Trust in Me (16 page)

Beth stared after him for a long time, the imprint of his touch still warm on her skin.

Chapter 8

ANNIE waited by the window, watching for Joe. Faith was so excited that he was coming she didn’t have the heart to put a damper on it. Though inside, she churned with fear, and anger, she forced herself to be cheerful about this first visit. Trying to think of something good about him, she remembered taking Ronny to prison Friday and how Joe had come for Beth.

Her friend had been alarmingly pale when they came out of the interior of the jail, but she seemed calm. Immediately, Linc rose and crossed to her. “You okay, kiddo?” he’d asked.

“I’m fine.”

Margo shook her head and stood. “You’re not fine.” The fringe of the suede vest she wore with jeans and cowboy boots shimmied with her movement. Annie had been reminded of their gang’s title. The five of them were so different now. Who had those kids been?

Annie stood, too. “You don’t have to be strong with us.”

Beth gave a small smile. “I’m not. I almost fell apart in there with Joe.”

Annie’s eyes had narrowed on her ex-husband. His tan sweater looked expensive, as did the creamy brown leather jacket he’d thrown over it. She’d noticed the designer logo on his jeans. Turning away, she grabbed her fleece jacket, shrugged into it and said, “Let’s go.”

Margo and Linc entwined arms with Beth, and Annie was forced to fall into step with Joe next to her. Immediately her breath seized up in her throat; she was once again dwarfed by his size. She struggled to take in air.

As if he sensed her anxiety, he moved away when they got outside, walking parallel but not close. When they reached the van, they all faced each other.

Beth spoke first. “Thanks Joe, for what you did in there.”

He patted her shoulder. He’d always been a toucher. Very physical.
Too physical
. “I’m glad I could help. Would you like me to come back with you Sunday night?”

Annie had bitten her tongue to keep from saying they didn’t need him. Ultimately she wanted what was best for Beth and Ronny.

“No, thanks.” Beth smiled. “This was more than enough.”

He fished in his pocket and took out a card. “I’ll be in the city if you change your mind. Here’s my number.”

Beth thanked him again, and Linc shook his hand. “I appreciate this, too.”

Begrudgingly, Margo echoed the sentiments. Annie said nothing, thinking if she remained stone-faced and mute, she’d feel nothing inside.

Joe’s expression was somber when he faced her. “Could I talk to you before you leave?”

Fear fluttered in her stomach.

It must have shown in her eyes, because he added, “Right out here. The others can watch you from the car and I’ll stay back.” His tone made her agree. It was so sad it penetrated the wall she’d built up against him.

“All right.”

As the others climbed into the van, the wind picked up, and she shivered in the light jacket and simple denim dress.

“Button your coat,” he said automatically. “It’s cold.”

She arched a brow. “I can take care of myself, Joe. I’ve done it for six years and I never plan to stop.”

“Sorry, it was reflex.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I’d like to know the setup for tomorrow.”

Linc had scheduled him to see the kids Sunday afternoon.

“Setup?”

“Where will I meet with Faith and Matt?”

She bit her lip. “We should do what’s best for the kids. When is Linc free?”

“One to five.”

“You could take them out somewhere. But it’s hard to find something to entertain both of them at once. There’s such an age difference.”

He grinned then, an old familiar smile that used to wrap around her heart. She’d seen it when they’d first had sex in the backseat of his Chevy and he’d said,
I’ll always love you, baby
. She remembered it from when he asked her to marry him on that warm summer night with the stars twinkling above him. And it had been there when he used to stoop to take Matt out of his crib in the morning and nuzzle the baby’s neck. “They’re great kids, Annie. Faith’s a beautiful child. You’ve done a good job with them.”

She ignored the compliment. He was too dangerous to encourage. “Maybe you and Linc could take them to lunch at Beth’s place.”

“All right. And after?”

“You seem to have an idea.”

“No, this is your call.”

A hunch told her he was lying, that he had something in mind. The old controlling Joe was just clawing to come out.

What’s best for the kids?
she reminded herself.

“Maybe you should come back to the house afterward. That way, if you do something with one of them, the other will be in familiar surroundings. You can divide your time between them. And Linc might be able to get some work done, or even rest up. God knows he needs it.”

“All right.”

“I’ll expect you and Linc at one.” She focused on him. “Don’t come without him.”

He recoiled at the emotional slap in the face. “I won’t.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “But for the record, I’m recovered. I’m not going to hurt you or them ever again.”

Annie straightened. “Sometimes, when I dance, my shoulder still bothers me from where it was dislocated twice. By you.” With that she turned, refusing to buy into the agonized look on his face. Head high, she got in the van and slammed the door shut.

As they pulled out, she caught a glimpse of him, standing in the dismal morning, the foreboding jail behind him, all alone.

Which was exactly what he deserved....

From her vigil by the window, she saw Linc’s car pull into the driveway, bringing her back to reality. Her heartbeat automatically sped up at the thought of letting Joe into her house.

“Mommy,” Faith called out excitedly. “Daddy’s here.”

Annie swallowed back her fear. For her daughter’s sake, she’d pull this off.

“Yes, honey, I know.” She swallowed hard. “He’s here.”

o0o

“YOU look like a martyr on his way to the Coliseum.” From the other side of the car, Linc’s voice was filled with humor and good-old-boy razzing. Joe was reminded of the nights he, Linc and Danny had caroused around the city on their bikes without the girls. Sometimes he missed that kind of camaraderie so much it stung. Other than Pete and Taylor, Joe had no good friends.

“Nope. Martyrs don’t get what they deserve.” Joe’s tone was dry.

As he shut off the car, Linc said, “They’re good kids. It’ll be fine.”

Silent, Joe stared at her house. It was a moderate-sized, older two-story with a high, pitched roof. A jaunty little weather vane perched on the peak. Sided in white aluminum with black shutters, the early afternoon sun sparkled off the exterior. “It’s nice,” he said simply. “She’s done well.”

“She has.”

“No thanks to me.”

Linc sighed heavily. “You sent money—”

Joe interrupted him. “Forget I said that. I swore not to put you in the middle of all this. You’re on her side and that’s the way it should be.”

“I’m not sure there has to be sides.”

“If there does, she needs you.”

“What do you need, Joe?”

He swallowed hard and glanced at his old buddy. “A chance with the kids. That’s all.”

“Then let’s go. I think I see pink ribbons at the front window.”

Joe’s head snapped around. Peeking out between the drapes was a tiny heart-shaped face; blond hair was indeed pulled back with ribbons and there was a huge smile on her face. For a moment, Joe was dumbstruck by her innocent acceptance. “I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s for God to judge. If you’d come to church this morning, you’d have heard that in my sermon.”

“Really?”

Linc smiled easily. “Seems to me everybody in this town could use a reminder of the need to do unto others...”

“I didn’t want to upset anybody by coming to church.”

“Were you back? I had the impression at the jail you spent the weekend in New York.”

“I had business in New York yesterday, but I came back last night.” He reached for the door. Linc’s arm shot out and gripped his sleeve. Joe faced him.

“Sorry I have to ask this, but the business you had in town? You’re not into anything you shouldn’t be, are you?”

Joe cocked his head in question.

Linc scanned Joe’s leather jacket, pressed jeans and open cream-colored shirt. They were in stark contrast to Linc’s cheap jeans and denim shirt. “Pretty nice duds for a social worker.”

Ah, he got it. It shouldn’t have hurt so much; he should have been prepared for it. He needed to be ready for these emotional ambushes. “I’m not into anything illegal. Occasionally, I have a second job.”

“Occasionally?”

Joe battled back a grin.
This
was not something he wanted to share with the man who used to razz him about the kind of underwear he wore. “It’s a long story. But it’s harmless.”

Linc waited. “All right. I’ll take your word for it.” Softly, he added, “You could think about trusting me, Joe.”

Ever the minister. “Thanks.” He drew in a deep breath. “Let’s go face the lions in their den.”

More like a friendly cub, Joe thought, as Annie opened the front door and a little bundle pounced from the other side of the room, throwing herself, literally, into his arms. “Daddy!”

He grabbed her and held on tight, closing his eyes to savor the feel of her sturdy little body. She smelled like chocolate. “Hi, princess.” When he glanced up, Annie was watching them, her face grave. Dressed in paint-splattered jeans and a long T-shirt, she looked fifteen again. From behind her, Matt leaned against the archway to the dining room. Every Linc of his body—from his damp hair to his Yankees sweatshirt to his blue jeans—was taut with adolescent mutiny. “Hi, Matt. Hello, Annie.”

“Joe.” Her tone was cold; he studied her face. There were lines of fatigue on her brow and around her mouth again today. He had a flash of her coming home from hours of dancing, absolutely depleted. When he was sober, and sane, he’d rub her down for a long half hour, draw a bath, then put her to sleep with tender sex. The image stunned him for a minute. Years ago, he’d forced himself to stop thinking about her that way.

Faith scrambled out of his arms and down to the floor. She grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “Come on, Daddy.” She seemed unaware of the tense dynamics filling the air. “I maked you lunch.”

“I thought we were going out.” He stepped inside and Linc followed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Annie kiss Linc’s cheek and thank him for coming. Jealousy sparked inside him but he didn’t allow it to kindle.

“You’re not. Faith wanted to fix you lunch.” Annie gave him a challenging look. “Think you can handle that?”

“Of course. I’ll put my best foot forward.”

“What does that mean?” Faith asked as she drew him to the dining room.

“To make a good impression.”

“I don’t get it,” Matt said sulkily. The absence of a greeting, let alone Faith’s warm welcome, spoke volumes.

“It’s an idiom,” Joe told him, “a phrase people use that doesn’t mean what the words say.”

Faith frowned. “Why do people say it?”

Joe shrugged. “Usually it comes down through the ages.” He surveyed the table and broke out into a big grin.

“I maked it all by myself,” Faith announced proudly.

“Well, you’re a regular five-star chef.”

Set out were the most lopsided sandwiches he’d ever seen, piled high on plates. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were peanut butter and jelly. Next to them was a cut-up banana, a quartered apple and a pitcher of milk.

“Mommy helped me with the cake.”

“Cake?”

“Uh-huh. It’s in the kitchen.”

“This is baby food,” Matt said.

Faith’s face fell.

Without missing a beat, Joe dropped down to his knee. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had PB and J.” He grinned. “And chocolate is my favorite kind of cake.”

That brought the sun back into her face. “How’d you know it’s chocolate?”

“You got a little on your sleeve, honey.” With a flourish he stood and pulled out a chair. “May I seat you, madam?”

Faith giggled but sat with dramatic flair. From the corner of his eye, he saw Matt scowl. “You know those idioms, Matt? They have some interesting origins.”

He saw a glimmer of interest before the kid doused it. “So?”

“Why don’t we sit and I’ll tell you about some?”

Annie had been standing in the doorway watching the scene. Finally, she said, “I’ll be upstairs.”

Linc was next to her. “Since I’ve already eaten, I’ll be in the living room. I think the Knicks are on.”

And he could see them from where he’d watch TV. The fact that Joe needed a chaperone cut him to the quick. He’d discussed it with Pete yesterday, and his counselor had preached patience once again.

Faith talked away as the three of them choose food from the plates. After several minutes of her chatter, and Matt’s incessant pout, Joe addressed his son. “So, Matt, you wanna know where
putting your best foot forward
came from?”

Matt shrugged.

“I do,” Faith said, bless her soul.

“Well, in earlier centuries, wealthy people were overly concerned with a person’s beauty. They wore ruffled sleeves and powdered wigs.”

Faith’s eyes were owl wide. “Even the boys?”

“Yep. Many rich men, who didn’t have anything better to do, took pride in showing off a good pair of legs. Some went so far as to think one leg might be more attractive than the other.”

“That’s stupid.” Matt donned a sneer, but Joe could see he was listening attentively.

“At parties and balls—dances—they’d find a place where they could stand with their best looking leg in front.”

Faith giggled. “It’s dumb, Daddy.”

“I know. People do dumb things.” Joe smiled. “Anyway, that’s where we get
putting your best foot forward
.”

Matt was silent, munching on an apple, which he’d dipped in some caramel sauce. Almost against his will he said, “There’s lots of those sayings in sports. I read about them.”

“Yeah? Tell me some.” Joe helped himself to the fruit. It was tart and, cut by the sauce, tasted better to him today than Godiva chocolate.