Free Trust in Me by Kathryn Shay Page A

known you to be afraid of anything.”
    His eyes got so bleak, she was silenced by their expression. “I’m afraid,” he said simply. “Of a lot of things.” He drew in a deep breath. “I always was. All I’m asking for is a chance. If you’ll go along with my request, I promise I’ll do this however you say, but I’ve got to see my kids.”
    He was right. He did have legal rights, no matter what he’d done. After she got healthy, Annie had researched domestic abuse. Some batterers were even left in the home with their families while they went through a legally mandated recovery program, probably like the one Joe had been in. After six years of rehabilitation and counseling, then coming here as a cross between Doctor Spock and Sigmund Freud, any court in the world would let Joe Murphy see his kids.
    So she said, “I’ll think about it.”
    Linc sighed. “Annie, there’s something else. This is a small town. By tomorrow, everybody’ll know he’s back. Matt and Faith will hear it at the corner store.”
    She nodded. “I’ll tell them in the morning. I’d like to leave now.”
    Joe stopped her with his words. “I’d like to tell my mother and Suzie.”
    Who was at her house. It would be hard to keep Joe’s arrival in Glen Oaks a secret from her sister-in-law. She loved Suzie like a real sister and valued her friendship, not to mention her partnership in the business.
    “I plan to visit them tomorrow morning,” Joe added. “It will be easier for them if I let them know I’m back.”
    She looked to Linc.
    “I agree,” he said.
    “Fine. I d like to go now, Linc. I’m whipped.”
    Linc told Joe he would get in touch with him at the motel just outside of town where he was staying, and they both left without saying goodbye. Joe stayed where he was, and Annie felt his eyes bore into her as they left the tension-filled room.
     

 
    Chapter 4
    FOR one of the first times in his life, Ron Donovan was down-and-dirty scared. He glanced over at his mother, who sat like a stick in the chair, dressed in a dark skirt and fuzzy pink sweater, as she listened to the Youth Council members discuss his latest sin. Her pretty brown hair was pulled off her face in a knot, making her look fragile.
    She hadn’t laid a guilt trip on him, though. She’d just made him hot chocolate that first night, as she always did when things got bad, and tried to get him to spill his guts the next day. And that made him feel like pond scum. But he couldn’t talk to her about this.
    Catching him staring at her, she reached over and squeezed his arm. No matter what, buddy, we’ll get through this , she’d told him a thousand times. But he’d heard her crying at night, alone in her room, like she hadn’t cried since his dad died. That worried him more than anything. His mother was tougher than anybody he knew. What he’d done this time had really thrown her, probably because it concerned his father.
    Or maybe because her only son could go to jail. His gut clenched. His only hope of reprieve, the eight people seated at the table in front of him, seemed about as sympathetic as a jury for Jeffrey Dahmer.
    On the other side of him, his aunt Margo smiled at him, too, foxy as ever in cool black jeans, a black sweater and boots. Huge gold hoops dangled from her ears and matched the jangling bracelets on her wrist. He’d known he was in deep shit when she’d shown up from the city to go to the Council meeting with them; but he’d been glad to see her. About the only person in the world who understood him these days was Margo Morelli, his mom’s best friend. Because she hated Glen Oaks as much as he did and there was something inside her, a streak of rebelliousness, that he recognized as kin to his own. However, the fact that she’d come home for this meeting was a wake-up call to Ron.
    As the mayor droned on about his priors—truancy, vandalism, petty theft, possession of marijuana, underage drinking with a DUI—Ron checked out his