Free Four Seasons of Romance by Rachel Remington

afraid
I’m going to shame the Woods family name.”
    “You’ve already brought me shame—you and your choices!” her
father yelled.
    “Maybe that’s because I don’t give a shit about the family
name!” Catherine screamed back, no longer concerned about keeping her volume
down. “I don’t give two cents about this family. It’s a farce, anyway. You two
barely tolerate each other. What if I want to actually love the man I marry? Is
that such a crime?”
    Her father opened his mouth to speak, but Catherine was just
getting started. “I guess it is a crime because you wouldn’t even let me spend
time with the boy I loved. You robbed me of spending precious minutes with Leo,
and now, he’s gone forever. Finally, I have someone new in my life…   and you don’t care. It’s all about you! Your plan for my life. Your idea of a daughter you can be
proud of.”
    “Dear, we only want what’s best for you,” Elaine said.
    Catherine shook her head fiercely. “No, Mother, you want
what’s best for you .”
    The music from the front porch had ceased. They all stood
staring at one another, the veins popping out of their necks, regarding one
another in furious silence, a silence full of daggers.
    “Watch yourself, girl,” the judge cautioned. “I’ll take you
out of my will.”
    Catherine threw her head back and laughed. “Good, I’d
welcome it. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
    “Fine,” he said. “Your mother and I will leave everything to
your three siblings who know what it means to show their parents some respect.”
    Elaine’s eyes filled with tears, but Catherine wouldn’t let herself
be swayed, ire pumping through her veins, and little space for regret.
    “We’ll leave tonight,” she said, “and I’ll never come back
to Woodsville again.”
    “Very well,” Josiah said coolly. “You are no longer a
Woods—not in name, not in trust, not in my final will and testament.”
    Elaine’s shoulders shook silently as Josiah guided her to
the doorway and pushed her through it. He started to walk away himself, but
then paused, Catherine staring at him, her eyes ablaze, fists tightly clenched
in the weak lamplight.
    Her father cast one last look over his shoulder, but instead
of offering any token of sorrow or forgiveness, he simply shook his head.
“Good-bye, Catherine Delaney. Consider yourself disowned.”
     
    *
     
    Michael was waiting for her on the porch outside as she sank
into a rocking chair next to him, too exhausted to cry.
    “I heard,” he said, placing a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry.”
    “We’ll need to pack our things,” she said.
    “I’ll do it. We’ll be just fine.” But they wouldn’t be, even
if, at the time, Catherine had only the faintest idea why.
    The break with her parents seeped into their relationship
like lead from a water pipe. Michael’s music was his only income, a sporadic
one at best, and although Catherine longed for stability, she didn’t worry
about money; their feelings were what she held dear.
    But in 1952, she walked in on Michael with another woman.
He’d told her he was at a last-minute rehearsal for a special performance, when
in reality, he was with a waitress he’d used for fooling
around. Catherine had seen signs of his infidelity before, turning a blind eye
until now.
    Once the veil had fallen, she went through Michael’s pockets
and found love notes, napkins with lipstick marks, and even a pair of earrings
he had bought for someone else. To make matters worse, he wasn’t satisfied with
just one girlfriend but needed three .
    “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” she asked after
returning to collect her things.
    “I hoped you wouldn’t,” he said. “You’re so different from
those girls—so pure and faithful and trustworthy. It’s as if you’re in a
different stratosphere.”
    “Yes,” she agreed, “a stratosphere that no longer includes
you.” The disappointment stung deep, and, for the first time, she