The Father for Her Son Read online

  Instead, maybe he needed to start from scratch—to build a new love between them. One that was stronger than Marlee’s doubts and fears or the past that haunted them still.

  MARLEE SPLASHED in the water with Greg, but every part of her was aware of Troy, across the pool. He sat on the rocks like a brooding Greek god risen from the waters. He’d said he loved her as if it was the most logical thing in the world. The idea that his love for her had survived for seven years with no encouragement both touched and frightened her. What could be more romantic? But how in the world could she live up to that kind of emotion?

  The day she’d learned Troy had been convicted, she’d forced herself to put aside her love for him, as if it was a family heirloom that she’d packed in a box and set out at the curb for the garbage collectors. She told herself she was done with Troy and with love.

  Now both were back in her life and she didn’t know what to do. He was Greg’s father, so she couldn’t send him away and, truthfully, she no longer wanted to.

  She just wanted her life the way it was before he showed up—uncomplicated. Predictable. Controlled.

  Sure, things were going well, but in her experience, that only meant something bad was waiting around the corner. As a child, every time she’d begin to believe her dad would stay home and they’d be a real family, he’d get arrested and disappear from their lives again. Then she met Troy and thought she might finally have the family she’d dreamed of, but that hadn’t lasted either. If she let Troy back into her life now, how long before things soured again?

  Seated in the water beside her, Greg yawned loudly. “You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?” Marlee said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “No, I want to stay,” he said, but it was a token protest.

  Marlee stood and helped him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get changed and go gather up our picnic stuff.”

  As they walked around the side of the pool, she spotted Troy ahead of them, just disappearing into the men’s changing rooms. “Go on inside with Troy,” she told Greg. “I’ll meet you out here when you’re done.”

  Ten minutes later she was back outside, warmer and dryer, her wet hair in a French braid trailing down her back. Trish stood by the low concrete wall that separated the pool from the dressing rooms. “Where’s the G-man?” she asked.

  “Getting changed with Troy.” Marlee adjusted her grip on her tote bag.

  “I thought he was with you.”

  She turned and found Troy leaning against the wall behind her. “I saw him go into the men’s room, right behind you,” she said.

  “I never saw him.”

  Marlee felt her panic rising and fought for control. “He has to be here somewhere.” She frantically scanned the area near the pool. But there was no sign of Greg in the crush of people in and around the water.

  Troy turned to Trish. “Why don’t you walk over to the picnic tables and see if you spot him on the way.”

  Trish nodded. “I’ll get some of the others to search with us.”

  Trish sprinted toward the picnic grounds. Troy put his hand on Marlee’s shoulder. His warm strength seemed to flow into her, steadying her somehow. She looked into his eyes again. He tried to reassure her. “We’ll find him, Marl. We will.”

  She swallowed and nodded, tears clogging her throat.

  “I’ll check the pool,” he said. “Maybe he decided to go back in.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He shook his head. “No, you wait here, in case he’s trying to find you.”

  “All right.” She watched him walk away. When he disappeared around the corner, she hugged her arms across her chest and fought back tears. Where was her baby? The thought of losing Greg made her ice cold all over.

  She stared at the door to the men’s room, scarcely daring to blink. She’d seen Greg go inside, she was sure. So where was he now?

  Trish ran up, Mr. Morgenroth in tow. “Any sign of him?” Mr. M.’s face was gray with worry.

  Marlee shook her head, unable to speak. She glanced toward the pool.

  “There he is!”

  Mr. Morgenroth pointed to the pool entrance, but Marlee had already spotted Greg and Troy. Her son rode on Troy’s shoulders, clutching a handful of Troy’s hair in one hand, the other hand curled into a tight fist.

  Marlee pushed her way toward them. “Where have you been?” She put one hand on Greg’s knee, as if to prove he was safe.

  “I had to get my rock collection.” He opened his hand to reveal an array of colored stones.

  “He was standing in the shallows picking up rocks when I found him,” Troy said. “He must have slipped out of the change room when neither of us was looking.”

  Marlee was shaky with relief. Only the presence of her colleagues around them kept her from throwing her arms around Troy and thanking him for finding her baby.

  She saw how tightly he held Greg, and read emotion in his gaze that matched her own. He handed the boy to her, but his eyes lingered on the child.

  She realized how glad she was that Troy had been with her just now. She’d never known how good it could be to have another person share the pain and burdens of parenthood as well as the joy. For a brief moment she could see a different picture of the future. Maybe she’d made a mistake in protecting herself so much. Maybe she did have room in her life for someone else—as long as that someone was Troy.

  “SO THIS IS WHERE you work.”

  At the sound of the familiar feminine voice, Troy peered out from behind the engine housing of a ’44 Triumph. His gaze traveled up black slacks covering firm thighs and a trim waist to a pale yellow blouse, and finally came to rest on Marlee’s face.

  He stood and reached for a rag to wipe the grease from his hands. “What are you doing here, Marlee?”

  She ran her hand along the seat of a 1948 Harley Panhead parked by the door. “Maybe I wanted to buy a motorcycle.”

  “That one’s not for sale.” He pushed himself away from the bench and walked over to a ’96 Honda Royal Star. It was painted candy-apple red, with chrome pipes and fenders. Its red leather saddle was tricked out with silver studs. “How about this one? Perfect for running down to the grocery store on Saturday mornings.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Sure you don’t want to give her a test-drive?”

  Marlee shook her head, then walked away from him, across the garage. Her high heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor. “Are you here by yourself?” she asked.

  “Wiley’s up at the office. Everybody else is at lunch.” She stopped in front of a Snap-on Tools calendar, her back to Troy. “This certainly brings back memories,” he said. “I remember when you used to hang around the garage where I worked when we met.”

  “That seems like such a long time ago now.” She faced him again. “I’ve been thinking about you and Greg. I’ve decided we should tell him the truth.”

  Her words flooded him with relief. “That’s great. How do you want to handle it? I’d like us to tell him together. I can stop by tonight—”

  “Hang on.” She held up her hand. “School is out in ten days. We should tell him then.”

  “Ten days?” Troy felt much of his elation fade. “Why do we need to wait?”

  “I have a few days’ vacation scheduled then. That way I can spend more time with him to make sure he’s okay.”

  “You worry too much. He’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t know that,” Marlee snapped. She twisted her hands together, then spoke in a calmer voice. “We’ll be able to plan exactly what to say, and to think of the right answers to questions he’ll probably have.”

  And Marlee could prepare herself for how her own life was about to change. Troy understood that without her saying so.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll tell him when school is out.” After six years, what was another ten days?

  “Thank you.”

  He wanted to pull her close and promise her everything would b
e all right. He might have done so if the front door hadn’t opened and Scotty hadn’t strolled in. Clean-shaven and dressed in a new work shirt and jeans, Scotty no longer looked like a street bum, though the prison tattoos on his forearms branded him as an ex-con.

  “Hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Scotty made a move as if to exit.

  “It’s okay,” Troy said. “Marlee, you remember Scotty. Scotty, this is Marlee.”

  “How do you do?” Scotty came closer and offered his hand.

  Marlee shook it, though she’d gone a shade paler. “I didn’t know the two of you worked together,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Scotty said. “Small world, ain’t it? Good to see you again. If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.” He went through a door at the far side of the shop, and shut it behind him.

  Marlee frowned at Troy. “What is he doing here?” she asked.

  “He’s just started as a porter—cleaning up, running parts, whatever we need.”

  “You got him the job, didn’t you?” The words were more an accusation than a question.

  “I told him we needed someone.”

  “But he’s an ex-con.”

  “Everyone here is. Even Wiley. It’s what he does—gives jobs to guys just out of prison to help them get back on their feet.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “How are you ever going to put your past behind you if you keep hanging out with other ex-cons?”

  “We’re not hanging out. We’re working.”

  “It would be better if you worked somewhere else.”

  “And it would be great if I had a rich uncle who died and left me ten million bucks. But that’s not going to happen, any more than most places are going to hire a guy with a record. I’m lucky to have a job at all.”

  “Fine. But I don’t want Greg exposed to any of your coworkers.”

  Her attitude grated. If his colleagues weren’t good enough to come near their son, where did that leave Troy? She said she’d changed her mind about him, but had she really? “They’re not contagious,” he said. “And neither am I.”

  But Marlee’s expression didn’t soften. “I don’t know them and I don’t want them around my son.”

  “Fine. I won’t invite any of them over for dinner. But if Greg wants to see where I work, I’m going to show him. And if he asks me about prison, I’m going to answer his questions as honestly as I can.”

  She shook her head. “That’s part of your past. Why can’t we try to forget it ever happened?”

  “You mean lie? Tell him I was just ‘away’ for all these years? Where? On a mission to Mars, or stranded on a desert island?”

  “I didn’t say we had to lie. We can tell him you broke the law and were punished for it and it’s not something we need to talk about.”

  “Not talking is what got us into this mess in the first place—you refusing to acknowledge me after I was arrested, so that Greg didn’t even know I existed. And me not asking more questions of Raymond before I agreed to go with him the night of the robbery.”

  “I did what I thought was best.”

  “I know you did. But pretending the past never happened doesn’t make it go away. It’s better to be up-front and face reality. We’ll both be there to help Greg cope.”

  “Fine.” She was still clearly upset, but Troy felt he’d pushed her far enough for one afternoon. “I really have to go now,” she said. She started toward the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot. Greg wanted me to invite you over Saturday. He wants us to grill burgers.”

  “What about you, Marlee? Do you want me to come?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I think it would be nice.” She sounded breathless, and before he could reply, she whirled around and hurried through the door.

  Troy turned back to the Triumph. When would Marlee stop running away from him and run to him instead?

  The office door opened and Scotty stepped out. “Who’s Greg?” he asked.

  “You were eavesdropping.”

  Scotty shrugged. “Good way to learn stuff. So, who’s Greg?”

  “Her son.” My son. But he had to keep that secret for ten more days.

  Scotty sat on a stool in one corner of the garage and lit a cigarette, then picked up a newspaper from the tool bench and began flipping through it. Troy knelt once more in front of the Triumph. Marlee was going to have to get over her fear of his past if they were ever going to be a couple again. He couldn’t walk on eggshells around her, afraid to mention his past in case he upset her. And though he would never want Greg to think prison or the people in it were cool, he didn’t want his son to be afraid of him, either.

  “Well, what do you know,” Scotty said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

  “What?” Troy glanced over his shoulder.

  “Friend of mine’s getting a big award from the mayor today.” He pointed to an article at the bottom of the front page. “Frank Britton. Says here he saved a woman from a fire. You know him?”

  “Never met the guy.” Frank had been “away” while Troy and Marlee were dating.

  “Think I’ll go down and say hello,” Scotty said. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you. Frank’s a great guy.”

  “No, thanks.” Part of him was curious to meet the man who’d figured so large in Marlee’s life, but he didn’t see how any good could come of it. “I’ve got plenty of work to do around here.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Scotty set aside the paper. “Didn’t Wiley want us to go pick up that custom trike over on Riverside this afternoon?”

  “Someone needs to, yeah. You can go.”

  Scotty shook his head. “Wiley took the trailer with him this morning. But if you ride over there with me, you can drive the trike back here.”

  “Or we could wait until tomorrow when we have the trailer.”

  “Wiley wanted it today. Besides, it’s a beautiful day. Don’t you want to get out of this place for a while?”

  Through the open shop door, Troy could see a patch of bright blue sky above a fringe of green trees. It was the kind of scenery he’d dreamed about when he was behind bars. He tossed the wrench he’d been holding on to the workbench. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to run over and pick up that trike,” he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SCOTTY GRABBED THE KEYS and slid into the driver’s seat of the old pickup Wiley kept for transporting parts. Troy buckled his seatbelt and tried to shake the feeling that Scotty was up to something. Maybe it was because he’d given in so easily when Troy had nixed the idea of visiting Frank Britton. And then he’d been so eager to run this errand….

  Troy’s worst suspicions were confirmed when Scotty turned, not onto Riverside Drive, but onto Fifth, headed toward the Travis County Courthouse. “What are you doing?” Troy demanded.

  “I just want to stop a minute and say hi to Frank.” He gunned the engine, then swerved into a parking space. He was out of the truck before Troy could grab him, and he took the keys with him.

  Troy went after him and caught up with him just in time to see the mayor shake hands with a slight, older man as camera flashes exploded around them. While reporters swarmed to interview the hero of the day, Troy stopped short and studied Marlee’s father.

  Frank Britton was maybe five-ten, with thick gray hair and the weathered face of a man ten years his senior. His suit was too big in the shoulders, but he stood ramrod straight, unintimidated by the mass of people around him. He smiled, revealing even white teeth Troy suspected were false, and cracked jokes with the reporters, clearly enjoying the attention.

  At last the press turned away and the mayor and his staff went inside, leaving Frank on the steps, clutching a small walnut plaque and the envelope with the check that came with the award.

  “Hey, Frank, congratulations.” Scotty bounded up the steps and shook Frank’s hand. “You remember me, don’t you—Richard Scott—Scotty.”

  “Hey, Scotty. ’Course I remember you.” Frank glanced at Troy.

  “This is m
y pal Troy.” Scotty clapped Troy on the shoulder. “He wanted to meet you.”

  Troy glared at Scotty. The little weasel would pay for this, he silently promised. He realized Frank was waiting for him to say something. “Congratulations,” he said.

  Frank admired the plaque. “Yeah, this was pretty nice. I never expected it, of course. I just did what any right-thinking person would.”

  Troy had the feeling Frank had said these words a hundred times since the fire. They rolled off his tongue with an ease that could only come from repetition.

  “So what you up to these days?” Scotty asked as the three men descended the courthouse steps and started down the sidewalk.

  “Nothing much,” Frank said.

  Scotty lowered his voice. “You got anything going on? I could use the work,” he said.

  “You have a job,” Troy said.

  “You know what I mean.” Scotty turned to Frank. “I’m cleaning up at the motorcycle shop where Troy’s a mechanic, but I’m always on the lookout for a better-paying gig.”

  “I’m retired,” Frank said, staring straight ahead.

  “It’s okay,” Scotty said. “You can talk around Troy. He’s been inside.” He put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Let’s go get a beer and talk about it.”

  “Leave me out of this.” Troy grabbed the truck keys from Scotty’s hand and took a step back.

  “Come on, man,” Scotty said. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t use some extra cash. I’ll bet Frank knows where we could get it.”

  Troy shook his head. “I’ve got too much at stake to screw up again.”

  “That’s right,” Scotty said. “Troy has a girl. A real cutie.”

  “That’s nice,” Frank said. “What’s her name?”

  Troy couldn’t betray Marlee that way. “No one you know,” he said, and walked away.

  He was almost back at the truck when a familiar figure intercepted him. “Hello, Troy,” Bernie said.

  “Hey, Bernie.” Troy took out his keys and jingled them nervously in his hand.

  The parole officer glanced over Troy’s shoulder. “You didn’t take my advice about staying away from Frank Britton,” he said.