Trust in Me (8 page)

She tuned in when Roman Becker asked, “Why’d you leave Glen Oaks in such a hurry, Murphy?”

Joe swallowed hard and his gray eyes flashed with something—not anger, something self-directed. “For personal reasons, Mr. Becker. I can assure you, I’ve changed since I last walked the streets of this town. I hope you’ll all give me a chance to show you that.”

They
didn’t have a choice. But Annie did.

“Now, if we can get down to business.” He glanced at the clock. “I understand the Council meets on Fridays. I’ve acquainted myself with the procedures of the group—which, by the way, I believe is a sound, well-run committee.” He picked up a folder. “And I’ve read the file on Ronny Donovan.”

“You gonna be able to be objective about the kid, Joe?” Mayor Hunsinger asked. “Wasn’t his father a good friend of yours?”

Joe glanced at Linc. Annie saw Linc’s expression soften. He was always the most sentimental, the most forgiving, of them. The vise around her chest tightened. What if Linc sided with Joe?

“We knew this would be an issue on the Council in general,” Linc said. “Because Glen Oaks is a small town, members would know or may be related to the teens who come before us. We haven’t had a problem with it before. And any time there was a question, we’ve worked it out.”

“But Murphy’s in charge of this committee, like Marnie was. He has a lot of power.”

“I think I can be objective, Al. My past experiences and training have taught me that allowing someone’s bad behavior to continue is not in their best interests. The old concept of tough love.” After more questions and a brief discussion of the case at hand, he glanced at the clock again. “If there’s nothing else, we can adjourn until Friday. I don’t intend to prolong meetings when it’s not necessary.”

Everyone agreed. In minutes, the room emptied of all but Linc, Annie and Joe, who stood and faced each other. Someone closed the door, its snick loud and meaningful. Annie felt Linc squeeze her shoulder, then he turned to Joe. “This is a hell of a thing.”

Joe shrugged. “I know it’s a surprise.” He looked directly at Annie. “I did it this way on purpose. I didn’t want to give you time to take off, or get a restraining order, without giving me a chance to show you I’ve changed.”

Annie flicked her fingers against the résumé she’d picked up from the table. “A few degrees and some jobs working with kids isn’t proof you don’t hit women anymore.”

Her comment had found its target. His face flushed and he cleared his throat. “No, it doesn’t. But I spent a full year in a Batterer’s Recovery Program in the city. I’ve also had three years of private counseling.”

“You’re still a wife beater,” she said starkly.

Raising his chin, he held her gaze. “I’m a
recovered
wife beater.”

Linc leaned over and whispered, “Annie, you have options.”

She blew out a heavy breath. “There’s no way I’m going to let you see your children unsupervised, or be alone with me and them.”

Joe said, “I don’t expect—” He halted mid-sentence, stared blankly at her. Ludicrously his gaze dropped to her stomach, making her realize what she’d revealed.

“Children?” His shoulders sagged and his confidence visibly receded. “You didn’t lose the baby that night?”

Sighing, she averted her face and scrubbed her fingers over her eyes.

Linc put a hand on her shoulder again. “He would’ve found out soon anyway, Annie.”

Resignedly, she nodded.

Linc faced Joe. Very simply he said, “You have a five-year-old daughter, Joe. Her name is Faith.”

o0o

BEFORE Joe could react, Roman Becker and Al Hunsinger came back in and asked to talk to him privately. Annie watched her ex-husband agree, turn and ask Linc and her to wait for him, then calmly follow the other men to the mayor’s office. She was stunned by his composure. For a man who’d just been told he had a second child, he seemed as cool as a winter morning.

She and Linc tried to discuss the ramifications of Joe’s decision to come back to Glen Oaks, but they were both shell-shocked and didn’t have much to say. When Joe finally returned, she faced him, ready to do battle. Linc stood a little in front of her, as if to protect her. One of the side effects of what Joe had done to her was her best friends’ guilt for not realizing Annie was being battered. Linc’s was the worst. Though Annie had assured them she’d purposely kept it to herself, ashamed and afraid to let on what was happening—God, it had been such a cliché—her three best friends suffered over their ignorance.

Joe faced her, his jaw hard, his features taut; but his gray eyes burned with intensity. “I have a daughter?” His voice had cracked on the word.

“Yes.” Annie crossed her arms over her stomach in remembered pain. “No thanks to you.”

A muscle leapt in his throat. “Is she...is she all right?”

Annie knew what he was asking. A swift kick in the stomach during pregnancy could cause brain damage. Luckily, the blow had landed on the top of her thighs, not where he’d aimed; still, the hospital had been concerned about a miscarriage because she’d fallen. “She’s fine. A lot smarter than you or I ever will be.”

Which was a lie. Long ago, Annie had figured out that one of Joe’s issues was his frustration over his intellect. No one else had known he was so smart, no one had encouraged him, and he’d seethed with a severely stifled brain. To top it off, all his adult life he’d worked a rote, mindless job at the local electronics parts plant.

His eyes closed briefly when she told him Faith was mentally and physically fine. In gratitude? She guessed it probably was, but Annie wasn’t about to feel sorry for him.

“Does she dance? Like you used to?”

Annie only nodded. In truth, when she danced, Faith floated through the air as graceful as gently moving clouds, and had that indefinable quality that made the difference between a dance student and a potential pro. Annie herself had had it, too. Joe, of course, had been jealous of her dancing and had wanted her to quit. But by the time she reached high school, she was teaching dance and earning money, which she needed to live, so he let her do it. After they married, it was a necessary source of income.

“What do you want, Joe?” Linc asked.

“I want to see my son...and my daughter.”

Linc zeroed in on him with his minister look. “Why now?”

Joe straightened to his full height, and Annie had to keep herself from flinching at those big hands and muscular arms that could inflict so much pain. “Because I’m better now. I’m not the man I was six years ago.” He scanned the two of them, then focused on Annie. “I know I’m recovered, and it’s safe for me to see my kids.”

“
I
don’t know that.” Annie’s voice was hard and cold.

“Yes, well that’s why I’m moving back. To prove it to you.”

“You’re dreaming, pal, if you think I’ll let you near Annie or the kids alone.”

The corners of Joe’s mouth turned up just a bit, despite the gravity of the situation. Every once in a while, the street kid peeked out of the minister, and showed that Linc was still as tough as nails. “I have legal rights, Linc.” He turned to Annie. “But I don’t want to go that route. I’m willing to do this informally, if we can.” He opened his briefcase, fished out a manila envelope and handed it to Linc.

With a frown Linc took the folder.

“Here’s some documentation that might help. Papers verifying completion of a year-long court-sanctioned recovery program, and evaluations by the counselors. Transcripts from the educational institutions I attended. Reports from the support groups I run.” He shifted from one foot to the other, as if the subject made him nervous. “And there are phone numbers to call to check the facts, if you don’t believe me.” He stared at the file, then at Linc. “I thought maybe you could manage this whole thing.”

“Me?”

“Uh-huh.” Joe raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a shock, but as I said, I was afraid to do it any other way. Afraid you’d try to keep me from them.”

Annie frowned. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

His eyes got so bleak, she was silenced by their expression. “I’m afraid,” he said simply. “Of a lot of things.” He drew in a deep breath. “I always was. All I’m asking for is a chance. If you’ll go along with my request, I promise I’ll do this however you say, but I’ve got to see my kids.”

He was right. He did have legal rights, no matter what he’d done. After she got healthy, Annie had researched domestic abuse. Some batterers were even left in the home with their families while they went through a legally mandated recovery program, probably like the one Joe had been in. After six years of rehabilitation and counseling, then coming here as a cross between Doctor Spock and Sigmund Freud, any court in the world would let Joe Murphy see his kids.

So she said, “I’ll think about it.”

Linc sighed. “Annie, there’s something else. This is a small town. By tomorrow, everybody’ll know he’s back. Matt and Faith will hear it at the corner store.”

She nodded. “I’ll tell them in the morning. I’d like to leave now.”

Joe stopped her with his words. “I’d like to tell my mother and Suzie.”

Who was at her house. It would be hard to keep Joe’s arrival in Glen Oaks a secret from her sister-in-law. She loved Suzie like a real sister and valued her friendship, not to mention her partnership in the business.

“I plan to visit them tomorrow morning,” Joe added. “It will be easier for them if I let them know I’m back.”

She looked to Linc.

“I agree,” he said.

“Fine. I d like to go now, Linc. I’m whipped.”

Linc told Joe he would get in touch with him at the motel just outside of town where he was staying, and they both left without saying goodbye. Joe stayed where he was, and Annie felt his eyes bore into her as they left the tension-filled room.

Chapter 4

FOR one of the first times in his life, Ron Donovan was down-and-dirty scared. He glanced over at his mother, who sat like a stick in the chair, dressed in a dark skirt and fuzzy pink sweater, as she listened to the Youth Council members discuss his latest sin. Her pretty brown hair was pulled off her face in a knot, making her look fragile.

She hadn’t laid a guilt trip on him, though. She’d just made him hot chocolate that first night, as she always did when things got bad, and tried to get him to spill his guts the next day. And that made him feel like pond scum. But he couldn’t talk to her about this.

Catching him staring at her, she reached over and squeezed his arm.
No matter what, buddy, we’ll get through this
, she’d told him a thousand times. But he’d heard her crying at night, alone in her room, like she hadn’t cried since his dad died. That worried him more than anything. His mother was tougher than anybody he knew. What he’d done this time had really thrown her, probably because it concerned his father.

Or maybe because her only son could go to jail. His gut clenched. His only hope of reprieve, the eight people seated at the table in front of him, seemed about as sympathetic as a jury for Jeffrey Dahmer.

On the other side of him, his aunt Margo smiled at him, too, foxy as ever in cool black jeans, a black sweater and boots. Huge gold hoops dangled from her ears and matched the jangling bracelets on her wrist. He’d known he was in deep shit when she’d shown up from the city to go to the Council meeting with them; but he’d been glad to see her. About the only person in the world who understood him these days was Margo Morelli, his mom’s best friend. Because she hated Glen Oaks as much as he did and there was something inside her, a streak of rebelliousness, that he recognized as kin to his own. However, the fact that she’d come home for this meeting was a wake-up call to Ron.

As the mayor droned on about his priors—truancy, vandalism, petty theft, possession of marijuana, underage drinking with a DUI—Ron checked out his uncle Linc. It was obvious that
he’d
been glad to see Margo. His eyes had lit up like the lights around the racetrack when she’d strutted her stuff into the room. Linc was a cool guy, and not afraid to show his feelings. He’d talked to Ron about sex a zillion times, and admitted his own needs as a man. For a minister, Ron thought that was pretty mag. Of course, Ron knew Linc had been hell on wheels when he was young, along with his mother and their friends. Hell, maybe his getting into trouble was genetic.

When the mayor finished his speech, the head honcho running the meeting faced Ron. Joe Murphy—the guy who’d stopped traffic when he’d walked into the town hall. Jesus Christ, he was Annie’s ex. Ron didn’t have a clue what had happened between him and Annie—it was hushed up like state secrets. Whatever it was, though, made the nicest woman he’d ever met glower at the guy all night and made his mom and even Margo gasp when they saw him. “Ron, we need to hear a few things from you.”

Ron nodded at Murphy’s comment.
Be respectful, kid, and don’t let that chip on your shoulder show, or I’ll beat the crap out of you
, Margo had told him.

“Yes, sir,” he said politely.

“We can all guess why you did this. But tell us in your own words.”

There was a low murmur of voices among the group when Ron didn’t answer right away. He wanted to scream at them to leave him the hell alone. But this was too important to blow, so he battled back the urge. When he needed it, he had his mother’s grit. Besides, he was scared shitless of going to jail. In halting words, he told them what he’d done and tried to explain why. “It was like this anger just took me over—kind of a red haze, making everything fuzzy.”

Murphy’s broad shoulders straightened. His intense eyes focused sharply on Ron. “Do you have a problem controlling your anger, son?”

No, Sherlock, I smile when I mutilate cars, vandalize the school and steal from stores
. “Yeah.”

Murphy nodded. “And your anger at Mr. Quaid has to do with your father’s death?”

Ron’s hands fisted.

Murphy glanced pointedly at them. “You have to say it out loud, Ron, to have any chance of controlling what you feel.”

“Yeah. It’s because of my father.” Though his mother and Linc had talked of forgiveness, had said it was a twist of fate that had caused the accident that Ron had witnessed when he was seven, no amount of rationalization could acquit Quaid in his mind.