The Father for Her Son Page 5

  “Love is complicated,” her mother had answered. “One day you’ll understand.”

  But Marlee had never understood. She’d sworn she wouldn’t end up like her mother. She wouldn’t fall in love with a man who put his own impulses and crazy dreams ahead of his family. She wouldn’t marry a man who broke the law.

  Most of all, she would protect her child from pain and disappointment, the way her mother had never protected her.

  THE MORE TIME he spent with Marlee and Greg, the more Troy wanted to be with them. Sharing a meal with them, even something as simple as a casual pizza dinner, had given him a glimpse of what it would be like if they were a real family. But before that could ever happen he had to fight Marlee’s resistance and get to know his son.

  Wednesday, as he cleaned parts, tuned engines or swept the garage bays, he thought about Marlee. She was still beautiful, but he’d noticed differences in her, changes it hurt to see, because he knew he was largely responsible. She was more cautious now, less trusting than the girl he’d known. Though she’d always been independent, now she wore her autonomy like armor.

  While he’d spent his time in prison planning how he’d make up for the way he’d hurt her, she’d built a good life for herself and their son.

  She’d convinced herself she didn’t need him anymore, but she was wrong. Greg needed a father and Marlee deserved a man who loved her. Troy knew no one could fill those roles better than him.

  Marlee had done her best to make a home out of the rental house, hanging up frilly curtains and setting out vases of silk flowers. But she deserved real flowers and windows without cracks.

  When they’d decided to get married, Troy had promised her a different kind of life than the one she’d had growing up. He hadn’t known what that life would look like, but he’d known it would be good. They were in love and everything would work out.

  That vision of a perfect life had been naive, but he had a more definite plan now. The first step was to build a real relationship with his son. Step two: save the down payment for a nicer house. He’d already opened an account. Step three: start a college fund. Marlee would never have to worry about anything again.

  He could make it all happen, if Marlee would only give him the chance.

  “Is that starter ready for Mr. Childers’s bike?” Troy’s boss, Wiley Spencer, approached Troy’s work bench. A burly man with a head of thick, silver hair and a U.S. Marine Corps tattoo, Wiley kept a thick Bible on one corner of his desk, and pictures of his many grandchildren on the other. There was a rumor that he’d done time for manslaughter a couple of decades earlier, but no one knew for sure.

  “Got it right here,” Troy said, and lifted the cleaned and rebuilt part from the back of the bench.

  Wiley turned the starter over in his hand and nodded. “Looks great.” His eyes met Troy’s with the kind of gaze that saw right into a man and dared him to lie. “Everything going okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s going well.” Work was good, anyway. He was skilled at his job, and enjoyed learning the intricacies of the newer engines and restoring the older ones.

  “What do you do after work?” Wiley asked.

  Troy hadn’t expected that question. What did Wiley care what he did after work? “Not much,” he said. “Go home. Maybe see a friend.” He didn’t know if he could call Marlee a friend yet, but he was working toward it.

  Wiley frowned. “Nobody you met inside, I hope.”

  “No. This is someone I knew before.”

  “Guys hang out with the same crowd that got them into trouble before, they end up in trouble again,” Wiley said. “You’ve got a new life now—you have to break all ties with the old one.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with that old life.” He had no intention of losing his son a second time. “I’m staying out of trouble.”

  “Good. When do you see your parole officer?”

  “This afternoon. When I’m done here.” Every Wednesday afternoon he met with Bernie Martinez. The brief check-in was supposed to help him in his transition to freedom, and to make sure he was keeping his nose clean.

  “Don’t let me hear of you missing an appointment,” Wiley said. “I like to give guys a chance, but you only get one.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” Troy said. He’d been young and stupid when he’d let himself get involved in his cousin’s robbery scheme. He hadn’t asked enough questions, and had ignored all signs of trouble. He’d told himself he was trying to provide for Marlee, but he could admit now that he’d wanted to impress her, to build himself up in her eyes by presenting her with money for the baby. To show her he could take care of them. Instead, he’d destroyed everything. Now she thought he was just like her father.

  Troy had known men like Frank Britton inside—career criminals who grew so used to prison that they couldn’t function outside. Some of those guys were real hard cases, dangerous even, but a lot of them were just sad old men waiting to die.

  Troy couldn’t imagine ending up like them. He and Frank were nothing alike, no matter what Marlee thought. For most of the people he’d met since his release, one ex-con was the same as any other. It didn’t matter to them that he’d been a stupid kid who had exactly one offense on his record, or that he’d been a model prisoner. Most people weren’t inclined to give him a second chance, but he hoped he could convince Marlee he deserved one.

  After work, he washed as much of the grease from his hands as he could and rode his motorcycle to the low-slung concrete-and-glass building where Bernie had his office.

  “Job going okay, finances okay?” Bernie asked after a perfunctory greeting. A stocky man with a neat mustache and thinning hair, Bernie had the weary air of a career bureaucrat.

  “Yeah, I’m doing all right,” Troy said. “I told you, I’m never going back inside.”

  “That’s good. That kind of determination is important. It’s good, too, to realize why you ended up in prison in the first place.”

  “I ended up in prison because I was stupid enough to trust my cousin. I should have known he was up to something.”

  “Yes.” Bernie nodded thoughtfully. “But you also acted impulsively, without thinking about the consequences. That’s a proven recipe for trouble.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Troy could have argued that he had been thinking the night he decided to go with his cousin—not about what Raymond might be up to, but about what the extra money would mean to Marlee and the baby.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Bernie asked.

  “Maybe.” Troy shifted in his chair. “Do you know an older con from around here, Frank Britton?” The pain in Marlee’s voice when she spoke of her father had stayed with him. Maybe Marlee would appreciate it if he could reassure her Frank was still behind bars, or far away, where he would never be able to hurt her again.

  “I do. Why?”

  “His daughter wants to know how he’s doing,” Troy lied.

  Bernie narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know Frank had a daughter.”

  “They’ve lost touch.”

  Bernie continued to look doubtful. “You tell her Frank’s okay. He’s stayed out of trouble for four or five years now. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I’d have heard if anything happened to him.”

  “Is he still here? In Austin?” If Frank hadn’t tried to get in touch with Marlee after all this time, maybe that was a good sign.

  “Last I heard, he was.” Bernie shook his head. “Don’t bother looking him up. You’re making a fresh start, getting your life back in order. Why would you want to go messing around with a career con like Frank?”

  “I don’t want to see him.” He only wanted to know Frank wouldn’t be bothering Marlee. Troy could protect her from that, even if she hadn’t asked him to.

  Bernie made a mark on a piece of paper and closed the file folder on the desk in front of him. “See you next week.”

  “Yeah.” Troy left the building, pausing on the steps to take a deep breath
of the warm spring air. The aroma of fresh-cut grass washed over him. Marlee’s grass would need cutting soon. He’d take care of it for her. She’d object, but he’d ignore her. Now that he was free, he intended to do all the things he hadn’t been able to before. He would show Marlee he’d earned her forgiveness and trust.

  MARLEE FELT a flutter of apprehension as she watched from the front window as Troy backed a pickup truck into her driveway Saturday morning. When he’d called to say he was bringing a surprise, she hadn’t expected the two large cartons that filled the bed of the truck. Even from here she could read the lettering that proclaimed Heavy-duty Washer and Electric Dryer.

  He cut the engine and climbed out of the cab, his long legs quickly covering the distance to the rear of the truck. Marlee met him as he was lowering the tailgate, Greg running ahead. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “I’m bringing you your surprise.” He grinned. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should drive right back to the store and see if they’ll give you a refund.”

  Troy climbed into the bed of the pickup and started unloading a dolly. “Nope. I’m installing these right now.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “But, Mom! We won’t have to go to the Laundromat.” Greg hung over the side of the truck and watched Troy maneuver the dolly under the carton for the washer.

  Troy smiled at the boy. “When I’m ready to hook these up, I’ll let you help.”

  “All right!”

  “You’re not going to be hooking up anything,” Marlee said. “I can’t accept a gift like this.” Not from you, she added silently.

  He leaned on the dolly and sighed in exasperation. “Why not?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want you to think you can buy your way into my good graces.”

  He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “You think I’m trying to seduce you with appliances? Believe me, I could do better than that.” The heat in his gaze confirmed he had the power to seduce her with more than gifts and gestures. She remembered how close she had come to giving in to her desire for him the other night up on the bluff. She’d spent seven years trying to forget the way his touch, his kiss, the very brush of his skin against her own could make her feel, and within hours of seeing him again, it had all come rushing back.

  She hugged her arms tighter across her chest and strengthened her resolve. “I don’t want to owe you anything,” she said.

  Troy set the dolly upright and planted both hands on the washer box, leaning toward her and speaking quietly. “You’ve got it wrong, Marlee. I’m the one who owes you. I should’ve been supporting you all these years and I haven’t been. This is just payback.”

  She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Greg and I are fine without you. I don’t need—”

  “Then don’t think of this as a gift to you—think of it as something for Greg. He hates going to the Laundromat, right?” He raised his voice on the last sentence so the boy could hear.

  “Right!” Greg said.

  Troy grabbed the handles of the dolly and tilted it back once more, biceps bunching with the effort. “Now, come on. Let me in. I have to return the truck tonight.”

  His voice was calm, but his expression dared her to defy him. Reluctantly, she stepped out of the way. She couldn’t deny she’d longed for a washer and dryer of her own. As Greg’s father, she guessed Troy should contribute to his support. But she was determined not to rely on Troy for anything. Hadn’t he proved years ago that he was undependable?

  She retreated to the bathroom while he and Greg installed the new appliances. She spent the next hour scouring tile and polishing mirrors, humming to herself to drown out the low rumble of Troy’s voice, followed by Greg’s higher-pitched one. The sound was foreign to this house, her sanctuary no man had ever invaded. Yet it didn’t seem out of place, more like bass notes adding the underpinning to a melody.

  Part of her enjoyed having Troy here. She liked having someone take care of things for her. Admitting it made her feel weak, and she despised the weakness. She’d worked so hard to prove she didn’t need a man. Hadn’t she done just fine as a girl, without her father around? When she’d met Troy she’d been strong and independent, not afraid of anything, out for a little fun.

  Then she’d made the mistake of falling in love, of allowing herself to depend on someone else. Look how that had turned out.

  Sure, being alone was hard sometimes. But it was better than letting down her guard and giving another person the power to hurt her again.

  After a while, she noticed she could no longer hear Troy or Greg. She went to the kitchen to check on them. It was empty, though a toolbox sat open on the table. A draft chilled her and she saw the window over the sink was open. When she looked out, Troy was bent over the picnic table, Greg at his side.

  “What are you two doing out there?” she called.

  Troy raised his head, then nodded to the piece of glass he’d been cutting. “I’m fixing that broken windowpane. Greg’s helping.”

  Marlee frowned, struggling with whether to thank him or protest. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she said. “The landlord will take care of it.”

  “Then why hasn’t he?”

  Because Marlee would rather maintain her privacy than have her landlord poking around in her life. A cracked windowpane was a small inconvenience compared to the peace of being left alone.

  Her landlord was a recent arrival in Austin, and knew nothing of her family history. Many of her neighbors were newcomers, too. No one paid much attention to her, and that was how she liked it. “It was fine the way it was,” she said.

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  Troy turned back to his work, and began to explain to Greg how the rotary glass cutter operated. Marlee watched her son, who often had trouble sitting still long enough to finish his supper, stand motionless beside Troy, hanging on his every word. No one else had ever made such an impression on him. Was some instinct drawing him to his father?

  Not wanting to think about such things, she retreated to her bedroom with a book. A little while later, Greg found her. “Can Troy stay for supper?” he asked.

  She laid aside her book and looked at her son. He was growing up so fast. Already he was losing the babyish softness in his face, and he’d grown at least an inch in the past month. Every change seemed to make him resemble Troy more, and her less. “Maybe Troy doesn’t want to stay for supper,” she said.

  “I already asked him. I think he wants to stay, but he said I had to check with you.”

  Troy had been with them the whole day already, rubbing her nerves raw, intruding on her neatly ordered life. “I don’t know, honey—”

  “Please, Mom.”

  How could she say no to that heartfelt plea? “All right.” She sighed. “I’ll thaw more pork chops.”

  Greg ran off to deliver the good news. A few minutes later, Troy stood just outside her room. “Greg invited me to supper,” he said. “Are you sure it’s all right?”

  His shoulders filled the narrow doorway, his head coming to within only a few inches of the top. Marlee sat up, self-conscious of reclining on her bed in front of this man who reminded her too well of what else could be done in a bed. “Of course it’s all right,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded, despite the fiery emotions raging within her.

  “I have to return the truck, but I can be back in about an hour.”

  She nodded. “Sure. Dinner should be ready by then.”

  He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her. She sat absolutely still on the bed, listening to the throb of her pulse. He stared at her for what seemed like a long time, his dark eyes smoldering in a face that was otherwise stony. Only those burning eyes and the white knuckles of his hand gripping the door frame betrayed the depth of his emotions. Then, in a sudden, explosive movement he shoved himself away and left.

  Marlee collapsed against th
e pillows, weak with longing, angry at herself for feeling this way. She’d thought cutting contact with him all those years ago would destroy any hold he had over her. Apparently, the physical connection they’d once shared was stronger than she’d imagined. The more she was around Troy, the more those old feelings tried to assert themselves.

  But her mind was surely more powerful than her body. And she knew that temporary sexual satisfaction wouldn’t make up for the independent future she’d have to surrender to be with Troy. Her whole world revolved around him when she was nineteen. Watching him being sent to prison had devastated her. She’d vowed never to be that emotionally dependent on anyone again. She was strong and self-sufficient, but she sensed that Troy had the power to make her break that promise.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TROY STOPPED at a convenience store on his way back to Marlee’s. It didn’t seem right to show up for dinner without something to contribute, so he chose a half-gallon of ice cream from the freezer. At the counter, he picked up the newspaper. He’d check the movie listings and if anything good was playing, maybe he could talk Marlee and Greg into coming with him to a show.

  He wanted an excuse to prolong their time together. All afternoon, even as he reveled in the time spent with his son, he’d been aware of Marlee’s presence. Her perfume lingered in rooms even after she’d left. The sound of her singing drifted to him as he worked. When he’d walked into her bedroom and seen her lying against the pillows, desire tore at him. He’d summoned every ounce of self-control to keep from acting on it.

  Outside the store, he stowed the ice cream in his saddlebags and flipped through the paper. But before he got to the theater listings, an article caught his attention. Manager Saves Woman From Fire, the headline read. The story was accompanied by a picture of a silver-haired man next to the remains of a burned building. Something about the man was familiar. Troy’s gaze flickered to the caption below the picture. Frank Britton, manager at the Lakeside Apartments, rescued Alma Edwards from her burning home Thursday night.