A Mother's Conviction (Secrets Series Book 3)

by Karen Lenfestey

  “Mommy and her boyfriends.”

  A deep breath. Of course. He rubbed Bella’s back. “Not all relationships are like that.”

  “Sure they are.”

  “No, sweetie. They aren’t. Your mom shouldn’t have put up with that. It’s important that when you start dating, you don’t stay with some guy who treats you badly. Love is supposed to feel good, not hurt.”

  She lowered her dolls like a drawbridge and gazed into his eyes. “Then why did Mommy let them hit her?”

  “I don’t know. Something inside of her was broken and she didn’t believe she deserved better.” That was about the kindest thing he could say about her.

  “Did you ever hit Mommy?”

  Swallowing, he tried to think of what to say. He and his ex had both been known to throw things at the wall, but he drew the line at assault. “No. A real man doesn’t ever raise his hand to a woman.”

  “I don’t remember you and Mommy being together.”

  He reached around her shoulders and hugged her. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “Because we brought out the worst in each other.”

  “Are you gonna marry that woman?”

  Sunny. She was pretty, but he wouldn’t be in town long enough to get involved with anyone. “Not a chance. You’re the only girl in my life.”

  “You’re the best daddy in the whole world.” She squeezed him tight and he wanted desperately to believe her.

  “Thanks. You’re the best daughter in the world.” He waited a few beats and then released her. “I’ve got to start dinner. Do you have any homework?”

  “No. It was my first day at a new school.”

  It may have been her first day, but she’d missed several weeks in this school district. “So? You could have homework.”

  She giggled. “Not if your teacher is nice like Mrs. Tandy.”

  “Mrs. Tandy, huh? I had her when I was a kid, too.” She must be close to retirement age by now, considering he’d thought she was old twenty years ago. Even so, he knew Mrs. Tandy would do a good job challenging his daughter. Sometimes he worried his daughter was falling behind, developing gaps in her education, because they moved around so much. Too bad they had no choice.

  He headed out the door and closed it softly behind him. Ignoring the land line, he took his cell phone to the far side of the house and dialed. A gruff man answered with a “Yeah?”

  “Who hired you to find me?” He figured the guy was only working one case this far from home.

  “Conner. You’re a hard man to find.”

  Fortunately, Walker was a common last name and the family farm was listed under his grandmother's maiden name, Quinlen. So maybe this guy still didn't know exactly where he was. Maybe. “I was hoping I’d have a little more time. So, what do you want?”

  “Your ex-wife hired me.”

  He leaned against the wall for support. “Gola. Has she been released?” In his mind he was already packing. They’d have to abandon his grandfather’s farm and his old motorcycle. Take only what was necessary.

  “She’s up for parole next week and it looks promising. She’s been clean and sober for a couple of years now and she wants a fresh start with her daughter.”

  “Never. She’s evil. She doesn’t care about. . .” He didn’t say her name.

  “It’s none of my business which one of you would make the better parent. My only question to you is what kind of a childhood is it to never stay in one place, to never make a best friend, to never lay your head on the same pillow from one week to the next?”

  “Don’t you dare judge me.”

  “Hey, I got three kids of my own and I know that kids need consistency.”

  “They also need to feel loved. I’ll do anything to keep my daughter safe.” Leave the milk in the fridge, take the cereal, the canned goods and the apples on the table. Fortunately he hadn’t unpacked any of his furniture—he’d just been using what was already in the house. They could escape quicker than usual.

  “Like I said, it’s not my decision. A judge will make that call.”

  Conner disconnected the line and rushed to Bella’s room. But she wasn’t there. He looked around at the dolls still sitting on the floor and the backpack tossed on the unmade bed. He walked into the hall and checked the bathroom and the other two bedrooms. “Bella? Where are you?” No answer. He searched the small living room and went back to the kitchen where he started. Finally, he threw open the front door and called out her name.

  The river sloshed in response so he ran down to its edge. Surely she hadn’t fallen in. He looked up and down and didn’t see anything. Did she even know how to swim? Why hadn’t he thought about that before he’d brought her there? “Bella!” Urgency tinged his voice. Fear more than anger this time. “Bella?”

  His gaze skimmed the horizon. Spotting the barn with the faded red paint, he darted for it. As soon as he stepped inside, he smelled musty straw. Thanks to the light coming in from the door, he saw his daughter kneeling down in a small pile of hay. “Bella, we need to go. Come inside and pack your stuff.”

  “Come here, Daddy!”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “It’s Mittens. Something’s wrong.”

  He heard a cat howl as if it were dying. The truth was he didn’t even know which one of the barn cats was Mittens. “I told you that they’re not pets. They can take care of themselves.”

  Her young eyes pleaded with him. “I’m scared, Daddy. We can’t leave Mittens. We need to take him to the vet.”

  Shaking his head, he headed toward her. His daughter was too sensitive. He’d never been that way, so he didn’t understand it. Another howl echoed through the dilapidated barn. He came closer and realized that Mittens was definitely not a male.

  A tiny kitten slid out from the calico.

  “Sweetie, the cat’s giving birth, that’s all.”

  “Look how tiny it is!” his daughter squealed with delight. Soon three more kittens followed. Then the cat turned around and started licking them.

  This was probably the first time his daughter had ever seen an animal being born. He allowed her to watch in awe as he remembered the first time he’d seen a cow give birth. He’d been about five and he’d thought it was amazingly gross. He grinned at the memory.

  A few minutes later, he clapped his hands together. “Okay. You can see Mittens is fine. This probably isn’t her first litter so she’ll know what to do. And we have to hit the road.”

  “Can’t we stay, Daddy? Just this one time?” Her eyes shone with tears. “I love Mittens. I’ve never had a pet before. And I like Zoe. It’s been forever since I had a best friend.”

  “You just met Zoe this morning.” He shook his head. He could hear an imaginary time bomb ticking away. Was the private investigator going to alert the county sheriff? How close was the P.I. to figuring out where he was? It was stupid to think he could come home. But part of him had longed for it.

  “Zoe’s my best friend. She gave me a friendship bracelet. See?” A colorful circle of Legos surrounded her wrist. “Please, Daddy. I like it here.”

  He reached down and grabbed her small hand. “I know. I’m sorry, but we don’t have a choice.”

  She jerked away from him. “Sure we do. You’re a grown up. You have a choice. I’m the one who doesn’t have a choice. I’m happy here. Can’t you see?” She stroked the calico as tears streamed down her chubby cheeks.

  # # #

  After Zoe went to bed, Melodie paid the bills on-line and tried not to think about her neighbor. Who was that blonde with the nose ring that showed up at his door and acted like they had history? She looked a little rough around the edges. Was that the kind of woman Conner dated? Maybe he didn’t like an educated woman who would challenge him. Maybe that’s why he made his lawyer jokes—to put her in her place.

  When she typed in the amount for the mortgage, the computer wouldn’t let her do it. Error. She didn’t have enough mone
y in her account to cover it. That’s because it was a huge chunk of money. Without Paul’s income or any income from the farm, she was running out of options. She was still paying off her student loans, too. How many house payments could she miss before the bank foreclosed on them? Shaking her head, she changed the payment to zero and searched for a cherry chip cake recipe. Somehow she’d lost track of time cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming and hadn’t made it to the grocery store to buy another mix.

  The problem was she didn’t have a jar of cherries in the fridge or even a can of pie filling in the pantry. She thought about calling Conner since he was so creative in the kitchen, but she quickly dismissed it. The last thing she needed was that man’s help.

  # # #

  Despite his better judgment, Conner let Bella spend another night in his childhood home. He let her dress and go to school in the morning, too. For some reason, as he cleaned the pan he’d fried bacon in, he let the P.I.’s words torment him. Kids need consistency. What kind of a childhood was he giving his daughter—always on the run? But then again, what were the consequences of staying in one place? He scrubbed the pan with a scouring pad so hard some of the non-stick coating flaked off.

  Everything would be fine as long as Gola stayed locked up. Worst case scenario, he could let his daughter have a few more days of happiness until he had no choice but to leave town. If he was lucky, Gola would be denied parole and he could finish packing up the house and sell it first. No more time for procrastinating.

  After the kitchen was clean, he forced himself to go through his grandfather’s chest of drawers, sorting which bib overalls and flannel shirts to donate, which were too worn and needed to be tossed. It was going fairly well until he found a pair of work gloves, which made him think of his grandfather’s enormous, calloused hands.

  The man had labored to make-up for the fact that he hadn’t graduated high school. And he’d taught Conner that hard work and family were all that mattered in this world. It broke his grandfather’s heart when Conner chose to waste his twenties hanging out in bars and waking up in strange beds. For some reason, Conner couldn’t get over both of his parents abandoning him. And what was especially stupid was that he chose to muffle his pain the same way they had—with booze.

  He shook his head to rid himself of the shame. At least his grandfather had lived to see Conner straighten up and become a good father. Well, he hadn’t seen much of Conner, but he knew it. They’d spoken on the phone regularly and he’d sensed that his grandfather was finally proud of him.

  Staring at the gloves, he couldn’t decide whether to donate them or keep them. As he stared at the worn leather, the ringing phone pulled him out of his daze. Who could that be? He never got any calls on the land line. Hardly anyone even knew he was there.

  As he headed for the rotary dial phone on the wall by the kitchen, the smoky scent of fried bacon grew stronger. He grabbed the phone whose white cord hung in twists nearly to the floor. “Hello?”

  “Conner Walker, this is Mrs. Tandy.”

  The voice wavered with old-age, but was firm. It was his third grade teacher, now Bella’s teacher. Panic tightened around his chest. “Is everything all right?”

  “No, not at all. I want to talk to you today. In person.”

  “Is Bella okay? What’s wrong?” His heart beat faster.

  “Right now Bella is in music class. How soon can you get here?”

  “I can be there in five minutes.”

  “Good.” She hung up the phone.

  He jammed his feet into his shoes and decided to take the pick-up in case Bella needed a ride home. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well.

  Kicking up a cloud of gravel dust behind him, he sped the whole way there. When he pulled up to the one-story brick school, it looked smaller than he remembered it. As a child, he’d spent several years of his young life walking those halls, playing on the monkey bars out back, and occasionally, sitting in the principal’s office. He slammed the pick-up door and rushed into the building. Except he couldn’t. The doors were locked. Then he saw the sign telling him to hit the buzzer and announce his name and why he was there.

  Columbine and Sandy Hook had changed schools everywhere. Back in his day, schools were a safe haven for the community—always open. Even though he’d gotten in trouble there, he’d respected his teachers and the principals, knowing that they only wanted what was best for him.

  He pushed the button. “Conner Walker here to see Mrs. Tandy.”

  “Child’s name?”

  “Bella Walker.” He almost didn’t hesitate any more. Soon they’d both be memorizing a new name and birth date. But he didn’t want to think about that now.

  “Sign in at the office please.” The door buzzed and he pulled it to reveal shiny floors smelling of lemony Pine-Sol. He turned to the right and entered the familiar waiting room outside the principal’s office. He smiled with relief when he saw the secretary wasn’t someone he knew. It was disconcerting the way he kept bumping into familiar faces in this small town. He was used to remaining anonymous and detached from the surrounding community. It had worked well for them so far. At least that’s what he told himself.

  He scribbled an illegible signature and made his way down the hall to Mrs. Tandy’s classroom. When he walked in, the desks were all vacant and Mrs. Tandy was writing on the chalkboard. He couldn’t believe how frail the woman looked. She’d always been a stern and intimidating task-master when he’d been one of her students, but now he stood a foot taller than she did.

  “Hello, Mrs. Tandy. It’s me, Conner.” Suddenly feeling as if he were still eight years old, he couldn’t decide what to do with his hands.

  Placing the chalk in its holder, she looked up at him. “Well, well. You sure did get tall.”

  He felt his cheeks grow warm. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did you ever make anything of yourself?” She sounded accusatory.

  “Well, I’ve worked a lot of different jobs. Truck driver, cook, but right now I’m focusing all of my attention on being a father. As you know, my grandfather passed away.”

  “Yes, my condolences.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Conner Walker, you’re too smart to be driving a truck. You could’ve been an engineer. I remember how you used to design all of these inventions to make running the farm easier. If only you would’ve taken your studies more seriously.”

  He’d nearly forgotten about that. He’d designed an automatic chicken feeder and egg collector in the hopes that he could sleep-in in the mornings. But just because he drew it on paper, didn’t mean he was capable of building it. “You always thought I had more potential than I did. Anyway, right now I’m busy going through my grandfather’s estate.” Estate seemed too grand a word for the farm house his grandfather had built with his own two hands, but Conner didn’t know what other word to use. Mrs. Tandy was making him tongue-tied.

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “Bella seems to think you’re going to move away.” Again, with the accusatory tone.

  He sucked in his breath. He certainly didn’t want Mrs. Tandy to know they’d been living on the run. “Is something wrong with Bella? You sounded concerned on the phone.” That’s right. Shift the focus away from him and onto what really mattered. His daughter.

  Mrs. Tandy wagged her bony finger at him. “You’d better do right by that child or your grandfather will roll over in his grave!”

  “I’m doing my best, I swear.”

  “Today Bella refused to go out for recess.”

  He took a breath. “Why?”

  “At first, she wouldn’t say. I told her she had to line up and go with the class. Then she put her head down on her desk and started crying.”

  “Is she sick?” At breakfast, she’d hardly eaten any of her eggs, but mostly pushed them around with her fork.

  “No. Finally, after the other kids left, she stopped crying.
She said there wasn’t any point. She said she didn’t want to make any friends because it would hurt too much when she had to leave.”

  His throat felt thick and he tried to swallow. He crossed his arms, trying to quell the feeling that he was a bad father. He could see it reflected in Mrs. Tandy’s eyes.

  “I’ll talk to Bella when she gets home. Don’t worry, Mrs. Tandy. I plan on doing what’s best for her.” Even though they’d never agree on what that meant.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Melodie’s doorbell rang before she was ready.

  Leaving child-sized foot prints across the fresh tracks of the vacuumed carpet, Zoe raced to the front door and opened it. “Grandma! Grandpa!” She embraced her grandmother while her grandfather wrapped a red scarf around Melodie’s neck. Then he wrapped a yellow one around Zoe that was so long it reached her feet.

  Melodie hugged the soft frames of her parents and wondered if they’d put on a little weight. She figured at their ages, they deserved to indulge themselves. Welcoming them inside, she lifted the end of the scarf. “What’s this, Dad?”

  “I’ve taught myself how to knit. What color hat do you want for Christmas?”

  Laughing, Melodie ushered them into the living room and they all sat on her beige suede couches, purchased with her first paycheck as an attorney. At the time, she hadn’t considered their lack of durability since having children seemed a long ways away.

  Just like retirement had once seemed a long ways away for her father. But the time had come last year and since then, he’d taken up woodworking, painting and now knitting. She studied the scarf. “Any color is fine. Can I get you guys something to drink?”

  Her mom waved her off. “No, no. We just came to help celebrate our granddaughter’s birthday. Which reminds me. Here.” She reached into her ginormous purse and handed her a jar of maraschino cherries.

  “Thanks.” Melodie set it on the kitchen counter. Yesterday she’d been knocked out by another migraine. She’d spent this morning playing catch-up by baking a cake from scratch, washing the dishes and vacuuming, all while battling her third headache of the week. Going to the store forty minutes away had been out of the question.