Jailbird (10 page)

Charlie was the consummate gentleman with me.
When passion did flare to the point I was sure we’d combust into a
raging inferno, Cara inevitably woke with a bad dream. Or I’d flip
out and run away rather than crack him over the head with the
nearest heavy object. All things considered, he took it in
stride.

The thing is—it was just so… comfortable.
Charlie, Cara, Anjelita, Manny… even Rita at the diner was warming
up to me. Probably because she was making extra money off the jelly
she’d set on the counter as a favor to Charlie. It wasn’t just her,
though. The town was opening up to me. Even the single women of the
fair hamlet were becoming accustomed to my presence at Charlie’s
side. It was a dream come true. Better, I guess, because I never
would’ve dared to dream of a life like this.

I have to say—nothing will splash cold water
on your face quite like a marriage proposal.

I should have seen it coming when Charlie
asked Anjelita and Manny to baby-sit before driving two towns away
for dinner. After a nice candlelit meal, we wandered the little
town square hand in hand, watching the stars and talking about not
much of anything in particular. And then, right there in front of
God and everybody, he dropped to one knee.

“Neena Torres-Allen,” he began playfully. He
never had given up calling me a Torres. “I have fallen hopelessly
and madly in love with you over these past few months. Please say
you’ll marry me.”

I could feel my heart crumble into a million
little shards at the sincere and hopeful look on his face. This was
a lie even I couldn’t swallow. I was a stupid, hateful person for
letting it get this far.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that
a crowd had gathered. Hurting him would be bad enough. Hurting him
in front of an audience just wasn’t even an option. I pulled him to
his feet and stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss that I hoped would
convey the thousand-and-one things running through my mind at that
very moment. I heard scattered applause. I could only hope the
crowd was dispersing.

“Is that yes?” he cupped my face in his hands
and searched my eyes.

“That is ‘I love you more than you could ever
know’ and a ‘can we talk in private?’” I grasped him by the chin
and pulled him to me for another kiss.

“What was that one?” he asked warily, resting
his forehead against mine. “It seemed sad.”

“That one was ‘if you really knew me, maybe
you wouldn’t love me’,” I admitted, clasping his neck and drinking
in the heat rolling off his body.

“I know you better than you think,” he
promised. “And it makes me love you more.”

“No, Charlie. I haven’t been honest with
you.”

“Then be honest with me now.”

I briefly weighed the options. While I didn’t
expect him to turn me in, there was a danger in people knowing who
I was. I’d already taken too many chances. How many more before I
wound up back in prison with my newfound dreams ripped from my
grasp? I took a deep breath.

“I have a daughter,” it was something. Not
everything, but something.

“It’s okay, I know… what? Did you just say
you have a daughter?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“The usual way.”

“But… I mean… wait a second… how old is
she?”

“She’ll be ten in February.”

“Oh. Okay, I get it. Okay. Do you see your
daughter? Would you want her to live with us?”

“She doesn’t know who I am,” I admitted in a
whisper, blinking back the tears.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Conrad is raising her.”

“Really?” Charlie seemed put-out by
something, but only repeated “Really?”

“Yes. Really. He’s raised her since she was
born. I just couldn’t….” I let my voice drift off. The statement
was true enough in so many ways, probably just not in the ones he
thought.

“Okay, then. I wish you’d told me sooner, but
that doesn’t change anything.”

“Don’t you ever get angry?”

“Should I?”

“Yes, you should,” I shoved his chest a
little.

“I do get angry. I try not to show it around
you, though,” he seemed embarrassed by that admission. “But I’m not
angry over this. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

“That’s not everything…,” I could have kicked
myself for bringing it up.

“Okay, then let’s hear it.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again; it was
the fish routine I’d done often in our first week together. I’d
just opened my mouth again when his cell phone rang. He heaved a
sigh and held up a hand.

“Hold that thought,” he instructed as he
answered the phone. I could tell from his end of the conversation
that it wasn’t a good call. The tortured look in his eyes when he
hung up made me reach for him instinctively.

“What is it, mon
ange
?” I
usually refrained from speaking in French. It was one more clue as
to my heritage. Sometimes I just forgot. It’s one of the many
reasons I’m a lousy liar.

“Cara. She’s hurt… they took her to the
hospital,” he seemed shell shocked.

“Let’s go. Do you want me to drive?”

To my surprise, he handed me the keys. I
sincerely hoped driving a car was like riding a bike since I’d
heard somewhere that was a skill one didn’t forget.

Luckily, I did well enough and he was
distracted enough we made it to the hospital without my renewing
the fear of God in him. Even better, I managed to not get pulled
over.

“My daughter, Cara Russell, was brought in
this evening,” Charlie startled the woman at the front desk.

“The doctor is in with her now,” the woman’s
expression softened. “Go down that hall. It’s the first door on the
right.”

Charlie grabbed me by the hand and dragged me
in the direction of his daughter. He burst through the door in
question with me in tow, startling everyone in the room.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry,” Anjelita instantly
rushed to his side.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “What
happened?”

“It seems the girls were climbing the bunk
beds and Cara fell,” the doctor wrapping Cara’s arm interjected.
“Lucky for her, she’ll only have a broken arm to show for it.
Things could have been much worse.”

“Yes sir,” Cara nodded solemnly. Tears
stained her grubby cheeks.

“Thank God,” Charlie breathed a sigh of
relief, leaning over to kiss his little girl on the forehead. “You
scared me to death, young lady.”

“Sorry Daddy,” she hiccupped pitifully.

“You poor thing,” my heart went out to her.
“I know that really hurts.”

“When did you break your arm?” she seemed
encouraged by the fact that we shared the same plight.

“Three years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Fell from a bunk bed, wouldn’t you know it,”
I lied right through my teeth. It seemed like a better answer than
getting caught in the middle of a prison gang war. “But it’s all
better now…see?” I held my arm up for inspection.

“What am I going to do with you girls?”
Charlie ruffled his daughter’s hair as he slid an arm around my
waist. The gesture was not lost on Anjelita. From the hopeful look
in her eyes, I knew she’d been in on the plans for the evening. She
and Manny discreetly filed out, leaving Charlie and I with Cara
while the doctor finished up.

Of course, they were still waiting in the
lobby when we left. I should have known that Anjelita’s sense of
guilt was too great for her to have gone far without a few dozen
more apologies.

We went through a drive through on the way
home to get Cara a chocolate milk shake. The cathartic powers of a
chocolate shake are a wonder to behold. I helped her get changed
into her pajamas to save Charlie the dilemma. By the time we got
her tucked into bed, I was so tired I could hardly move.

“You never answered my question,” Charlie
reminded me as we sank onto the couch in an exhausted heap.

“Very observant man…” I agreed before asking
a question of my own out of pure morbid curiosity. “Hey, did you
get me a ring?”

“I did,” he pulled a small box out of his
pocket. It was a pretty ring—feminine, with intricate designs—but
not ostentatious. The diamond in the center sparkled merrily at me
from a bed of white-gold scrollwork.

“Can I try it on?” I could barely breathe. It
was perfect.

“Of course,” he carefully slid the ring onto
my finger. Somehow he’d managed to get it in the right size, too. I
leaned back against him and we watched the ring sparkle in the
lamplight.

I’m not sure how long we sat there, staring
at my hand and not saying a word. Part of my soul wanted to sing.
Part of me wanted to run away and hide in a dark cave or somewhere
equally removed from society and good people I would only hurt.

“So, did the ring sway you at all?”

“It’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

“But?” he could hear the hesitation in my
voice.

“I don’t think you want someone like me being
a mother to Cara.”

“You’re a lot better than her biological
mother. You help her with her homework, wipe away her tears, listen
to her dreams, teach her how to be a girl… what more could she ask
for?”

“Someone who’s not a convicted felon, for
one,” I snapped before my mental filter could stop the words. I was
both horrified and immensely relieved.

“Fair enough,” he seemed to be choosing his
next words carefully. “Do you think you could expand on that a
bit?”

I studied his eyes for some hint of repulsion
or condemnation but could find none. In fact, they seemed oddly
absent of surprise, too. Whatever feelings he harbored, he was
keeping them masked. The words were out there; it seemed as good a
time as any to come clean.

I took a deep breath and picked up where I
had left off the last time I’d given him a glimpse into my past.
This time I told him about the tire iron, about my panicked flight
after the fact. I’d been found broken and bloody and hiding in a
storm drain. They’d arrested me and taken me straight to the county
jail. After a joke of a trial, I’d been shipped to Dixon
Correctional.

He didn’t interrupt me as I spoke, and his
eyes never flashed with anger or revulsion. He just held my hands
as I poured out everything that had happened over the years. At one
point, he got up long enough to go get us each a glass of wine.
Then he settled back in on the couch, pulled me up to him, and
encouraged me to go on.

So I did. I told him about the night I burned
the meatloaf and was reborn.

“Do you have any idea what a stubborn
substance burned meatloaf is? Long after the rest of the kitchen
crew had cleared out, I found myself standing and scrubbing pans.
At first I thought the shuffling of feet behind me was a correction
officer coming to check up on me. When a hand grabbed me by the
back of my head and shoved my face into a sink full of greasy
water, I kind of figured it wasn’t a C.O.”

“Good Lord,” his breath caught.

I shrugged, self conscious. “Yeah, I still
startle sometimes if I hear someone walk up behind me while I’m
doing the dishes. I knew I’d been cornered by the Chicas and that
didn’t leave me with many options, so I grabbed the nearest pan and
started swinging. I think it kind of surprised all of us when I
first made contact. One of them fell to the floor and her friends
stared in shock just long enough for me to take off for the nearest
door. Maybe I should have run straight to the guards—Lord knows
panicking hadn’t done me any favors ten years ago—but I was
operating on instinct and that was telling me the C.O.s wouldn’t
take the time to hear my side of things before sticking me in the
Hole.”

“I can’t really say what happened next. The
Chicas chased me for a while, but soon their footsteps were
replaced by heavier-booted ones. Looking back, it makes me think of
a Bible story my mama used to tell—one about the angel walking
Peter right on out of King Herod’s jail—because there is no
rational explanation for how I found myself out in the hot, sticky
night sprinting across the prison lawn,” I lost myself in a memory
I’d worked hard to repress.

He sat motionless as I recounted streaking
through the Louisiana night and the days of wandering that
followed.

“I didn’t know where I was going—I was just
putting some distance between me and Dixon Correctional. And then I
stumbled across Anjelita and she took me in. You know the
rest.”

I had talked well into the night. With no
more story to tell, I turned to look into his eyes.

“So, before I answer your question let me ask
one of my own. Now that you know… does your offer still stand?”

“Well, actually, I have a bit of a confession
of my own,” he hesitated briefly before plunging ahead. “I
knew.”

“You… knew?” I blinked a few times.

“Well, not all of it. But quite a bit of it…
yeah, I knew.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about
that.”

“I wanted you to tell me in your own
time.”

“Do you have any idea how torn up I’ve been
over keeping this from you?”

“I had hoped you’d tell me sooner.”

“And risk losing you? Or putting you in a
position to lie for me? Now that I’m out, I really don’t want to go
back…”

“You’re never going back,” he quickly
promised.

“How can you say that with any certainty?
What would it do to Cara if her stepmother wound up in prison?”

“Oh I can promise you that you’re never going
back. If I have to pack up the entire family and leave the country,
you aren’t going back there. I’ve seen that place. You don’t belong
there; you never did.”

“When did you see that place?”

“Visiting a new client,” he hedged. I saw it
in his eyes. It was his turn to keep something from me.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m Mary’s attorney.”

“Oh.”

“Conrad didn’t want you to know. He thought
it would worry you too much.”