Yesterday's Tomorrows Page 2

  As soon as we stepped outside, I couldn't help but stop and take several breaths of the cool air and observe everything around me. It was like my senses came alive as familiar, but almost forgotten, sounds, scents, and colors surrounded me: car tires swishing through rain puddles; a squirrel chattering angrily at another in a nearby oak tree; the rumble of thunder in the distance; the mixture of ozone and car exhaust; green leaves starting to turn shades of yellow and orange…

  Sweet freedom.

  To anyone else, I'm sure it was a dreary, early autumn day. But to me, it was glorious. The few people walking on the sidewalk in front of the building went about their business, not even remotely curious about the people or scenes around them. And why would they? They hadn't been locked up in a world made mostly of shades of grays and whites, with orange as the only splash of color until even it faded into the background.

  My escort waved his arm impatiently from several feet in front of me. "My car is this way," he grumbled, turning his back and pulling a set of keys out of his pant’s pocket.

  What an ass, treating me like I was some puppy who followed its master's cues blindly. I’d been betrayed by people I knew and trusted; if he thought I was getting into a car with a total stranger, he was dumber than a box of hammer handles!

  "Hey! Wait a minute." Even from behind, I could see his shoulders heave as if he sucked in and blew out a deep breath.

  "What?" he huffed over his shoulder.

  "Why should I go with you? I might not have fancy clothes like you, and I may have been somewhat removed from the civilian world for the past few years, but unless things have changed drastically in that time, where I come from, the decent thing to do when 'meeting' someone is to introduce yourself." I crossed my arms and waited.

  He turned and stared at me as if really seeing me for the first time. His lip quirked ever so slightly as he took a step toward me. "Indeed. I do humbly apologize for my poor manners, Ms. Stone." He swept into a bow before me. "Holten Andrews, at your service." He straightened up and stepped right up to me. He could barely bite back the smirk that threatened the corners of his lips. "Is that civil enough?"

  I scowled at him. If he thought lording his extra six or so inches of height was going to intimidate me, he obviously hadn't spent much time within the walls of the building we'd just left.

  "Your manners are only exceeded by your sarcasm," I responded. As soon as the words left my mouth, I almost regretted them. Almost. "I still don't know who you are or why I should trust you."

  Easy girl. Dial it back. He might be acting like a prick, but you don't need to make trouble your first few minutes out of prison.

  He seemed amused by my observation. "Touché, Ms. Stone. I'm an attorney at McCloskey, Barnes, and Wilson. Mr. McCloskey sends his apologies that he was unable to meet you and sent me in his place."

  I studied the thick, ivory business card he presented me. "Ahh. So you got stuck with babysitting duty, hmm?"

  A dark eyebrow lifted. "Your sarcasm is exceeded only by your perception."

  Point for Mr. Moody.

  I shrugged it off. "If Mr. McCloskey sent you, I suppose I'll have to trust you."

  He stared back at me, purposefully shifted his eyes to the building behind me, then back to me. "I'd say we're both in that position, Ms. Stone."

  His words might as well have been a slap in my face. I'd been 'free' for less than ten minutes, and already my previous status was tossed in my face. I couldn't blame him, however. He probably didn't know me or my circumstances other than I'd served time. In no world would that not raise a yellow, if not red, flag.

  My face grew warm. I looked away, mostly so he wouldn't be able to see the tears that gathered in my eyes. How quickly my exhilaration faded in the face of my new reality. I blinked rapidly. I'd fought for the past six years not to show any weaknesses; now was not the time to start.

  My escort didn't apologize, but his tone did soften. "My car is parked over there along the curb. If you follow me, I'll take you home."

  Home.

  I wasn't sure that's what I'd call whatever my living arrangement was, but it still sent a little thrill through me. It gave me a goal, a beginning. It gave me hope.

  "Madelyn Stone?" called a voice from behind my shoulder.

  Well, didn’t that just beat all! I should have known the weather wasn't the only thing that would rain on my day.

  2

  Holt

  I felt the woman at my side stiffen before slowly turning toward the voice that called from our side. Irritated by yet another delay in getting back to my office, I glanced over my shoulder to see a well-dressed woman, probably in her thirties, with two young girls standing slightly behind her. If I had to guess, they were probably sisters around eight or nine years old, the same age as my sister’s twins.

  "You filthy whore!" the woman shrieked. "You killed my husband and the father of these girls. You should be rotting behind bars, you evil bitch!" Her face was contorted with hatred as she moved closer. Her girls remained behind with wide eyes set in their pale faces and hands clasped together.

  I froze. That's why this bit of female beside me had been serving time? I'd known that she had been imprisoned on a charge of murder two. I'd assumed it had been some kind of drunken car accident or cheating boyfriend, not that she'd killed a family man. Unless, of course, he was the cheating ‘boyfriend.’

  I took a step forward and held my arm in front of Ms. Stone, half as a shield from the hostile woman in front of us, half to hold the feisty, newly released prisoner back. At any moment, I expected the mother of all girl-fights to erupt. To my surprise, Madelyn didn't say a word. She simply stood there with a solemn expression.

  "Trying to steal my husband wasn't enough for you. Oh, no. You murdered him in cold blood when he rejected you." The widow took a step forward. "I lost everything, thanks to you. You dragged our good name through the mud. We lost our house, our club memberships…everything." Her voice rose in pitch with each sentence until it was almost an ear-piercing shriek. "You murdering bitch. I'll see to it you still pay for what you did!"

  I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows as I took a step forward. "Are you threatening Ms. Stone?"

  The woman in front of me faltered as if she only just noticed me. I watched as she took in my size and hard expression. Her shoulders bent, and she made a show of wiping her eyes. "She lied to get her charges reduced. She shouldn't ever walk the streets again. She should have been sentenced to life in prison," she sniffled. "My poor girls..."

  "The justice system obviously disagreed with you, Mrs. --"

  "Regis. Mrs. Paul Regis, or at least," tears leaked from her eyes, "his widow." The way she batted her eyelashes and pursed her lips seemed more worthy of a stage performance than a truly grieving widow. I suspected she might have missed the club memberships more than her beloved spouse.

  "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Regis, but if you continue to stand here and threaten Ms. Stone, I'll have no choice but to press harassment charges against you."

  "Harassment? She killed my husband, and you're threatening me?"

  "Look --"

  I stopped as fingers wrapped around my arm and gently pulled me back. I stared down at the petite woman who stepped up beside me. Her eyes gazed wearily back at me, and I caught the look of defeat and sadness in her eyes before they dropped to the ground.

  "It's okay," Madelyn said quietly. "She has every right to be angry." She took a breath and straightened her shoulders before looking into the eyes of her accuser. "Please, for the sake of your girls, I'm begging you not to do this here."

  "I'll see you in Hell first," she threatened, her lips curling into a snarl as she leaned toward us. Her voice was so full of derision it nearly dripped from her lips. I felt a tremor run through Madelyn, who was still holding my arm, but to her credit she remained calm.

  "Enough," I demanded. "I recommend you leave now, Mrs. Regis, or I'll call the police and have them arrest you for making threa
ts." I pulled my phone from my pocket. "I'm sure it would only take seconds to respond to my call as near as we are to the station."

  The hand on my arm tugged me once again. "Please, let's just go." She raised her eyes and silently begged me. I was momentarily struck dumb by how unusual her eyes were, a mixture of browns and greens staring at me with such sadness and regret, I had to stop myself from stroking her face as a gesture of comfort.

  Retreat wasn't a concept I endorsed. I wasn't afraid of conflict. Some even accused me of thriving on it, and they weren't wrong. I fed on that side of my personality to become the success that I was in the courtroom. But with one look from the pint-sized woman beside me I acquiesced.

  When was the last time I'd allowed a woman to dictate my choices - and with just a mere touch? Irritated by my reaction to her, I cleared my throat and mentally shook my head, allowing her to back us slowly away from the hostile situation.

  Without thinking about it, I placed my hand on her back and guided her back in the direction we'd started earlier. I couldn't help but notice how she flinched at my touch. What the hell was that about?

  "We're not done, Madelyn Stone," Mrs. Regis hollered, but she halted her advance at the dark look I threw over my shoulder.

  I felt Madelyn suck in a deep breath and shuddered as she quickened her pace. I wasn't sure what she was trying to get away from the most, Mrs. Regis or my touch. The thought that it might be me furthered my irritation.

  I didn't have a lot of sympathy for people who broke the law, especially for someone who took someone’s life. Sure, there were exceptions, but if Ms. Stone had been found guilty, I assumed this hadn't been one of those situations. Not that our system was perfect, but I believed in it.

  Regardless, she'd done the time our justice system deemed appropriate, and on her first day out of prison she'd been attacked. I'd seen her face lose its wide-eyed wonder and happiness when she saw Mrs. Regis. I'd been so angry at the time I'd lost to this errand that I hadn't considered what meaning the day held for Ms. Stone. I was somewhat ashamed of my earlier behavior toward her.

  While I sat in that horrible waiting room for what felt like hours, I'd been prepared to meet some bad-ass, rough-looking ruffian, full of insolence and aggression. Instead, I found a humble young woman who looked simultaneously nervous and excited. Despite the lack of refinement of her accommodations, her skin still looked almost like porcelain, colored only by a light sprinkling of freckles across her high cheekbones. It served as the perfect canvas for her large, eyes, the color of which I couldn't distinguish from across the room, hidden as they were beneath long eyelashes, but appeared intelligent and assessing...and absolutely the kind a man could get lost in. Her hair was pulled back into a single braid, but I suspected if it were loosened the strands would be like a paint sampling of various shades of reddish-browns that reached to the middle of her back. She was the kind of woman who didn't need makeup to be attractive; her natural coloring and features were pretty enough without any enhancement.

  It was hard to tell about the rest of her, dressed as she was in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of loose jeans. But given that she didn't fill any of it out, I suspected she had managed to keep herself in shape over the past several years. Overall, despite the drabness of her appearance, she was very pretty - in a poor waif kind of way - that made me think she'd be drop-dead gorgeous with very little effort. Maybe that's what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

  I'd known about Ms. Stone since I was part of the board meeting that discussed starting this new work-release program in the first place, but I hadn't given her much thought until a couple of hours ago when I received a phone call from John McCloskey. He notified me he was going to be in court all day and asked if I would meet Madelyn and escort her to her new apartment that had been arranged for her. There weren’t a lot of people who knew her background so his choices were limited, and obviously, this below a firm partner’s status.

  As a rising star whose name was already being bandied about for future partnership, I wasn't in a good position to say 'no.' I wasn't an ass-kisser, but I also knew when a request was more of a directive, never mind all the work I needed to finish today. Somehow, this woman had my boss wrapped around her finger. I understood second chances and fresh beginnings, but was a legal firm a good place for a felon to land a job, much less receive housing and a small cash stipend to help her get started? I'd expressed such a concern during the meeting, but all three partners were completely on board with the idea, especially about this candidate that McCloskey was promoting. I guess they thought it made them look like they cared more about people than the almighty bottom line in the accounting department.

  Now, I was anxious to be done with my unexpected chore and to get away from the woman who wasn't anything that I expected.

  A few yards down the street I gestured toward my black Ford F-350 truck and double-clicked on the key fob to unlock the doors. Most of my colleagues drove foreign luxury cars, but I didn't spend time defending my country as a Marine to buy some fancyass excuse for manhood by a foreign manufacturer. It pissed me off most of the parts were made overseas, but at least it was an American company.

  I assisted Madelyn into the passenger seat, watching as she ran her fingers over the soft leather of the seat. I might like the durability of my truck, but that didn't mean I didn't like perks on the inside. By the time I'd climbed into my side, she was staring out her window with her hands folded demurely in her lap.

  The V8 engine started with a roar before settling into a purr. I hesitated, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel. Madelyn still hadn't made a peep. Sighing, I angled my body toward her. "Are you alright?" I asked.

  Her head gave a jerky nod as she folded one of her arms across her stomach and propped her other arm on the door, cradling her chin in her hand. She appeared to be fascinated by a blue jay who was attempting to overtake a small sidewalk puddle that had already been claimed by a smaller brown bird. Her upper lip lifted ever so slightly as the smaller of the two birds pecked its way to victory and was now bobbing its head and flapping its wings as if it was doing a celebratory dance.

  It seemed we were both advocates for the underdog.

  Deciding it was better to respect her need for silence, and knowing she wasn't my problem for much longer, I shifted the truck into drive and pulled away from the curb. As I navigated the roads toward downtown, I couldn't help but notice that her free hand was flexing on her thigh, alternatively pinching then smoothing the denim. It was hard to recognize this uncertain girl as the same woman who'd stood up to me with such snark a short while ago.

  Curiosity drove me to finally ask, "Why didn't you defend yourself to that woman? Or why didn't you let me report her for harassment?"

  Her eyes remained glued to the road for several minutes before turning toward me. "Did you see the looks on her girls' faces? They were so scared. They didn't need anyone to make things worse for them." She wrapped one arm around her waist and raised the other so she could gnaw on her thumb. "They've already lost enough. I won't be the cause of any more hurt for them. I just wished she hadn't done it in front of them." Her voice was soft but resolute.

  A murderer with a heart?

  I darted another look at her, impressed by her insight and caring, yet bewildered by the contradictions I'd witnessed in the twenty minutes or so I'd spent with her. I'd seen the bright look of eagerness on her face when she entered the greeting room, followed by the slump of her shoulders when she didn't recognize anyone sitting in the chairs. I watched her swallow hard and square her shoulders when she thought she was on her own. She even earned a kernel of my admiration when she feistily called me out for my lack of manners, only to stand with quiet dignity as Mrs. Regis unleashed a wave of fury upon her, and now this sympathy for these girls.

  Part of me wanted to hate her. I had literally been brought me to my knees when I lost the other half of my heart. If someone had knowingly and deliberately taken her from me, I'
d be full of hatred and bent on revenge. Hell, even as it was I'd been so full of anger, so ready to kill someone - even myself. Mrs. Regis had reason to feel so pissed off; her security for herself and her girls had been stolen, in addition to losing her lover and best friend. At least, in theory, I reminded myself. She seemed more upset over her current financial situation.

  I stole another glance at Madelyn Stone, looking even more lost and lonely in my oversized truck. Something made me consider it wasn't as simple as I liked to believe. She didn't look big enough to hurt a fly, much less another person. In fact, she looked more like she needed someone to look after her. She barely reached my shoulder, was lost in clothes too big for her, and with her wide eyes, she looked more like a character out of a Dickens novel. She drew on my natural inclination to protect and defend those that I cared about.

  Part of me wanted to feel sorry for her. Except, how could I care about someone I'd only met this morning? Fuck, I didn't even know anything about her except what I'd learned in the past twenty minutes, so why was I even bothering to try to figure her out and make sure she was okay?

  But when I looked closer into her eyes, beneath the swirls of browns and greens, beneath the layers of pride, uncertainty, and resolve, I saw a vulnerability that she wasn't able to manage to hide. It tugged on a part of me that I thought was long dead and buried. And dead and buried was where it needed to stay.

  All of these conflicting thoughts grew into one monstrous headache. Grateful she wasn't the chatty type, I followed the directions on my GPS and several minutes later pulled into a parking lot on the edge of downtown. She broke out of her quiet daze and leaned forward to stare at the tan brick building.

  It was a much older building than the one I lived in and very nondescript as far as architecture went. It reminded me of the Lego buildings my seven-year-old nephew liked to build - a tall, straight rectangle with rectangular windows evenly spaced, double rectangular doors on the front, and a sign out in the grass identifying the name of the complex that was shaped, of course, like a rectangle. At least, the parking lot was clean, and the grounds were neatly kept.