The Promise of Forgiveness
PRAISE FOR
the promise of forgiveness
“There’s a big promise in this book: love, redemption, and a story so gripping I couldn’t put it down.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Silver Linings
“A heartfelt novel of mysteries hidden in lonely hearts. Marin Thomas gives us characters that jump off the page, people we root for and who dare to reach for love. A keeper!”
—Curtiss Ann Matlock, USA Today bestselling author of Love in a Small Town
“Resonates with the power of redemption and absolution while exploring the idea of choosing your own family. A complex novel that examines the mother-daughter bond and the lengths a person will go to to be forgiven.”
—Kate Moretti, New York Times bestselling author of Thought I Knew You
“I loved the book! Marin Thomas has a wonderfully fresh writing voice that makes The Promise of Forgiveness an unputdownable novel. It is a compelling story of forgiveness with a warm heart at its center. You won’t want to put it down!”
—Joan Johnston, New York Times bestselling author of Shameless
Written by today’s freshest new talents and selected by New American Library, NAL Accent novels touch on subjects close to a woman’s heart, from friendship to family to finding our place in the world. The Conversation Guides included in each book are intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.
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“The Promise of Forgiveness takes a heartfelt look at the complexities inherent in familial relationships. It’s authentic and poignant, and will have you turning pages well past bedtime.”
—Emily Liebert, author of Those Secrets We Keep
“The flawed, frail but deeply human characters in The Promise of Forgiveness will have you rooting for them from the first page and cheering by the last. This is a story to savor—and remember.”
—Yona Zeldis McDonough, author of The House on Primrose Pond
“Marin Thomas writes with warmth and empathy about raising a daughter when the path isn’t clear and history provides little guidance. The beauty of the Western landscape, the difficulty of navigating parenting on all levels, and a beautiful romance round out this hopeful book, filled with complexity and love.”
—Ann Garvin, author of The Dog Year
“I loved the ranch in Unforgiven, Oklahoma, the mysteries no one wants to talk about, and Ruby Baxter, who flew right off the page, fists swinging, boots tapping. She was one of those true-as-life characters you don’t forget.”
—Cathy Lamb, author of My Very Best Friend
“With its colorful characters and raw emotions, The Promise of Forgiveness delivers a tender story about family and love. Readers will root for the feisty Ruby as she uncovers painful secrets about her past and seeks to find redemption in the most unlikely of places: Unforgiven, Oklahoma.”
—Amy Impellizzeri, author of Lemongrass Hope
“Marin Thomas writes with charm and a wise understanding of how relationships work. The Promise of Forgiveness is a heartfelt novel set in rural Oklahoma that explores what happens when one woman takes a risk to find where her heart truly belongs. Lovely novel.”
—Tina Ann Forkner, author of Waking Up Joy
“Full of warmth and wisdom, Marin Thomas’s beautifully written The Promise of Forgiveness proves that the past doesn’t define the future, family is what we make it, and, most important, it’s never too late to become the person you want to be. This is a truly special read that will stay with you long after the last page.”
—Kristy Woodson Harvey, author of Dear Carolina
“In this heart-wrenching but ultimately hopeful novel, Marin Thomas delivers a story with more twists than a hand-braided lariat as she spins out her story of a resilient single mother determined to make a better life for herself and her stubborn teenage daughter. What makes this novel rise above the rest are the quirky but believable characters, the surprisingly sensual details of a dusty Oklahoma town, and the way Thomas writes about even the most flawed characters with grace, affection, and humor.”
—Holly Robinson, author of Chance Harbor
NAL ACCENT
Published by New American Library,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
This book is an original publication of New American Library.
Copyright © Brenda Smith-Beagley, 2016
Conversation Guide copyright © Penguin Random House, 2016
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19868-5
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Names: Thomas, Marin, author.
Title: The promise of forgiveness/Marin Thomas.
Description: New York City: New American Library, [2016]
Identifiers: LCCN 2015038161 | ISBN 9780451476296 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Mothers and daughters—Fiction. | Man-woman
relationships—Fiction. | Domestic fiction. | BISAC: FICTION/Contemporary
Women. | FICTION/Family Life. | FICTION/Psychological. | GSAFD: Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3620.H6348 P76 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015038161
Designed by Laura K. Corless
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Praise
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
Conversation Guide
About the Author
To my mother, Phyllis June Smith
Chapter 1
Unforgiven, Oklahoma, was as ugly as it was hot.
There wasn’t a soul in sight, but Ruby Baxter’s skin prickled. Someone was watching.
A gust of blistering July heat plastered her overprocessed blond hair to her face. Accustomed to Missouri’s lush green foliage and high humidity, she wouldn’t be surprised if the Panhandle’s harsh sun, blowing soil, and never-ending wind sucked the life right out of its Okies.
She fondled the gemstone dangling from the gold chain around her neck and studied the only paved street in Unforgiven. The side alleys consisted of sparse gravel and packed dirt. The buildings to her left listed slightly—kind of like her single-wide after a fierce storm had blown through Pineville, Missouri, and almost shoved the tornado magnet off its cinder blocks.
“Not much of a town, is it?” Ruby reached out to brush a strand of hair from Mia’s face, but her daughter jerked away. Lately everything she did or said made Mia angry, leaving a sick feeling in Ruby’s gut that never went away.
“Enjoy your stay, ladies.” The bus driver set their bags in the dirt, and then the Greyhound drove off, farting black exhaust in their faces.
Mia kicked a stone, sending it sailing through the air, where it pinged off the NO PARKING sign ten yards away.
This pit stop had been a bad idea. Her relationship with Mia was in shambles, and the last thing Ruby needed was to lose focus on what mattered most—her daughter. There was no guarantee anything positive would result from Ruby meeting her biological father, but the instant she’d opened the certified letter from a lawyer representing Hank McArthur—a man she hadn’t known existed until a few weeks ago—the fresh start in Elkhart, Kansas, that she’d promised Mia had taken a detour.
Hank McArthur had summoned Ruby home to her birthplace to claim her inheritance—whatever that was—and a five-hundred-dollar cashier’s check had been included with the note. Ruby glanced at her daughter. “Maybe I should have bought a used car with the cashier’s check instead of bus tickets.” If Ruby had a set of wheels, they could leave this hole in the wall whenever they wanted. But she’d doubted a clunker would have made the four-hundred-fifty-mile trip, so she’d opted for reliable transportation—bus tickets to the Sunflower State with a layover in Unforgiven.
Ruby wished she and Mia were on better terms, because she had no one to confide in about her reasons for meeting Hank McArthur. Aside from wanting information about her medical history, which was also important for Mia, Ruby wished to know if she shared any traits with her biological parents. After she discovered she’d been adopted, she’d fantasized that the McArthurs were important people and that she hadn’t yet lived up to her potential.
That life had more in store for her than barely scraping by.
“Are we just gonna stand here and look stupid?”
“Give me a minute to think.” The sweltering mid-July temperature might as well have melted the heels of Ruby’s cowboy boots to the blacktop, because she couldn’t have moved her feet if she’d tried. All these years she’d believed she was the biological daughter of a trucker and a self-taught hairstylist. Her parents had gone to their graves in a head-on car crash without ever having told her she’d been adopted.
The answers to her questions were here, but what if she ended up not liking the real Ruby Baxter? Then again, Mia would argue that the adopted Ruby Baxter was nothing to brag about, either.
“We won’t stay long,” Ruby said, whether to reassure herself or Mia, she had no clue. Only two buses a week stopped in Unforgiven—Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today was Thursday. Unless they wanted to hitchhike to Kansas, they were stuck for a while.
“This place is lame,” Mia said.
Annoyance mixed with fear crawled up Ruby’s throat, but she flattened her lips, trapping the F bomb inside her mouth. It wasn’t as if Mia hadn’t heard her mother swear before. F-u-c-k had been one of her daughter’s first words. Ruby had taken her then-eighteen-month-old to Dollar Island, and when she’d refused to buy her a stuffed animal, Mia had blurted, “Fuck you, Mommy.”
Ruby had put the blame for that one squarely on her own shoulders. She’d been seventeen when Dylan Snyder had knocked her up. She’d expected him to do right by her. He hadn’t. Rather than say I do, he’d come and gone as he pleased—his visits ending in slamming doors and fuck yous. She should have ended things between them after Mia was born, but she’d let Dylan stay in her life because she’d been afraid to be alone. He’d been her first bad boyfriend decision and he wouldn’t be her last.
One afternoon when she’d returned home from her hostess job at Carmen’s Chicken Fry, she’d found Dylan passed out naked on the bed with a condom hanging off his ding-dong. That he’d used her trailer to have sex in with some other girl had made her realize he’d never be the kind of father Mia deserved, or the boyfriend she deserved. Ruby decided Dylan had used up his last second chance, and with great pleasure and a whole lot of satisfaction, she’d planted her pointy-toed Dingo right up his lily-white ass. From then on Dylan had steered clear of the Shady Acres Mobile Home Park.
“Give it a chance. The town might grow on us.”
Mia snorted.
At the end of the month Ruby would begin a new job as the night manager for the Red Roof Inn in Elkhart. The late hours wouldn’t be easy, but she’d be home when Mia returned from school, and spending more time with her daughter was part of Ruby’s plan for a fresh start.
She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare and stared down the block. The ramshackle buildings looked as if they’d been abandoned during the Dust Bowl Era and then reclaimed years later. The wooden sidewalks and false storefronts were straight out of an Old West film set. A life-size cigar-store Indian wearing a black-and-blue war bonnet stood outside the Trading Post Mercantile. The faded outline of a Castrol Motor Oil emblem decorated the brick exterior of Dwayne’s Billiard Hall, where a giant cue stick served as the handle on the front door. Hidden in the shadows of the pool hall sat the Possum Belly Saloon, its windows spray-painted black—either to represent the color of oil or to conceal the shady dealings of its patrons.
A pair of rusted antique Chevron gas pumps with their hoses ripped off baked in the sun across the street in an empty lot littered with trash and weeds. A newer station with a repair bay sat adjacent to the abandoned one. The sheriff’s office was located at the end of the block, sandwiched between Panhandle Realty and Petro Oil. No bank—hopefully there was an ATM inside one of the businesses.
“I don’t see any place to eat unless the pool hall has a grill,” Ruby said. They’d boarded the bus at six fifteen in the morning and it was now after one o’clock.
Mia motioned to a silver 1960s Airstream with Jailhouse Diner written in black cursive along the side. A handful of dusty pickups and a patrol car sat parked out front. Yellow plastic ribbons tied to the AC unit in the window flapped in the air, reminding Ruby they stood baking in the sun. She picked up her luggage. “Let’s give the diner a try.”
As they approached the Airstream, a Chevy truck cruised past and the driver stuck his head out the window to get a look-see at Ruby. Yeah, you think you’re gonna get lucky, fella. She’d hitched enough rides with handsome rednecks to leave her with a lifetime of brief relationships.
Mia waved at the drive-by cowboy.
“Knock it off. He’s too old for you.” At fourteen Mia showed signs of inheriting Ruby’s generous bust size. Her blossoming bosom, coupled with honey-blond curls, drew attention from men who had no business looking at girls her age.
A little more than two months ago Ruby had walked in on her daughter and a high school freshman naked in bed. After all of their chats about boys and sex, she’d never expected Mi
a to lose her virginity at such a young age. Ruby had been no saint in high school, but she’d waited until she’d turned seventeen to get naked with a boy.
Not that it had mattered how long Ruby had waited to pop her cherry. Everyone in Pineville knew she test-drove men faster than an Indy 500 car circled a racetrack. It shouldn’t have surprised her that people would assume like mother like daughter, making Mia an easy target for boys like Kevin Walters. The only way to give Mia a fighting chance to save her reputation was to move out of town and enroll her in a new school, where her classmates wouldn’t know she’d slept with a boy in eighth grade or that her mother had a history of failed relationships.
“Maybe someone in here will tell us how to get to your grandfather’s ranch.”
“He’s not my grandfather. He’s your father.”
Not as far as Ruby was concerned. Hank McArthur had forfeited his fatherhood rights when he’d given her away. She could have done the same with Mia after she’d been born, but she hadn’t. Ruby wasn’t a perfect parent, but she loved her daughter.
When they entered the Airstream, the men seated at the lunch counter—four cowboys and a lawman—spun their red leather stools and sized them up.
Ruby smoothed a hand down the front of her peach sundress and straightened the belt at her waist. The outfit hadn’t been comfortable to travel in, but she’d wanted to look nice when she met Hank McArthur for the first time. Not to impress him but to show him what he’d tossed away.
Before the stare-down between her and the group at the counter grew uncomfortable, the kitchen door swung open and out strolled Elvis—the Native American version. Tall and thin with a wide forehead, flat nose, and tanned skin, he wore jeans cuffed to the ankles, and his black T-shirt sported an image of the infamous icon. One rolled sleeve held a pack of cigarettes, and he’d combed his jet-black hair into the famous pompadour style, complete with wet locks falling onto his forehead and muttonchops.
“You ladies lost ’n’ looking for directions, or are you here to eat?” he asked.
Aware the men at the counter continued to eyeball them, Ruby said, “We’re eating.”