Barbara McMahon

The Girl Who Came Back


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were seeing each other just before I left. I guess the romance died,” she added, almost to herself.

      “They stopped seeing each other the same time you girls left,” Cade told her. “Guess he couldn’t risk being associated with a child abuser.”

      Anger flared in Eliza. “Maddie never abused anyone and you know it.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CADE WATCHED ELIZA WALK AWAY, back into the lit lobby. She’d changed in the years since he’d last seen her. She was tall and slim and carried herself with an air of assurance that had been lacking that last afternoon when she’d come to see him. She’d been with Shell Montegue all day, then had tracked down Cade with some cock-and-bull story about Chelsea lying. He’d never heard the real story from his sister; she’d been dead the next time he’d seen her. If Eliza had told him about Chelsea’s call earlier, he might have saved his sister.

      Or if she’d kept quiet about Eddie seeing Darcy. Maybe he could have told Chelsea in a way that would have been less traumatic for her. But how could Eddie’s cheating not be a shock when Chelsea had been pregnant with his baby?

      He’d never forgive Eliza for telling his sister.

      For a moment, the past caught up with him. He remembered the times they’d shared, the plans they’d made. His feelings for Eliza had been so intense. He’d never experienced anything close to them in all the years they’d been apart.

      He turned and headed for his car. He had hours of work still ahead and no time to reminisce. Somehow he had to make sure Allen didn’t jerk the property out from under Maddie and him. The proposed home for teens was too important to him. He was counting on its completion to bring some kind of healing to his life. Nothing else had worked.

      Cade drove the short distance to the old house his mother had owned, which he’d inherited after her death. Pulling into the driveway, he tried to ignore the dilapidated state it was in. The place was in need of major repairs, repainting and some kind of landscaping. Hard to believe the owner was a successful builder. He should do something about it.

      But he no longer lived in Maraville. His home was in New Orleans, and he only used the house here when he stayed over. He’d been here a couple of weeks now to work on the Poppin Hill project and already felt itchy and anxious to leave.

      Letting himself into the house, he paused as he always did, expecting to hear Chelsea calling out, or loud rock music, or one of his mother’s drunken soliloquies. But the empty walls echoed with silence. No one lived here anymore. Only the son, who came infrequently.

      Cade went to the kitchen and quickly got a beer from the refrigerator. He took it to the back stoop and sat on the top step, gazing over the rapidly fading line of trees in the distance. It would be dark before long.

      He’d liked the dark at one time. He and Eliza had used it to sneak out and meet at the town park. No one had seen them; it had been their special time. He frowned, not wanting to take a walk down memory lane, but his mind seemed to have other ideas.

      For a moment, he felt eighteen again, so caught up with the dark-haired beauty from the house on Poppin Hill. He’d lived for the times they could be together, just the two of them.

      If he’d kept his mind on his responsibilities to his family instead of being ruled by teenage hormones, his sister would be alive today. And maybe even his mother.

      But they were both gone.

      Once he built his home for unwed pregnant teens, he’d see about getting rid of the house. It would need work before he could sell it. Maybe he should rent it out. Even then, it needed major repairs. Time he made some long-overdue decisions.

      After he finished the beer, he headed inside to the makeshift office he’d set up in the dining room. There were several faxes waiting for him. And mail forwarded by his secretary.

      He called the foreman on the McIver job and discussed the progress. He knew Joe Randall was on top of things, but Cade hadn’t built a successful business by leaving things to others. It was his company, and if he couldn’t be there for the day-to-day operation, he’d keep long-distance tabs on the work.

      The McIver project was a luxury apartment building with lots of green space. It was behind schedule due to delays in the delivery of cabinets for the kitchens. He hoped his crew could catch up soon and finish the project. Joe was optimistic.

      Cade read the faxes, jotted some notes. When he’d dealt with the pressing matters, his attention turned back to the group home he wanted to establish. Tilting back in the chair, he tried to think of ways to make sure Allen didn’t get control of Maddie Oglethorpe’s property.

      Much as he hated to consider it, one solution would be to enlist Eliza’s help. Everyone knew she’d been raised by Maddie. She was the closest thing to a daughter Maddie had.

      Could he get a judge to grant her permission to occupy the house? As for the delinquent payments, he’d try to float another loan. His cash flow was limited at the moment, but once the McIver property was completed, he’d receive a huge check, hefty enough for a sizable profit and operating capital for another year. He just wished that job wasn’t still weeks from completion.

      Cade brought the chair down on all four legs and rose. He was beat. Time for bed. Options would come, or they wouldn’t. He’d learned that over the years.

      Could Eliza do anything? She owed him. He couldn’t change the past, but he would use any means available to insure the group home was established. He needed to do that. For Chelsea—and for himself.

      ELIZA ENTERED the ICU and went straight to Maddie’s bed. The nurse greeted her with a smile.

      “No change. Have a seat. Talk to her again, maybe she’ll wake up.”

      Eliza pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. She gently brushed back some of the gray hair from Maddie’s forehead. It had been dark and thick all those years ago.

      She took Maddie’s hand. For a moment, time seemed to shift. She remembered Maddie taking her hand when she’d first picked her up. Where had that been? In an office? Eliza couldn’t remember, only that her mother was gone and she was scared.

      Then this stern-looking woman had reached out and taken her hand. Offered her home to an orphan who had nowhere else to go.

      “I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciated you, Maddie,” Eliza said in a low voice. She didn’t want the nurse to hear, but she had to tell Maddie. “Where would I be today if you hadn’t taken me in?” Gently she stroked the worn hand. Their roles were reversed now. She was the strong one, and it was Maddie who needed her help.

      “I can stay as long as you need me,” Eliza said. “Wake up and we’ll make plans. I’ll find April and Jo and it’ll be the four of us again, if only for a visit. Do you know where they are? Did you ever find them? You said in your first letter that you hadn’t heard from either one. I don’t know where they were sent, but if I can locate them, I will. Wake up and tell me how to make that pecan pie of yours that was so good we almost got sick eating so much. Or how to make that honey ham we had on Sundays after church.”

      Eliza swallowed. She’d forgotten the attempts Maddie had made to give them the best possible home. Money had been tight. She’d told them that more often than not when they’d asked for things. Eliza had a much better appreciation now of how Maddie must have stretched every dollar.

      “I’m getting married soon,” Eliza said, hoping something would break through to Maddie. “He’s a lawyer in Boston. Very successful. You’ll have to come up to meet him before the wedding. You’ll be the mother of the bride. We still have to set a date. We’ll have to make it summertime. Boston in winter is too cold. You can’t imagine the snow.”

      Slowly Eliza told Maddie more about her life in Boston, of her ambitions to one day open a catering firm. She wanted Maddie to know that her cooking had influenced Eliza’s choice of career.

      Glancing