The Price He Paid

by Jean Brashear

  And then there were the thirty days Miss Margaret had asked of her. Many people will suffer if you don’t accept this.

  Callie wheeled away from the window without acknowledging Jessie Lee’s presence. She prowled through the small house, feeling Miss Margaret in every room.

  He did stuff for her, too. Miss Margaret would want you to help him.

  The welcome mat had been yanked away in Philly, at least for the time being. A fix for her situation there was out of her hands. Meanwhile there were people here in Oak Hollow who did need her, whose futures depended upon her actions. She could serve out her thirty days, working hard and, at the end of it, be closer to fulfilling her duty to Miss Margaret. Her great-aunt had actually given Callie a break with her bequest; Callie wouldn’t get rich off the rents and mortgage payments in this out-of-the-way burg, but the income, managed right, could buy her some options. Of course she would still return and fight for her job—

  But she would have a cushion while she tackled it.

  Then there was David. Doing right by him was something positive, something to sink her teeth into, and she was all about action, not standing around.

  She had indeed played the pivotal role in wrecking his carefully laid plans for his life, and she owed him. She couldn’t change the past, but she could free him now and make a sizable down payment on her debt to him. Whatever he’d been guilty of in the past, he wasn’t guilty this time, she was almost certain. She’d need his help in proving it, though, and he wasn’t cooperating.

  The question was, why?

  She needed some means to compel him to participate, some way to convince him that all hope wasn’t lost. Until the last case, she’d had one hell of a track record as a prosecutor, so who would understand better how to find the weaknesses in the case against him?

  A solution hit her just then.

  She would post his bail. Once outside of a cell again, he would savor the freedom, would regain hope, would open up. He’d see that she was on his side, would understand just how good she was. She knew how to win, and she’d win for him.

  And if she proved something to others back in Philly, too, well that would be a bonus.

  Energized by at last having a direction, Callie left to set her plan in motion.

  “What did you say?” David blinked at the guard who’d come for him.

  “You’re out on bail. Get your ass in gear. Your mother’s waiting for you.”

  “My mother?” Where would she come up with the money? How had she gotten to the county seat, for that matter? She hardly ventured from the house. The only asset she owned besides her worthless car was her home. If she’d pledged that…

  He managed to keep a lid on the agitation brewing inside as they processed him out with painful slowness, but every second was agonizing. He cast about in his mind for a solution, but he didn’t think there was any way to undo the damage. The bitter knowledge that his mother had jeopardized her only security for him ate at him like acid.

  When at last he was released through the final door, he was too worked up to dare say anything. With grim focus, he accepted his mother’s hug, then hurried to escort her outside. When she handed him the keys to the car, he stared at the ground until he could wrestle his feelings under control.

  “Let’s go home, son.”

  He lost the battle. “Why did you interfere? Why would you use the house as collateral? You know they’re going to put me away, and I’ve been trying to save you—” Barely did he clamp off the torrent that wanted to spill.

  Frail as she was, she stood against the hurricane. “Drive me home, David. We’ll talk after you’ve rested.”

  “After—” He looked away. Counted to ten. Twenty. “Mom, I appreciate that you want to help, but I told you—”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  He was reminded of the woman who’d had the strength to raise him, who, until Ned Compton, had been the oak that had sheltered him during his childhood.

  He hadn’t seen that woman in a very long time. Thought she’d ceased to exist.

  He shook his head. Opened her door and settled her inside, then rounded the car. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, and he was barely rational. Better to save any discussion for later, just as she’d suggested.

  He started the engine, registering just for a second the miracle of being able to drive away when he’d expected to be caged again for a very long time.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you meant well.”

  She patted his hand but remained silent.

  He drove them home. Or what would be home for a little while longer.

  The pounding on the door startled Callie, though it shouldn’t have. A glimpse toward the front porch confirmed what she’d been expecting.

  It was David. And he was furious.

  She straightened her shoulders and crossed to the entrance. “Hello, David.”

  He yanked the screen door open and stepped inside, his powerful presence filling the room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Apparently he hadn’t managed to get any rest once he’d arrived home. His face was shadowed with fatigue, but his eyes were flashing, his generous mouth thinned with resentment.

  “I posted your bail,” she answered calmly. “As you no doubt know, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I told you to leave me alone.”

  “Actually, I believe your exact words were I don’t want you here.”

  “Don’t get cute.” His brows snapped together. “Why are you meddling in my life?”

  “You’re not doing such a hot job on your own, now, are you?” She didn’t wait for a response. “You need me, and I have a proposition.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Explain that.”

  “Would you like some sweet tea? It’s warm today. Come on to the kitchen.”

  He didn’t budge. “Cut the crap, Callie. Tell me what you’re after.”

  “Are you always so suspicious?” She pressed her lips together, regretting what was an absurd question. Why wouldn’t he be? “All right. You made it clear that you don’t want charity, and I’m not offering it. This is a simple business proposition.” She used every ounce of persuasion she’d cultivated performing in front of a jury to sell her ideas.

  “Go on.” For the moment at least, curiosity appeared to be edging past his fury.

  “I’m still going to convince you to let me clear you.”

  “You can try.” His expression was bleak, and it got to her. Life had taken a shining boy filled with ambition and dreams and had ground him down to a man who believed in nothing.

  “David—”

  “Get on with it.” A warning, every syllable grated out.

  She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look up from the floor, his shoulders tensed. Was he always braced against the next blow?

  She took the leap. “I need your help.”

  His head rose swiftly, his eyes alert for sarcasm.

  “Miss Margaret has dumped her whole life in my lap.”

  “Yeah, tough break, being given all that property.”

  She flushed. “I’ve never owned anything but a car. Never dealt with home repairs except to call the super.” She turned up her palms. “I need to understand what there is here, what’s needed.”

  “So call a contractor.”

  “I don’t know anyone. Have no idea who to trust.”

  “Don’t ask me—I’ve only been back a few months. Get Manning to give you some names.”

  “I don’t want names. I want you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because I trust you, David.”

  Even as his mouth twisted in a smirk, she caught a flash of vulnerability in his eyes. “Then you’re not very smart. Ask anyone. Hell, look at your own experience. How many ex-cons ever deserved to be trusted?”

  “They weren’t you.”

  “I clean toilets in a bar. That’s all I am.”

  Her heart twisted. “That’s not true,
and you know it. Anyway, Jessie Lee tells me you do repairs all the time for her grandmother. That you did them for Miss Margaret.” But pleas were obviously not making any headway. “I paid your bail, David.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “True, but it’s done, and your mother will sleep nights now that you’re out.” Dirty pool, but whatever worked. She pressed the point. “Will you help me in return? We can settle on a fair wage, and you can work off the debt.”

  “You expect me to work for you.” He gave a short bark of mirthless laughter.

  They were probably both thinking about the same thing, their reversals in fortune.

  “No. I want you to work for you. To help me free you.”

  “That’s not gonna happen. Don’t be a child. The deck is stacked, and you can’t fix it.”

  “I think I can. I’m good at what I do.”

  “You know I don’t want this.” His voice was low and guttural. “I told you to leave me alone.”

  Your mother begged me to save you, but she didn’t dare say that. She held on to her resolve. “Too late now.”

  Witnessing his struggle was like watching a magnificent wild creature fight his cage, and she found herself wavering. She wondered why she hadn’t considered that she’d be trapping him in a different manner which was maybe no less cruel than a prison.

  She nearly opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, though she couldn’t take back all that she’d done in her belief that she knew best what he needed.

  He spoke before she could. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

  But in his tone, she heard the edge of resentment, tinged with resignation. Maybe despair.

  He left with a slam of the screen door.

  With a heavy heart, she watched him go.

  Chapter Nine

  Callie sipped at her coffee as she stood in the back yard, watching a couple of birds fussing over the water in Miss Margaret’s birdbath. She’d been up since before dawn, unable to settle as she wondered how she and David could possibly work together. What had she been thinking? She didn’t know this man, and she’d gotten her life tangled up with his again, simply on the basis of a child’s assurance and a long-ago memory.

  Okay, that and the mystery of a wooden angel.

  Finding out more about the carving was last on her list of items to discuss now, though. She should stay as far away from the personal as possible. David clearly wished the same, and she operated better without emotion herself.

  Distance, that was the key. Professionalism.

  There was, however, the small matter of his freedom. Though Callie had no evidence to suggest that David would cooperate in his defense, that was no reason for her to give up. She was not a quitter and by the end of the day, she hoped to be on Capwell’s team, at least long enough to get the case on track. If she had to manage the defense herself, she would, even if it meant doing it long-distance. David might believe his case was hopeless, but she could not settle for doing less than everything in her power to clear him, if he were indeed innocent.

  Not that his attitude gave her any reason to have hope. Everyone deserved a solid defense, though. If David was guilty, then he should go back to prison. But if not…she had to try her best to clear him. He hadn’t hesitated to take her side all those years ago, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t return the favor.

  A flutter of wings drew her out of her preoccupation as the birds launched into the sky. Suddenly she heard a cat scream and another one growling.

  She nearly dropped her cup in her haste, but righted it before it fell off the porch rail. She charged toward some tall bushes at the edge of the garden, and rounded them. “Hey!”

  For a second, the two cats scattered, but then the black-and-white one pounced on the beat-up, scarred old yellow tom. The attacker was young and sleek and determined, it appeared, to ignore her presence.

  She wasn’t at all sure getting between them was smart, but there was something about the old cat that roused her sense of indignation. He seemed weak but was still trying to defend himself. When he bared his teeth, she could see that one of the long ones was missing.

  “Get out!” she yelled at the bully, who paid her no mind. Callie searched the ground and found a small limb that she hoped would be sturdy enough. She moved closer and jabbed at the aggressor. “Leave him alone!”

  He only turned and snarled, but at least he had let go of the old one.

  Emboldened, she stabbed again. “Go away. Shoo!”

  At last he scampered off, hissing his displeasure.

  She expected the other to run, too. He tried, but his left back leg wouldn’t cooperate. “Oh.” She started toward him.

  “Don’t.”

  She jolted as she recognized David’s voice behind her. Despite her resolutions, her heart did a slow somersault as she turned.

  She still couldn’t get over the metamorphosis from lanky boy to tall, muscular man. He had a presence about him that took up residence right beneath her skin, whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Why not?”

  “You have no idea what’s wrong with that animal. He might have rabies. He could attack you if you get too close. Let him be.”

  “But he’s hurt. I can’t just—”

  “You’d better. Come on. Walk off so he knows he doesn’t have to defend himself from you. See if he can make it on his own.”

  “But—”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You plan on taking him back to the city with you?”

  How could she? Pets weren’t allowed in her building, even if she had time to care for one. And moving an old cat from this beautiful place to the city… “I guess not.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Nature doesn’t have a bleeding heart.”

  “Neither do I.” She hadn’t thought so anyway.

  David walked around her, peered behind the bush. “There. He’s gone.”

  “But that other cat—”

  “The way of the world.” He shrugged it off so easily.

  She couldn’t do the same, making a mental note to leave some food out in case the injured cat returned.

  Then she dragged her attention back to the moment. “You’re early.” She glanced at her wrist. Only seven o’clock.

  The rising sun slanted over his face, throwing his rugged, handsome features into relief. “You didn’t say a time.” His jaw muscles flexed. “Thought I remembered you as an early riser.”

  And just like that, the past was a living, breathing entity between them. Thought I remembered you… He’d been an early bird, too, and he’d sometimes shared breakfast with her at Miss Margaret’s before he’d driven her to school during that fall and winter after the summer that had changed both their lives.

  Beneath the bill of his cap, his eyes were too shadowed for her to glean any sense of his mood. Strictly business, she reminded herself, but perhaps common courtesy would ease the tension between them. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  He shook his head.

  “I haven’t eaten yet. Would you—shall I fix you some breakfast, too?”

  Another curt shake. “Just give me your list, and I’ll get started.”

  “I—I thought we could visit each house together. I’d like to hear your opinions as we go through them.”

  The blasted cap prevented her from seeing his expression, but the stiffness of his shoulders told her a lot, none of it encouraging. “Then I’ll work on things around here until you’re done.” He stalked away before she could respond.

  Damn you, David. Stop being a hard-ass. She didn’t know whether to put him in his place with a reminder of who was working for whom or leave him alone, as he clearly preferred.

  She watched him go, recalling the glimpse she’d had of his despair, his certainty that he was doomed, and found enough patience to say nothing. She should eat to fortify herself for what was certain to be a difficult day. Meanwhile, there was no question that much was needed here at Miss Margaret’s
to repair the place.

  Callie went inside. And left him alone.

  Visit each house. Together.

  Of course she couldn’t possibly just hand him a damn list. Couldn’t let him be and trust him—not when she had put herself in charge of his whole life, now, could she?

  No, she had to stand there in front of him, with those big brown calf eyes he’d never fully erased from his mind, the curves of a grown woman replacing the young teen’s, with the scent of some expensive perfume that could make a man want to howl at the moon.

  Didn’t she understand how long he’d been locked up without a woman? How he’d tried losing himself with a stranger one time, only to discover that the purely physical release left him more empty than ever?

  Then Callie showed up, and she was nothing like before—nothing—yet she kept dragging the past out of the box where he’d had it so firmly locked away.

  This isn’t you. What’s going on, David?

  She was gutsy, just as she had been at fourteen, but there was strength in her that she hadn’t possessed before. That strength was too tempting to lean on—he hadn’t relied on another soul in more years than he could count, and he couldn’t start now.

  You didn’t start the fight with Carson. Her certainty had a lure all its own, if only he could believe in it. She was a temporary fixture in his life, though, and he didn’t trust her motives. Something was off-kilter with her, though he couldn’t put a finger on it. He didn’t have faith in what he didn’t know—hell, he didn’t have faith in anything, period. The stupid, idealistic boy had learned a lot of harsh lessons behind prison walls, and one of the most enduring was that everyone had a breaking point. No one was as strong as they thought.

  He’d go back to jail because he had no choice, and he could survive it again, but he had to enter that zone again where he didn’t consider the future and didn’t remember the past. He just lived moment by moment until enough days and weeks and years had passed that his time was done.

  But hope might very well break him.

  Callie, with those big eyes and that slender body and that will of steel, wanted him to hope. Had some crazy idea of defending him. Wouldn’t be scared off, however hard he tried to shove her away.