Brody's Redemption

by Kay Lyons

  Footsteps and the low murmur of Ashley’s voice pulled his thoughts from the past. Joe turned, and in an instant, shock and nausea battled for control.

  He stared at the sleepy-eyed baby boy on Ashley Cade’s hip, all the while conscious that Wilson took in his every blink and reaction.

  “Did you do what?”

  * * *

  ASHLEY WASN’T SURE what she’d walked into, but the tension in the air led her to believe it was more serious than the condition of her aging kitchen pipes.

  “Did you do what?” she repeated.

  “Lock the wrench I left outside by the pump. If it’s not tight and comes loose off that valve, it’ll leak again.” Wilson nodded firmly and jerked his head in Joe Brody’s direction. “My Maddy knew Joe’s mother, God rest their souls. And I got to know Ted in the hospital. You know that?”

  “No, I—”

  “Told Joe that was good enough for me. And he can carpenter, plumb and roof. Cain’t turn away a man who can do all that.”

  Irritated that Wilson had promised Joe the job without her permission, she frowned. “What about electrical work?”

  “Now you cain’t expect a man to—”

  “I’m a certified electrician.”

  Wilson’s brows rose as though he were impressed by that bit of news, and she had a hard time curbing her own desire to jump up and down.

  Joe Brody was too good to be true. A gift sent straight from above. But if he’s so well-trained, why was he willing to work for a pittance?

  “References,” she blurted suddenly. “I need references. Do you have people who’ll vouch for you? Places I could maybe go to see your work?”

  “Now I done told you, Ashley, I know his parents. There’s no call for pesterin’ people. I’ve already warned him there’ll be no slackin’ off. Besides, Joe here’s not like those contractors that take your money and leave you high and dry. He’s good stock.”

  Her arms stiffened protectively around Max. Living with Wilson the last six months, she’d grown to trust him and he’d yet to steer her wrong, but by referring to Joe as good stock, Wilson had hit a sore spot.

  An outsider to Taylorsville, she knew exactly what the term meant to the townspeople as far as whether or not they’d claim a person as one of their own. And with her big-city license tags, good stock she wasn’t. Nor was she related through blood or marriage as Wilson had already pointed out once today.

  “How’s my boy?” Wilson continued, wagging a finger in Max’s direction. “You gotta stop keepin’ your mama up at night, youngun. She’s gonna fall asleep in her cereal one of these days.”

  Ashley used Max as an excuse to distance herself. She smoothed her hand over her son’s sleep-flushed cheek and kissed his forehead as she moved farther into the kitchen.

  Once she’d securely buckled Max inside his high chair and adjusted the tray into place, she added his favorite toys looped together with hard plastic rings and attached them to the chair so they wouldn’t fall to the floor.

  That done, she turned her attention back to the room. Joe stood broom in hand, stock-still, staring at Max like he’d never seen a baby before in his life.

  “This is my son,” she said by way of introduction. “Max, short for Maxwell Allen Cade, the second.”

  “Named after his father,” Wilson supplied needlessly.

  “And this, little man, is Joe. Can you say ‘Joe’?”

  In response, Max blew a slobber bubble and shook two chubby fists in the air, his mouth wide as he drooled. Ashley laughed softly, captivated as always by her baby’s every action, and grateful for the distraction where her new employee was concerned.

  She faced Joe, prepared to get down to business, then laughed again. Her earlier embarrassment receded when she noted his discomfort. “Relax, I don’t expect you to babysit or change diapers. Now, you ready to talk terms while we clean this up?”

  * * *

  HAL YORK ENTERED his home and quietly shut the door behind him, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Ever since he’d walked into the diner this morning after a call from the manager, he’d been in a surly mood. Snapped at his officers and barked out orders that had reduced more than one of his civilian help to tears.

  But seeing Joe Brody sitting there at the diner’s bar drinking coffee had pissed him off like nothing ever had. How could he not be mad when the justice system he’d spent his life serving had let him down?

  Time served. In his opinion Joe had deserved the death penalty.

  A life for a life.

  Instead, he’d gotten three meals a day and satellite television. An exercise yard where the tall, scrawny kid he’d known had turned into a formidable man, stronger than before thanks to the workout equipment provided. Where was the justice in that?

  He dropped his hat onto the kitchen table and made his way down the hall. He paused at Melissa’s room and peered inside to find his daughter’s eyes open but unseeing as she stared blankly at the television.

  Hal rapped softly on the door and forced a smile when she turned her head and caught sight of him. She looked bad. Really bad.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Fine. Been a rough morning?” Melissa asked, her voice raspy from lack of use.

  He stepped into her bedroom and ambled over to the side of her bed. “Just hectic.”

  Her brow raised, or at least what would have been her brow had the hair covering the muscle and skin still been there. Thanks to chemo and steroids, Melissa’s face was smooth and more rounded than usual.

  “Mrs. Morris brought over chicken and dumplings for lunch. They’re in the fridge.”

  “You eat?”

  She inhaled and sighed. “I’m not really hungry today.”

  “So you were sick again? Mel, you’ve got to keep some food down or else—”

  “When were you going to tell me, Dad?”

  He tried to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “Tell you what?”

  Melissa frowned at him. “Mrs. Morris couldn’t wait to tell me Joe was back in town. Did you know he was coming?”

  “Nosy busybody.” He stalked away from the bed to the window overlooking the backyard. “No, I didn’t know.”

  “But he is here? In town?”

  Hal could still picture her out there. His baby girl, pigtails flying as she pumped her legs to swing higher, faster.

  “Not anymore. I ordered him to leave. Last I saw of him he was headed out with his duffel over his shoulder. My boys are keeping an eye out for him.”

  “Why?”

  Incredulous, he turned to face her. “You’re asking me why I ran a murderer out of my town? Away from the people I’ve sworn to protect?”

  Melissa flinched at his tone. She managed to keep her tears at bay although he could tell by the redness rimming her eyes and coloring the tip of her nose, they were close. Tears were the norm these days. Expected and understandable. He knew the routine well, having been through breast cancer with her mother before she’d lost the battle.

  He shoved the helplessness away. God’s will be done. He had to remember that. It just didn’t make it any easier.

  “What…did he say?”

  He ran a hand over the muscles beginning to spasm in his neck. “Don’t you worry—”

  “Dad, what did he say? I have every right to know, now tell me.”

  He stared out at the empty yard. How he wished Melissa’s mother was alive and she and Mel were both healthy. Wished his little girl had never fallen in love with Joe.

  “He didn’t say much,” he answered honestly. “Just drank his cup of coffee at the diner and got up and left like I told him. Heard from George Thompson he’d been in looking for a job. A few others said the same thing. Everybody in town turned him down.”

  “Poor Joe—”

  “Poor Joe?” Hal cursed. He closed his eyes and pictured the little girl he’d held within moments of her birth. “She’d be ten, Mel. Ten. I can’t pass the school w
hen it’s being dismissed because seeing those girls makes me wonder what she would’ve looked like. Who would’ve been her friend.”

  A sob brought him out of his rant and he turned to find Melissa’s face buried in her hands, shoulders quaking. He moved back over to her bed and sat on the edge. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said— Mel, don’t cry.”

  She shook her head firmly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry. If I could only change—”

  “What?” he murmured. “None of us knew. I’m a lawman and didn’t suspect Joe could do something like that. But it’ll be all right. Everything will be all right,” he soothed, even though they both knew good and well it could go either way. Just like it had with her mother.

  Please, God, please don’t take her, too.

  Hal pulled his daughter into his arms and held her for a while, rocked her back and forth on the bed like he had when she was little and she’d had a bad dream.

  After a bit Mel pulled herself together and he kissed the top of her head, then gently pushed her away from him with his hands at her shoulders. Once she relaxed against her pillow, he grabbed a tissue from the box by her bed and handed it to her.

  “Dry your eyes and blow your nose. I’m going to go heat up some of those dumplings for us.”

  She did as she was told, sniffling. Silent. But he could see her mind working. See her remembering. “No more worries, Mel. I’ll take care of Joe Brody.”

  Because if he ever comes near you again, I’ll kill him myself.

  * * *

  ONCE THE WORST of the water was off the floor, Ashley continued to mop and dry the aged wood while Joe got to work under the sink. He welcomed the task since it gave him the opportunity to distance himself from his memories of Josie.

  He knew he should speak up then and there, tell Ashley the truth before she found out some other way, but something held him back. Maybe it was the expression on the old man’s face that warned him to remain quiet until they could finish their conversation. Maybe it was the fear of losing the only job someone had been willing to give him.

  Or maybe it was Max himself.

  Joe shifted beneath the sink, the damp towels beneath his back bunching at his neck as Max’s and Josie’s faces blended.

  Josie had been younger than Max when she died. Only two months, and so tiny since she’d been born premature, but in Max’s face he saw his little girl. Big, soulful eyes surrounded by a sweetness and innocence that drew him in and reminded him of all the good in the world.

  “Do you, um, need anything?”

  The wrench slipped from his fingers and landed in the center of his chest with a painful thud.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Joe angled his head until he could see Ashley’s anxious face outside the cabinet. “No problem. It’s hard to keep a good grip when it’s wet.”

  He thought he heard her mutter “Don’t I know it” under her breath. She hesitated, then squatted down next to his hips as he lay with his head and upper body under the sink. His blood heated and the image of her in the wet T-shirt flashed through his mind and obliterated all attempt at control. Where was her husband?

  She must be the one in charge of restoring the house, but he wouldn’t be having such a difficult time if he could see them together.

  “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

  “No.” He caught himself, and smiled wryly. “I mean, yes, I do—and no, thanks, I don’t need anything.”

  Her tongue swept out over her full lower lip and drew his gaze there. Wet, moist, she had lips made to be kissed. Sort of like that actress Angel or Angeline. What was her name?

  “It’s past lunch time. Nearly two-thirty. You want to take a break and eat a sandwich?”

  His stomach rumbled at the suggestion, but that reaction was nothing compared to what he felt when she smiled at his loud response.

  Get a grip, Brody. Don’t screw this up by fantasizing about your boss. Your married boss.

  “Mayonnaise or mustard?”

  “Mustard.”

  “You makin’ lunch, missy?” Wilson called from the room located off the kitchen. “Gonna starve that boy, if not.”

  “Lunch is coming, Wilson, just be patient.”

  Joe returned her smile with a tense one of his own. “He’s a hoot.”

  “Yeah, he is. He sort of came with the house, and now I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  Joe took the opening she presented. “He’s related to your husband?”

  Another small shake of her head. “No.”

  Ashley Cade didn’t offer up any more information than asked, much the same as he’d learned to do while behind bars. But the comparison made him question her past and wonder what experiences had created the need to keep to herself.

  “Wilson’s sort of an adopted grandfather. We broke down as we drove through town and Wilson helped us out. Long story short, he found out I wanted to open a B and B and we’ve been here ever since.”

  “But…he’s still living here.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, he is. That was part of the deal. In exchange for selling us the house dirt cheap, we agreed to let him stay as long as he was able to care for himself.”

  He raised a brow. “And when he got hurt?”

  “You mean his hip?” She waved a hand in the general direction of the living room. “Oh, that’s no big deal. He’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”

  He stared at her, curious. No big deal? It certainly was to some. How many people would care for an elderly man who wasn’t a relative? She might keep to herself, but Ashley Cade had a soft heart.

  He shifted beneath the cabinet, guilt plaguing him. “What about your other plans? Where were you going when you broke down?”

  Another shrug. “Mac and I always wanted to get out of the city and raise a family someplace quiet. Taylorsville is as good as any other Mayberry.”

  Mayberry. The remark alone said a lot. She obviously had preconceived notions of small towns. A lot of people did. Small towns were great. Filled with folks with big hearts and generous souls.

  But small towns were also filled with problems, and it was hard to start a life, or rebuild one, when everybody thought they knew your business better than you.

  “I’ll go get those sandwiches.”

  She stood and from his position beneath the cabinet, Joe watched as she walked away. Unable to help himself, he stared, appreciating the slow sway of her hips until she left his line of vision.

  Where was her husband?

  Joe clenched his jaw. It was none of his business. She obviously wasn’t a clingy woman who depended on her husband to take care of things at the house.

  He shook his head at his wandering thoughts, and got back to work gluing and reattaching the pipes. Once everything was in place, he got out from beneath the cabinet.

  “I’ll let that set for a bit while I eat and then test it,” he informed her as he got to his feet.

  Ashley whirled around, her eyes widening comically as she took in the kitchen’s now spotlessly clean and dry floor.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the pressure low until I know for sure it’ll hold. That way there’ll be no more floods.”

  “Oh.”

  A guilty expression played across her face and made him wonder if she’d caused the flood by blasting the pressure.

  “Oh, yeah, of course. I knew that.” She hesitated briefly before she returned to making the sandwiches, waving the mustard-covered butter knife in his direction. “You can use the baby wipes over there to wash up since there’s no water. And there’s antibacterial gel, too, if you can’t get the gunk off.”

  Her words prompted a glance down at his hands. Grime and glue coated his fingers and despite his unwillingness to use the items, he walked over to the container and opened the lid.

  Memories bombarded him as the scent of baby powder filled the air. Lost in thought, he pulled out several wipes, his mind
spiraling back in time to impossibly soft skin and sweet baby noises. The papery sound of diapers. Gurgles and trusting little eyes.

  God help him, he missed her. And he hated himself for letting Josie down. For not being the father he should’ve been when she needed him most.

  “Here you go.”

  Joe punched the pop-up lid closed with a snap and tossed the now shredded towelettes in the wastebasket sitting on the counter out of flood range. He inhaled the baby-scented air and found Ashley holding a loaded plate with two sandwiches, chips and a slice of pickle on the side. He stared at it, his appetite gone even though he’d been starving minutes earlier.

  “I hope turkey is all right. I’ll make you something else if you like, but I’ve got to warn you all I have at the moment is bologna.”

  “Turkey’s fine.” He reached for the plate.

  “Iced tea?”

  He nodded again and she hurried to pull a glass from a nearby cabinet.

  “Wilson, you want a tray?”

  “No, missy, I’m a-coming.” Wilson appeared in the doorway, his knuckles white as he gripped his walker for the next step. Distracted, Ashley poured the tea and handed the nearly full glass to Joe, frowning as she watched the old man’s progress. “You’ve been up a lot today. Better take it easy or you’ll pay for it tomorrow.”

  Wilson ignored her and continued on into the room. “Max is playing with a chew thing and drooling all over hisself. Never seen a youngun water so much. He’s gettin’ fussy, too.”

  “I hope that tooth comes in soon,” she said as she quickly loaded a second plate with food. “And it’s his lunchtime. Maybe he’ll settle down with a bottle and take a nice long nap.”

  She hurried around Wilson and placed the plate on the kitchen table before pulling out the closest chair for the old man to sit down. That done, she hurried back to get another glass of tea.

  “Here’s your iced tea and, please, go easy on the sugar. I’ve already warmed a bottle, so I’ll feed Max and try to get him to sleep while you two eat.” Ashley grabbed a bottle from the counter next to the stove and disappeared into the living room as her son’s fussy whimpers turned into full-fledged cries.