Trust in Me (34 page)

Not angry, just confused, she cocked her head. “Because of my father?”

He chuckled. “Your daddy’s the furthest thing from my mind right now, sugar.”

Jane sighed. “You have a Gatsby quality about you, you know that? Like you’ve lost the great love of your life.”

Looking her in the eye, he said honestly, “I have.” He rubbed her shoulders. “But contrary to good old Jay, I don’t want to pine my life away for her.”

“What do you want, Linc?”

“A wife and family and a normal life.”
Like I never had.

Her smile was sunshine bright; he didn’t understand why it caused him pinpricks of pain. “All right, let’s take it slow.”

Smiling falsely—he wondered if dissembling was a sin—he asked, “How about some pizza and...some music?”

“You’re on, good Reverend.”

Hmmm, who would have thought the good Reverend had a kinky streak?

Damn it, Margo,
he thought, heading for the phone to call the pizza place.
Get out of my mind.

Miraculously, she did. By ten o’clock, he and Jane had devoured a Pizza Supreme with everything on it, two beers each and he was showing her how to do
The Stroll
from the sixties.

She’d taken off her jacket and shoes and leaned against the back of the couch. “Really. Linc, that’s so...dumb.”

“Come here, woman, and try it.” He was having fun.

She pushed off from the sofa just as the phone rang. He groaned. She angled her head. “Shall I screen it? I got pretty good doing that for my dad.”

Hell, he was only human. Winking at her, he shrugged. “Give it a try.”

“Hello,” she said sweetly when she picked up the receiver. Linc saw her frown. “Um, yes, Reverend Grayson’s here. Who’s calling?” Another hesitation. Then she chuckled. Covering the mouthpiece, she said, “The woman says she’s Ma Barker. That’s a new one.”

All the air and good humor and sexual interest in Jane drained out of him. He took the phone. “Turn that down, will you?” he said to her and then into the receiver, “Hello, Margo.”

“Well, it sounds like Jesse James is having himself a grand old time.” Her words were meant to tease, but her tone was raw.

After lowering the music, Jane sat demurely on the couch, and crossed her pretty legs.

“Um, I am. How are
you
?”

“Just peachy.”

“Hold on a sec.” He covered the mouthpiece, said to Jane, “Sorry, be right back,” and headed for the bedroom. Once there he closed the door and flopped on the bed. “Margo.”

“What?” She sounded sulky.

“What’s going on?”

Silence.

“You’re upset.”

And even longer silence.

“Margo? Talk to me.”

“Have you screwed her?”

“Oh, honey, that’s beneath you.”

A very long pause. “I’m sorry. It kills me to think of you touching her.”

“This isn’t helping anything, love.”

A longer silence. “Is she why you haven’t called?”

“No.”

“Is what happened two weeks ago why?”

“Yes.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to that.”

“Margo—”

“Listen, never mind. Go back to your girlfriend. She’s good for you. Forget I called.” Before she hung up she whispered, “Forget about
me
.”

The phone went dead. The annoying
beep beep beep
drummed in his head. Finally, he said into the mouthpiece, “I wish I could.”

o0o

ANNIE and Rosa settled in the living room alone, sipping some tea. They’d gone to Porky’s Ice Cream Shoppe with Linc, Jane, the Donovans and the Murphys, and then had come back here. Their daughters had just retreated to Faith’s room. It was getting late, and Matt and Tommy, who had gotten ice cream with the team, would be home momentarily. This was Annie’s first opportunity to talk to Rosa alone.

Not that Annie was anxious to explain about Joe. What could she say without sounding trite, or worse, betraying?
Yeah, he beat me up, but he’s better now. It’s not like you and Sam.
Lord, would Annie’s situation with Joe cause Rosa to not seek help?

“Rosa, I need to tell you something.”

The woman’s kind blue eyes held a question. “Something’s been wrong all night, hasn’t it?”

“Not wrong exactly.”

“You acted funny about the boys’ coach.”

Silently Annie thanked God for the opening. “I know. I was afraid he was going to fight with the umpire about the bad call against Matt.”

“Why? He seems like a nice man.”

“I know he does. And maybe he is. Now.”

“Now?”

“Rosa, do you know Coach’s last name?”

“Yes, it’s Murphy. I read all the information on the sheet.”

“He’s Matt’s father.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Matt’s name isn’t Lang, like yours?”

“No, Lang is my maiden name.”

“Are you saying Joe Murphy is...he’s your...”Reflexively the woman grasped her waist. “Oh, no, Annie, he’s the one that...”

Annie grappled for courage. Rosa might not be able to say the words aloud, but Annie could. “He’s the one that beat me up.”

“But he’s so nice. I’ve talked to him a couple of times.”

“I know. And maybe it’s real. Joe claims he’s a recovered batterer.”

“What’s that?”

Taking in a deep breath, Annie explained the term and also Joe’s long years of therapy. Though she might be betraying confidences, she wouldn’t let all Linc’s work with Rosa, and how far the woman had come in two weeks, go to waste. More important, she couldn’t let Rosa’s plan to seek help go by the wayside.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rosa told her after Annie finished the story.

Annie leaned over the coffee table separating them. “I told you this story so that you don’t think Sam’s going to miraculously change. If Joe
has
changed, he managed it with a lot of counseling and hard work. And it took years.”

Rosa stared at her mutely.

“Do you understand, Rosa? Sam won’t change unless he gets a lot of help.”

Before Rosa could answer, there was a commotion in the kitchen. Joe and Matt and Tommy trundled into the living room.

“... really good, Tom.” Joe’s low voice was a pleasant rumble.

“My dad helped me with hitting, Tommy. And see what I did?”

“Will you work on the catching with me, Coach?”

“Hello, everybody.” Though Annie was disturbed by the bad timing, her greeting was pleasant.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Ma.”

“Hi, Annie.” Joe’s face held the flush of victory and a deep sense of contentment. He looked younger, less weary. He smiled at Rosa. “Mrs. DeMartino.”

Rosa froze. Stared at Joe. Christian woman though she was, she couldn’t keep the look of contempt from her face. Then, automatically, she sidled back in her chair.

At her expression, and silence, Joe also stilled. His face drained of color. He studied Rosa, then he shot a look at Annie. She was stunned by the pain in his eyes, the bleakness.

For the very first time since he’d walked out of her life, five years and ten months ago, she felt sorry for him.

o0o

HE had to escape. Before his face cracked. Before his shoulders, brittle and unyielding, slumped with the weight of his guilt. He was bruised from the inside out and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

But he couldn’t flee. As he went through the motions of saying good night to his kids, and ended up reading a short passage from the sayings book to Faith, he forced himself to deal with reality.

“Read me what
face the music
means, Daddy.”

Ah, irony.

Joe cleared his throat. “When old-time soldiers were dismissed from the army for bad behavior, they were often made to march slowly between the ranks of former comrades. Drums and other instruments marked their time. Meeting the unpleasant head-on came to be known as
facing the music
.”

So, Murphy, he told himself as he stared at the book,
face the music
. Annie had obviously told Rosa DeMartino about him. And he didn’t have to stretch far to guess why. He’d processed Rosa’s forms for counseling himself, and though no specifics were given, she’d asked for Carol Lopez, who was a domestic violence counselor. It didn’t take Einstein to figure out the rest.

Rosa was an abused spouse.

And Joe was the enemy. That Annie had told her about him was no more than he deserved, but it knifed him inside.

“You okay, Daddy?” Faith asked as she cuddled into him on her canopied bed.

“Just fine, princess.”

“You look sad. Like Mommy used to all the time.”

One more nail in the coffin. “No, I’m not sad. Daddy’s just...
pooped
.”

Faith giggled. “Oh, Daddy.”

That had been one of the first phrases she’d wanted to know the origin of. She’d been gravely disappointed to learn it had to deal with the winds at sea battering a boat’s poop deck on long voyages, not the bathroom habits of humans or animals.

Closing the book, he stood and bent over the bed. He kissed her on the cheek and pulled up the covers. “Sleep tight.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Robotically, he left her room. Matt’s door was ajar. Joe stifled his need to escape, to lick his wounds somewhere, and crossed the hall to knock on his son’s door.

“Come in.”

Matt sprawled on his bed, tossing up a baseball and catching it in his glove. His whole posture was relaxed. His welcoming smile warmed Joe. “You leaving?”

“Uh-huh.”

Matt grinned broadly. “It was a great game.”

Joe gave a good attempt at returning the smile. Though it wasn’t a thousand-watt, it seemed to pass. “Yeah, it was.” He scanned the room. “Ready for bed?”

“I have to do my math first.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you for practice tomorrow.” Joe turned to leave.

“Dad?”

Pivoting back around, Joe faced him. “Hmm?”

“I was real proud of you, tonight.”

Joe swallowed back the lump in his throat. He’d never, ever thought to hear this from Matt’s mouth. “I was proud of you, too, son. See you tomorrow.”

Outside the door, Joe leaned against it wearily and drew in a deep breath.

Three steps forward, two back.
Pete had said it often enough.
Concentrate on the forward motion.

With that in mind, Joe headed for the stairs. The light was on under Annie’s door. Well, he thought as he jogged down the steps, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with her. His feelings were a jumbled mass of contradictions, and he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable in front of her. He’d just made it to the front door when he heard from the semi-dark living room, “Joe?”

His hand on the doorknob, he stilled. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice, for once, held no recrimination. Its softness, its...kindness was almost worse because it accented what he’d once had and stupidly thrown away.

“Now’s not a good time, Annie.”

She hesitated. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

“I have no right to be hurt.” He had no rights at all.

Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself
, Pete had told him a thousand times.
It’s counterproductive.

“Still, you are.”

Joe shook his head. God, he just wanted to leave. To be alone to figure out how to handle his feelings. But whereas the old Joe might have run and hid, the new Joe didn’t. He’d deal with this up front, then get out of here. Circling around, he stuck his hands in his shorts pockets and looked at his wife.

She’d left a small light on in the corner of the room. It cast her in a surreal glow. She was so petite, yet tonight she seemed strong and sure of herself. Her jeans made her legs look longer, and he knew the power of the muscle underneath the denim. Her slender shoulders were squared in the navy sweatshirt she wore. Her face was calm. “I didn’t go broadcasting...it.”

The memory of
it
made him sick, but he forced himself to say, “You didn’t?”

“No. I can’t go into detail about Rosa, but—”

He interrupted her. “You don’t have to.”

She cocked her head.

“I see all the client applications at work. I put two and two together.” He scanned the living room, focusing on the pictures of his kids. “I just didn’t know you had any connection with her.”

“It’s complicated why. We’ve become friends.” She bit her lip. “I told her about my past to help her.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“She didn’t make the connection with her son’s coach because of the last name thing.”

“Until tonight.”

Annie nodded.

He struggled not to sound whiny. “It’s nothing I don’t deserve. I’m surprised the whole town didn’t find out years ago.”

“I kept it quiet for the kids.”

“Yes, Suzie told me that.”

“I’m sorry if Rosa finding out hurt you.”

He shook his head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one...” More images, dark and dirty, filled his mind. The man he used to be rose up out of the scum and roared full-blast in his head. “Look, I need to go. I’m feeling raw. None of this is your fault. It’s all mine.” He circled around and grabbed for the door handle. It turned, but wouldn’t open. He blinked hard. Fumbled with the lock. He’d just released the catch when he felt a hand on his arm. It was the first time she’d touched him since he’d come back to Glen Oaks.

That did it. He slumped forward. Lay his forehead against the glass pane.

Annie spoke. “I know you say you’ve changed. It looks like it’s true.” She hesitated. “I want it to be true.”

Still he said nothing. He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep back the emotion battling to get out.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Joe.”

Oh God, after how he’d hurt her... Hunching his shoulders, he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the wetness there. Then he drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders and nodded. Reaching for the door, he opened it.

She let go.

Without turning around, he stepped out into the now-dark night. The air was brisk on his bare legs, and a slight breeze cooled his cheeks.

Quickly he descended the steps.