A Mother's Conviction (Secrets Series Book 3)

by Karen Lenfestey

  Zoe touched one of her favorite dresses draped across the bed. “I love fashion show! Can’t I please do a fashion show? You and Bella can watch.”

  Bella cocked her head. “What’s fashion show?” After Melodie explained it, Bella said she wanted to be a model, too.

  “I’m afraid none of Zoe’s clothes will fit you since you’re two years older,” Melodie said.

  Stashed in the corner, Bella found a baseball hat and Zoe’s sunglasses, which she put on. “I want to play fashion show, too.”

  Melodie smiled. “Okay, girls. You get dressed and then do the catwalk.”

  Digging in her closet, Zoe found a cowboy hat and put it on. “I don’t wanna catwalk this time. I wanna walk like a dog.” Both girls giggled. “What about our make-up, Mommy?”

  This was the real reason her daughter loved the fashion show. It was the only time she let her play with make-up. “You get on your first outfits and I’ll grab my bag.” She headed to her bathroom and returned to the disheveled room. Clothes from the bed had already been knocked to the floor, but she didn’t care. She sat on the carpet and helped the girls to apply pink eye shadow, mascara, rouge and lipstick. Then the fashion show began.

  Turning on the radio, Melodie heard Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” start playing. She sat at the end of the hall and the girls strutted and danced as if they were on a runway. Zoe wore blue jeans that were two inches too short and Bella sported a feather boa and fairy wings from old Halloween costumes. After each pass, Melodie clapped and cheered. The girls laughed and ran in the bedroom to change.

  Within an hour, she had sorted Zoe’s clothes into too small and still fits piles. The best part was that her daughter thought it was fun instead of a chore. A check of her watch made Melodie realize that Conner could not be counted on. “I need to make dinner while you two play.”

  “Need help?” Bella asked.

  Melodie’s palm pressed against her heart. “That’s so thoughtful. But I’ll be fine. You have fun.” As she walked toward the small kitchen, she decided that Conner must be doing something right to have raised such a well-mannered daughter. The truth was, she couldn’t quite figure him out. He didn’t even mention his daughter the day they met, he appeared to be dating some chick with a nose ring even though he’d just moved to town, and he went for a ride on his motorcycle so far that he couldn’t be there when Bella got off the school bus.

  Why did she care what Conner did? Picturing him in his black leather jacket, she wondered what it would be like to push it off his broad shoulders, what it would be like to touch his bare chest or feel his lips on hers. The doorbell rang and she dropped a spoon on the floor.

  She rushed to the door and saw Conner standing there just as he’d been in her fantasy moments earlier. Black jacket, wavy hair and a five o’clock shadow she wanted to feel prickle her skin. “Hi.”

  “Sorry I’m so late.” As he stepped inside, he looked like a man who needed to get something off his chest. “I had a long drive and I thought I could make it back in time for Bella, but there was a big pile-up on the highway.”

  Closing the door behind him, she stood there unable to think of anything to say. Since when did a man leave her tongue-tied? Not since she was a teenager.

  “I hope Bella wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

  “Not at all. The girls had a great time. I was just making dinner. Would you like to stay?”

  He shifted his weight. “Actually, I need to talk to you about some things. Get your legal advice.”

  “Are you kidding? You compared me to a weasel the first day we met and now you want my expert opinion?” Seeing the pained look cross his face made her instantly regret her attitude.

  “I admit, I don’t like lawyers much.”

  “Because all we care about is money.”

  He glanced around her humble living room and his eyes landed on the suede couch cushion where Zoe had spilled glue a while ago. “Obviously I was wrong about that.”

  Her hackles rose as she flipped the cushion over. “I’m no longer a lawyer, remember? I’m a stay-at-home mom, which is just as important a job. But it doesn’t pay nearly as well.”

  “I read somewhere they figured out that to hire a nanny, maid, and cook to do everything a full-time parent does, it equaled over $150,000.”

  “Is that before or after taxes?” She cracked a smile and when he did, too, she felt her tension release. Why was she so quick to take offense? It was another example of how insecure she’d become ever since she’d been trying to re-enter the workforce.

  Raking his hands through his dark hair, he took a breath. “It’s not easy for me to ask for favors, so thanks again for today. I took comfort knowing my daughter was in such good hands.”

  She nodded. He appreciated her and he knew that being a parent was an important job. “We’re even. You fixed my door and I helped you out today.”

  “That sounds fair. Just so you know, I ripped up the check you wrote.”

  Laughter burst from her. This guy was quite the character. He lived in an old house desperately in need of a coat of paint and probably a few repairs, but he wouldn’t accept a dime from her. She couldn’t quite figure him out and it was niggling at her.

  Just then the two girls ran into the living room. His jaw fell open when he saw Bella. “What’s that all over your face? You look like a clown.”

  Bella’s smile dissolved. “We played fashion show today. Why don’t you ever let me play with make-up?” She gave him an accusatory look. “Zoe’s mommy is so much fun.”

  He grabbed his daughter’s hand. “As soon as we get home, we’re washing that off.” As he headed for the door, he glanced back at Melodie. “We will NOT be staying for dinner.”

  # # #

  Conner saw a creepy old man eyeing the red-headed woman next to him and he was glad he’d left his daughter at home. The folding chair beneath him felt cold as he checked his watch. He’d been to more than a few of these meetings in church basements so he knew they usually lasted about an hour or so. He’d warned Bella not to open the door to anyone, but he fidgeted anyway.

  The twenty-something man at the podium avoided eye contact with the group of fifteen people. “I’ve been sober for one year, three months and sixteen days.” People clapped. “What I’ve figured out is that I actually get more out of these things when I shut my mouth and pay attention to other people’s stories. So, I’m gonna do that now.” Ducking his head, he returned to his seat in the second row.

  This was his chance. Conner stood and made his way to the front. Even though these meetings were anonymous, he always hesitated before saying his real name. Old habits. “I’m Conner and I’ve been sober for two years, seven months and eleven days.”

  “Hi, Conner,” the audience droned.

  He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. In the back row sat a man who seriously couldn’t sit still, which meant he’d probably fallen off the wagon.

  Conner looked away as if slipping were contagious. “Something happened today and I can’t quite cope. That’s not right. Lots of things happened today. Too many things. I saw my ex-wife and she might be getting out on parole. What scares me is she wants to take my daughter away even though she was the worst thing that ever happened to her. Not that I was that great of a father, either, but I got sober. I made the choice because that’s what my kid needed. My ex, though, she’s only sober because she’s been locked up. As soon as she gets out, she’ll go back to drinking and whoring around, I’m sure, because she still hasn’t taken personal responsibility for anything.”

  He took a breath and fidgeted with a pencil resting on the podium. It rolled from side to side while he gathered his thoughts. “That’s not all. When I got home, my little girl had lipstick on and I freaked out. She’s my only kid and I don’t want her to grow up too fast. She looks a bit like her mother, which is both good and bad. Anyway, seeing her with this neighbor lady reminded me how much girls need their mothers. I’ve been telling mysel
f all these years that I’m enough. That I’m doing everything for her. But like a punch in the gut, tonight I felt inadequate. Yeah, that’s the word. I couldn’t put my finger on it before. I just felt mad. But I blew up because I can’t be both mother and father. I can’t do it all.”

  The words were out and part of him wished he could take them back. He wasn’t a sharer. He didn’t like to feel vulnerable. But he’d tried to stop drinking on his own and AA was the only thing that seemed to work long-term. The funny thing was, talking about his feelings like this also made him want to drown his emotions with alcohol.

  Scanning the room, he saw sympathy in most everyone’s eyes. This was the best part. How supportive everyone was. “I guess that’s all. Thanks.” As people clapped, he hurried back to his chair and as he walked by, he “accidentally” kicked the guy leering at the red-head.

  The red-head stepped forward and introduced herself. “I used to drink and run to assholes because I didn’t care about myself. Just like my mother ran to assholes because she didn’t care about herself. But I don’t want that anymore. Some of my best times were when I was drunk but so were some of my worst.” She twirled her earring. “I’d like to try and see if there’s a guy who isn’t an asshole who’d like to be with me. I’m not sure if there is. But maybe if I’m sober, I’ll be able to recognize the assholes sooner, if nothing else.” For some reason, she started to cry and the audience patiently waited for her to pull herself together.

  He hoped that wouldn’t be his daughter standing up there someday with her hair dyed an unnatural shade of red and mascara running down her cheeks. With the secrets he’d kept from Bella, she’d probably either need alcohol or therapy to make it through. If Gola got out and he didn’t run again, would that make his daughter’s life better or worse? He wasn’t sure anymore.

  The woman sobbed and wiped a tear. “Sorry, I’m sorry. You must think I’m pathetic, but the reason I’m so messed up is because I’m an artist. A damn good one, if I do say so myself. And all the amazing artists were crazy. Van Gogh. Gauguin. Jackson Pollack. A lot of them were alcoholics, too, so maybe it’s my destiny. I don’t know. I’m gonna try living my life sober and see if it goes any better.” She walked to an empty seat in the back instead of returning to her original one.

  That was a wise first step anyway because that guy she’d been sitting next to definitely was an asshole. Conner laughed to himself as the meeting wrapped up. For a moment, he thought about how AA was a lot like high school. There were creeps and fakes and people exchanging phone numbers. But unlike high school, he had a daughter to get home to.

  As he drove his motorcycle through the dark, he noticed red and blue flashing lights up ahead. Emergency vehicle lights close to home. His stomach clenched and he accelerated to make sure they weren’t coming from his place.

  But they were.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A fire engine and police car loomed outside his house, their flashing lights tormenting him. Conner dropped his helmet on the ground and raced inside, calling his daughter’s name. Men in yellow firefighter gear trudged through his tiny living room. Smoke came from the kitchen and he yelled again. “Bella!”

  “Daddy!” His daughter threw herself at him and grabbed his waist in a tight hug.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He cupped his hand over her cheek as a firefighter approached him.

  “Sir, is this your house?”

  Nodding, Conner craned his neck to see into the kitchen. “What happened? There was a fire?” He felt Bella squeeze him tighter.

  “Not a big one. Apparently the microwave caught on fire. Your daughter panicked and called 911. We’ve got it all taken care of and we’ll be leaving now.”

  Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes for a second. His little girl could’ve been killed. He couldn’t bear to think about it. He gazed at the firefighter. “Thank you.”

  “Just doing our job. The sheriff has some questions for you, though.” He pointed his gloved finger outside toward the brown car with flashing lights. Three other fire fighters followed him out of the house and a moment later, their truck was gone.

  Bella stepped back. “Please don’t be mad, Daddy. It was an accident.”

  He crouched down to her eye level. “It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.”

  “I got hungry so I thought I’d make some popcorn. I put it in the microwave and then I went outside to check on the kittens while it popped. I don’t know what happened, but when I came back, it smelled like smoke and there was a fire inside. It should’ve been done, but it was still cooking. It only takes ninety seconds.”

  “Is it possible you hit an extra zero? Put nine minutes instead of ninety seconds?” He’d seen her do it before. “That’s why I told you not to use the stove or microwave or anything while I was gone. Didn’t I tell you that?” Panic and anger and fear wrestled inside of him. What if she’d burned down the house? Why had he been so weak that he needed to go to an AA meeting? Why couldn’t she follow simple directions? What would he have done if she’d gotten hurt?

  He reached out and hugged her. “I love you.”

  A knock at the door interrupted their embrace. Conner stood and opened the front door. Standing there was a man with a bushy beard, wearing a khaki uniform and a badge.

  Swallowing, Conner tried to hide his nerves. “Hello, officer.”

  “May I speak to you alone, sir?”

  Conner gave Bella a Don’t Worry look and stepped out on the front porch. “Sorry about all of this. I told her not to use the microwave—“

  “Where were you tonight?”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” His heart beat accelerated as he worried this was going to become an even bigger deal.

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Eight. Look, I don’t leave her home alone often, but I just had to go somewhere.”

  “Don’t you think eight is a little young to be left unsupervised?”

  Conner shook his head. “I didn’t think so, but obviously I was wrong. She’s so grown-up sometimes that I forget she can still do stupid stuff like start a fire in the microwave.”

  “I’ll ask you again. Where were you tonight?”

  Taking a deep breath, he bought some time. Telling this man that he used to have a drinking problem was not going to make him look any better. “Hey, I learned my lesson. I won’t leave my daughter alone—not even for a minute. Now, can we please just call it a night? I’d like to put her to bed. She’s pretty shook up.”

  “Which is exactly why I think this should be reported to social services.”

  Every nerve in his body exploded in panic. “No. I mean, it’s not illegal to leave an eight year old alone, is it?” His gaze landed on the man’s name badge. Officer Frankel. “Frankie?!?” He studied the man’s face. The beard obscured the guy’s acne scars, but the mischievous eyes, he recognized.

  “Do I know you?”

  “It’s me. Conner Walker.” He smiled.

  “We were in Mr. Glick’s chemistry class, junior year.” The sheriff’s expression relaxed. “Wow. I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a long time.”

  “Did they ever figure out that it was you that lit that stink bomb in the boy’s locker room?”

  Shuffling his feet, Frankie chuckled. “We both did some wild things back in the day. Like you sending Miranda Picadillo’s panties up the flag pole on Valentine’s Day.”

  “I’d almost forgotten about that.” Conner felt the urge to offer Frankie a beer, like in the good old days, but he knew better. “As I recall, you were pretty much running your parents’ farm by the time you were eight years old. Up before school, milking the cows and feeding all the animals.”

  “Yep.”

  “I bet you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to catch the microwave on fire, would ya?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But every kid’s different.”

>   “Sure, sure. Trust me, I’m not ever gonna leave Bella alone again. I’m sorry for bothering you and the fire department tonight.” He let his mind wander back to high school again. “So, did you marry Donna Parker or what? You two were stuck together like glue senior year.”

  “Yeah. Married her and we have six kids.”

  “Six? Wow. I can barely manage one, as you can see.” They both laughed.

  “Well, Donna likes babies. The problem is that babies grow up and then she finds herself wanting another one.”

  Nodding, Conner sensed that the situation had shifted for the better. Sometimes living in a small town had its advantages. “You never could say no to her.”

  Frankie chucked him on the shoulder. “Hey, I wear the pants in the family.”

  “That’s why you stayed home and watched Sex in the City with her instead of shooting pool with the guys.”

  The skin on his forehead turned pink. All of his authority had been washed away.

  “I’m just joshing ya. Obviously, you made the right choice. You two must be very happy together.”

  “What about you? Who’d you marry?”

  “A mistake.” He hoped he hadn’t said that too loud, so that Bella had heard. “Even if my marriage was a disaster, I don’t wish it’d never happened. Because then I wouldn’t have my daughter. Being a single parent isn’t as glamorous as Hollywood makes it look, though.” He smiled.

  “I can’t even imagine. Fortunately, Donna’s a dynamo with the kids. A stay-at-home mom, which is good since I have to work crazy hours, as you can see.”

  He thought about Melodie and how she wanted to remain a stay-at-home mom, too. It was a shame that she’d been thrust into single parenthood. It wasn’t her fault, either. He’d chosen poorly when he’d married, so he had to take the blame for his current situation. At least a little bit.