Trust in Me (23 page)

o0o

SARA Fox had saved Annie’s sanity six years before. At that time, the therapist had worked in Glen Oaks’s social services office, but in the intervening years, she’d moved on to a private practice in the city. Now, she saw patients in a small town house on the Upper West Side near Lincoln Center. After two years of intensive counseling, Annie had never expected to need her again. They sat in her living room, with hardwood floors, teak furniture and beautiful artwork on the walls; Annie filled her in on the recent turn of events.

“Well!” Sara arched thick eyebrows into curly bangs. Her pretty blue eyes were full of surprise and sympathy. “This is unexpected.”

Annie tucked her feet under her in the comfortable leather chair. She’d come right from work and made the hour train ride in a sweater and long denim skirt thrown over her tights and leotard. “I was shocked when he walked into that room for the Council meeting. And angry at his surprising me.”

“His reason for doing that is clear, Annie. And pretty good planning on his part. He’s obviously got all his ducks in a row.”

The familiar resentment when one of her friends sided with Joe burned like a low flame in her stomach. “It worked.”

“I can tell you’re angry.”

“I’m furious.”

“Tell me at what, specifically.”

“For one, he’s slowly converting everybody to thinking he’s a great guy—Linc, Beth, Faith, of course, maybe even Matt.”

“And you don’t want that.” When Annie started to speak, Sara held up a palm. “No, think about it for a minute. Do you want Joe to have changed?”

God, she’d never allowed herself to get this far in her thought process. She pictured Ronny and how things were going so much better for him since his meetings with Joe. She witnessed the attention and patience he showed Faith. She thought of her son studying
The Things We Say.

“In the long run,” Annie said, rubbing her ring finger where his wedding band had once rested, “I have to, don’t I? He’s my kids’ father. If he’s really changed and can be a part of their lives, I have to want it.”

“Let’s talk about what you’re really feeling, besides anger.”

She thought for a moment. “Fear.”

“Of?”

Coldness invaded Annie’s stomach, streaked through her limbs and settled in her heart. It happened every time she thought about Joe hitting her. “I still remember what it felt like when he hit me.”

“And you think he’s going to hit you again?”

She pictured Joe tying Faith’s ballet slipper so she could show him a new dance she’d learned. She saw him hug his son, even when Matt stiffened up on him. “I don’t know. He seems to be gentler now, calmer.”

“Batterers Recovery Programs work, in the right circumstances. Did he get more therapy in the years after that ended and before he came home?”

“Yes.”

“Good reasons to think he’s changed.” She smiled. “And Annie, you’re not defenseless anymore. Physically or emotionally. You’ve got all those self-defense courses behind you, but more so, battered women allow the abuse for emotional reasons. You’re not the girl who took it once.”

“So what are you saying?”

“He won’t hurt you again. Not just because he doesn’t want to, but because you won’t let him.”

“What about the kids?”

“Did he ever hit Matt?”

“You know he didn’t.”

“Matt’s almost twelve now. A big boy. And he’s had karate training. I don’t think your son’s in danger.”

“Are you saying I should let him see the kids alone?”

“No, I’m saying you have a lot less to fear than you think. If you could get rid of the fear, the anger might go away and you could see things more clearly.”

Annie just stared at her.

“Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Are you having feelings for him?”

“No, of course not.” Annie bolted out of the chair and began to pace. It wasn’t until she caught the knowing look in Sara’s eyes that she realized her reaction was a big tip-off to her true emotions. She stopped and stared at the counselor. “I can’t have feelings for him after what he did.”

“An abused wife’s profile contradicts that. She really does love the man who abuses her. Mostly, she just wants him to change.”

“I don’t love Joe Murphy.”

“You loved him since you were thirteen. It’s not an easy thing to overcome.” Sara cocked her head. “And you can still be attracted to him.”

Annie remembered how he’d looked modeling the underwear. He was taut and firm and beautifully proportioned. As a dancer, she could appreciate the near perfection of his body. “Even if that’s true, I can’t imagine letting him near me.”

“Because of the rape.”

The word swamped her. She was back in that bedroom, totally helpless, totally at his mercy. She’d never told anybody but Sara about it, not even Beth or Margo. “Yes.”

 “I’m not recommending you have a relationship with your ex-husband, Annie. I’m just saying that Linc’s right in some ways. You’ve got to let go of the anger, for your own sake as well as Matt’s.”

“And how do I do that?” Joe’s handsome features, contorted in a mask of rage as he forced her to have sex that last time, made Sara’s recommendation seem impossible.

“The first step is to decide you want to let go of it.”

Annie’s shoulders slumped. Did she want to let go of it? The anger took so much energy. The resentment ate away inside her at night, after Joe’s visits. And in church, on Sundays, she felt estranged from God.

“I guess I’d like to let go of it. I just don’t know how.”

“Let’s brainstorm some strategies, shall we?” Sara smiled. “And for the record, I think that’s the right thing to do.”

Chapter 13

BE careful what you wish for,” Beth mumbled as she assembled the last of the order for the big powwow taking place in her diner. She’d anxiously awaited the opening of the track, even for qualifying and other preseason events, because it meant business would really pick up. Placing parsley sprigs on a western omelet, she was grateful for the added business, topped off by the official meeting Mayor Hunsinger had scheduled to have here over breakfast today.

She just hadn’t known it was to discuss the publicity for Tucker’s exhibition race in the fall. Tucker, who sat stone-faced, glaring at Doc who apparently—she overhead this—had not told him the meeting was at her diner. Tucker, who was obviously avoiding her, and whom she’d likewise avoided, the past two weeks.

Ever since Ronny’s interrogation.
He’s hitting on you, Mom...He looked at you like Linc looks at Margo...

“Frittata’s ready.” Gerty raised her eyes from the stove. “Lordy, girl, is it letting up out there at all?”

“A bit from the breakfast crowd.” Beth glanced at the clock. “But lunch’ll start soon. I’m sorry about this, Gerty.”

“Not your fault Nana got sick. Then Milt and Nancy,” her two part-timers, “got in that fender bender on the way to work.”

“I’m just glad they’re all right.”

 “Are you holding up?”

Knotting the towel tighter around her waist, she straightened her pink blouse and hefted the tray onto her shoulder. “I’m fine.”

Only she wasn’t. As she headed to the tables set up for ten, she prayed her hand didn’t tremble like when she’d taken Tucker’s order. He was dressed in a forest green sweater and tan Dockers that looked like a million bucks on him. When she’d bent over to take his order, the masculine smell of aftershave had zinged right through to her toes. She’d noticed a cut he’d gotten from shaving near his ear and she’d had the absurd urge to touch it. Chiding herself for her feelings, she reached the back of the diner.

At the table—Tucker sat facing Danny’s picture and she’d caught him staring at it a few times—she set the heavy tray down on a serving stand. “It’s here,” she announced to the group. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Not to worry, little lady.” The mayor nodded to the group. “We’ve been making plans.”

She gave them a weak smile. As she’d filled coffee mugs, she’d overheard those plans—and Tucker’s stoic reaction to them. Publicity shots with him in the racing suit he’d worn when he’d won the Daytona 500...pictures of him around Glen Oaks...shots showing the
sexy race car driver relaxing in the Big Apple
.

The last had come from Tara Snow, the shapely blonde from an advertising agency in New York, who was in charge of the PR.

And who had her hands all over Tucker.

She’d touched his arm as she’d outlined her strategy. Her vampire-red fingernails had scraped down his shoulders as she’d made a point of how he looked in his racing suit. She’d giggled breathily as she’d leaned over to say something in his ear.

Beth tried not to react when she delivered the woman’s order—an egg-white omelet that Gerty had had to fuss over. Just at that moment, Tara reached out and squeezed Tucker’s big masculine hand. “Pass the salt please, Tuck.”

Beth served his frittata next.

“Looks good,” he said, eyeing it appreciatively.

“I’m sorry service is so slow.”

“You should hire more help, dear.” Tara smiled at her sweetly. “This place will be hopping from now until the race.”

Tucker threw Tara an annoyed look. “Beth told us she was short three people this morning.” He gave Beth a grin full of warm Southern honey, and her heart turned over. “You’re workin’ miracles by yourself out here.”

“Gerty doin’ okay out in the kitchen?” Doc asked.

“She’s keeping up.”

Doc scowled. “I hope her back’s okay.” Gerty had thrown her back out the week before, but Beth wondered how Doc knew about it.

She smiled at him. “She went to some Chinese masseuse in the city and he cured her.”

Doc rolled his eyes. “Damn fool woman.”

“Beth, could you cash us out?” a customer called from the front.

“Excuse me.” She placed the last plate in front of Doc and hurried away.

At the counter, she tried hard to keep her gaze away from Tucker. But business slowed enough for her to get a cup of coffee, and her eyes wandered to him as she sipped it.

She’d successfully stayed away from him. Because, Sunday morning in church, she’d admitted Ronny was right. She’d seen the spark of interest in Tucker’s green eyes when he looked at her. And she was attracted to him. Of all the things that could have happened when he came back to town, this was the worst, and most unexpected.

She was attracted to a man who, along with many people in town, thought that he’d killed her husband. To a man who Ron thought had killed his father. How the
hell
had it happened? They hadn’t been together that much. But they’d made connections when they
had
been in each other’s company. She remembered talking to him at the police station, crying on his shoulder the night she took Ronny to jail, standing up to Julia and Carl with him. Or maybe it was just plain old chemistry. Who knew?

She told herself that at least Ronny had seemed happier in the last two weeks. And Doc had said he’d been nicer to Tucker. They were even working on the car together.

When Roman Becker came in and sat at the counter, she welcomed the distraction. “Hi, Roman.”

“Morning, Beth.” His thick black hair was slicked off his face as if he’d just showered, accenting his chiseled features. He always reminded her of a young Laurence Olivier. He was only a few feet away from Tucker. Her gaze strayed past Roman to those linebacker shoulders that she’d read had given Tucker trouble getting out of race cars.

“Busy today?”

“Uh-huh.” She explained her situation.

“You work too hard.” He reached out to squeeze her hand. Just as Tucker drew back his seat, stood and turned.

His gaze fell on their clasped hands. His eyes darkened. He nodded to Roman, didn’t look at her and headed to the bathrooms.

“What’s the matter with The Menace?” Roman asked.

She drew her hand away and indicated the back tables.

“That’s a meeting with the brass. He hates the publicity part.”

“Are you kidding? The babes hang all over him.”

Beth had seen some pictures of Tucker and the racing groupies. Though the married race car drivers often brought their wives on the circuit, and many had RV’s they stayed in, the single drivers were pursued like rock stars. She couldn’t think about it. She was almost grateful when the lunch crowd started to file in.

Tired though she was, she’d preferred working herself to exhaustion to watching Tara Snow fall all over Tucker.

o0o

TUCKER couldn’t keep his eyes off of Beth. She was a rare and precious cameo next to the glare of costume jewelry like Tara Snow. As they all stood to leave, Beth circled the counter to grab a big gray tub. Scanning the diner, he saw people waiting by the door and several tables in need of clearing.

“Where’s Doc?” the mayor asked.

“He went to the kitchen. He’s friends with the cook.” Tucker suspected Doc was out there helping Gerty get the food out.

Tara Snow shook back her mane of streaked blond hair with supermodel style. “We don’t need him anyway.” She batted heavily made-up eyelashes at Tucker. “We’re done now, Tucker. Want to show me around town?”

“Sorry,” Tucker lied. “Doc and I have an appointment.”

She pouted her rouged lips. “You have to spend all of next Monday with me, remember? I’m coming back for the photo shoot of you and the town.”

“Sure.”

Tara scanned the diner, noted Beth working like a demon to clear the tables, and took in the crowd impatiently standing at the door. “I do hope they get their act together here before the onslaught descends on them for the race.”

Tucker said nothing, though he took her criticism personally. For Beth. Who he’d avoided for two weeks. He’d managed to be upstairs or out in the garage most of the time when she dropped off Ron or came to pick him up. And when he
had
seen her, he was remote. Once, though, he’d literally bumped into her coming out of the office as he headed to the kitchen, and had grabbed her arms to steady her. She’d felt strong and solid under his hands and he experienced a longing so deep it made his knees weak. She’d been as skittish as a newborn colt that night, and he knew why.