touch so she still comes around sometimes…thinking—”

“Thinking she’s the one, the way she told me a long time ago that she would always be the one you loved? That she would always be the one you turned to? Thinking maybe since you’re back here, and you and I are history that she’ll be able to take up with you again? Whether you were married or not, there’s a lot of history still brewing between you and Marsha, I think.”

And the one jarring realization of that was that he hadn’t even cared enough to find Cassie and tell her the truth. He hadn’t even tried to fight for what they’d had together. Or what she’d thought they’d had. But then, neither had she.

“You never bothered to find out what happened,” he said, slinging the words at her as if he’d read every thought in her head. “You just left, Cassie. You never looked back and you never tried to find me. So don’t go accusing me.”

Hurt and feeling as if she were seventeen again, Cassie moved off the porch. She wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt she’d seen in his eyes. It couldn’t be real. “I don’t have to accuse you, Cal. I caught the two of you together, remember?”

He looked down at her then shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” She started walking away, her heart so heavy it was hard to breathe. Then she turned back. “I came home because my father asked me. But while I’m here, maybe you and I need to keep our distance. And maybe Marsha should stop personally delivering produce. Especially since we have a garden of our own.”

With that, she whirled and stomped back toward the main house, all the while remembering the nights long ago when she’d run barefoot at midnight out here amid the camellias and roses to find Cal waiting underneath an old live oak draped in Spanish moss. Remembering how he’d take her into his arms and kiss her over and over until she thought she’d die from loving him and wanting him.

I didn’t die, she told herself as she hurried toward the mansion. I survived and I left.

But her heart had certainly died. She’d gone on to college, burying her hurt in her studies, working at any job she could get, hoping to find a way to get past her mother’s death and her father’s cold, uncaring attitude.

And Cal. She’d been trying for years to get past the hurt of Cal’s betrayal.

Now that she was back and had seen him in action again, maybe she’d be able to finally accomplish that. Somehow.

CAL WATCHED HER GO, wishing he could call her back and take her into his arms. Wishing he could make her see that he’d never stopped loving her and that he’d never wanted to hurt her. But how could he convince Cassie that he had not and did not love Marsha? It was way too late to make excuses for that now. Now, he had to keep this place intact and solid so she’d inherit more than a bankruptcy notice. He’d made a promise to her dying father and he aimed to keep that promise. For Cassie’s sake.

Even if he’d never be able to explain that to her.

Cassie had made a name for herself and was rumored to be one of the most successful women under thirty in Georgia now that her design business had taken off. But the mounting debts on Camellia Plantation could wipe her clean if he didn’t finish what he’d started. He wouldn’t tell her the truth. Marcus had to be the one to do that. Marcus had made both Cal and Teresa promise not to discuss his situation with anyone unless he gave them permission. Teresa had agreed because after her husband’s death, her job here was the only thing she had left.

And Cal had agreed because he couldn’t walk away from a dying man’s last request. And he couldn’t walk away from Cassie a second time, even if she’d walked away from him. He wanted Marcus and his daughter to reconcile before it was too late. He wanted Cassie to be able to return to the home she’d always loved, knowing that her father had finally forgiven both of them—and himself.

Cal would work day and night to make sure this plantation didn’t get auctioned off to the highest bidder. Marcus wanted this place to stay in Cassie’s hands. That much was evident.

And Cal was here to make sure that happened. Somehow.

Cassie’s manners had shielded him from the worst of her pent-up anger. He didn’t care as long as she was here and safe. Before Cal had agreed to take this job, he’d forced Marcus to promise that he’d reconcile with Cassie. That was all Cal really wanted and the main reason he’d agreed to come back here in the first place. It had taken several months of weeding through the financial mess and the depths of Marcus’s sickness to convince Marcus he needed to honor that promise before it was too late.

And then, Marcus had come back at Cal with an ultimatum. One that had left Cal reeling. One that would only work if Cassie agreed to it. Which she most certainly wouldn’t.

But she was here now, good or bad. It was a start.

Cal would settle for that, at least. And he’d do his best to save this plantation.

Because he knew what he really wanted couldn’t happen.

He’d never have Cassie back in his arms again.

CASSIE STEPPED OUT OF THE shower and draped a big, fluffy white towel around her body. Her room had been redecorated to look updated and fresh but the memories remained, dark and misty and edged in a lacy haze of pain. But somebody had remembered how much she loved the color green. Probably Teresa.

The cherry-wood four-poster bed had been in her family for generations and was as solid as the day it had been hand-built. A bright green-and-peach floral comforter matched the dainty green brocade chaise lounge sitting near the French doors that opened out onto the upstairs gallery. Bright red, green and peach cushions lay against the chaise and across the shams on the bed. A mint-green chenille throw also lay across the chaise.

The matching mahogany dresser and vanity were also antique, but polished to a high sheen. The sweet fresh scents of lemon oil and vanilla merged with Cassie’s magnolia-blossom shower gel to make the big square room smell like a summer garden.

She walked barefoot across the plush cream carpet, her toes digging into the heavy threads. When she reached the big double windows that looked out onto the backyard, she remembered the first time she’d seen Cal. She’d been standing right out there on the porch, but her room had been done up in deep pinks, bright greens and crisp white back then, with a rose-and-camellia motif mixed in with rock-star posters and cheerleading memorabilia.

But on that summer day, she’d forgotten all of her teenage dreams as she stood watching Cal strolling up the dirt lane from the stables, guiding a beautiful chestnut gelding. He’d been dressed in the standard jeans and T-shirt that he always wore when working. His dark hair had been longer and curling around his face and forehead. When he’d stopped and looked right up at her, Cassie had felt like the princess in the tower waiting for her forbidden prince. After that, their relationship had taken on a dreamy fairy-tale kind of intensity.

But her fairy tale had not ended happily ever after.

And she’d learned that Cal Collins was no prince, even if the gelding he was escorting had become her own prized horse—aptly named Heathcliff, after the character in one of her favorite classic books, Wuthering Heights.

Cassie closed her eyes now, swallowing back the sweet desire she remembered from that day. It wasn’t so much a physical desire, even though Cal certainly won out over all of the bad-boy rock stars she had plastered on the wall. It was more of a desire to find out who this man was, to ask him how he’d found his way to Camellia Plantation. Sheltered and pampered, she longed to get to know the mysterious older boy who had not come from any of the neighboring plantations and farms, a boy who hadn’t gone to prep school with her or driven some fancy sports car bought with his daddy’s old money. She wouldn’t find Cal Collins at the cotillion or any of the debutante balls.

In other words, Cal represented everything she’d been sheltered from and protected from—the real world.

And Cassie so wanted to break away and find that real world. But reality wasn’t so exciting after the way their summer had ended.

And now, her reality was centered on watching her estranged father die and finding out why Cal was really back here. She wasn’t buying that he’d returned for her sake. They’d both moved on with their lives after that long-ago summer. And there was no going back. Ever.

Her cell phone rang, causing her to whirl and patter over to the rolltop desk on the far wall, where she’d left her big leather tote bag and her sketch pads.

Looking down at the number on the phone, Cassie grimaced. Ned Patterson. When would her ex figure out that they were finished? Why couldn’t she love him the way he deserved to be loved? Pushing thoughts of Cal away, she ignored the incoming call. Ned was dreamy and debonair, everything a woman could ask for. But theirs had been a chaotic kind of relationship. Cassie had finally ended things, which she’d needed to do a long time ago. Because she didn’t want to marry Ned.

Was her love life destined for self-destruction with every man she met?

Cassie threw down the phone, determined to put Ned—and Cal…for now—out of her mind. She hurried back into the big bathroom with the claw-foot tub and the old marble vanity, combed out her hair and threw on the barest of makeup. After drying her hair, she put on a white button-up shirt and skinny jeans with a pair of black flats then gathered her courage to return downstairs.

But what would she do while here? She stopped to stare down at her phone, thinking it looked out of place on the century-old desk. Did she dare sit with her father and try to talk to him? She had plenty of work to keep her busy and a whole slew of phone messages to wade through, some regarding business, some from concerned friends and…that one from Ned.

She deleted Ned’s message right away. She didn’t need to listen to his pleas or his promises anymore. Next, she called her assistant, Rae.

“Cassie, how are you?”

Rae’s deep rich voice always soothed Cassie. They’d met in college at the University of Georgia in their freshmen year. Rae, a soulful expression on her cocoa-colored face, had taken one look at Cassie and become her mentor and soul mate.

“Girl, you look like you are as lost as a little kitty cat,” Rae had said at the time.

“I am,” Cassie had responded. Then she’d burst into tears.

Over coffee in a nearby coffeehouse, she’d blurted out all of her woes, including her mother’s horrid death and her father’s silent treatment and finding the man she loved in the arms of another woman. And Rae Randolph had listened and advised and suggested and…become a fast friend. On those days when Cassie wanted to give up, especially the holidays, Rae had been her rock. Following those awkward attempts to go home during her freshman year, she’d spent most of her holidays and summers with Rae’s family in Atlanta.

Rae’s mother, Louise, had helped Cassie get a summer job in a fashionable Buckhead department store. And since Rae’s mother sewed most of their clothes, Cassie was allowed to use them for models for her own designs. She learned how to be an expert seamstress under Louise Randolph’s keen eye. That experience had helped her become a better designer.

After college, they remained friends, both seeking work within the fashion industry. Rae had been there when Cassie sold her first designs in trade shows and obscure boutiques. So it was only natural that Rae would become her head assistant and confidante and advisor when Cassie finally branched out on her own three years ago with Cassie’s Closet.

“I’m okay, Rae Rae,” Cassie said now, wishing she could have brought Rae with her. “It’s been so hard, coming back, facing my father. He’s sick—much worse than I realized.”

“I think you’re in the right place,” Rae responded, her signature hoop earrings jingling through the airwaves. “You can’t let him pass on without making amends and forgiving, girl.”

Rae had a way of stating the truth in soft, flowing euphemisms. She’d never tell Cassie her father was dying. No, he was just passing on. Passing on to somewhere with no pain and no regrets, according to Rae’s reassuring words when Cassie had first received the call regarding his illness.

“Rae, Cal is here, too.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, exactly. Cal Collins is back here, working for my father. He’s the plantation foreman, which means he’s pretty much running the whole show.”

“Get outta here.”

“I wish I could. He’s here and he’s single. He never married Marsha. They never had a child together. Can you believe that?”

“I mean,” Rae said, louder this time, “get outta here and tell me that so ain’t happening.”

“It’s happening, all right. We’ve already had a fight of sorts. I was a bit mean to him, but seeing him here again had me so flustered I don’t remember what I said.”

“Oh, now, Cassie, you need to just stay away from that man. Don’t provoke him. It won’t work.”

“Don’t I know it,” Cassie said. She paced across the bedroom and sank down on the chaise, memories of all the great books she’d read while sitting here merging with all the memories of Cal she’d tried to bury forever. “I just can’t figure out why he’d come back here after everything that happened.”

“Yeah, like your daddy telling him to get lost and like you seeing him with that redheaded floozy right after he promised to stick by you and love you no matter what?”

“I can’t believe he’s here,” Cassie said. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“I can’t believe y’all are there together,” Rae added. “You know Mama Louise is going to freak, right? So what’re you gonna do now?”

Cassie could just see Rae’s mother rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m going to work on making sure my inventory is updated and my fall and spring lines go into production and then I’ll focus on my future collections, all the while staying near my father. I’m going to meet with his doctors and get the real story and I’m going to do a thorough review of everything that’s going on around here, starting with my father’s holdings and assets and ending with a long talk with him regarding the future of this place. And while I’m at it, I’m going to forget that the man who broke my heart is now back in my life.”

“It’s like déjà vu all over again.”

“Yes, it is. I’m not so sure I can go through this again,” Cassie said, tears springing to her eyes. “It was horrible when my mother died but Cal was there to help me through that.” Even if he had betrayed her a few days later.

“And now he’s there to help you through this, maybe?” Rae asked.

Cassie sat straight up, her mind whirling like a tilling blade. “He did tell me he came back here for me, but I didn’t believe him.”

“You think maybe he’s trying to make amends?”

“No. He was with Marsha when I arrived. Right there on the front porch, at that.”

“What? And you let him stay on after that?”

“He claims things are over between them, but he never explained how that whole marriage-and-a-baby thing never happened. I still don’t know what to believe.”

“Oh, this is getting better and better.” Rae let out a huff of breath. “Maybe he came back because he knew you’d come home, what with your daddy’s condition and all. He must want to see you again in a bad way.”

“Well, he had to agree to this for some reason. He claims he’s here to help my father and he is good at his job. He was always good at dealing with the land and the livestock and the million things that can go wrong on a working farm. But he had to leave his own farm to come back here. I just don’t get it. Why would he choose this place over the one he’s obviously worked so hard to acquire for himself?”

“But he told you he’d come back for you?”

“Yes, but maybe that’s just an excuse, a cover. I don’t know why he’s here and I don’t care. Let’s change the subject. Anything urgent I need to handle?”

“No, nothing. Everything is going smoothly here. We got the mock-ups for the ads we placed in the spring issues of Vogue and Marie Claire and we’re all set for the fall show at the Atlanta Trade Center. Well, as all set as we can be, barring the models show up and the designs work. You just need to create some great, gorgeous pieces for the next few seasons’ collections, okay?”

“I’m afraid with the mood I’m in, my collection might be more Gothic than gorgeous.”

“How about gorgeous Gothic then? Use all that angst to create your designs. Go with the Wuthering Heights factor.”

Cassie thought of flowing linen top coats and wispy dresses and skirts, maybe with cashmere sweaters and draping wraps. Rae knew all about Cassie’s fascination with the Brontë sisters.

“Good idea,” she told Rae. “Maybe with a little steam-punk thrown in. I’ll get back to you. Right now, let’s go over some of the things I have on my urgent list.”

After a half hour of work details, Cassie finished the call. “I think that’s it for now. I’ll set up a video conference with the whole team once I get my bearings. And remember, no one else needs to know where I am, especially Ned.”

“Got it,” Rae said. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Cassie smiled into the phone. “I will. You, too. Call me and keep me posted.”

“Same here, darlin’. And hey, you know I can send Mama down there in a flash.”

“I appreciate that, but I have to handle this myself.”

Cassie disconnected, determination overcoming her fears now that she’d had a heart-to-heart with Rae. Work and her daddy, those were her goals for now. Those and trying not to think of Cal living down in that two-bedroom foreman’s cottage right out past the garden proper.

He’d always been just out of her reach. Nothing about that would change now.

She got up and opened the French doors then walked onto the broad wraparound gallery to look out over the sloping garden and the fields and pastures beyond. Camellia Plantation covered close to a thousand acres, some of that in cash crops such as corn, soybeans and peanuts, some in pastureland and pecan trees and the rest in forests and woods that hunters paid to lease so they could roam around during hunting season. Her home was vast and all-encompassing and worth millions.

As she made her way downstairs, that thought hung over Cassie’s head like a dark cloud. Millions. Millions of dollars and thousands of acres. Prime real estate in fertile, lush southwest Georgia, made for cash crops and hunting leases and fishing lakes and pastures for livestock and horses.

And it would all be hers after her father died.

Unless, of course, he’d decided to cut her out of his will.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her mind whirling. She didn’t want to lose the land or this house, but she didn’t care about the money. Maybe somebody else here did.

Then instead of going into the kitchen to find Teresa, or turning toward her father’s sick room, Cassie headed out the back door, searching for the white Chevy pickup she’d seen parked by Cal’s house. But she didn’t need to find the truck.

She saw the man himself down by the stables. He didn’t notice her as he entered the big open barn. Cassie wanted to finish their earlier conversation.

Hurrying down the dusty lane, Cassie almost trotted toward the big red barn where her father kept several workhorses. As she entered the stable, she blocked out the memories of her clandestine meetings here with Cal and the memory of her father shooting her beloved horse, Heathcliff, after the nervous gelding had spooked and thrown her mother to her death out underneath that old oak near the driveway.

But she couldn’t block out the rush of warring feelings crashing throughout her system. “Cal?” she called, the smell of horses and hay assaulting her. “Cal, where are you?”

“In here,” he called from the tack room, his head sticking out, his expression full of surprise and wariness. “What is it? Is Marcus okay?”

Cassie shook her head, her earlier anger boiled down to simmering. “It’s not that. He was sleeping last time I checked. I need to ask you something.” She pivoted toward the door of the small office. “And I need an honest answer.”

“Sure.” Cal came to lean a shoulder on the doorjamb, his eyes sweeping over her before his gaze settled on her face. “What is it?”

She met him face-to-face, her dry throat giving her time to compose herself. “Did you come back here for me, or did you come back here for this plantation?”

He lifted off the jamb, his wariness changing to disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.” She pushed against a stall, leaning back. “My father is dying. There’s a lot at stake here. You always wanted a place like Camellia and you two were close before…before everything fell apart. So close that he often talked about letting you take over one day. So tell me the truth, Cal. Did you come back to take over this plantation and make it your own?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU JUST DON’T GIVE up, do you?”

Cal waited for Cassie to answer the question, hoping it would deflect the one she’d just thrown at him. He couldn’t be the one to explain things to her. She’d take the information and turn on him. And how could he blame her? He’d vowed to never come back, so he did look suspicious. Wishing he’d defied Marcus and at least warned her, he figured even that might have backfired. If she’d known he’d be waiting for her, she wouldn’t have come home. He had no doubt of that. And she needed to be with her father, if for nothing else then to hear the truth from Marcus. Even Marcus deserved to die with everything off his chest. So now Cal stood and felt the force of her suspicions sizzling over his system.

“Give up?” She pushed off the stall and stood close, her blue eyes shooting fire. “I had to give up. I had to leave and start over on my own. I had nothing, Cal. Nothing and no one. So I reinvented myself, or rather, I found myself. I worked hard and I didn’t come begging to anybody back at Camellia Plantation. My father paid for my education, but I paid for my sins. Over and over.”

Her hand fisted against her chest. “Me, Cal. By myself. I did give up for a long time, but I’m back and I need to know the truth. I have a right to ask questions now, don’t I? So do me a favor and answer me. Don’t you think you owe me that at least?”

She stopped, heaving a great breath, her cheeks high with color, her expression still consumed with shock and confusion.

“I need some answers, Cal. I’ve held things inside for a long time now. I’m trying to understand. I need to understand.”

Cal dropped the papers he’d been planning to go over. He couldn’t give her the answers she needed. But the guilt of letting her go without a fight long ago festered in his soul like a disease. Why had he allowed Marcus to do this to her? To do this to their love? Why hadn’t he fought harder for her?

But his hands were tied. He’d promised Marcus. And he’d protected Cassie. He was still protecting her. “You need to talk to your father. He’s the one who hired me and he’s the one who summoned you home.”

“Summoned? That’s a good word for it.” She paced and then looked around as if she’d just realized where she was, the fire in her eyes changing to a smoldering awareness. “Summoned back to my own home and only because it’s the end and he doesn’t want to die with our nonexistent relationship on his conscience. You know, I almost didn’t come home. But I couldn’t live with myself, thinking of him being so sick, so alone. I had to come on the hope that he’d forgive me for whatever I did, not so much to give him any kind of peace, but to make me feel better. That sounds selfish and horrible, but it’s the truth. I don’t understand my father, but I need him to forgive me. Does he still hold it against me, this thing that happened with you and me? Or is there more that I don’t know? Does he ever talk to you about any of this?”

Cal didn’t know what to say since Marcus had never truly confided in him. But he’d pretty much figured the rest out. What could he say? He’d come back here for so many reasons, but only she mattered. He could deny that all day, but the truth shadowed him the same way the scent of magnolias haunted him.

“He talks to me about the plantation. Business-type things that he’s worried about. He’s never once mentioned us or anything else that happened before you left.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Marcus had talked to Cal a lot about the past and the future. But he wasn’t ready to go there with her. One more topic Marcus would have to bring up, because Cal sure wasn’t.

Marcus had talked about a lot of things, including Cassie and Cal. At least when he was coherent. Cal couldn’t tell her about the confused rants and unknowingly blurted confessions. Or the grand idea her sick daddy had presented.

“You mean my mother’s death,” she said, taking up the conversation when Cal had sputtered to silence. “That’s when everything changed. I thought he was angry because he’d found us together but there was something else. That’s when he turned against me. He found her dead and then he shot my horse and after that day he caught you with me, he’d hardly even look at me. What did I do?”

He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her she didn’t do anything. Marcus Brennan was a miserable old man who’d treated everyone around him with disdain and demands. He wanted to tell her that he hated what he’d done to her. But he didn’t have all the answers even if he’d pieced things together enough to understand. But if he’d guessed right, it would destroy her.

“I don’t have the answers, Cassie. I swear to you, I don’t know why he treats people the way he does, especially you. I try to steer away from anything that upsets him.”

She whirled, her hand going to her mouth. “In other words, he never talks about me? Because I upset him, right? Maybe I should have stayed in Atlanta.”

Cal came around the desk then, his hands fisted at his side so he wouldn’t touch her. “No, you need to be here. That much I can tell you. He made sure of that, Cassie. You want answers, well, then, go talk to Marcus. Make him explain things to you. That’s the only way you’ll ever understand.”

She looked at him, her eyes widening. “You do know something but you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“It’s not my place.”

She put her arms across her chest. “I think you’ve already answered me. I remember enough about you to consider that you’d find this place extremely lucrative. Add this property to what you’ve acquired over the years and it all makes sense. You could finally establish yourself as one of the most powerful landowners in southwest Georgia. I want to believe you came back here to help me, but you’d certainly have a good reason to want revenge, too. I just have to decide which. And I’m gonna need some time to make up my mind.”

With that, she turned and pranced out of the stable, her silhouette darkened by the late afternoon sunshine.

The light from that brightness, pitched against the shadows of dusk, hurt Cal’s eyes. She had a point. He’d thought of a lot of reasons for accepting Marcus Brennan’s offer. And revenge had crossed his mind a time or two. But so had the possibility of finally making amends for breaking Cassie’s heart.

CASSIE OPENED THE DOOR to the dark study. The nurse sitting with her father nodded to her then got up to meet her.

“He’s sleeping, Miss Cassie. But it’s almost time for his dinner if you’d like to stay and talk while I feed him.”

“I’ll feed him,” Cassie said, the words sounding strange on her tongue.

Having to spoon-feed her once-proud father caused a giant lump to form in her throat. How had she let it come to this? She should have forced her way back into his good graces years ago. But she’d been too hurt to think beyond getting away from this place and the condemnation and hatred she’d seen in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” the nurse asked, her eyes full of sympathy and understanding. “My shift’s over at five-thirty so I can do it.”

Cassie glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. “That’s another hour. Why don’t you go on home? I’ll stay with him until your relief comes.”

“I’m not supposed to leave him without permission. Usually Teresa or Mr. Collins makes that call.”

Cassie’s anger resurfaced but she couldn’t blame the aide for doing her job. “I’m his next of kin and I say it’s okay. You can go and I’ll stay with him until the shift changes. Don’t worry, I’ll take full responsibility.”

Her father stirred at the whispered voices. “Gennie?”

The aide gave Cassie an apologetic shake of the head. “He’s always asking for her. Your mother?”

Cassie nodded, her silence holding back the dam on her emotions. Glancing at her father’s struggle with the covers, she whispered, “Go ahead and tell Teresa to prepare his dinner. I promise I’ll stay with him. I need to get used to doing this. I’ll go over his medication with the night-shift aide.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The woman gathered her things and went out the door, quietly closing it behind her.

“Who’s there?” Marcus tried to sit but fell back against the pillows.

“It’s me, Daddy.” Cassie hurried to the bed and stopped him from pulling the breathing tube out of his nose. “It’s Cassie. Just calm down.”

“Where’s your mother? I saw her. I saw her right over there.”

Shock jolted Cassie into action. “Daddy, it’s okay. No one’s here but me. I told your aide to go home. Teresa is bringing your dinner. Are you hungry?”

He seemed to realize he was in this room at this time. His eyes went from a vacant stare to a more lucid clarity. “I must have been dreaming. I thought you were your mother.” He shrank back into the pillows, his disappointment heavy in the air. “I forgot that she’s dead.”

Cassie couldn’t speak. The depth of his grief ate at her with a stinging that felt like fire ants biting into her skin. She’d allowed this to happen. She’d stayed away, hating herself, and hating the man he’d become. She’d let this estrangement rip them apart and now it had made her bitter and distrustful and her father so ill and grief-stricken he was dying a slow, horrible death.

He opened his eyes to stare up at her. “Cassie-girl, you came home. I’m so glad.”

Cassie inhaled a gulping breath. “Are you, Daddy?”

“Of course I am, girl. I told ’em to call you home. I have a lot to discuss with you. Not much time.”

She wondered if Cal already knew what her father wanted to talk to her about. She’d just have to keep digging until she found out. “What do you want to tell me?”

He let out a shuddering cackle. “So much. Too much.”

Cassie found a chair and pulled it up to the bed. “I’m here now, Daddy. You can tell me whatever you want.”

But did she want to hear everything he had to tell?

CAL CAME IN THE BACK DOOR and turned toward the long, sunny kitchen on the right. Teresa was in her usual spot in the little sitting room by the breakfast nook, watching the evening news. Her apartment was next to the sitting room. “Hey,” she said, never taking her eyes off the television. “Looks like rain tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Right now he didn’t really care about the peanuts and corn. “Time for his tray?”

She got up. “It’s on the stove.” She went over and pulled the foil off the mashed potatoes and tiny chunks of beef stew and gravy. “Cal, Cassie’s in there with him. She sent the day nurse home.”

Cal braced his hands on the long butcher-block counter. “She came to see me in the stables, wanting to know what’s going on. I can’t tell her so I hope he explains things.”

Teresa glanced across the wide central hall. “But he doesn’t realize—”

“I know that.” He lowered his head. “If I tell her the truth, she’ll go ballistic and think I cooked up this whole scheme. I’m hanging on by a thread here, Teresa.”

Teresa put the tray in front of him. “We don’t have a whole lot of time left. Before that man dies, the truth has to come out, and I mean all of the truth. That’s why you’re here. You can help her. You can make her understand.”

“Like I did last time when she needed me and…I wound up hurting her?”

Teresa leaned over the counter, her whisper carrying through the high-ceilinged house. “No, this time you won’t hurt her. You had your reasons back then. This time, you’ll stay and show her the man you’ve become.”

Cal hoped he could do that. “But what if she doesn’t stay? What if she leaves again?”

Teresa wiped her hands down her apron. “Then you’ll go after her, Cal. This has to end, one way or another.”

The door across the way opened and closed and Cassie came into the kitchen. She looked at Cal then turned to Teresa. “Is that my father’s dinner tray?”

Teresa nodded. “I was about to let Cal bring it in to you, honey.”

Cal reached for the food tray, but Cassie tugged it away. “I’ve got it.”

“I’ll sit with you, if you want,” Cal offered, hoping to find some common ground. “No, thanks.”

With that, she lifted the tray and walked back across the hall.

Cal glanced over and realized the door was shut so he rushed to open it for her. Their eyes met but her expression never yielded. She went into the room, leaving him to close the door.

Teresa lifted her chin toward the stove. “Your dinner is ready if you want to eat now.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cal said. “I’ll come back later.”

He walked out onto the back porch, the crisp gloaming hitting him with a refreshing burst. He wasn’t sure he could do this. How was he supposed to stay here and run this place knowing Cassie was around day in and day out?

I’ve made a deal with the devil, he thought. Marcus Brennan always had some sort of deal up his sleeve. And this one was a real kicker.

But he’d made the deal, taking a big risk, so he could see her again and hopefully make up for the past. Well, that day had come and now he wished he’d just stayed up the road on his own place. He’d been content there, happy to work his land in solitude. He could leave now and go back to that solitude.

But then, he’d be leaving Cassie with a mess on her hands and a dying father on her conscience. He couldn’t do that even if she did think the worst of him.

So he stood and watched the sunset settling over the pines and pastures, his memories as golden and glistening as the rays falling across the distant corn fields. He remembered the first time he’d seen Cassie standing up on the second-floor porch, her long blond hair tumbling around her face, her expression haughty and full of dare. He’d pegged her for the spoiled princess, a rich girl who had a powerful father.

Forbidden and out of his reach.

He’d fallen for her right then and there.

Then he remembered finding her later in the stables, tears running down her face, her vulnerable angst over hearing her parents fight making her even more desirable because she needed him.

Their first kiss out underneath that old oak tree had been magical, like a soothing balm. It had brought him home to a place he’d been searching for all of his life.

He wanted to be back at that place. But he didn’t know how to find it again. Cassie had grown up in the years she’d been away. It was obvious she was a sophisticated woman who’d done things her own way. Maybe she’d outgrown those intense feelings they’d shared back then.

While he’d been standing in the same spot, waiting to rekindle something that could never be.

The back door banged open. “Cal, we need to talk.”

He turned to find her standing there, her eyes dark with a boiling rage. “What is it this time?”

“My father told me that I need to talk to you about the future of this plantation. What did he mean by that?”

Cal let out a long sigh. “What else did he tell you?”

She stalked to the porch railing. “Not much. I tried to get him to eat but he kept pushing me away.” Her shoulders slumped. “He seemed desperate to explain things, but maybe not sure what to do or say. He got upset and told me to leave. He told me to find you and come back in there.”

Cal rubbed a hand down one of the massive columns supporting the house. “Welcome to my world, darlin’. Some days he makes perfect sense. Other times he rambles and gets so agitated, we have to give him a pill to settle him down. It took me months to figure out the records and books.”

Cassie placed her arms across her chest. “Is that what he’s talking about?”

“Part of it.” He glanced back inside. “If you’ll come to the cottage with me, I can show you everything. All the files are in my office and on my laptop.”

She shook her head. “I have to wait for the night nurse. Let me go back in with him for a few minutes, okay? Maybe he’ll forget that he wanted to see both of us.”

“Okay. I’ll wait in the kitchen. Teresa has dinner ready. Did you eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Cassie, you have to eat.”

“I’ll grab something later.”

She opened the door, waiting for him. “Are you coming?”

He followed her. “It’s not like he and I haven’t gone over and over this. Sometimes, he comprehends things and sometimes he’s just not listening.”

“I noticed that,” she said, her head down, her expression grim. “He thought I was my mother when I first went in. Go ahead and eat and then come in. Maybe he’ll talk with both of us there and tell us what’s bothering him.”

He took her by the arm. “I have a better idea. Let Teresa sit with him a few minutes and you try to eat something, too.”

Teresa came out of the kitchen. “It’s on the stove and still warm. The sooner y’all eat, the sooner I can go to my room and rest.”

Cassie was too polite to make Teresa wait around to clean the kitchen. “Go ahead now. I’ll clean up.”

Teresa glanced toward the study door. “I’ll sit with him until the night nurse shows up. You need to eat your dinner.”

Cal watched Cassie’s face. She wanted answers right now. How could he explain all the workings of this place and make her see he was busting his tail to save it? Maybe it was time to just lay all the cards on the table and be honest. About the plantation, at least. But not about Marcus Brennan’s other ridiculous death-bed wish.

The exhaustion etching her face stopped him.

“Listen, you’re tired and it’s been a long day. Try to eat then we’ll go in and see him. After that you need to go upstairs and rest. We’ll start over fresh tomorrow. And I’ll be as honest as I can, about everything.”

He wouldn’t tell her about his own part in this, about all the things she didn’t know about her parents and what had happened on that fateful day so long ago.

What else could he do? He’d made the decision to go along with Marcus Brennan last desperate attempt to get his daughter back. Cal couldn’t stop it now. But he could tell her the truth regarding her heritage.

She would hate him even more, but he had to take that chance.

“Cassie, will you eat and then rest?”

She finally nodded. “I’ll rest after we visit him again, just to make sure he’s okay.”

“We’ll do that,” Cal replied, hating the defeat in her voice.

A few minutes later, they both sat staring at their half-eaten meals. Cal had talked to her about mundane things—the crops, the weather, a new foal that had just been delivered two days ago. She asked him about his mother—a subject he didn’t like to talk about.

Teresa came out of Marcus’s room. “I can’t get him to eat.”

“I’ll try,” Cal said, getting up.

“No.” Cassie pushed ahead of him. “Let me.”

Cal followed her into the room. “How ’bout we work together on it?”

She shrugged. “We can try.” Then she moved ahead of him into the room. “But the only way we can work together is to be honest with each other.”

Did she see it in his eyes? That he was holding back?

Of course she did. But Cal wasn’t ready to give up all the secrets buried on this old plantation.

CHAPTER FIVE

CASSIE TRIED TO COAX her father to take another bite of the beef stew. Marcus glanced at the spoon then back up at her. “I’m finished. Didn’t you hear me?”

Cal took the spoon from Cassie. “C’mon now, old man, eat something so I can give the night nurse a good report. You don’t want to have to resort to taking your meals through a tube, do you?”

Marcus turned from Cassie to send Cal a heavy scowl, his wizened face expanding until he almost looked young again. “You like being the boss around here, don’t you?”

“I’m not the boss,” Cal said, a spoonful of tender meat and thick gravy moving toward Marcus. “You’re still the man around here, so eat up and keep your strength.”

Cassie resented the way he’d taken over, but was glad to see her father listening to Cal. Marcus took two bites of the stew then fell back against the pillows. “I’m full.”

Cal gave him some water through a bent straw then glanced over at Cassie, the sympathy in his eyes raking her like talons. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his honesty. But then, he’d been dishonest with her before. Why change now?

Marcus glanced at Cassie then turned to Cal, his gaze now hooded and shuttered. “You two speaking?”

“Yes,” Cassie said on a rush of breath. She refused to elaborate.

“We’re being civil,” Cal said. He shot Cassie a look that dared her to disagree.

“That’s not good enough,” Marcus retorted through a grumbling cough. “I need more than civil. I need you two to work together.”

“What did you expect, Daddy?” Cassie’s eyes locked onto Cal. “I found a lot of surprises here since I arrived this morning.” Had she only been here one day? It seemed as if she’d aged in those few short hours. She was bone-tired and weary and still in shock from all the revelations nipping at her like mosquitoes.

Marcus coughed again, prompting Cal to give him another sip of water. He looked up at Cal, another dark scowl on his face. But the expression in his eyes held trust and what seemed like a grudging respect. Cassie glanced at Cal and saw that same respect in his gaze, too. Something passed between the two men, something secret and sacred and scary.

Cassie’s resentment crashed in an ugly wave of green envy. Did Cal really care about her father? Or was this part of his plan? He’d never confirmed or denied her accusations. Cal had never been one for confirming or denying. He wasn’t great at conversations or confrontations.

Deciding to cut to the chase, she touched her father’s arm. “Cal says we need to talk. Are you up to that, Daddy?”

Marcus heaved a deep breath. “Of course I’m up to it. I’ve been waiting for this conversation a long time, Cassie-girl.”

She couldn’t take any more. Her nerves were twisted like fence wire and her head pounded like a herd of stampeding cattle. “Then tell me, please. Somebody tell me what’s going on, beside you being so sick. Besides Cal being back here. What is it?”

“We’re busted,” Marcus finally said, his once-blue eyes watery and piercing. “Camellia Plantation ain’t what it used to be.”

Confusion crashed with exhaustion inside Cassie’s head. “But it’s still here. Our home is still intact.”

She saw the lifting of Cal’s head and the widening of her father’s wrinkled brow. “Cal?”

Cal stood with his feet planted apart, his broad shoulders slung back as if ready to do battle. Until she looked into his eyes. The uncertainty of his gaze shattered her.

“Cal?”

“I brought Cal back to save the place,” Marcus said, his voice weak now. “He can give you the details.”

Cassie stepped back to stare over at Cal. “Is that true?”

Cal nodded. “Your daddy got in trouble in some areas and I’ve been fighting fires since I came back. That’s why I wanted to show you the records and files.”

“And?”

“And we’re leveling off but it’s gonna be a long haul.”

She pushed a hand through her hair. “Is this what you’ve been keeping from me?”

“Partly,” Cal said, glancing down at Marcus. “It’s hard to explain all of it.”

Marcus nodded. “He’s right, honey. I won’t be here much longer, Cassandra. That’s the truth. We don’t have much time. And I need you—”

“Daddy, don’t talk like that. I’m meeting with your doctors. I’ll bring in a specialist—”

“Don’t need a specialist. Just need to rest.”

“You can’t just give up!”

But her father was already drifting off again.

Cassie touched a gentle hand to his bony shoulder. “Daddy, how bad is it?”

Marcus opened his eyes, but the vacant darkness she saw in them caused Cassie to step back. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Gennie, I’m so sorry. I tried to forgive her. I really did, darlin’.” He coughed, his eyes wild now. “But she looks too much like you.”

He dropped back to sleep.

Cassie gasped and turned away, the tears she’d held at bay all day long pricking at her eyes. Was her father talking about her? Everyone told her she looked just like her mother and she’d always believed that was part of why he found it so unbearable to be around her.

Just the thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach.

When she felt Cal’s hand on her arm, she recoiled from the heat of it. “I’m okay. Just go.”

“No,” he said, dragging her toward the door. “No. You’re coming with me so we can discuss this. I should have explained first thing this morning when you got here.”

She couldn’t speak so she allowed him to get her out of that suffocating room. Once out in the hallway, she pulled loose of his grasp. “I was right. You’re going to take over Camellia Plantation, aren’t you? You somehow managed to get back in with my father and now you’re like a vulture waiting to pick his carcass. And you greet me at the door with…that woman. Is Marsha in on this with you, Cal? Is she?”

CAL COULDN’T BELIEVE the things coming out of her mouth. He’d done Cassie wrong all those years ago, but did she actually think he’d somehow managed to maneuver into position over her father’s deathbed? Chalking it up to shock and grief, he cut her some slack but he couldn’t get past his own frustrations and anger.

“You must really hate me,” he said, seeing what looked like hatred in her cold blue eyes. “You can’t honestly believe I’d be so cruel.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” she said, her eyes misty, her tone low and unsure. “I’m sorry, but I just wish—”

The sound of a car door slamming caused her to stop. “I’m going upstairs to my room.”

“Cassie, you need to go over the books with me. So I can show you that you’re wrong.”

Teresa stepped into the hallway. “That’s the night nurse. Cal, let Cassie get some rest. Tomorrow is soon enough to get down to business.”

“You knew about this, too?” Cassie asked the housekeeper, her voice rising.

“Honey, I know about a lot of things,” Teresa replied, lowering her voice as the back door swung open. “But until you’re ready to listen, it won’t matter what we tell you.”

Cal watched as Cassie went into debutante mode, her back going straight, her cool resolve slipping back into place while she closed her eyes to shut down the tears. “You’re right, of course. I’m exhausted and I’m not thinking rationally. I shouldn’t be lashing out at Cal. But tomorrow, I want the truth. From both of you. I mean it, Cal. If I don’t get some answers, I’ll have to figure it out for myself. But I’m hoping you won’t force me to do that.”

She nodded to the shocked woman standing at the door. “I’m Cassandra Brennan, Marcus Brennan’s daughter.”

The hefty red-haired woman stepped forward, apparently undaunted by Cassie’s cold demeanor. “I’m Sharon Clark. Your daddy mentions you all the time.”

Cassie’s manners kicked in to cover her discomfort and pain. She shook the woman’s hand. “It’s good to meet you. Can I go over his medication schedule with you before I go upstairs?”

“Of course,” the woman replied, clearly confused. “I’ll get his chart.”

Cassie nodded and followed the woman into the kitchen.

Cal shook his head at Teresa’s warning look then went out the back door, slamming it behind him.

Now he could put her out of her mind, the way he’d done so many times before. But he’d never be able to forget the indignant expression on her face when she’d accused him.

The woman would never trust him again. And he needed her trust now more than ever.

CASSIE WOKE WITH A START, shadows of dusk washing her bedroom in a golden-hued sheen.

Then she remembered how she and Cal had eaten an early dinner before she’d gone back in with her father. The night nurse had come in and they’d discussed his medications. Marcus had finally settled down for the night, so she’d come upstairs to rest and she’d fallen asleep. It was only eight o’clock.

She’d been dreaming about the day her mother died. She’d had this dream many times over the last few years. Two therapists and lots of long discussions hadn’t kept the dream away. Always inside the dream she was running from something she didn’t want to face.

Well, she didn’t want to face her father’s death and she didn’t want to face Cal ever again. He’d become a coconspirator with her powerful father and she wasn’t sure she could forgive and forget on that front. Just being back here a day had set her back years in emotional security. No wonder she was having nightmares.

She sat up, staring at the digital clock. Out of habit, she got up and went to the ceiling-to-floor window and stared out into the coming night. Not surprised to find a light on in Cal’s house, she thought back over their conversation earlier today. She knew Cal. Or she had once known Cal. The old Cal had probably been honest with her up until that horrible time when her world had fallen apart. He’d told her about his life before he’d come to Camellia, endearing Cassie to him even more. But his betrayal with Marsha had cut too deeply for her to think about that or to trust him now. Cassie had never understood why he’d turned to Marsha right after her mother’s death. She’d needed him then, but she didn’t need him now. Just knowing the other woman had been hanging around made her sick to her stomach.

Back then, she’d never given him a chance to explain. Now she needed explanations and suddenly, he’d become even more noncommunicative.

“I still know you, Cal,” she whispered now. “I know your heart. You always were a decent person.” Feeling mortified about the way she’d treated him, Cassie decided she couldn’t put all the blame on Cal. He’d at least stepped in to help her father when she wasn’t around.

Cal wasn’t one to lie and keep secrets even if she had accused him of those things, but his refusal to tell her everything right up front grated at her raw nerve endings like barbed wire. He’d betrayed her with Marsha all those years ago, but she’d never once asked him why. She’d been too hurt, too confused, to bother asking. So she’d just left.

But now, she’d come back and demanded answers to questions she’d long ago tried not to ask. No wonder Cal didn’t want to be honest with her. She hadn’t exactly been a model daughter. And she certainly hadn’t tried to fight for Cal’s love.

Maybe she still didn’t want to know the answers to those questions. But it did make her think about her part in all of this. Cal had never had a real home but he felt at home here. She couldn’t deny him that. And somehow, in spite of his horrible upbringing, he’d turned out to be a decent, hardworking man. Maybe he was trying to help and nothing more.

But what about her? Now that the dreams were coming back, she had to wonder if she’d held some deep dark secret locked away in her heart. Did she know something, something so horrible she’d buried it beneath her guilt and her pain?

“Impossible,” she whispered to the night. Grabbing her robe, she decided to head down to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea. It was the only way she’d ever get back to sleep. She’d check on her father and see if the nurse needed a break.

She hurried past the two upstairs guest rooms at the center of the big square-framed house, then moved past the master bedroom—the room her parents had always shared. It was an enormous suite located on the opposite side of the house from her room. It took up that whole side of the house and mirrored her room since it also included a setting room, a dressing room and large closet and a bathroom.

Cassie smiled, remembering how she used to sit at her mother’s vanity and powder her face with Eugenia’s scented makeup puff. Eugenia would allow Cassie to put on a spot of lipstick, very sheer and pink, then go into her closet and pull out pumps and pearls and a pretty floral scarf. Cassie so wanted to be like her beautiful mother. She wanted to dress in the billowy, flaring dresses her mother adored or wear cute capris and cashmere sweaters with black flats. She wanted to wear her hair curled into a fashionable bob like Eugenia’s. Her mother had always dressed like a 1960s movie star, regardless of the fads or fashions. She’d been so young when she died—not quite forty years old. Marcus Brennan had married a woman fifteen years younger than him. A beautiful Southern belle who captured his heart and ruled over his domain with polite dignity. Cassie had tried all of her life to live up to her mother’s image.

“But I’m not you, am I, Mother?” Cassie asked the face staring back at her from the formal portrait of Eugenia, dressed in creamy silk and satin, that hung on the staircase wall. “I’ll never be you.”

Cassie’s designs reflected her mother’s grace and classic sense of style but she wasn’t sure she could ever capture the true essence of Eugenia Brennan. No one ever had.

Was that why her parents fought so much and yet loved each other so deeply? They’d both always held something back, something that no other human could discover or figure. But in the end, they’d always held fast to each other. Maybe in their most intimate moments, they’d all let their guards down.

Their saving grace.

Perhaps she should try that. Even with Cal all that time ago, Cassie had held back. She’d loved him but she’d never been completely sure of him. When they’d first met, he’d accused her of being a spoiled snob. And he’d been right in some ways.

But so wrong in others.

Her parents had loved each other in a way Cassie always envied. Until that horrible day so long ago.

She shivered then hurried past her mother’s brilliant blue eyes staring down at her, the light from a hall lamp illuminating the huge portrait like a shrine. Making her way to the stove, she switched on the muted overhead light, hoping not to disturb Teresa. She’d make her cup of tea, check on her father and go back upstairs to play with the designs she’d tried to sketch that afternoon. At least she might be able to get some serious work done. Maybe she’d take a look at the website and see how the current spring line was doing. With Easter just a couple of weeks ago, Cassie’s Closet should have a good retail month and a solid first quarter earnings. Not that she was a millionaire by any means, but she was making an honest living.

She’d need to keep doing that if she intended to help Cal and her father salvage this house and this land. But that would mean putting her plans on hold. No second boutique in Buckhead or Roswell and certainly no long-term plans to open one in New York, either. She’d have to put a tight rein on everything. And pray her anchor store held on and continued to thrive.

She grabbed the teakettle off the stove just as it started gurgling then poured the hot water over the tea bag in her cup. She’d always hated a whistling teakettle and she didn’t want to disturb anyone else. Settling onto a stool near the long counter, Cassie let the memories pour through her with each sip of the soothing tea.

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