Chapter Thirteen
Quinn
A Mother’s Love
I catch up to Logan, almost crashing into him as he stops dead in front of me. I follow his line of sight, and I don’t need to guess at the identity of the thin creature standing before him with wild eyes that glower at him from a pale, desperate face. I know with dreadful certainty that we’ve come face-to-face with the infamous Jolene.
I almost feel sorry for her—dressed in shabby denims, her red-gold hair hanging in dull coils around her face and neck—but it passes when I see the handgun tucked inside her jacket. I suck in a breath at the sight, and her sunken eyes flicker past me as I peer over Logan’s broad shoulder.
“Where is Rose?” Logan demands. “If you’ve even touched her I swear I’ll wring your skinny neck, Jo.”
“Relax, she’s fine. See for yourself,” she says, jerking her chin toward the moving carousel. I watch the spinning platform until I spot Rose’s brunette head as she rides a brightly painted pink and red pony around and around. She seems fine but is clearly looking about for her daddy with each pass. “I told her I was a friend of yours and bought her another ticket. Said it was okay for her to have an extra ride.”
“I don’t know how you got here, or how you found us, but if you have any decency left in you, Jo, you’ll leave now,” Logan says. “Quietly. And don’t even think about touching that gun. Security will be on you like flies.”
Jolene tosses her head in defiance. “You think I’m so nuts I’d pull a gun out in front of my daughter? I only wanted to talk to you, Logan. The gun’s just to make sure you listen.”
The ride is slowing down, and my mind is racing as to how we can get to Rose before Jolene does, or before she does something reckless that can’t be undone. I feel the tension in Logan’s body as I stand close behind him.
“I’m listening,” he says, his voice stern but even.
“I want to see her, Logan. I’m her mother, and I should get her half the time, fifty-fifty, all nice and fair.”
I clutch Logan’s muscled arm, sensing his desire to lunge forward and get physical with her; what Jolene is asking is not an option, not in a million years. I know how he feels about even acknowledging her to his daughter, much less sharing any kind of custody.
“You really are out of your mind,” Logan scoffs in disbelief. “You’ll never have that kind of access to her. The courts wouldn’t allow it, and I sure as fuck won’t.”
“Please, Logan,” Jolene replies, her voice sounding more frightened than aggressive. “You have to believe me, I’m not off my rocker. I’ve changed, really changed, for good this time. I went through hell in rehab, for Rose’s sake—just to be with her again. I’m clean, I swear it.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. The only reason you’re here is because you know the courts will turn you down flat with your self-destructive history. You don’t give a shit about Rose, or me, or anything but your own sick needs.”
Jolene is visibly trembling, and something tells me it’s taken a lot for her to even be here and stand her ground. Despite her brave words she’s clearly terrified. She’s come way out of her comfort zone for the sake of her daughter, and that says a lot about her sincerity in rehabilitation. But Logan doesn’t see it; all he understands is his pain and his rage at the one who’s caused him that pain.
“No,” Jolene says, shaking her head and taking a tentative step forward. “It’s not like that. Things are different now. I’m not the same person as I was with you, Logan. I didn’t have the strength to deal with the responsibility of a child, then. But I do now. I’m better now, can’t you see that?”
“Bullshit,” Logan says. “A snake can shed its skin, but it’s still a snake. Don’t come any closer. Turn around, walk away—and maybe I won’t call the cops.”
“Logan,” I whisper over his shoulder. “Don’t threaten her. She’s barely holding it together—she could snap.” My years of behavioral study are setting off alarm bells in my head, and suddenly I recall every word of those case studies I thought I’d never need to know about. Threatening someone who’s already emotionally compromised is not the right approach; it can push them over the edge and force them to take acts of desperation. Especially if that person has a weapon; and this one does. We have to get through to her on a different level entirely.
She’s close enough that I can see the tears welling in her blazing eyes. “I can’t,” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t walk away this time. I want to know my daughter—is that so much to ask? Please… I know I screwed up before. Give me another chance…”
Logan shrugs us both off, cutting Jolene short again. “You had your chance. You had every chance. For God’s sake, Rose was only a few days old when you left, Jo. What kind of mother does that? No fit kind… you don’t deserve a second chance, not now, not ever, do you hear me?”
“Don’t say that…” Jolene pleads, near to tears.
“Don’t go begging for sympathy when you have none for anyone else. You’re incapable of a single, decent human feeling!” Logan shouts.
“Shut up!” Jolene cries, placing her shaking hands over her ears. I swallow hard. The scene is painful to watch and is attracting the attention of nearby carnival goers. Despite Logan’s hurtful censure, I know in my gut she’s not crazy, nor inhuman; her responses are mostly rational and self-aware. She’s unstable, certainly, but not deranged. She’s just a mother who wants her child and a fresh start. No impulse or motivation could be simpler or purer than that; I understand that now more than never.
Logan seems beyond hearing, his anger escalating out of control. “Get this through your baked-out skull, Jolene. You will never, never have a relationship with Rose. Not while I’m alive…”
“Shut up!” Jolene screams, dropping her hands and reaching inside her jacket. “Then you can die,” she adds, pulling the gun from its folds and leveling it straight at Logan. My stomach twists and I feel like I’m about to pass out. If I lost him now, there’d be two more fatherless children in the world. I can’t breathe, and I’m seeing stars as my vision threatens to fade and go dark. I lean my head down against Logan’s shoulder, my fingers digging into his strong arm as he goes stiff, readying for a fight.
“Logan,” I whisper. I close my eyes, willing my head to clear. “Don’t say anything else, just watch for Rose.” I draw two deep breaths and raise my head. Then I take a slow, deliberate step out from behind him. Jolene’s gaze slips sideways over me, and she seems even more afraid of me than of him. A slight, small woman, both Logan and I tower over her by comparison.
“Who are you?” she squawks in surprise. “Get back, or I’ll finish him right now.”
“Jolene,” I say calmly, my brain seeming to switch into a different mode like I’d just pressed the power button on a hidden, powerful machine that shows me exactly what I need to do. “Rose is right behind you. Don’t let her see this. Put the gun down.”