The Father for Her Son Page 18

  She heard a buzzing like a swarm of insects and followed it around the side of the building and across the yard to a row of hedges that marked the border of the property. An older man in baggy green coveralls and a black ball cap was operating an electric hedge trimmer, an orange extension cord trailing behind him. Her father.

  He was smaller than she remembered, thin and stoop shouldered. Marlee watched him for a few minutes. Almost ten years had passed since she’d last seen him. Would they have anything to say to each other?

  She took a deep breath and started toward him. She was almost at his side before he saw her. He shut off the hedge trimmers and pushed back his hat, giving her a view of his brown eyes, which looked paler now, watery.

  She stopped directly in front of him. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked.

  Marlee swallowed hard, hurt that he didn’t recognize her. She would have known him anywhere, no matter how much time had passed. She cleared her throat. “It’s me, Dad. Marlee.”

  Frank’s gaze sharpened, pinning her. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then a softness crept into his expression. “It’s good to see you, princess.”

  Marlee was afraid she’d be overcome before she’d had a chance to speak her piece. The surge of emotion surprised her; she’d thought she was long past feeling anything for her father, much less this sadness and yes, tenderness that swept over her now. “I was wondering if there was somewhere we can talk,” she said.

  He nodded and motioned toward a trio of picnic tables in the shade of a cedar pavilion. “Is that all right?”

  She followed him to the pavilion. Beside it sat a rusted barbecue grill and a sand pit for horseshoes. “How are you doing?” she asked, sliding onto one of the picnic benches.

  “I’m all right.” Frank lowered himself to the bench across from her. “A friend got me the job here, and it comes with a little apartment. It’s not perfect, but the location’s really convenient.”

  Marlee stared out across the rows of shabby buildings. “I saw an article about the fire,” she said. “The one where you saved that woman.”

  “So that’s how you knew where I was.” He coughed. “I tried to look you and your ma up when I got out this last time, but you’d moved.”

  “The rent kept going up, so we moved a few times. After Mama died, I found a place of my own.”

  “Leigh’s gone then?” Frank sounded pained, and Marlee was surprised to see tears well in his eyes.

  “I thought you knew,” she said.

  He looked away and sniffed. “I guess in my heart I did. It felt like I’d really lost her this time.”

  Marlee tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat. What would it be like to love someone so much you felt that kind of connection, even miles and years apart?

  “When did it happen?” he asked.

  “Two years ago. She had cancer.”

  He nodded, and stared off across the lawn.

  Marlee didn’t want to feel sorry for him. She’d kept her bitterness alive for so many years but now, confronted with the sad reality of her father’s life, she couldn’t feel any anger toward him. “How long have you been out?”

  “Oh, almost five years now. Prison is no place for an old man.”

  She’d never thought of her father as old before. She raised her head and looked at him. Up close, his face had a weathered appearance, all lines and valleys. He must have been near sixty, but he looked older. What hair that showed beneath the cap was shot through with silver. “Do you miss your old friends?”

  He laughed. “Well, you know, the parole board frowns on socializing. But I still see Danny Bernardo. He married a woman with three daughters about, oh, nine years ago. They run a doughnut shop over on the Drag.”

  She blinked. “So Danny went straight?”

  He laughed again. “You sound surprised. It happens, you know. Not everybody is like your old man.”

  She nodded. She’d known for some time now that Troy wasn’t like her father. He’d learned years ago what it had apparently taken her father decades to absorb—that crime truly didn’t pay, and that it cost you more than you ever gained.

  “So why’d you come to see me?” her father asked.

  “The police paid me a visit a few days ago,” she said. “They were asking about you.”

  His expression hardened and she realized the toughness she’d known as a child wasn’t gone, merely suppressed under this new, milder exterior. “They had no right to bother you.”

  “What was it about?” she asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Again.

  “No.” His eyes met hers, the hardness still there. “This time, I really am innocent.”

  She wanted to believe him, but experience made her cautious. “Then what did happen? Why were they asking about you?”

  Frank studied the ground a moment, as if weighing what to tell her. “There’s this young con, name of Scotty, who started hanging around here a couple of months ago,” he said. “I didn’t invite him or anything, he just showed up. I knew him inside and I felt sorry for the kid, so I had him over a few times—you know, to watch the game or grill some burgers. But he wouldn’t shut up about the two of us doing a job together—finding someplace to rob. I finally ran him off, but not before he stole a master key. He used it to break into some of the apartments.”

  “And you knew nothing about this?”

  “No. I did not.”

  So the police had been right about Scotty. “Do you…do you know a man named Troy Denton?”

  Frank’s gaze sharpened. “What about him?”

  “Was he involved with Scotty in robbing the apartments?”

  Frank leaned toward her. “How do you know Troy Denton?”

  “First tell me if he’s part of this.”

  “No. The cops questioned him because he works with Scotty and because they saw him talking to me—but he had nothing to do with this.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Positive. They caught Scotty red-handed last night and he had some other young punk with him.”

  All the anger and hurt that had held Marlee upright for the past few days drained out of her in a rush, replaced by shame and sadness.

  “How do you know Troy?” her father asked again.

  She scored the top of the table with her thumbnail. “I’ve known him for a long time. We met when I was in high school. We were going to get married, but then he was sent to prison.”

  Frank let out a low groan. “I should’ve been there,” he said. “I would never have let you get involved with a con.”

  “Troy’s not like that,” she said. “He’s a good man. He made a mistake and paid for it.”

  “So you waited for him to get out. The way your mother used to wait for me.”

  “No. I didn’t wait. I didn’t want anything to do with him.”

  Frank looked away. “I guess I can’t blame you for that, after the way I was always letting you and your mother down.”

  She nodded. Even Leigh had finally accepted that her husband wouldn’t change, after Marlee spent years telling her so. “But I couldn’t ever really forget Troy. I…I was pregnant when he left. I have a son—Greg.”

  Frank blinked, mouth gone slack. “So I’m a grandpa.” Marlee could hear the wonder in his voice.

  “Yes. I guess you are.”

  He pulled off his cap and combed one hand through his still-thick hair. “So Troy got out and found you and the boy again, is that it?”

  She nodded. “He told me he wanted to be a father to his son—that he wanted another chance with me, too. He said he’d stay out of trouble from now on.”

  “Has he done right by you since then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But what will my life be like with him? Will the police always show up at my door with questions? Will my son be teased about his father the jailbird, the way I was? Even
if we move, the information will show up on every credit check and job application. If he’s ever stopped for speeding or a burned-out taillight, the local police will know.”

  Frank sighed. “Troy’s got a job, right? He’s working and giving you money? He wasn’t involved in the burglaries here and he cooperated with the police. What more do you want?”

  “I want to be sure.”

  “You can’t be. You’ve got to follow your heart.”

  The answer seemed glib. “Mama followed her heart,” she snapped. “Look where it got her.”

  Her father didn’t flinch. “You only remember the bad times. Your mother wasn’t like that. She focused on the good times. No matter what happened, she knew I loved her. And she loved me.”

  “Love isn’t always enough.” It hadn’t been enough for Leigh in the end. She’d tried to build a new life without Frank, but it had been too late.

  Frank reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. The tattoos were still there among the wrinkles, faded now, less menacing. His fingers were rough and callused, with dirt under the nails. A picture flashed through Marlee’s mind of these same fingers, nails neatly manicured, rolling a cigarette. She’d been fascinated by the process when she was a child.

  “I know I wasn’t much of a father, but I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice gruff. “I swore I’d make it up to you one day, but by then it was too late.”

  She shivered, struck by the similarity between his words and Troy’s. But Troy had come back to try again, hadn’t he?

  “You and Troy are still young,” he continued. “You can learn from this old man’s mistakes.”

  Marlee caught her breath, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. Maybe that was all she’d really come here for—to hear him say he was wrong and he knew it. And to discover that the ties of blood and memory still bound them together, stronger than ever.

  He laced his fingers with hers. “Give him another chance. And if he messes up this time, he’ll answer to me.”

  She didn’t try to stop the tears. They slid down her cheeks, splashing onto their intertwined fingers. She leaned across the table and kissed her father’s cheek and felt the dampness there also. “I’m glad I found you again, Daddy,” she whispered.

  He patted her shoulder. “Me, too, princess. Me, too.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TROY DROPPED the cardboard carton on the closet floor and began tossing in clothes. Not much to pack, really. A few dishes, some books, the mattress and the bed linens, a handful of clothes. Those years in prison had taught him just how little a man needed to live. Later on, he’d have things—furniture and art and all the other small luxuries that softened life’s rough edges. Right now he had more important things to spend his money on. And he still tried to put some aside for Greg and Marlee.

  It would probably always hurt to think of the two of them—all the family he cared to have. I should have fought harder to stay with her. I shouldn’t have let her send me away.

  He closed the top on the box and backed out of the closet. He only needed to gather up a couple more things and he’d be ready to go.

  He’d kept busy the past week, polishing his résumé and going for interviews. Wiley had written him a letter of recommendation and so had his parole officer, Bernie. After Scotty had been arrested for the thefts at Lakeside Apartments, Bernie was more ready to believe Troy’s assertions that he’d straightened out his life, and promised to do all he could to help him.

  Wiley had told him he could stay at the shop as long as he wanted, but Troy needed to move on.

  A hard knock on his door startled him. Not many people knew where he lived. He glanced through the peephole. Marlee looked back at him, her face filling his vision, like an image from his dreams. He unlatched the chain and opened the door, fighting the impulse to pull her to him. The next move had to be hers.

  She looked beyond him, into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

  He stepped aside and she walked in. He caught the scent of her perfume, sweet and subtle, and followed her with his eyes as she walked into the kitchen.

  He clenched his jaw and shut the door, then stalked past her. “We can talk while I finish up here.” He grabbed an empty carton and headed toward the bathroom.

  He opened the medicine cabinet and swept its contents into the box, then pulled a stack of towels from the shelf over the toilet. “You’re packing,” she said, sounding stunned.

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t look like you wanted anything to do with me, so I took a better offer.”

  “Troy, I…” She sighed. “I need to talk to you—about the other night.”

  He deposited a bar of soap, a razor and half a pack of toilet paper in his box. “So talk. I’m listening.”

  Marlee was silent, though Troy could hear her breathing, a soft and vulnerable sound. He gripped the carton, his fingers digging into the cardboard. “I went to see my father a few days ago,” she said finally.

  He blinked. “You did?”

  “Yes. We talked.”

  “What about?”

  “Lots of things. I told him about Mama dying, and about Greg. And about you.”

  “So what does he think of the man who got his daughter pregnant, then got thrown in jail? Is he on his way over here to whip my ass now?” He closed the medicine cabinet and stared into the mirror. Marlee peered over his shoulder at him, her eyes wide and dark, fearful. She had never looked so beautiful to him. Was that because he might never see her again?

  “He…he thinks I should give you another chance.” Her voice trembled.

  Troy set the box on the sink and turned to face her. Her gaze met his, full of fear and questions. “What do you think?” he asked.

  She hesitantly touched his wrist, her fingers like ice on his skin. “I love you, Troy. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  He opened his arms and she stepped into the heat of his kiss. They came together fiercely, as if gentle words and touches couldn’t convey the depth of their feelings. She clung to him, her face wet with tears. “Please don’t go,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “I’m sorry I ever let you down,” he said, stroking her hair. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

  She pulled away, just enough to look at him. “Will you stay, then?”

  “I wasn’t going far, anyway,” he said. “I got a new job.”

  “A new job?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to be a counselor at a halfway house for ex-cons. There’s a day center, and some apartments. We try to make the transition back to the free world easier. It’s just part-time at first, so I’ll still work at Wiley’s. Once I’ve been there a year and completed my parole, I’ll be eligible for a full-time position.”

  “I would have thought after your experience with Scotty, you’d be done helping ex-cons,” she said.

  “That’s what I told myself. I wanted to forget all about prison and anything to do with it. I even wanted to leave Wiley’s because I knew he’d hire other guys who’d been in prison, and I didn’t want to be around them.”

  “What happened to change your mind?”

  “It was seeing your dad, really. I liked him, in spite of what he did to you. I think maybe he’s changed. Maybe softened in the past few years. If a man with a record like his can do that, maybe there’s hope for others. I talked to Bernie and he helped me get on at the halfway house.”

  “I think you’re right.” Marlee sighed. “I still wish things had been different when I was growing up, but I can’t keep letting the past rule my life. At least my dad and I can have some kind of relationship now, and Greg can get to know his grandfather.”

  “I was trying to forget the past altogether, but that’s impossible. I was left with feeling sorry and guilty about something I couldn’t help. So I tried to think how I could take something bad—my time in prison—and turn it into something positive. I talked with my parole officer and he recommended this counseling program. It seemed l
ike a good fit.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to make a difference in people’s lives.”

  “You could make a difference in our lives, too—mine and Greg’s.”

  “Does this mean you’ll take me back?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry I ever sent you away. I was just scared.”

  He held her close. “I know. I can’t promise we’ll never be challenged or face questions again, but I promise I won’t let you down.”

  “And I won’t let you down,” she said. “I’m sorry for running out on you when you were convicted. I was scared, but I was wrong. I won’t do that again.”

  Troy loosened his hold and stepped back slightly. “We have to tell Greg that I’m his dad. Right away.”

  “He already knows. He figured it out all by himself.”

  “And he’s okay with that?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s crazy about you.”

  Relief washed over him. “I knew he was a smart kid.” He smoothed his hands down her shoulders. “As soon as we can, we’ll file the papers to make it official.”

  “I’ve made some other decisions recently,” she said.

  Was that a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth? “What kind of decisions?” he asked.

  “I signed up for that mentoring program at work. I’ll fly to Saint Louis at the end of the month for a week of training, then I’ll be paired up with a mentor here in Austin—probably at the North Crowne Towers.”

  “You’ll be meeting a lot of new people.”

  “Yes. And part of me is terrified, but the rest…” Marlee shrugged. “I think I was wrong to shut other people out of my life for so long. Keeping secrets didn’t protect me—it only gave those secrets more power over me.”

  “You’ll do great in the program,” he said. “And if you need me to look after Greg anytime, you know I will.”

  She glanced past him, at the boxes stacked around the apartment. “Are you going to live at the halfway house?”

  “For a while. Figured I’d save more money for Greg’s college fund.”

  “You could live with us. Greg would like that. I’d like it.”