A Family At Last
Never, in all her dealings with Matthew McKnight, would Cory have suspected admiration. Not from him.
She felt a quickening of her heart, and again she had to look away, unable to reconcile her memories and her own emotions with this new information. She had to stop this foray into unfamiliar territory. She had no defenses against this gentle onslaught. It was tempting to believe him totally, to accept his admiration, to think that maybe his comments, his glances, the sum total of what had been happening between them the past few days, might go somewhere else. But she didn’t dare.
Books by Carolyne Aarsen
Love Inspired
Homecoming #24
Ever Faithful #33
A Bride at Last #51
The Cowboy’s Bride #67
* A Family-Style Christmas #86
* A Mother at Heart #94
* A Family at Last #121
CAROLYNE AARSEN
comes from northern Alberta, where she was born, raised, married and is currently half finished raising her own family of four—if raising children is a job that’s ever done.
Carolyne’s writing skills were developed amid being a stay-at-home mother, housewife, foster mom and business partner in a farm and sawmilling business. She started her writing career with a weekly humor column, currently running in several rural Alberta newspapers. Writing for Love Inspired has given her the chance to indulge in her first love—romance writing—and remain true to her Christian convictions.
Through all her writing Carolyne wishes to portray how God works in our lives and the lives of families and communities. Her main goal is to show people’s weaknesses and Christ’s strengths.
A Family at Last
Carolyne Aarsen
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have
no compassion on the child she has borne? Though
she may forget, I will not forget you! See,
I have engraved you on the palms of my hands!
—Isaiah 49:15, 16
To Linda Ford, friend and fellow writer and
supporter, as well as mother of numerous children
and foster children. For all their help with the legalities
of wills and holograph wills, I would like
to thank Madelaine Wessel and Jean Gunns.
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
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
He looked familiar.
Cory paused, narrowing her eyes as the latest customer came through the restaurant doors. All she could see from this angle was a tall man whose sandy-brown hair had a tendency to wave and a light-brown suit jacket that sat easily on broad shoulders. Something about the tilt of his head, the way he carried himself…
I’m getting jumpy, she thought, trying to dismiss the feeling.
But if there was one thing Cory and her mother had learned over the past years was to trust their instincts, and Cory had a bad feeling about this man.
She continued wiping the table her most recent customers had just vacated, absently pocketing the tip, trying for a closer look at him. He had chosen a seat in one of the booths by the window hidden from Cory’s view.
She tried to brush away the uneasiness as she brought the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, but still couldn’t stop one more glance over her shoulder.
On her return she grabbed the coffeepot, forced a smile, then turned, taking a deep breath as she walked toward the booth.
He sat with his arms folded on the table. As he turned, Cory swayed, clutching the coffeepot, the blood draining from her face.
Matthew McKnight.
And where Matthew was, her stepfather couldn’t be too far behind.
What was Matthew doing here? How had he found them? She and her mother had been so careful.
The questions piled on top of each other, backing up in her mind.
Maybe it was just coincidence, she reassured herself. Maybe he just happened to be passing through.
Maybe she should get someone else to help him.
But there was no one else in the restaurant and as she paused, he turned.
And saw her.
Cory forced her feet to move toward him, her heart increasing its tempo with every step.
She stopped at his table and in spite of herself, couldn’t help looking at him.
She met a pair of deep-green eyes beneath level brows. His hair waved away from his face, curling over the collar of his crisp white shirt. His suit jacket lay easily on his shoulders, it’s impeccable cut reminding Cory of how much money the McKnights had.
As good-looking as ever, Cory thought with dismay at the unwelcome stab of appreciation that filtered through her angry fear.
“Hello, Cory Smith,” Matthew said, his voice quiet. The tone of his voice told her that coincidence had not brought him here. He had expected to see her.
“I go by Cory Luciuk now,” she said, her voice crisp. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Menu?” Cory kept her eyes resolutely on the bubbles forming in the liquid in the cup.
“I’ll just have a piece of apple pie.”
Against her better judgment, Cory chanced another look. His gaze was compelling and forceful at the same time. How many times hadn’t she faced those eyes as he walked past her out of the courtroom, victorious once again?
How many times hadn’t she fought the disloyal, foolish hope that he would relent, that he would slow down and acknowledge her as a person, not as an opponent.
“How did you find me?” she asked, deciding the direct approach was the best. “Because I’m assuming you came, knowing I worked here.”
Matthew finally looked away, toying with the cup as if trying to figure out what to tell her. “You’re right. I did.”
“Then how?”
“A little bit of luck and a lot of prayers.”
Cory thought of the many prayers her mother sent up, prayers for release from her ex-husband, prayers that she and Cory could establish some kind of life apart from Zeke. Now, it looked as if Matthew’s prayers had won. He looked up at her again. “When did you change your name?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. “You found us. But I’m sure you didn’t do all that work just so we could discuss our name change.”
“You’re right.” Matthew bit one corner of his lip, scratching his forehead with his index finger. “I need to talk to you in private, Cory.”
“What about?”
“Your stepfather.”
“Why am I not surprised?” In spite of her casually spoken words, she felt a tremor of apprehension.
“Can you meet me when you’re off work?”
Cory felt cornered. Was he arranging this meeting for Zeke? Had she and her mother’s caution all been for nothing? For a fleeting moment Cory imagined herself turning, running out of the restaurant, taking her mother and heading out of town in any direction that took them away from Matthew, away from Zeke.
Cory’s grip tightened on the coffeepot as she forced herself to remain calm. Neither she nor her mother would run away anymore. They had stayed here long enough to develop friendships. People in this friendly town had gone out of their way to help them settle in. “How much is this meeting goi
ng to cost me?”
Matthew frowned. “What do you mean?”
“No one talks to a lawyer for free,” she said, taking refuge in anger, hoping, praying it would cover her fear, her own foolish reaction to his good looks. “Why don’t you tell me right now and get it over and done with?”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m sorry. I prefer to talk to you in private. Can I come to your home later on?”
A brief vision of the ancient bungalow that she and Joyce rented flitted through her head. She couldn’t help but mentally compare it to Matthew’s home in Riverview—a two-hour drive from Stratton. All dormers and gables and expensive jigs and jogs. Situated at the edge of the golf course, no less.
“No,” she said firmly. “How about tomorrow morning, here?”
“I’d like to meet you sooner than that.” He looked up at her, tucking one corner of his mouth under his teeth, the way he always did when he was contemplating something.
Cory felt the full force of his good looks, the charm he gave off as easily as the flame from a struck match. She almost took a step back—almost let her heart quiver in response.
“Is there someplace I could meet you after work today?” he continued.
He wasn’t going to let her off, she thought. “There’s a park we could go to. Turn east on Fifty-Seventh and you’ll find it. I’ll meet you there at 5:00.”
“Okay. I think I know where it is. I’ll be there.”
“And I’ll be back with your pie.” Cory turned, sucked in a slow breath and strode away, fighting her fluctuating emotions. In spite of everything he had done to them, all the humiliation she had suffered because of Matthew’s defense of her stepfather, one look at those deep-green eyes could still make her feel all fluttery again.
With another quick glance over her shoulder at Matthew she escaped to the washroom.
She turned the cold water on full blast, then bent over and splashed it on her face hoping to ease the heat in her cheeks, hoping to settle a heavy sense of foreboding.
As she toweled off her face, she glanced in the mirror. Thankfully the face staring back at her looked calm, self-possessed. With a long slow sigh, Cory threw the paper towel in the garbage, pulled open the washroom door, stepped outside and got Matthew his pie.
Matthew had his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his steepled fingers as she approached.
Attractive as ever, Cory thought, grudgingly admitting his appeal. It’s the hair, she figured, those waves that made a woman want to rearrange them, the dimple that dented his one cheek when he smiled.
Cory never saw that dimple much. Matthew seldom smiled around her. He considered Cory to be beneath him and he considered Cory to be beneath his cousin Deirdre McKnight, Cory’s high school friend.
Deirdre used to laugh at the way Matthew used to warn her about Cory. “He thinks you’re some kind of juvenile delinquent bent on turning me astray,” she had joked.
Cory had obediently laughed along, but the comment stuck with her. Each time she met Matthew she would remember it, wondering why it should bother her.
In fact, it could still bother her.
She set the plate on the table, unable to avoid looking at him. “Here’s your pie.”
“Thanks.” He looked up at her, his expression still serious. “I’ll see you later on, then.”
Her only reply was a cool smile that belied the tension she felt.
The next twenty minutes were busy, but Cory didn’t relax until she saw Matthew leave. She couldn’t help but watch as he ducked into a snappy-looking sports car.
Expensive-looking sports car.
As Cory cleaned up his cup and plate, she found a generous tip. Stifling her humiliation, Cory picked it up. He obviously thought she needed the money. And, sadly, he was right.
The rest of her shift went quickly. The supper crowd descended, and Cory and her fellow waitresses picked up the pace. By the time Cory’s shift was done, her feet burned and her head ached with tension. She wondered if Zeke was going to be with Matthew and prayed he wouldn’t. Matthew hadn’t given any indication that Zeke would be there.
“So, how did you do on tips today?” her friend Kelsey asked as Cory slipped on her jacket.
“Do you think I’m going to tell the daughter of the owner that? You’ll want the restaurant’s share.”
“Don’t tempt me, my dear,” Kelsey Swain said with a sigh, flipping her own long, red hair free from her coat. “You always do pretty good on tips, you old smoothy. I think it’s those deep brown eyes. Makes a guy think you’re all soft and sweet instead of the cool and collected type that turns down dates with a joke.”
“If you still want a ride to your parents’, I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head,” Cory warned, pulling open the back door of the restaurant.
“No threats.” Kelsey raised her hands in mock surrender as she walked through. “Please, no threats.”
Cory unlocked the passenger door of her car, then got in her side of the station wagon.
“You know, Cory, when your catering business starts taking off, I sure hope you can buy yourself a decent vehicle,” Kelsey said, glancing over her shoulder.
“Hey. Who’s driving who?” Cory asked with a laugh as she backed out of the parking lot. “At least my vehicle runs.”
“Yeah. You’re doing better than me in that department. I’m getting tired of constantly fixing that lemon I drive. Now if I had a man in my life, that would be different. He could fix it.”
“Oh, brother, don’t start on that. As if men are going to be your salvation.”
“Don’t get all cynical on me, girl. I don’t know what guy soured you on men, but I’m not like that.”
“Few men are like Carter,” Cory said, referring to Kelsey’s former husband. Carter had died two and a half years ago, but Kelsey still talked about him.
“No. Most likely not,” Kelsey said softly. “But I think I saw someone that could come close. He looked like a perfect man.”
“That’s an oxymoron.”
“He came just before the supper rush,” Kelsey continued, ignoring her friend. “Tall, with wavy hair. Killer smile.” Kelsey sighed dramatically. “And a dimple. Right there.” Kelsey poked her finger into a spot just beside her mouth.
Oh, goodness, she means Matthew, Cory thought with a jolt. “I don’t know how you can remember him,” Cory said, forcing herself to sound disinterested. “We must have served two-dozen guys since then.”
“Oh, but not like him. He had a charm, a charisma that simply oozed out of him. And a fancy little sports car.”
“Don’t forget the dimple.”
“C’mon. He was definitely hero material.”
“You and your heroes,” Cory said with mock anger. “There’s no such thing. A guy is a guy is a guy.”
“Speaks the cynical beauty,” Kelsey teased. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wished for a hero once upon a time?”
Cory didn’t reply. Kelsey’s words struck close to her own daydreams. She used to wish for a hero. In fact, she used to wish for two. The brothers she never met, given up by her mother when Joyce’s first husband died leaving her with massive debt, expecting a third and no way of raising two children.
The brothers her mother still had pictures of. Many times Cory had wished, yes, even prayed, that they would come swooping into their lives and save her and her mother.
Save them from the merciless teasing of fellow classmates about the secondhand and homemade clothes she was forced to wear.
But mostly, she had wished her brothers would save her from Zeke each time the court enforced the visiting rights that Zeke was awarded when Joyce successfully sued for divorce.
“Don’t you think he would make a good hero?” Kelsey continued. “Those beautiful green eyes. Like a mountain lake.”
“And about as warm.” Cory grew tired of hearing Kelsey defending a man she had to see in a few moments. “He’s a lawyer,” she said shortly. As if that explained everything.
Kelsey held up her hand. “No lawyer, jokes. Okay?”
“But I’ve got so many good ones.”
“So, how did you know him?” Kelsey said, changing the subject. “A date? He tried to ask you out, and you did your usual Ice Woman thing and brushed him off?”
“No.”
“So. How?”
Cory hesitated, years of keeping to herself and keeping secrets were hard to let go of. But what would it matter if she told Kelsey about Zeke? If Matthew had found them, Zeke wasn’t far behind. And if that was the case Cory had no reason to keep secrets anymore.
“He was, no, is,” Cory corrected, “my stepfather’s lawyer. And the son of my stepfather’s other lawyer.” Cory drew in a deep breath, going back to a time of her life she had tried to forget. “Thanks to the formidable team of McKnight and McKnight, I spent every weekend of junior high and high school with Zeke Smith. My stepfather. My mother divorced him when I was twelve because while he happened to be a fine upstanding member of the community in public, he was a devious, manipulative schemer in private. And a nasty one at that. Unfortunately that didn’t change with the divorce. In fact, it got worse.”
Cory stopped, her emotions getting the better of her as her memories swamped her mind. She clenched the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as once again she struggled with forgiveness.
“Oh, Cory. I never knew that.”
“So now I get to meet my stepfather’s lawyer and find out what new torment he has decided to bring upon us,” Cory finished.
“I’m sorry. I feel terrible now.”
“Well, you didn’t know.” Cory turned a corner and parked in front of Kelsey’s parents’ home.
Kelsey turned to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You want to come in for a while?”
“No. Thanks. I have to meet this guy right away.”