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 She rubbed her upper arms as she paced the outdated kitchen in the old house, a nervous knot bouncing around in her chest.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
