Chasing Peace
Page 25
“God, I hope so.” He smiles down at me his eyes shining with something I can’t define, but I have my suspicions. “I think I love you too.” My world spins with his words, like a rollercoaster, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
“Here. Let me put it on for you.”
Sliding off the counter I turn lifting my hair as Boston pulls the fine chain from the box. He hooks it around my neck, his fingers tickling and making me shiver as I think that while the future remains uncertain, it’s waiting for me to create my own life. It’s waiting for me to reach out and grab hold of love with both hands, daring the universe to try and take it away from me. And if it does, I know now that living life far outweighs the agony of loss.
“Thank you Boston. How is it that you understand me so well?”
“How is it that you understand me so well?” he answers back.
It feels a little strange, but also very right. We’re both looking to the future and we’re staring in the same direction.
* * *
I couldn’t sit, pacing back and forth, thankful to be wearing soft soled flats. My shoes remain quiet on the terrazzo floor instead of creating sharp clacking sounds that echo into the cold stone hallway with every nervous step.
“Sit down Sterling. You’re wearing tracks in the floor,” says Annie. Her shoes clacked. I smile at her and continue pacing. Boston and Lyla are here with me too. They’re sitting together on a wooden bench, much like a church pew.
I’m thankful for their support, although I realize I’m doing this on my own. I’m doing this for Emma. For the first time in a long time, I’m not hiding from the past, because I don’t live there anymore.
Smiling to myself this time, I turn for another pass, fingers massaging my wrist, sliding back and forth from the joint on my thumb to just above my wrist. Pausing midstride, question in my hesitation, I consider for a moment. I don’t push on my hand. I don’t wrench my wrist to let off pressure. I don’t need to. When did that happen?
Tilting my head in thought, I try to remember the last time I cracked my wrist, and I’m not sure. Maybe that last party, maybe when Boston and I got back together. I can’t quite remember, but it it doesn’t really matter, as long as I’ve stopped. It’s such a small thing, yet it seems so monumental.
“You know,” I offer into the echoing hallway, “It’s been ages since I’ve cracked my wrist. I can’t even remember the last time it bothered me.”
“That’s good,” says Boston.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I agree with a smile, thinking it feels pretty good to feel whole again.
“You’re healing,” says Lyla.
“Healing physically and emotionally,” adds Annie.
That makes me think, crossing my arms across my chest in denial of having been less than whole.
My mom hasn’t arrived yet.
When Rand approaches, I find out why. “Sterling? Can I talk to you a minute before we get started?” He’s serious and professional and earnest.
“Sure.”
“Have a seat.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Sit.” It’s a command I’m compelled to obey.
There’s a hush in the air as I sit. Annie and Boston have gone quiet, but it’s more than that, a premonition sparked by Rand’s tone.
“The people really need you for this one Sterling.”
“Yeah. Are you sure my mom can’t testify too. I saw her yesterday and she’s doing really well.”
“The jury won’t be sympathetic. She left her child with someone who was drunk so she could go get drunk herself.”
“But she’s not drinking now.” I feel like I’m pleading to no avail.
“Here’s the thing Sterling. You mother is here today.”
“Oh good.” I interrupt, wondering why he’s being so resistant.
“No, not good. She was picked up last night for OWI. She’s downstairs being arraigned.”
“Oh.” It’s like that one small word let all the air out of me.
“I’m sorry Sterling. This is exactly why adding her to the witness list bothered me so much.”
“Her sixth now, was anyone hurt?”
“Thankfully no.”
I don’t understand why she can’t stop drinking and I know I never will.
“Thanks for letting me know Rand. If nothing else, it’s nice to know I won’t have to worry about where she went or what happened to her.”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news Sterling.”
“It’s not your fault.” He squeezed my hand and I changed the subject. “So I really have to wait out here until it’s my turn to testify?”
“Yes, but it won’t be long. We’ll take care of some court business, they’ll bring in the jury and then it’s you.” He stood, still holding my hand. You’ll do fine Sterling.”
I smile at his reassurance, the tremulous smile of a little girl left alone again to fend for herself, but I straighten my spine as I watch him stride into the courtroom. Fear and misery came to the surface, but I brushed them aside. I’m not that little girl anymore.
“Sterling? Are you okay?” asks Boston as he crosses the hall to my side. I lift my face to his.
Annie follows him over. “We heard,” she says as they both sit, like bookends on either side of me. “Is there anything we can do?”
“No. I’ve been through this before.” I look to Lyla who nods in reassurance. “I’ll be fine and at least I know she’s not drinking her life away, for now.”
I smile and resume my pacing. I pivot, turning back toward the elevators just as they slide open, almost soundlessly. Mrs. Lambert steps out, followed by Logan and his father. I pause arrested by shock.
“He told you,” I whisper, surprised that Logan found the strength at last.
“We’re so sorry Sterling,” cried Mrs. Lambert as she rushes forward grasping both of my hands in hers before tugging me into a smothering hug.
My voice by her ear, “I’m glad Logan finally told you.” She pulls back and smiles at me, a smile hinting at sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry for your loss Mrs. Lambert.” I look beyond her, including Mr. Lambert too, “even if you never knew.”
“Thank you dear.” She squeezes my hands with the statement. “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you. If we had been, this might never have happened.” She looks guilty, the guilt of the survivor, eternally questioning. I know because I’ve been there. In some ways, I’m still there.
Mrs. Lambert holds me still and I take comfort while offering some of my own. Looking over her shoulder, I mouth to Logan, “Are you okay?”
He nods with a grim smile, holding tightly to his courage as Mrs. Lambert and I pull apart.
Boston steps up behind me, resting a strong hand on my lower back.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lambert, this is Boston, my boyfriend.”
“Hello son.” Mr. Lambert stretches out his hand. “Take good care of our girl.”
“I do sir.” Boston is respectful, squeezing Mrs. Lambert’s hand with both of his while saying, “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
Logan, shuffling his feet with hands in his pockets pulls a hand free when Boston offers his. They say nothing, but both offer curt nods as if coming to an understanding.
“Sterling Adams? The people call Sterling Adams.” A bailiff calls into the hallway, command in his voice.
I feel Boston’s hand again at my back, tense and lending support.
Raising my hand, I step forward. “I’m Sterling.”
“You’re called to testify.” His big voice echoes in the hallway. Looking past me he adds, “Anyone who wants to come in better come now or you’ll be waiting for the next break.”
I follow him through the double doors, my fingers clenched around the necklace from Boston. He trails, just behind to my right. “You can do this,” he says.
“I can do this.” I whisper as I step forward, Boston’s hand dropping away. I can hear the shuffle beh
ind me as friends and family find seats.
“The people call Sterling Adams.”
Straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders, I step through the swinging doors, just like you see in the movies. I pledge to tell the truth and take my seat. My eyes skim the crowd. I pick out Annie, the Lamberts and Boston, but not my mother.
Glancing at Brock behind the defense table, I feel calm. I forgive him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s responsible and I’ll always hold him accountable, but I forgive him and I forgive myself.
My eyes finally move to the larger-than-life poster of Emma resting on an easel across from the jury. I miss Emma. I miss her sunny smile captured so beautifully in the photo. I miss her fat crocodile tears as well as the red-faced screaming tears that were real. Most of all, I miss her love.
“I’m here for you Emma. I’m here to speak for you,” I whisper, my eyes meeting Boston’s. I smile at him, a watery quavering smile. From the corner of my eye I see the assistant district attorney, Rand, coming to his feet and stepping from behind the table.
I’m ready.
From the Author
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Other Books by Gloria Foxx
Courageous
Abbi, a college freshman, has trouble with men and she knows exactly why. She wanted to fix it. She’s tried to be like everyone else, but they all knew who she really was. They all knew her secret.
Now away from that small-town judgment, in a much larger community, she can blend in. No one knows her here. They don’t know her past, but she does. Abbi is her own worst enemy. If only she can get past the first time, but to do that, she’ll have to get beyond the whispers in her mind.
Then she finds Dominic. He’s a little older, a little wiser and a whole lot sexier than anyone from back home. He takes charge and what happens next will make Abbi whole or it will break her. Either way, it changes their lives forever.
Table of Contents
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
From the Author
Find me and share your thoughts:
Other Books by Gloria Foxx