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.