by Arlene James
Garrett bought the software online that evening and installed it for both his business and Jessa’s, eating pizza while doing so. Afterward, Jessa pleaded fatigue, so he took himself home, expecting to spend the whole day with her and Hunter on Sunday, starting with church. Instead, he found himself interviewing a prospective employee whom Hubner introduced to him before the worship service.
Billy Champs, the divorced father of twin preschoolers, sported several tattoos, pierced ears and a goatee, but he’d operated his own successful lawn service for years.
“The business suffered after my wife skipped out and left me with two kids to raise alone,” Billy said. “You know how it is. The kids come first, even if it means your income drops.”
Garrett deduced that Billy had struggled to meet the needs of his family and keep food on the table for nearly three years, but he was now eager to land a steadily paying job that would allow him to pick up his kids from school after they started kindergarten in the fall and spend evenings with them.
“Okay,” Garrett told him. “Why don’t you come by the nursery after lunch? We’ll talk there.”
“I’ll have to bring the kids, man, but they won’t be a problem, I promise.”
“I look forward to meeting them,” Garrett said before slipping into the worship service late.
After the service, Garrett dropped Jessa and Hunter at Willow Place then drove the triplets to Chatam House. From there, he rode the motorcycle over to a local fast-food drive-through to pick up some burritos for lunch. He, Jessa and Hunter ate on the front porch of the Monroe house, enjoying the warm day and sunshine. They hadn’t even gone inside yet when Billy and his kids showed up in a battered SUV.
“Go on,” Jessa told Garrett. “Don’t worry about us. I’m doing nothing today. This is a true day of rest for me.”
“Good,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek before walking Billy back to the nursery. While talking to him there, Garrett saw how well he managed his curious children, a girl and a boy.
They were more than a year younger than Hunter, but the three of them seemed to bond instantly and were soon outside pretending that the railroad ties which delineated the boundaries of the parking area were tightropes. Billy managed to give Garrett his attention while keeping an eye on his children at the same time. Garrett made up his mind to hire the fellow. Billy wanted to start right away, so Garrett immediately began his training. Jessa called Hunter inside to clean up for dinner and the Champs children rejoined their father, but even then Billy had questions. Garrett patiently and fully answered each one.
When Garrett went into the house to tell Jessa the good news, he found her nursing a killer headache and wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed. She professed no interest in dinner or anything else except sleep. She worried Garrett by agreeing with his suggestion that he take Hunter home with him for the night. He reluctantly left her, promising not to let Hunter out of his sight, as she anxiously demanded.
After spending the evening with the boy in the small suite, Garrett rose early on Monday morning to tend to some chores around the estate. Then he and Hunter ate breakfast at Hilda’s table and carried the same meal to Jessa. She ate mechanically, obviously distracted, but reported that her headache had, mercifully, abated. Garrett sent Hunter out to feed the cat, which had yet to put in an appearance at Chatam House again, and made her sit down at the workbench in the old butler’s pantry.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
She gazed up at him with forlorn eyes, but before she spoke, Abby Stringer called out to them from the shop. They went out to find that she had brought with her a middle-age woman named Olive, who hoped for a job.
Sighing, Jessa gave Garrett a wan smile and whispered, “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
He could believe that. “You’d better go talk to this lady then. I’ll say a prayer for you. I know you could use some help, too. We’ll talk tonight.”
Nodding, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled to himself, that kiss doing much to relieve his concern, and went out to check on Billy.
Garrett ended the day convinced that Billy was going to prove a great blessing. Jessa seemed less certain about her new helper, Olive, but was willing to give the woman a chance. She started yawning before she could give him many details. He kissed her good-night and took himself off to his bed in the carriage house, pleasantly exhausted. As he drifted toward sleep, the thought flitted through his head that they hadn’t had a private moment to talk. Both Magnolia and Bethany had counseled forthrightness, and he knew that was best. Tomorrow, he told himself, would be the day that he would tell her all. He fell asleep before his prayer for favor could fully form in his mind.
Billy had asked for and received permission to bring his kids in with him for a couple hours on Tuesday morning until their grandmother could pick them up, so Garrett knew that Hunter was playing with his new friends. Jessa, of course, would be busy at the floral shop. Garrett felt confident that he wouldn’t be missed if he took the morning to mow the front lawn at Chatam House. He started early and finished well before lunch, which gave him time to shower before heading over to Willow Tree Place with a packet of sandwiches prepared by Hilda.
He arrived, feeling that things were finally settling into a workable routine, and noticed that Olive stood out front of the floral shop with her arms folded and her toe tapping. Puzzled by that, he flipped her a little wave as he moved away from the bike toward the shop door, his bag of sandwiches in tow.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you,” she said in a low, disapproving voice. A mannish-looking woman with a square build, short grayish hair and a heavily featured face, she seemed polite but not overly friendly.
Garrett’s brow beetled. “Oh? Why is that?” he paused to ask.
“She’s got a personal customer in there.”
“A personal customer?” Garrett echoed uncertainly.
“That’s what he said when he came in. Told me to get out because he was her ‘personal customer.’”
He? “And you just left?” Garrett growled, hurrying away without waiting for an answer. Sandwiches dropping to the ground, he yanked open the door and virtually leapt through it.
A large, forty-something man with short, dark brown hair leaned across the counter, one hand closed in the front of Hunter’s T-shirt. “I’m not telling you again!” he snarled.
At the same time, Jessa cried, “Take your hands off him!”
Garrett didn’t wait to hear more. He caught the big man by the shoulder and spun him around. Gold-and-green hazel eyes glared at him from a surprisingly handsome face that was an adult version of Hunter’s. Then abruptly, the expression changed from one of angry belligerence to confident affability. Brushing Garrett’s hand from the shoulder of his expensive tailored shirt, the man shot his cuffs, straightening them so that the gold cuff links were clearly visible. Obviously, he had some means; yet his ex-wife and child had just as obviously struggled financially. Garrett’s opinion of the man dipped even lower.
“Pardon me, friend,” the fellow said, certain of his ability to charm. “You’ve stumbled into a little family drama.”
“Is that what you call it?” Garrett asked. He looked to Jessa. “Is this who I think it is?” She nodded, holding Hunter against her. So, the newspaper story has borne bitter fruit, after all. Pushing that matter aside to be dealt with later, Garrett turned back to the unwelcome intruder, who stuck out one hand.
“Wayne Harman,” he said, smiling as if this were a social occasion, “Jessa’s husband and Hunter’s dad.”
Possessiveness flared in Garrett. Jessa and Hunter were his. He parked his hands at his waist. “You mean Jessa’s abusive ex and Hunter’s so-called dad, don’t you?”
The affable mask slipped briefly, but then Harman injected just the right amount of sadne
ss into his smile. “I can’t imagine what she’s been telling you.”
“That you’re divorced for one thing.”
“That part’s true,” Harman acknowledged, looking away. “I’m not happy about it. She may be a compulsive liar, but I still love her.” Jessa gasped at that.
“And if she gives you a chance, you’ll beat those words right into her, won’t you?” Garrett retorted.
Harman gave up the pretense, slashing Garrett with a malicious glance. “Look, she stole my son from me.”
“That’s not true!” Jessa insisted. “I have full, legal custody of Hunter.”
“You know that court hearing wasn’t fair!” Harman shouted. “They didn’t even give me visitation rights!”
“In other words,” Garrett said, “you have absolutely no right to be here.”
“Back off, buddy!” Harman bawled, taking a menacing step forward. “This is none of your business.”
“Ah, there’s the real Wayne Harman,” Garrett drawled, standing his ground. “Charm doesn’t work, so next you try intimidation. Well, that doesn’t cut it with me, either. Get out, and get out now.”
Suddenly, Harman threw a punch. Evading that easily, Garrett simply opened his arms and let Harman propel himself into them before throwing them both backward through the door and out onto the ground. He didn’t want any scuffle to tear up Jessa’s shop, and he hoped that public scrutiny, however slight, would calm Harman, but he’d forgotten about Olive, who screamed like she’d been stabbed and scrambled out of the way. Garrett rolled and came to his feet, prepared to offer Harman a hand up.
Enraged, Wayne Harman slapped Garrett’s hand away then staggered to his feet and charged. Garrett popped him on the chin, but the big man shook it off and came back for more. Garrett had no choice but to oblige. It was that or take a beating that would leave Jessa and Hunter even more vulnerable than before. He put every lesson he’d ever learned about eliminating a threat to good use, and he was the only one standing some minutes later when the cops arrived.
Hearing the siren well before the squad car appeared, Garrett turned toward the drive with a sinking feeling. Olive waved energetically at the street, her cell phone in her hand. Obviously, she’d called 911. Gasping for breath, Garrett wiped his bloody lip on his sleeve before turning toward the shop. Jessa and Hunter stood in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, his heart sinking. “The Chatams never intended to hurt anyone with that story. I hoped it would go unnoticed.”
“I know,” she replied in a small voice. “Me, too.”
Her wary gaze snapped to Harman as he groaned and rolled to his hands and knees. He glanced at the two city police officers, who stood talking to an excitedly chattering Olive. Garrett nodded at Billy as he came out of the nursery to see what was going on. Garrett needed the other man’s help in a big way now. His blood chilled as the enormity of his situation hit him. It was so easy to forget the conditions of his parole when his contact with the past consisted of a once-monthly phone call.
Feet crunched on gravel as the officers approached. Harman took the opportunity to collapse on the ground as if lethally wounded and point at Garrett.
“That guy attacked me!”
“That’s not true!” Jessa cried, pointing at Harman. “Wayne threw the first punch! And he’s here in defiance of a court order.”
“I have a right to see my son!” Harman growled.
“Not according to the court,” Jessa said, clasping Hunter against her as if fearing Harman would yet try to steal him. “We have a protective order against him.”
One officer went to Harman and pulled him to his feet, while the other approached Garrett. “You know the drill,” he said.
Shamed, Garrett grit his teeth and turned his back, putting his hands together behind him, while the officer recited his Miranda rights.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Jessa again. “I’m so sorry.”
The cold bite of steel at both wrists nearly brought him to his knees, but he nodded when asked if he understood his rights. His only consolation was seeing Harman also being fitted with handcuffs. Suddenly, Jessa was at his side. Garrett looked down at her. Too late. The words echoed through his mind. Too late. Too late. He’d left it all too late.
“I didn’t want it to happen like this,” he began.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. Looking to the officer, she reiterated the point. “It wasn’t his fault! I told you, Wayne threw the first punch.”
“Like that matters to this one,” the officer scoffed, taking Garrett by the arm. “Just can’t resist the violence, can you, Willows? Looks like prison would’ve tamed that tendency. But, no, it probably made it worse.”
“Prison!” Jessa gasped, falling back.
Grief swamped Garrett. Why hadn’t he told her, explained? Why did she have to find out this way?
“I was going to tell you,” he began.
At the same time, the policeman asked, “You didn’t know? He nearly beat a man to death. Served, what, less than eight of a twenty-year sentence?”
Garrett didn’t bother answering that. What difference did it make?
Jessa stepped back, shock rounding her eyes and mouth. She shook her head then clamped a hand over her mouth. She felt sick to her stomach
“Jess!” Garrett cried, trying to reach out to her, but the cop yanked him toward the patrol car. “Jessa!” As he was dragged past Olive, he angrily ordered, “Go take care of her!”
Her heavily featured face registered fear, as if she expected him to attack her. Then the officer shoved Garrett into the patrol car, and she finally tottered off toward Jessa. Garrett crammed his too-large feet into the tiny space allotted for them behind the heavy mesh screen separating front seat from back and lifted his hands to the small of his back to make sitting bearable. The door closed, and he pressed his face to the window glass, watching as Jessa retched into the bushes beneath the shop window and Olive awkwardly patted her shoulder while Hunter looked on worriedly.
“Oh, God, help her,” Garrett prayed, his eyes filling. “Please help them both!”
He quickly sniffed back his tears as Harman dropped onto the seat next to him from the opposite side of the car. Harman alternately blamed and threatened him while the officer walked around to the passenger seat, but Garrett kept his eyes on Jessa. The other policeman took brief statements from Olive, Jessa and Hunter, while his partner waited in the car with the arrested men and Harman complained about everything from his discomfort to the court system. Garrett caught Billy’s eye and took some comfort in his encouraging nod.
The second cop got in behind the steering wheel and started the engine, turning the car forward into the parking area before backing it around onto the drive again. Garrett tried to make eye contact with Jessa, but not only would she not look at him, she made Hunter turn away, too. Garrett closed his eyes.
“Ex con or ex-husband,” Wayne sneered, “wonder which one of us will see her next?”
“You go near her again,” Garrett said dully, “and I won’t be the only convicted felon she knows. Cops here have you on their radar now.”
That shut him up finally. Garrett could only pray that it would be enough to keep her and Hunter safe. Once more, it seemed, he had wasted his heroics and ruined everything that he most wanted to protect.
Chapter Fourteen
She couldn’t believe it. Jessa sat numbly on the stool at the counter, trying to make sense of what had happened and all she’d heard, while Olive babbled in the background.
“I knew it was him. I knew he was that boy that took the baseball bat to his step-daddy, so naturally I called 9-1-1 right away.” She went on about Garrett’s mother and the tragedy of her death, but Jessa couldn’t bear to hear any more and shut out the so
und of the other woman’s voice. Garrett’s new hire, Billy, came in.
“What happened?”
“He lied to me,” she heard herself saying.
Hunter placed a hand on her arm and laid his head on her lap. She pulled him up until his head lay on her shoulder. After a moment, he began to sob.
“He lied to us,” she said, patting his back.
“Will he come back?” Hunter asked in a small, tight voice.
“Wayne?”
“Garrett!”
“I—I don’t know.”
“But what if Daddy comes back?” Hunter sobbed.
“We’ll call the police,” she said, trying to reassure him.
“I want Garrett,” he wailed.
But Garrett had lied to them.
She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea of Garrett serving a prison sentence, but the policeman had said he’d probably violated his parole.
Did the Chatams know? she wondered. But of course they knew! And in their gentle, perfect, well-heeled world they had forgiven and overlooked and carried on, never having to consider what harm such violence could do.
Jessa closed her eyes. What had she done? She’d tried to protect her son from one abusive man only to expose him to a dangerously violent one. And she’d broken her own heart in the process.
“God forgive me,” she whispered, though she knew that she would never forgive herself. She couldn’t even think about forgiving Garrett.
All she could do, she told herself dully, was somehow carry on. She was good at that. She had lots of practice at going on as if nothing horrible had happened. She still had Hunter, after all, and she still had the shop. Wayne was locked away, and Garrett… Garrett could take care of himself.