Road to Redemption - Michelle Dalton Page 0,24
day one. Was he that close to Mina that she’d confided who Ray was to her? That didn’t matter now.
With knees that resembled jelly on a gravel road, Ray made his way through the inmate precinct and up the steps he’d watched his pa climb the day of his visit. At the summit, he turned back and looked down over the rooftops of the bungalows, mess hall, and warehouses. The view of the ocean, which stretched until it trimmed the edges of the bright blue heavens, was right out of a fairy tale. His heart swelled and Ray took a moment to allow the wonder of nature to seep through his skin and fill the shattered hollow in his chest. No matter Mina’s decision, he would not fail—not this time, and not ever again!
Clucking free-range chickens brought him back to the here and now, and the gauntlet placed before him. Bracing himself as he searched for a confidence he’d long ago lost, Ray made his way to the home’s back door and knocked. It would have been inappropriate to assume the front door was meant for someone like him.
The kitchen was inviting and smelled of meaty humbleness. Paintings on the wall were from artists Ray had learned of in school, and the décor was comfortable with a modern twist, he noted as Becky, the woman who he assumed ran Mina’s household, led him toward the far end of the house.
“Just wait here.” The woman held up her hand as they approached a closed, beautiful lead-glass decorated door.
“Ja,” Mina’s voice called.
The woman gently twisted the bronze door knob. “Inmate Le Roux is here, mevrou,” she said.
“Let him in. Thank you, Becky.”
Ray sucked in a nervous breath when something on her arm caught his eye—a scar … His focus was interrupted when she turned and said, “She will see you now.” Her light brown gaze grazed over him coldly.
Ray nodded his thanks and entered the room. The back walls were lined with one long bookshelf adorned from ceiling to floor with colourful spines. To his left was a large window, and before him, his heart—Mina.
Dressed in a soft ivory-coloured blouse, with her hair tied into a neat bun at her neck, and her caramel skin flawless, she looked every bit ‘the boss lady’ of Redemption Farm.
“Take a seat, Ray.” She waved toward one of two chairs tucked neatly into the front of her large white-washed desk.
“Look, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve abided by the rules. I will—”
“Ray, please sit.” Her curt command caused him to pause.
Ray nodded and did as he was told. Words of apology and justifications raced up his throat and filled his mouth, but Ray knew better.
“How are you?” He tried again.
Mina shifted in her leather seat and glanced at her computer screen, to him, and out the window, then finally, she settled a hard, dark gaze back on him. “I am fine.”
Ray tried to hold her gaze but the longing in their depths had him taking in every aspect of a face he’d missed more than he realised.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Her voice, hoarse but direct, accentuated her appeal as she folded her arms.
“Like what?” Ray asked sincerely, not realising what he’d done.
“Like you used to. You threw away that right a long time ago.”
Ray’s cheeks heated as he ducked his head and stared at his dusty work boots instead.
“We need to discuss …” Her voice melted into nothing.
“Our daughter.” He lifted his gaze.
Yes, he was a no-good crim who had utterly destroyed a young girl. But he was also a man who was willing to face his mistakes and fix what could be fixed … and a father. This thought had struck him hardest a few nights before when he’d spent another hour doing sit-ups and push-ups to tame the demons.
“My daughter, Ray. Mine. You threw us away …”
“I didn’t know …”
Mina jumped up from her seat and leaned across her desk, baring her white teeth at him as she gritted out, “And what difference would that have made, eh?”
Ray stood, dropping his arms beside him. “All the difference in the world.”
“How so? All I was to you was a shag. A forbidden fruit you tossed the moment things got too heavy.”
Years of shame, self-loathing and bitterness welled in his gut, begging to explode in fury and justification. He could never go back to fix things, but he would be damned if he’d continue to be a coward also.
Tendrils of anger wrapped themselves around