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
