The Father for Her Son Page 16

  She’d been so naive. Her father had promised to go straight before, too. He’d get a job and stay clean for a while, but then he’d start hanging out with the old crowd. Or maybe he’d see something he wanted but couldn’t afford, and the next thing she knew, he’d be calling from jail, asking Mama to bring the money to bail him out.

  Tears streamed down her face and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Damn Troy! He’d tricked her into loving him, when all along he was no better than her father. Oh, she hated him!

  She choked back a sob and stopped pacing abruptly. Oh, God! He had Greg. Surely Troy wouldn’t hurt his own son. But then, she’d been wrong about everything else so far. Why should she trust him with the one thing more precious to her than life?

  The clock on the microwave showed nine-thirty. They should have been home by now. Don’t panic. She jerked open the drawer by the telephone and pulled out the phone book. She found the listing for the Exposition and Heritage Center where the Ice Bats played and punched in the number.

  “Thank you for calling the Bat Cave, home of the Ice Bats Hockey Team. The office is open ten to four daily and during Ice Bats games. For information on the Ice Bats schedule, press one. To purchase tickets, press two. For Bat Gear, press three. For directions to the Bat Cave, press four. For a directory, press five…”

  She hung up the phone and sagged against the wall. The game was over. They should have been home by now.

  “Where are they, dammit?” She slapped her palm down on the counter, rattling the dishes in the drainer. The low hum of the refrigerator was her only answer.

  She couldn’t just sit here waiting. She glanced at the phone book lying open on the counter, then grabbed it and flipped to the listings for taxis. If Troy wouldn’t bring Greg back to her, she’d go to him.

  She was waiting on the porch when the taxi pulled up. “Take me to 5303 West Bend Ridge,” she told the driver as she got in.

  Troy’s apartment was in a nondescript complex of stuccoed buildings. Older-model cars filled the spaces in the parking lot, while children’s toys and rusted barbecues crowded the balconies of each unit.

  She had the taxi driver cruise slowly around the complex until she found 64D. She stared up at the darkened front windows of the second-floor apartment. “Wait here,” she told the driver as she climbed out of the backseat.

  Her heart thudded as she mounted the steps. She hesitated, staring at the empty balcony, then jabbed at the bell. She wasn’t surprised when no one answered. Cupping her hands around her face, she peered in the window through a gap in the drapes.

  The living room was dark, but a light from the adjoining kitchen was bright enough that Marlee could see that the room was empty.

  Completely empty. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the room, no pictures on the walls. The little she could see of the kitchen was the same—no table and chairs, no toaster on the counter or dishes in the sink. The apartment was as bare as if it had never been occupied.

  Or as if the tenant had packed up and moved away.

  Fear clawed at Marlee’s throat, choking off her breath, and she ran down the steps. “Take me home,” she ordered the cabbie. From there she could call the police. They’d have to listen when she told them a recently released prisoner had cleaned out his apartment and left—taking her son with him.

  She bit her lip, fighting tears. She had to be strong, to think of Greg’s safety. Later, she’d deal with her own hurt at being betrayed once again by the man she loved.

  She sat forward in the seat as they neared her house. The taxi crested the rise and she gasped. Light spilled from the front window of her home and her car was parked in the driveway. She gripped her seat, fingers cramping as they dug into the upholstery.

  When the taxi slowed at the curb, she fumbled for her wallet and shoved several bills at the cabbie, then raced up the walk. Her hands shook so badly she could hardly fit the key in the lock. But at last the lock turned and she burst into the living room.

  TROY WAS SURPRISED to find the house dark when he and Greg returned from the hockey game. Maybe Marlee had gone out with Trish or another girlfriend; she probably hadn’t enjoyed too many free evenings since Greg was born.

  “Can we watch the report on the game on the news?” Greg asked. “I want to see that awesome goal again.”

  “Sure.” It was probably way past the kid’s bedtime, but he was reluctant to end their evening together. Marlee couldn’t know what a gift she’d given him, allowing him these few hours alone with his son. He’d dreamed about this for years, in those long nights when he’d lain in his prison bunk, unable to sleep.

  Greg leaned forward, intent on the television. Troy smiled. He was a good-looking kid, with Troy’s dark, curly hair and Marlee’s nose and chin. He was smart, too, reciting the rules of the game and even reading the players’ bios out loud from the program. Troy had basked in the approving smiles of those seated near them in the stadium. One woman had even remarked on the resemblance between them. This is my son, he’d wanted to tell them all.

  One day soon, he would tell them. He and Marlee and Greg would be a family again, the way they were meant to be.

  He heard the rattle of a key in the lock and stood to welcome Marlee home. “Hey, I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I was starting to get worried…” The words died on his lips. Marlee stared at him, her eyes full of suspicion and fear. Troy felt as if someone had slammed a fist into his gut.

  “The Ice Bats won, Mama!” Greg said, bouncing off the sofa. “And Troy bought me a pennant and we had hot dogs and—”

  Marlee’s expression softened as she turned to their son. “You can tell me all about it in the morning,” she said. “Right now it’s time for bed.”

  “Aw, Mom—”

  “Tomorrow’s a school day. Now, off you go.”

  “Okay. I want to say good-night to Troy.”

  Troy’s heart twisted. He crouched down and pulled Greg close. He wanted to hang on to the boy and never let him go. No matter how angry Marlee was, he couldn’t let her take Greg away from him. “Good night,” Greg said, returning the hug. “Thanks for taking me to the game.”

  “Thank you for coming with me.” Troy choked out the words. We’ll go again soon, he wanted to say, but he hated to make promises he might not be able to keep. Marlee was clearly not in the mood to grant him any favors right now.

  He straightened and watched Greg trot down the hall, his Ice Bats pennant waving over his shoulder.

  “Where have you been?” Marlee’s voice was fierce but low enough that Greg wouldn’t hear.

  Troy turned to her cautiously. His years in prison had taught him to weigh the answer to any challenge carefully. He’d learned to study his opponent, to hoard information and never give anything away. “We went to the hockey game.”

  “The game ended an hour ago.”

  He shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Greg wanted ice cream, so we stopped. The ice cream parlor had a video game, so we played a few rounds.”

  She dropped her purse onto the sofa, and clenched her fists at her sides. “Did you ever consider that I might be worried sick?”

  The implication that he was a threat to Greg angered him. “All right, I should have called. But this isn’t about my being a little late,” he said. “What else is going on?”

  She glanced toward the bedrooms. Then, apparently satisfied that Greg wasn’t listening, she said, “The police stopped by this evening, asking about you.”

  Troy felt as if someone had shot his legs out from under him. He stood, waiting for the pain, waiting to fall. But he was too numb. “What did they want?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “They wouldn’t tell me exactly—just that they were investigating something. They asked about Scotty. And about my father.” Her eyes sparked with anger. “They said the two of you were friends.”

  “Your father and I are not friends.”

  “But you’ve spoken to him. The police said th
ey’d seen you with him.”

  “He came by the shop once, asking for Scotty. And Scotty and I saw him at the courthouse the day he got his award. Those were the only times I’ve seen him.”

  “So why are the police looking for you?”

  “I don’t know, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Marlee looked away, her expression hard, refusing to yield to his pleading.

  “I’m not your father,” he said. “I’m nothing like him.” He reached for her arm and tried to pull her close.

  She jerked out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” She moved around to the other side of the sofa. “And don’t lie to me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before—you are like my father. Still hanging out with your pals from prison. And just like Daddy, you always have plenty of cash to wave around, money for gifts and toys—or did you steal those, too? Were you planning to take Greg, just like you’ve taken anything else you’ve wanted?”

  “Take Greg?” He glared at her. “Where did you get a crazy idea like that?”

  She swallowed hard, as if choking back tears. “I went by your apartment tonight when you didn’t come back. There wasn’t any furniture. It looked like you’d already packed up to leave.”

  Troy shook his head, frustration building. She was twisting the truth around to fit her own expectations. “I don’t need furniture,” he said. “I gave most of what I had to Scotty, to help him get settled. I plan to buy more, but I’ve been saving my money to take care of you and Greg. I told you before—I owe you.”

  “You owe me!” Her voice rose, verging on hysterical. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Greg and I don’t need you. We don’t want you.”

  TWO steps and he was around the couch, gripping her by the shoulders. “Now you’re the one who’s lying.” He turned her toward him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t need me. Tell me you don’t love me.”

  Marlee’s face contorted, the tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter if I love you! I loved my father and he hurt me worse because of it.” She sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “I won’t put myself or Greg through that kind of misery again. Just go away!”

  Troy dropped her hand and took a step back. He felt hollowed out inside, empty and aching. She’d admitted she still loved him, but love wasn’t enough. Nothing he could do or say could make up for the hurt that still scarred her.

  He curled his hands into fists, angry at himself, and angry at Marlee’s father, who’d ruined his daughter’s chances for happiness before she’d even gotten started. “All right. I’m going. But you think about one thing while I’m gone. Greg is still my son. Nothing you do or say can change that. Do you really believe that I’d ever deliberately harm him—or you? Or are you just punishing me because you can’t punish your father?” He grabbed his jacket and started for the door. “Let it go, Marlee. Just let it go. You aren’t hurting your father, holding on to a grudge like this—you’re only hurting us, and our family. God knows, I made a big mistake. But I’ve served my time. I’ve paid my debt. I won’t let you, or anybody else, keep punishing me forever.”

  He slammed the door behind him and strode to his bike. He’d have to ride a long time tonight before he’d outrun the memories and the pain.

  MARLEE COLLAPSED onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. For the rest of her life, she’d never forget the look on Troy’s face when she’d sent him away. Even beneath the anger, his eyes told her he still loved her. Or was she imagining his love for her, wanting to believe he cared because she couldn’t let go of her own feelings for him?

  She thought of the Troy she had first fallen in love with, so many years ago. He’d been twenty-two, older than she was, so she’d thought he was tough and mature. But now she could see that the toughness and maturity had been a thin disguise for a touching vulnerability. She shuddered as she thought of him thrown into jail with a bunch of hardened criminals.

  She raised her head and forced all thoughts of sympathy from her mind. No matter how much he protested, Marlee knew prison taught a man to think only of himself. Her father had preached a philosophy of taking as much as he could get, whenever he could get it. How could Troy have survived seven years in prison without adopting that same winner-takes-all attitude?

  She couldn’t afford to give in to that part of herself that missed him and still longed for him. She had to be strong for Greg’s sake. She wouldn’t be like her mother, who had taken her father back again and again, having her heart broken every time.

  Even as she lay dying of cancer, Leigh Britton had spoken of her love for the man who had ruined her life. Marlee had listened to her mother’s morphine-induced ramblings in horror. She swore then and there that she’d never put herself through that kind of torture for anyone. And she certainly wouldn’t expose Greg to the pain and disappointment she’d experienced as a child.

  She remembered once, when she was twelve, she’d had a part in a school program, a solo with the girls’ choir. Her mother had made her a new dress and bought Marlee her first pair of panty hose. She’d felt very grown-up. Her handsome father, home for one of his longest intervals yet, had fussed over her. “You’re my beautiful princess,” he’d said, giving her a dazzling smile. “When I see you up on that stage, I’ll burst with pride.”

  He never got to see her onstage. The day before the program, he was caught trying to sell stolen jewelry to an undercover cop. Marlee performed her solo with tears in her eyes. Afterward, she shut herself in her bedroom and refused to listen to her mother’s pleas through the locked door.

  She’d grown up that night, from a trusting little girl to a wiser young woman. She’d realized then that her father would never be any different than he was. Despite her mother’s love and Marlee’s adoration, despite even his own best intentions, he would always betray them.

  She began to weep again. Learning the truth about Troy had opened up all the old wounds. She cried for the child she’d been and for the woman she was now. She couldn’t change the past, but God help her, she wouldn’t spend her life repeating the same mistakes.

  “Mama? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Greg’s voice startled her. She raised her head and saw him standing in the door to the living room, his face pinched with concern. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “I…I’m just a little sad right now, honey. I promise I’ll be all right. Go back to bed.”

  He shuffled over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. The gesture of comfort was almost her undoing, but she swallowed hard and tried to assume a calm expression. “What are you sad about?” Greg asked.

  She opened her arms and he climbed into her lap. She’d hoped to put this moment off as long as possible, to find the right words to break the news to him. But she might as well get it over with now. “Troy won’t be coming to see us for a while,” she said.

  He was still Greg’s father, but she’d limit their contact to some legally supervised visitations. And if he was involved in something illegal, she’d find a way to keep him from Greg permanently. She wouldn’t allow his choices to hurt their son any more than they already had.

  He frowned. “But…why? I thought he liked us.”

  Marlee brushed the hair back from her son’s forehead and sighed. “He did like us. I mean, I’m sure he does like us. But it just wouldn’t be a good thing for us to spend time together anymore.”

  She waited for tears, but Greg merely looked at her in confusion. “How could it not be good? He’s my dad, isn’t he?”

  All her breath left her at once. “Did he tell you that?” she managed to gasp.

  Greg blushed, and he hung his head as though embarrassed. “A lady at the hockey game said I looked just like him. And I knew he really liked me, and I really liked him and…well, I just sorta figured it out.” He raised his head again and stared at her. “It’s true, isn’t it? Troy’s my dad?”

  Marlee nodded, feeling weak. She hadn’t counted on her son being so smart
. “Yes, it’s true.”

  He shoved himself away from her, startling her with the force of the movement. When he’d squirmed out of her lap, he stood facing her, face twisted with anger. “Why’d you send him away? He just got here and now you made him leave!”

  Marlee bit her lip, determined not to lie to her son, but unwilling to let him know the truth—that his father was a criminal. She reached for him, needing to pull him close. “It’s better that he’s gone,” she said. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  Greg jerked away from her. “I didn’t want him to leave! I hate you!” His bare feet slapped against the floor as he fled down the hall, and the windows rattled as he slammed his bedroom door behind him.

  A wave of sickness washed over Marlee. Greg didn’t mean those words. He didn’t really hate her—he was just hurt and upset. But they were still hard for a mother to hear.

  She hugged a pillow to her stomach. Would she have sent Troy away if she’d realized Greg knew Troy was his father? Troy’s parting words rang in her ears. Greg would always be his son. She could never change that.

  Did she believe Troy would ever deliberately hurt her or Greg? No, she didn’t. But her own father had never deliberately hurt her, either, and the pain had cut just as deep.

  Troy had accused her of lashing out at him because she couldn’t get back at her dad. She hugged the pillow tighter, uncomfortable with the thought. Here she was, twenty-six years old and she still felt like that twelve-year-old who’d locked herself in her room and refused to speak to anyone. She was stuck in a time warp, with no way out.

  She closed her eyes and saw Troy’s face, love and concern softening his anger. Let it go, Marlee. Could she let go of the past? Could she learn to forgive what she could never forget?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TROY’S FIRST INSTINCT upon leaving Marlee’s house was to find Scotty and demand to know what was going on. But if Scotty was in trouble, being seen with him probably wasn’t a smart move. So he decided to wait and confront him at work.