The Father for Her Son Read online

  “Hey, Denton! Man, how’s it goin’?”

  Beside her, Troy stiffened. Marlee followed his gaze to the bleary-eyed panhandler shuffling toward them. The young man wore ragged jeans and a dirty flannel shirt, and carried a knapsack and blanket roll on his back. His hair was long and matted and he needed a shave. “Good to see a friendly face, man.” The derelict clapped Troy on the shoulder. Troy froze, as though turned to stone.

  The man looked around Troy to Marlee. “Hello, ma’am.” He nodded and held out a filthy hand. “Name’s Richard Scott, though most folks call me Scotty.”

  Marlee stared at the handmade tattoo that snaked across the back of the man’s hand. The crude combination of symbols and letters made her shiver. Her father had had similar markings. As a little girl, she’d been fascinated by “Daddy’s pictures.” Later, she’d learned about jailhouse tattoos, and had been ashamed that her father wore these symbols that marked him as a criminal.

  Scotty must have sensed her hesitation. He jerked his hand away and wiped it on his jeans. “Don’t know what I’s thinkin’—gonna get you all dirty.” He turned to Troy, who was staring at him, clench-jawed. “Say, you lookin’ good, man. Outside world ain’t been so kind to old Scotty.”

  “Listen, we’d better go.” Troy jerked his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Good luck, man.” He pressed the bill into Scotty’s hand, then grabbed Marlee’s arm and hurried her along the path.

  “Friend of yours?” she asked. She looked back over her shoulder. Scotty hadn’t moved, staring at the twenty in his hand.

  “Just…nobody. Just nobody.” He spat out the words.

  “You knew him in prison,” she said.

  “We’d better head for the hotel. Your boss won’t be so impressed with me if I bring you back late.”

  “Not until you tell me the truth. Did you know that guy in prison?”

  “Yes, I knew him in prison. It’s not something I like being reminded of, okay?”

  He started walking again, and she hurried to keep up. The contrast between the tattooed panhandler and the man beside her was startling. They had come from the same place, released with the standard provisions of a hundred dollars and a change of clothes—or at least, that had been the program years ago when her father was part of her life. Scotty had apparently done what many cons did—blown through the money and ended up with nothing to show for it. Likely as not, he’d be locked up again in a few weeks or months, and the cycle would continue.

  Troy, on the other hand, had a job, transportation and a place to live. He was rebuilding his life, making amends to the people he’d hurt, proving that he was the exception to the rule.

  She’d been so blinded by her prejudice against her father and his associates that she’d failed to see that until now. “Maybe it’s good to be reminded sometimes,” she said.

  He shot her a fierce look. “Why? So I’ll know my place?”

  “No. So you’ll know how far you’ve come.” She put a hand on his arm. “You’re not like Scotty. And…and you’re not like my dad, either. I can see that now.”

  Some of the anger left his eyes, and he covered her hand with his own. They walked in silence back to the hotel, but she knew they’d reached a kind of truce this afternoon. She was closer to understanding the man Troy had become, and maybe he was more accepting of the choices she’d made. They hadn’t resolved all their differences, but they’d made a start. If he wanted more from her than friendship, he’d be disappointed. She was confident now that they would find a middle ground where they could be the parents Greg needed. But she’d lost herself too completely to him before, and paid too high a price when things went wrong. She wouldn’t take that kind of risk again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TROY LEFT MARLEE outside the hotel’s main entrance, but instead of getting on his motorcycle and returning to his own job, he crossed the street and returned to the park. The encounter with Scotty had shaken him. All he wanted was to forget the previous seven years had ever happened—to replace the grim memories of prison with a new, happier life. But reminders—like Bernie, and now Scotty—kept intruding.

  He would have to learn to live with Bernie’s presence, but he could definitely do something about Scotty.

  He passed the hot dog vender and thought of the lunch Marlee hadn’t touched. She’d probably grab something at her office once she was calmer. He hadn’t accomplished what he’d hoped for with their lunch, but she was warming up to him. He’d settle for that for now.

  One reason he liked his job at the garage was because it involved taking things that were broken and making them work. Customers came in with a problem and he was able to solve it. The results were evident and tangible.

  He’d thought talking to Marlee today would be like that. He had a problem—keeping his identity from Greg—and he would solve it by confronting Marlee.

  But women obviously weren’t motorcycles. And he didn’t yet have the right tools to bring her around to his point of view.

  And Marlee wasn’t just a woman, but also a mother. She knew their son better than Troy did, and if she believed revealing the truth now would harm Greg, Troy had to accept that. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Greg, or to damage the bond that was growing between them.

  But even though Marlee was a wonderful mother, Greg needed a father, too. As he got older, there would be more and more situations where he’d need a man’s perspective. A mom could help, but only a dad could really know what went through a boy’s head when he walked into the locker room the first day of junior high. A dad would understand the way boys judged each other’s physical prowess and reputation.

  Troy wanted to be there for his son whenever Greg needed him.

  And what about Troy’s relationship with Marlee? He’d clearly caught her off guard by declaring that he wanted the three of them to be a family, but she seemed angry. He counted that as a minor victory.

  He crested a small hill and spotted Scotty shuffling along a path by the lake. He and Troy had been cellmates for a time, then on the same block for several years. Troy never thought of his fellow inmates as friends, but Scotty was as close to one as he ever came. He jogged down the hill. “Scotty, wait up.”

  Scotty turned. “Hey, Denton!” He pulled the twenty from his pocket. “Come for your change?”

  “No, man, it’s all yours.”

  “Thought maybe you was tryin’ to impress your girl.”

  Troy shrugged. He doubted Marlee had been impressed, but her attitude toward him had definitely softened after their encounter with Scotty. Her admission that he wasn’t like her father was a huge step forward. He owed Scotty thanks for his contribution to that transformation.

  “How’d you end up like this, Scotty?”

  “You know how it is, man. It’s hard on the outside—no money, no job. I’m not like you. I don’t have any kind of mechanical skills, or anything else.”

  “If you’d thought about that while you were inside, you could’ve learned something. You could’ve taken classes, or enrolled in job training. You could’ve had a plan.”

  Scotty laughed. “You sound like my parole officer. So how’s your plan working out for you?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “What was it? Maybe I can learn by example.”

  “My plan was to get a job, a bike and a place to live. And then I was going to put my family back together. That’s the part I’m still working on.”

  “You got family? Your mom and dad around here somewhere?”

  Troy shook his head. “My dad’s dead and my mom and I don’t talk that much. Everybody else is scattered.”

  “Sounds like my folks. They’re all up north somewhere. None of them have anything to do with me.”

  “You know what the hardest thing was about being locked up?”

  “Aside from the rotten food, sadistic guards and crazy inmates?”

  “The hardest thing was being so alone—away from anyone who cared about me, or
anyone I cared about.” When he met Marlee, he’d been drifting emotionally for a year, since his father’s death. He’d felt empty inside, unsure of what he should do with his life. Her love had anchored him and given him a purpose. When she’d gotten pregnant, that purpose had strengthened. He wanted to be there for her and for their baby the way his father had always been there for him.

  His love for her and Greg still anchored him now. Life wasn’t perfect, but he would work with what he had.

  Right now, Scotty needed help. He nodded to the crumpled bill in Scotty’s hand. “What do you plan to do with that money?”

  Scotty considered the bill. “Score some dope maybe. Or buy a couple cases of beer and stay drunk for a week.”

  “Is that what you really want to do?”

  He shrugged. “You got a better idea?”

  Troy looked him up and down. “How about a bath and a shave? Some clean clothes? Maybe a job?”

  Scotty laughed, a sharp, barking sound. “Where am I gonna get all that for a double sawbuck? Besides, who’s gonna hire a con like me?”

  “Ex-con.” Troy shoved one hand into his pocket. “I can help with the bath and clothes. And my boss is looking for somebody to clean up around the shop. He’ll give you a chance, if you’re willing to take it.”

  Scotty stared at the twenty. People flowed around them on the trail, like water around a rock in a creek bed. “Why do you even want to take a chance on me?” he asked.

  “It’s not much of a chance. My boss sometimes hires ex-cons and he needs help right now. I can introduce you, but whether or not you get the job is up to you.”

  “And if I do you’ve done your good deed for the day?”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular Boy Scout. Do you want to do this or not?”

  Scotty shoved the twenty into his pocket. “Why not? I got nothing better going on.”

  As declarations went, it wasn’t enthusiastic, but Troy hadn’t expected enthusiasm. A lot of the guys he’d met in prison were like that—so used to being disappointed by life they’d stopped caring. Without the memory of Marlee’s love—and the knowledge of how good life could be—he might have ended up the same way.

  SATURDAY MORNING, Marlee hurried to put the finishing touches on the cake she was bringing to the company picnic, while Greg raced from room to room. “I’m ready to go, Mom!” he shouted, then almost collided with Troy as he entered the kitchen from the back door.

  “I put the cooler in the car,” Troy said. “Can I do anything else?”

  “You could grab that stack of towels, and the bag with the bathing suits. Oh, and I need to get sunscreen. And a hat. Greg has to have a hat.”

  “I’ll get my hat, Mom,” Greg called as he raced past once more.

  “This icing isn’t going on as smooth as it’s supposed to,” Marlee said. “Troy, does the cake look all right? I knew I should have made it last night, but I wanted it to be as fresh as possible.”

  “The cake looks great. Delicious.” He stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Relax,” he said. “It’s a picnic. A fun day in the park. Things don’t have to be perfect.”

  “It’s a day with all my coworkers,” she said. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

  He leaned around her and swiped his index finger through the frosting left in the mixing bowl. “Mmm,” he said, sucking the chocolate off his finger. “Delicious.”

  It was a playful gesture—and a sexy one, too. Just when Marlee had convinced herself she could think of Troy only as a friend, he would do something like this and remind her that the connection between them hadn’t disappeared completely. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, Troy had once meant a great deal to her and she couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  “Is there bottled water in the cooler?” she asked, picking up the spatula again and adding more frosting to the cake. “And plenty of ice?”

  “Yes to both. And soda and juice, too. There’s a roll of paper towels in the backseat, and wet wipes, insect repellent and a first-aid kit in the glove box. You’ve got enough supplies for a week-long camping trip, so we should survive a day in the park.”

  “You never know what could happen. I like to be prepared.” Marlee admitted she was probably overdoing it, but the only way she knew to get past the anxiety she felt in new situations was to be as prepared as possible.

  “Are you nervous because I’m going with you today?” Troy asked.

  “I’m always nervous about this kind of thing,” she said.

  “A picnic?”

  “I told you, I don’t like mixing my personal and professional lives.” She stepped back to examine the cake. It looked a little better. It would have to do.

  “Why is that? You spend so much time at work, it seems like it would be hard to keep them from overlapping.”

  “It’s not, really. I don’t talk about my life much at the office. If people don’t know a lot about me, they can’t ask nosy questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “We really don’t have time to talk about this.” She settled the cover carefully over the cake in its carrier.

  “We have a few minutes. Greg’s still in his room, looking for his hat. And I’d like to know. What kind of questions do people ask?”

  “They want to know where I’m from. Where was I born? Where did I grow up? Where did I go to school? Do I have family in Austin?”

  “And you don’t want to talk about that.”

  “No! I never even told people in school about my father. Though they found out anyway.”

  The lines around his eyes deepened as he looked at her with compassion. “Was that hard for you?”

  She nodded. “I lost friends over it. People whose parents didn’t want their children associating with me or my family. I don’t want that happening to Greg, so I keep my past a secret.”

  “Are you worried what people will say about me today?”

  “Yes.” She’d hardly slept last night, imagining worst-case scenarios—everything from Scotty crashing the picnic to reminisce about old times behind bars, to her father appearing and regaling everyone with tales of his exploits. Of course, there was no chance of either of those things happening, but in the dark hours after midnight her imagination ran away with her. “People have asked me about you before,” she said. “Well, not you specifically, but they ask if I was married before. They want to know what happened. Am I in touch with Greg’s father? Does he pay child support? Has he remarried? Nothing is off limits for some people.”

  “What do you tell them?” Troy asked.

  “It depends on who it is. Sometimes I say I don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes I tell the truth—that I was never married and we haven’t had contact since before Greg was born.” That statement had earned her some shocked reactions and a few disapproving looks. If people probed further—if they wanted to know what happened, where the father was now, how she felt about him—she refused to elaborate. Eventually, people got tired of asking.

  “You don’t have to worry about me today,” Troy said. “I won’t say anything about the past or about us. I’m a friend of yours and I’m attending the picnic as your guest.”

  “They’ll think we’re dating.” Why else would a single woman invite a man to a company function?

  “Would that be so horrible?”

  Maybe not horrible—after all, Troy was good-looking and kind. A lot of women would be thrilled to date a man like him. But as wonderful as Troy could be, he was still an ex-con. Every time he applied for a loan or a new job, every time he renewed his driver’s license or leased an apartment, that record would be there, a big, black mark. She’d lived that kind of life once—she didn’t want any part of it again.

  “I found my hat!” Greg raced back into the kitchen, holding up a black Austin Ice Bats ball cap.

  Marlee’s heart contracted as she watched her son settle the hat on his head, looking first to her, then to Troy for approval. At one time, she couldn’t imagi
ne loving anyone more than she’d loved Troy. But when Greg was born, she’d been overwhelmed by a different kind of love. She would have done anything to ensure her boy grew up safe and happy.

  “You look great, sport,” Troy said.

  Marlee checked the clock and let out a groan. “We’re going to be late,” she said. “We need to finish loading the car.”

  “I’ll get the towels!” Greg grabbed the stack and raced for the door.

  Marlee picked up the cake and started after him, but Troy stopped her. “Can I say something?” he asked.

  “What?” He looked so serious, which made him seem stronger somehow.

  “I met some of your coworkers the other day,” he said “They seem to be nice people. They really like you. I don’t think they’re judging you as harshly as you think.”

  “So I’m silly to worry? Too cautious?”

  “No. I think you have solid reasons to feel the way you do. But the past doesn’t necessarily predict the future.”

  An odd thing to say, coming from a man who had confessed to wanting to recapture the dreams they’d had in the past. At the time, she’d been amazed that he would think they could ever pick up where they’d left off.

  Now, she wondered. Maybe what Troy really wanted was something better than what they could have had before. They’d both matured. They’d made mistakes, but they’d learned from them.

  Could she and Troy negotiate their new relationship? She still wasn’t sure what that relationship was—how she wanted it to be defined. But they weren’t enemies and he was, in fact, proving to be a good friend. He cared about what she thought and how she felt, even if he did have an annoying habit of assuming he knew best.

  She wanted to trust him, and she was willing to try.

  AT ZILKER PARK, Troy helped Marlee carry the supplies to the picnic area reserved for hotel employees. Several of her coworkers cast curious glances in his direction, but Marlee avoided looking at any of them. “Greg, put those napkins over there by the plates,” she directed. “Troy, the cooler should go at the end of the table. And do you think the cake will be okay here?”