This Heart of Mine

“I wasn’t there that day,” Riley reiterated. “I can’t say what happened.”

“You must believe something deep inside.”

Riley wished his heart told him she was guilty. Then everything would be simple; he could condemn her without reservation. But...damn all the doubts. He’d always wrestled with them, as well as the question of how much involvement he should allow her to have in Jacob’s life. He’d been trying to act in the best interests of his son. His parents agreed with keeping her as far away from Jacob as possible. In the beginning, they were the ones who’d suggested it.

But had he done the right thing?

“I don’t know what to believe,” he admitted. “I hope she didn’t serve seventeen years for a crime she didn’t commit.”

“You’d rather believe she’s a murderer?” Jacob broke in, pushing him to commit himself one way or the other.

Riley gripped the steering wheel tighter. “No, of course not. There are no for-sure answers in this, that’s all. Trust me, if there were, I would’ve found them. I’ve nearly driven myself crazy with all the wondering and the second-guessing.”

“You helped put her away.”

He shot his son a glance that let him know he didn’t appreciate being reminded of that. He’d only spoken the truth when he testified about her incessant phone calls and her attempts to get back with him. But the last thing he wanted to believe was that she might have been wrongly punished and he’d had a hand in making that happen. “The DA put me on the stand. It wasn’t my choice.” He’d cared enough about her to want to stay out of the whole mess.

Jacob knocked his head against the passenger window. “God, I hate this! I’m tired of thinking about it, tired of everyone watching to see what I’m going to do now. Part of me wants to go on with my life and pretend she doesn’t exist. We’ve made it this far without her, right? But...if she’s not evil, I don’t see why I can’t have a mother.”

Riley sighed. He’d screwed up so badly when he’d gotten involved with Phoenix.

Or...maybe not. He loved Jacob too much to regret those six weeks. And it was hard to regret them for a different reason—he’d never had another girlfriend with whom he’d felt such an immediate and solid connection. He’d dated plenty of women who were more “suitable,” especially since then. But he had yet to find someone who was as engaging as Phoenix had been.

“I liked her,” Jacob said without being prompted, his voice sulky. He obviously hadn’t expected softening his heart to be such a temptation. Maybe he even resented it.

“I can see why. She was very nice at breakfast.”

“That’s not how she usually is?”

Riley turned down the radio. “It’s been seventeen years, bud. I can’t say how she usually is.” Prison might have twisted her if she wasn’t already as twisted as everyone thought.

Jacob twirled the leather bracelet she’d given him around his wrist as he tried to puzzle out how he was going to react now that his mother was back. “She tried to make this morning easy for me. Did you notice?”

“I did.”

“That was cool, after everything she’s been through. Don’t you think? She didn’t try to make us feel sorry for her or like we had to do anything we didn’t want to...”

“I agree. I thought that was...admirable.” Riley didn’t want to reverse his opinion or his policies on the basis of one meeting, but he’d been impressed with Phoenix—really impressed. She obviously took care of herself physically. She’d looked...not beautiful but attractive. And she’d said all the right things, done all the right things. She’d even paid for their meal, despite the fact that she had so little. Seeing her pick up the check, Riley wished he’d made arrangements with the waitress beforehand so he wouldn’t have to feel as if he’d taken her last dollar.

But did her behavior in this one instance mean he should foster a relationship between her and Jacob? Would that be good for his son or the worst decision Riley had ever made?

“What was she like in high school?” Jacob asked.

In an attempt to relax, Riley slung one arm over the wheel. “She was different from the other girls. Aloof. One of those people who watches the world and everyone around them with a certain amount of skepticism and distrust.” They’d been over this before. But, apparently, Jacob needed to hear it again.

“She wasn’t part of your crowd.”

“No.”

“Was she popular?”

“Not at all.”

“But you were popular. So why’d you go out with her?”

“I’ve told you. At first I saw only what everyone else saw. But one of our teachers asked me to tutor her in math, and after I started getting to know her, I learned that different isn’t necessarily bad. She was more interesting than the other kids. She wasn’t that great in math, but she was smart in other ways.”

“Did you think she was pretty?”

He pictured her as she used to be, in her dark clothes and big army boots, the black fingernail polish, the eyeliner and bloodred lipstick. “Not really.” She looked a lot better now, but he didn’t add that.

“Why not? What was wrong with her?”

“Nothing. She just refused to conform, wasn’t fixed up like the other girls were. She always wore baggy, secondhand clothes. Didn’t come to many school functions. Ate alone.”

“But...”

The tone of his voice must have suggested that he wasn’t revealing everything, and Jacob was once again pressing for more. “She didn’t have a lot to begin with, as you’ve pointed out,” Riley went on. And somehow she’d made it work, managed to create her own style. He’d come to admire that—and more—while they were together. He’d considered her someone who dared to go against the norm and disregard the dictates of the “in” crowd.

At least, that was what he’d thought of her until everything went so horribly wrong. Then it was easier to believe, like everyone else, that she didn’t have the conscience of a normal person.

“I think she’s pretty,” Jacob said.

“She’s okay,” Riley muttered, but these days she was much better than “okay.” Despite two or three scars, which didn’t detract from her appearance, there was a sophistication to her face that hadn’t been there before. And her eyes... They were more guarded than ever, but a measure of strength, maturity and determination shone through that set her apart. So he wasn’t fooled. Although she’d been very respectful this morning, almost deferential, there was still some fight left in her. All he had to do to find out how much was deny her the chance to be part of her son’s life. That was another reason he felt so torn. She wouldn’t be easy to dissuade where Jacob was concerned. He’d tried—to no avail.

“And I like the bracelet she gave me,” Jacob said.

“I can tell.” Riley pulled into the parking lot of Meek’s Lumber. “Are you going to invite her to one of your games?”

“Why not? Anyone can go to the school.” He hesitated with his hand on the door latch. “You’ll let me, right?”

As much as he wanted to refuse, if only to keep their lives simple and moving forward on the same track, Riley didn’t see how he could continue to enforce his will. “If having her there is what you want.”

“I can’t see how it’ll hurt anything,” he said.

Riley hoped that was the case.

* * *

Phoenix spent the first half of the walk home in a daze, reliving every minute of breakfast and thinking about Jacob—what it’d been like to meet him, to speak with him, to see him put on the bracelet she’d made. But after a couple of miles, she could no longer ignore the blisters that were forming on her feet. It was so hot today; every part of her body felt sticky.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with one arm and considered removing her sandals. She would have, except there were too many briar-like plants and sharp rocks along the side of the road. And she couldn’t walk on the pavement without getting burned.

“Not much farther,” she told herself, but that was hardly encouraging when she had another three miles.

Why hadn’t she been more practical with the pittance the state had given her on her release? She could’ve bought some cheap running shoes. She’d tried on a pair. But she’d had her first encounter with Jacob in mind when she chose these sandals. She’d wanted to look her best.

She wondered if she’d hear from him on Facebook...

At the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind, she stepped off to one side, kept her face averted and waited for whoever it was to pass by. She didn’t want anyone to see how badly she was limping. She felt too many people in Whiskey Creek would take pleasure in her distress.

And what if it was one of Lori Mansfield’s parents or another member of her family?

They might try to take revenge. They’d certainly sent her enough ugly letters once they found out she was going to be released, warning her not to return to Whiskey Creek, threatening her if she did.

She tensed as the vehicle drew closer. It didn’t whiz by with a blast of hot air, as she expected. It slowed and came to a stop a few feet ahead of her. Then the driver—a dark-haired man from what she could see through the back window—leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Would you like a lift?” he called out.

Because she had no idea who this person was or what he might do to her, she almost waved him off. But this was Whiskey Creek; there wasn’t any violent crime here to speak of. As long as he wasn’t connected to the Mansfields, she should be okay. Not everyone in Whiskey Creek these days had been around when she lived here before. This could be a complete stranger, his offer the simple kindness it appeared to be.

Grateful that she wouldn’t have to continue the painful journey on foot, she hobbled to the truck. “Thank you. It’s so hot out today. And these darn sandals...”

As soon as she recognized him, she choked back the rest of her words. He wasn’t connected to Lori Mansfield—thank God. But he was connected to Riley. This was Kyle Houseman, one of the many friends who’d hung out with Riley all through school.

Phoenix didn’t want Riley to find out that Kyle had discovered her in such a pathetic state, so she backed away. “Actually, never mind. I just realized there’s no way we could be going to the same place. But thanks!”

She slammed the door, praying that would be the end of it. But he didn’t drive off. He reached over and opened the door again.

“You might not be aware of it yet, but you’re getting sunburned,” he said. “And it looks like we’re traveling in the same direction at least. I don’t mind going a little out of my way.”

If he knew who she was, he didn’t let on. But he would figure it out if she had him drop her anywhere close to her mother’s property. And getting close to her mother’s property was the whole point of accepting a ride. “I’m fine. Really. It’s not much farther.”

His eyes narrowed as recognition dawned. “Wait a second...you’re Phoenix.”

“Yes. Another reason you should go on your way.” After closing the door, she forced herself to walk without favoring either foot. But he lowered the window and rolled along beside her.

“I know where you live. Let me give you a ride.”

“I can walk a couple of miles,” she said.

“You seemed to be struggling when I came up behind you.”

He’d noticed? From so far away? “These sandals are new, that’s all. I’ll break them in.”

“So you don’t need a ride.”

“No, thank you.”

“Come on!” he argued. “I can’t leave a woman limping on the side of the road.”

“According to most folks around here, I’m not a regular woman.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m a murderer, remember? Surely, you can leave me.” Instantly regretting the harshness of those words, she glanced over and attempted a smile. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just...I’d rather not trouble you.”

“But it’s no trouble!”

Refusing was making a bigger issue out of this than simply giving in. Besides, she couldn’t tolerate the pain of marching beside him anymore.

When she stopped, so did he. “Fine. I guess I will take that ride,” she said, and climbed in.

As she put on her seat belt, he studied her with avid curiosity, and she supposed that was the price of his help. She was a freak in this town—the one person more reprehensible than all the rest.

“I’m sure you’ve got a camera on your cell phone,” she said. “Go ahead and take a picture.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded a little abashed. “It’s hard not to stare. You look...different.”

So did he. Like Riley, he’d filled out, not that she cared. Anything that had to do with Riley—except Jacob, of course—was off-limits. She couldn’t even be friends with this man. “I’m nearly seventeen years older. Of course I look different.”

“What I mean is you look good,” he clarified. “You’ve aged better than the rest of us.”

He must not have noticed her scars. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He leaned over to examine her feet. “You’re bleeding.”

Embarrassed, she raised the foot that hurt the most so it couldn’t touch anything, but he was increasing his speed, so he obviously didn’t expect her to jump out. “You’re the one who made me get in.”

“This is a work truck, nothing fancy, so don’t worry about that. But you might want to grab a napkin from the glove box.”

She did. Trying not to show how badly it stung, she patted one of those napkins against the blister that had burst.

“How long have you been home?” he asked as he drove.

“If you’re still friends with Riley, you know the answer to that question,” she replied.

He grinned as if she’d caught him. “Right. I admit he’s mentioned it. You got back...what? Two, three days ago?”

She kept her eyes on her foot. Kyle was nearly as handsome as Riley, but she didn’t want to acknowledge that. “Look, I’m not sure why you’re helping me. But if it’s because you want the chance to warn me not to cause your buddy any trouble, I assure you I won’t. I’m not going to cause anyone any trouble, least of all Riley or Lori’s family. I plan to keep to myself, mind my own business and...and see if I can’t get to know my son before he’s an adult and off to college.” She almost added, That’s not too much to ask, is it? But she understood that for many people here, it was too much to ask. They didn’t think she deserved anything—even to breathe the same air.

“You don’t have to be defensive with me,” he said. “I have no hidden agenda. I’m curious about you. Everyone is. But I don’t wish you any harm. And I’m pretty sure Riley can fend you off, if necessary.”

She folded her arms, wrapping them tightly around herself as she watched the scenery fly past her window. “He won’t have to fend me off.”

They’d almost reached the entrance to her mother’s property when Kyle said, “It was nice of you to send money to Jacob. I don’t think many people in your situation would’ve bothered.”

Riley had told him about her child support, too? He and Kyle must be as close as ever, she decided, but said nothing.

“The amounts you sent had to have been a sacrifice,” he added. “It’s tough to earn much inside.”

“I did my best.” God, wasn’t that the truth. She’d worked long, hard hours in the laundry, made bracelets on the side, thanks to the craft class that had inspired her business, and gone without everything she possibly could to provide that pittance for Jacob. “I wanted to do my part.”

“What did you say?”

Apparently, she’d spoken too softly. “I was happy to do it,” she said in a louder voice.

He pulled through the gate, which was sagging so much it couldn’t be closed, and her mother’s dogs, the three that weren’t inside Lizzie’s trailer, went wild.

She opened the door, which drew them, barking and jumping, to her side. The dilapidated condition of both trailers, not to mention the state of the yard, made her even more self-conscious about her situation here at home. She didn’t want Kyle to take note of all the junk, but she didn’t get out immediately in spite of that. He’d been surprisingly nice and, since she was prepared to meet hostility around every corner, she felt she hadn’t responded as politely as she should have. “Thank you for the ride. I apologize if I seemed...reluctant or ungrateful at first.”

With that, she managed to hop to the ground despite her blisters. Then she stood on one foot to watch him leave—it hurt too much to use the other—and was puzzled when, after he put the transmission in Reverse, he didn’t leave.

“If you ever need a ride, especially before your feet have healed, call me,” he said, and wrote his number on a scrap of paper, which he handed her.

3

The noise of the dogs brought her mother to the door. Because of Lizzie’s tremendous weight, she moved slowly and ponderously, so Kyle was gone by then. Phoenix was glad of that. But it was never easy to contend with her mother.

“What the hell’s going on out here?” Lizzie shouted, her words and tone containing the caustic edge she was so famous for.

Phoenix pocketed the slip with Kyle Houseman’s number, removed the sandal on the foot that hurt the most and limped close enough that she wouldn’t have to shout. She’d promised herself before she left prison that she’d be unfailingly kind to her mother. As ornery as Lizzie could be, she hated herself more than anyone else did. After what Phoenix had been through, she had greater empathy and understood that Lizzie sounded worse than she actually was. It was smarter not to react to all the cussing and yelling and the harsh things her mother said to drive people away.

Fortunately, the dogs stopped barking and settled down, so it became possible to speak in a normal voice. “Everything’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry,” she said, but a few calm words would never reassure Lizzie. She took nothing on faith and was always ready to fight, even if she was only shadowboxing some imaginary enemy.

A scowl creased what Phoenix could see of her face through the narrow opening. “Thought I heard a car.”

“You did.” Phoenix picked up her sandal. “My feet were hurting, so I caught a ride home.”

Now that she was no longer in danger of revealing herself to anyone else, Lizzie opened the door wider. “From who?”

“Just some guy who passed me.” Phoenix shrugged. Her mother didn’t need to hear the details. She wasn’t even sure what to make of Kyle, whether or not she could trust his kindness. She had few friends in this town and that probably wouldn’t change.

“You hitchhiked?”

“More or less.”

Her mother tsked. “You better watch out. Folks around here hate you, and you have no idea how they might decide to show it,” she said. Then she shut the door.

Phoenix stared at it, wondering why her mother had to be so difficult. Before she left this morning, Phoenix had told Lizzie she’d be having breakfast with Jacob. Why couldn’t she have shown a little interest in that momentous occasion?

She could have at least asked how it went...

Except that Lizzie thought reaching out to Jacob, holding on to any shred of hope that he might accept her, was a waste of time. She insisted that Riley would never allow either one of them to play a significant role in Jacob’s life and Phoenix was a fool for trying to prove she cared.

Maybe it was true.

With a shake of her head, she started back to her own trailer, which wasn’t easy with one bare foot. She had to thread her way through the refuse that had been dumped in the yard since before she was born. That meant circumventing old tires, two broken-down vehicles from when her mother did drive, a decrepit, hand-powered lawn mower, a washing machine. But it wasn’t the big stuff that worried her now that Kyle wasn’t there to see it. She was afraid she’d step on a nail or a piece of broken glass.

If she hadn’t been looking so carefully, she might’ve missed the banged-up bike peeking out from under an old mattress. Once she’d pulled it out, she saw that it had two flat tires and the frame was rusty, but...maybe she could fix it. Then she wouldn’t have to walk every time she needed to go to town.

Pushing the bike, she reached the trailer and leaned it up against the side. This was a project she’d have to tackle later.

She was just climbing the three steps to her door when her mother screeched her name.

From her new vantage point, Phoenix couldn’t see Lizzie’s steps—or Lizzie, either—but it wasn’t difficult to tell she was standing where she’d been before. She rarely came all the way outside.

“Yes?” she called back.

“My toilet’s plugged up!”

Phoenix allowed herself a grimace but was careful to keep the impatience out of her voice. “Did you try to plunge it?”

“You know I can’t bend over like that!”

So who’d played the role of plumber before Phoenix got home? The guy who’d delivered the groceries? Or did Lizzie call—and somehow pay—for a professional? Maybe she got a cut rate, like at the vet’s...

Phoenix didn’t bother asking. She went back and unclogged the toilet. Then she washed the blood off her feet and found some Band-Aids to protect her blisters.

“I’m hungry,” her mother announced as soon as she was done, so she warmed up some soup, hoping her mother would eat a healthy meal instead of the cheap pizza, soda, chips, cookies and candy she normally consumed. Only when Phoenix had finished cleaning out a small section of her mother’s kitchen—the one part not buried beneath all the things her mother hoarded—did she feel free to return to her own place, and by then it was after two in the afternoon.

The day was getting away from her, and she still had several bracelet orders to fill. She also planned to make some progress on the overhaul of her trailer. She’d been living out of the kitchen, bathroom and one bedroom—all she’d managed to put right so far. That alone was a major improvement over what she’d known in prison, but she was determined to turn her humble abode into a home she could be proud of, for its cleanliness if nothing else. People in Whiskey Creek might not believe that she was innocent of Lori Mansfield’s murder, but at least she’d show them she wasn’t willing to live in filth, like her mother.

She’d eventually have to clean the yard, too, if Lizzie would let her. It hadn’t been easy to talk her mother into allowing her to move the junk from the trailer into an old shed. Lizzie was terrified some of it would be thrown away, since the shed was full, too. And that was exactly what Phoenix had done. There wasn’t room for all the newspapers, plastic bags, paper sacks, balls of aluminum foil, empty soda bottles and other garbage her mother had collected. So when Lizzie wasn’t looking, Phoenix had made piles behind her trailer. Then she’d gone out early yesterday morning, on trash day, and dumped everything in the county’s container.

Phoenix was still frightened her mother would find out. Lizzie couldn’t bear to part with a single scrap of anything for fear she’d need it later. But she wasn’t as mobile as she used to be. Phoenix hoped that would save her from discovery. She had enough battles to fight at the moment. She didn’t need a big argument with her mother.

Once Phoenix removed her brown linen shorts and crisp blue cotton blouse—more damp than crisp after her walk home—she pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of old jeans she’d cut into shorts and belted because they were too big for her. The clothes had belonged to one of her brothers. She wasn’t sure which. She hadn’t seen Kip or Cary since she was ten. They’d both left town as soon as they could and never looked back. Kip hadn’t even been eighteen.

Phoenix had thought they might return one day, for her sake, and maybe they would have, if she hadn’t gone to prison. Her mother had spoken to them during her trial and asked them to send money for her defense. They’d helped a little, but it hadn’t been nearly enough to do any good, and they’d only written her a couple of times since. She guessed they considered her a lost cause, like their mother.