Finding Valor

by Ripley Proserpina

  “We’re making dinner.” Her eyes cut to him, and she smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Chuckling and smiling, he edged closer. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Jambalaya.”

  “Huh?” Rubbing across his forehead, he felt tiny wrinkles along his skin. “What’s the problem with jambalaya?”

  “Of the two of us, my friend,” Matisse answered. “Who do you think has the most experience with this dish?”

  “Tisse,” she argued. “I believe you. But I had a plan. Let me do it.”

  “Cher—”

  “Fine!” Throwing up her hands, she turned around and winked at Ryan. “Ingredients are in the fridge.”

  Ryan had never made jambalaya, but it sounded like a complicated dish for a bunch of exhausted people who’d just arrived home from the hospital. It wouldn’t be his first choice. Canned soup or toaster waffles was about all he could handle. Easy and warm. Done in minutes.

  “Did you just play me?” Matisse asked when Nora sat.

  “What do you mean?” Smiling sweetly, she took a sip of water. “You wanted to cook, and then you wanted to make jambalaya. I’m letting you cook.”

  Ryan didn’t know what had happened before he got there, but he got the distinct impression Nora was teaching Matisse a lesson. At times, his friend was the equivalent of a backseat driver in the kitchen. Next time, he might decide to keep his opinions to himself if the result was cooking on his own.

  “How was Cai?” Dark eyes met his. Placing the water on the table, she leaned forward. “What happened?”

  “He was asleep when I left. I think he was exhausted.” Remembering Cai’s mild fever, he debated telling Nora but decided against it. “He’ll be better soon.” He reached for her hand, and she took it, squeezing before leaning back in her chair.

  A clang from the stove made them both jump. “Need help?” she asked.

  “Non.” The sizzle of oil and smell of cooking onions filled the kitchen.

  “Is there anything you need to do to prepare?” she asked Ryan after a moment of staring at Matisse.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan answered honestly. “I don’t know what the council will ask or what Beau will say.”

  She studied him, and he shifted uneasily. After a moment, she stood and placed herself carefully in his lap, leaning her head against his chest. “I love you, Ryan. No matter what happens tomorrow, I am grateful for whatever it is that shaped you into you. Without it, I could be in jail. I most certainly never would have met all of you.”

  Embarrassed, he shrugged, but she didn’t let him get away with his disparaging gesture. “It’s a big deal to me, Ryan. You gave me hope. A future. You gave me Matisse, and even though he’s burning the bottom of that pan while he eavesdrops, I am so grateful for him. For all of you.”

  Her plump lips tempted him, and he gave in. They were cool, and her tongue when it touched his was chilly from the water she’d been drinking. Her fingers trailed along the shell of his ear, making him shiver and wrap her a little closer. Another bang sounded from the stove. Slowly, her tongue tracing her lower lip, she drew away from him. He remained focused on the tantalizing sight of her tongue tip hiding behind her swollen lips.

  “Do you want help?” Nora asked.

  Confused, he tried to make sense of what she meant, but a loud sigh came from behind him. “Fine.”

  Winking at Ryan, she stood. Matisse watched the floor, his cheeks pink.

  “Catch!” she cried out, and Matisse’s head whipped up. Jumping at him, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and raspberried his neck. Unable to help himself, Matisse started laughing along with his friend. His arms came up to hold her tightly, muscles flexing.

  When she whispered in Matisse’s ear, his eyes closed and Ryan wondered what Nora said to him to make him so content. Slowly, her legs dropped to the floor and, reaching around him, she grasped the pan of celery and onion and moved it to a back burner.

  A pair of twinkling, dark eyes met his as Nora raised her eyebrows. “Waffles for supper.”

  “Perfect,” Ryan answered, staring at the girl who was meant for him.

  Thirty-Four

  Defense Rests

  RYAN’S MIND WENT over his argument again and again on the drive to Calvin Coolidge School of Law. His stomach lurched, but he shoved down his nervousness. This was his first defense, and it was the one that would kick off any other defenses he made in the future.

  Every time doubt whispered at him, he countered it.

  Never before had he realized how angry his inner voice was, how mean it could be. The things he whispered to himself, the things he pushed away, were cruel.

  You’re a horrible person.

  What makes you think you deserve this?

  Beau has every right to ruin your life.

  You don’t deserve a life.

  A cool hand crept across his palm, small fingers lacing with his, and he glanced quickly at Nora. Driving so he could review the essay he’d written, she caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile. “Shut down that voice, Ryan. You are a good person, and you need to fight for this. There are a million me’s in this world, and they deserve someone like you to protect them.”

  Her words made a lump form in his throat. The belief she had in him was unbelievable. Uncannily, she’d read his silence correctly, and he nodded. The rhythmic tick of the turn signal had him looking around. The hour and half had passed in a flash, and Nora was carefully steering the car down the offramp.

  Withdrawing his hand from hers, he folded the essay and tucked it into his bag. His breath left him in a huff, fogging the passenger side window.

  “Distract me.” His voice came out a whisper.

  “Cai seemed better this morning. His rash was paler, and his skin is starting to turn gold again,” she said.

  “I thought so, too.”

  “Did you hear the nurse say his temperature had remained normal for twelve hours?”

  Ryan nodded. He had. The news was an enormous relief. Cai had ventured to eat dinner last night, and when they’d arrived this morning, he was having breakfast, swallowing with no trouble. They’d sat with him for a while, listening to the doctor describe his improvement and her prognosis. Soon he’d be home and things could get back to normal.

  Or whatever their new normal turned out to be.

  “I don’t remember where the parking lot is.” Smiling at him apologetically, she pointed with her finger. “That way?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Next left, and then on the right.”

  She followed his directions, parking in the near empty lot behind the admissions building. “I’d like to come in.”

  What was the right answer? What would it hurt for her to come inside with him?

  Nothing.

  Was he worried about appearances? He was already defending himself after sending an innocent man to prison. Making a good impression was out the window at this point.

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah?” Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she asked, “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll need you either way,” he answered honestly.

  Her smile was tinged with sadness. “Good.” She squeezed his hand and pushed her door open, waiting for him in the cold.

  The little warmth they’d had was gone, leaving the pavement slick. Shuffling, she held onto the car for balance until she could loop her arm in his and they could make their way inside.

  The door squeaked as it opened, catching the attention of the group of people standing in the atrium. Nora jerked, startled, and held onto him a bit tighter. Not expecting to meet the people he’d be facing like this, he struggled to stay confident and not dip his head in shame.

  “Ryan.” The dean of admissions stepped forward, holding out her hand. “We’ve been waiting; come in and have a seat. We’ll meet you in a moment. Your guest is welcome to sit here.” She gestured to a small room off the atrium decorat
ed like a den, complete with easy chairs and a gas fireplace.

  “Thank you,” he answered and turned to Nora.

  Even though she gnawed on her lip nervously, she pinned him with her stare. “You got this,” she whispered. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Suddenly, there was no one but the two of them. They didn’t have the complete attention of the students watching them, judging every move he made. It was just Nora and her eyes and the love she wanted him to see.

  He bent, kissing her gently before standing. As he straightened, he caught the wide, angry eyes of Beau. Everyone else became a blur until it was only him and Beau, staring at each other across years and hurts.

  As he watched, a mask came over his former friend, shuttering the anger and banking the rage that had glared at him a moment before.

  “I love you,” Nora whispered, and her cool lips pressed against his cheek. Squeezing his hand again, she stepped away, winding her way through the crowd to the sitting room. Beau’s eyes followed her, eyebrows drawing together.

  Unable to hold his stare any longer, Ryan turned to the room where they’d be meeting and went inside. In front of each seat was a name written on card stock and under the card stock, a small pile of papers, facedown. His name was at the head of the table. Sitting, he imagined people seated down the length of the table. Behind him, the door opened and closed, and footsteps padded across the floor. Expecting the group, he turned.

  Beau.

  Only Beau.

  Taking the seat nearest him, his old friend said, “It’s like a duel. They sent me in to see if there’s anything you can say to change my mind.”

  “Beau,” his voice cracked, and he leaned forward, studying his friend’s face.

  There were lines around his eyes. Hard lines. Lines making him seem years older.

  Ryan had done this to him.

  Here was his opportunity. The voice of self-hatred, the one existing at the forefront of his mind for so long, tried to overwhelm him with shame, but he fought it.

  “Because of you,” Ryan began, “and what I did to you, I had to work much harder at being a good person than I probably would have.”

  “Don’t care. This is a waste of time; I’m calling them in.”

  “Beau, wait,” he called. “Listen.”

  “The girl out there, Nora. You’re her boyfriend.”

  He nodded.

  “Did you send her here to me on purpose? To fuck with me?”

  “No!” Ryan answered quickly. “I had no idea you even went here.”

  “I’m here because of you,” he spat. “I should thank you. I’ll defend innocent people. People like me who might never stand a chance against liars like you.”

  Bile rose in his throat, burning. “I began a program at Brownington, a place for students who have juvenile records. It offers tutoring and opportunities for community justice.”

  “Justice?” The word dripped with sarcasm. “You began a program for criminals, thinking of me?”

  “I began it for people like me,” he replied quickly, leaning forward. “People like me who did something they were ashamed of and want to do something to make up for it.”

  “You made a community service program.”

  “No. Well. Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s not picking up garbage from the side of the road; we do things like—”

  Beau held up his hand. “I don’t care.” Sitting forward, he stared coldly at him. “I’m listening to you, and I hear the things coming out of your mouth, and all I hear is you you you. You needed to feel better. You needed to make amends. What about me, Ryan?”

  “I think about you all the time, Beau.”

  “What did you do for me, though? What did you do for my family?”

  The door opened to the room, students and the dean filing inside.

  “We overheard you,” she said by way of explanation. “I take it you weren’t able to come to an understanding?”

  “Hardly,” Beau answered.

  “No,” Ryan agreed. “I don’t think so.”

  One by one the students sat, leaving Beau next to Ryan and the dean at the foot of the table. Each person regarded Ryan curiously.

  “We read your letter, Ryan,” the dean began, turning over the paper beneath the name place. “We found your argument worthy of giving you this opportunity to make a defense.”

  A breath left him, and his focus became a pinpoint. This was his opportunity; the only one he’d get.

  “Beau asked me a question before you arrived, and I believe I owe him an answer.”

  “You owe me a lot of things, Ryan. An answer is the least of them.”

  He went on, even with Beau staring daggers at him. “Beau asked me what I did for his family to make up for what I did to him, and I want to answer him.” He took a breath, framing his thoughts and trying to put them into words. “Beau is an only child, but he was never spoiled. I mean, he still had the most Transformers of anyone in the neighborhood, but he never got away with anything. He used to complain that both of his parents watched him like a hawk and anytime he stepped out of line they were there, towing him back to the center.”

  He hazarded a glance at Beau. Staring at the table like he could see through it, his fingers tapped restlessly.

  “I’m an only as well, but I’m a spoiled brat. Or I was. I probably still am. Beau’s parents never stopped fighting for him. They believed in him. You don’t know this, Beau.” He glanced up when Ryan said his name. “But I went to see your parents to apologize.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and Ryan nodded. “I know. I shouldn’t have. It hurt your mother and father.”

  The hand on the table fisted, but he went on, “There are networks for parents with kids who have disabilities like autism. Support systems in place for them as they deal with a diagnosis that changes their life. When I saw your mom and what I did to her, I knew she needed something but it was nothing I could give to her. So I got in touch with a woman named Brenda Lazlo.”

  “Brenda?” Beau rapped his knuckles on the table. “My Brenda?”

  Brenda was a parole officer in the juvenile court system; she was also the mother of a man who was serving a life sentence for murder. Together, Brenda and Ryan had started a parent-to-parent support network for mothers and fathers whose children were incarcerated. Eventually, Brenda took the group one step further and hooked it up with a project for people claiming innocence for an incarcerated loved one.

  “Yes,” Ryan answered.

  “Sorry,” the dean interrupted. “You mean Brenda Lazlo from The Evidence Project.”

  Both Beau and Ryan nodded. Around the table there were murmurs from the students. Brenda was well known both locally and nationally now after some of their high profile cases had released men and women who’d turned out to be innocent of the crimes they’d been convicted.

  “In addition to the group you began with Brenda Lazlo, you started a program for juvenile offenders at Brownington College,” the dean added.

  Nodding, he caught Beau watching him with a look of confusion.

  “You also changed the mission of the Greek system at Brownington to be one for community support and development, one based on volunteerism?” another council member asked.

  “Yes.”

  Shaking his head now, Beau stood. He pushed in his chair and faced the room. “I withdraw my objection to Ryan’s admittance. I formally request he be reinstated to the active list.”

  Around the table, people nodded, making sounds of agreement. “Beau Curtis put forth a motion; what says the committee?”

  A chorus of yays sounded, and like that, it was over. Ryan stood. “Beau, wait.” But he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.

  People wanting to introduce themselves surrounded Ryan. Shaking hands, he kept one eye on the door. He hoped Beau would return but admitted it was unlikely.

  The crowd parted, allowing the dean to sneak through. She he
ld out her hand and shook Ryan’s. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in the fall, Ryan.”

  “Thank you,” he answered. “And thank you for the opportunity to defend myself.”

  “You didn’t need to at the end. We’re proud to have you as one of our incoming students.”

  Once more she shook his hand, signaling an end to the committee meeting. Leaving the room, he looked for Nora and found her standing in the door frame, cracking her knuckles anxiously. When their eyes met, she stepped forward. Taking in the smiles and pats from the others as they left the admissions building, comprehension lightened her face.

  Her lips mashed together, but she walked to him quickly and wound her arms around his waist. “You did it.”

  “I’m in.” Saying it aloud didn’t make it any more believable. “Beau dropped his objection to my admittance.”

  Drawing back, she studied his face. “He forgave you?”

  No. But something close to it. He’d gained understanding maybe, an awareness of the work Ryan did to make up for the wrong he’d committed.

  “A start.” She punctuated her answer with a sharp nod.

  Agreeing, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s a start.”

  Thirty-Five

  Acquittal

  WHEN NORA HAD caught Beau leaving, head down, wiping his face with his hands, she’d stood quickly.

  He stopped, turning as if he sensed her standing there. “He’s in.”

  “Thank you,” she’d whispered. “Beau?”

  His face had been etched with pain and confusion, but he waited for her to go on.

  “You did the right thing.”

  His eyes had closed as he shook his head. “I didn’t do anything,” he’d replied and left.

  The doors to the meeting room had opened, and her attention had turned in that direction. When Ryan’d emerged from the room and come right to her, she’d forgotten momentarily about Beau.

  Now on the ride home, their good news delivered to Seok, Matisse, Apollo, and Cai, her mind went back to Beau. Something had changed for him today. From what Ryan told her, Ryan had explained the ways he’d sought to make amends for what he’d done. Never before had Beau given him the opportunity to explain the good he’d tried to do.