by Loree Lough
“He ran full-out,” Simon blared. “Held that flaming thing above his head, bellowing like a bull moose, all the way from the corner to where William had parked his buggy.”
Then Simon slapped both hands on the rail surrounding the witness box, his eyes boring hot holes into Julia’s face as he quoted Ecclesiastes 5:8: “‘If thou seest…violent perverting of judgment and justice…marvel not…for he…is higher than the highest.’”
“Your honor!” shouted the prosecutor. “Objection! A Bible verse? In open court?”
But before the judge could comment, the squeal of a chair, dragging across the marble floor, echoed through the wood-paneled room. On his feet now, Michael banged both fists onto the defense table. “You’ve got my confession, you bunch of idiots, so why are you wasting everybody’s time and money?” he demanded. “I wrote it in my statement: I saw the stupid little Clape in the buggy. I threw the bottle. That’s that.”
“Sit down, Mr. Josephs,” came the judge’s booming voice, “or I’ll have you removed from this courtroom!”
Shrugging, the teen upturned both palms. “Do it.”
“Miss Spencer, if you can’t restrain your client….”
Julia was at Michael’s side in an instant. “Michael,” she whispered, “sit down and be quiet.”
“Why? So you can save me from the death penalty? What do I care if they kill me?”
“Your honor,” Julia said, “the defense requests a recess.”
“Gladly,” said the judge. “Doctor Thomas, you are excused.” He looked over his half-glasses at the jury panel. “Ladies and gentlemen, you will disregard Mr. Josephs’s comments and will refrain from discussing the case in any way or with any person.” He scribbled notes on the file before him before adding, “Court will reconvene on Monday at nine a.m.” With one last glance over the magnifying lenses, he added, “And Miss Spencer, I trust you’ll have your client in hand by then?”
I hope so, she thought. But “Yes, your honor” is what she said.
After one bang of the gavel, the judge said, “Court is dismissed.”
As the guards led Michael from the room, he continued ranting about his guilt, about having earned the death penalty, about having nothing to live for. Julia tried not to notice the curious stares of people in the gallery, and then a shadow fell across her paperwork.
“Ironic, isn’t it, that I never had a chance to watch you at work…before this case.”
Simon. Julia didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see abhorrence and revulsion on his handsome face…directed at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, slowly meeting his eyes.
“For what? For doing your job?”
Julia’s head snapped up in surprise. If he truly felt that way, why had he been avoiding her all these weeks? But whatever ill will she’d tried to muster to help her get through those long, lonely days had never fully ripened. And now, standing so near the very arms that had made her feel loved and protected caused an ache inside her like none she’d ever known. She looked deep into his eyes and confessed the truth: “I’ve missed you, Simon.”
She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall above the tidy Windsor knot of his blue silk tie. Heard him sigh. Felt the brittle air that had gathered between them like an impenetrable wall warm slightly. Was it too much to hope that—
“You’re very good at what you do, Julia.”
It wasn’t a compliment. That much was evident in his crisp tone. Before, when he’d said her name, it sighed into her ears like a song…three delightful notes that told her he enjoyed the poetic music of saying “Jyoo-lee-ah.” In all her life, no one had ever pronounced it that way, and she’d treasure the memory of it, always. But just now, two harsh syllables, making it clear that his feelings had changed—dramatically.
“Plans for the weekend?”
It was all she could do to croak out, “Not really.”
“How’s Mouser?”
“Fine,” she said, snapping her briefcase shut. Had he walked over to the defense table for the sole purpose of torturing her? Of reminding her what she’d had…and deliberately given up on behalf of a murderer? If so, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do.
“See you Monday morning, I guess…”
Had she imagined it, or did he sound almost like his old loving self? Julia didn’t dare look up to find out. “Right,” she said, amazed that her voice worked at all. “Monday.”
As he helped her shrug into her blazer, Julia longed to feel his powerful hands resting on her shoulders, the way they used to when he performed this gentlemanly task. For the briefest moment, her prayer was answered as he quickly patted her shoulders, as his hands skimmed down her upper arms, stopping just above her elbows. She chanced a peek at his handsome face and nearly burst into tears at the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She’d freeze the moment in her memory and pray even harder that his heart would soften as the days passed.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, and so Julia hurried toward the big double doors at the back of the courtroom.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Simon called.
But Julia never heard him, for she’d ducked into the ladies’ room to hide her tears.
Chapter Twenty
It would have been easy to wallow in self-pity indefinitely. She’d probably lost the love of her life, after all, and didn’t intend to search for a replacement, ever.
It would’ve been easy to pretend she’d grown angry with him, too, but Julia really did understand how he felt, and why. Levi had been the closest thing to a son he’d ever had, and she’d consciously gone against his wishes by representing the young man responsible for his brutal loss. And it would’ve been easy to focus on the ache in her heart.
Julia chose, instead, to remember the many wonderful things about him, about their relationship. She’d come into his life an emotional wreck, believing she’d inherited her parents’ less-than-stellar traits, and Simon had shown her how wrong she’d been. Once, she’d believed herself defective, so defective that she didn’t deserve to have children of her own, ever, and he’d taught her that the opposite was true.
She’d given up the promise of a loving, happy future for her so-called career. In court, he’d quoted Ecclesiastes, and even as the prosecutor objected to the blatant melding of religion and law, Julia understood only too well what Simon had been trying to tell her. And his words, echoing in her dreams night after night, helped her decide that this would be her last trial. Because if she continued representing people like Michael, how could she look at her own reflection in the mirror?
Simon had been right to point out that she didn’t need the job—her grandparents had left her a sound house on three acres, a sizable bank account, and a portfolio of stocks and bonds. What more did she require than a modest weekly salary to provide food and utilities?
For years, Julia had dreamed of hanging a shingle to advertise her one-woman law office, where she’d represent folks who might not have the means nor the access to legal representation. Thanks to Simon, she’d developed the confidence to make that dream come true.
Her only regret?
That she couldn’t share it with him.
“What’re you doing here in the middle of a work day?” Simon asked.
“Curiosity.” He snorted. “Just wanted to see what a real live crazy man looks like.”
Though Casey hadn’t said so, Simon had a feeling that the visit was directly related to his breakup with Julia.
Shaking his head, Casey frowned. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”
“I’m not…I didn’t…I—I—”
“Oh, quit your stammering,” Casey interrupted. “Reminds me of that time when we were kids and we got caught smoking in my folks’ attic.”
“That was your idea, not mine.”
Casey shrugged. “You’re the one who brought the matches…”
Simon’s memory took him back to a day nearly twenty years ago, when Casey had sneaked a
pack of cigarettes from their grandfather’s den. They’d spent the better part of a summer morning trying to figure out where and how to light up, just one of many adventures he and Casey had shared as boys.
“Yeah,” Casey said, grinning, “but it was your coughing and wheezing that brought the grown-ups down on us,” he pointed out. “I’m amazed to this day that somebody didn’t call the fire department.”
“I repeat: You brought the matches…”
…which had ignited not only the tips of their cigarettes, but a stack of yellowing newspapers, as well. When Casey’s grandfather lumbered up the steps, hollering and waving his arms like a furious windmill, Simon had stuttered a slew of excuses and thrown open the round multipane window.
“And it still amazes me that Grandpa actually understood your incoherent babbling.” He gave Simon’s shoulder a playful poke. “You never could handle that kind of heat.”
Simon could only shake his head. “At least the episode taught us both to avoid tobacco products after that.”
Casey jabbed a finger into Simon’s chest. “This time you’re in up to your ears in it, Sie.” Shaking his head, he added, “And frankly? I don’t think the shovel’s been manufactured that can dig you outta this one.”
“Who says I need to dig out?” His defensive tone reminded him yet again of days long gone, when he’d thought that nothing more than a defiant statement could redirect blame that ought to rest squarely on his own shoulders.
“Oh, gimme a break, why don’t you. You’re sneakers over baseball cap in love with Julia. And why wouldn’t you be? I can’t name a single other woman who’d tolerate your ‘holier than thou’ nonsense.” Casey paused and screwed a fingertip into Simon’s chest. “Except maybe Debbie. And if you don’t shape up, that’s just the kind of woman you’ll end up with.”
Simon didn’t like the mental image Casey’s words conjured.
“Gotta go,” Casey said.
“You just got here.”
“You need time alone, to sort stuff out. Julia may not have danced to the tune you assigned her, but she didn’t do anything wrong, either. Except maybe disagree with Mr. High and Mighty.”
“Hey, what’s up, Case? First I’m holier than thou, and now I’m high and mighty?”
“If the insult fits…” He snickered. “Just a little more for you to mull over once I hit the road.” He opened the door. “How’d you get so lucky twice? I always liked Georgia. And then you had Julia. That girl’s made for you, Sie, and if you’d rather stick to your guns than admit that, well then, I guess you’ll do all right, spending the rest of your life without her.”
He’d been anything but all right since the night Julia told him she’d represent Michael Josephs in court. Since then, the days had dragged endlessly, and the nights were longer still. If more than a half second ticked by without something to occupy his brain, there she was, dominating his thoughts.
Casey chuckled. “If that sad-eyed, hound-dog expression is any indicator, you’re already regretting the stupid things you said.”
“She told you what—”
“Nope.”
“Then how—”
Simon’s cousin groaned. “You’re the one who told me, you big lummox, just now, with that…I can’t decide if that look on your face is caused by guilt or regret!”
If Casey had asked, Simon would have said, “Both.”
“I’ve known you all my life and survived enough squabbles with you to know that you sometimes fight dirty.”
Good grief, Simon thought as the third insult registered. What sort of man had he become if people viewed him this way? Maybe Casey was right. Maybe he did need some time alone to sort things through, to fine-tune his attitude. Maybe—
“If you come to your senses,” Casey said from the porch, “Joanna and I will throw you and Julia an engagement party.” He paused on the top step and, finger in the air, frowned. “But…if you don’t wise up and admit what a boob you can sometimes be, is it okay if we stay friends with Julia? ’Cause we’re nuts about her, and it’d be a shame if—”
Shaking his head, Simon grinned then waved him away, “Give my love to Jo and the kids.”
“Will do.” He winked as a crooked smile split his face. “Love you, too, cuz.”
Simon closed the door and stared at the empty, now-silent foyer, remembering the first time Julia had stood where Casey had just been, oohing and ahhing about the house and about his pets. A sob ached in his throat as he exhaled a long, deep breath. Pacing the length of the hall, he pummeled the palm of one hand with the fist of the other. Why hadn’t he blubbered this way when Georgia passed away? Maybe it was knowing that, while cancer had taken her from him, he’d driven Julia away.
Casey had been right when he’d said Simon needed time to think about…everything.
He headed for his study and grabbed the Bible, flopped into an easy chair, and opened the Good Book on his lap. “Show me, Lord,” he whispered. “Show me how I’ve gone wrong—and how to make it right.”
It had been a month since they’d carted Michael Josephs, rambling and raging like a madman, from the courtroom. Her legal finesse had spared him the death penalty, and Julia could only pray that while he served his sentence—life with a chance at parole in twenty-five years—God would touch his heart and spare his soul. Meanwhile, she could rest easy, knowing the innocents like Levi would be safe.
She remembered all too well the sentencing hearing, when two burly guards led Michael into the courtroom, shackled at the wrists and ankles and garbed in a garish orange jumpsuit. As she watched him scan the gallery, Julia caught a glimpse of childlike longing in his eyes—and a tiny spark of hope for parental support that might flare into full-fledged love. But his face went blank when he realized that neither his mother nor his father had come to offer words of comfort, or hug him goodbye or promise to visit. That instant of innocence was replaced by the moody, mistrustful, malignant expression so evident during his trial—an expression that remained on his face even as the judge spelled out his fate.
How easy it would be to blame his parents’ disinterest for the way Michael had turned out. But she’d been in this business long enough to know that sometimes people went bad—even those who got the benefit of every bit of help available—for no definable reason. The “why” of such things could drive sane people mad, could harden even the gentlest of souls. Julia had no intention of traveling down that road. She’d borrow a page from the Amish, instead, and trust her newly remembered faith in God to provide her every need.
Faith. Something she’d never fully understood. Until Simon…
She’d trust that the Lord would provide clients and anything else she’d need. The public defender’s office had been seriously understaffed, even as she struggled alongside coworkers to balance the county’s caseload. Her resignation would make it tougher for everyone who remained, but she’d prayed on it, long and hard, alone and with the assistance of her pastor and fellow parishioners, and believed that when she’d put the long white envelope on her boss’s cluttered desk, it had been the right thing to do.
Freedom from doubt—yet another gift to thank Simon for.
She would start her new life with conviction and self-assurance partly because he’d gently coaxed her from her lonely pit of despair. If she’d stayed there? Julia shuddered to think what might have become of her.
Eyes closed, she hugged herself as the image of Simon floated in her mind. She smiled, picturing his dark-lashed green eyes; the smile that seemed to start in his heart and reflect the warmth and kindness of his soul; the masculine laughter that began deep in his chest and echoed out, making anyone within earshot feel a little happier just by hearing it. Maybe now he’d have a chance to find the woman who’d bring him the joy and happiness he so richly deserved.
It wouldn’t be easy in a town this size to see him living that life with someone else. God had helped her survive other pain and disappointment. He’d get her through this, too. But oh,
how she’d miss—
In a moment of blinding clarity, she realized that Simon had been there for her, right from the start. When her life seemed bleak and hopeless, he’d compassionately encouraged, tenderly taught, and lovingly lifted her from a life of recrimination, self-doubt, and despair.
Just moments ago, she’d acknowledged that the vile acts of people like Michael could drive a sane person out of his mind and could turn a gentle, caring man into a bitter and angry loner. Levi’s death had done that to Simon….
Had the things he’d said to her hurt? More than she cared to admit! But knowing Simon had said them because he was suffering? Julia’s heart swelled with love for the big, wonderful man who’d made such a difference in her life. She wanted to go to him, right now, throw her arms around him, and kiss him until her lips were chapped!
Time, patience, and prayer, Julia knew, were the keys to healing. He’d invested all three in her, without giving up on her, and she wouldn’t give up on him!
Buoyed by optimism, Julia felt happier than she had since before their quarrel. Grabbing her purse and keys, she raced out the door and headed for the one place where she could think…and plan.
Chapter Twenty-One
He didn’t understand his new habit of driving aimlessly around town, but Simon questioned very few things these days. Like the little velvet box he continued to carry in his pocket. He needn’t see the glittering diamond inside to be reminded that when he had purchased it months ago, he’d intended it to be a symbol of love and the promise of a long, happy future with Julia.
He’d become a growling, grumbling, grumpy old man. Would Levi have wanted to be friends with a guy like that? Would Julia have wanted to marry a guy like that?
Okay, so he’d been disappointed—no, borderline furious—when he’d heard she intended to represent the kid who killed Levi. It hurt like crazy, thinking she didn’t get it, didn’t get him. But had he really expected her to give the Commonwealth reason to fire her, just to appease him?