Ransomed Dreams

by Amy Wallace

  “Mom,” James had called her. Only because Angela begged him to. That alone rankled Steven, but he had played along.

  Stupid.

  He’d fallen under his ex-wife’s spell again. Hoped for the best. Gotten snowed like always where she was concerned. This time would be the last. He’d do everything to convince the judge that his son belonged with him and was in danger if Angela had any involvement in his life.

  Once Angela was out of the picture—again—things would settle down. Gracie would be home soon, and she could provide the female role model the courts were sure to insist James needed.

  If only life worked like his best-laid plans.

  Steven pulled into the condo parking lot and turned off the ignition. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. No need to give Angela any ammunition for court.

  He rubbed Jakes fur and then walked to the condo door. If Clint were here, he’d remind Steven to pray No time for that. But he’d talk to Clint at work tomorrow. Remind them to pray hard on Wednesday.

  He rang the doorbell. A short, bald man answered. “Steven. What are you doing here?”

  Marcus, the one she’d left Steven for. He sized up the middle-aged man and wondered for the thousandth time why. Why had Angela left him for a little mouse of a man? The same man who’d had the gall to yell at James.

  Steven relaxed his balled fists. “Don’t ever raise your voice to my son.”

  Marcus’s face turned a pasty shade of white. “Angie, baby you have a visitor.”

  The mouse wasn’t a gentleman either. Hadn’t even tried to protect Angela. If James’s future wasn’t at stake, Steven would have liked to take the professor out back and throttle him till he squeaked.

  Angela staggered to the doorway her wide eyes registering his presence. “What do you want, Stevie?” Her breath smelled of stale Maker’s Mark. Bourbon. Her liquor of choice.

  Steven fought the memories of that smell. The empty promises to quit. The lies about rehab. Nothing had changed. Not even his own stupid naiveté.

  “I want my son.” Steven stepped between his drunken ex-wife and the mousy professor.

  Angela sunk her claws into his bicep. “You can’t barge into my home like this.”

  “I can when you’ve put my son at risk.” He shook her hands away. “He called me to say he was scared. Terrified of your loud squawking and whatever else you were doing.” Steven shot a glance at Marcus. The man said nothing.

  Angela’s brave face crumpled. “He wouldn’t stop talking about Gracie. Gracie prayed this and Gracie did that. I had to beg him to call me Mom. I shouldn’t have to beg my son to call me Mom.”

  “Being a mother goes far beyond just giving birth; something you didn’t stick around to find out.”

  She cocked a hand to slap him, but Steven caught her wrist. “Never again, Angela. You may not have changed, but I have. You lose this time.”

  Steven stormed unhindered to the back bedroom. James was lying in his bed, shaking under the covers. Steven collected his son and his backpack. “I’m here, James. We’re going home.”

  He buried his face in Steven’s chest and clung to him.

  Steven paused at the front door while Marcus and Angela stood rooted to their previous spots. “I’ll see you in court. If you’re sober enough to stand, that is.” He exited the condo, and the door slammed behind him.

  Come Wednesday this nightmare would be over. One less problem to solve. One less heartache to face.

  And he’d lock the memory of Angela Barrett from his mind forever.

  33

  Sitting in Hartsfield’s concourse B at the farthest gate, Gracie’s side ached.

  Normal breathing hadn’t happened since Justin Moore’s frazzled phone call yesterday. He claimed to have e-mailed her details that required her attention, but she hadn’t responded. So he’d called.

  “I believe Thomas Perkins is the man you saw the night your family was killed.”

  But Justin had no proof. And she was sure her private investigator was wrong. Dead wrong. She couldn’t let an innocent man be harassed by the police because of a drawing she’d probably imagined. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her vice principal’s being named from the sketch she never should have given.

  Maybe his constant hovering at school and his distinctive Ichabod Crane nose had colored her memories. She’d done Justin’s sketch from a nightmare more than from a real memory.

  Her cell phone rang. Now she could be like the million other Atlanta travelers with a silver attachment in their ears.

  “Beth? What are you doing calling me so early in the morning?” Her sister had flown home with her adorable twins last week. Gracie missed them something fierce.

  “Mom said you were flying back to Virginia already I thought the doc said you’d be off work until after Thanksgiving.” Beth yawned.

  “You gotta stop having dreams about me, you know.” Gracie’s tone didn’t match her attempt at humor. “Steven’s custody hearing is tomorrow. I told him I’d be back for that.”

  Not the entire reason, but one Beth would be happy to hear.

  “So you’ve decided to embrace the boyfriend thing?” Beth’s coffee machine gurgled to life in the background. “That’s worth waking up for, even at six west coast time. Details, please. I’d like some juicy tidbits before I have to slave away at my desk pushing grant papers all day while the boys make Play-Doh statues at day care. What a life.”

  “Nothing new. Like I told you before you left, I’m proceeding cautiously. A lot depends on how Steven handles the results of the custody hearing.”

  “But you’ll be at his side, fighting the evil ex-wife, and then ride off into the east coast sunset.” Beth giggled at her own parody.

  “Not quite.”

  “Is Steven picking you up at the airport?”

  Gracie heard her row number being called. “Leah’s dropping me off at school. I may call Steven to pick me up from there.”

  “School? Please don’t tell me you’re going to visit your classroom. You barely survived Peter and Rob’s hugs. Those first graders are likely to tackle you if you show up there.”

  That would be a welcome diversion. “I’ll be careful. Talk to you soon, Beth. I love you.”

  The plane ride home passed with little fanfare. Her seatmates all kept their noses in fiction books while Gracie tried to doze. She’d need all her strength to face what awaited her back in Alexandria.

  At Dulles Airport, Leah pulled her into a light hug and insisted she wait on the sidewalk for the car. Gracie had tried to grab her suitcase from the silver luggage carousel earlier, but Leah had bulldozed her away from that too.

  This was worse than being hovered over by her mother at home. Thankfully on die ride to Hope Ridge, they focused on Leah’s upcoming trip to visit her parents in Colorado for Thanksgiving.

  “You’re going home for the holidays, right?”

  Leah’s Lexus smelled like Yankee Candle’s sage and citrusscent. A mix of beach and citrus and summer breezes. Gracie wouldn’t mind a walk on the Destin beaches she and Mark had often visited for family vacations.

  She wondered if Steven liked beaches.

  “Earth to Gracie. You dreaming about your FBI beau?”

  Caught red-handed. Or in her case, red-faced again. She needed to get past Beth’s romantic fantasies and back to the real world. Past everyone’s notion of her and Steven getting married and living happily ever after.

  “Please don’t echo Beth. I need you to be Leah, the strong and wise district attorney.”

  Leah laughed. “I’ll unpack my Superwoman cape for you when I get home.”

  They pulled into Hope Ridge Academy grounds. “Why am I dropping you off here again?”

  Leah’s upcoming trip must have made her a little at loose ends. That worked for Gracie. Less explanation required. The fewer people who knew about Justin Moore’s ridiculous claims, the better. Especially if she still wanted a job to return to after the holidays. />
  “I need to meet with Mr. Perkins, and then I’ll see if Steven can take me home. That way you and William don’t have to wait for me.”

  Leah shot her a knowing look. “Very magnanimous of you.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d play along. For now. It was better than imagining her world without Steven after his custody hearing. If it went badly she’d have to find a way to untangle from Steven and Angela’s emotional mess and wait until he was ready to move past his past.

  A challenge that neither of them was ready to tackle.

  Gracie fidgeted with her blue-and-white checked jumper as she waited in the main office. Skirts and dresses were still more comfortable on her incision sites than pants. Better to focus on her wardrobe than on her “worked in” meeting with Mr. Perkins.

  Everyone had been so happy to see her. They spoke of how well her students were doing, but also about how much they missed her. Like she missed them. Getting back into her classroom might be hard, but she’d face her fears just like Victoria had done.

  That little girl was an inspiration. After all she’d been through in the last few months, the little blonde had regained her smile. And Maria said it hadn’t disappeared when she returned to school after the shooting.

  “Mrs. Lang? Mr. Perkins will see you now.” Alice led her back to the private office.

  Her boss stood as she entered. “Hello, Mrs. Lang.”

  “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I appreciate it.”

  He motioned for her to sit. “Glad to help. Now, what can I do for you today?”

  She brushed the traveling wrinkles from her jumper. “I know my private investigator was here to see you. I … I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings and make sure everything was still in place for my return after Thanksgiving.”

  “There’s no problem on our end.”

  His dark eyes held her attention. “I was wondering if you could explain why someone from Georgia State would name you as the person in my police sketch. That makes no sense, and it’ll bother me until I have an explanation.”

  He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I have a theory It’s a simple case of revenge, Mrs. Lang. The woman your PI must have spoken with, Kimberly Beam, is a jilted girlfriend. She must have seen the sketch and thought it resembled me, just enough so she could use it to cause some trouble in my life.”

  “But why would an old girlfriend do something like that?” She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around all the recent updates Justin had given her.

  “Like I explained to Mr. Moore, I’d planned to propose to Kimberly on New Year’s Eve two years ago. But she let it slip that she was pregnant. With someone else’s child.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sure you can understand why I didn’t follow through with the proposal and why she would want to tarnish my name at any opportunity. I was her ticket out of single motherhood, but I didn’t play along.”

  His story made sense. Gracie’s gut said there was more to it than that, but she was too jet-lagged to continue the conversation. The rest was none of her business anyway. She wanted to get home, fall into her bed, and sleep for days.

  “Well then, I’m glad it’s so easily explained. Thank you for your time, Mr. Perkins. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “No problem.” He stood to show her out. “Would you like Alice to call you a cab, or do you have another way home? You look too tired to drive right now.”

  She was. Too exhausted to talk to Steven too. “That would be wonderful, since a friend dropped me off. Thank you.”

  On the taxi ride home, thoughts of her bed and her sweet, lonesome dog kept Gracie’s eyes open. She’d call Steven tonight and see if he could bring Jake home.

  She needed the peaceful surroundings of her home and Jake’s warm presence to set her wobbling world spinning back on its axis. She’d deal with her nerves when she saw Steven later.

  After a good nap.

  Everything looked better after a good rest.

  Gracie answered the door with sleep-mussed hair.

  Steven smiled when she yawned and said hello at the same time. But Jake beat him through the door, jumping on his owner, making circles around her legs. She kept him away from her side and bent down to nuzzle his neck.

  Lucky dog.

  “How did you know I was home? I’d planned to call this evening.”

  He stepped inside and closed the front door. “Your mom called and said Leah was picking you up at the airport but that you’d be thrilled if I brought Jake home around dinnertime.”

  She groaned. “Dinner?”

  “Don’t worry. Your mom suggested I stop by a deli and grab something for both of us.” He held up a white sack and then walked to the kitchen.

  “She’s got it covered. Fiddler on the Roof’s matchmaker has nothing on my mother.” She flopped onto a breakfast chair.

  Steven considered breaking into one of his favorite musical’s numbers, but one look at Gracie’s tired eyes and he decided against it. He rummaged through her cabinets for plates instead.

  “Steven, have you ever been shot?” The question startled him.

  “Years ago.” He piled two pink plates with chips, pickles, and turkey club sandwiches. “Clint risked his life to pull me to safety.”

  “Were you in a lot of pain?”

  He considered giving her the trauma counselor’s number he’d been taking James to visit. He’d find the card tonight and suggest it soon.

  “Yes, I still remember the searing pain. The fear too. I had no idea at first if I would return to work, and I struggled with that.” He took their plates to her kitchen table and waited while she bowed her head to pray.

  “What about you? How are you handling it?”

  “I’m dealing with it. I talked to my counselor in Georgia a little.” She munched on her pickle first. Jake sat statuelike waiting for a bite. “Your work is very important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He needed to tread carefully with this new subject. Angela’s words about work being his mistress could color what Gracie heard, and he wanted to ease her fears, not add to them.

  “When an assignment is complete and a child is returned to his or her parents, or when a case goes to trial so airtight that there’s no way for justice not to be served, the emotions are incredible. It’s an awesome privilege to put that kind of joy in someone’s eyes. And when I see the perps sentenced so they never have a chance to do it again, that makes my job worth all the risks.”

  “I can’t pretend to comprehend the magnitude of your job. But it’s obvious you give your all to whatever you do. That I understand.” She nibbled at her sandwich. “What about your family, Steven? How do you balance time with James and a demanding work schedule?”

  Was she asking about how he’d make time for her too? He could only hope. “You ask hard questions, you know that?”

  “I’ve just had a lot of time to think. Tomorrow will be a turning point of sorts for your life, and I’d like to know where that leaves me.” She played with her napkin. “I mean, Beth and my mom and dad already have us walking the aisle, but I’m not sure where things are headed.”

  Neither was he. But spending more time with Gracie made the top of his wish list. Marriage? Maybe. That would have to wait till Angela disappeared.

  Gracie chewed on her lip and focused on the table.

  “You look like you’re dying to say something. What is it?”

  “Okay You asked for it, remember.”

  He smiled.

  She took a deep breath. “The way I see it, Angela was responsible for her own choices. Just like you’re responsible for the choices you make now. Clint is right. Until you forgive her, you’re not totally free. You choose.”

  Finishing off his sandwich, he looked straight into her eyes. “You going to take your own advice?”

  “Touché.” She stared out the dining room windows for a long time while the dog’s eyes stayed trained on her, and his tail thumped the
floor.

  “I loved Angela. I’ve been honest with you about that. She rocked my foundation when she ran off and left me with a new-born and the accusations about my work.” Thoughts of Angela’s actions Monday night hit him again. “I blamed her for everything. Hated her. That served me well for a long time. Kept me from feeling the hurt and dwelling on the past. But lately I’ve realized that I failed her too.” Steven leaned over on his knees and raked his hand through his hair. “I’m still working all that out.”

  “I can live with that. I still have things to deal with too. A lot, if you listen to my mother.”

  Marianne might have invited him into their lives from their first meeting at the hospital, but asking her about Gracie’s issues wasn’t his style. He’d wait till she was ready to share.

  He held her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I need you to know tomorrow could get ugly. Angela was drunk on Monday night when James called. Very drunk.”

  Gracie gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “You know Angela’s drinking is not your fault, right?” She squeezed his hand as he scooted his kitchen chair closer. “Each of us makes our own choices.”

  Her words were accomplishing in minutes what Clint had tried to hammer home for the past five years. Or maybe one had set the stage for the other. Either way, the guilt Steven had allowed free reign shriveled a little. But only a little. And he’d still have to follow the logic through and face a ton of mistakes by looking in the mirror.

  After he survived the custody hearing.

  “I’m praying for you, Steven.”

  He pulled her to her feet and drew her close. Then he tilted her chin up and lowered his lips to hers. Gracie’s kiss was everything all at once. Gentle. Passionate. Innocent. Electrifying. With only a narrow hold on the passion stirring within him, he pulled back slightly and rested his forehead on hers.

  Gracie’s eyes were still closed. She inhaled a deep, ragged breath and slowly released it.

  “Thank you for coming back. Your presence and your prayers matter.” He traced her jawline with his thumb.