An Unbroken Heart (36 page)

Sadie shoved her chair back from the table, the scraping cutting off Joanna's words.
“It's finished, Joanna. We forgive him in our heart. That's enough.”

“It's not enough.” Joanna shot up from her chair, her voice
pinning her sisters in
place. “You don't have to
geh
with me. I can do it on
mei
own. But I need to see
him.”

“Why, Joanna?” Abigail went to her. “What
gut
would it do?”

“He needs to know we forgive him. He needs to hear the words from me.”

The door opened a crack, and Aden peeked inside. “Is it all right if we come in?”

Sadie nodded and went to him. “We need to get back to the store. Aden, some boxes
in
Daed's
office need to be broken down. Could you help me with that?”

“I'll reopen the store,” Abigail said. Then she looked at Joanna. “Unless you need
me here.”

Joanna straightened. “I'm fine.” And she was. The more she committed to her decision,
the more confident she became.

Her sisters and Aden left. Andrew stood in the doorway. She went to him and frowned.
He looked pale. Wary. And unlike Andrew. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry, Joanna. If I'd known I would have said something.”

“What are you talking about?”

He went to the table and pulled out a chair for her. She shook her head. “I don't
want to sit down. You're scaring me, Andrew.”

“I need you to know I'm not keeping secrets from you.” He went to her. “I don't want
there to be anything between us but the truth. Crawford was at our house last week.”

“What?” She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Then she listened as he explained
what had happened. How Cameron had a baby daughter. How he was possibly skipping
town to protect her.

“He probably didn't want the child to go into foster care,” Andrew said. “Maybe that
has something to do with it.”

“What about the
boppli's mudder
?”

“She died in childbirth.”

Joanna's heart pinched. Now she was surer than ever about her decision. “I need to
see Cameron.”

She saw his jaw jerk. “I don't think that's a
gut
idea—”

She put her finger on his lips. “And I want you to
geh
with me.”

He paused, then removed her finger from his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He tilted his head and gave her a half-smile. “I can tell. I don't think I could
change
yer
mind if I wanted to.”

“Then you'll come with me?”

“
Ya
. I will.”

Joanna blew out a breath. Seeing Cameron would be hard, but it was the right thing
to do—not just for him, but for her too.

CHAPTER 18

C
ameron sat on the edge of his hard bed in the tiny jail cell. He'd been barely able
to sleep since he'd turned himself in the day before. How could he sleep when he
had no idea how Lacy was doing? Mrs. Rodriguez still had her, as far as he knew.
Every time he asked someone about his daughter, no one would give him any information.
More than once he'd doubted his decision to turn himself in. Then he thought about
Lacy being in the hospital, about his promise to God, and how relieved his conscience
had been when he'd finally made the phone call.

He stood and went to the front of the cell, leaning his forehead against the bars.
They had shaved his hair shorter than it had been in years, and it resembled a military
cut. This was on the recommendation of his court-appointed attorney, who had talked
to him for no more than five minutes after he'd been arraigned. Not that there was
much to talk about. He was guilty, he was going to plead guilty, and he would serve
his time. Those were the only things he was sure about right now.

He closed his eyes, and although he didn't intend to, he started to pray.
God, I
don't deserve to ask this, and I'm not asking for myself. I'm asking for Lacy. She
deserves more than foster care. She deserves someone who will take good care of her.
Please, take care of my baby girl . . .

The prayer turned rambling and nonsensical, and he eventually gave up, figuring
God wasn't listening anyway. He went back to his cot and lay down. Somehow he managed
to fall asleep, because the next thing he knew he heard the jangle of keys.

“You have a visitor,” the deputy said.

Cameron got up, let the deputy put handcuffs on his wrists, and allowed himself to
be led to what he assumed was an interrogation room, where he would probably meet
with his lawyer. Who else would be visiting him? He was determined not to cause any
trouble, to be on his best behavior. He didn't want to give the judge a reason to
extend his sentence.

When he walked into the room, he saw Mrs. Rodriguez and nearly collapsed from relief,
only to have that change to panic when he didn't see Lacy with her. “What's wrong?”
he asked, trying to get closer to the older woman.

The deputy pulled him back. “Sit down at the table,” he said, taking him to the chair.

Cameron complied, his gaze not leaving Mrs. Rodriguez. Dread churned within him.
Something was wrong. He couldn't catch a break. Then again, he didn't deserve one.

“I'll be right outside,” the deputy said to Mrs. Rodriguez. “I'm keeping the door
open.”

She nodded, then looked back at Cameron. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Elaine,” he said, using her first name for the first time. The
muscles in his jaw
jerked in rapid succession. “What happened to Lacy?” He steeled himself for the worst
possible answer.

She finally relaxed. “Nothing.” Then she smiled. “Your daughter is fine. She's at
day care right now.” She looked around the room, wrinkling her nose. “I've never
been to see someone in jail.”

Guilt churned within him. “You shouldn't have come.”

“I wanted to. I needed to see how you are doing. I left Lacy at day care because
I didn't think this would be a good place for a baby.”

“It isn't.” He leaned back in his chair, relieved that Lacy was okay but his heart
aching from missing her.
This isn't a good place for anyone.

“The officer told me I didn't have a lot of time to talk to you, so I'll make this
quick.” She cleared her throat.

Cameron steeled himself for her disappointment, for her anger that he had left Lacy
with her, for him being dishonest with her. Any anger she had toward him was well
placed, and he would take what he deserved.

“I understand why you left,” she said. “I understand why you ran.” She leaned forward.
“Why didn't you tell me what happened? I thought you knew you could tell me anything.
That you trusted me.”

“I do trust you. But I didn't want you involved.”

“I'm involved now.”

The guilt churning within him was excruciating. “I know. And I'm sorry. For everything.”

She sighed. “When you and Mackenzie came to my door and asked to see the apartment,
I knew there was a reason you were there. There was something special about the both
of you.
And the way you cared for Lacy after Mackenzie's death . . .” She drew in
a breath. “Remember when I told you you're like a son to me?”

He fought the lump in his throat and nodded.

“That hasn't changed. It won't, no matter what you've done.”

“How can you say that?” He ran his hand over his shorn hair, then stopped, unused
to the short length.
Mackenzie would hate to see it like this. She'd hate to see
what I've become.

“Cameron, I believe you're a good man at heart. I know you haven't shared parts of
your past with me, and I respect your right to your privacy. But I also suspect that
what you keep bottled inside is torturing you. I hope one day you can let it go.”
She smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You're so young . . . The burden you've
had to bear.” She held a tissue up to her nose and blew loudly. “I love Lacy like
she was my own granddaughter. I want to take care of her, and you.”

Cameron blinked. “What do you mean?”

“My cousin is a social worker, and I've already been in contact with her. There
would be paperwork to fill out, and I'll need a background check and a home visit,
but if you name me Lacy's guardian while you're . . . gone, she could live with me.”

He couldn't breathe. A shiver ran through him as he remembered his prayer earlier
that day. He'd never thought God was listening, much less answering. But he had to
be sure he was hearing her correctly. “I could be put away for a long time. My lawyer
says it could be ten years or more.” His voice shook.

“I know. And I would take care of her like she was my flesh and blood. I'll bring
her to visit you. She'll write you letters when she's able.” Elaine smiled. “I'll
even teach her a little Spanish.”

Cameron had to keep himself from collapsing with relief, yet he was still troubled.
“I don't deserve this.”

“It doesn't matter what you think you deserve. This is what I want to do.” She reached
for his hands, which were resting, still cuffed, on the table. “You're a good man,
Cameron.”

“Was,” he said, clinging to her hand.

“You still are. I want your daughter to grow up knowing that.”

“And because of you,” he said thickly, this time unable to stem the flow of tears,
“she will.”

The next morning Joanna looked at Cameron sitting at the table across from her. He
wouldn't
meet
her gaze. Maybe she shouldn't have come. This was painful for both
of them.
When
she left that morning in a taxi with Andrew, her sisters had begged
her
not
to go. She had ignored them, as well as the doubts she saw in Andrew's eyes
on
the
way to the jail. Now that she was here in this small room, facing the man
who
had
changed her life forever, she wondered if they had all been right. Yet something
greater
than
doubt flickered within her. She believed Cameron needed to hear that
he
was
forgiven as much as she needed to say the words to him.

He was thin. His black hair was buzzed short and he was clean-shaven. The orange
jail clothes he wore made his pale skin look sallow. She saw a small scar bisect
his left eyebrow and wondered if he'd gotten it in the accident. It was a fraction
of the size of her own scar, but it could still be a permanent reminder of what happened.
When he finally looked at her, his gaze went to her scar, making her flush.

Thinking about Cameron as a protector of his child was quite different from knowing
he was the one who killed her parents. He had taken so much from her family. Yet
hadn't he lost just as much?

Andrew sat next to her, his body rigid, like a marble statue. Despite his tension,
she drew comfort from his presence beside her, glad he was with her.

“I'm surprised you wanted to meet with me,” Cameron said, again averting his eyes.
His shoulders and back were slumped, and he was practically hunching over the table.
He looked at her, then at Andrew. “I don't know what to say. ‘I'm sorry' isn't enough.”

Joanna felt Andrew's strong, rough hand clasp hers underneath the table. She held
on tight.

“Your family helped me and Lacy,” Cameron said to Andrew. He leaned forward with
his elbows on the table, running his hand over his shorn head. “And I lied to you.
I owe it to you to tell you why.”

“Because of your daughter,” Joanna said.

Cameron lifted his head. “I spent most of my life in foster care. My parents were
losers. I didn't know my dad, and my mom was high on drugs half the time. I spent
time with people I didn't know and never really felt like part of a family. I ended
up living in a group home the last few years before I turned eighteen. Then I was
out of the system. I didn't have much to my name, and I was basically alone.