The Single Dad's Redemption

He looked over his shoulder, ready to say no and be on his way, but the hope in her eyes stopped him short. “I wouldn’t be much use. As soon as my truck’s done I need to hit the road, no matter what.”

Her expression inexplicably brightened, though how she heard anything positive in his reply escaped him.

“I totally understand, and that’s fine. Even a week or two would help. Would you be willing to fill out a job application, just in case you change your mind?”

He swallowed hard, knowing it was only fair to tell her the truth before this went any further. A burning wave of humiliation rushed through him over what he now had to reveal to this pretty young woman—one who had probably never received so much as a parking ticket.

“You really wouldn’t want me here.”

“Why not?” A teasing glint sparkled in her eyes. “It isn’t like you’ve just landed on Mars, you know. The store may be slanted to female customers, but the job is easy.”

She sure was determined, he’d give her that. He sighed. “There are things you don’t know about me, ma’am.”

She tossed a grin over her shoulder as she started down the stairs. “Just put it all on the application. You seem like a nice guy, so I’m sure there won’t be any problems.”

That was what she thought.

At the cash-register counter, she handed him another application and a pen, and motioned to the ice-cream table and chair by the front window. “Just have a seat. It won’t take long.”

Defeated by her perseverance and the ingrained Texas manners that precluded arguing with a lady, he skimmed over the application.

There were four places to list previous employers, and his job history certainly had a suspicious five-year hole in it. What should he write there—inmate? Infirmary worker while incarcerated at the Eagle Creek State Prison in Montana?

The job before that was “rodeo cowboy” and before that he’d been the hardworking son of a Texas rancher. Fixing fences, training horses and raising cattle were hardly good work experiences for the kind of employee she needed.

But the part he’d expected—listing past convictions—wasn’t on the form. Maybe times had changed and those details couldn’t be asked.

Yet he couldn’t lie and he wouldn’t hide the truth. He fixed his weary gaze on the glittering baubles hanging over the front counter. “As much as I could use the money, I’m really not your guy.”

She tipped her head and smiled at him. “The cash register is super easy, I promise.”

He sighed heavily. “Your application form doesn’t ask about legal history.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting a comment like that, and drew back. “And?”

“It should.” He fished in his back pocket for his billfold and withdrew a folded photocopy of a newspaper article, smoothed it out on the counter and then handed it to her. “Read this.”

Her mouth dropped open at the headline. She darted a quick look at him then read the brief article he already knew by heart, word for word.

Texan Connor Rafferty, sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Sheriff Carl Dornan, has served five years in the Eagle Creek State Prison. Recent DNA evidence has exonerated Rafferty of all charges and he has been released. No one else has been charged, but state investigators say the case is ongoing...

“Five years,” she breathed, giving him a searching look. “Five years of your life gone and they were wrong?”

He’d expected doubt, suspicion, even instant fear of a man she might still believe to be a cop killer despite laboratory evidence to the contrary. He’d expected her to order him out of her store. He hadn’t expected to see the sympathy in her eyes.

He hitched a shoulder. “That’s about it. But right now I’m just thankful to be free.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” She shook her head slowly. “And for your poor family.”

“Nothing good.” He tucked the article back into his wallet. “I don’t think you want a guy fresh out of prison at your cash register.”

Her brows drew together as she searched his face. “But you weren’t guilty, right?”

“No. But I spent five years behind bars and I’ll be marked by that injustice forever.”

“Maybe you should give people a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Is it worth the risk? If word about my past spreads, people might be afraid to come into your store.”

“You aren’t exactly unique. Marvella Peters is a beautician in town, and one of her nephews in Chicago was released from prison for burglary two years ago. The same situation—based on DNA.” She thought for a moment. “And I saw a television show about this sort of thing, too. At least you aren’t the poor man who put in thirty years before proven innocent.”

He’d spent his years in prison knowing he’d never be freed, given the enormity of the charges against him and a federal sentence without chance of parole. A bleak, suffocating sense of hopelessness had weighed on his chest every minute of every day.

God had forgotten him well before his incarceration and he’d given up on prayer long before that. But now he felt a tentative flare of hope and silent words began to form into a rusty, awkward plea. Was it really possible to start over? To be given a chance?

Please, God. Let it be true. But even as he breathed that prayer, he knew it wasn’t possible.

His own father had never cared enough to forgive him and offer him another chance, so why would the Almighty?

“I’m really sorry, and I hope you won’t be offended, but—” Keeley bit her lower lip. “I—I do need to check out your story. Can I photocopy that article?”

“Of course.”

It would be an easy way out for her, once she thought this through a little longer. A delay, followed by a tactful withdrawal of her job offer.

He didn’t expect anything more.

Chapter Three (#ulink_5de08f6e-984d-5642-8d13-34b4bb824abb)

The next day Keeley stopped at the sheriff’s office during her lunch break feeling decidedly upbeat. Finally. An employee—and one she felt good about hiring. Was God finally answering her prayers and maybe using her to give this man a new start?

It didn’t take long to receive a second opinion on Connor Rafferty.

“How much worse could this guy be?” Deputy Todd Hansmann shoved the job application back across his desk and threw up his hands in disgust. “An ex-con? Are you crazy?”

Keeley rolled her eyes. His irritable tone confirmed that she’d been right to firmly decline Todd’s occasional offers for dinner or a movie when she’d first moved back to Aspen Creek.

Now he was engaged to a take-charge redhead named Nina, who didn’t take sass from anyone and who managed the one grocery store in town. They seemed like a perfect match.

“No, I’m not crazy.” She stabbed her forefinger at the photocopied newspaper clipping. “If I was, I would’ve hired him without checking out his story. But I’ve read about counterfeiters making currency with a computer, so I wanted to make sure this newspaper article wasn’t faked. Can you verify this for me?”

He snorted. “Lorraine is running a background check right now. But since he spent five years in the slammer, there must have been some mighty compelling evidence to lock him up in the first place. If he got released on some technicality—”

“DNA is not a technicality. It’s proof. Right?”

“But he got arrested, Keel. The cops must have had good reason to be suspicious. If he was just some innocent, random guy, why did they ever consider him? Maybe he has a long history of being a troublemaker.”

“Exonerated, it says,” Keeley repeated, her light mood dissipating.