The Single Dad's Redemption

But none of them was advertising for help.

The only jobs listed were those he wasn’t suited for. Nurses. Home health aides. Day-care providers. A nanny for infant triplets.

The last one made him shudder.

He glanced heavenward, a rusty prayer forming in his thoughts. Then he just sighed, dropped a couple of bucks on the table and stood.

The kind and loving God of his childhood Sunday-school days sure hadn’t bothered to answer his prayers whenever he’d really needed help, and Connor hadn’t been on speaking terms with God for a long, long time. Why would He care now?

Connor shouldered his duffel bag and headed north on Main toward the campground, thankful that the rain had stopped.

He pulled to an abrupt halt.

Across the street, an old black New Yorker sedan pulled away from the curb and lurched to a stop in the middle of the street. Then the elderly driver laboriously backed up over the curb and swung across the sidewalk, apparently planning to execute a slow-motion three-point turn using the empty lot next to Keeley’s store.

But the car kept going back.

And back.

Until it bumped into a tall wooden ladder propped against the flat roof of the two-story building.

Then the car lurched forward into the street and lumbered away, the driver clearly oblivious to the destruction in his wake as the ladder teetered...then crashed to the ground.

Connor shook his head in disbelief. Did that old duffer even have a driver’s license? At least no one had been on the ladder, which now lay in splinters.

Movement at the top of the building caught his eye and he lifted his gaze to see Keeley standing on the flat-topped roof with a dumbfounded expression, a hammer in one hand and her other hand propped on her slim hip.

His heart took an extra beat.

“Dad,” she shouted, clearly exasperated. “Come back here!”

The car continued down the street at a turtle’s pace.

“Dad!”

The sidewalks were deserted; no other cars were coming down Main. Keeley’s attention swiveled to Connor. “Hey,” she called down to him. “Can you help me?”

Connor walked across the street to the empty lot and studied the splintered ladder. “I think this one is toast. Got another one somewhere?”

She mumbled something he didn’t make out and he couldn’t help but grin up at her. He couldn’t see what she’d been working on, but she was the cutest handyman he’d ever seen, bar none.

“I’ll take that as a no. Want me to call 9-1-1? The fire department or the police?”

“Oh, no. Please no,” she said fervently. “I’d never hear the end of it. Neither would my dad, and he would not handle it well, believe me.”

“Was that ladder the only way up there? Isn’t there an inside stairwell?”

“There is, but only to the second floor. And right now, the trick is getting from here to there. The old iron fire-escape ladder is too weak to use.”

“Isn’t that a fire-code violation?”

“Of course it is. Just last week I had a contractor look at leaks in the roof and give me an estimate on replacing the fire escape.”

The lowering sun backlit her cloud of honey-blond hair, making it gleam with sparkling highlights, though her face was cast in shadow. He suspected she was frowning at him, maybe debating her next move. “So how can I help?”

“Could you go into the store and up the stairs by the storeroom in back? The door’s locked, but there’s a key hanging from a leather thong behind a picture of my mom, just to the left.”

“Now that sounds really secure,” he muttered.

She laughed. “I heard that. But it certainly shows me you’ve never lived in a small town like Aspen Creek. After you come upstairs, go through my apartment to the kitchen in back. If you could just unlock the French doors, then I can jump down onto the second-floor balcony and get back inside without anyone else—like the whole fire department—learning about my dad’s little mistake. Okay?”

He dutifully wound his way through the store, past the glittering chandeliers and stained-glass lamps, old rockers and ornately carved tables glowing in the warm light with the patina of well-loved old age.

With every step he kept an eye out for the fragile doodads parked on every flat surface and hoped he could make it past without knocking anything to the floor.

He expected more of the same—fuss and frills and probably mind-numbing pink ruffles everywhere in Keeley’s personal space. Instead the bright and airy upstairs apartment was like the woman herself—welcoming and classy with its cream walls, white wooden blinds and an eclectic mix of antique and modern furnishings that invited rather than overwhelmed.

But while the apartment felt welcoming, his first step out onto the tipsy balcony in back made him shudder.

At the far edge of the tiny platform he could see the top bar of a wrought-iron fire escape dangling toward the ground, but the wood-plank flooring of the balcony showed ample evidence of rot. Reaching that ladder to escape a fire seemed more risky than just going for a two-story leap off the edge.

The rusted wrought-iron fire-escape ladder heading up to the roof looked even worse.

“None of this is safe,” he called out to her. “I think I’m going to call 9-1-1 after all.”

She peered over the roof edge above him. “No, don’t—please. I’m going to just dangle over the edge and drop lightly. It’ll be fine.”

Maybe until her feet hit the fragile planks and went right through.

“If it’s so fine, why didn’t you set up a ten-foot ladder on the balcony to get up there in the first place?”

“The contractor said the balcony was still serviceable, but I agree with you. It’s one of the next projects on my list.”

Connor eyed the spindly railing and weakened floorboards. “If he thought this was okay, then I’d say he isn’t the guy you want to hire. You need someone with more common sense.”

“Look—I can handle this on my own, now that you’ve unlocked the door. I just need you to step back inside so I don’t land on you. I’ll be careful.”

Connor stepped into the doorway, with one foot still on the balcony.

A moment later she slowly backed over the edge of the roof, her feet dangling a few feet above the floorboards. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into the kitchen before she could drop.

Dressed as she was in a heavy gray sweatshirt and faded jeans, she felt surprisingly delicate and light in his arms, and the soft scent of some sort of flowery perfume wafted into the room.

When was the last time he’d inhaled such a wonderful scent? He couldn’t remember.

“Ooof!” she exclaimed as he quickly released her and stepped back. “Thanks.”

It had been at least six years since he’d held a woman in his arms, and he felt an unaccustomed warmth flowing through him that settled in his chest and robbed him of breath. “Uh...no problem.”

“I really do owe you,” she murmured, averting her gaze as she dusted her hands against her jeans. A rosy blush brightened her cheeks. “You have no idea how much I wanted to avoid having Todd show up—he’s a deputy in town—or the fire-department guys. You can be sure it would’ve been front-page news in the local paper, complete with photographs. Like I said, I would never live it down. And my dad...”

She closed her eyes briefly, clearly cringing at the thought.

“He’s...” Connor hesitated. “Quite a driver.”

Her mouth twitched, and then she laughed softly. “That has to be the understatement of the year. But I promise you, I’ll be taking his keys away. I won’t let him get behind the wheel again and risk someone’s life.”

The small kitchen, with its white cupboards and yellow-checkered curtains, had seemed as bright and airy as the rest of the apartment, but now he felt the walls closing in on him.

Maybe it was the claustrophobia he’d been fighting since walking out of the prison doors.

Maybe it was his increasing awareness of her sparkling green eyes and her creamy skin, or his sudden curiosity about what it might be like to hold her in his arms just one more time. But that was a bad idea.

His ex-wife had provided a painful lesson on the risks of judging women based on beauty, and there was no room in his life for any ties at any rate. The moment his truck was fixed, he needed to be back on the road.

He cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better be going.”

He turned for the door to go downstairs, but she touched his arm and he froze at the warmth of her hand.

“Please—wait. Did you find a job in town?”

He knew what she was going to ask, even before she spoke. He shook his head.

“Have you given any more thought to working here?”

He looked over his shoulder, ready to say no and be on his way, but the hope in her eyes stopped him short. “I wouldn’t be much use. As soon as my truck’s done I need to hit the road, no matter what.”

Her expression inexplicably brightened, though how she heard anything positive in his reply escaped him.

“I totally understand, and that’s fine. Even a week or two would help. Would you be willing to fill out a job application, just in case you change your mind?”

He swallowed hard, knowing it was only fair to tell her the truth before this went any further. A burning wave of humiliation rushed through him over what he now had to reveal to this pretty young woman—one who had probably never received so much as a parking ticket.

“You really wouldn’t want me here.”

“Why not?” A teasing glint sparkled in her eyes. “It isn’t like you’ve just landed on Mars, you know. The store may be slanted to female customers, but the job is easy.”

She sure was determined, he’d give her that. He sighed. “There are things you don’t know about me, ma’am.”

She tossed a grin over her shoulder as she started down the stairs. “Just put it all on the application. You seem like a nice guy, so I’m sure there won’t be any problems.”

That was what she thought.

At the cash-register counter, she handed him another application and a pen, and motioned to the ice-cream table and chair by the front window. “Just have a seat. It won’t take long.”

Defeated by her perseverance and the ingrained Texas manners that precluded arguing with a lady, he skimmed over the application.

There were four places to list previous employers, and his job history certainly had a suspicious five-year hole in it. What should he write there—inmate? Infirmary worker while incarcerated at the Eagle Creek State Prison in Montana?

The job before that was “rodeo cowboy” and before that he’d been the hardworking son of a Texas rancher. Fixing fences, training horses and raising cattle were hardly good work experiences for the kind of employee she needed.

But the part he’d expected—listing past convictions—wasn’t on the form. Maybe times had changed and those details couldn’t be asked.

Yet he couldn’t lie and he wouldn’t hide the truth. He fixed his weary gaze on the glittering baubles hanging over the front counter. “As much as I could use the money, I’m really not your guy.”

She tipped her head and smiled at him. “The cash register is super easy, I promise.”

He sighed heavily. “Your application form doesn’t ask about legal history.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting a comment like that, and drew back. “And?”

“It should.” He fished in his back pocket for his billfold and withdrew a folded photocopy of a newspaper article, smoothed it out on the counter and then handed it to her. “Read this.”

Her mouth dropped open at the headline. She darted a quick look at him then read the brief article he already knew by heart, word for word.

Texan Connor Rafferty, sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Sheriff Carl Dornan, has served five years in the Eagle Creek State Prison. Recent DNA evidence has exonerated Rafferty of all charges and he has been released. No one else has been charged, but state investigators say the case is ongoing...

“Five years,” she breathed, giving him a searching look. “Five years of your life gone and they were wrong?”

He’d expected doubt, suspicion, even instant fear of a man she might still believe to be a cop killer despite laboratory evidence to the contrary. He’d expected her to order him out of her store. He hadn’t expected to see the sympathy in her eyes.

He hitched a shoulder. “That’s about it. But right now I’m just thankful to be free.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” She shook her head slowly. “And for your poor family.”

“Nothing good.” He tucked the article back into his wallet. “I don’t think you want a guy fresh out of prison at your cash register.”

Her brows drew together as she searched his face. “But you weren’t guilty, right?”

“No. But I spent five years behind bars and I’ll be marked by that injustice forever.”

“Maybe you should give people a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Is it worth the risk? If word about my past spreads, people might be afraid to come into your store.”

“You aren’t exactly unique. Marvella Peters is a beautician in town, and one of her nephews in Chicago was released from prison for burglary two years ago. The same situation—based on DNA.” She thought for a moment. “And I saw a television show about this sort of thing, too. At least you aren’t the poor man who put in thirty years before proven innocent.”

He’d spent his years in prison knowing he’d never be freed, given the enormity of the charges against him and a federal sentence without chance of parole. A bleak, suffocating sense of hopelessness had weighed on his chest every minute of every day.

God had forgotten him well before his incarceration and he’d given up on prayer long before that. But now he felt a tentative flare of hope and silent words began to form into a rusty, awkward plea. Was it really possible to start over? To be given a chance?

Please, God. Let it be true. But even as he breathed that prayer, he knew it wasn’t possible.

His own father had never cared enough to forgive him and offer him another chance, so why would the Almighty?

“I’m really sorry, and I hope you won’t be offended, but—” Keeley bit her lower lip. “I—I do need to check out your story. Can I photocopy that article?”

“Of course.”

It would be an easy way out for her, once she thought this through a little longer. A delay, followed by a tactful withdrawal of her job offer.

He didn’t expect anything more.

Chapter Three

The next day Keeley stopped at the sheriff’s office during her lunch break feeling decidedly upbeat. Finally. An employee—and one she felt good about hiring. Was God finally answering her prayers and maybe using her to give this man a new start?

It didn’t take long to receive a second opinion on Connor Rafferty.

“How much worse could this guy be?” Deputy Todd Hansmann shoved the job application back across his desk and threw up his hands in disgust. “An ex-con? Are you crazy?”

Keeley rolled her eyes. His irritable tone confirmed that she’d been right to firmly decline Todd’s occasional offers for dinner or a movie when she’d first moved back to Aspen Creek.

Now he was engaged to a take-charge redhead named Nina, who didn’t take sass from anyone and who managed the one grocery store in town. They seemed like a perfect match.

“No, I’m not crazy.” She stabbed her forefinger at the photocopied newspaper clipping. “If I was, I would’ve hired him without checking out his story. But I’ve read about counterfeiters making currency with a computer, so I wanted to make sure this newspaper article wasn’t faked. Can you verify this for me?”

He snorted. “Lorraine is running a background check right now. But since he spent five years in the slammer, there must have been some mighty compelling evidence to lock him up in the first place. If he got released on some technicality—”

“DNA is not a technicality. It’s proof. Right?”

“But he got arrested, Keel. The cops must have had good reason to be suspicious. If he was just some innocent, random guy, why did they ever consider him? Maybe he has a long history of being a troublemaker.”

“Exonerated, it says,” Keeley repeated, her light mood dissipating.

“That aside, prison changes a man, Keel. And not for the better. I still think—” At the buzz of the intercom on his desk, Todd pushed his chair back. “Just hold on a minute.”

Five minutes later he was back with several pages of printouts in hand, his mouth twisted into an unpleasant grimace. “Lorraine finished the background check. Apparently his story is true.”

“So someone in law enforcement was careless and he paid for their mistakes?”

“There were DNA errors, apparently. His legal record has been wiped clean. Uh... Lorraine even found some articles about the case and his release through the National Registry of Exonerations.”

A feeling of jubilation bubbled up in Keeley’s chest. “I told you!”

“You still shouldn’t take any chances.”

“Really, Todd.”

“Think about the kind of prisoners he’s been associating with...and about that last new employee of yours. Mandy. Candy—whatever her name was.”

“Mindy. I hardly think this guy would abscond with froufrou from the store.”

Todd’s eyes narrowed on her. “No, but he might run off with the cash register. Does your brother know about this? Your sister?”

They’d all gone to elementary through high school together here in town, so he knew her siblings well enough to track them down and give each a call.

Brad, a doctor in Cleveland, and Liza, a tax attorney in St. Paul, would have plenty to say if they learned of Keeley’s plans, and knowing Todd, they would probably be finding out all too soon.

She tried to hold back her rising irritation. “Why would this matter to them? They aren’t partners in my store, Todd. I don’t answer to anyone but myself.”

“Still—”

“I appreciate your concern, but this is my decision.” She reached across the counter and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thanks for the background check.”

He glowered at her. “So you’re going to hire a felon.”

She bit back a sharp retort and summoned a more reasonable tone. “Is he still a felon if proved innocent via irrefutable proof?”

She’d come here to make sure Connor’s story was true. That accomplished, it was time to leave before she said something she would regret. “I was really happy to hear about your engagement, by the way. Say hi to Nina for me, okay?”

Todd waved away the pleasantries and made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “Did you know that they’ve never found another suspect for that murder? None? I hope that makes you think twice.”

* * *

Keeley left the sheriff’s office fuming at Todd’s unwavering opinion about her lack of common sense.

But with the help of a hot dog plus a large Heath Bar Blizzard for lunch at the Dairy Queen, followed by a fast-paced, twenty-minute walk, she’d calmed down enough to realize that she at least owed it to herself to check out Connor’s story a little further.

Maybe she was a tad impetuous at times—not that she’d admit it to Todd or her father—and she often led with her heart instead of her head when it came to assessing people and their intentions. But was that so wrong?

Maybe at times, as evidenced by the last three clerks she’d hired. And if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that she could understand Todd’s concern.

She’d been stunned when Connor walked into her shop moments after she’d recklessly promised God—in prayer, which surely must be binding—that she’d trust Him and would offer a job to the next person who walked into her store.

But she’d expected a nicely dressed middle-aged woman to come in the door—her usual sort of clientele—not a tall, lean cowboy whose handsome, chiseled face belonged on a hero in a Western movie. And she hadn’t exactly expected he’d be fresh out of prison, either—no matter what the circumstances of his incarceration. Had Connor been completely honest with her?

She’d felt a shiver of instant attraction when he’d come into her store, and when he’d briefly held her in his arms while helping her down from the roof, her pulse had kicked into overdrive and her stomach had fluttered. She’d felt the warmth of an embarrassing blush rise to her face.

But whatever her foolish reaction might have been to this stranger, she would be stupid not to check out his story even further. His thick black hair, silvery blue eyes and strong jaw might be compelling, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy.

Keeley got back in her car and drove slowly past Red’s Mechanic Shop & Wrecker Service. The three garage doors were all open, revealing a trio of SUVs in the service bays.

Her heart dropped. Just as she’d feared, there wasn’t a pickup in sight. Had Connor lied about the reason he was in town?

Maybe he’d just been casing her store...

At that thought, she had to laugh.

With her current financial state, there would be little cash to steal, and what interest could he possibly have in costume jewelry, local artists and pretty little antiques?

She turned around, pulled into the parking area and went looking for Red. He was sitting with his feet propped up at his desk in the cramped office, his thick fingers stained black with grease and motor oil, eating a sandwich.

He waved her toward a chair filled with a haphazard stack of invoices. “So how’s that New Yorker running, missy?”

At thirty-one, she was still “missy” to the man who had been fixing her dad’s cars for forty years. She smiled. “Like a clock. You do great work.”

“It ought to last another hundred thousand, but I’m not so sure about your dad, though.”

“That he’ll last that long?”

“That he oughta drive that long. I hear he had a little trouble yesterday afternoon.”

She fidgeted with her keys. “Oh?”

“Millie Ferguson was closing up her shop and saw him make some pretty strange moves on Main.”

Keeley groaned. Knitting Pretty was across the street from her own shop and just a couple of doors down. Its bay windows offered Millie a stellar view of everything happening on Main. She never missed a thing, and she never hesitated to share it.

“How did you hear about that?”

“At the coffee shop this morning. Good thing no one else was on the street.”

“Did...she say anything else?”

He chuckled. “Only that she saw a handsome cowboy talking to you yesterday. And she said she’s gonna keep a sharp eye out for your dad’s car and stay out of his way.”

If Dad’s little accident was already fodder for the coffee-shop crowd, then the whole town knew. “I just hope no one razzes him about it.”

“I imagine they will. No doubt about it.” He took another bite and continued talking around the mouthful. “So what can I do for you?”

Well, this was awkward. “I, um... Nothing, really. I heard you towed in a pickup yesterday.”

He lowered the sandwich and winked. “The cowboy. Is he a close friend of yours, by any chance?”

She could see the Aspen Creek gossip mill churning if she didn’t make things perfectly clear. “Actually, he might work at my store for a couple weeks while he’s waiting for his truck. But I was just driving by and didn’t see it on any of your lifts.”

“It’s parked out back.”

Relief washed through her. “Thanks.”

“I’ll get to it as soon as I can. But maybe you’ll want him to stick around longer.” Red grinned and reached over to give her a pat on the shoulder with a beefy paw. “I’ve never been one to stand in the way of true love, you know.”

She cringed at the way he warbled out the last words.

Red had always liked to tease her whenever she’d stopped here with Dad as a little girl. Now she wished she hadn’t come by to snoop. “Nothing of the kind,” she said firmly. “He’s just a potential employee.”

Red gave her a knowing look as he took another bite of his sandwich. “Whatever you say, darlin’. Whatever you say.”