C01 Take a Chance on Me

by Susan May Warren

  Umm. Okay. Jensen nodded. “Me too.”

  Then Darek made a face, something that said, Shoot, man, we’re not crying, are we? and Jensen laughed.

  Jensen found Claire swimming up to him. She looked back at shore. “Sorry about your house, Dare.”

  “Aw, I don’t care about the house—look at the lodge. It made it!”

  Look at the lodge.

  So they did. Shiny and bright, decades of history miraculously untouched by the flames.

  Yeah, look at the lodge.

  “I’M NOT READY, CLAIRE. I’m not—”

  “Shh.” Claire stepped up to Jensen, adjusting his tie, smoothing his lapels. “It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to work out.”

  He grabbed her wrists. “No, I’m not afraid. I’m ready to do the time. I’m just . . . I don’t want to be away from you. Not right now.”

  She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, and Jensen just wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her there. Sink into her embrace and tell himself that he could do this. Leave her here to start a new business, a new life, while he took the prison van down to Stillwater to serve his time. Four years—his mandatory suspended sentence for vehicular homicide—as a result of violating his probation.

  He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against hers. Please, God, help me do this. Give me faith.

  Claire had taught him that—to believe that God cared, that God was giving him a second chance. He’d never been prouder of her than when she stood up to her parents, told them exactly what it felt like to be abandoned after Bosnia. More, that she was staying in Deep Haven, not because she had to, not because she had nowhere else to go, but because God wanted her to.

  Apparently she and God had a talk, and it involved Jensen.

  Talk about second chances. Too bad it had taken him three years and nearly three thousand hours of community service to realize it was only with his repentance that God’s grace had washed his slate clean.

  But before man, well, the law was the law.

  Jensen took a breath, blew it out.

  Claire caught his face in her hands and met his eyes, pouring into him everything he ever needed. “Trust me. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Yeah. He nodded, although when the bailiff brought him in, settled him alone at the defendant’s table, he started to doubt. But this had been his choice—no lawyer, and . . . he had to learn to live with his choices.

  He’d said that much to his father when the old man called, offering money for defense.

  Jensen still rolled that conversation around his head. I love you, Son, and I’m rooting for you.

  Huh. Maybe his father had been hit hard on the head. But Jensen took it in.

  Behind him, he heard movement, but he didn’t turn, not wanting to see Claire, wishing he had talked her out of attending.

  He saw Mitch sitting on the prosecution side and tried not to feel betrayed.

  Then Ivy came in. He’d known that as assistant county attorney, she’d be forced to bring his probation violation to a hearing. But he expected a smile or something as she walked over to the prosecutor’s table. DJ Teague came in behind her. Jensen tried not to be rattled that he’d decided to attend.

  Apparently they’d brought the big guns for this hardened criminal.

  The bailiff announced the judge—Magnusson—and Jensen rose as she entered. She seemed a stern woman, her blonde hair fluffed back, a pair of reading glasses dangling around her neck.

  Yeah, he was going to jail—do not pass Go.

  Jensen stared at his hands as the bailiff read the case file number, the charges against him, the reason for the hearing.

  “Mr. Atwood, I see here that you are defending yourself. Why is that?”

  He looked up. “Your Honor, I knew the terms of my probation, and I violated them. I have nothing to defend.”

  He knew that, behind him, Claire was cringing, having fought for the past two weeks to get him counsel. But he was tired of trying to wrangle the law and wage a defense.

  He’d killed a woman. A friend. His buddy’s wife. There was no defense for that, despite the fact that he’d never meant for it to happen.

  And innocent or not, he couldn’t take one more day of living in this town pretending he hadn’t hurt people, pretending that he didn’t have some culpability. Going to jail might be a thousand times easier.

  Except, of course, for Claire.

  “Very well, Mr. Atwood. Prosecution, bring your case.”

  He heard a chair slide back. “Your Honor, before we get started, I’d like to address the court, if I may.”

  Jensen looked at Ivy. She stared straight ahead, at the judge.

  “Go ahead, Miss Madison.”

  Ivy stepped up to the podium. “As a clerk in my final year of law school, I worked for Atwood and Associates. I was given a file and asked to find a way to help the defendant in the case escape the mandatory vehicular homicide sentence. See, his father was my boss, and he loved his son, but he wasn’t representing the case. So he asked me to help.”

  Her hands curled around the sides of the podium. “I didn’t know Jensen Atwood at all. He was just a case to me, but I was an eager young law student and I wanted to please my boss. So I studied the case and discovered that much of it was circumstantial. The prosecution couldn’t prove that Jensen had been negligent, although with his cell phone open in the vehicle, it was certainly suspect. The cell phone usage law, by the way, hadn’t held up a single successful conviction in the state of Minnesota at the time. I reviewed the facts, and in my opinion, the state did not have a substantial case. However, knowing the venue where the court case would be tried—here in Deep Haven—and knowing the outcome in the event of a guilty verdict, I proposed a rather unorthodox plea. Jensen would plead guilty, and I submitted a substantial memorandum proposing setting aside the sentencing guidelines and instead offering probation that included three thousand hours of community service.”

  Jensen couldn’t breathe. She’d crafted his plea agreement?

  “In a twist of fate, today I find myself wanting to defend Jensen’s innocence. But as the court knows, I can’t because he’s already pleaded guilty and been sentenced for his crime. So I’m recusing myself as prosecutor and joining his defense to plead for clemency.”

  Then Ivy closed her file. The court fell silent until the judge finally said, “Mr. Atwood?”

  He nodded dumbly.

  Ivy walked over and sat down beside Jensen. She didn’t look at him, just touched his hand. Squeezed.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had no words. Except . . . he leaned over. “Thank you, Ivy.”

  For believing in him, for giving him a life here, even if he had blown it.

  Judge Magnusson finally nodded at DJ. “We’ll hear the prosecution’s complaint.”

  DJ stood and outlined the probation violation, his voice tight, ending with “And pursuant to his suspended sentence, the state of Minnesota asks that Jensen Atwood serve out his full sentence at a correctional facility of the court’s choosing.” DJ took a breath as he closed the file. “Although, granted, he is only twelve hours short on his community service.”

  Twelve.

  Even with the hours he’d earned at the Garden—thanks to Joe Michaels, who’d submitted the appropriate paperwork to Mitch. And Mitch’s generosity in allowing him double time for hazardous duty. And the extra hours he managed to put in since then. Twelve hours short.

  But twelve hours short was still . . . short.

  “Thank you, Mr. Teague. Defense?”

  Ivy rose. “I would like to submit a request for clemency to the court, Your Honor. I know this is a bit unorthodox, but in this case, I believe it may be relevant.”

  The bailiff took the clemency petition.

  How Jensen wanted to turn, to thank Claire for the hours she’d spent writing it, keeping him from balling the entire thing in a wad and throwing it against the wall. But now, it felt like too little, to
o late.

  “Is that all, Miss Madison?”

  “Absolutely not, Your Honor. If it please the court, I have character witnesses who will testify to the points laid out in the petition.”

  “Character witnesses?” the judge asked.

  That’s what Jensen wanted to say. He looked up at Ivy. But she didn’t spare him a glance.

  “Indeed, Your Honor. I have a list here of everyone who has agreed to testify.” She opened her file folder again.

  “How many are there, Miss Madison?”

  Ivy paused, glanced at Jensen, then looked behind her. “Well, see for yourself.”

  Jensen frowned. Turned.

  And then he was a child, his mouth gaping open. The courtroom was filled to overflowing, people standing in the back, against the wall. He saw Kyle Hueston and Emma Nelson, Claire’s bandmates. Sharron and Noelle, who’d worked with him at the thrift store. Annalise Decker, from the animal shelter, and her husband, Nathan, the real estate agent he sometimes cleaned for. They grinned at him. Beside them were Lucy and Seb Brewster, the mayor, and Caleb Knight, whom he mowed the school football field for every summer. He saw Joe Michaels, of course, and Marnie Blouder from the sheriff’s office waved to him. Pastor Dan stood in the back, his hand on his wife’s shoulder, wearing a pastorly, affirming grin. Phyllis McCann from parks and rec held up a cup of coffee and winked, and in the front row sat Donna Winters with his favorite Meals On Wheels blue hairs, who’d turned out to give him a thumbs-up. Ruby and the folks from the Garden took up an entire row. Gabe Michaels waved. Beside him sat Grace Christiansen, beaming. And Ingrid, who looked like she might cry.

  Yeah, him too.

  He felt Ivy’s hand on his shoulder. “Who wants to go first?” she asked the crowd.

  Every hand shot into the air.

  Jensen tightened his jaw, knowing he was way too close to weeping.

  And then Darek came forward. He had slicked up, wearing—no, a suit? He held Tiger’s hand and now handed him to Nan Holloway, who sat in the front row. Tousled his son’s hair.

  Tiger waved. “Hi, Ivy!”

  A chuckle murmured through the courtroom.

  Then Darek turned and faced the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to be the first witness on behalf of the defense, if I may.”

  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much,” Ivy said as she closed her apartment door behind her.

  Darek had to choose between finding words and simply drinking her in. Her beautiful green eyes, the red hair now falling over her burnt-orange shirt. When he was quiet, she looked up at him with a frown.

  “You’re not angry, are you?”

  Angry? He could hardly breathe with the joy in his chest. He managed to shake his head. “No, Ivy, I’m not angry.” He cupped her face, lifted it for a kiss. Just one because if he got going, then . . . well, he knew it was too early to ask her to marry him, but . . . soon.

  Very soon.

  But not tonight. Tonight was a different kind of night, for someone else. He slipped his hand into hers. “I am glad you told me before you announced it to all of Deep Haven, however.”

  He would never forget the moment when she’d revealed her part in Jensen’s sentencing. The way she sat a little away from him, her hands tucked between her knees as they watched Tiger swing on the community playground. How she hadn’t looked at him once, until the end. Then her eyes said it all.

  And what was he going to do? “Of course I forgive you,” he’d said. “There is nothing to forgive, really. You saw the truth, tried to find justice for us all in a case where there was no justice. How could there be? You did a good thing, even though it was hard on all of us.”

  He’d folded her into his arms then, and it seemed like he felt the last of something she’d been holding on to slip away. She sank into him, and he didn’t know how he’d ever let go.

  He didn’t plan to.

  The air was thick with the scent of rain, the streets and air still soggy from yesterday’s drenching.

  Jensen had arranged for their family and others who’d lost their homes to rent from the vacation home owners of Pine Acres. Darek had a feeling that Jensen might be footing the bill on a number of the properties. Meanwhile, Darek’s family was meeting with the insurance agent and planning to use the extra cash to acquire Gibs’s property.

  Darek hadn’t expected that phone call from Claire’s parents, offering his family the land. Nor did he expect, when he asked Claire about it, for her to willingly agree.

  “I don’t need it anymore,” she’d said, and he guessed the way Jensen wrapped his arm around her had something to do with that.

  If they were wise, and the family helped with the rebuild, they could afford the land. Someday Evergreen Lodge Outfitter and Cabin Rentals might be more than any of them had ever dreamed. But that’s the way God worked, apparently.

  He held Ivy’s hand as he walked her down the stairs, out to the driveway.

  She stopped, glanced at him. “You brought your motorcycle?”

  “Just until Casper goes back to college. His Key West pirate adventure fell through, and with Mom and Dad trying to figure out how to rebuild, he’s sticking around until the end of the summer. I thought maybe you’d like a ride.”

  “I’d love a ride,” she said and he climbed aboard, helping her on as she swung her leg over. Then, like he hoped, she leaned in, wrapped her arms around his waist, and held on.

  Keep holding on.

  He backed the bike out of the driveway, but instead of heading toward town, he drove to the cemetery. “I have to stop here for a minute. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. Take your time. I’ll be right here, waiting.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but it didn’t seem right, so he parked the bike and left Ivy there.

  He’d visited only once, early on with his mother, but he hadn’t forgotten where Felicity lay. Someone—probably Claire—had planted a garden, pretty red and purple flowers over her grave.

  He palmed the top of the smooth, cool surface of the stone. “Hey, Felicity.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but . . . “I’m sorry. I should have loved you better. I should have made it work. And I shouldn’t have blamed you for my failures.”

  He knelt before the gravestone, reading the inscription. Beloved mother of Theo, daughter, wife.

  Yes. “I will keep your memory alive for him. Remind him of your laughter, teach him to swim and enjoy all the things you loved. I will love him well.” His throat tightened. “Thank you for our son. For loving me even though I didn’t deserve it.”

  He crouched there for a moment. Then pressed his hand to his mouth, leaving a kiss on the gravestone. “You are missed.”

  Ivy sat astride the bike, just as she’d promised, and said nothing as he climbed aboard. She wrapped her arms around him again, however, and they motored down Main Street.

  “Where’s Tiger?”

  “Nan’s.”

  “You’re a good man, Darek Christiansen.”

  He smiled at that. “Trying.”

  They pulled up to the VFW and he parked the bike. “This is our big hot date?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. But tease played in her eyes.

  “Listen. This is the hottest place in town.” Indeed, the music already spilled out onto the street, the Blue Monkeys going to town with a Skynyrd song.

  “‘So don’t ask me no questions, and I won’t tell you no lies. . . .’”

  The crowd was singing along as they walked in. Darek put his hand on Ivy’s back, leading her through the room, raising his hand to Jed, who sat at the bar with Pete Holt and a few of the other hotshots. They’d spent the last couple weeks mopping up, making sure no new fires ignited, but the rainfall of the past few days meant they might be leaving soon.

  He noticed the new guy, Conner, in the corner, talking with Liza Beaumont. And his dad, sitting at a high top, his chair close to his mom’s. She caught Darek’s eye as he came in. Her smile filled him with an odd, boyish sense of joy.


  Ivy pointed to a chair next to Jensen, and Darek nodded. Jensen stood, grabbing Darek’s hand.

  Yeah, that had felt good yesterday, standing up in court for his best friend. Forgiving him.

  “You ready?” Darek asked.

  Ivy glanced at them with a frown.

  Jensen nodded.

  As they sat, he noticed a dog lying at Jensen’s feet. “They let you bring a dog in here?”

  “This is Rusty!” Jensen said over the last bars of the song. “He’s my moral support.”

  “And what am I?”

  He grinned. “You know what you are.”

  The song ended with whistles and cheering. And then Emma stepped back and Claire took the mic. She was looking pretty tonight in a simple white-and-blue floral dress, a pair of leggings, and red Converse high-tops. Her dark hair flowed in waves around her face. She looked out into the audience, her gaze landing on Jensen.

  “I have a treat for you tonight, folks. You might not know it, but we have another musician in the audience.”

  Jensen’s smile faded.

  “If you live near Evergreen Lake, sometimes you can hear the tunes of a lonely harmonica drifting over the water. Those would be the magic melodies of our very own Jensen Atwood! Jens, get up here and join me onstage.”

  Jensen glanced at Darek, something of panic on his face. “Did you know about this?”

  Darek reached into his pocket, pulled out a harmonica.

  “I’ll get you.”

  “I dare you,” he said.

  Jensen swiped the harmonica and took the stage amid the rousing cheer of the crowd.

  Ivy slipped her hand into Darek’s and squeezed.

  “What are we singing, darlin’?” Jensen said to Claire.

  “How about ‘Ring of Fire’?”

  He smiled. “Right.” Then he leaned close to the mic and began to blow out the bars. He got the band going, then belted out the song, his voice the tenor Darek remembered.

  The crowd sang along, and Darek grinned at Ivy as she clapped, met his eyes.

  “‘The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet. . . .’”

  Ivy suddenly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.