Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Faith giggled and hugged him.

  “Want to go out and see what Matt’s up to?” Joe asked after a few more choice readings.

  “Will you push me on the swing?”

  “Sure. Get a sweater.”

  When Faith darted into the house, Joe threw on the hooded blue sweatshirt he’d brought along, and retied his sneakers. He’d been hoping to get to play with the kids outside. But Matt had, indeed, gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. He was more hostile today than usual. Joe had to find some way to break through to him, or this estrangement was going to drive him crazy.

  He’d talked to Linc about it, in one of the many discussions they had on Sundays when they left the kids. He’d been thrown together with his old buddy a lot—here, at the Council meetings, where afterward they often shared a cup of coffee. He was even using Linc as a sounding board for some of the programs he was setting up for the youth of the town. On the cusp of racing season, it was important to find ways to keep the kids busy.

  He grinned, thinking how he’d been right about Linc’s reaction to the modeling job. He’d razzed the hell out of Joe, calling him Boxer Joe. Joe still blushed when he thought of Annie, Margo and Beth catching him in flagrante, so to speak.

  When Faith returned, they headed outside. He saw Matt stiffen as he came up to the swings. “Mind if we join you?”

  Linc smiled. “’Course not.”

  Faith climbed on the swing and began to hum. Joe pushed her, while Matt wandered to the tree. He picked up his baseball and glove and began to toss it up in the air.

  “I’m going to the sandbox,” Faith said after several pushes. “Wanna come, Daddy?”

  “You go on, honey. I’d like to talk to Matt.” He bent down and hugged her. She gave him a big slobbery kiss and skipped off to the sandbox. Joe crossed to Matt. “Want to throw the ball around?”

  Matt shrugged. Well, that was progress. Usually Joe just got the cold shoulder. He wondered idly where that phrase came from as he picked up a glove.

  His son stared longingly at the bat on the ground. “Maybe I could hit some. You could pitch and Uncle Linc could play outfield.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Joe struggled to keep his pleasure concealed. This was the first overture Matt had made to him. Joe glanced at Linc. “What about you, Uncle Linc?”

  “I’m at your disposal.” Linc took Joe’s mitt and jogged to the “outfield.”

  At the “mound” Joe assumed a pitcher’s stance. “Ready?”

  Matt nodded. He watched the boy focus. Grip the bat. Zero in on the ball as it flew toward him. The bat connected solidly, and Linc had to stretch to catch the pop fly.

  Four pitches later, Joe called out, “You’re good, Matt. Very good.”

  Matt grumbled something and play continued. After a half hour, Linc begged off to get a drink, and taking Faith with him, trekked into the house. Joe jogged up to his son. “You’ve got a lot of talent, Matt. What position do you play?”

  “First base.” He stared over Joe’s shoulder. “I did anyway. Our team doesn’t have a coach this season. Mr. Pike moved to the city, and there’s not a lot of fathers who wanna get involved.”

  “What happens if you don’t get a coach?”

  “We’re dropped from the league. Uncle Linc could do it. But Mom says he’s busy and he’d be spreading himself too thin.” Matt rolled his eyes. “You probably know where that phrase came from.”

  Joe laughed. “Not off the top of my head.”

  Matt bit back a grin. “Geez, you’re full of ‘em.”

  Joe thought for a minute. “What would you say to my coaching your team?”

  Winning the lottery couldn’t compare to what the look on Matt’s face did to Joe’s insides. It made him vow to get close to his son, no matter what he had to do.

  “Could you?”

  Joe understood the implication of the question. “I’ll have to ask your mom. You’re right, Uncle Linc is too busy to be there for the games and practices.”

  “I, um…” Matt kicked the dirt with his toe. “I still don’t understand all this. Why he has to be with us.”

  “I know, Matt. It’s hard.” He glanced to the upstairs where Annie was working. Faith had told him she was renovating the house. She’d gotten to be one tough cookie. Geez, now he was thinking idioms. “I’ll go ask her.”

  With Matt’s pleased grin firmly in mind, he headed to the door, where Linc was just exiting. “I need to talk to Annie.”

  Linc said nonchalantly, “I’ll come up.”

  Joe bit back his objection. Damn, it had been weeks since he’d been coming here, proving himself. He’d never once lost his temper with his kids. And he’d done wonders in his counseling sessions with Ronny. The boy had settled down and even started talking about what might be causing his misbehavior. Annie knew all this and, still, she wouldn’t let him near the kids alone.

  God give me strength , he prayed as he and his chaperone trudged into the house and upstairs.

  *

  DIPPING THE PAINTBRUSH into the can on the ladder’s shelf, Annie reached up to cut in from the ceiling. Instead of choosing a dull beige or off-white, she’d picked a pretty peach for the walls of her bedroom. Very feminine. She planned to buy that brass headboard she’d seen in a catalog as soon as she could afford it and refinish the pine dresser and nightstand next week.

  “Annie.”

  The brush slipped and she swiped her sleeve with a streak of paint. Damn it, his voice still held power over her. She whirled around. “What are you doing here?”

  Linc materialized behind him. Her heartbeat quieted as she set down the paintbrush and stepped off the ladder.

  “I want to talk to you.” Joe’s voice was soft, like he was soothing a mare. She didn’t particularly like the image.

  Flicking off the radio, she faced him. “I don’t want you up here.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too…” Intimate. And she remembered one time in a bedroom they’d shared that he—oh, God, she had to block the nightmare. “Never mind. Just don’t come here again.”

  “Fine.” His lips thinned.

  Too bad. She refused to succumb to his hurt feelings. Every time she made a negative comment, or criticized him, like about the underwear thing, he looked like a kicked dog. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she was still very frightened of him.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Matt’s Little League team doesn’t have a coach. He says they’ll be dropped from the league if they don’t find one.”

  “Somebody’ll volunteer. They always do.”

  “I’d like to.”

  “What?”

  “I’d like to be his coach.”

  “Matt wouldn’t want that.”

  “He must be desperate.” Joe shrugged, donned the little-boy look that she used to fall head over heels for. “He said I could ask you.

  “You already discussed this with him?”

  “Well, it just came up.”

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Annie, I…” He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it. Reminding her of the photo session. And what he looked like lazing on that couch. There were other times, in the bedroom, that were pleasant memories. She banished those, too. “I need some way to connect with Matt. His animosity’s gone on too long.”

  “He has good reason to resent you. He saw a lot.” Even if he’d never witnessed the worst.

  Joe swallowed hard. “I know. And I have to regain his trust. If I could see him more, I’d work on that. If we could do fun things together, he’d get to know me and realize I’ve changed.”

  She angled her chin. “The verdict’s still out on that one.”

  His eyes got bleak. “Please, give me a chance to replace his bad memories with good ones.”

  Annie sighed. She remembered seeing Matt study those stupid idioms in the book. She’d also found him looking at an old picture of Joe in a photo album. Her son’s face had bee
n…yearning.

  “You’ll be alone with him. Linc can’t go to games and practices.”

  “I know. Don’t you think I’m trustworthy enough for that?”

  “No.” She stared past Joe at Linc, who gave her his disappointed minister look. They’d had a discussion about this already.

  Linc came fully into the room. “Can we talk about this alone?”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  Joe turned and headed for the door. When he reached it, he pivoted around and dug his hands into his back pockets. “I know I hurt you in a way no man has a right to hurt a woman, but I don’t know what else to do to show you how sorry I am—and that I’ve changed. Please, Annie.” His voice cracked. “Give me a chance with Matt.”

  After he left, Annie sighed and dropped to the floor. She blew her bangs out of her hair and played with the tie on her sneakers. Contact with Joe put her through an emotional wringer every single time.

  Linc sank down beside her. They stared at the half-painted walls, the furniture covered with drop cloths. Finally he took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s time to let go a little, Annie.”

  “Of?”

  “The anger. He did despicable things to you. But you have to let go of that rage inside you. For your sake and for Matt’s.”

  “Matt’s?”

  “I’ve watched him. He’s taking his cues from you. Part of his attitude toward Joe comes from how you act.”

  “Oh, God, I don’t want that.” She stared at her fish tank on the other side of the room, watching the angelfish cruise and dart. “I’m not happy with how I’m behaving, either, Linc. It’s just that I’m scared of him.”

  “He’s changed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “God told me.”

  They both chuckled.

  “I feel it in my gut. I’ve spent time with him in the last month. You’ve seen how brilliant he’s been on the Council. He’s starting some good programs for kids, and Beth thinks he walks on water because of how he’s helped Ronny.”

  “Beth’s a pussycat. So are you.”

  “Well, tiger, maybe it’s time to sheath your claws. Give him this opportunity with Matt. I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  Annie sighed. “I’ll think about it. Maybe he can be alone with Matt for the game stuff. There’ll be others around, anyway, most of the time. And Matt’s old enough to tell me if anything happens.” She looked at Linc. “I’m not ready to be alone with him in this house, though.”

  Linc cocked his head, his dark eyes sad. “Maybe you should go back to see your counselor. Talk about Joe being back in town.”

  “Maybe.” If she could get rid of the fear, it would be worth it. “Maybe I will.”

  *

  JOE DROPPED DOWN on one of steps halfway downstairs, waiting for Linc to come out of Annie’s room. He’d only made it this far when the sight of her on the ladder resurrected another time, years ago, when she’d been on a ladder painting….

  He’d been hoping for a promotion at work. Sensing he was on a downslide he might never recover from, he’d applied for a supervisor’s position and been turned down. “No college,” the boss had told him. “You’re smart as a whip, Murphy, but the job calls for more education.” As if he felt sorry for him, the boss added, “Why don’t you take some courses at the local community college?”

  Joe had walked out and gone to Zip’s Bar and Grill. Could he really go to college? It was something he’d never dreamed of, even though Margo and Linc had gone and finished. He was nursing a beer when his father walked in. The old man was already drunk. He crossed right to Joe. “Heard you blew the promotion at the B plant.”

  Joe said nothing.

  “I was right about you. You’re goin’ nowhere, son, just like me.”

  The just like me made Joe order a shot, then another, to go with his beer. He was drunk when he stumbled his way out of the bar, thoughts of college disappearing like mist off the lake with his father’s taunting. When he’d walked into their apartment and found Annie up on a ladder, painting Matt’s room, all his frustration focused on her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Painting Matt’s room. Since he’s staying with your mother tonight, I thought…”

  “I told you we couldn’t afford the paint.”

  Her wide-eyed innocence had enraged him. “I used my dance money. The paint was on sale.”

  Blindly he stalked to her. Irrational, he stuck out his foot and kicked the bottom of the ladder. Paint went flying…and so did she. Like a baby oak tree felled by an ax, she tumbled to the floor, right on her wrist. It was her sobs that cleared the haze of his anger. He’d been astounded by what he’d done, remorseful. He’d taken her to ER, but he remembered she didn’t look at him, all the way there. Afterward, he tried to apologize, but she blanked her face and averted her gaze. During the night, she cried her eyes out.

  He’d finished painting Matt’s room the next morning, and proceeded to give the whole place a fresh coat. Eventually she’d forgiven him.

  But it had taken her broken wrist six months to heal.

  His own moan brought him out of the black hole of memory. No wonder she couldn’t trust him. He was a bastard. He was scum.

  Was is the operative word here, Pete would say.

  He couldn’t see that now. He guessed it was time for another session with his counselor.

  *

  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.”