The Father for Her Son

by Cindi Myers

  “It wasn’t my idea to come here,” Troy said.

  “I saw you with him and Scotty. What were the three of you talking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Bernie waited, arms folded across his chest, as if he expected Troy to elaborate.

  Troy waited, too. The less he said, the less Bernie could twist his words. Finally, Bernie broke the silence. “I’m keeping an eye on you,” he said.

  “I’m not doing anything illegal,” Troy said.

  “You’re hanging out with the wrong people. Isn’t that what got you into trouble before?”

  What could Troy say to that? Seven years behind bars made it hard to maintain friendships with those outside. Other than Marlee and a few coworkers, the only people he knew were men he’d done time with. Was that why it was so hard for cons to get away from the life?

  Maybe for other men, but Troy was determined to do it. “I’m not going to screw up, Bernie,” he said.

  Bernie nodded. “See that you don’t. You might not believe it, but I’m on your side here.” He jerked his head in the direction of the two men Troy had left behind. “I don’t want to see you end up like Frank. He’s a hero today, but he still has a rap sheet as long as my arm—the kind of record he can’t escape. You’ve got a chance to make a different kind of life.”

  “And I will.” Troy climbed into the truck and started the engine. All the plaques and citations in the world couldn’t make up for the hurt Frank had caused his family. Troy would do anything to keep from making the same mistakes.

  MARLEE STOOD in the doorway and watched Troy flipping burgers at the grill. From this position she had a good view of his butt, the softly faded denim of his jeans clinging just so. She wondered what he’d do if she slipped her hand into his back pocket, the way she used to when they were dating.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, looking over his shoulder with a smile of his own.

  “Was I smiling?” She pretended nonchalance, willing her face not to heat.

  “I thought maybe you liked what you saw.”

  She glanced toward Greg, who was busy excavating his sandbox with the toy dump truck Troy had given him. “Can’t blame a woman for looking,” she said, deciding to be bold.

  The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he grinned. “I don’t mind you looking. Or touching.”

  Oh, she knew how he felt about her. He’d made it perfectly clear. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who would have sex for the sake of sex, no matter how lonely she was.

  Not that Troy wanted that, either. His dream was for them to be a family—husband and wife and child. The audacity of such a commitment took her breath away. He apparently expected all or nothing from her; the prospect was too daunting to consider. “How are those burgers doing?” she asked.

  “They need a few more minutes.” He lowered the cover on the grill and faced her.

  “Mom! Troy! Come look at what I made.”

  Unsure if she was grateful or sorry for the interruption, Marlee went to kneel beside Greg in the sandbox. Troy joined her on Greg’s other side.

  “It’s a fort, see?” Greg indicated the packed sand walls. A row of plastic soldiers took aim from behind the wall at more soldiers positioned amid sand dunes.

  “That’s great.” Troy picked up one of the soldiers from behind the dunes and aimed him toward the fort. “Pow, pow, pow.”

  Greg grabbed a soldier from the fort. “Pow, pow. I got you!”

  “Ooohh! I’m done for.” Troy’s soldier writhed in agony, then fell backward in the sand.

  The soldiers had been a gift from Troy, also. Marlee had been determined to give her child only nonsexist, nonviolent toys, though she’d admitted it was a lost cause the first time Greg had turned a stick into a make-believe weapon.

  For the next few minutes, the battle raged, Troy and Greg taking turns acting out dramatic death scenes. One of Troy’s men made a sneak attack on the fort, only to be thrown from the high walls. Greg’s men made sensational leaps to their own deaths whenever Troy’s aim was true.

  When all the plastic men lay scattered in the sand, Greg grinned up at Troy. “This is fun,” he said. “I never had a grown-up play with me like this before.”

  “I play with you!” Marlee protested.

  “Yeah, but you never want to play soldiers or cowboys or anything like that. You know—guy stuff.”

  Marlee laughed, and tousled his hair. Troy’s eyes met hers and she felt a small surge of gratitude toward him. Greg needed his father, and she was pleased Troy could be there for him. There were things he and Troy could share that Marlee could never understand. Now that she trusted Troy more, she could admit that that was all right. If only she could believe that Troy’s past would never come back to hurt Greg.

  “I bet those burgers are about ready.” Troy stood and helped Marlee up out of the sand. “Want to hold the plate while I take them off the grill?” he asked Greg.

  “Yeah!”

  “I’ll get the buns and potato salad,” Marlee said, heading into the house.

  She returned a moment later with the food, just as Troy scooped Greg up under his arm. “Put me down!” Greg giggled as Troy carried him to the picnic table.

  Marlee put her hands on her hips and gave them a mock frown. “All right, children, settle down.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Troy slid onto the bench next to her and winked at Greg. The boy winked in return, then turned to Marlee and winked again. It was something he’d just learned to do—another gift from Troy, she suspected.

  “It looks delicious,” Troy said as he slathered mustard on his burger.

  “Mom makes the best burgers,” Greg said. “And you did a good job of cooking them.”

  “We make a pretty great team, then,” Troy said.

  It had been ages since Marlee had thought of herself as part of a team. She couldn’t decide if she liked the idea or not. Two people working together could accomplish more, but how could you ever be sure the other person had the same goals as you? How could you ever really know another person as well as you knew yourself?

  AFTER SUPPER, Greg insisted on challenging Troy and Marlee to a game of lawn darts. The boys team of Troy and Greg narrowly defeated Marlee in a loud, fast-paced game with oversize darts tossed at a target on the grass that left them all laughing and exhausted. Afterward, they collapsed into lawn chairs and gazed up at the stars. Troy held Greg on his lap and pointed out the Big Dipper and the Milky Way. “How’d you learn so much about the stars?” Greg asked.

  “My father taught me when I was little.”

  “Mine did, too.” Marlee said the words so quietly, she might have been speaking to herself.

  “How old were you?” Troy asked.

  She looked down and smoothed the fraying cuff of her shorts. “Five or six, I guess. It would have been before…” She glanced at Greg, who was leaning back against Troy’s chest, still staring up at the stars. “Before he went away the first time.”

  “I bet you missed him,” Troy said softly.

  She nodded. “I didn’t know then where he was…or why.” Her voice was reedy, her anguish evident even after twenty years.

  “When did you find out?”

  She looked at Greg again. Troy felt the boy’s deep, steady breathing and wondered if he’d fallen asleep. He watched Marlee out of the corner of his eye, suppressing the urge to stroke her hair. If he touched her, she might retreat, the closeness between them destroyed.

  “I was ten. My aunt took me to see him.” Anger edged the soft tones of her words. “She thought I should know.”

  Troy gripped the metal arms of the lawn chair with one hand until his knuckles whitened. “Did she at least warn you first?”

  Marlee bit her lip and shook her head. Troy thought he saw the glimmer of tears, but she looked away. The only sound that broke the silence was the gentle cadence of Greg’s breathing as he slept in Troy’s lap.

  “It was an awful place,” Marlee said
after a long while. “When they brought him out, he didn’t look like himself. At home he always dressed so neatly, in the latest styles. He always wore flashy suits and alligator shoes. I thought of him as young and handsome and funny. There he looked…old and ugly and…and sad.” The last word was barely audible, but it echoed in Troy’s head with all the things she didn’t need to say.

  Her father would have come into the visitors’ room in shackles, wearing baggy prison coveralls, his hair cut short in no particular style, rubber sandals on his feet. Everyone would have stared at him—the guards and the other prisoners and the self-righteous woman who had taken it upon herself to destroy a little girl’s illusions. And the little girl herself would have stared in horror at the man and the place, while her heart shattered like glass.

  Troy reached out to lay his hand on Marlee’s in a gesture of comfort, but she pulled away and sat upright. “I think Greg’s asleep,” she said with exaggerated calm. “I’d better put him to bed.”

  “Let me.” He cradled the boy gently in his arms and stood. “Please.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “All right. His pajamas are in the top dresser drawer.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find everything.”

  Greg hardly stirred as Troy got him changed into pajamas printed with images of the Tasmanian Devil. He tucked the covers around him and kissed him on the forehead, lingering to breathe in the little-boy smell of sandbox and burgers. Then he switched off the light and tiptoed from the room, feeling blessed by those tender moments with his son.

  When he returned to the living room, Marlee was sitting on the sofa. Troy sat beside her. “I don’t think he woke up once,” he said.

  She smiled. “He goes and goes until he can’t go anymore, then falls right to sleep. I envy that sometimes.”

  “I once heard that the difference between kids and adults is that kids hate to nap, while adults wish they could.”

  “I guess so. When I was little, I thought being an adult meant you could stay up as late as you wanted and you could smoke cigarettes. Now I don’t care about either one.”

  “So your parents smoked when you were growing up?”

  “Yes. So did all their friends. I thought it was very glamorous, though I see it differently now. I guess I saw a lot of things differently as I got older.”

  “I never knew anything about your dad,” he said. “Thanks for telling me some of it now.” Marlee had never hidden her contempt for the old man, or her shame that he’d spent most of her life in and out of jail. But today was the first time he’d glimpsed another side of their relationship. Marlee had loved her father once; she apparently still grieved over losing him.

  “I don’t think about him much,” she said. “It’s just too sad.”

  “I saw Frank Wednesday afternoon,” he said. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “You saw him?” She stared at him. “Where?”

  “He received an award from the mayor—for rescuing that woman from the fire. I was downtown and caught the end of the ceremony.”

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “Scotty introduced me. Apparently they know each other.”

  “From prison, I’m sure.”

  “My parole officer was there, too. He said Frank’s been straight about five years now.” There was no need to tell Marlee that Bernie hadn’t actually said that then.

  “Well, good for him.” Her voice was sharp with sarcasm.

  “I take it he’s never tried to contact you?”

  “No. I made it clear I never wanted to see him again.”

  One more thing Troy and Frank didn’t have in common—Troy hadn’t taken Marlee’s refusal for an answer.

  “You didn’t say anything to him about me, did you?” she asked.

  “Of course not. We hardly said three words.”

  “Why did you even go there?”

  “It was Scotty’s idea. But I admit I was curious to see him. After all, he’s part of who you are.”

  “He’s part of who I was. Not who I am now.”

  “Right.” But could one be separated from the other?

  Marlee tucked her legs under her and shifted to face him. “Tell me about the night you were arrested,” she said. “Not what came out in court, but the full story.”

  “You really want to know?” Troy studied her face, trying to read her motives. Was she searching for reasons to resist the growing attraction between them? Or was she trying to justify letting him get closer?

  “I don’t know if you ever met my cousin, Raymond. He lived in Round Rock and was a little older than me. He always seemed to have plenty of money, so when I found out you were pregnant, I decided to ask if he’d give me a loan. I wanted extra cash for the baby and to pay for a wedding. I figured I’d pick up some more hours at the garage and pay him back.”

  Troy fixed his gaze on a pile of magazines on the coffee table, but as he continued his story, his vision blurred. He could see the events of that day too clearly…

  He’d met Raymond at the old Night Hawk restaurant downtown, to talk about the loan. His cousin had been wearing Levi’s and a collarless white shirt, snakeskin boots and a designer leather jacket. He’d looked like a movie star. Troy, in his faded Wranglers, T-shirt and work boots, had felt like a hick as he slid into the booth across from his cousin.

  “So you’re thinking about tying the knot.” Raymond grinned at him. “This calls for a celebration. How about coming with me to Fredricksburg this evening?”

  “Fredricksburg?” Troy shifted nervously in the booth.

  “Sure.” We’ll have a few drinks and celebrate. You can help me with a little job I’ve got down there and when we get back I’ll give you all the money you need.”

  Troy cleared his throat. “I’d appreciate the loan, Ray.”

  Raymond waved his hand. “No loan, cuz. We’ll just call it payment for you helping me out tonight.”

  “Uh, what kind of job is it?”

  Raymond smiled. “Nothing much. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  All the money he needed for a few minutes’ work. He and Marlee and the baby would be able to get off to a good start. Troy knew it shouldn’t be this easy, but he shrugged off the shiver of unease that ran up his spine. He nodded. “Sure. I’ll help you out.”

  Raymond insisted they go right then, leaving Troy’s motorcycle in the parking lot and setting out in Raymond’s Crown Victoria. They stopped at a club on the outskirts of San Marcos and Raymond ordered drink after drink, though Troy was too nervous to have more than a couple of beers. Once he asked Raymond about the mysterious job, but his cousin waved him off. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said. It was after midnight when they set out again, Troy driving and following Raymond’s directions.

  “Pull in here a minute while I run in and get us some more beer.” Raymond pointed out a convenience store and Troy swung the car into the parking lot.

  He left the engine running while Raymond went inside. The green neon of the store’s marquee bathed the car’s interior with an underwater glow. Troy fiddled with the dial of the radio and thought about Marlee. He should have called her from the club, just to say good-night. They talked every evening and she’d be wondering why she hadn’t heard anything.

  He heard a sound like a truck backfiring and looked up. The car shook as Raymond jerked open the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” he said as he slid into the seat. He dropped a brown paper bag on the floor between his feet. Troy heard coins rattle against beer bottles.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked, putting the car in gear.

  “I just robbed the place.” Raymond’s eyes were wild, his breath hot and smelling of whiskey. The hair on the back of Troy’s neck rose as he stared at the pistol hanging loose in Raymond’s right hand. “Step on it!” his cousin shouted.

  Troy swore and stomped on the gas, tires squealing as the car jolted over the curb and into the street. �
�You’re crazy!” he said as he rushed a yellow light and headed toward the interstate.

  Raymond laughed and reached into the bag at his feet. He pulled out two beers and a handful of bills. “There’s your wedding present, cousin,” he said, tossing the money into Troy’s lap. He twisted off the caps on the beer and shoved one toward Troy. “Congratulations.”

  Troy slapped the beer away and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. “How could you be so stupid?” he barked at his cousin.

  “You’re the one who’s stupid.” Raymond pointed the gun at him and laughed. “Sweating for a living when there’s an easier way.”

  Troy ignored him. He wanted nothing to do with Raymond or his money ever again. He’d provide for Marlee and the baby honestly, no matter how much overtime he had to work.

  Lights flashed in the rearview mirror and he heard a siren’s piercing whine. Raymond swore. He rolled down the window and hurled the gun out into the night. “Floor it!” he shouted. “We can outrun them.”

  Fear overruled commonsense. Troy stomped on the gas and the car swerved. Raymond was thrown into the dash, swearing loudly. Troy fought to control the fishtailing car, but couldn’t when he heard gunshots and one tire suddenly blew—shot out by the cops following them. Skidding wildly, he somehow steered the car to the shoulder.

  The next few moments were a blur. Cops were everywhere, shouting at them to come out with their hands up. Troy remembered lying facedown by the side of the road, the smell of tar and diesel engulfing him, gravel digging into one cheek. A two-hundred-pound officer had his knee in Troy’s back and was shouting at him as he cuffed him.

  Troy tried to explain what had happened, but the cops ordered him to be quiet. They took him and Raymond to the police station in separate cars, and he spent a sleepless night in a concrete cell. During his interrogation, Troy learned that Raymond had shot the clerk at the store.

  Despite the efforts of his court-appointed attorney, no one believed he was innocent. Not the cops, the jury or the judge who sentenced him to twelve years in the Texas State Penitentiary for armed robbery.