by Ivy James
“Ashley, don’t be scared—”
“Scared? Scared is having the police show up on my doorstep claiming my handyman is a murderer!” Her voice shook, her hands. Her entire body. Joe wondered how she still managed to stay on her feet she trembled so badly.
“Give me a chance—”
“Every time I close my eyes I see her sweet little face. I can’t get her out of my head!”
He knew the feeling. Not that he ever wanted to rid himself of Josie’s memory.
“You killed her!”
“No.” His hands fisted. His stomach churned. Joe fought back the urge to puke, his thoughts on the day he’d come there looking for his father’s things and saw her on the stairs with Max.
“Get out.”
“Now, missy—”
“Get out!”
Joe couldn’t move, his feet rooted to the spot while hurt lanced deep, stronger and more painful than the shiv slashing through his body.
She ran toward him then, fists raised, but he still didn’t move because he deserved every smack and slap Ashley gave him as she tried to push him back out the door. Deserved them for not telling Ashley the truth. For not being able to save Josie.
Wilson followed them, tossed his walker aside and grabbed hold of Ashley, his old wrinkled hands smoothing down her arms as he tried to calm her down. Joe couldn’t look at the old man. All he could do was stare into Ashley’s pain-filled, betrayed expression and blame himself.
The old man nearly lost his balance when Ashley pulled away from him, her breath rushing in and out of her chest in ragged gasps. Tears trickled unheeded down her cheeks.
Once again Joe pictured her as she was last night in the shed, so beautiful, and now, so heart-broken. He’d done that to her.
“Joe, take a walk,” Wilson ordered. “Go for a drive. Come back in awhile when we’ve had a chance to talk things out.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ashley insisted, establishing some distance between herself and them.
Before Joe’s eyes her barriers went up, and she was once again the kid from the orphanage, one of the mutts no one wanted. He saw it in her stance. Her expression. No matter what was said now, she wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t believe that he wanted her and Max more than he wanted his next breath.
“You are leaving,” she growled, her voice hoarse and thready. “You’re fired, you hear me? You’re done!”
Wilson frowned and he raised a hand in exasperation and motioned to Joe. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy, tell her. Explain! Show her you care!”
Ashley’s laugh revealed her thoughts, and he knew exactly what she was thinking, remembering. And the relief on her face that things had been interrupted before they could make love completely made his heart ache.
He stepped forward, deliberately placing himself in smacking range again. Then waited until she stopped glaring at Wilson long enough to focus on him. “I didn’t hurt Josie. I swear to you, Ashley, I didn’t.”
Her eyes filled with tears once more. “The police and your prison record say differently,” she choked out before she turned and stomped from the room. “Get your stuff and get out of my house before I do what he asked and call him to come get you.”
* * *
ASHLEY RAN UPSTAIRS and plucked Max from his crib. She held him close, Josie’s image in her head. That image changed to a tiny casket and she shuddered in fear. Max protested her hold with a whimper.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t know.”
She paced the floor of her bedroom, unable to sit still, then peeked outside to make sure the hall was clear before hurrying down the stairs and out the door with Max in her arms.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d identified Joe as a bad boy as soon as he’d walked into her kitchen, confirmed it when she’d commented on his tattoo and he’d admitted to being in prison, and yet she’d allowed Wilson to wave away her concerns over his references and Joe to— Well, to charm her with his quiet manners and haunted good looks.
Murder.
Murder. Hal York had explained it all. But what had really shocked her beyond Joe’s act of shaking his baby girl to death, earning a manslaughter charge, was learning Josie’s mother was none other than Melissa York. There was a connection she’d never have otherwise put together. Joe and Melissa.
She moaned and used one hand to wipe away the annoying tears trickling down her cheeks. Her heart ached for the woman. To have been so young, practically a baby herself, when she’d lost her little girl. And now cancer? Sometimes life just didn’t make sense.
Ashley raised her head and groaned when she discovered she’d walked to the shed. Memories bombarded her. Joe’s touch, his whispered words, the revealing look on his face as he’d climaxed.
It was a conspiracy. Everyone knew about Joe, about what was going on. Everyone but her.
Joe was packing now, would be gone soon. Then what? With Joe gone the repairs on her house would stop, but who cared? Max would be safe.
From a man who said he didn’t do it?
“Every criminal says they didn’t do it,” she mumbled to Max, moving to the dock. She sat down and placed Max on her lap, remembering how she’d lain awake last night dreaming of Joe making love to her.
“Oh, Max, didn’t I learn anything from watching the delinquents going in and out of the home? They lied. They cheated. They did whatever it took to stay one step ahead of the game. Joe’s no different.”
Or maybe he’s telling the truth.
She shook her head, glad that Max was content with simply being outdoors, since she was doing well to breathe on her own after everything she’d learned. Ashley pressed her palm to her pounding head while Max gurgled out a long line of gibberish.
Josie.
How could anyone hurt a child like that?
Something cold brushed her arm and she turned with a gasp to find the stray mutt staring at them, mouth open, its body hunched low as though unsure of its welcome.
She fought her panic and eyed the dog’s big, sharp teeth, concentrated instead on its wagging tail. That was a good thing. Right?
She grabbed Max’s hand when he reached out for the animal. “Max, no!” The dog’s ears quirked up at her voice and his head lowered even more. “Go on. Go away!”
The dog hunched lower, its stomach nearly dragging the deck.
“I’m not in the mood for you today, dog, so go.”
It whimpered pitifully.
“Go! Go on, go!” She turned her back to the dog and made sure Max kept his hands to himself. She didn’t think the dog was harmful, but who knew? She hadn’t thought Joe was harmful, either.
The dog whimpered again and its nails scratched along the planks. She glanced over her shoulder and found sad brown eyes watching her from where it lay. She turned back to the water, to the trees, and tried to find the peace this spot had always brought her before.
Before Joe. Before falling in love. Before learning she was a lousy judge of character.
Scratch, scratch.
Ashley glanced back and saw the dog crawl until it was close enough to press its cold doggy nose against her leg. When she didn’t say anything, its gaze flicked to hers briefly before it released another whimper and belly-scooted another inch or two. This time it had the nerve to lay its head alongside her knee, near Max.
Seemingly satisfied, the dog didn’t move, although Ashley had a hard time keeping Max from reaching for the animal with both hands.
Just as he’d reach for Joe.
The tears came again. She’d loved her husband, but she’d never felt their lovemaking as strongly as she had when she was with Joe. Never felt such pleasure at the simple act of giving pleasure. Never imagined falling in love with a murderer.
Still, she wouldn’t be one of those needy, desperate women willing to risk everything just to keep from being alone.
I didn’t hurt Josie. I swear to you, I didn’t.
She kissed Max’s
head. “I’ll protect you, bugaboo. Don’t worry. Joe will be long gone when we get back.”
And she’d miss him.
* * *
JOE WASN’T GONE when she got back to the house. She’d crossed the distance with her loping shadow following her, and spied Joe’s large form on the back porch. Angry, she carried Max through the front door instead and was about to take him upstairs to his crib before confronting Joe when Wilson appeared.
“Don’t go runnin’ away again.”
Her spine stiffened. “I’m not running anywhere, Wilson.”
“What are you doin’ then?” the old man pressed. “We’ve been waitin’ on you so we could talk to you.”
And she recognized an ambush when she saw one. “Why is he still here?”
“Joe’s workin’. He got a late start on the ramp, but he’s trying to get it done before the rain hits later in the week.”
Joe was still working? She wasn’t sure what to make of that. If she could make anything of it at all. “I told him to leave. He should’ve been gone by now.”
“Well, if you thought that you ain’t as smart as I told him you were.” Wilson wagged a finger at her. “Now don’t go givin’ me the evil eye. Ain’t gonna do you no good.”
“Lucky me.”
The old man chuckled. “There you go. Gettin’ back to your old self now that you’ve had some time to think things through.”
The laugh erupting from her chest was anything but amused. “That’s right. I’ve thought things through and know my ordering Joe to leave was the right decision to make, and if you don’t like it,” she continued, raising her voice when Wilson opened his mouth to argue, “tough! This is my home, Wilson. You sold it to me, I own it. The deed says so.”
Wilson stared at her, his expression disappointed. She hated that he looked at her like that.
“Then Joe can stay with me in my rooms down here.”
“No, he can’t. Wilson, please—”
His brows rose even as his mouth turned down in a scowl. “You cain’t tell me who can stay with me and who can’t. That weren’t part of our bargain. I say he’s stayin’. Now, you fixin’ anything for dinner?”
The gall of the man astounded her, and Ashley knew she wouldn’t gain any ground with him in the mood he was in. Emotions ran too high. She ignored Wilson as best she could and stalked to the stairs.
“Now, missy—”
“Don’t ‘now missy’ me,” she said, pausing at the bottom. “I’ve had it up to here—” she made a slashing motion with her hand “—with all the down home, countrified, good ole boy talk about belonging and family and loyalty and—and crap! It’s bogus, Wilson! I’ve cooked for you, cleaned for you, taken care of you after your hip replacement despite the terms of our agreement, and in return you lie to me?” Her voice cracked, thickened with tears she tried to control. Max picked up on her upset and began to fuss, and Ashley bounced him with a quieting murmur.
“I never lied to you. I didn’t tell you about Joe’s past ’cause it’s done and over and he didn’t do it anyway.”
She stared in open-mouthed shock. “So that makes it okay? You should be on my side!”
“Ain’t about sides, missy. It’s about right and wrong. The boy didn’t—”
“Don’t,” Joe said quietly. He walked down the hall toward them, his boots thudding gently on the wood floors. “Leave it alone, Wilson. She’s angry with me so let her talk to me.”
Still bouncing Max, she shook her head. “Not likely. I have nothing to say to you, you lying—”
“I never lied to you.”
“Gee, where have I heard that before?” she growled with another glance at Wilson’s pouting face. “You neglected to tell me a crucial part of your history. What’s the difference between that and lying?”
“Sounds like you got more to say to him than you think,” Wilson muttered. “I’ll just go on in there and sit a spell.”
Ashley stared at Joe and wished she could read his mind. Then she remembered the feel of his hands on her and all she’d told him, shared with him. Her tone softened, but not her resolve. “I understand what it’s like to want a second chance, Joe, but for Max’s sake, it can’t be here.”
“I didn’t hurt her.” His face darkened, and his glance slid to where Wilson had disappeared, then back to her before he stepped close. Ashley fought the instinctive urge to back away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You cut me off that day in my room and I let you. I let you because I didn’t want you looking at me the way you are right now. I should have told you last night, but,” he closed his eyes briefly, “things were going so well I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You mean you were about to get laid,” she murmured, “and you didn’t want to risk it not happening.”
He took another step toward her and it was everything she could do to hold her ground. Not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to believe him, but knew better.
“If you’ll remember I still could have been laid,” he growled out, “after you put Max to bed. But I heard you talking to Max and I knew I couldn’t let things go further without your knowing the truth. Ashley, I told you last night I wouldn’t walk away from you. What we have—”
“We have nothing. It—everything I thought we had—was all a lie.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “You said you loved me.”
Ashley couldn’t help it, she snickered, laughing at the irony of the situation. Yeah, she’d said that. She’d finally found someone who’d seemed to care for her, someone who worked hard and helped her toward her dream. She’d even gone one further and fallen in love with him and what did she have to show for it?
A murderer stood in her house.
“What if our situations were reversed, Joe? What if I were a nanny or maid or something and you hired me to work in your house only to find out—”
“It was a mistake. My mistake. I should’ve told you right from the beginning. I didn’t and I’m sorry, but try to understand why I didn’t.”
“Because you’re a murderer!”
Joe flinched at her glib tone, and Ashley felt more than a hint of shame.
“Because you didn’t know me well enough to know I wasn’t.”
She still didn’t. “All of this has made me realize I don’t know you at all. I thought I did, but you’ve proven me very, very wrong.”
Joe’s face resembled stone. A muscle twitched along his jaw, before his attention dropped to Max. Her arms tightened protectively.
“Fine. You want nothing to do with me. I get that. But until I get this house to where you can handle the rest of the restoration yourself, I’m staying…as Wilson’s guest if nothing else.”
She shook her head firmly. “No way. The police were here, remember? I don’t want children’s services showing up and claiming I’m endangering Max because you’re here.”
Even though he’d never been alone with Max? Had taken pains to avoid him knowing full well this conversation would take place eventually? Had Joe deliberately kept his distance, not because of Josie, but because of Max and how she’d feel right now?
Joe ran a hand over his head, his face. “Look, believe it or not no one wanted to hurt you. Wilson and I, we just wanted to give you a chance to get to know me. So you’d see I could never harm a child.”
“The chief told me all about the evidence.”
“I’ll bet he did,” he muttered wearily.
Ashley stared at him, lost in the depths of Joe’s eyes and wondering how he could sound so sincere if he were lying.
Good liars lie well.
And honest people spoke the truth with a conviction that matched Joe’s.
Wilson came back into the hall then, making her think he’d only slid around the corner and been eavesdropping the entire time. “We can go round and round if you want, missy, but it comes down to this—if you want to open by spring, you need help and Joe’s it. Everything else aside, you make Joe leave and you c
an kiss your business and Max’s future goodbye.”
She silently pleaded with the old man to understand. She wasn’t the bad guy, Joe was! But she saw no softening in Wilson’s gaze. No, as far as sides went, Wilson was definitely on Joe’s.
She swallowed, furious, disillusioned. More tired than she’d ever been in her life.
“If you didn’t hurt your daughter, who did?” she asked bluntly.
Joe shook his head, his blue eyes bleak and pained. “I don’t know. But I confronted Melissa the other day, which is probably why the restraining order was issued.”
“You think she shook her baby to death?” She didn’t know Melissa York at all, but she just couldn’t imagine the woman doing something so horrible. Besides she’d read enough baby books cover to cover to know most incidents of shaken baby syndrome were almost always caused by the father, usually in his teens or early twenties, and inexperienced with child care.
Like Joe.
But Joe had never once shown signs of temper or anger when Max cried. If anyone had, it was her.
So what now?
“If you want to keep your job, you’ll have to find somewhere else to live,” she murmured finally, her voice hoarse.
“Now, missy—”
“I’ll move into the shed,” Joe readily agreed. “I’ve slept in worse. I need to save my cash since Pop’s getting out of the nursing home soon.”
She ignored the despair in his tone, ignored the shaming glance Wilson sent her. “You can take bedding and towels. One of the twin mattresses. There’s already a shower,” she said, trying to get the mental image of Joe using the outside shower from her head. “I’ll…I’ll fix your meals and all that like we agreed. It’s the best compromise I can offer that will allow you to stay and still keep the chief of police from siccing children’s services on me.”
“It’s fine.”
“And Max is off—”
“Now, missy—”
“I’ll keep my distance.”
Ashley stared at Joe, hurt, torn, numb and yet not nearly numb enough. “Good,” she said before turning her back on him and hurrying up the stairs, placing her cheek to Max’s head to hide her tears. “Make sure that you do.”