Chapter Five
On Wednesday evening, Anna was hauling groceries into the kitchen when her cell phone rang. Willa Laurens, the attorney who’d handled her divorce, popped up on her caller ID.
Shit.
Her heart sank like a lead weight.
She contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but she caved on the third ring. The more she knew, the better she could prepare.
“He’s filed a motion for custody modification,” Willa said. “He wants primary custody that gives you visitation every other weekend.”
The threat hit her with the force of a semi. Anna’s head began to throb. Her heart pounded. She blinked, trying to keep the edges from closing in on her. Fear roiled her stomach, and her knees felt like they were going to buckle. She leaned against the counter, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of her.
There’s no way I can live with only seeing Louie every other week. No way.
From the moment she’d decided to leave George years ago, she’d feared this phone call.
“What are his chances?” She hated the shaky way her voice sounded, hated herself for living in constant fear of her ex.
Willa exhaled loudly into the phone. “Pretty good. Violence in the household is a big deal. His argument will be that an environment where there’s violence isn’t safe for a child.”
“But it wasn’t my fault. It’s not like the man is my boyfriend or even a close friend.”
“He’ll claim you should’ve vetted Redhawk, done a better job of screening who comes into your home.”
“But George was threatening to be violent himself.”
The sound of another deep exhale came through the speaker. “It’s not the same, Anna. He didn’t hurt you, and there’s no history of physical abuse. If we had police reports or a restraining order, we could use it, but as it stands, we need to find another way to fight this motion.”
Anna didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “Can we win? Can I keep my son?”
“Come by the office in the morning. We’ll try to get a game plan.”
Anna hung up the phone and sank into a chair. Her legs ached from cleaning four houses. Wednesdays were always long. Beginning at just after seven o’clock in the morning, it was usually well after six in the evening before she picked up Louie from Mrs. Rosemiller’s, the next-door neighbor who watched him for a few hours after school if Anna was still working.
She’d planned to use the money she saved at the grocery store to splurge for dinner at IHOP. But now, after Willa’s call, she pulled the cash from her pocket and tucked it into the small tea tin she kept in the freezer.
I’ll need every extra penny to pay the legal fees. Back to money. It always comes back to money. The lack of it.
Everything was spinning out of control. She’d been hanging on by the skin of her teeth for so long. She couldn’t do it anymore. There were just too many variables she couldn’t control. Maybe Louie would be better off with George.
Maybe I shouldn’t fight the motion.
Maybe Louie would be better off in a huge house with a swimming pool, every game system on the market, flat-screen televisions in nearly every room. He’d never have to sit on a Goodwill sofa or wear jeans tattered at the knee.
George can give him a lifestyle that I can’t.
When she’d left George, she’d only asked for minimum child support. She’d never pursued alimony because she’d thought it might anger him, might make him fight for primary custody. Even though he hadn’t been a peach of a husband—their marriage had been punctuated by episodes of binge drinking, emotional abuse, and even threats of physical violence—she’d kept it to herself.
The last thing she wanted was to be a victim. Especially George’s victim.
I’m not letting that bastard get into my head. There’s no doubt Louie needs to be with me.
Anna had never told a soul, not even Taylor, what living with George had been like.
In trying to keep her son with her, she’d made George look like a much better father than he really was.
What in the hell am I going to do?
…
Clark settled down to draw the plans for a new movie theater in Asheville. It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening, and the office building was finally quiet. He did some of his best work in the evenings when he was alone and could listen to baseball games on the radio. He opened the window and let the fresh scent of rain rush into his office.
There was nothing like the feel of a graphite pencil in his hand. He often did a series of conceptual drawings before he entered anything into AutoCAD, the program architects used to draft projects. But as soon as he picked up his pencil, all the ideas for the theater that had been bouncing around in his head for weeks vaporized. He doodled on the upper corner of the page, drawing baseball diamonds and tiny concept cars, hoping the creative ideas would begin flowing again. An hour later, he rose from his chair with nothing remotely architectural on the page.
He’d never had this problem before the accident. He’d always been able to pull ideas from the air and make it happen. Now, he had nothing.
The guilt had poisoned him. It was a slow toxin, killing his hopes and dreams, one by one, until there was nothing but an empty shell. Before the wreck, he’d wanted a wife, a couple of kids, but now he knew that would never happen. It should never happen. The reckless behavior that had led to the car accident proved one thing. His father had been right all along.
I don’t deserve happiness. I’d only find a way to fuck it up.
He ran his hands through his hair. He had to get to work on this project. Maybe a shot of caffeine would do the trick. He walked to the break room, put a coffee pod in the Keurig, and waited for a cup to brew.
Just as he grabbed the mug, the cell phone on his hip vibrated.
Taylor.
“You okay?” he asked when he answered.
“I am, but Anna isn’t.” Her voice shook with worry.
“What happened?”
“George is suing her for primary custody.”
He clenched his jaw. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You need to do something major.”
“Who’s her attorney?” The wheels in his mind were spinning.
“Willa Laurens.”
“Which judge will hear the motion?”
“Rafferty. The old coot,” Taylor said. “He treated her like gum on the bottom of his shoe in the divorce hearing.”
That was probably because Anna wasn’t a member of the local country club. The center of good society in Franklyn, Judge Rafferty was on the board of governors. Even though Clark had done the most recent renovations on the club and carried a membership, he hated the place. He’d rather be in cutoffs and a tattered T-shirt mowing his grass than dressing in plaid pants to chase after a little white ball.
“I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’ll do what I can on this end,” Taylor said. “But we’re not going to let her lose Louie, no matter what it takes, right?” Even though Taylor was tough, direct, and full of sass, when she was scared or unsure, she always looked to her big brother for reassurance.
“We’re going to make sure they stay together.”
He disconnected the call, dumped the fresh coffee in the sink, and turned out the light over his desk. There was no way he could draw with all the thoughts running through his head.
Money would help Anna. It was the least he could do for her.
Without his intervention at the party, she wouldn’t be in this situation.
Just something else I’ve made worse.
He took several stacks of bills from the small safe in the corner of his office, counted them, and stuck them inside a large padded envelope. On it, he wrote Anna’s name, the word “retainer,” and the amount enclosed.
The attorney’s office was just down the street, on the way to the garage where he parked his car, and he hoped that she had a mail slot. Clark tucked the envelope into his back pocket and hid the lump it created with a light jacket.
The night was cool. Even though it was May, here in the higher elevations of the Appalachian Mountains, temperatures fell quickly when the sun went down, especially just after a rain. He passed several couples, most likely tourists walking to restaurants and eclectic shops. He wondered what it would feel like to be part of a couple.
Deep inside, he grieved the loss of his potential wife, children, and the proverbial picket fence. But even if he hadn’t wrecked Jake’s life, and even if he had found the perfect woman, he had no idea how he’d handle a marriage. His parents didn’t exactly provide a good example. While they stayed together, their union was one of social convenience and copious amounts of alcohol.
Clark reached Willa’s office and looked up at the facade. Built just before World War II, it was one of the gems of the downtown area. Originally a bank, the building was three stories tall and a marvel of Gothic Revival. He removed the envelope from his waistband and opened the mail slot. After the envelope left his grasp and fell onto the floor of Willa’s office, he headed toward his truck, relieved he’d done at least one small thing to help Anna.
He should’ve called her first, but she might have tried to talk him out of it. It was the right thing to do. He had the money…and she didn’t. He’d given her his word and intended to keep it.
The next morning, Clark dressed in a crisp white shirt, a conservative red and blue silk tie, and navy slacks. He looked in the mirror and adjusted the Windsor knot in his tie. Satisfied, he grabbed a summer-weight jacket and slammed the cabin door behind him.
While many of his business meetings required a coat and tie, Clark wasn’t comfortable in a suit. They always felt too tight, too restrictive.
Clark called Judge Rafferty’s chambers from the car. He might not be one of the Bowling Ball Bishops, but thankfully, when he’d mentioned he was the architect who’d supervised the remodel of the country club, the judge’s secretary had told him to come right over. Clark wasn’t nervous. Not exactly. Keyed up. Determined.
The more he thought about all the planning that had gone into Louie’s party. All the sacrifices Anna had probably made to buy the watch, the cake, and all the party favors. It wasn’t the money she’d spent on the party. It was the heart that had gone into it. She’d been resolved, despite her meager budget, to give her son the perfect birthday party. He was more resolved than ever to make sure she kept primary custody of Louie. Any mother who cared that much about her kid deserved a chance to raise him.
Anna was nothing like his own mother, which was a good thing.
And George Bishop was a classic bully who reminded Clark of his own father. He knew the scars that came along with living with a man like that and Louie deserved better.
He parked down the street from the town square and fought to get his emotions in check. After tightening the knot in his tie one last time, he locked his car and walked toward the courthouse.
The judge’s chambers was on the second floor of the county courthouse building. Built in the 1920s, it was one of the most opulent buildings in the state of North Carolina. Over the years, Clark had spent many hours admiring the neoclassical architecture and the sweeping marble staircase in the lobby. He took the stairs, loving the soothing coolness of the brass railing on his palm.
Judge Rafferty had a reputation for being stubborn, but Clark had plenty of clients who could be difficult. He’d become skilled at dealing with all kinds of people. The trick was to remain clearheaded, logical, and rational. Explain the situation clearly and concisely. Clark was going to stay in control of his emotions regardless of how the judge reacted.
Not that the birthday party had been any indication of his normally coolheaded nature.
Maybe it had been the damn costume, or maybe it had been the curvy woman in the denim skirt.
Either way, his behavior at the party wasn’t like him. Part of him was embarrassed, and the other part was proud that he’d done the right thing for once.
He paused at the door to the judge’s chambers and shook his head, trying to clear it of the image of Anna. The black curls he’d like to wrap around his fingers. The deep-blue eyes that reminded him of a bluebird feather. The full lips that would most certainly be good at kissing and more. He wouldn’t be a man if he could look at those lips without wondering what they’d feel like wrapped around his dick.
He was attracted to Anna. Very attracted.
At thirty, I should be able to handle a hard-on without going all to hell.
He knocked on the door before any more images could flood his brain.
Judge Rafferty was a huge man. At least a couple of inches taller than Clark, the judge’s once muscular body had turned to flab. He was balding with ruddy cheeks and large jowls, and the shot blood vessels in the tip of his nose indicated a long-term love affair with booze. Rafferty was exactly what he looked like—a charter member of the good ol’ boys club.
“How can I help you, Clark?” He settled into the large leather chair behind his desk.
“Thanks for seeing me so quickly. I appreciate it.” A little extra charm never hurt.
He nodded and gestured toward the wingback chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat?”
Clark shook his head. He placed his hands on the back of the chair and leaned forward. An old trick to make him appear to be the one in control. He cut straight to the point. “Anna Bishop.”
The judge nodded. “I know her.”
“Her ex-husband wants primary custody of their son. That’s a bad idea.”
“I saw the motion.” He idly flipped through a stack of papers on the corner of his desk. The judge narrowed his eyes. “Why are the Bishops any of your business?”
“I hit him. I broke his nose.”
The judge raised an eyebrow and nodded. “George is a pretty solid fellow.” Clark didn’t miss the implication.
“Anna shouldn’t lose custody of Louie because of something I did. I take full responsibility.”
“Won’t help.”
“You’ve already made up your mind? There hasn’t even been a hearing yet.”
Judge Rafferty chuckled. “Look, Anna Bishop is an uneducated maid who lives in a cheap rental house and lets other men come in and punch the father of her child. She’s trash, Mr. Wainwright. Pure and simple. The kid would be better off with George.”
Clark’s face flushed. It pissed him off that Rafferty didn’t even refer to Louie by name. “George put his hands on Anna. If I hadn’t stepped in, who knows what might have happened. He earned that punch. Louie doesn’t need to grow up with a man who intimidates and bullies his mother.”
The judge shook his head.
“George may run a little hot from time to time, but he’d never hurt Anna. That’s ridiculous.” He said it as if every man threatened his woman from time to time.
Anger bubbled up from his stomach and into the back of Clark’s throat. “I saw it.”
Judge Rafferty rose and walked around his desk. “Look, I’ve known the Bishops for years. They’re an excellent family. George’s bark is worse than his bite. If he did have a mean streak, there would be at least one police report from all these years, a restraining order, something, but there’s been nothing.
“Louie needs his dad. He’s at that age. Anna has had plenty of time to find a better place, get a better job. She’s done nothing to improve her situation. Not only is the child living in reduced circumstances, she never asked for alimony. Don’t you think she would’ve demanded substantial spousal support if George had been abusive? It would have been in her financial best interest to bring it up in the divorce proceedings.”
Clark clenched his teeth and tried to remain calm. “He’s abusive. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Judge Rafferty sat down as his chair protested with a high-pitched groan. “Unless Anna makes some drastic changes before the hearing comes up on my calendar, my decision is made.”
“What constitutes drastic changes?”
The judge slid a humidor across the desk and opened it, offering a cigar to Clark. When Clark declined, the older man took his time selecting, cutting, and then lighting a cigar. Clark felt like he was trapped in bad movie.
The judge blew the foul, heavy smoke into the office. “Drastic changes would mean Anna securing health insurance for herself, moving out of that house, and putting some money in savings instead of living on the razor’s edge. She also needs a way to take care of Louie when he gets home from school. The old lady next door isn’t cutting it. If Anna does those three things before the hearing, Louie can stay with her.”
“What’s wrong with the house?”
“Mold. The motion alleges it’s unsafe,” Judge Rafferty said.
Clark remembered the small patch he’d noticed beside the chimney. With everything that happened at the party, he’d forgotten to look inside the house for any signs. “Has the property been tested?”
“George claims he has a report to prove it has.”
Anna was in a mess. Rental properties were hard to find in Franklyn, and the ones that did come on the market were often very expensive. The bill for cleaning up the mold would be the responsibility of the landlord, but the house would have to be empty during the cleanup, leaving Anna with no place to stay.
“Plus,” Rafferty continued while he puffed on the cigar. “George can better provide for the child.”
For the second time in just a few days, Clark, who was usually calm and chill, wanted to punch a man. “Parenting isn’t all about the money.”
He knew that firsthand. As a child, he’d had everything money could buy, but his parents were emotionally distant. The way Anna connected with Louie was worth more than all the money in the world. While Anna’s house was small, it was a home, filled with photos and comfortable furniture. It was warm, welcoming, absolutely the opposite of the house he’d grown up in.
“Anna is great with Louie,” Clark said.
“George is good with him, too. I’ve seen them at the country club pool. He’s a great dad. Plus, he has the support of his family. She doesn’t. I’ll bet she hasn’t talked to her parents since Louie was a baby.”
Of course the son of a bitch would be on his best behavior at the club. Especially when he was surrounded by his parents and the crème de la crème of Franklyn society. It’s not like there would be a lot of call for the F-word over escargot and rose-shaped butter pats.
“He treats Anna like dirt. He shows her absolutely no respect.” Just thinking about it made his gut burn with anger.
The judge sneered. “Let me give you a piece of advice, stay away from Anna. She had everything when she was married to George, and it was never enough. The filly just pissed it all away. She’s pretty enough, got a good figure, but we both know that won’t last forever. She’s not worth the trouble. A man like you could do much better.”
Have I been transported back in time? This smug bastard is giving me unsolicited dating advice. Unbelievable.
“I’m not…” Clark paused. “I was just there for the birthday party. The man Anna hired didn’t show and the costume just happened to fit me. I wasn’t…” He stopped midsentence.
“Sure you are. A grown man like you, one who’s well connected and educated wouldn’t dress in a silly costume for a kid’s birthday party just for sport. You’d pay someone else. Hell, you’re either in your office or at your house. You’re not exactly a social butterfly. If you weren’t dating Anna, you wouldn’t have even been at her house. Not to mention, you wouldn’t have gotten all red-faced when I told you to steer clear of her. I was testing you, boy.” A self-satisfied grin revealed his yellowing teeth.
The old man thought Clark was Anna’s boyfriend.
Something clicked in Clark’s brain. An idea floated around in his head, pressing the logical, rational ones to the side. It was a crazy notion, something out of a movie, but he couldn’t seem to tamp it down.
What if Anna and I were an item? Would that help her keep Louie?
It was a foolish thought, completely out of bounds, but he couldn’t help but follow it. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You’re right,” Clark admitted, plastering a bashful grin on his face. “Anna and I have been seeing each other for a while. Since she’s my sister’s best friend, we’ve been trying to keep it quiet until we were sure.”
“Are you serious about her?” the judge asked.
“I am,” he answered, hoping the judge didn’t spot the lie. “As a matter of fact, we’ve been talking about making it official.”
“If the two of you were married and I knew she was in a stable relationship that provided well for the boy, I might be more open-minded about the custody issue.”
“Even though I hit George?”
The judge balanced his cigar on the edge of a cut-crystal ashtray. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still an issue, but if you’re willing to marry the girl and take an anger management class or two, I’ll look past the punch.” A large cylinder of gray ash fell off the cigar. “After all, love makes us do crazy things sometimes.”
…
Anna parked her car almost five blocks from Willa’s office. She could’ve parked closer, but she didn’t want to waste the money on paying the garage fee. It was a nice day, perfect for late May, with brilliant sunshine and a light breeze.
It was a day for sundresses and strappy high heels.
Instead, Anna was dressed in the usual T-shirt and jeans. It was her work uniform. and while she was comfortable, the look did nothing for her already rock-bottom self-esteem. Even if she had someplace to wear a summery dress, she didn’t have the money to buy one.
Or anyone to wear it for.
From out of nowhere, she wondered if Clark liked sundresses. She’d bet money she didn’t have that he was a cotton dress sort of guy.
Why in the world do I care what Clark thinks? Or any man, for that matter. They’ve caused me nothing but trouble.
While she might be attracted to Clark, it was nothing more than a physical thing. Just an appreciation for tall, dark, and handsome. And the ability to fill out a Redhawk suit.
She was okay with her life. Most of the time. Partially okay, anyway.
Occasionally. she missed waking up next to a man. Kissing. Sex. Her vibrator just wasn’t the same as a flesh and blood man, but it didn’t cause her heartache after heartache, either. With a truckload of trust issues, dating wasn’t good for her mental health.
Plus, she needed to stand on her own two feet. Tell George to kiss her ass. Stop feeling shaky every time she was in the same room with her ex-husband.
She had Louie. That was the most important thing. She’d have time after he was older to do the other things that were important to her. Right now, she needed to concentrate on keeping him away from his father as much as possible.
When she walked into the office, the receptionist said, “Willa will be right with you.”
Anna took a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting area and picked up a magazine. She flipped through it, her mind a million miles away. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the threat of losing her son. She was so sick of being so afraid of George.
“Anna?”
She looked up to see Willa standing in front of her. Tall and thin with her long hair twisted into a tight bun, Willa had the look of a ballerina. “Sorry. I was woolgathering,” Anna said.
Willa smiled. “I’ll say. Come on back.”
Anna followed her down the hall and into the corner office. Decorated in neutrals, the office had little individual personality. But people didn’t hire Willa for the decor. They hired her because she went for the jugular without apology.
Willa settled into the leather chair behind her desk. “Who loaned you the money?”
“What money?”
The lawyer tilted her head to the side. “The money to pay my retainer.”
“No one.” Anna wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I was going to try to work something out with you today.” She didn’t mention that she had no idea how she was going to commit to a payment plan when she had less than ten dollars in her checking account and not much more than that in the tea canister hidden in the freezer.
“But we got an envelope in the mail slot.”
“There’s got to be a mistake.”
Willa opened the thick folder on her desk and flipped to the back cover. She turned the folder so that Anna could see the accounting log. “See? Five thousand in cash. It was here when I came in this morning.”
Anna couldn’t imagine where the money had come from. She wasn’t in regular contact with her parents, and they wouldn’t help her anyway. Taylor wouldn’t have gone the anonymous route.
Holy shit. The realization hit her square in the stomach.
“Can I see the envelope?”
“Sure.” Willa called her secretary, Sophia, and she brought it into the office and handed it to Anna.
“I can’t believe he did this,” Anna said, shaking her head. When she saw the word “retainer,” she knew. Only an architect wrote in such perfectly sized and perfectly angular printed letters.
“Who?” Sophia and Willa asked in unison.
“Clark Wainwright,” Anna said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t ask for his help.” Quite the opposite. Since her divorce, she’d done everything with her own sweat, blood, and tears, and she intended to stay the course. The budget might be tight, but it was better than being beholden to anyone.
“Are you crazy?” Willa asked. “It’s the least he could do. He’s the one who started this whole mess.”
“I want to do this on my own.”
Willa shook her head. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good. Seriously. I’m your lawyer, and my advice is to take the damn help.”
“I’ll figure out a way to pay him back. If his money means I can keep my son, I’ll work three jobs if I have to until we’re square.”
“Work that out with him,” Willa said. “You and I need to get a plan together.”