Trust in Me (7 page)

“What does this mean?” she’d asked, distressed over seeing Joe’s bold masculine scrawl on the envelope.

“Apparently he’s decided to start paying child support.”

“It’s from the city. He’s only an hour away?”

“I guess. Look, Annie, if he’s left you alone for two years, it’s not likely he’s coming back.”

“Oh, God. What if he does?”

“What if he does?” Linc had asked simply.

She’d sat in Linc’s cramped apartment over the church garage, taking deep breaths, trying to silence the alarm bells going off in her head. Finally she calmed enough to say, “I can handle it. I can call the police, or a friend. I can get another restraining order. He won’t hurt me unless I let him.”

“Good girl.”

Two years of therapy had done wonders; Annie had won the battle with what used to be incessant anxiety....

Suzie was talking to her. “What time do you have to leave?”

Annie looked over to see Faith nestled on Suzie’s lap, examining her aunt’s blue metallic nail polish. Annie knew she’d come home to find Faith’s finger-
and
toenails the exact color. Though she was an angelic child worthy of her name, she loved to try different things.

“Linc’s picking me up in ten minutes.”

“How come you have a midweek council meeting? Aren’t they usually on Friday?” Annie was the community representative on the three-year-old Glen Oaks Youth Council which, thank God, Linc had started to help kids in trouble. Like she’d been. Like they’d all been.

Her mind on business now, Annie wiped her hands on a towel, gathered up her purse, dragged a fleece jacket out of the closet and threw it on over her green sweater and jeans. “The new Social Services guy is coming tonight. This is to meet him.”

“I thought he wasn’t due until the end of the month.”

“He wasn’t. Haven’t you heard? Marnie” —the head of the Youth Council and director of Glen Oaks Social Services— “had a baby girl early—the day before yesterday.”

“No kidding.” Suzie looked at Annie. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Somebody from the city division. Apparently, he asked to come to Glen Oaks. Must have wanted a change of pace.”

“Hmm, new blood in town. How old is he?”

“I don’t know anything about him. No one does, since he wasn’t expected until April.” Annie grinned and ruffled Suzie’s hair on her way to the door. It was thick and silky—like Joe’s used to be. “I’ll check him out for you, though, kiddo.”

“Check him out for yourself.”

Annie turned as she opened the door. “No way. The last thing I need in my life is a man.” Though the thought no longer made her stomach queasy, it’d be a cold day in hell when she’d trust a guy again. Surveying the kitchen, she added, “I told the kids you’d make hot chocolate.”

“Mommy’s favorite,” Faith commented idly.

As well as Beth’s and Margo’s. Annie smiled at the thought. “Lock up and put the alarm on. It’s getting dark.”

Long ago, she’d accepted the fact that she might never feel completely safe, but, with the necessary precautions, she could live with that. Smiling, she stepped out into the cool night air.

o0o

JOE Murphy sat in his brand-new Bronco, staring at the Social Services building, his new place of employment, starting in a couple of minutes. A compact little brick structure, it was attached to the town hall and new to Glen Oaks in the last six years. Nestled across the street was the high school, which brought back bad memories.

Better get used to it, buddy. The reminders are going to be popping up at you like jack-in-the-boxes.

But he could handle it. He could handle anything. Once you’d lost all you had, once you’d hit bottom hard enough to knock some sense into your head—and survived—you could handle whatever came your way. That lesson was one of the many things he’d learned in the years since he’d hopped a bus out of this town on a snowy February night, the reality of what he’d become slapping him in the face harder than the cold raw wind.

You’re not that man anymore.

No, he wasn’t. But sometimes he’d wake up sweating in the middle of the night, worried that monster still lurked inside of him, like Hyde to Jekyll, and someday would claw his way out.

“You can beat Hyde, if indeed it’s true,” Pete, his counselor in the recovery program, had said. “You’re one of the strongest men I know, Joe.”

Strong enough to face Glen Oaks tonight? Strong enough to face Annie? Linc?

Yes.

Grabbing his briefcase from the seat behind him, along with his tweed sports coat, Joe exited his car, donned the jacket and took a deep breath. But setting foot on Glen Oaks soil again caused another spurt of anxiety to race through him. What if this wasn’t the right way to reenter? Should he have let them know he was moving back here?

Pete had asked him the same question. As Joe strode up the sidewalk and approached the door, he soothed his nerves by recounting why he’d opted for his return to be a surprise....

“I’m going back to see Matt. If I let them know I’m coming, Annie could take him somewhere, keep him from me. Even get a restraining order. But if I take this job, publicly show her I’ve changed, she might reconsider doing anything hasty. Also, if I’m established in a respected position, she might not be able to keep him away from me.”

Pete had scowled. “Sounds risky to me.”

“All that matters is I get to see my son.”

“Your health and happiness matter, too, Joe.”

“I need to see my son. To...make sure he doesn’t end up like me. You know the statistics.”

Pete had nodded then, and wished him luck....

Slowly, Joe pushed open the heavy aluminum door to the agency. In his head, he enumerated who would be there tonight. The new high school principal, Sandra Summers. A police lieutenant named Mike Pratt. A probation officer, Jim Tacone. There was a secretary, Jane Meachum, to take notes. Then five people he knew, Mayor Al Hunsinger, Roman Becker, attorney-at-law, and retired teacher Janice Breed. Of course, his former best friend, Linc Grayson, whose brainchild this Council had been.

And, last, his ex-wife, Annie Lang. She’d dropped his name with the divorce.

Taking in another cleansing breath when he reached the meeting-room door, he stepped inside. The area was about fifteen foot square, wallpapered with muted colors. The scent of strong coffee dominated the room. Carpet covered the floor. Two people were sitting down at a rectangular oak conference table. Four others were gathered by a coffeepot, chatting. Two more were off to the side in intimate conversation. It was those two who drew him like a lodestone. But he couldn’t focus on them just yet.

Scanning the group, pasting on a smile full of false bravado, Joe said, “Hi, everybody. Sorry I’m late. There was heavy traffic coming out from the city.”

Eight heads turned toward him.

Don’t look at her

A tall, balding man rose. He approached Joe. “I’m Al Hunsinger.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Hunsinger.”

The man cocked his head. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

Here goes.
“It’s because I grew up here, but I left town six years ago. I’m Joe Murphy.”

A small gasp drew everybody’s attention, including Joe’s. His ex-wife—all compact five feet of her—had frozen like a trapped animal. Next to her, his ex–best friend gripped her arm.

Linc hadn’t changed much. He was still stocky and muscular and had the irrefutable aura of a gangster. Of an Outlaw. It was Annie who looked different. She was still as slender as she’d been six years before, with the long muscles and lean lines of a dancer. But all that glorious hair was gone.

A memory assaulted him. Pete had told him to be prepared for these ambushes.
Over my dead body you’ll cut your hair. Now get over here and shut up.

He nodded to her.

With grim resolve, he scanned the others. “I know some of you,” he said with a smile that cost him. “I’m sure my presence here is a surprise to you, but I’ve been working in the Youth Division of Social Services in New York for a while now, and I asked to be sent to Glen Oaks.” He gave them a self-effacing grin. “You’re probably surprised to see me in this role, so if you want to get coffee and take a seat, I’ll pass out my résumé. You’ll be able to tell that I’m fully qualified to be Director of Social Services here. I’m confident I can facilitate this worthwhile committee, and I hope you’ll accept me for who I’ve become.”

Several people got up to get coffee; all of them shot concerned looks at Annie and Linc, who remained rooted to the spot by the window.

Joe set his briefcase down on the table, took out copies of his résumé, shook hands with the still slick-looking Roman Becker, the Council’s lawyer, and with the probation officer with the tired eyes. The secretary, Jane Meachum, was a pretty, innocent type, who gave him a shy smile. Then he distributed the papers to the six people near him, introducing himself and shaking hands as he went along.

His heart beating like a drum, he forced himself to head for the window.
Remember the plan. If you could recover, you can do this.
Too soon, he stood in front of them.

Linc’s arm slid around Annie’s shoulders. God, she was so little Joe had to keep himself from wincing. He topped her by a foot, and had close to a hundred pounds on her.

She’d never stood a chance against him.

Viciously pushing the thought away, Joe looked her straight in the eye. “Hello, Annie.” He glanced to her left. “Linc.”

Annie straightened and moved away from Linc. Her warm amber eyes were frosty, and her mouth a grim slash in that beautiful porcelain-skinned face. “Joe.” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was strong. He was glad she’d gotten some backbone.

“I came home, Annie. I want to see my son.”

Her gaze flew to Linc’s, panicky. Before they could say any more, Joe added, “I hope you two will look at my résumé. I think it’ll help to calm your fears.” He shrugged. “It’ll be a start, anyway.”

Annie shook her head.

Though he’d expected this, it still made his heart trip in his chest. “Linc, will you try to convince Annie to give me a chance? I’m back to stay, and I promise I won’t do anything to hurt anybody. But I want to see my son.” He handed them his résumé. “Read this.”

With that he turned and walked back to the table. He could feel their eyes bore into him, could still see the traces of fear in Annie’s. Rightly so.

Unbidden, the ghosts came. The last time he’d seen Linc, they’d been in a shadowy waiting room at Glen Oaks Hospital, where Annie was having a miscarriage. His friend’s face had been mottled red, his voice condemning as he grabbed Joe by the collar and yelled,
Get the hell out of Glen Oaks and never come back.

The last time Joe had seen Annie, she’d been on the floor of their apartment, her lip split, her shoulder dislocated, and cradling her abdomen protectively, she’d pleaded,
Don’t kick me again, Joey, I’m pregnant.

o0o

FORCING her hands not to shake—she had control here, if she took it—Annie stared woodenly at the papers in her hands. Still by the window, she read the résumé.

Education: Three years at NYU in an accelerated Social Services program. Graduated 2000. Two years in a Masters of Social Work program, graduating Magna Cum Laude in 2002. Pursuing a doctorate in Clinical Psychology at Columbia University.

Work experience: Interned summers, vacations and weekends at: Forty-Fifth Street Youth Services, VOA Children’s Center, Catholic Family Center for Troubled Youth. Spearheaded Times Square Save-the-Kids Project

Employment: Center for Family Services, 2001 to present. Runs support groups for Children of Alcoholics, Children of Batterers, Recovered Batterers.

The last stopped her, like walking into a wall in the dark. Disoriented, she couldn’t take the whole thing in. It had to be a bad dream that she’d awakened from. But like all those other times, her contact with Joe Murphy was an all-too-real nightmare, and needed to be dealt with.

So, fine, deal with it.
He might be back, but that didn’t mean he’d get access to the kids.

Kids.

Oh, no. He’d spoken only of Matt. Didn’t he realize...

Her thoughts were interrupted by his clear, controlled voice. “Now that you’ve had time to peruse my credentials, perhaps you could come to the table and we’ll talk about this Friday’s Council meeting.” Absently she noted how different his vocabulary and even his speech patterns were.

Nudging Annie, Linc said, “Come on, kid, we can do this.”

She leaned on his shoulder for a moment, taking comfort in the strong, muscled feel of him. Then she crossed the room and took a seat at the opposite end of the table from her ex-husband.

“Can we ask some questions first, Joe, before we start talking about the newest case?” This from Janice Breed.

Joe grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Breed. I just hope I can answer them better than I could in your English class.”

Some of the tension was broken by his levity.

“Are you permanently assigned here?”

“It’s still up in the air. Mamie Smith has a year’s maternity leave, so I’ll be in this job for at least that long. But honestly, I’d like to move back to Glen Oaks permanently.”

Annie’s insides turned cold. She’d read stats on batterers. Relapse, when thrown into the old situation, was high.

He spoke again, and smiled, calling attention to those dimples she’d once loved. For the first time, she allowed herself to take in his appearance. Though he was only in his late thirties, he’d aged dramatically. His dark hair had turned salt and pepper. He’d donned wire-rimmed glasses, accenting the lines around his eyes. His clothes were neatly tailored—a gray blazer under which he wore a pristine white shirt and tie, with black slacks. She shivered as she glanced at his hands. They were big, still capable of great pain, even though they were bordered by starched cuffs now. Expensive dress for someone who had worked in Social Services.

She recalled the large child support check she received every month. Where did he get his money? Drugs? Though they’d done pot when they were young, they’d quit in their twenties. He drank like a fish then, but never touched anything else.