Kitabı oku: «A Mother's Secret»

Chapter One

A flood of memories filled Chase Asher as he unlocked the front door of his great-uncle’s mansion, Bee Tree Hill. He hesitated to enter, not because anyone lived there, but because he hated to face the reminder of his past mistakes. Uncle Morgan was gone, the house was empty, but the memories, both good and bad, lingered.

Stepping over the threshold and into the walnut-paneled foyer, he forced the past to stay where it belonged and focused on the task ahead. His father wanted to sell the estate by the end of July, leaving Chase with just two months to inventory Uncle Morgan’s things, fix any minor repairs and quietly grieve the passing of a man who was like a father to him. Thankfully, he’d have the place all to himself, a nice change from the chaotic office back in Seattle.

“One...two...three!” A child’s voice cried out from the front parlor. “Ready, not, here I come!”

A little girl with dark brown pigtails and pink overalls ran out of the next room and right into Chase’s leg. The child fell and bounced on her backside. She looked up at Chase with large, brown eyes. “Tag!” she said with a giggle. “You’re it.”

Chase stepped back, his pulse pounding hard. Where in the world had the child come from? The place was supposed to be empty. “Who are you?”

“Kinsley,” she said, pointing to her chest.

She started to pick herself up off the ground, but Chase couldn’t stand by and just watch. He picked her up and put her on her feet. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Her eyes turned into half crescents when she smiled. “I okay.”

Another little girl, this one in purple overalls, came out of the powder room on Chase’s right. She was an identical copy of Kinsley, with brown pigtails and brown eyes.

What was happening? Where were these kids coming from?

“And who are you?” Chase asked, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. Had someone been living here illegally? His uncle had been gone for only three weeks—enough time for someone to realize the house was empty. He hated to think he’d have to get the police involved, especially with the kids present.

The other little girl didn’t answer, but ran toward the stairs at the opposite end of the foyer. “Mama!” she cried as her short legs worked overtime to climb the steps. “Mama!”

“That’s Harper.” Kinsley put her hands behind her back and bounced on her tiptoes, her pigtails swinging. “Who are you?”

“Chase Asher.”

She stopped bouncing. “Grandpa Asher?”

Who was Grandpa Asher?

“You play hide, seek?” Kinsley didn’t let Chase answer her first question, but took one of his fingers and pulled him toward the parlor. “You count.” She let him go and ran through the parlor giggling. “Find me!”

Chase needed to discover who was squatting on his property, but first, he wanted to know who Grandpa Asher was to this little girl. Did she mean Uncle Morgan Asher?

He followed her through the parlor, into the fountain room, and turned left to enter the large music room. Windows along three walls let in a flood of daylight and revealed the plush landscape of the nine-acre estate just beyond the wavy glass. The Mississippi hugged the back side of the property and sparkled off in the distance.

It wasn’t hard to find Kinsley. Her muffled giggles revealed that she was hiding behind an ornate sofa, her chubby hands covering her mouth.

Chase couldn’t help but smile at the laughter and glee this child possessed—even if her parents were trespassers. How long had it been since he was so happy and carefree? “I found you,” he said.

“You hide!” She jumped up and put her hands over her eyes. “One...two...”

“Who is Grandpa Asher?” Chase asked, crouching down. “Is he your grandpa?”

She uncovered her eyes and nodded. “My grandpa.”

“Does he live here in Timber Falls?”

Kinsley shrugged.

How did he expect to get a straight answer from such a young child? Where were her parents?

“Can I help you?” A woman’s voice pulled his attention away from the child.

He turned—and his heart stopped beating at the sight of Joy Gordon.

She stood at the top of the steps leading into the music room, Harper hugging her leg. A baseball bat was in her right hand, but when she met his gaze, it fell out of her hand and ricocheted off the wood floor. “Chase.”

“Mama!” Kinsley ran around Chase and went to Joy, tugging on her T-shirt. “I’m hungry.”

It took a minute for Chase’s brain to catch up with the facts. Joy had children?

Twins?

He could hardly believe it.

“Go into the kitchen,” Joy said to her daughters, disentangling Harper’s hold on her leg. “Mrs. Thompson should have the afternoon snacks ready.”

Chase used the distraction to rise and take a steadying breath.

He never expected to see Joy again—let alone here, in the very house where he’d fallen in love with her and then left her without an explanation. He thought she’d be long gone.

The girls ran off and Joy came down the steps. Distrust was written all over her face, and rightfully so. She had no reason to trust him again.

Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she wore a wrinkled T-shirt, but she was more attractive than he remembered. He had measured every woman he met in the past four years up against Joy’s beauty—and found all of them lacking.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“What am I doing here? I was just about to ask you the same question.”

She didn’t come close, but kept a considerable distance between them. “I live here.”

“Since when?”

There was a quiet pause and then she said, “I never left.”

“I thought you were just working here that summer. Uncle Morgan let you stay?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her eyebrows came together. “He wanted to help me.”

Four years ago, Joy was going to a local college to be a school social worker. Uncle Morgan had hired her for the summer to do light cleaning to earn money for tuition. Chase had always assumed she graduated and went on to get a different job, maybe get married and start a family. By the looks of it, at least that part was true.

“Why did he want to help?” Chase wished he wasn’t so confused right now. His father had told him the house was empty. Why hadn’t someone informed him that Joy was still there?

She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt self-consciously. “Two years ago, I became a foster mom to three brothers. Since I was still living here helping, Uncle Morgan asked if I would like to live in the main house while he moved into the carriage house. He said the mansion was meant for a growing family to enjoy.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “I never asked him to move into the carriage house. He insisted.”

Just like Uncle Morgan to give his home to a family—Joy’s family.

Chase pointed toward the entrance, incredulity tinting his words. “Are the twins yours?” It was hard to think of Joy falling in love with someone else and starting a family.

Joy nodded, her dark brown gaze lowering to her hands. “They are.”

A quiet pause punctuated their awkward conversation, but Chase finally managed to say, “They’re beautiful.”

She lifted her eyes again and studied him. “Thank you.”

“Mama!” a boy called from the front of the house. “We’re home!”

“School’s all done for the summer!” cried another.

“Excuse me,” Joy said as she walked away from Chase. “The boys are home.”

He followed Joy out of the music room and back into the foyer. The boys were dropping backpacks, tennis shoes, folders and sports equipment on the Oriental rug, all talking at once.

“I’m hungry,” the oldest one said. “Does Mrs. Thompson have cookies?”

“Yes.” Joy picked up the things the boys were tossing on the ground. “But there will be no snacks until you’ve put all your things away. I want backpacks, folders and other school supplies on the dining room table so I can sort through them later.” She handed the things back to the boys. “Your sporting equipment needs to go on the back porch—”

The boys grabbed their things and started to run off.

“I’m not finished,” Joy said with the authority of a mom. “I want it all organized. Don’t just throw it in there.”

The boys all had blond hair and blue eyes, and were stair steps in height, each coming up to the chin of the next one older. They nodded that they understood, but continued on to the dining room.

“If you have any dirty laundry, please put it down the laundry chute. And wash your hands!” she called out.

The shortest boy, maybe six years old, stopped and frowned at Chase. “Who are you?”

“This is Mr. Asher,” Joy said.

The boy looked up at Joy. “Did he know Grandpa Asher?”

“Who is Grandpa Asher?” Chase asked impatiently, recalling what Kinsley had said earlier.

“That’s what they called your uncle,” Joy said, a sad smile in her voice. “He was a grandpa to the kids in every way.”

“We miss him.” The little boy’s face pinched in grief for a moment, and then he ran toward the dining room, calling out to his brothers to wait for him.

Joy picked up some loose rubber bands and a stray paper clip on the rug.

“I can see why Uncle Morgan opened his home to you.” Chase shook his head in amazement at what he’d just seen. Joy. A mom. A good mom. “You’ve got your hands full. I’m just surprised that my father didn’t know you were here.”

“Why are you here, Chase?” Joy set the office supplies on a nearby table and turned to him, questions in her eyes.

He wished he didn’t have to tell her, but she’d have to learn the truth sometime. With a sigh he answered, “I came to sell Bee Tree Hill.”

Joy put her hand over her mouth to try to hide her reaction. Sell the mansion?

“But—” She swallowed hard. “I—I thought Uncle Morgan told the Asher Corporation that he wished for the children and me to live here after his death.”

Compassion filled Chase’s eyes, but he didn’t have any right to feel bad. Where was his compassion four years ago when he walked out on her? “My father didn’t say anything about Uncle Morgan’s wishes. And since the corporation owns the home, it’s ours to sell.”

At the mention of Chase’s father, Joy flinched. Her only experience with the man was when he’d heard that Chase wanted to marry her. She’d been a poor college student who had grown up in one foster home after the next. When Chase’s father had arrived, he confronted Joy while she was cleaning a bathroom and told her she would never be good enough for his son. He accused her of using Chase for his family’s money. While she knelt before a toilet, yellow rubber gloves on her hands, he told her he had given Chase an ultimatum, either he break things off with her, or lose his inheritance. When Chase left, without saying goodbye, Joy realized he had given her up for the money.

Of all the pain, rejection and disappointment she’d ever felt in her life, no one had demeaned her the way Chase’s father had that day.

Now Joy paced away from Chase, her mind spinning with everything that had just happened in the last ten minutes, hoping Kinsley and Harper would stay out of sight. She didn’t want him to ask any more questions about the twins. “What does this mean for the children and me? What about Mrs. Thompson? She’s lived here most of her life working for your uncle. With Mr. Thompson gone, she’s all alone in the world, and as far as I know, she doesn’t have a retirement to live on. Where will all of us go?”

Chase ran his hands through his dark brown hair. It was still as wavy and unruly as ever. How many times had she run her own hands through his hair? The memory of how it felt made her fingers tingle, so she clenched them into fists. It had taken her a long time to get over Chase Asher and she wasn’t about to dredge up those old memories again.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I have to think. I didn’t know you were here. I thought this would be an uncomplicated transaction. I’d just walk in, fix things up a little and oversee the sale.”

Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but she kept her voice low. “I can’t look my kids in the eyes and tell them they have to move—again. The boys lived in four different foster homes—and I don’t know how many other places—before I brought them here two years ago. I told them I would do everything in my power to make sure they didn’t have to move again.”

“I don’t know what to say, Joy—”

The door to the kitchen opened. “Is it you, Chase?” Mrs. Thompson’s round cheeks were pink and her gray hair was pinned in a loose bun at the back of her head. Delight filled her eyes at the sight of Chase. “When Kodi told me Mr. Asher was here, and I heard that rich baritone voice of yours, I could hardly move fast enough to lay eyes on you again.”

Chase extended his hand and walked toward her. “Hello, Mrs. Thompson.”

She reached out and pulled him into her plump embrace. “Only a hug will do after four years apart.” She squeezed him, her mouth working in a prayer of thanksgiving, no doubt. Mrs. Thompson made no excuses about her faith, and she was always the first to offer God thanksgiving for his many blessings.

But Joy didn’t see Chase’s arrival as a blessing. He had come to take away Bee Tree Hill, and, if she wasn’t careful, he could take Kinsley and Harper, as well.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home for Mr. Thompson’s funeral,” Chase said. “I—”

“No need to apologize,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I received your beautiful card and flowers.” She released him from the hug, but held on to his hands. She wasn’t a very tall woman, so she had to look up at Chase, who stood at least six feet tall.

In the years since Chase left, his arms had grown more muscular, his shoulders had become broader, and his face had become more handsome, if that was possible. Was he married?

A quick look at his ring finger revealed no wedding band, but that didn’t mean anything.

Chase glanced in Joy’s direction and caught her looking him over. She dropped her gaze in embarrassment, wondering what he thought about her after all this time. Did she look more timeworn and stressed? Did the years of being a single mother show on her face? Was she as washed out as she felt? She had worked a half day at Timber Falls Elementary, where she was a social worker, and had come home, thrown on some black yoga pants and a T-shirt and was vacuuming bedrooms when Harper ran upstairs to tell her a stranger was in the house. She must look a fright.

“What are you doing here, boy?” Mrs. Thompson asked Chase.

“Unfortunately,” Chase let out a breath, “I came to Bee Tree Hill to get it ready to sell.”

Mrs. Thompson’s smile fell and she searched his face. “Sell Bee Tree Hill?”

Chase nodded, his eyebrows tilting together. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson. It’s not my choice. The board met just a week ago and made the decision. I was sent to oversee the details.”

Mrs. Thompson nodded slowly. “I understand.” She patted Chase’s cheek and winked. “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps. We’ll let the good Lord figure this one out for us. Now,” she put her hands on her hips, “where will you stay?”

“I thought I’d be staying here.” He shrugged and glanced at Joy again. “But, under the circumstances, I don’t think it would be best. I can go to a hotel.”

A hotel as far away from Bee Tree Hill as possible.

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Thompson grinned. “You can stay above the carriage house, just like your uncle Morgan was doing. He had the place updated just a couple years ago when Joy and the kids moved in here. I cleaned it myself right after he went into the hospital last month, so the place should work just fine for you.”

Chase searched Joy’s face for her approval. “Would that work?”

If she had her choice, she would say no. But it wasn’t her place to make that decision. He represented the rightful owners. “That’s fine.”

He nodded. “I’ll get my things out of the rental car and be out of your way—”

“No, you won’t.” Mrs. Thompson took his arm as Chase was about to turn away. “You’ll stay here for supper and we’ll have a nice long visit before you head down to the carriage house later.”

Joy stepped forward to protest the invitation, but Chase responded faster than her.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said.

He didn’t want to impose? Joy almost snorted. His very presence in the house was the biggest imposition of her life. What was she going to do? How would she keep the girls’ identity a secret from him? All he would need to do was find out how old they were and he’d probably guess. They were small for their age, so he might think they were younger than three—but if he asked them, they’d tell him the truth.

“Fiddlesticks,” Mrs. Thompson laughed. “I’ll leave you and Joy to chat for a bit while I get the kids their snacks.” With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen, closing the door soundly.

Joy’s mind raced with all the implications of Chase’s arrival, but there was only one thing she could focus on. She would do whatever it would take to keep the house for the kids, and protect her girls from Chase’s family.

He sighed as he faced Joy. “I’m going to see what I can do about this mess. If the board knew you and the kids were here, I don’t think they would have sent me. Somehow, Uncle Morgan’s wishes were not made known to the corporation.”

Hope sprung up in Joy’s heart at his words. “Do you think there’s a way we could still keep the house?”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call my father and tell him what happened.”

It wasn’t much, but at least Chase was willing to do what he could. A part of her wanted to believe he would do the right thing, while the other part remembered how much pain he had caused her when he walked away without an explanation. A couple weeks after he left, when she had found out she was pregnant, she had tried to contact him, but he never returned her calls. Eventually, the number was disconnected. After she learned she was expecting twins, the desire to protect her babies from the Asher family had overwhelmed her, so she had kept her secret. If they knew the girls existed, what would stop them from fighting for custody? They had a fortune at their fingertips and she was a single mother who didn’t even own the home she lived in.

Thankfully, Uncle Morgan had let her stay on at Bee Tree Hill while she went to school, and Mrs. Thompson had helped with childcare once they were born. Both Uncle Morgan and Mrs. Thompson had wanted Joy to tell Chase the truth, but she had kept putting it off—and made them promise not to tell.

But now? Now she might be homeless and would have no excuse left to keep the girls’ identity from their father.

“I appreciate whatever you can do to help,” Joy told Chase, forcing herself not to think about the inevitable conversation they must have. For now, they had other things to worry about.