Trust in Me (12 page)

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You back to stay?”

Carefully he stirred in the cream and watched the black liquid turn to pale brown. “I hope so.”

“Not nice to abandon those two little babies of yours.”

He felt his face flush. “I wasn’t a nice man then, Mrs.... ?”

 “Gerty.” Sharp brown eyes focused on him through her granny glasses. “You a nice guy now?”

“Yes, I am.” He sipped the coffee, its strong rich taste giving him the caffeine jolt he needed.

Gerty shrugged and said, “Hrrmph,” just as Beth came out from the back.

Her face was drawn and she looked exhausted; she spotted him and glanced anxiously at the clock. Biting her lip, she came toward him. “Hi, Joe. He’s not here, yet. I’m sorry. I know—”

Joe touched her arm. “It’s all right, Beth. I’ll talk to him about the importance of punctuality and responsibility. I made this first session informal to set ground rules and consequences, and get to know each other a little.”

Her eyes glistened. “He’s a nice boy, Joe.”

“I’m sure he is. And I believe in second chances.” His words were rife with meaning, and though she’d never gone to college, Beth was smart.

She gave him a half smile. “So do I. I had mine with this place and Tony Scarpino.” She scanned the diner. “And you’re getting yours. So Ronny will, right?”

“Why don’t you sit and have—“ His words were cut off as the door flew open.

Ron Donovan burst through it shouldering a backpack and wearing an anxious expression on his face. He checked the clock. “Oh, Christ, sorry I’m late.” His eyes sought out his mother’s and his expression softened. “Really, Mom, I had a reason. Mr. Johnson let me work after school with the CAD program.”

She looked at him tenderly. “Mr. Murphy will talk to you about that.”

“Joe,” he said, standing. At least he was on firm ground here. He knew how to counsel teenagers. “I like to be on a first-name basis with my kids.”

Ron’s expression was wary. “Your kids?”

“Yeah, let’s take a seat in one of the booths; I’ll tell you about my background and you can tell me about yours.”

“Want something, honey?” Beth asked as Joe picked up his coffee cup.

“A coke. Thanks, Mom.”

Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “Hang in there, buddy. Joe’s an old friend, you remember.”

Joe’s heart warmed. Though she said it mostly for the boy, he vowed she’d view him again as a friend who could be trusted. They settled in the most private booth they could find. After Gerty delivered Ron’s coke, Joe sipped his coffee and stared at Danny’s son. This close, he looked so much like his father at his age that for a moment Joe just sat back and took it in. God, he remembered Danny—sitting in this very diner.
I’m gonna win the Winston Cup someday, Joey, I know it.
And on his and Beth’s wedding day, Joe and Linc had teased him mercilessly.
Go ahead and rag on me. Your time’s comin’
. And when Ronny was born,
Honest to God, guys, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

“What you staring at?” Ronny asked.

Joe smiled. “I was just thinking about your father. The day you were born, he told me and your uncle Linc it was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“No shit?”

Shaking his head, Joe said, “He was a wild kid, but he had a gentle streak, for you and your mother.”

Ronny’s eyes turned bleak. “Nobody talks about him anymore.”

“Do you want to talk about him?”

“I don’t care.”

Joe recognized the teenage bravado. “Well, if you do, we can spend a little time in each of our sessions discussing your dad. I’ve got stories galore about him.”

Ron looked down. “He’d be disappointed in me.” He drew a ring on the table with the dew from his glass.

“Yeah, he wouldn’t like the stuff you’ve been into. He’d ride your butt about it. But he’d understand, too.”

“Cause he was a member of the Outlaws?”

Joe nodded.

“You, too.”

“Yeah, we all were.”

“Answer something for me?”

“Sure, if I can.”

“Why does Mom pitch a fit about Loose and the other guys I hang out with when she was so wild?”

“Maybe it’s because we
were
so wild. We weren’t a good influence on each other and she knows what can happen.”

“You all turned out okay.”

“Maybe.”

“Margo said you cared about each other and those guys don’t give a shit about me.”

Joe seized the opening. “Well, we all care about you, too. Adult concern is something the Outlaws never had. And we’d like to keep you from repeating our mistakes.” He smiled sadly.

Ron looked at the partially open backpack on the table. Joe tracked his gaze. A sketch pad with blueprints was sticking out. “Tell me about the things you like to do.”

Swallowing hard, Ronny was silent.

“You said you were late because you were working with Mr. Johnson on some CAD drawings.” Joe shot a glance at the pad. “Are those them?”

A spark lit Ron’s eyes. “Yeah. I, um, like to draw stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugged. “Mostly cars.” He glanced over to the office door where Beth had retreated. “Mom doesn’t like it. Grandma and Grandpa have a fit about it.”

“Can I see your drawings?”

Again the shrug.

Joe waited. He knew kids, and he knew they succumbed to interest in what they liked to do better than anything. Finally Ron tugged out the pad.

For ten minutes, Joe leafed through his sketchbook and opened up the drawings. They were very good, very professional. He told Ron so.

“I guess,” the boy said. “Mr. Johnson thinks so.”

Joe made a mental note to talk to Mr. Johnson. “We never had courses like this in high school.”

“I hear you were a terror there.”

“I’m afraid I was.”

“Why?”

This he could answer honestly. “A lot of reasons. One was I was pretty smart and everybody saw me as the thug I pretended to be. Nobody saw past it, so I acted out.”

Straightening his shoulders, Ron’s look was very adult. “I like Annie and the kids. Why’d you come back?”

“Because I want to spend time with them.”

“She wasn’t as happy as a pig in shit to see you.”

Joe’s heart constricted. “She’s got reason.”

“What?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t a very good husband or father.” He faced Ron squarely. “So you see, I need another chance, too.”

“That why you’re giving me one?”

“That, and I’ve read your file. I think you’re salvageable. You need help, though. We need to talk about what you’re feeling inside.”

Ron sighed heavily. “I don’t have much choice.”

“Well, you can opt for real prison instead of weekend jail and community service.”

Terror flickered across the kid’s face. Necessary, Joe knew, to drive home the point.

“I don’t want that.”

Sipping the last of his coffee, Joe took an appointment book out of his pocket. “Okay, let’s set up a schedule for our meetings.” He checked the clock. “And we have time to set some ground rules today.”

Again the terror. Joe recognized the fear that came from knowing you had to share your unprocessed thoughts. Because he’d been scared by it, too, he squeezed the arm of Danny’s son. “We’ll take it slow, Ron. It’ll work out. I promise.”

Chapter 6

“CAN I see you a minute?” Margo looked up from her desk to find Philip Hathaway looming in the doorway. Dressed in a slick Armani suit and perfectly matched shirt and tie, he was the epitome of corporate success. For some reason, Linc’s flannel shirt and worn jeans came to mind. Before she’d left Glen Oaks last weekend, she’d bought him three new pairs of denims and left them on the bed in his apartment.

“Yes, of course, Philip.”

He glanced at his watch, a Rolex that he’d bought with his last bonus. “Let’s go downstairs and have coffee.”

Margo hesitated. Though they’d often shared breaks at the Starbucks on the ground floor of their firm’s high-rise, she was uncomfortable going with him today. Things seemed fuzzy between them now, and she couldn’t bring them back into focus.

Running his hand through his perfectly styled hair and making it even more attractive, he gave her an ingenuous smile. “Look, there’s been a chill between us for almost two weeks. I feel bad, like I blew our friendship. I’d like to try to get back on track.” When she still hesitated, he said boyishly, “Please, Margo.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why not?” She was probably making too much of this anyway, and a good talk might clear the air. Grabbing her purse from her drawer, she stood and circled around her desk.

Philip whistled. “Wow. New dress?”

She’d bought the black sheath when she’d gotten back to New York from Glen Oaks. Linc’s psychological mind would have a field day with that. Paying the hefty price for a simple dress might just be the proof she needed that she was out of Glen Oaks, and the world that had taunted her in the name of
religion
, for good.

“Yeah.” She adjusted the black and white silk scarf she’d bought to go with it. “I needed perking up.”

“Well, baby, in that outfit you’ll
perk up
any man you see.”

She halted at the sexual innuendo.

“What?” he asked with choir boy innocence.

“Do you think that’s an appropriate remark, Philip?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sakes, I initiated the company’s sexual harassment policy, reviewed it, made my own changes and gave the final okay. We
really
need to talk if you take offense at that. It’s nothing I haven’t said before Boston.”

Was that true? Because he could be right, because Linc could just have spooked her about Philip with his suspicions and dire warnings, she shook her head and accompanied Philip downstairs. They made chitchat in the elevator about work, and found a table in a corner of the crowded coffee shop. Once she was seated, he ordered cafe au laic for them both from the counter without even asking if it was what she wanted. She wondered how long that kind of thing had been going on. It seemed intimate, and possessive. Damn, had she really given off mixed signals?

When he’d gotten their coffee and sat across from her, he stared over the rim of his cup with solemn blue eyes. “I’m sorry about that night in Boston. I can tell how upset you still are about it, and I don’t quite know what to do to make things right between us.”

“I’m not upset, Philip. Just disappointed.”

Hot emotion flared in his eyes. “I’m human, Margo. And I misread the signals.”

Guiltily she looked down at her coffee. She took a taste of the sweet confection. “If I’ve given them out, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Just as I didn’t mean to scare you off.” Reaching across the table he took her hand in his. His was big and warm from the mug. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I care about you, as a business associate and as a friend.”

She frowned at their clasped hands. Again she realized his touching her like this was nothing unusual. Wondering how gullible she’d been, she squeezed his fingers, extricated her hand and met his gaze. “I care about you, too. I probably overreacted.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes briefly then, and drew in a deep breath. “At least that’s settled.”

“What is it, Philip?”

“There’s something you don’t know. Something that might relate to what happened.”

Concerned, she set down her cup and braced her arms on the table. “Tell me.”

“I’m afraid to, now.”

“You can trust me.”

His blond brows arched. “Of course I can. And you can trust me.” His expression and tone were guileless, and she was beginning to feel like a fool for her behavior these past few days.

“I know,” she told him honestly. “I’ve overreacted. Let’s put it behind us. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Swallowing hard, he looked down at his hands and twisted his wedding band around nervously. “Things aren’t good with Sally and me.”

Margo pictured Sally Hathaway. She’d last seen the woman at the firm’s Christmas party. Tall and statuesque, Sally had been a goddess in a shimmery gold dress and piles of blond hair. Philip’s classic good looks had complimented her beautifully. “Since when?”

“For about six months. This time.”

“This time?”

“We’ve had problems before.”

“Over what?”

“I work too much. I don’t pay enough attention to her. I travel a lot.”

Margo hadn’t a clue. In the years she’d know the Hathaways, they’d always appeared the ideal couple. “I’m sorry, Philip.”

His gaze was profoundly intense. “You and I are a lot alike, Margo. You understand my work, you share my dedication to it. I find that very attractive. I’m not sorry for it. But I am sorry if I offended you that night.”

He was hurting, she could tell. And he’d been so good to her. Really, she was being unsophisticated about all this. Reaching over, this time she covered his hand with hers. “We’ve forgotten that, remember? Now, let’s talk about you and Sally.”

He smiled warmly at her and squeezed her hand. If he held on a little too long, Margo told herself, it was because he was upset about his marital problems.

Like hell
, Linc would say.

As Philip talked about his wife, Margo thought about Linc’s hands, and how calloused they were from the work he did around the church. And how they felt in her hair, on her shoulder, kneading her back.

Suddenly, a bigger more graphic image assaulted her.

She’d been fifteen, and he’d gone to rub her back one day in his old battered car. She’d flinched and pulled away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” She tried to keep stuff from him because he had a terrible temper in those days and she hated to see it spark.

His dark eyes narrowed on her. “Turn around.”

“Linc, please.”

“I wanna see.”

She’d argued, but eventually he had her facing away and lifted her sweater. “Fucking son of a bitch,” he’d said when he’d seen the strap marks. They were particularly bad that time.

“Why?” he asked tightly.

“I wouldn’t pray before dinner.”

“Margo, just do it when they ask you and avoid this.”