Family Secrets (3 page)

His face is ashen. I imagine mine is the same.

I’m going to be sick.

I slide off the chair, vaguely aware of people calling my name and rushing after me.  I bolt into the bathroom and slam the cubicle door shut.  Crouching down beside the porcelain, I lose my stomach, as my mind goes back to six years ago.

THEN

6 years ago

My hands are sweaty. I clench my hands together and discreetly wipe the wetness off down the front of my pale blue, Chantilly lace, summer dress that Mother insisted I wear today.  Apparently, it’s ‘flattering’ for my ‘body type’.  She always makes snide remarks like that.  I think my body is fine.  Admittedly I’m not as curvy as some of the girls I know, and I definitely haven’t filled out as much as them in the breast department, but I’m happy with what I’ve got.

Mother isn’t.  I should have bigger breasts, curvier hips, and thinner thighs.  Otherwise, I’ll never snag a rich man and have him marry me.  What she doesn’t realize is, I couldn’t give a stuff about all that.

“Cassidy, stop fidgeting,” she says through clenched teeth.  One long manicured finger reaches out to press the doorbell.  Why she insists on ringing it baffles me.  She’ll be living here soon. Actually, we both will be.

“Sorry, Mother,” I reply curtly.  Mother is what I must call her. When I was a young child, I was always encouraged to call her mother from the time I could babble words.  By the time I was seven, I was strictly forbidden to call her mom or mommy.  It was
Mother
or nothing. 

“Charles,” she gushes when the door swings open.

“Celia, you know you don’t have to ring the bell.”

“Oh pish posh.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Charles, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Cassidy.  Cassidy, say hello to Mr. Mason.”

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Mason. It’s nice to meet you,” I say in my most polite voice.

“Cassidy, it’s a pleasure.  Please, call me Charles.  Come on in.”  He takes my hand, shaking it gently, and then releases it for us to follow him.

Charles is my mother’s fourth husband.  Husband number one was my father, but he left before I knew him.  Her marriage to husband number two ended when he passed away from cancer.  They had been married for four years. I was seven.  Husband number three committed adultery, so mother left him after five years.  I was fourteen.  Now, here we are again.   I’m seventeen now, and I’ve just returned from a school trip.  Mother didn’t want to waste anytime waiting for me to return, so after a whirlwind six-week romance, they eloped last weekend while I was away.

We walk through the large house until we reach the dining area.  The twelve-seat table is made up elaborately, with flowers arranged down the center, and intricately placed candles.  Above us hangs an imposing crystal chandelier.

I take a seat nearer to the middle, while Mother and Charles sit at the end – Charles at the head of the table, Mother to his left.

“Cassidy, after lunch, I’ll have my housekeeper, Estelle escort you to the sleeping wing of the house.  You’ll be able to choose which room you’d like to be yours.”

“Thank you,” I reply quietly.  As soon as I arrived home yesterday, Mother informed me of her marriage and the fact we would be moving in to Charles’s home.  She currently has a team of movers packing our boxes, and they’ll be delivered sometime this evening. 

I should be used to this whole process, and in a way, I guess I am.  But I still felt blindsided when I heard the news she had remarried.  Again. 

A woman appears and pours Mother and Charles a glass of wine each.

“Would you like a water or juice, Miss Cassidy?”

“Water please.”

She fills my cup and then leaves, only to return moments later with our food. 

What the hell is this? 

“Trout with turnip puree, red carrots, and brussel spouts.  Enjoy,” the server answers my unspoken question.  She bows and then disappears out of sight.

“This looks absolutely marvelous, Charles,” my mother swoons.  “Don’t you agree, Cassidy?”

“It does look delicious.” 
Not.

“Let’s eat,” Charles commands.  He seems like a nice person, at least that’s a start.  Husband number three was a real asshole that hated children.  He treated me like shit, and to keep up appearances, my mother followed in his footsteps.  I was glad when she finally left him.  Charles is tall, thin, and has well-groomed, sandy-brown hair that is combed in that gentlemanly way. 

“Cassidy, your mother tells me you’re seventeen,” he comments.

I finish swallowing my bite of trout, which actually tastes surprising good, and nod my head.

“I have two children myself.  They’re eighteen and nineteen.”

“Mother did mention that.  Do they live here, too?”

“They do when they’re not at school and college.  They should be returning tonight for the weekend, so you’ll get to meet them both then.  I’m sure you’ll find them both great company.”

“I’m sure I will, too.” 
I just hope they’re not the snotty type that I usually come across.

Setting my cutlery down on my plate, I take a sip of water.  The server comes out and deftly removes our plates, returning minutes later with our next course.

I wonder if they eat like this all the time here? I’m going to get so fat.

“Beef fillet with roasted cherry tomatoes, and red wine jus,” the server announces.

The steak is delicious and melts in my mouth.  I take my time, delicately eating each bite.

“Thank you very much, Charles.  That was delicious,” I tell him truthfully when I’m finished.

“You’re more than welcome, Cassidy.  Would you like dessert?”

My mother shoots me a glare, but I don’t make eye contact with her.  “No thank you.  That was more than enough.”

“Would you like to choose a room now, perhaps?”

“Thank you.”  I nod my head and give him a smile.

When the server reappears to take our plates, Charles asks her to send in Estelle.

Estelle turns out to be a beautiful little Mexican woman with a contagious laugh.  With her short black bob and sparkling dark eyes, she’s a beautiful woman who shines from the inside out.

“There are six available rooms, Miss Cassidy, so pick the one you like the most.”

“Thanks, Estelle.”

“Now, this one is my favorite.  You can see the ocean from here.  But if you’d prefer to look out over the forest, there’s another room that would be perfect for you.”

I follow her into the first room and gasp.  It’s absolutely stunning.  The furniture is all white, accented with blue and green furnishings.  It’s open and airy, and in the distance, you can see the sea.  It’s beautiful, but still, I find myself asking to see the other rooms.

“Want to make an informed decision, I see,” Estelle says with a hoot.

“Of course.” I smile back.

She leads me across the wide hall and into another beautifully decorated room.  The bed is a deep, dark, wood with a matching dresser and side table.  There’s a reading nook along the window that looks out over the extensive, thickly wooded area the property backs on to.

“Would you like to see the other rooms, Miss Cassidy?” Estelle asks.

“No, thank you.  I love this room.”

“It’s very tranquil, isn’t it?”

I nod and murmur my agreement.

“Would you like to have a rest before your belongings are delivered?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“I’ll leave you be, then.  If you need anything, just press the number two button on the phone there, and I’ll answer.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Your personal bathroom is just through that door there.” She points to a closed door directly across from where she’s standing.  “Rest well, Miss Cassidy.”

She closes the door softly as she leaves and I fully take in my new bedroom.  It’s so peaceful in here.  The walls are a muted brown and the décor is cream and chocolate with hints of deep green throughout.  I fall onto the bed and close my eyes, drifting asleep before I can even process the changes that have been sprung upon my life thanks to my mother.

***

I wake when I hear murmured voices filtering through from the hall.  After freshening up in the bathroom (which is fabulous, by the way) I make my way downstairs.  I notice it’s almost dark out now, and I wonder how long I slept for.

Just as I’m walking down the hall, a door to my left swings open and a guy barrels out, enveloped by a billowing cloud of steam.  He runs smack into me, knocking me off balance.  Just before my butt hits the floor, he reaches out and grabs my arm, tugging my body into his chest.  His naked, well defined, water-droplet covered, chest.

“Um, oh, um, I’m, um, gosh.  I’m so sorry,” I babble, feeling a deep blush covering my face.

He’s so beautiful.

I desperately try to avert my gaze from his chest, and in my rapid movements, my eyes make a monumental mistake.  They find his.  His eyes are the most interesting shade of aquamarine I’ve ever seen.  I could get lost in them all day.  Shaggy black hair falls into his eyes, sticking to his forehead, wet from his shower.  His jaw is square, chiseled and strong, and when his tongue snakes out to quickly lick his lips, I’m pretty sure I whimper.

I take a large, shaky step backwards, and embarrassingly, he keeps hold of me, as if knowing my knees have turned to mush and are threatening to give out on me at any moment.

“No need to be sorry.  I’m Brock.  You are?”

“Hi Brock, I’m Cassidy.”

His eyes narrow into little slits, depriving me of the powerful color behind them.

“Cassidy?  Well, sorry about running into you.  Catchya ‘round.”

Then he’s gone.  Holy shit if he is Charles’s son then I’m in some serious trouble.  Surely
he
wouldn’t be my
stepbrother
, would he?  For some reason, even thinking the word stepbrother when it’s associated with him leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“Cassidy, what are you doing standing in the middle of the hall?” my mother asks.

“Oh, I was just making my way downstairs.”

“Supper will be served within the hour.  If you’d like to take a stroll outdoors make sure you’re back in time.”

“Yes, Mother.”

I make my way outside and decide to sit on a large fallen log I spot just in the woods.  From here I can see the large tennis court and swimming pool with wooden decking out back.  There’s also a Jacuzzi and massive pool house.  Looking the opposite direction, I see the front entrance and long, tree-lined drive.  A sporty black convertible snakes up the drive and comes to a stop out front.  Not five seconds later, Brock is racing toward the car.  He climbs inside and I’m ashamed to say, my eyes are totally glued to his ass when he does.  He’s wearing faded jeans that were probably once a dark navy.  Covering his chest is a red button down.  The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and a couple of the top buttons are undone.  The car speeds away and I watch it drive until it’s out of sight.

I need to get a grip.

The problem is, I can’t explain the deep-rooted, instantaneous connection I feel to him.  It’s like a pull from deep in my gut, tugging on my emotions.

I walk around the entire mansion, taking in all its beauty, including the lush green grass and decorative flowers surrounding it, before making my way back inside for supper.  I’m hardly hungry after the late lunch we ate, so I hope it’s something light.

Supper consists of a light green salad with a portion of perfectly cooked salmon with crispy skin.  The serving is only small, so I manage to eat it all before I turn in for the night.

“I hope you’ll be happy here.  I’m very glad both you and your mother are here.  Perhaps in the morning you’ll be able to meet my children.”

Rather than tell him about my awkward meeting with Brock, I smile.  “It’s great to be here, Charles.  It was lovely to meet you, and I look forward to meeting your children as well.”

“Good night, Cassidy.”

“Good night, Charles.  Good night, Mother.”

“Sleep well,” Mother responds.

*~*

It’s lunchtime the next day when I officially meet Charles’s children.  Madeline is nineteen and studying teaching at a college nearby.  She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes.  She’s bubbly and friendly, and I think we’re going to get along well.

When Charles introduces me to Brock, I try my hardest to keep the scarlet blush from reaching from cheeks, but I know I’ve failed when I see his smirk.

“Nice to see you again, Cassidy.”

“I wasn’t aware you two knew each other,” Charles says, his brow furrowing.

“We don’t.  I mean, we met very briefly yesterday evening,” I explain.

“Well, now that’s taken care of, lunch will be served shortly in the dining room.”

Charles walks off in the direction of the dining room and I stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

“I
love
your skirt,” Madeline gushes.

“Thank you.  I love the entire Schartrues line.”