Son of a Preacher Man (3 page)

To this day, Nadya had no idea who her father was or what he’d done when Talaitha showed up on his doorstep sixteen, pregnant and with nothing more than the clothes on her back. Obviously, he’d helped her somehow, because even though they lived on the edge of poverty, Nadya hadn’t gone hungry or homeless.

Maybe that was what her mama had left with the lawyer in Dale? Could she have left the name of her father in a letter? Was that why Nadya had to pick it up herself?

Nervousness turned the coffee in her stomach to acid as she considered the possibility. Did she even want to know who he was? Could he be someone she knew from town? She’d already worked out that he had to have been married, because his name wasn’t on her birth certificate, and Mama had never breathed a word of his identity.

Pushing down the nausea with an act of will, Nadya decided she didn’t want to know the man who’d donated his sperm so she could come into existence. Her mother had raised her to know right from wrong, to value herself for who she was on the inside and to make her own place in the world. Other than showing up for father-daughter field day at school, Nadya didn’t really see where he could have added anything to her life.

So why was she going to Georgia anyway? She could turn the car around and book a flight to the Caribbean like Sandra had said. Or she could follow her mama’s lead and just drive wherever the road took her. There was nothing for her in Dale, and there hadn’t been for over a decade.

Except there was. Her mama had left one last message to her, and she had to read it. Nadya doubted it would give her closure, but she couldn’t leave it hanging either. With any luck at all, she’d meet with the lawyer on Monday, go to probate court on Tuesday and have all the loose ends tied up and be out of Georgia by the end of the week.

Maybe she’d take an extended road trip for the remainder of her enforced vacation time. A few weeks wandering America’s byways would be a way to pay homage to her mama and take a much needed vacation all in one.

But first she had to get through Dale.

Chapter Two

“Sandra, should I go androgynous or professionally sexy?” Nadya asked, her cell phone on speaker.

“You’re meeting with the old town lawyer who doesn’t believe in technology, right?”

“Yes. My appointment is in an hour and a half. If I don’t get moving soon, I’m going to be late, but I’m dithering over what to wear. I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot—you’re preparing for a meeting with an unknown. Are your hair and makeup done?”

“Yes. Understated makeup, French twist with the hair, pearl earrings and matching necklace.”

“Gold watch?”

“Yup. I just don’t know whether to wear the pinstriped suit or the black skirt and jacket.”

“Go for the skirt. It says you’re not afraid of your femininity but you’re all business. Do you have a lacy camisole to go under it?”

“No, but my slip has lace.”

“Perfect. If you need to manipulate the old bastard, unbutton the suit jacket until the lace shows.”

Nadya laughed and felt ten times better as she hung up. Sandra was right, she was preparing for the unknown. Now that she thought about it, it was more like she was gearing up for battle. A battle she’d been fighting most of her adult life.

With every accomplishment she’d earned, a part of her said, “Take that!” to the people of Dale who thought she’d never amount to anything. That was why she’d used her last bonus to buy the black BMW. Having a car in the city was an enormous expense. It would have made more sense to fly down and rent a car, but she’d gone out and bought the BMW as soon as the check cleared.

No one would believe the poor gypsy girl with the wild hair and hand-me-down clothes would drive into Dale in a foreign luxury car wearing pearls and a five-hundred-dollar suit. Maybe she’d take a stroll down Main Street just to let all the local gossips get a good look at her Jimmy Choo shoes and Kate Spade bag.

Lord, if her mama hadn’t been cremated, she’d be turning over in her grave right about now. Nadya laughed at herself as she slid into the leather interior of the BMW. Expensive trappings had never mattered to Tala, and seeing Nadya dressed like one of the
gadzé
would have made her mama shake her head in disgust.

The drive to Dale was only thirty miles, but it was all winding, narrow, tree-lined roads. At least they were all paved now. When she was growing up, much of the route into the hills had been gravel.

Acid churned in her stomach as she approached the town limits. God, she’d thought she’d never see this place again. She’d placed Dale firmly in her past the day she’d found out what the good people of the town did to her home based on the jealous ravings of one woman. What the hell was she doing back here? Was whatever her mother left for her worth seeing this place again? Bringing back all the memories of the cuts and slurs that had been heaped upon her her entire life?

Yes. If for no other reason than to shove it in their faces that she’d made it. While they were still living in the back end of beyond, she was in New York City working for a prestigious law firm.

The sign declaring
Dale, Georgia, population 322
looked old and weathered. The gilt lettering had faded completely, and the black numbers were a watery gray now. Its state reflected the town itself. Several shops she remembered from her childhood were abandoned with faint
For Sale or Lease
signs in the windows. Weeds sprouted up through cracks in the sidewalk and were about the only things growing. She guessed even the Georgia sun couldn’t bake kudzu.

Nadya glanced at the lawyer’s address again to make sure she had the right place. The small, glass-fronted store looked more like a pharmacy than a law office. She hadn’t expected an office complex like the one she worked in, but this was ridiculous. Sure enough though, hanging off the door knob was a sign stating this was the office of one Marshal T. Hornblower, Esquire.

Bracing herself for the heat and humidity, she checked her appearance in the rearview mirror and reapplied her lipstick before stepping out of the air-conditioned coolness of the car.

“Mama, if you’re listening, help me through this.”

The heat hit her like a wet slap, and sweat immediately beaded up between her breasts. She was thankful she’d ditched the idea of nylons. The jacket she wore wasn’t exactly cool, but at least the meager breeze could waft across her bare legs.

A dog of undetermined breed barked unenthusiastically at her from next door where it was tied in the shade of the green-and-white-striped overhang. It didn’t even bother to get up. Did it ever get this hot in New York?

Nadya knocked at the door, then entered at a hollered, “Come on in!”

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight to the dimness of the office—such as it was. The glass window was covered by a blind that was frayed around the edges. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, and a window air-conditioning unit chugged away at the back of the office. There was only one desk out front and a small kitchenette in the back corner.

“I’ll be right with you,” the same voice that had told her to come in called from behind the refrigerator door.

Seconds later, an older gentleman who could have been Colonel Sanders’s twin brother, complete with white suit and trimmed beard, backed out from the depths of the fridge with two sweating glasses of iced tea.

“You must be Nadze
…
ah…Nadzedha Sarvo?”

“You can call me Nadya. And you’re Mr. Hornblower?”

“Yes indeedie. Why don’t you sit down here and have a glass of tea while I get your papers in order?”

“Thank you.” Nadya bit back the urge to tell him to get on with it. This was the South, and there was no such thing as getting straight to business. She’d have to make polite chitchat for close to half an hour before he finally got to the point as to why she was here. Might as well sit in the uncomfortable guest chair and bide her time.

Her gaze wandered the room as she sipped the sweet tea. It had enough sugar in it to keep ten dentists employed full time, but was ice-cold and refreshing. She sat up straighter when she spotted a fairly modern computer right next to a printer/copier/fax machine similar to the one she had in her office.

She’d been had.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hornblower? I thought you told me you couldn’t fax me the paperwork I needed to sign? I see you have a fax machine right there.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t. I said I was unable to. My client wished for you to receive the information in person.”

“Really? When, exactly, did my mother retain you? She hasn’t been in Dale for twelve years, and I don’t remember there being a lawyer’s office here when we left.”

“Wasn’t your mama who retained me. It was your daddy.”

All the blood drained out of her head as she stared at the old man. Her ears heard the words, but her brain couldn’t process the information. Her father had retained the lawyer? What? If she could have felt her legs, she’d have gotten up and walked right out of the office, but she was afraid she’d fall on her face, her legs were so numb.

“I thought you said you had paperwork I needed from my mama?” was all she managed to say.

“No, I said I had some paperwork from your deceased parent. You jumped to the conclusion it was your mama, and I didn’t correct you.”

“I see.” Sneaky bastard. What would her father want with her now? She was thirty years old. “Wait, you said deceased parent. Does that mean my father is dead?”

“I’m ’fraid so. Your daddy was a good friend of mine, and it was his dying wish that I contact you with the details of his will. I have a letter here for you from him.”

“I don’t want it. I didn’t care what he had to say when he was alive. I damn well don’t care what he has to say now that he’s dead.”

“Don’t you even want to know who he is? What he left you in his will?”

“No. If that’s all, I’ll be leaving now.” Her legs were wobbly when she stood, but they held her up.

“Now just hold on there a minute. Tell you what I’m gonna do. You’ve had a mighty big shock. Why don’t you think about things for a day or two, and if you decide you want to hear what your daddy had to say, well, I’ll be here. If you don’t have the courage to face the truth, you can just run on back to New York and I’ll lock the papers in my safe.”

Her temper flared at the insult, but she bit her tongue before she could respond to the bait. She’d had years of practice controlling her temper; she wasn’t going to blow her top because this hillbilly called her a coward.

“Good day, Mr. Hornblower. I’ll see myself out.” Nadya gathered her purse and fled the office with all the decorum she could considering her brain was on autopilot.

The sun and heat assaulted her once again, but this time she barely registered the attack. All she wanted to do was get away before she did something stupid like turn around and beg the old bastard for the information. She was on the road to her former home before she realized it.

Old habits are hard to break.

Whenever she’d felt confused or upset, she’d always retreated to the safety of the woods and her special spot. Here she was again, heading for her sanctuary without even realizing it. The cabin was as good a place as any to regroup though, so she continued on to Deer Creek Road.

The twists and turns were as familiar to her as an old shoe. This part of town had never had any stores or development so there was nothing to fall on hard times. The trees might be a little taller, but they were still the same. There was a sign nailed to a tree by the turn-off to her drive that stated
No Trespassing
—that was new, but that was about it.

For the first time in years, a sense of peace washed over her as she carefully turned into the drive. Stones pinged off the underside of her car, but she didn’t care. The trees formed a canopy that shaded her from the intensity of the sun, so she rolled her windows down and continued to creep forward.

There was the tree she’d sideswiped when she’d first gotten her license. She’d been so proud of the car she’d bought with her own money. The rundown station wagon had cost five hundred dollars. She’d worked nights and weekends and any time Mrs. Farley, her friend Mary Ellen’s mom, had needed her in order to earn the money. It wasn’t worth the money it took to fill the gas tank, but it had gotten them out of Dale.

Damn, she’d been so wrapped up in the bombshell Hornblower dropped on her, she hadn’t stopped to see if Mrs. Farley’s general store was still there. She hoped it hadn’t been one of the places with
For Sale or Lease
signs in the window. It would be nice to see Mrs. Farley again, and maybe find out what Mary Ellen was doing. They’d lost touch after Nadya had left Georgia. She’d spent every free moment either studying to keep up her GPA so she wouldn’t lose her scholarship or working as many hours as she could just to pay living expenses. There hadn’t been time or money left over for long-distance phone calls.

Anticipation soared as she rounded the last curve before the cabin, then plummeted when she saw a police car parked smack dab in front of the porch. A police officer leaned against the squad car, his tanned arms crossed over his chest. The brim of his “Smokey the Bear” hat shaded his face.

Nadya parked the BMW and put on her best I-have-every-right-to-be-here expression before climbing out.