SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One)

by Jerri Corgiat

  “Walter.”

  Walter Wart-nose. She swallowed the hysterical giggle which threatened. “Well. Thank you, Walter, for picking me up.”

  “No problem.”

  For a short while, they drove in silence. Walter slowly took the most direct route, giving her a chance to search side streets, but she didn’t catch sight of a single red pompom. The wind buffeted the car. She pictured Melanie doggedly slogging through the snow, slight body bent against the elements, only her coat for protection. Hopefully, she’d taken her coat. “Oh, God. She just has to be all right.”

  Awkwardly, Wart-nose—Walter—reached over and patted her hand. Surprised, she looked at him.

  His thin eyebrows raised under a greasy lock of hair. “What? Think I don’t have feelings?” He put his hand back on the wheel. “It’s a livin,’ you know? Nothin’ personal. Matter of fact, I have three kids at home.”

  She didn’t answer, her mind refusing to reconcile the nosy photographer with an upright family man of three.

  “Yeah,” he continued. “And I can tell you, they’re better off living on a shoestring than those two kids of yours are.”

  She shoved her hair back, gaze still darting side to side. “Why do you say that?”

  “That mother of theirs…” He shook his head, and the greasy lock swayed. “She’s a real number, you know? She’s paid me for stuff—like I said, gotta earn a living—but the other night, that takes the cake.” The limp strand waved again.

  Now he had her attention. She flushed, shamed he knew where Jon had spent the night. “Are you… Are you going to tell?”

  “Hell, no. She paid me for the pictures.”

  “Paid you for—”

  He jabbed a finger. “There she is.”

  Way down the road, a bobbing red pompom flashed into view. Walter had eyes like an eagle. He gunned the engine. The Studebaker gathered itself and shot forward, grinding to a halt beside the child. Lil jumped from the car.

  Melanie glanced over her shoulder. She broke into a run, but Lil’s legs were longer, and she caught Melanie’s hood. “Melanie!”

  Trying to free herself, Melanie pulled hard, but Lil pulled harder. Suddenly, Melanie’s resistance stopped. She sagged back, and Lil stumbled, dropping to her knees. She gripped Melanie’s coat and hauled her in close, holding on so tight, neither one of them could breathe. Melanie mewed, and Lil pulled back to see her face.

  Tears were frozen on Mel’s lashes, and her teeth chattered. “I want to stay with you, Lil,” she wailed.

  “You will. Oh, sweetie, you will.” Lil tucked back the dark hair, which had escaped from Melanie’s hat. “I promised you. And I don’t break promises, especially ones I make to people I love. I’m sorry I let you think I would.”

  Mind churning with how she could possibly keep that promise, Lil bundled Melanie into Walter’s car, and he drove them home. She didn’t think Jon would take the children away, at least not for the next two and a half years. But the court could, and she no longer felt confident it wouldn’t. Not after Jon’s activities the other night. No matter what Jon thought, Belinda would use the night’s doings against him somehow, even if it hurt the Van Castle money-making machine. Somehow, she had to make sure these children were safe. She loved them. Loved them with an intensity neither Jon nor Belinda matched. Their parents didn’t deserve them. She did.

  When they reached her door, she invited Walter inside.

  ***

  An hour later, bundled in a blanket, Melanie dozed in front of the television. Lil closed the door on Walter, watched him back the Studebaker out of her drive, then flew to the phone to call Jon, her mind buzzing with everything the photographer had told her. Walter didn’t have many scruples, and he shoved his more questionable acts under the heading Gotta Earn A Living, but he did have some conscience where children were concerned. And, after following Melanie and Michael around for months, he’d developed an almost paternal attitude toward them.

  She caught Jon at the airport and rushed into Walter’s tale before he could hang up. “Belinda paid Wart-nose to take pictures of you in her bed. She set you up!”

  “Settle down, babe. I already figured that out.” He laughed, a brittle sound. “You only have one part wrong. She didn’t set me up. I went there willingly.”

  “She planned the whole thing. It wasn’t just some golden opportunity. I knew it. You’d know it, too, if you’d stop this stupid act and give it some thought. How much do you remember about the other night? What happened at the Rooster? Isn’t it possible nothing happened later?”

  “You’re clutching at straws, babe.”

  Sickened, Lil fell silent. Even if he’d been drunk, he’d still know, wouldn’t he? “Maybe something did happen, then. But whether it did or didn’t, she’ll use those photographs. She’ll give them to a tabloid.” She played her last ace. He had to believe Belinda would stoop to anything. “And, not just those pictures but the other ones. She told Wart-nose another photographer helped her out a long time ago, Jon. She has other pictures. Fake ones. Making it look like you had sex with some girl. Gloria Something.” She waited for a gasp of shock.

  But no gasp came. “The infamous groupie. No problemo.”

  She pulled the phone away and stared at it in disbelief. No problemo? She put the receiver back to her ear. “You’re not going to do anything?”

  “Glory Galore is now a peep show star.”

  “But she wasn’t then. Walter says she was only seventeen!”

  “And Belinda got her to pose for some pictures, Photoshopped me into them. I’ve seen them.” He sounded bored. “Disgusting, but don’t worry about it. They’re old news. She didn’t use them then, and she won’t use them now. For Belinda, everything’s insurance. She’s not stupid. She knows she almost broke me before, and she’s not going to chance that. She wants money. And I’ll pony up.” He paused. “Plus, she loves me.”

  “Loves you?” He had to be out of his mind. That look she’d seen on Belinda’s face had been the furthest thing from love.

  “You’re wrong. It’s not just money. It’s certainly not love. You’ve got to fight her, you’ve got to—”

  He broke in, the flippant tone gone. “Fight her with what? Last time it was a lie. This time, she’s telling the truth. She didn’t get me drunk. She didn’t shove me in her car. She didn’t push me into her bed. For God’s sake, Lil, get that through your head.” He paused. “She’ll say she wants the kids, then—”

  She almost dropped the phone. “And you’d let her have them? How could you—”

  “Hey, babe —” At the note of cocky amusement, she wanted to reach through the line and strangle him.“I said, she’ll say she wants the kids. She doesn’t. She’ll use everything she’s got as a threat to get them, but it’s the money she wants.”

  Completely unconvinced Belinda would behave as Jon expected, she renewed her arguments, but all she got for her tirade was a soft click as he disconnected. She slammed down the receiver.

  Stewing, she checked on Melanie. The child still slept. Grabbing a cup of coffee, Lil sat down and thought hard for a good hour. All her life she’d followed someone else’s lead. She’d shuffled from her parents’ home and into Robbie’s arms. Then Seamus had stepped in. Now Jon wanted to save her too, even though she didn’t want saving. Well, no more. She was tired of being buffeted by events like some helpless fool.

  Her thoughts jelled, and she grabbed the phone. This time, it was her turn to call a meeting with her mother.

  Minutes later, Zinnia had joined her at her kitchen table. Lil shoved a mug of coffee and the deeds at her mother. As Zinnia looked over the papers, betraying only a flicker of surprise, Lil launched into an explanation of her agreement with Jon, sparing nothing. In the telling, her carefully formulated reasons for marrying him sounded stupid, and she shook her head, wondering why she’d ever thought the whole thing could work.

  “I convinced myself I was marrying Jon for everyone else. But, Mari was right
. I married him not because of our contract, but because he made me feel more alive than I’d felt since Robbie. And even though I couldn’t admit it, even to myself, part of it was the money and glamour and all those things I accused Mari of wanting.” Lil pushed her hands through her hair, and looked at her mother. “I married him just for myself. It’s my selfishness that created this mess.”

  Zinnia startled her by laughing. “I know.”

  “What?”

  “I know you married him because you love him.”

  Hadn’t she listened? “Mother, we weren’t in love. That was just a story we invented. We didn’t even like each other much then. It wasn’t until later that—”

  “Speak for yourself.” Zinnia chuckled. “Honeybunch, maybe you weren’t ready at the start to admit you had feelings for that young man, but he fell head over heels from the get-go. Now do you really think I’d have stood by and let you sacrifice yourself for all of us if I hadn’t believed you two were a match made in heaven?”

  She stared at Zinnia, and Zinnia stared back. “Oh, don’t look like such a gapeseed, Lilac Elizabeth. Give me some credit. After all, my careful daughter would never let herself believe she could fall in love again. She had to have a reason for a headlong rush into marriage. And, my, wasn’t it something that it was only a little while later we found a buyer for our cabin? And at a price more than the market value? Honeybunch, your dad and me might be a couple of country bumpkins, but we’re not total bird brains.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it was such fun watching the two of you. I could see that young man was completely ga-ga over you, and you— Why, every time he looked at you, you’d pink up like a ripening tomato.” Zinnia patted her hand. “Maybe you were a little slow on the uptake, but I knew it was only a matter of time.”

  “Well, you were right. And look where it got me.” Lil’s jaw tightened. Briefly she explained Jon’s departure. “But now I have to think of those children’s future and my own. I have a plan, but it will take money and these”—she prodded the deeds—“are the only thing of value I have besides this house, and the lake cabin really belongs to you.”

  Lil outlined what she had in mind.

  When she was done, Zinnia’s eyes gleamed with both admiration and amusement. “Honeybunch, I say go for it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  LIL DID just that. Fueled by restless energy, her ambitions took root and grew. She had two goals. Independence from Jon’s largess, and protecting the children. Coldly, her head considered their futures, while her heart remained torn by hope. If Jon prevailed in court, she’d be the children’s adoptive mother. If he continued to spurn her and carried out his plans for divorce, she’d by-God demand joint custody, and have the means to support them, with or without his money. But that motive paled beside her desire to see them safe from Belinda. And both faded in her yearning to have Jon return.

  The week after her conversation with Zinnia, she lost her fluffy hair and ribbons under the scissors at Up-in-the-Hair and emerged with a sophisticated look. She decked herself in a business suit, matching heels and an I-Am-Woman scarlet blouse. Feeling invincible, she stormed Stan’s bank armed with a business plan, the lake deed as collateral and her. At Alcea’s threat to escalate her alimony demands, her startled brother-in-law loaned Lil money in record time. She prepared to reopen Merry-Go-Read.

  Snow swirled during the last week of January, and the store’s transformation began under the hands of her family and Roy. Water stains disappeared under whitewash, scuff marks under a sander. Lil worked furiously by day, keeping her pain at bay. At night, she swallowed exhaustion and hurt and sent Jon cheerful emails, detailing the children’s lives and her own, hoping they’d help him reconsider his decision. She also implored him to consider again the threat Belinda posed.

  In return, she received a note from Peter that Jon had filed his sole-custody petition along with the papers for her adoption of the children. The judge had appointed an evaluator, a Ms. Langlie, to make a confidential report to the court. She should prepare for the social worker’s visit. She breathed a sigh of relief. The note confirmed Jon still planned to carry out their agreement. Peter also told her to rest easy where Belinda was concerned. Jon was “handling things.” She hoped to God that meant he’d instructed his attorneys to prepare to defend him against whatever so-called evidence Belinda had.

  Bone-chilling cold swept through the first weeks of February. Roy and Pop replaced the cracked ceiling lamps with globe lights hooded in primary colors, and kid-sized white shelving supplanted the tall, forbidding bookcases. Lil opened accounts and placed orders. Uncharacteristically mute on the subject of Jon but appearing determined to heal their rift, Mari showed up on weekends and covered the walls with eye-popping illustrations of book characters.

  Since it appeared he was only forwarding her emails to Peter, her missives to Jon dwindled to lists of expenses. In return, she received checks, including travel funds for the children. As instructed by the court, Melanie and Michael flew to visit Jon every three weeks, parroting Belinda’s visitation rights. Once a week, he called them. Once a week, he sent them a box of trinkets. The handwriting and botched tape jobs strummed a bittersweet chord. He packed them himself. He didn’t want to just win his case, he wanted to be a good father. She let those packages lull her anxiety concerning Belinda. He would consider all angles. He wouldn’t risk the children. They received two visits from Ms. Langlie. Lil thought the visits went well.

  The store’s new sign arrived on Valentine’s Day, a gray day accented by the vivid hearts and flowers displayed in the shop windows. The men hoisted the sign above the entrance to great fanfare from the town. Later, she caught Mother and Pop making out in the store’s back room. Dragging home that night, she hustled the children to bed, then pulled out the video of last fall’s CMA awards. She made it only halfway through Jon’s acceptance speech before bursting into tears. Pride in tatters, she addressed an email to Jon and threw her entire heart in it, clicking send before she could change her mind.

  The next week, Zinnia sewed covers for bean bag chairs and brought in rugs from the Stop ‘n Swap. Alcea baked and froze trays of cookies, banana bread and a half dozen of her chocolate-raspberry cakes. Patsy Lee, now working for Lil part-time, unpacked inventory while Lil arranged shelves. For six days, she hurried home to check her email. Anticipation shifted to growing anger when Jon remained silent. She unleashed another barrage of notes imploring him to update her on the custody case. He owed her at least reassurance.

  In late February, as the skies cleared to welcome the blue-and-white bluster of March, Mari sent Lil the flyers and newspaper ads she’d created, capitalizing on the Van Castle name according to Lil’s instructions. Walter took pictures of the store’s facelift and sold some to newspapers. Counting on the publicity, she set up an email order account.

  And she finally received an impersonal missive from Jon. He simply assured her she was not to worry: Belinda was “all about money,” and he had plenty he’d give her to leave the children alone. Feeling like a child who’d just received a careless pat on the head, she sat for long minutes in front of the screen, her astonished outrage growing. Money was his only defense? Hadn’t he listened?

  Over the next few days of early March, as the grass greened, the forsythia bloomed and crocuses poked up their heads, hope finally died, poisoned by Jon’s obstinacy and what pride she had left. She shoved the video tape in a box under the children’s winter boots—and went to visit Alcea’s lawyer.

  Murphy’s Law wasn’t exactly an inspiring moniker, but the tongue-in-cheek humor went with a stern exterior and razor-sharp mind. Under the veil of lawyer-client confidentiality, Lil laid out everything, hoping he could reassure her.

  Murphy led her through a morass of custody laws, then looked at her from under black brows. “Mr. Van Castle will have difficulty proving abuse without corroboration. He needs witnesses—teachers or friends or relatives
that noticed something wrong. It sounds like the children were isolated, and even though you mention a grandmother, she wasn’t there when these incidents took place. Abuse is a strong term. A slap or two won’t do it. It doesn’t sound like he’s working with much.”

  “He doesn’t think he has to work with much. He thinks she’ll take his money and drop her objections.”

  “I know Langlie. She’s a hard nut but thorough—and the court will listen to her. If the children say they were mistreated, it will go in her report. The fact you’re presenting a strong marriage plus the fact the kids have lived with you since then may sway the court in Mr. Van Castle’s favor.” He leaned back and steepled his hands. “I emphasize may. If, as you say, his ex-wife brings evidence that causes the court to question his fitness and the social worker’s report doesn’t contain any proof of abuse beyond hearsay and the children’s word, then the court may award them to the mother. It’s a toss-up.”

  Lil’s heart sank. “And if the court finds out the marriage is in name only?”

  “Then he’s hosed. What he and you are planning approaches perjury.”

  Lil chewed on her lip. Right now she could care less about ethics. Belinda already suspected the marriage was fake. If she could prove it… She had to do something. “What if I filed a—what did you call it? A third-party petition?—to get custody myself.”

  “You mean a backup plan in case the court moves against Mr. Van Castle?” He smiled thinly. “Do that, and the court will know beyond a doubt the marriage is a sham. So will the ex. The court would have to notify both natural parents you’ve filed, and she’d milk the deception. Unless the abuse charge sticks, it’d tip things in the ex’s favor, not your husband’s. If your aim is to help Mr. Van Castle, better to take your chances. You can’t propose yourself as an alternative in case he doesn’t win. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “If there was any logic in all this, I should win. I’m the best parent. I’m the one they’re happiest with.” Lil knotted her hands in her lap. “I can’t take the chance they’ll end up with their mother.”