A Mother's Promise

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll only look at her.”

“You’re outside your visiting hours, girl. You weren’t supposed to come until Sunday.”

“I know that. Please?” Lisa despised begging, but swallowed her pride. She’d be on her knees if it would help her cause. “Please, Aunt Katherine. I can’t wait till Sunday. It’s been months—”

“Let her in, Kate.” Mark’s commanding tone had an underlying note of compassion.

Lisa held her breath. She didn’t dare acknowledge Mark’s help.

Katherine’s lips thinned, but after flashing Mark an enraged glare, she swung the door wide. “All right. But only for a minute, y’hear? If you make any trouble, then don’t expect to come here on Sunday. Now don’t you dare wake the child. She’s got nursery school in the morning.”

“She does?” Lisa stepped inside, so eager that she barely kept herself from racing to the tiny back bedroom where she’d stayed with her mother. “Oh. I didn’t know…you didn’t tell me…”

The house smelled the same—of strong disinfectant and furniture polish. A fast glimpse of the hall bathroom as she passed showed the same bowl of plastic flowers she remembered on the vanity. Only a foam ball on the floor indicated a change in her aunt’s routine.

Katherine followed close on her heels, still hissing a protest. “This isn’t wise, Lisa. If Mrs. Braddock hears about this…”

Mention of her parole officer was a threat Lisa expected.

“Mrs. Braddock would understand.” She hoped. “She has grandchildren…”

Tiptoeing, Lisa crept to the side of the white daybed that had replaced the old double bed she recalled. A small form barely raised the blanket.

Her breathing grew shallow as she gazed at her daughter. Cecily lay on her side, her tiny palm under her cheek, her mouth pink and sweetly bowed. Light-brown curls covered the little girl’s head, and Lisa tentatively brushed them with a butterfly touch. She yearned to hold her, to kiss those plump cheeks. To hear the music of her giggles and sing the duck song Cecily had loved just before they were parted.

What was her favorite song now? Did she still hate carrots? She’d grown, Lisa realized. Her limbs were longer. How tall was she now? Could she skip? Lisa could remember her little girl trying to get both feet to cooperate.

Had she forgotten her mother?

“Hi, baby,” she whispered, stroking one tiny hand.

Fierce possessiveness gripped Lisa’s heart, while silent tears gathered. She didn’t even try to stop their slide down her cheeks. Cecily was her one bright star. Lisa would do whatever she had to to get her daughter back. To protect her…

“Mommy’s here. I came to see you as soon as I could.” She was three years old, yet Cecily’s skin still felt baby-soft.

“Your five minutes are up,” Katherine said.

Lisa continued to gaze at her daughter. Hers. Not Katherine’s.

Not Rudy’s, either, in spite of the biological truth. But saddling Cecily with that knowledge wasn’t in Lisa’s plans. Getting involved with Rudy was her sin, not her daughter’s, and she’d paid dearly with humiliation and total disillusionment. At her age, too, when it was expected she’d have gained some smarts. She’d been so stupid.

Only her acceptance of God’s forgiveness had restored anything left of hope for her.

Lisa couldn’t lay the piece of garbage that Rudy was on Cecily and expect her to grow up whole, and with any self-confidence. Lisa had suffered that kind of childhood—she wouldn’t inflict it on her own daughter. And Rudy didn’t want them, a truth that had come down on her like an ancient burial stone at the time.

Oddly enough, she now thanked God for Rudy’s disinterest. Growing up without a father wasn’t the worst of sins, as she knew. Plenty of kids were raised by only one parent. She was ready to accept that the blame and blessing of Cecily’s birth was hers alone.

Only a few months ago, while in Beth Anne’s company, Lisa had vowed to God that if He’d only help her to be free of her past, she’d be the best mother to Cecily she could. She’d live her life on that narrow, sin-free path that the Bible described could be hers through Jesus, and she would teach Cecily His ways.

Now she had to prove it. To the courts. To Aunt Katherine. To herself. And to God, if she expected Him to help her.

“That’s enough,” Katherine hissed, hauling Lisa’s dreams out of the clouds. The older woman’s fingers pinched her upper arm, urging her from the room.

Giving Cecily one last glance, Lisa bit her lip. Every cell in her body protested leaving Cecily, but if she hoped to win back the right to raise her child, she had to cooperate now. She’d already pushed her luck for tonight.

“Thank you,” she murmured past the emotion that clogged her throat. She moved slowly out of the tiny bedroom and down the hall toward the living room.

“You should be grateful,” Aunt Katherine said with a sniff. “You’re lucky we’ve agreed to care for Cecily.”

“I am, Aunt Katherine. Really.” At least she knew where Cecily was, and that the child was safe and well looked after. Some of the women she’d met while serving her sentence had children in foster homes and no hope of getting them back.

“Humph… With your irresponsible behavior, I’m surprised the court didn’t step in and take her away from you altogether. And if you start that wild life—”

“That’s in the past, Aunt Katherine. I’ve changed. I’m working hard, taking all the overtime I can get at the restaurant to save money, and keeping my nose clean. Soon I’ll have enough to make a home for Cecily again. Uncle Fred can tell you.”

“Oh, Fred.” Katherine made a brushing motion as if to rid herself of a disgusting piece of lint. “What does he know? He’s just like your mother, good for nothing but partying on a Saturday night. A weak, sorry excuse of a man.”

“Well, that’s not—” Lisa caught herself. Arguing with Aunt Katherine would only antagonize her further. And there was a glimmer of truth in the accusations. But at least Uncle Fred had offered Lisa a place to live in his tiny ramshackle house until she could get on her feet. Until she could make a home for Cecily again. “Uncle Fred’s okay.”

“Still rebellious, aren’t you?”

“No, really… I have changed. I won’t make any more stupid moves.”

“Humph! Your coming here tonight doesn’t exactly show intelligence, now does it? And you’re out running the roads past your curfew. That hasn’t changed.”

“I couldn’t help myself this time, Aunt Katherine. I had to see Cecily. I’m leaving now. I’ll go straight home, I promise. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard that one before. Excuses, always excuses. From your mother and from you. Your mother couldn’t hold a job because she was always sick. You—you’re so smart that you got yourself mixed up with a married man who gave you a child, and then landed you in jail. What kind of a mother is that for Cecily? One that breaks the law! I have half a mind to call Mrs. Braddock.”

Almost out of the door, Lisa turned abruptly. She’d been home for less than a week and didn’t know her parole officer that well. “Please, Aunt Katherine…”

Catching a glimpse of triumph in Katherine’s gaze, she felt her stomach sink. Begging didn’t always help, she’d discovered.

Lisa straightened her back and lifted her chin. She was through with begging—from anyone. She was through taking any more guff, too. She was the first to admit she’d made some half-witted mistakes in judging the men in her life, but that was in the past. Beth Anne had assured her that the Lord’s forgiveness and grace was there for her, it was for anyone—a promise she clung to as her lifeline out of a hellish situation.

“You won’t have to, Aunt Katherine,” she said, determined to tell the unvarnished truth whenever it was called for, and take any knocks that came her way. “Because I’ll tell her about this myself. I’m due to see her tomorrow, and I’ll explain about coming.”

Katherine’s blue eyes glinted like granite. “You’d better get rid of that chip you carry on your shoulder, my girl, or you won’t have any friends left to listen to you whine. And you just may lose your rights to see Cecily again until the child is grown.”

This time, Katherine’s threat held a bite. Her heart in her throat, Lisa took half a step forward, facing the other woman toe to toe. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve consulted a lawyer about adopting Cecily.”

“You can’t do that, Aunt Katherine! I don’t intend to give Cecily up.”

“You’re an unfit mother! I think that will speak in the court system.”

Lisa gritted her teeth to prevent herself from saying something she’d regret. “I never once neglected Cecily, ever,” she said at last. “I made some bad choices about…about her father, that’s true, but I thought— Never mind. I love Cecily with my last breath. I won’t sign any such papers.”

“That still might not affect what a judge decides,” Katherine warned, a gleeful note in her voice.

“My life is different now.” Lisa prayed her fear wouldn’t rob her of determination to put her old ways behind her. She had changed, but she hadn’t had much time on her side to prove it. “Any judge will take that into account.”

“We’ll see, won’t we? We’ll just see.”

Those words resounded in Lisa’s ears all the way home. A threat. Rage and a sense of betrayal made her seethe. What a hard case Aunt Katherine could be. Well, she’d show her…she’d show everybody.

But in her own way, at least Aunt Katherine cared about Cecily. She would take good care of her.

Lisa shook her head to dispel her irritations. To get her daughter back, she had to look out for herself, to plan and save, to be prepared and strong. Not like before.

Lord have mercy, she’d been so gullible… At her age, too. She’d been long past the time in life when one could label such dewy-eyed trust as youthful foolishness.

Never again.

If only she could find Rudy, that double-dealing, lying two-headed snake. If she could track him down, she’d personally throttle him until his face went purple. Then she’d kick him until he couldn’t sit and truss him up like a prize deer, tie him atop the truck, and parade him all the way to the police department.

She nosed the old truck onto the gravel space that Uncle Fred used as a parking spot, picturing how silly and satisfying such a sight would be. She even felt a chuckle bubbling up at the thought. Then she sighed. Beth Anne and everyone else would say she should let the police handle Rudy. Or point out the Lord’s directive, “Revenge is mine…”

“I can’t do that just yet, Lord,” she muttered aloud. “I have to know that skunk is going to pay for what he’s done.”

If she ever got Rudy in her sights again, she’d go after him with everything she had in her power, and she didn’t envision a pretty outcome. Over the last twenty months, a number of delightful ideas had come her way. Dumping a bucket of red paint all over him as he slept was a favorite. Or hot tar…yeah, she liked that old-fashioned way of dealing with deceivers. Tar and feathers. She’d use an old feather boa or two, bright red…

What would really please her would be to see him prosecuted for his embezzlement, as she had been. But as far as she knew, he was sunning himself alongside his “poor, dying wife” somewhere on a Caribbean beach, untouchable.

Uncle Fred, white-haired and paunchy, lay sprawled across the couch listening to the late news, when she entered the small cottage-style house. The phone rang as she closed the door.

“It’s for you, Lisa.” Uncle Fred yawned widely and handed her the old-fashioned rotary phone.

“Oh? Who is it?”

“Don’t know. Same guy who called thirty minutes ago.”

Someone checking up on her? Already? Had Aunt Katherine made a complaint against her after all? She was only thirty minutes late.

“Hello?” She perched on the sagging edge of the only chair in the tiny living room.

“Hi. Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh. Glad you’re home. This is Ethan Vale.”

“Ethan? Oh, hi.” What did he want?

At Uncle Fred’s raised brows, she waved him away. He punched the TV’s off button, then left the room, heading toward the kitchen for his usual bedtime snack of crackers and milk.

“Beth Anne asked me to call to make sure you got home all right. And she wants to know if you’d like a ride to the Bible Study at Jimmy’s house. That came up after you left, I guess. We’re starting tomorrow night.”

“Who else will be there?”

“Not too sure. Cindy and Pam, probably. Me and Jimmy. We can arrange a ride for you, if you need one. Beth Anne said you might.”

Another gathering so soon? And Lisa wasn’t too keen on Bible Study. It sounded dry. All that stuff about people dead thousands of years? What would their lives have to do with hers? Up until now, she’d depended on Beth Anne to show her the Scriptures she could apply to her life.

What do you have to lose but ignorance?

The small urging came gliding through her thoughts. She’d had more of the same lately, and she found it a bit spooky sometimes. But Beth Anne thought it perfectly natural in a believer.

“Okay.” The sudden acceptance popped out of her mouth before she realized it. “I work later on Fridays. I need to get stuff ready for the evening shift. If someone can pick me up at the restaurant where I work, I’ll come. Uncle Fred is usually out on weekends, so I don’t have his car.”

“Great. I’ll make sure to be there on time.”

He would? If Ethan Vale thought this was some kind of date, then he had a rude awakening. No dating for her now or in the future, and even if there were, she sure wouldn’t choose a self-absorbed easy charmer like Ethan Vale. She was through with men. Totally, forever through with men. Romance didn’t work in her life, she’d painfully discovered. Besides, all the good men were taken.

But…if Ethan wanted to put himself out to help her, why should she care? She’d let him. His personal interest would be short-lived, anyway, because as soon as he found out about her recent troubles, he’d run scared. Men did that.

Meanwhile, she could use the promise of her new associations to impress her parole officer.

“Suit yourself.”

In the background, she suddenly heard the wail of a small child. “Daddy…”

“Uh-oh, gotta go. See you tomorrow night.”

The phone line clicked. He’d hung up.

So Ethan was a parent, too. What was his story?

It didn’t matter. She set the phone back on the scratched mahogany end table, wondering how Ethan expected to pick her up from her place of work when she hadn’t told him where to come. And how had he known she’d need a ride? What had Beth Anne told him?

Chapter Three

“C’mon, Stacy.” Against a background of three-year-old Jordan making “vroom-vroom” engine sounds and five-year-old Tony squabbling with seven-year-old Bethany over a Game Boy, Ethan pleaded with his sister. He shifted the phone receiver and plugged his other ear. “Please? I took your kids and mine to the zoo last month, remember? For the whole day.”

“Ethan,” his sister said reasonably, “taking the kids one time doesn’t equal all the extra hours I’ve given you this past year. You have to find someone besides me to help with the kids. Like Sharon’s parents.”

He mumbled a not-very-nice comment about his in-laws as he watched his children. Tim and Barbara Long were impossible to please, they had never approved of him, and he strongly suspected that given half a chance, they would sue for custody of his children.

He ignored Stacy’s suggestion.

“You tell me to get a life, but how can I do that without help, Stace?”

He heard his sister’s long-suffering sigh. “You can’t expect me to handle all your childcare problems, Ethan. Can’t you ask Sharon’s parents for a change?”

“Uh…I don’t want to do that. Look, I have two job interviews lined up this week, and Sharon’s mom agreed to pick up Bethany and Tony after school today. That’s enough, okay? Jordan will be all right at nursery school for a bit. But I can’t ask the Longs to watch them tonight. I just can’t. They ask too many questions.”

“Uh-huh, and I had the kids over last weekend while you hung out at that Roger guy’s house. What were you doing all that time anyway? You were over an hour late picking them up.”

“Yeah, but that Roger guy is a top fiddle player and we had a hot session. We’re sounding better than ever, sis. Still Western swing, but fresher.”

His sister sighed into the phone again. “Your band sounding good doesn’t guarantee a steady living, Ethan. Can’t you see it? You’re riding a slippery slope here. If Sharon were alive…”

“But she isn’t, Stacy,” he said with a quiet reserve, “and I can’t live the rest of my life in an image that no longer fits.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Stacy sounded mollified, but continued scolding in her gentle way. “But when are you going to get a real job again? You’ve been out of work for almost five months, Ethan. Is either of these two interviews likely to bring you into the fold?”

Into Stacy’s idea of a family fold, Ethan realized. He struggled with the expression for a few moments.

“Uh…well, maybe.” He wasn’t completely out of money yet. And he’d return to the banking world as a last resort. He found banking—numbers, mortgages, interest rates and stock market going up and down—boring. Interacting with people, having fun playing his music as he’d done in college—that was much more satisfactory.

Sharon had never agreed, and he’d gone along with her idea of the family fold. He’d settled into a seventeen-year banking career that had pleased both her and her parents. Oh, yeah. He’d made the money….

For a long time, he and Sharon had lived a great up-and-coming young professional’s existence. He admitted he’d enjoyed part of it. They jaunted and partied, bought a mid-sized house in a snazzy lake community, and traded cars every three years. He liked to cook and often played chef for a host of friends, devising elaborate menus from TV chefs. People loved his dinners.

Sharon felt passionate about her career in retail upper management and had been happy enough to postpone having children. He’d been the nag, wanting children sooner rather than later, but he’d let Sharon choose her time. Then bing, bing, bing, three babies in less than five years.

And a year after Jordan was born, his wife had suddenly died of an unsuspected heart aneurysm.

Two years ago…two long years…rough years.

He’d plunged himself into caring for the children, getting through his demanding days at the bank with the promise of their welcoming smiles. For a long time that was enough. It kept him from crying too much, that unmanly pastime that he did only in the deepest night when nobody could see except God and himself.

His music soothed him, and from it he took encouragement. If only Stacy knew that he was digging himself out of the doldrums, she wouldn’t scold him so much.

The house was always in shambles, though. A series of housekeepers helped a little, and he wasn’t so pressured to run the vacuum or take care of laundry, but it seemed impossible to keep them.

Then this last year he’d slowly wakened to a feeling of overwhelming loneliness. He wanted adult company—needed other adults in his life. He also needed to change his life, make it count in a different way. Those feelings came just about the time his bank was merged into a larger one. His position disappeared, and he wondered—what next? Another bank?

He’d thought about it long and hard, for months now. He wanted a business of his own creation, one that appealed to him. And it would be totally different from banking.

Slowly a plan emerged.

He wanted a restaurant; not too large, and with a small lead staff. He wanted a corner stage for a live musical group to entertain customers. It was a leftover dream from his college days, he knew, and he wasn’t sure if he could make it work. But he wanted to try, to give it all he had. It would provide a place he could indulge his love of playing, of performing. It might not make him wealthy, but it would give him peace.

He’d tossed his ideas around with Mike Faraday. Mike had pointed out that perhaps God was giving him an opportunity for the change in his life that he desired.

To have a new beginning. And he agreed.

As his severance pay diminished, he’d sold the lakeside house and moved into smaller digs. Without Sharon, the fancy house felt too big, anyway. His profit from the sale gave him a financial cushion, but not enough to finance his restaurant scheme. He had to have solid backing, and he couldn’t go much longer without a steady income, either.

Maybe he was a dreamer. Sharon wouldn’t have approved, and neither had her parents when he’d mentioned the idea. He hadn’t a jot of restaurant experience, they pointed out, and his chances of failure were high. Plus, they argued, he had an obligation to support the children in a way that their daughter would have wanted.

Still, the dream only grew stronger.

“Daddy, Tony’s gonna hit me,” Bethany declared, her little chin thrust out as she glared at her brother. Her voice yanked Ethan back to the situation at hand.

“It’s mine,” Tony insisted. The boy squinted defiantly at his sister, his small hands balled into fists.

Ethan swooped Tony up by the waist just as he let a fist fly, missing Bethany by inches.

“Okay, Stacy…”

Without a word to Bethany, Ethan set the squirming Tony on his feet, yards away from his sister. Then he took the Game Boy out of her hands, leaving her to sputter, and put it high on a kitchen shelf in time out.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said into the phone. “I’ll watch your two while you and that hubby of yours take a getaway weekend.”

“Now you’re talking,” Stacy crowed. “Fitch will be thrilled. Next weekend?”

“Ahh…next weekend…” He hedged, his thoughts rapidly reviewing his options. One whole weekend shot, but then he’d have achieved payback. And often, the kids fought less with their cousins around.

He hemmed a moment, then let his sister pounce.

“Next weekend, buddy boy, or it’s a no-go. Fitch and I need a break. Two days and two nights.”

“Two nights?” Hiding his elation, he teased her with an exaggerated groan. He couldn’t let his sister think she’d let him off too easy.

“Yep. Friday and Saturday. And you provide tonight’s pizza.”

“All right, you got it. I’ll see you soon.”

He’d drop his children at Stacy’s house on his way to pick up Lisa Marley.

Lisa wiped the last empty table in her station at the restaurant where she worked. The dinner rush in full swing, she headed toward the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. Returning, she refilled coffee cups for the lingering diners at table twelve, handed menus to the newly seated table ten, then checked the time. Thirty minutes till Sally came in at seven. Thirty minutes until her long shift ended.

She’d been on her feet since before the restaurant opened at six that morning. But Sally had needed a favor, and Lisa was glad for the extra time. Besides, tomorrow being Saturday, she’d work only a half shift.

And then on Sunday she could see Cecily. For two whole hours, she’d be allowed to play with her daughter. To hold her, talk to her. The thought was the only thing keeping her going….

Afterwards, maybe she’d borrow Uncle Fred’s truck again to drive out to the evening service at Blue River Valley Community Church. Beth Anne talked so lovingly of the members there, Lisa hoped…well, maybe some of them wouldn’t freak out if they knew she’d served time. She wouldn’t tell them, though, not if she could help it.

Fingering her pocketful of change, Lisa gauged it to be about five or six dollars. Enough to buy Cecily a book if she had the time and opportunity to run by a store. Her tips in bills amounted to forty-eight dollars. Pretty good for a no-alcohol-served family eating place. Saturdays were always good.

Night tips were better. She’d take nights quick as a blink, except Mrs. Braddock thought it better for her to work days until she’d proved herself. And a year under Mrs. Braddock’s watchful eye wasn’t forever, she reminded herself.