“Michelle, this is insane,” Brianna whispered into her ear, not out of a need to keep their conversation private but in an effort to be heard. “Look at these vultures.”
Michelle considered ignoring her, as she had become quite adept at doing with every opportunity for months, excluding occasions such as this, when it could not be avoided. Though Grayson urged her to speak with Brianna about what had happened, Michelle had not found the stomach to broach the subject. She did not know if it was their mom facing a prison stint or the arrival of her niece or nephew that made skirting around the issue seem to be a more favorable solution. Not that it mattered much; the end result was the same. Michelle had not forgiven her sister and did not want to talk to her about anything. She did not want to fake a closeness that did not exist, but Brianna had been doing just that, pretending like all was well between them.
“Brianna . . . please.”
“I get it, Michelle. You are still upset with me, but it’s been months. You have moved on,” Brianna whispered, pointing to Grayson. “I’m having a baby.”
“With that crazy-ass Javan or Micah . . . whatever he’s calling himself.”
“Yes, with Micah. He was sick, just like I was, but we are both doing better now.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “He kidnapped you! Beat your ass and damn near killed you!” she retorted, trying to keep her volume at a reasonable level.
“He doesn’t remember that, and . . . he is a different person now.”
“You’re delusional . . . and I don’t care anyway. It’s your life. Fuck it up however you want to.”
“Michelle, I want my sister back. I need you. I haven’t even talked to—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“All I’m saying is . . . he isn’t a part of our lives anymore, but he’s still separating us.”
“Brianna, this is really not the time nor the place for this.”
“We need to resolve this. Mom needs our support, Michelle.”
Michelle cut her eyes at Brianna. “I could not care less about what either of you need. I am looking out for me. Besides, she has you and her new boo for that.”
“Her and Peter are not . . . it isn’t like that.”
Michelle looked around, feeling fatigued over the whole exchange already. No one was paying any attention to their little spat. People were steadily filing into the courtroom to catch a glimpse of one the biggest stories in the city’s history. It was only fitting that her mother lived at the center of it.
“Who told you that? Mom? She’s a lying, narcissistic sociopath.”
“Peter told me. I trust him.” Brianna leaned over closer to Michelle.
Michelle suppressed her instinct to mush her in the face. “The boyfriend lying to protect the girlfriend? That never happens.”
“He’s my father, Michelle.”
“Yeah, for a half a year, he’s been a stellar dad.”
“Ever since he found out. I have no reason to doubt him.”
Michelle looked at Brianna. This child had gifted her sister with an annoyingly optimistic perspective on people. “Right, because we have such a good track record with truthful parents.” Michelle wanted Brianna to leave her alone with this mess.
“Michelle, what happened to you?”
“This family happened to me. I am done, and if you keep dragging me through this conversation, I’ll leave, and you can explain to your mother’s lawyer why that beautiful family portrait he’s trying to paint of us . . . isn’t possible.”
“Fine. I’ll let it go . . . for now.”
“Good.”
Grayson nudged her, grabbed hold of her hand, and gave it a quick squeeze. She looked over at him. I’m okay, she mouthed to him. Nodding her head toward Brianna, her thumb and forefinger shaped like a gun, she mimicked the effects of being shot. She’s driving me crazy.
Grayson leaned over and pecked her lightly on the cheek before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it, too. “No worries. I got you.”
Michelle smiled and took a deep breath. Grayson had really stepped up and proven himself. Living with him was a dream. She had never been around a more giving person, and all he seemed to require was her love. She did love him very much, but she still had things she needed to work through. He understood that and did not rush her into making any decisions. She appreciated that about him. They had not even “went there” yet. He had been extremely patient, and he was the only reason she bothered to come to court or entertain her family at all. She was there for him because he needed her to do this, to try to be a part of her family.
So, she could not let Brianna’s impolite conversation get to her. She could not let any of this bother her. She was angry with her mom, but she didn’t want her to go to prison. Her mother was a lot of things, but she did not believe her capable of murder, especially not of her father.
The judge brought the court to the order. The room went silent. Michelle’s mind went into a vacuum. This scene was bizarre, something she had hoped her mother could avoid. She eyed her grandfather, Richard Freemont, entering the courtroom from some door in the back, one that average civilians did not have access to.
Their initial meeting had gone as well as could be expected. She had been summoned, along with Brianna, for a “family meeting” to the estate not long after her mother was arrested. There they were: she and Grayson, Brianna, Peter, and her beleaguered grandfather, Richard Freemont, all seated in the main room of the house, staring at one another, doused in an awkward, uncomfortable silence until dear old Grandad took center stage.
His steps were rigid, like he was reluctant to take them, but all of that disappeared once he hit his mark in front of the fireplace. Hesitation markers vanished as he assumed his role as the patriarch, orchestrating the merge of the Lewis, Mason, and Baxter clans. Harkening upon the importance of family, of releasing the pains of the past in pursuit of a better future, he spoke and paraded before them in the kind of grandiose manner people likened to public speakers, salesmen, or the occasional gifted politician she suspected he never ceased to be. It was quite the spectacle, but nothing compared to the silent film playing out before her.
Peter excused himself as he brushed past her, smashing her knees together, to claim his seat on Brianna’s other side. Peter seemed very decent, a guy Michelle could have respected if he weren’t fucking her mother. Not even Brianna’s unsolicited, glowing character review could save him from the filth he covered himself with by aligning himself with her. She guessed that they were all a little dirty simply by being there.
Her grandfather had hired the best criminal defense attorney in the city to represent her mother, but the average person would not have guessed from his appearance. His suit was tailored, shoes Italian, but overall, he was very understated; likable but not overkill, much like her mother. Her dress was plain, simple but elegant. Both were seated in front of the assembly line of relatives.
Michelle looked around the courtroom, briefly making eye contact with a few people she knew, until she spotted Charlie. Charlie winked at her, and Michelle wished she could disappear. Dread took hold of her spirit as she flipped through a Rolodex of meanings for Charlie’s signal. Her mouth went dry as her mind raced to the worst possible outcome.
She shot a quick glance at Brianna, engrossed in conversation with Peter. Charlie, with a wicked grin plastered across her face, vacated her seat when Michelle turned to look at her again. Michelle wiped the sweat off her palms onto her jeggings.
As regret filled her mouth with words she was too afraid to say aloud, Michelle looked at Brianna. The longer she watched her carrying on with Peter, the ease of relief slowly soothed her being, reasoning that if anything had happened, Brianna surely would have mentioned it by now. Embracing this line of thought, Michelle dismissed her distress as paranoia. Her mother was on trial, not her, and Michelle didn’t need to worry about Charlie. She had no power except for what Michelle may pass along to her. Reprioritizing her thoughts, Michelle s
hook her head, settling into the conundrum that had been plaguing her for the last six months: the question of how her mother had gotten herself into this mess.
Grayson shook her, demanding her attention. “Michelle, where have you been?”
Michelle looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean? I’m right here. Why would you ask that?”
“I have been trying to get your attention for the last thirty seconds.”
“Really?” Michelle was more distracted than she thought. “My bad. What is it?”
“I think the prosecution is about to bring that witness we’ve been hearing about.” Grayson was whispering, but she detected a heightened sense of urgency in his tone.
Michelle nodded her understanding. The witness had kept her up at night. She had no idea what he or she could have possibly seen that would lead to the belief that her mother had killed her father, but the thought of this witness seeing anything made her nervous for many reasons. She definitely wanted to get a good look at whoever this person was.
“The prosecution would like to call our next witness, Henry Benjamin Lewis, to the stand.”
The doors at the back of the courtroom opened, and the attendees gasped in collective shock as the individual walked through the sea of people toward the witness stand. Neither Michelle, nor anyone near her, could see clear enough to identify the person yet. The man neared the witness stand, preparing to be sworn in. Michelle squinted and zoomed in as best she could, waiting for the guy, who currently had his back to them, to turn around.
The bailiff escorted him to the stand, instructed him to place his hand on the Bible and repeat the words, “I do solemnly swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
The witness did as he was instructed, allowing his voice to boom against the walls of the courtroom. “I do solemnly swear . . .”
Michelle felt the tiny hairs all over her body rise. Her body temperature suddenly dropped, chilling her to the bone. She gripped Grayson’s hand like her life depended on keeping her connection to him. Her eyes widened, round like teacup saucers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake him and hoped he understood.
When he found her eyes, she knew that he had. He heard it, too. That was the faceless voice from her mother’s house, the voice that claimed to know her and her mother.
She glanced at her mother, who was visibly shaking. Michelle was not sure what to do. She did not know how to help her, so she waited for the guy to take his seat.
It was a very painful, aggravating twenty seconds, but when Michelle saw his face, she could not believe her eyes. There’s no way. This has to be some sick joke or something. This is impossible.
Her mother jumped to her feet, waving her arms erratically, coming to the same conclusion as her daughter had. The crowd grew increasingly raucous as she verbally exercised her disbelief.
“No, no, no! It can’t be!” She continued screaming over the judge’s objections. “I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy! You’re dead! I buried you!”
Sophie’s lawyer and Richard struggled to get her back under control, but she was hysterical. She just kept yelling, not wanting to believe the sight in front of her. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! He’s dead! I know he’s dead!”
The witness stood and, addressing Sophie, he pointed his finger in her direction, shaking it violently, his eyes showing the fire within him. “No! Never! You’ll pay for what you did! You won’t get away with what you did!”
Sophie collapsed, passed out cold on the spot.
Stunned, Michelle could not move an inch. She could not utter one word. She couldn’t think straight. This did not make any sense. She saw the same thing her mother saw. Did that mean she was crazy, too? She looked at Brianna and Peter, who looked as confused and perplexed as she felt. Her eyes focused on Grayson, who seemed at a loss for words himself. None of what had transpired in the last ninety seconds made any type of sense.
The courtroom was vibrant, roaring with life again, but she could hear nothing. She saw lips moving, but there was no sound, except for the one voice that had haunted her since that night at her mother’s. She looked at him, studying him from afar. He couldn’t be her father, could he?
Then, it happened. He looked back at her, into her. He announced to everyone listening, but she knew the information was for her, an answer to the question he saw in her stare.
The witness offered a faint smile to her and stated for the record, so there was no further doubt, “Leonard Brendan Lewis was my twin brother, and I am here to get justice for his murder.”
Virtuous Deception 2 Page 35