Restless Heart (22 page)

She shook her head and frowned. “He’s not here to see me. He’s asked for you. Mr. Bennington, this is my husband, Sam Carver.”

The nattily dressed man held out his hand. Sam tried to
wipe off some of the sawdust, but his hands were filthy. Mr. Bennington shook his hand anyway.

“Ty Bennington. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carver. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you favor your mother quite a bit. You have her look about you.” Mr. Ben-nington seemed to be in his late thirties, with light brown hair and brown eyes.

Mention of Sam’s mother made him start. “How the hell did you know my mother?”

“Sam, be nice,” Angeline scolded. “Just listen to what he has to say.”

“I met your mother about thirty-two years ago, right after she married your father. I was just a boy, but I remember how beautiful she was. Her hair was fascinating to a six-year-old.” He grinned.

“She did have beautiful hair. Now tell me what you’re doing here and why.” Sam was done trying to figure out what the stranger wanted.

“I work for Bennington and Hargrove, a law firm in Denver started by my grandfather and his partner. My family has always handled legal matters for your father’s family.” The wind blew a cloud of sawdust on the attorney but, to his credit, he simply ignored it.

“My father doesn’t have a family.” Sam had asked many times as a child if he had a grandpa like his friends.

“Yes, actually, he does. Why don’t we go inside and sit down? I have some papers for you to sign.”

“Papers?” Sam had no idea what Bennington wanted, but the mention of papers made him suspicious.

“I will explain everything, I promise. Your wife offered me some coffee. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate a cup. I’m parched from the ride over.” Bennington watched him with a gaze that could have been honest or deceptive. Sam couldn’t tell which.

“Fine, let’s go inside and I’ll wash up.” He met Angeline’s
gaze and she shrugged her shoulders. Whatever Bennington wanted, it would be a mystery until the man got a cup of coffee.

The three of them walked back inside to find Lettie at the kitchen table. She glanced up at them, her gaze turning distrustful when she spotted the stranger.

“Who the hell is that?”

Bennington stared at her with surprise clearly written on his face. “I’m Ty Bennington.”

“I don’t know who you are, Ty Bennington, but I don’t take kindly to strangers staring at me.” She got up and left the room.

“You’ll have to forgive Lettie; she doesn’t like strangers much.” Angeline headed for the coffeepot on the stove.

“I could tell.” Bennington sat down and opened his case.

Sam washed up in the sink quickly. He was curious to figure out what the man was talking about, whether he was loco, and most of all, whether he had information about his father’s family. All his life, his pa insisted he had no family—no uncles, grandpas, or cousins. His mother’s family had moved around so much, she’d lost contact with them when Sam was a small boy. He had had no one but his parents until he met Angeline. Now he only had her.

Angeline poured three cups of coffee just as Sam finished drying his hands. They sat down with Mr. Bennington, who had placed several documents on the table.

“I don’t know what your father told you about his family. I’ll tell you what I know. He was born Michael Andrew Carver on February first, eighteen-twenty to Benson and Mary Carver in Denver, Colorado. He was the only son in a family of four children. His three sisters stayed in Denver while your father, well, he had a wandering spirit.” Benning-ton smiled. “After he turned eighteen, he spent a few years exploring and returned with your mother in eighteen-forty-two. She was already pregnant with you.”

“That sounds about right. I was born in January eighteen-forty-three.” Sam sipped the coffee while his insides were jumping like frogs. He had no knowledge about his father’s life or where he’d come from. The fact that his father had
three
sisters was simply astonishing.

“Your mother was gracious, beautiful, and soft-spoken, but she was also half-Indian, the daughter of a white man and an Indian woman. The elder Mr. Carver, he didn’t appreciate his only son and heir marrying what he termed a ‘savage.’ After what I hear were epic battles over the marriage, Benson Carver disowned his son and kicked him out of the house.” Bennington looked apologetic, but the information was devastating nonetheless.

“This is why he told me he had no family? Because his father was an ass?” Sam was angry and disappointed. To think his own family had shunned him before he was even born left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Benson Carver was somewhat overbearing. He used to scare me when I was a child. Mary Carver was just as sweet and soft-spoken as Sparrow. In fact, they got along well. So well, in fact, I discovered your mother corresponded with your grandmother for years after they left Denver.” Benning-ton set down a stack of yellowed envelopes tied with a pink ribbon. “When Mary passed away two years ago, she left these in trust for you.”

Sam felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the stack of letters, knowing his mother had learned to write after insisting his father teach her. Now he knew she’d done it to keep in contact with Sam’s grandmother. Yet she’d never said a word about any of it to Sam. His grandmother had been alive until only two years ago. He’d missed the opportunity to know her. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“The firm knew where you and your family lived in
Wyoming. We’ve kept track of you under the provisions of Mary’s will. She had taken over the business ten years ago when your grandfather died. The business belonged to your father, although we’ve held it in trust for him. We tried to contact him, but he never responded to any correspondence.” Bennington handed Sam a thick document. “This is Mary’s will, naming your father, Michael, as the heir to Carver Industries. In the event of his death, you are the named heir.”

Angeline moved her chair closer to his while Sam tried his best not to run from the house. He didn’t understand any of it and he was too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. His angel, however, saved him yet again.

“Mr. Bennington, this is a lot of information. Are you saying that Sam has a family in Denver, that he owns something called Carver Industries, and you’ve come here to give him the legal paperwork for all of it?” She held on to Sam’s hand with a firm grip.

“Yes, that’s a good summary of everything.” Ty looked apologetic. “I know it’s a lot of information, but if you’ll travel to Denver, I can show you all of it.”

“What do you mean, all of it? What is Carver Industries?” Angeline sounded much calmer than Sam was. In fact, she was beginning to sound angry.

“Carver Industries is a company begun by Sam’s grandfather. It has become the leading transportation provider in Colorado and beyond. He began with stagecoaches and wagons, and expanded into trains. Denver is a major shipping hub providing goods to people all over the west. Your company alone is worth approximately fifteen million dollars.”

A blackness roared through Sam’s head as he gaped at the lawyer. He could not handle any more information. Not one shred of it. Sam left the house at a dead run, leaving Angeline to deal with the lawyer. He didn’t want the man to see him cry.

* * *

Angeline stared at the lawyer, who stared at Sam’s retreating back. She was shaking, wondering if this man was a shyster or if everything he’d said was true. If it was, then Michael had given up a fortune for his Sparrow. Love had sustained him all his adult life, and it had helped him raise Sam and thrive without much to live on.

It was amazing, astonishing, and somewhat humbling. She had liked Michael. He’d been a good man and a good father. There were so many questions she had for him, ones that would never be answered now.

“You’ve come now because Michael is dead,” Angeline stated flatly. “Where were you two years ago?”

“I told you, we tried to contact him, but without success.” Bennington gestured to the papers. “We’ve sent copies of Mary’s will and the business information on numerous occasions.”

“Michael was suffering from a loss of faculties the last two years. He was forgetful, confused and, oftentimes, living in the past rather than the present.” She touched the edge of the will with one finger. “He probably didn’t understand what you sent him, or perhaps the mere mention of his family made him so upset he burned the papers without reading them.”

Ty looked stricken. “I had no idea.”

“Of course, you didn’t. Sam hid it from everyone. Sparrow died ten years ago, so there was no one to watch over Michael but his son.” Angeline stacked everything neatly on the table. “It’s going to take some time for Sam to accept all this. If you can leave these here, I will make sure he reads through them.”

“Yes, of course, these are copies for him. I was planning on staying here in town until everything was signed. We’ve had an offer to purchase Carver Industries and I have to present it to your husband, in addition to the rest of the legal paperwork giving him possession of the house and assets in
Denver.” Ty rose to his feet. “I’ll be over at the hotel. I was also told they serve good meals at the Blue Plate.”

Angeline smiled. “The food is wonderful there. You’ll not leave hungry.”

“Okay then, I’ll wait to hear from you or Sam.” Ty took her hand and shook it gently. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carver.”

Angeline walked the lawyer out the front door, then leaned her forehead against the jamb. She was shaken and confused, but not nearly as confused as Sam was. He was hurt and she knew there was only one place he would go—the lake.

Sam contemplated going swimming, but the water was still very cold. It might do him good to jump into the cool water, help numb the confusion and pain he felt. His parents had kept secrets from him, and not just little white lies told to children. These were huge, life-changing secrets.

He felt betrayed.

Soft footsteps behind him didn’t make him move an inch. He knew by her scent that it was his angel. She sat down beside him, as she’d done before, and looked out on the lake with him. Without a word, she simply took his hand and sat beside him, giving him her quiet strength.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, but not far. He’s got papers for you to sign so he’s staying at the hotel until everything’s done.”

Sam nodded. The lawyer wasn’t to blame. He was a messenger sent to bring information, not to wreak havoc, yet that was exactly what he’d done.

“I’m not very good company right now.”

“I know. That’s why I’m protecting everyone else in town from you.” Angeline sounded completely matter-of-fact.

Sam managed to squeeze her hand lightly. “I’m angry with them.”

“I would be too.”

“They kept information from me, kept my family from me. Dammit, they lied to me.” Sam’s chest hurt just contemplating how much lying his parents had done.

“They loved you and they loved each other. Your father gave up his family because he loved Sparrow so much. It wasn’t his fault his father could not see how wonderful she was. Many people are taught to hate, taught to never see beyond the outer shell of a person.” Angeline smiled sadly.

Sam thought about the fact he owned a business worth a staggering sum of money when yesterday he was counting pennies to buy nails. Then his mind returned to what Ange-line had said about his parents’ love. His father had been devoted to his mother, blindly in love until the day she died, and then part of him died as well. He could have returned to Denver then, but he didn’t. Sam would never know why.

“People make choices, decisions they can never reverse. It doesn’t mean they’re bad people. It just means they’re human and they shape their lives by those decisions.” She kissed the back of his hand. “I would give up my life for you, Sam. I know your parents had the same kind of love.”

Sam’s anger began to dissipate. She was right, of course. He would give up everything for Angeline, no matter what the consequences. The fact was, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. When his mother had gotten sick, his father spent every waking moment taking care of her until she wasted away to nothing. The pain he suffered must have been unbearable. No wonder he didn’t return to Denver. He’d built his life in Forestville and he would have wanted to stay where Sparrow was buried, never straying too far from her grave.

They sat side by side for a bit longer. Sam felt more in control of himself, calmer and ready to learn more about the Carvers in Denver.

“Did Bennington leave the papers for me?”

“Yes, I asked him to. They’re on the table whenever you’re ready to look at them.” She got to her feet and held out her hand.

“The letters too?” He accepted her help and stood.

“Yes, the letters too.”

Sam pulled Angeline into an embrace and held her tight, their hearts beating against each other. He felt a breeze on his neck again and closed his eyes. Sam wasn’t quite ready to forgive his mother, but he was done being angry with her. It was time to get more information and then decide what he needed to do.

He kissed Angeline, a sweet, hot kiss that made his body ache. She sucked in a lungful of air when he finally let her loose.

“Well, that was nice.” She raised one blond brow. “More later?”

Sam laughed and turned to walk back home with his wife, his love, tucked under his arm. He’d need her strength to get through the next few days and even beyond. His life had changed last fall when Angeline arrived in Forestville, and again when she became his wife. Now it seemed his life was taking another sharp right turn and he had no doubt it was going to be a rocky path.

The wind was at their back as they walked home. The spirits were already guiding him to where he needed to be.

Angeline watched him as he read through the letters. She didn’t ask to see them or even what he found in their yellowed depths. It seemed better to simply be there if he needed her.

She spent her time making the kitchen into something that functioned as a kitchen rather than a dirty dish storage area. Somehow the two men had forgotten how to clean up after themselves. The chore of cleaning gave her the opportunity to watch him without actually watching him.