Читать книгу Their Family Legacy - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 13
ОглавлениеHe’d be here today.
A nervous knot formed in Annelle Shepard’s chest. In just a couple of hours she’d have to confront the man who killed her cousin and best friend fifteen years ago, Jacob Langford. She had no desire to meet him face-to-face. Ever. But if she wanted to keep her aunt’s estate, this beautiful old home and the financial bequest that would give her room to breathe after years of living pillar to post, then she had to fulfill the terms of the will. Every year on the anniversary of her cousin’s death she had to accept a dollar from Langford until either of them died.
The whole concept left a bad taste in her mouth. No amount of penance could bring back her cousin. Her aunt’s persistence in making this man pay for his crime bordered on insanity and she resented being forced into participating.
But the bottom line was she needed a home for her boys. One that no one could gamble away, or foreclose for failure to pay the mortgage. Aunt Margaret’s house provided a safe and permanent place to raise her ten-year-old twin boys, Tyler and Ryan. Here they could put down roots and live a quiet, normal life without the constant tension and chaos of a drunken husband and father.
A knock sounded on her front door and she inhaled sharply, glancing at the clock. It was too soon for the man to be here. He’d agreed to come by sometime early in the afternoon. This was probably her neighbor Denise coming to get her boys. She’d offered to take them to the splash park for the afternoon so Annie could deal with the official meeting without interruption.
Denise Sanderson was an added blessing in her move back to Hastings. She lived next door, and Annie’s twins and Denise’s three children—Steve, Johnny and Tina—were close in age and played well together. Denise had been a huge help in recommending doctors, a good church and putting her in touch with a widow’s support group that Denise said had helped her sister move forward with her life. It had been two years since Annie’s husband Rick’s death and she still struggled with certain aspects of widowhood.
She opened the door with a smile.
“Are they ready?” Denise stepped into the hall just as the boys raced down the stairs.
“Bye, Mom.” Two voices spoke as one.
“Hold up there, fellas. You behave for Miss Denise. Do you hear me? And watch out for each other.”
“We will.” They answered in unison.
Denise ushered the boys out onto the porch. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay for this meeting?”
Annie appreciated her friend’s concern. She’d been battling life on her own for so long, it was nice to have someone who cared. “Absolutely. Thanks for watching them for me.”
Denise chuckled. “I’ll get you back—don’t worry.”
Annie waved goodbye as the boys climbed into Denise’s car, and then she went back inside and glanced at the clock. She rubbed her upper arms as she paced the outdated kitchen in the old house, a nervous knot bouncing around in her chest. Maybe she should have demanded a specific time for the meeting. The waiting was unbearable.
Her gaze landed on the clock again. Once she got past this obligatory meeting she could put it behind her for a year and get on with her life. Denise had expressed concern for her safety meeting a stranger. She couldn’t deny a certain amount of apprehension. Annie had a mental image of Langford in her mind of a bad-boy foster kid, driving drunk, raising cane. He’d be a big man, built like a wrestler, with tattoos covering his arms and neck and maybe even his face. He’d have black eyes beneath a protruding brow and a hard, unforgiving mouth held in a permanent sneer.
Would she be safe? A resolve born from years of standing up to a drunken husband infused her with courage. How hard could this meeting be? If he failed to show up then he’d be sent to jail. If he did, then he was here to meet his obligation and he would leave. Then she could get back to making this place a real home. The old 1920s brick foursquare house might be old and cluttered and in need of love, but it was hers and she could make it the home she’d always dreamed about. This would be her forever home and the place her boys would come back to with their families someday.
A loud knock on the door froze her in her tracks, forcing her to question her resolve. She closed her eyes and prayed for courage. She’d do whatever was necessary to make a safe home for her boys. Even meeting a murderer face-to-face and accepting his one-dollar penance.
* * *
Jake knocked firmly on the front door of Mrs. Owen’s house, his insides twisted into a knot. He’d hoped to never have to perform this distasteful ritual again. But here he was. His fingers closed around the dollar bill in his pocket. Lord, give me peace and strength to face this woman. Fifteen times he’d made this pilgrimage. How many more would there be before he was set free?
When Mrs. Owens had died, he’d expected his sentence would end. But then he’d been notified that the heir to her estate would be continuing his yearly obligation. Apparently Mrs. Owens wanted him to pay for the rest of his life. No doubt the woman would be a younger version of her aunt, a tight-lipped, scowling woman with cold, accusing eyes. The best he could hope for was that the niece would spare him the excessive humiliation her aunt enjoyed dispensing.
Jake rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been behind the wheel when the accident that killed his friend Bobby Lee Owens had occurred. They’d both been drinking when they started home from a party before losing control and hitting a tree.
Bobby Lee’s parents weren’t satisfied with Jake going to jail for a year for involuntary manslaughter. They wanted him to pay a bigger price. As mayor of Hastings and close friends with the local judge, Mr. Owens was able to concoct an unusual sentence. Once a year, on the day of Bobby Lee’s death, Jake would come to the Owens home and pay them a dollar. They wanted to make sure that he never forgot what he’d done.
At the time he’d agreed to the arrangement. It seemed a better choice than going to jail. Besides, he was the foster kid on the block. Bobby Lee was the town’s golden boy. What choice did he have?
The thing was, he didn’t need a court order to remember the date or what had happened. Being forced to confront the Owens each year only poured salt in his unhealed wounds.
The wide mahogany door swung open. He caught his breath. The woman standing there was no pinched-faced spinster with hate-filled eyes. Quite the opposite. She was blonde with wide blue eyes the color of chicory flowers, and hair the golden shade of early wheat. He guessed her age to be close to his own. There was a sweet freshness about her that brought a smile to his lips, which he quickly stopped. He was here to serve his sentence, not to charm a pretty lady.
He braced himself for the confrontation to come. She smiled, bringing a light into her blue eyes that captivated him. There was something lovely and appealing about her girl-next-door looks. She stood about five foot four, with a determined posture that said she was used to taking care of herself.
“Can I help you?”
The question threw him until he remembered she probably had no idea who he was. “I’m Jake Langford.”
The friendly smile quickly turned to a look of stunned shock. Her gaze made a quick survey of his frame and a frown creased her forehead. The light in her eyes darkened.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve been expecting you. I’m Annelle Shepard. Margaret Owens was my aunt.”
Her voice was rich and musical. He cleared his throat. “Yes, so I was told.” He stood stock still, waiting for her to make the next move. This was usually the point at which Mrs. Owens would hold out her hand for his payment, a sneer on her lips and fire in her eyes as she slowly took the bill from his hand. Then the diatribe would begin.
The niece took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest in the same manner as her aunt. Here it comes. He dreaded hearing angry words from this lovely woman. Her sunny looks suggested that she didn’t know the first thing about hate or revenge. But then he wasn’t a real good judge of character. He met her gaze and saw the blue eyes held puzzlement. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Maybe the same was true on her end.
She broke eye contact. “I think you have something for me?”
He drew the bill from his pocket, smoothed it out between his fingers and handed it to her. She stared at the money as if it was poison. He could read reluctance and perhaps distaste in her posture. Was it possible that she wasn’t as committed to punishing him forever as her aunt had been?
She took the dollar with one quick movement. “Thank you. I’ll inform the attorney that you’ve met your obligation.”
Jake nodded, unable to believe his ears. “There’s nothing else?”
“Such as?”
He debated whether to explain or simply turn and leave. No need to stir the pot, but he found himself rooted to the porch by a growing curiosity about the lovely niece. “Your aunt usually liked to expound on what happened that day.”
A faint rosy tinge stained her cheeks. “I’m sure she did. You did take the life of her only son and my best friend.”
He searched his memory for one of this pretty woman as a girl. “I don’t remember you.”
“We moved away when I was fourteen. I never saw Bobby Lee again. You’re responsible for that.”
Her words pierced like a knife. There was nothing he could say. “If that’s all, I need to be going.”
Mrs. Shepherd’s blue eyes searched his face. “Yes. We’re done. Until next year.”
Jake spoke before he could censor his words. “And the year after that, and the year after that.”
The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed rapidly. “I didn’t make this arrangement, Mr. Langford.”
“But you’re choosing to continue it.”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I have my reasons.”
“I’m sure you do. Goodbye.” He pivoted and took the steps slowly, replaying the encounter in his mind, examining every moment. Today’s exchange was totally different from years past. Mrs. Owens had taken great pleasure in reminding him of all the joys of life her son would never know. College, marriage, children and whatever else she had dreamed up in her warped mind. The woman had been bitter and vindictive.
Annelle Shepherd on the other hand appeared to be the opposite. He hadn’t sensed any anger in her tone or attitude, only resolve. At the sidewalk he turned and glanced back at the house. Mrs. Shepherd was still standing in the door, studying him. She darted back inside quickly and shut the door.
For the first time in fifteen years, Jake wished he had to pay another dollar tomorrow. He definitely wanted to know more about his new warden.
* * *
Annie shut the door, blocking her view of the departing Jake Langford. She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart. Her anxiety over her first encounter with the man had been replaced by surprise and confusion.
He was nothing like she’d expected, and she was unsure how to deal with the discovery. In her mind she’d always seen him as hard and unfeeling, with no respect for anyone. But the man who’d come to her door dressed in neatly pressed khaki pants and a pale green polo shirt resembled more of a successful business man than a hardened criminal.
He’d stood a good six feet, maybe more, with broad shoulders, a lean physique and warm, intelligent brown eyes. His dark walnut-toned hair was thick and perfectly styled. The intriguing angle of his features cast interesting shadows on his high cheekbones and generous mouth. The deep creases at the corners of his mouth peeked out when he spoke and softened the sharp line of his jaw.
Annie stared at the dollar in her hand. What was she supposed to do with it? Save it? Spend it? First she had to report it. Reaching for her phone she opened her contacts list. Her aunt’s attorney, Dalton Hall, took her call immediately. “How did it go?”
“Fine. He handed me the money and left.”
“Really? He didn’t give you any trouble?”
Mr. Hall’s tone revealed his surprise. “No. He was polite and respectful.”
“He wasn’t upset that the sentence is continuing?”
Clearly this year’s meeting had not developed the same way in the past. “I think he probably was, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, I had the impression that he regretted what happened.” That was a surprise.
“Interesting. Your aunt usually reported extensive verbal confrontations.”
She found it hard to imagine the polite, soft-spoken man at her door becoming belligerent. “He didn’t do anything like that.” A wave of sympathy coursed through her. It seemed cruel to force a man to relive the worst day of his life year after year. But she didn’t know how she would react if she were in the same position and had lost her son to a drunk driver. “It seems odd to me that she’d insist on maintaining this arrangement.”
“Your aunt was a very unhappy woman, Mrs. Shepherd. I tried repeatedly to persuade her to let go of this arrangement, but she was adamant.”
“I guess I can’t blame her. Langford’s actions cost them their only child. Her grief must have been overwhelming.”
“I suppose so. Thank you for reporting.”
After promising to contact him if she needed anything, she ended the call and slipped the phone in her shorts pocket, breathing a deep sigh of relief. All in all, the whole encounter had gone quickly and with no conflict at all. If these yearly visits were as easy as today, then she could stop worrying about it. Though she was puzzled by the contradiction in what she’d been told and what had occurred just now. Her Aunt Margaret had always complained to Annie’s mother about how difficult the yearly meetings were, how the man showed no remorse or concern for the pain he had caused her family.
The whole arrangement with Langford made her uncomfortable. It seemed excessive, harsh and not at all like the sweet, fun-loving aunt she remembered from childhood. Since meeting him face-to-face, she found it hard to believe that he was so cold and hard-hearted that he didn’t regret what happened. Prolonging his sentence served no purpose.
What kind of burden did the irrational sentence impose on him? Was he able to push it to the back of his mind for three hundred and sixty-four days or did it nag at him like a pebble in his shoe, never far from his thoughts? Annie shoved the encounter to the back of her mind. Accepting his money was a small price to pay for inheriting a home for her boys and financial security.
She folded the dollar bill in half and placed it in the desk drawer in the living room and turned her attention to her next task, getting her new home in order. The house had been closed up like a tomb for years and her aunt had buried herself inside with her possessions, which explained why the rooms had smelled musty when they’d first walked in. Even leaving the windows open for a few days hadn’t chased the smell away completely.
In the two weeks they’d been here, she only managed to clean out the bedrooms and the family room. Her next objective was to remove the excess furniture and then tackle the kitchen, which was overstuffed with enough food for a decade. She had big plans for this house. With a little paint, some updating and a lot of hard work it could be something special.
As she made her way to the stairs, her gaze drifted to the front door. For some reason she couldn’t get Jake Langford out of her mind. She had a feeling it would have been a lot easier to dismiss the meeting if he was more like the image in her mind, and not the attractive man he was.
She hated that she even noticed his good looks. There had been an aura of strength and control about him. His eyes were intelligent and thoughtful. If she’d met him under different circumstances she would have called him warm and friendly.
But the circumstances weren’t different. Besides, men had no place in her life. Ever again. Her only goal was to provide for her boys. Her new teaching position at Jefferson Elementary started soon and her first faculty meeting was this week.
Thankfully she’d be too preoccupied with work to think about Langford. She wouldn’t see him again for a year.
* * *
Jake finished tying his running shoes the next morning before grabbing his vibrating cell phone. His good friend Harley Evan’s name was displayed. “Hey. Make it quick. I’m going on a run.”
“Did you know that Coach Baker at Hillcrest High is retiring after this year?”
Not what he’d expected his friend to say. “No kidding. Is Dave Morrow taking over?”
“No. That’s why I’m calling. The athletic director is looking for someone younger to fill the spot. You need to put your application in before anyone else does.”
It was an opportunity he’d been hoping for. Moving back to Hastings had been a blessing, but it had dealt a blow to his long-term career goal of coaching at the college level. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll check it out. I have to admit I miss real coaching. The junior high kids at Jefferson are great, but I can’t say it’s as rewarding as coaching real athletes.”
“I hear you, buddy. Don’t put this off. I think you have a real shot at this.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. So. How did it go yesterday?”
Jake rubbed his forehead. He didn’t really want to go over that again, but Harley deserved an answer. He’d been through all of this with him. “Better than I expected.”
“That’s good. What’s she like? A younger version of her aunt?”
“No, she’s a complete opposite. She’s pretty and very nice.” There was slight pause before his friend responded.
“So no angry rants or accusations?”
“None. She took the dollar and I left.”
“Interesting. So you’re okay?”
“Of course.” A bit confused but relieved he hadn’t had to withstand a barrage of hateful speech.
“Then I’ll see you later. Don’t forget about that application.”
Harley’s news churned in Jake’s mind, gaining speed as he went through his warmup routine. He needed to get on top of this. He’d go see the athletic director soon and pick up the application in person, show them that he was serious and demonstrate his interest.
The August weather was intolerable today. High heat and high humidity, but a great day to run. Running always cleared his head and put everything into perspective. After his encounter with Mrs. Shepherd yesterday, he’d spent a restless night, and he needed to sort things out.
Jake finished his five miles around the neighborhood in record time. He slowed his pace as he turned onto Birch Street, heading home. He saw Mrs. Shepherd coming down her front walkway as he approached her house. Avoiding her was his best option. She wouldn’t be glad to see him, but there was no time to stop and turn around or cross over to the other side without calling attention to himself and appearing rude.
He slowed to a walk, waiting for her to look up. When she did, her blue eyes widened in surprise and then darkened with the speed of a pop-up summer storm.
“What are you doing here?”
He wondered if all her emotions were so easily displayed. “Running. I run every day.”
“Why here?” She set her jaw and planted her hands on her hips. “Are you stalking me?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He’d expected her to think the worst of him. Everyone always did. “I live here.” He pointed to his Victorian home across the street. “Right there.”
The look of horror on her face stung. He’d never considered how she might feel about having the man responsible for her cousin’s death so close. Her aunt had been a hermit. He’d lived in the neighborhood for months before she’d realized he was there. He’d only seen her once after that when he’d paid his penance. Not long after, she’d moved to a nursing home and passed a short time later.
“No. You can’t live here.” She took her hair in her hands and pulled it behind her ears. “Why would you come back to Hastings after what you did? Why would you move into a house so close to my aunt?”
He squared his shoulders. He should have anticipated this. He took a second to get control. “I moved back because I got a job here, and I live in that house because it’s the only home I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes widened again but this time from surprise. Like many people, she hadn’t expected him to have feelings or a sentimental streak. After all, he was only a foster kid. He didn’t count. A shaft of cold shot through his chest. Some things never changed. The stigma of being a foster child would stain him forever.
“Have a good day.” He nodded and then turned and jogged across the street.
If nothing else, the incident had dampened his curiosity about Mrs. Owens’s lovely niece. As far as she was concerned, he was a pariah. He’d secretly hoped Mrs. Shepherd would be more understanding than her aunt. Apparently not. So be it.
He had an application to fill out and maybe a campaign to launch. He’d show the powers that be that he was the perfect one to fill the coaching job. In the meantime he’d be wise to mind his own business. As for Annelle Shepherd, he’d have to put her out of his mind until next year. Just because she lived across the street didn’t mean they had to interact. He’d stick to his side of the street and she to hers. Life would go on as usual.
As his friend liked to point out, he could only control his own reactions, not those of others. No matter how much he wanted to. Just like he could never escape the fact he was a murderer. Not until he met his maker.
