Next Door Secrets (Secrets Series Book 2)

by Lenfestey, Karen

  Her daughter limped toward her, favoring her right foot as she always did. As the bus drove off, a kid yelled out an open window, “Bye, Hop-Along!” and Beth clenched her teeth. It appeared that Willow hadn’t heard it, though—thank God. Or maybe she'd simply grown used to the cruelty of children by now.

  The wind blew a strand of the girl’s ebony hair across her face and she brushed it aside. “Anything for me?”

  Beth scanned the remaining items in her hand. The November Midwest Living magazine and a letter from the Indiana University alumni association—no doubt asking for her to renew her annual donation. “Not today.” As they walked toward her brick house, she noticed her daughter’s Winnie the Pooh backpack, the one she’d brought with her from the group home, looked worn out and faded. “Maybe it’s time we buy you a new backpack.”

  Limping up the driveway, Willow shook her head. “Nope.”

  Since Willow had so very few things from before, Beth didn’t argue. “I need you to grab an apple for a snack and get in the car. We have somewhere to go today.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in the large, well-lit lobby of the optometrist’s office. While the technician adjusted Beth’s new reading glasses, Willow entertained herself by trying on the children’s frames displayed on the nearby wall.

  Looking at her own reflection, Beth couldn’t get used to the tortoise shell frames covering her face. “I can’t believe I need reading glasses already. I’m not even forty yet.”

  The thin woman with naturally curly hair and cherry red frames shrugged at her. “I’ve worn glasses all of my life. You’re lucky you never had to.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  The woman glanced at Willow. “She’s cute. Must take after her dad, huh?”

  “Yeah.” With dishwater blonde hair and fair skin, Beth knew she didn’t look at all like Willow, whose dark hair framed her face. Even though they both had blue eyes, Willow’s were a shade that seemed impossibly beautiful.

  Beth hated explaining to strangers that Willow wasn’t hers, so she adjusted the frames on the bridge of her freckled nose. They felt funny. “It’s a little tight on my right ear.” As she pulled them off, a strand of her shoulder-length hair momentarily caught on the side piece. She detangled it and handed the frames to the woman who heated the plastic to make it more pliable.

  Sporting a pink pair of frames, Willow limped to Beth’s side. The frames obscured part of the scar that ran down the left side of her face. She leaned close to whisper into her ear. “I think I need glasses, too.”

  Beth turned her head to look at her. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I can’t see the board at school.”

  “You’ve never told me that before.” The girl probably wanted a pair of glasses because she wanted to hide behind them. “Glasses aren’t any fun. Trust me, you don’t want to need them.”

  “I’m not lying. I need glasses.”

  The technician finished her work, handed Beth the frames to try on, then looked at Willow. “Those are one of our most popular pairs. Did you see Minnie Mouse on the sides?”

  Willow’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t speak. It took her a while to warm up to strangers. She whispered in Beth’s ear, “Ask her if they have Winnie the Pooh frames.”

  Sighing, Beth tried to decide whether to take her seriously or not. “Do you have any Winnie the Pooh frames?” The woman said they did not and Willow hung her head. Beth glanced at herself in the mirror one last time before taking off the glasses and sticking them in their case. “They’re good. Now, my daughter here seems to think she needs glasses, too. Could we schedule an exam for her?”

  “Actually, the doctor has time now.”

  “Um, she’s not on my insurance. Do you take Medicare?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  The truth was, Beth didn’t mind paying out-of-pocket. “That’s okay. We might as well do it, just to put my mind at ease.” She and Willow followed the technician to the small room in the back. “Is it all right if I stay with her during the exam?”

  “Sure. The doctor will be right in.” She left as Willow climbed up into the chair surrounded by metal equipment.

  When the doctor came in, he wore black glasses and a white lab coat. “Back so soon?”

  Beth nodded. “She said it’s hard to see things far away.”

  He dimmed the lights and began the exam. Willow twirled her dark hair around her finger and refused to speak. She didn’t respond when he asked if this was better or that was better. Finally, Beth stood closer so Willow could whisper the letters on the eye chart into her ear. Beth felt a little ridiculous, serving as an interpreter, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  At the end of the exam, the doctor wrote some notes on a clipboard. “It turns out Willow is slightly nearsighted. Wearing glasses would make things clearer, but just barely. If you wanted to wait another year, she could get by without lenses.”

  Beth made eye contact with her daughter. “Well, if it were me, I’d wait. What do you think?” Willow shook her head and Beth shifted from one foot to the next. What kid wanted glasses? When she was in school, everyone called the kids with glasses “four-eyes” or “nerd.”

  Willow put her hands together as if in prayer. She mouthed the word “Please.”

  “Okay. Let’s go pick out some frames.” The two of them went back to the waiting room where another family had started looking around. Willow limped over to the pink Minnie Mouse frames and put them on again.

  Beth chuckled. “I guess we have a winner.” She handed them to the technician so she could write down the numbers and place the order. After she paid, the woman explained it would be about a week for the glasses to be ready.

  Willow cupped her hand to whisper in Beth’s ear. “Why can’t I have them now?”

  “They have to order your prescription and put them in the frames, Sweet Pea. Just like they did for me.”

  Scowling at her reflection in the mirror, Willow rubbed the jagged line on her face. Beth had been right; she liked the glasses because you almost didn’t notice her scar with them on.

  As they walked to the parking lot, Willow asked, “Can we stop by Mee-ma’s on the way home?”

  Climbing into the driver’s seat of her Chevy, Beth thought that it was wonderful that Willow had nicknames for her “grandparents.” She turned the key and started the engine. “Mee-ma has to work late tonight. Papa will be the only one home.”

  “That’s okay. Can we stop? Please?”

  Beth squeezed the steering wheel. “Not today.”

  “Don’t you like Papa?”

  How to avoid this discussion? Seeing him wasn’t easy. She’d disappointed him and he wouldn’t let her forget it. “He’s my father and I love him.” Liking was sometimes harder than loving.

  Later that night, after she’d tucked Willow into bed, Beth put on her new reading glasses. Closing her bedroom door, she pulled out the letter hidden in her pocket. She shouldn’t have been surprised to get a letter from Willow’s mother, but her hands trembled as she broke the seal.

  Dear Willow,

  I miss you sooooo much! It’s been too long since I held you in my arms. Too long since I saw your pretty blue eyes. Too long since you sang to me.

  That made Beth pause. She’d never heard Willow sing. Now that she thought about it, it was odd. Most young children loved music and yet this was another example of how Willow wasn’t like most kids. Beth dropped her gaze and continued reading.

  Someday you, your sister and I will be together again. Won’t it be great to be a family once more? It’s all I think about in here, in this concrete hell. I know I made mistakes, but I think the judge had it in for me, too. How else to justify taking a young mother away from her precious daughters? It’s a crime for you and me to be apart. I can’t wait until they see that I’m no “threat to society” and let me out. I pray every day that the good Lord will free me. There’s a woman from a nearby church that visits me
and gave me a Bible. She says God forgives me and I believe her. She’s been good to me, but doesn’t have much money to put in my account. You see, people can put money into my account at the prison so I can buy necessities like toothpaste and deodorant. I don’t have anybody who cares about me but her, so she gives me what little she can, but it ain’t enough. I really need some more money.

  Anyway, let me tell you what I’ve been up to. I think you’ll be impressed. In addition to finding the Lord, I’ve been going to cosmetology training here. That way when I get out, I can get a good-paying job and can take care of you and your sister. It’s weird because everywhere in the prison, I have to wear a mask. I have to act tough so people won’t mess with me, but when I enter the training room, it’s different. The walls are painted pink and purple. This woman from the outside comes in and runs the program. She wears big gold hoop earrings and reminds us to act like ladies. She says it’s important to take care of ourselves. I’ve learned how to do manicures and pedicures. I don’t much like the pedicures because some people’s feet are disgusting, but the pedicures pay better, so I’m gonna keep doing them.

  So, as you can see, I’m ready to be a good mother to you. I’d love it if you’d come for a visit. I’m including blank visitor approval forms for you to fill out. Send them with your photo back to the prison, so you can see your momma. I miss you! I miss you! I miss you! If you’d come visit, it would make me so happy. If you can’t get your foster parents to give you a ride, could you at least send me some stuff? I’d love a multi-pack of Juicy Fruit gum. I’d also appreciate it if you could send me some People magazines and if you could put some money into my account.

  I love you and miss you! Hope to see you soon.

  Momma,

  Beth had fooled herself into thinking that living in South Bend, Indiana, hundreds of miles from the prison, protected Willow. As she rolled her stiff shoulders, she tried to decide what to do with the letter. It would be good for Willow to hear from her mother, but it bugged her how much of the letter was about Gola’s needs. What kind of woman asked her six-year-old to send money?

  Folding up the letter, Beth stuck it in her sock drawer and tried to forget it.

  # # #

  The morning sun mocked Melodie Bennett as she pounded on the front door of her farmhouse. She jerked the handle, but it wouldn’t open. Panic flooded her veins. Grasping the tarnished knob tighter, she tried to turn it. She threw her shoulder against the door, then jiggled the handle some more. Dang it! She’d locked herself out.

  No, no, no! Not today. She ran to the back door and tried to turn its knob. Shaking her head, she walked around the house and looked at each window on the first and second floors, hoping that one would be open. Of course not. As a single mom, she kept her doors and windows secure. A check of her watch revealed only ten minutes had passed since her daughter had climbed on the school bus, but it felt like forever. Stranded on her front porch in her robe and slippers, she let out a yell. “No!”

  What was she going to do? Should she break a window and climb in? Should she call a lock smith? If she waited on that, she’d definitely miss her job interview. Her first one since before Zoe was born. Her palms grew moist. As if she wasn’t nervous enough about making a good impression. What would they think if she called to cancel? She couldn’t risk it. But what choice did she have?

  She heard the roar of a motorcycle coming down the road as she pounded on her door. The engine grew louder and sounded as if it were about to run her over.

  Whipping around, she saw an athletic-looking man in a black leather jacket climb off a bike. Her pulse skyrocketed as she cinched her robe at the neck. What did he want?

  When he pulled off his helmet, he revealed blue-gray eyes and tousled brown hair that curled below his ear. He started walking closer. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine.” He had that casual five o’clock shadow that rock stars liked to sport. Something about his face looked familiar and yet she didn’t know him.

  Perhaps he read the uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m your new neighbor. I inherited the Walker farm from my grandparents.” He pointed past the river that meandered through their properties toward the woods.

  Nodding, she felt her heartbeat ease its rapid pace. Until Mr. Walker passed away, he’d been teaching them how to live off the land. He’d shared his farm equipment and advised them which size John Deere tractor they should invest in. If this man was related to Mr. Walker, then he came from good stock. She decided to trust him. “I locked myself out and I have an important meeting in less than an hour.”

  He walked onto the front porch and tried the handle. She rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it.

  He pulled a credit card out of his wallet. “This door looks pretty old. Let’s see if this will work.” His smirk probably made most women’s knees turn to mush, but she was immune. Between his motorcycle and his faded blue jeans, he had the whole “bad boy” thing down pat. Too bad Melodie was way past that stage in her life.

  He slid the edge of the plastic into the slit along the frame and pushed down. He tried again and again.

  She started pacing. So much for her handsome neighbor rescuing her.

  He glanced at her. “Do you always walk around in your robe?”

  Catching her reflection in the front window, she used her hands to smooth the brown hair falling loose from her bun. “I have a job interview today and I was afraid if I put on my suit, I’d spill something on it.”

  “How’d you get locked outside?”

  “I ran out to give my daughter her lunch. She’d be starving if she forgot it.” She’d packed a special sandwich cut into a heart-shape and yogurt-covered raisins. Guilt oozed into her. “Shoot. I forgot to take her picture, too. It’s her birthday and I’m so distracted that I didn’t take her picture.” Her hands balled into fists. She always took Zoe’s picture the morning of her birthday.

  “It’s no big deal.” He sounded so blasé.

  “Spoken like someone who obviously doesn’t have kids.”

  Ignoring her, he jiggled the handle.

  So much for Mr. Bad Boy. Clearly, he’d never broken into a house before. She sighed loudly.

  “Hey, be patient. What kind of job are you looking for anyway?”

  Small talk. She had no time for this. “I used to be a lawyer.”

  He shook his head. “Too bad.”

  She cringed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you know the difference between a lady lawyer and a weasel?”

  Scowling at him, she didn’t bother to answer.

  “High heels.” He laughed a little to himself.

  Her pacing path grew longer and took her to the side of the house where an abandoned ax was mounted in a log. Just where Zoe’s dad had left it two years ago. Without another thought, she grabbed the ax and marched toward the door. “Move.”

  The man’s eyes grew wide and he froze.

  “I’m serious. Move.” She pushed him aside and started chopping at the latch. Swinging the heavy blade felt good. Splintering the door sent endorphins bolting through her system. Chop, chop, chop. She destroyed the wood, defeated the lock and kicked in the front door. It was a rush.

  “Well, that’s one way to do it.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and possibly a bit of awe.

  She leaned the ax against the yellow siding. “I’ve got to go, but thanks for trying.” While she waved at him, she mentally patted herself on the back at the way his scruffy jaw hung open. He’d been denied his chance to rescue the princess and she loved it.

  # # #

  The hardware store smelled of sawdust and fertilizer, but he barely noticed. Reaching into his wallet, he started to pull out the Visa with his alias on it.

  “Is that you, Conner? Conner Walker?” the woman behind the cash register asked.

  He studied her. Short, bleached blonde hair, big teeth. “Sunny?”

  She flashed him that Julia Roberts smile. “What are you doing in tow
n?”

  Sliding the Visa back into place, he pulled out cash. “My grandfather died and so I’m living at his place for a while, sorting things out.”

  Her eyebrows dropped in sympathy. “I heard about Mr. Walker. Sorry. He was a good man.”

  Conner nodded to indicate that it was okay even though it wasn’t. His grandfather had raised him since his parents weren’t up to the job. It still hurt that he hadn’t seen the man in a couple of years. Sure, they’d spoken on the phone, but Conner couldn’t risk a face-to-face visit. And this interaction with Sunny was exactly why. “Everyone knows everything in a small town, don’t they?”

  Her expression perked up. “Yep. So what have you been up to?”

  “Not much. Moved around a lot.”

  “Been anywhere interesting?”

  “All over the Midwest. I wouldn’t say it was interesting.”

  “Married?”

  “No way.”

  “I’m single, too. As you know, there isn’t much to do around here, but if you ever want to go bowling, I play every Friday night. Stop by sometime.”

  Nodding, he took his receipt. He would not stop by. He would go back home and plot his escape.

  Buy A MOTHER’S CONVICTION to find out what happens next!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Karen Lenfestey, a Midwest Writer’s Fellowship winner, writes “happy endings with a twist.” Her first novel, A Sister’s Promise, sold over 35,000 copies and spent many weeks as the #1 drama on Amazon. Karen has a B.A. in Advertising from Purdue University and a M.S. in Counseling from Indiana University. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys speaking at book clubs and writer’s conferences. She is active on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter and on her website, www.karensnovels.com.