“I can’t do it,” she said, her face pale.
“I’ll be right there with you,” James said.
She shook her head; her body trembled. “I can’t.”
“You can. I know you can. Nothing’ll happen to you. I promise.”
“It’s just …” She looked at James, her eyes wet. “I’m scared.”
“I know. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She pursed her lips. “What did you say about courage before?”
“The truly courageous aren’t without fear. They’re afraid, but they go anyway.”
“I wanna be like that.”
He looked at her, his eyes unblinking. “You are.”
She opened the truck door and hopped out.
They trudged up the gravel driveway, past a beat-up Oldsmobile Cutlass from the mid-90s and a Plymouth Duster from the 70s. The Plymouth had a sparkling orange paint job and shiny chrome rims. The rear wheels were much larger than the front wheels. They climbed five wooden steps to the front door. James glanced at Brittany and knocked.
A short middle-aged man with a potbelly opened the door. His eyes locked on Brittany, scanning up and down. He had scraggly dark facial hair and a bright red T-shirt with a Dodge Ram logo. His sweatpants had stains on the knees. “Damn, girl. Never thought we’d see you again.”
Brittany looked down.
His eyes darted to James, glaring. “Who are you?”
“I’m James, a friend of Brittany’s.”
“A friend, huh?” He chuckled. “I know how that goes.” He turned his attention back to Brittany. “How old are you now girl?”
She didn’t respond.
The man counted on his fingers. “You must be eighteen at least.” He grinned. “Legal now.”
“We just came to get her birth certificate and her social security card. Or just her birth certificate, if that’s all you have.”
The man frowned. “Her what now?”
“Brittany needs her birth certificate and her social security card.”
“Hold up.” He turned around and called out, “Hey, Terri, come out here.”
“What?” a female called from the house.
“Get your ass out here,” he said louder. “Brit’s here.”
The female replied, each word getting louder as she approached. “What the hell you talkin’ ’bout her—” The petite woman’s mouth hung open as she caught a glimpse of Brittany. The woman’s hair was perm-curly and dull brown. She wore painted-on tight jeans and a fitted turtleneck. Her face was decorated like a shopping mall glamour shot.
She pursed her lips and said to Brittany, “You ain’t got nuthin’ to say?”
Brittany looked at her mom. “I just want my birth certificate.”
“Ain’t nuthin’ changed,” the man said, still staring at Brittany. “Always wantin’ somethin’. Never givin’ nuthin’.”
The woman looked at her man, staring, then narrowed her eyes at Brittany.
“Brittany needs her birth certificate and social security card,” James said.
The woman scrunched her face. “Who the hell are you?” she said.
The short man smirked. “Her friend.”
She glared at James’s left hand. “Your wife know you’re runnin’ around with this little homewrecker?” she asked.
James said, “I’ll ask you one more time to please produce her birth certificate and social security card.”
The man snickered. “Or what?”
“We’re just now gettin’ over all them problems we had,” the woman said. “Lil’ hussy comin’ on to my man. Ain’t no man gonna say no.”
Brittany stared at the ground. The man looked away.
James pulled his keys from his pocket and turned to Brittany. “Could you please go to the truck and wait for me?”
Brittany took the keys without a word, her head down.
Once she was safely out of earshot, James said, “Do you know what the statute of limitations is for statutory rape?”
“The statute of what?” the woman said.
“I ain’t never raped nobody,” the man said with his hands up. “That little whore came on to me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” James said. “She was too young to consent. She can bring charges on you until she’s fifty.”
The man’s eyes were wide.
“You some kinda lawyer?” the woman asked.
“Yes, I am,” James said. “Brittany doesn’t want to dwell on the past. She wants to move on with her life, but she can’t do that without her birth certificate and social security card. And, if she can’t move forward, the only place to go is backward. What’s it going to be?”
The woman exhaled. “Lemme see what we got.”
Brittany’s mother and her boyfriend left James on the stoop as they hunted for the paperwork. He heard them arguing.
“I don’t know where it is,” she said.
“You better find that shit,” the man replied.
“It ain’t my fault you got shit all everywhere. Can’t find nuthin’ in this house.”
James waited on the stoop for half an hour as the couple rummaged through their house. They finally appeared at the door with a thick rumpled folder. James opened it and found Brittany’s medical records, birth certificate, social security card, and even a couple school report cards. He shut the folder.
“Brittany’s a good person,” James said. “I don’t know how, given you two—”
“You best watch your mouth,” the man said.
“We ain’t did nuthin’ to her,” her mother said.
“Shut up, both of you,” James said. “You will listen to me now, or we will press charges.”
The man crossed his arms. The woman clenched her jaw.
James continued, “She’ll go on with her life. She’ll make something of herself. That I can guarantee. And you two will have to live with what you did to her.”
The door slammed as James turned and walked toward his truck. He climbed into the cab and handed the folder to Brittany. “I believe this is yours,” he said.
She sniffled and looked at James with red eyes. “You got it?”
“It’s all there. We should separate out the really important stuff and get you a lock box.”
She scooted across the long bench seat and hugged James sideways. “Thank you,” she said as she let go.
“I’m really proud of you.”
She frowned. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
“Facing them took a lot of courage. And I don’t think we would have gotten this folder if they didn’t see you face-to-face.”
She blushed. “Can we go home now?”
He cranked the engine. “Let’s never come back here again.”
“Never again.”
They drove to the end of the block and turned on the main road, leaving her old neighborhood in the rearview.
Chapter 9
Detect, Barricade, and Evade
Raindrops pelted the cabin. The sun couldn’t penetrate the dark cloud cover.
“Do you have cabin fever yet?” James asked, sitting at the kitchen table in front of his laptop. He was dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt.
Brittany lifted her nose from her book—Schooled by Gordon Korman. She was curled up on the love seat in sweats. “Huh?” she asked.
“Do you have cabin fever yet?”
“I’m not sick.”
James chuckled. “Cabin fever is when you’re stuck inside, and you really want some fresh air and sunshine.”
“Oh, … I don’t know. I like the rain. It’s cozy here. Plus I’m totally hooked on this one.” She held up the yellow dust-jacketed book.
“What do you think about taking the GED test?”
“I don’t think I would pass.”
“I’m on this website that has test prep software. Are you interested?”
She sat up straight. “Yes.”
“I’ll download the software to my computer, until
we can get you one of your own.”
She raised her eyebrows. “One what?”
“A computer. You can use mine in the meantime.”
“You would do that for me?” She placed her hand on her chest.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“Maybe, if you just sit around and play World of Warcraft. It’s an investment if you use it to earn a high school diploma, go to college, and get that great job helping people.”
James downloaded the software, shut off his laptop, and stowed it in the computer bag. He packed some trail mix in Ziploc bags.
“It seems like the ratio of M&M’s to nuts is dwindling,” James said.
Brittany looked up from her book and deadpanned, “Must be an M&M shortage.”
“Shortage, huh? Probably not a shortage in your stomach.”
She giggled.
“We should get moving. I need to be on time for office hours, and you need to be on time for Diane.”
“Do you think Diane would care if I went in sweats?”
“I have girls that come to class in pajamas.” He smirked. “You’ve seen it. Real live pajamas with little bunnies on them. I doubt your sweats will raise an eyebrow.”
* * *
Brittany sat in the back of class, her eyes glued to James’s laptop, working on her GED prep. She was unaware when James dismissed the class. The students filed out.
“Jessica, could I talk to you for a minute?” James asked, standing behind his desk.
“What’s up?” Jessica said, walking over, her book and notebook in hand.
“Brittany wanted to get a job at the diner. Do you think they would hire her?”
Jessica glanced at Brittany. She was still glued to the laptop. Jessica spoke in a whisper. “I think I’ve seen her before. Like before you introduced us.”
James raised his eyebrows.
“When I first starting working there, two years ago,” Jessica said. “I think she used to pick food out of the diner’s Dumpster. The night manager, Rod, told her to stop, but she kept coming back. He called the police on her. They took her away, and I didn’t see her again until you brought her in.”
“She’s had it rough—”
“It’s not that. If it were up to me, I would definitely hire her. She seems real sweet. It’s just that Rod’s an asshole. He might remember her.”
James frowned.
“On the other hand, he might not. He’s kind of a dumb ass.”
“We’ll keep looking.”
Jessica turned and looked at Brittany, then back to James. “You know, she looked pretty rough then. But I can see she’s cute. I bet, with some girly clothes, a haircut, and some makeup, Rod wouldn’t even recognize her.”
“You want to give her a makeover?”
She smiled and stepped back from the desk, motioning to her jeans and fleece. “This is about as girly as I get, but my younger sister is all into that stuff. She helped me for my interview.”
“You think she’d do it?”
“She loves that crap.”
“This is really nice of you. I’ll ask Brittany about it first. Also please don’t say anything about the Dumpster-diving. I don’t want her to be embarrassed.”
“I understand, Mr. Fisher. I won’t mention it.” She whispered, “Can I ask you why you’re doing this? I mean, I know you’re not a creeper.”
“The guy she was living with was … not so nice. I’m just trying to help her out, until she gets on her feet.”
* * *
James paced back and forth in the dim light of the cabin. He pulled his cell phone from the side pocket of his sweatpants and glanced at the time. It’s 11:34. She should have been home a half hour ago. What if Harold got a hold of her? He moved next to the window. He pressed his face near the glass. He saw darkness and the outline of trees. He flipped the switch for the porch light up and down, up and down. The porch stayed dark. He heard leaves rustling in the wind. He continued pacing. Relax. She’s an adult … technically. She’s probably just having fun.
He heard the faint sound of an engine and the crackle of gravel beneath car tires. He saw headlights moving toward him. The car turned into his driveway, the headlights sweeping across his front yard, illuminating a dark figure for a split second. His stomach leapt. He ran to the kitchen and fished the flashlight from the bottom drawer. James flicked on the flashlight as he sprinted outside. He moved the beam of light back and forth across the front yard. … Nothing. He ran past the car to the backyard, shining his flashlight toward the woods and the trail. Nothing but trees, leaves, and brush. Jesus, I really am losing it.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany called out.
James turned around and walked toward the Honda Civic in the driveway. Brittany was illuminated by the headlights. She stood in tall boots, a skirt just above her knees, and a blousy top. Her hair was styled and cut to shoulder-length.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany asked again.
“I thought I saw something. It was nothing.”
Jessica marched over and put her arm around Brittany. “What do you think, Mr. Fisher?”
James nodded with a smile. “Very pretty.”
“Pretty?” Jessica replied with a scowl. “She’s freakin’ hot.”
James chuckled.
A striking well-dressed young blonde exited the passenger door. Jessica introduced James to her sister.
Afterward James said, “Jessica, I’ll see you in class. It was nice to meet you, Denise.” He started back to the cabin.
The girls said their good-byes, making plans to hang out again. The little Honda reversed down the driveway. Brittany strutted into the cabin, her hands full of shopping bags, and her face smooth and even with the understated makeup. James moved past her and locked the door.
She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”
James stepped away from the door and forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. How did it go?”
Her words spilled out in rapid-fire excitement. “Jessica and Denise are really nice. Denise taught me how to do my makeup so I look classy, and she taught me what to look for with clothes, and she took me to her hair stylist.” She set the bags next to the dresser and spun around. “So what do you think?”
“You look fantastic,” he replied.
“Guess what else?”
He shrugged.
“You know how I’m ’posed to interview on Monday?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, when we were at the mall, Rod called Jessica, asking her to work on Sunday. I guess they had someone quit or somethin’. Anyway, he asked Jessica if she had my number because he wanted to move up the interview. Jessica said I was with her. We just came from the diner.” She smiled.
“What happened?”
“I got the job.” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands together. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said in quick succession.
He pulled away with a grin. “Congratulations. We should celebrate tomorrow. Why don’t we go to dinner? Anywhere you want to go.”
She bit her lower lip. “We could celebrate tonight.” She sashayed into his personal space, her hips rocking back and forth. She gazed up at him, the heels on her boots putting her lips within striking distance. She pressed her lips to his, and reached down and rubbed her hand over his crotch.
James recoiled, his breath heavy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We can’t.”
She moved back into James’s personal space, her teeth raking her lower lip. “Why not?”
James put his outstretched hands on her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s-length. “I’m too old for you.”
She scowled, her eyes watering. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”
“Of course I do, but this is not good for you. Especially …”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped to the love seat. She sat down and unzipped her boots. She pulled
the boots off her feet and dumped them on the wood floor. “What are you doin’ with me then?” she said. “Why are you buyin’ me stuff and helpin’ me? What are you gettin’ outta this? Are you some kinda freak?”
James sat in the recliner and swiveled toward her. “Would you believe that it makes me happy to help you?”
“Then why won’t you let me pay you back?”
“Your dream job, that job helping people, do you want to do it because of the money, because of the payback?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Knowin’ that I did somethin’ good for someone is the payback.”
“If you can do it, why can’t I?”
“I’m just used to men …” Her eyes filled with tears.
“A lot of nice guys are out there. You’ll find one who’s right for you.”
“How?” She sniffled.
“You have to work on you first. Understand?”
“I think so.” She wiped her eyes with the side of her index finger, smudging her mascara. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to this.”
* * *
James stared at the tiny wires dangling behind the porch light. Was it always cut? Did the porch light ever work? He exhaled and entered the cabin. Sunlight pierced the windows. James made coffee and sat at the kitchen table in sweats, his laptop in front of him. Brittany sat across from him, eating cereal.
“What time are you working today? James asked.
“Four to twelve,” she replied.
“We need to get you a driver’s license.”
“Jessica said she’d drop me off.”
James shook his head. “It’s out of her way. I’ll be there to pick you up. Have you ever driven a car before?”
“No,” she replied.
James rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’m not sure you’ll reach the pedals on my truck.”
She set down her spoon. “You’re really not gonna let me drive, are you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
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