Be Mine (16 page)

I took it all in: the seemingly endless lane to the house, the sweet smelling magnolias blooming, and the one beautiful oak tree poised in the front of the house, for which the plantation was named many years ago.

The large white pillars that surrounded the main house had weathered many a storm, but were freshly painted white – a stark contrast to the red Georgia brick that made up the rest of the massive estate. The house looked as beautiful as ever. I pulled into the circular driveway and surveyed the immaculate lawn and flowers that seemed to grow effortlessly. This was God’s country, and He was a mindful caretaker of the land.

I walked into the house and was transported back two hundred years to a kinder way of life. The massive portraits of my parents graced the walls over the large mantel in the sitting room, as well as those of their parents and the many who came before. Our family spanned the walls of each ornate parlor and ascended the elaborate imperial staircase. The Callahans were, if not anything else, traditional and prolific. Hundred-year-old Oriental rugs lay on the original oak floors. The massive crystal chandelier that adorned the entrance hall was from Ireland, the homeland of my family. My great-great-grandmother had it shipped to America from Waterford before the War Between the States. The family had hidden it when the Yankees got too close to home, and many nearby plantations were robbed and burned to the ground. Mercifully, the Union Army took a shine to Lone Oak and used it as a meeting place, sparing it too much damage.

The old home was bright with the late afternoon sun, and the large floor-to-ceiling windows draped the house in warmth. It was amazing how something so old could remain so true to itself. Lone Oak had been the same for one hundred and ninety-seven years – the framework that showcased the accomplishments of generations of Callahans. Although I sometimes hesitated to admit it, Lone Oak was home.

I climbed the stairs and wandered into my bedroom to shed my coat and tie. Looking out the window over the back property, I was reminded of all that was here for me. When I left, I’d vowed to find my own way, leaving my father’s wishes for me far behind. I’d been away from Lone Oak while at prep school, college and then law school. I always thought I’d return, but the past few years had tainted me. I thought of Lone Oak as sacred, and I wasn’t sure now if I was worthy of its history or its obligation. I was the last Callahan in a long line of men, and although I knew I could never carry on the legacy, the obligation to be here tugged at me.

I washed my hands and splashed water on my face. Toweling off, I took a good, hard look in the mirror and rubbed my hands through my hair. My bloodshot eyes were framed with dark circles – evidence of the life I’d been leading.

As I began my trek back through the house to the study, I paused at the wedding portrait of my parents. They were so young and in love in the painting. It was hard to imagine now, but even as much of a hard-ass lawyer as my father had been, he was the kindest man in Alabama – especially when it came to my mother. He never allowed her to want for anything. He spent his life making sure she was completely and totally loved. Unlike him, I didn’t even know if I was capable of that kind of love. Just the same, growing up around them it was hard not to want what they had. I had fleeting thoughts of taking care of my own bride someday. But they were just that, fleeting thoughts.

I shook it all off as I made my way to the study to set up my makeshift office. As I sat down behind my dad’s desk, I began making a mental inventory of where I wanted to start at Autumn Valley. Number one on the list: Who was Sam Peterson?

COMING SOON

SEX, LIES & LIPSTICK

A Moonlight and Magnolias Novel Book 2