Not that he thought she would listen.
Jon pulled into his parking space and jogged up the stairs to his apartment. He dropped his keys on the small table by the door and hung his jacket on the hook. It was the same place he had lived since his days at the University. The same worn couch graced the living room, the same second hand table in the kitchen. With a sigh, Jon poured himself a drink.
He plopped down on his couch and looked at Sarah’s journal. Well, he thought, no time like the present. He grabbed it up and started to read.
Jamie’s birthday was going well. The few children that had come were playing in the yard with water balloons and squirt guns. The kitchen was a wreck, cake crumbs and tissue paper scattered everywhere, not to mention the dirt and mud the children tracked in. Their parents would no doubt be unhappy about them being soaked and jacked up on sugar and soda, but Sarah didn’t care. They were having a blast and that was all that mattered. As long as her son was happy, Sarah was happy.
“He looks happy,” Tony said, coming to stand beside Sarah at the back door. Tony was Jamie’s biological father. He had little presence in Jamie’s life, which was just fine by Sarah. He alternated between thinking he was too good for his own family and rotting in a jail cell for drugs or something equally distasteful. Sarah wondered what she had ever seen in him. Not his high moral character, that was for sure. Mostly, she thought, it was because her mother hated him and Sarah had been a rebelling teenager. The only good thing that had come from their relationship was Jamie.
“He is happy,” Sarah finally responded. “He is growing up so fast.”
“Tell me about it. It seems only yesterday we brought him home from the hospital.” Tony snaked his arm around Sarah’s waist. She deftly maneuvered out of his grasp. Tony was hitting on her again, and she wanted no part of it.
“Knock it off, Tony,” she snapped.
“I’ve changed, Sarah,” he whispered.
Yeah, right. And the moon is purple. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Sarah said. “We’re over. Have been for a long time now. I’m married.”
“I don’t like him,” Tony said. For once in his fruitless life the man was telling the truth. It was written all over his face by the worry lines he had recently acquired.
“You don’t have to like him. And I don’t care about how you feel about him. That’s the beauty of breaking up.”
“Just promise me you won’t let him hurt you,” Tony insisted. “I think he really could. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him that I don’t trust.”
“This from the man who steals and takes drugs. Thanks for the warning.”
“I mean it Sarah. I screwed up, ok, I admit it. But whether you believe it or not, I really have changed. I’ve been sober for a year now, and I stopped stealing. I got a job, and I got my own place. I will never be that man ever again. And I am worried about you. And I am worried about Jamie. Just promise me you’ll protect him, and if the day comes that you don’t think you can do that on your own, that you will call me.”
“Sure, fine. I promise.” Fat chance of that ever happening, Sarah thought. She didn’t trust Tony any farther that she could bodily pick him up and throw him. But she agreed to placate him.
Sarah finally relaxed when the party was over and Jamie was in bed fast asleep. She was getting out of the shower when William walked into the bathroom.
“So, getting along awfully well with Tony today weren’t you?” he snapped with anger. His eyes were piercing and his face was drawn into a frown. He stumbled toward her and nearly lost his balance. Of course, he made sure not to spill the beer he held in his hand.
“He swears he is trying to make himself a life,” Sarah replied, drying herself. “I hope for his sake he does. Jamie needs him.”
“Seemed to me like you guys were too friendly,” William snapped. “So what, are you planning to leave me for him now that he’s sober?”
Sarah was dumbfounded by his angry words. What on Earth would make him think that? She despised Tony, and that was the kindest way of expressing her feelings for the man. She could care less if he dropped off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again. The only part of her that cared at all was the part that knew Jamie loved him. Faults and all. When Sarah finally spoke, it was with confidence and a razor edge to her voice. “Jealousy does not become you,” she said, staring into his dark eyes.
“I knew it!” William snapped, throwing his hands in the air. The smell of whiskey permeated the air around him. He was drunk, she thought. Again. She knew the day had gone over too well. “I knew you would deny it. Sarah, I saw you talking to him. I saw the way you looked at him. Don’t insult me by lying! Fucking whore! I knew you were a dirty slut the first time I met you. But I married you anyway. I even take care of your son! How many men do you know who would marry a woman with a kid? Not too damn many, that’s for sure. Well, I don’t care. Go back to him. Let him hurt you again. See if I care! Then, when he does, don’t come crawling back to me.”
“What is wrong with you?” Sarah asked slowly. His outrage was completely unwarranted. Sarah felt a twinge of fear in her gut. Why was he acting like this? Why was he saying these things? Even the excuse of being drunk wasn’t enough to warrant his behavior. And so what if she already had a child when they got married? Lots of men married into ready made families. Did he think he was special? What did he want? A cookie? A blue ribbon? Well, he wasn’t getting it from Sarah. Not with that attitude.
“You should be thanking me; instead, you stab me in the back. Well guess what! No other man would put up with your crap. No other man would want a dirty slut like you. Just try and see!” he snapped back at her, and then he turned to leave the bathroom. Sarah was left standing in her towel, naked, her mouth gaping open at the sudden exchange.
“What a piece of work,” Jon mumbled to himself. Given the time line, Sarah could have only been married to him for about two years. Jon had to speak with Sarah’s family to gather information in the beginning, as Sarah wasn’t very forthcoming with it on her own. He had learned through her sisters that William was good to Sarah at first. But then, somewhere along the way, things went sour. He stopped trusting her. Or rather he had stopped pretending that he ever had. He drank himself into a stupor nearly every day by the time they celebrated their third anniversary. Jon knew that alcohol could do horrible things to a man’s character. But there was no excuse for talking to Sarah like that. And moreover, why had Sarah put up with it?
Jon flipped through several more pages of the journal. It seemed that William said a lot of unkind things to Sarah, even early on in their marriage. Jon’s stomach twisted at some of the things he read. According to Sarah, William had called her far worse than a whore. He told her she was lazy, stupid, and unattractive. Jon wished fervently that William was still alive so that he could rip his tongue out for uttering such blasphemous words.
Sarah was anything other than unattractive. Her long brown hair flowed straight and smooth over her average frame, her eyes were the color of liquid mercury. She was by no means overweight, but not skinny either. In Jon’s opinion, she was just right. He never could understand why women tried so hard to starve themselves to death. A body with no meat on it was not what Jon thought of as attractive. Sarah had just enough weight to look healthy. Her round face was full and smooth, her cheeks always bearing a slight rouge. The only time she had ever appeared pale was the first night he met her.
Not wanting to put the journal down, Jon moved to his desk and started up his computer. If he was going to read, he might as well get some work done. He opened up a new Word document and began typing Sarah’s written words.
He pecked away at the keypad until the first light of dawn came streaming into his apartment from the east window. The entire night had slipped away from him! All the while he was working, he was reading. Jon absorbed the information as he turned the pages of the journal one after another. She was very thorough in her writing. Sarah did not dw
ell on the stupid things William had done to her, but included a great many of the good times they had shared as well. Jon found himself laughing as she described herself trying to learn to ice skate with her then five year old son. He wanted to cry when she learned of her father’s illness. Jon pondered this as he saved the document and shut down his computer. He reluctantly closed the journal after using an envelope to mark his place. It was at that moment, when he realized how much he wanted to continue to read even though he couldn’t see straight, how good Sarah really was at writing. She captivated his mind, drawing him into her story.
With a quick glance at the clock over his desk, Jon decided he had to make a phone call. It was six in the morning already, which meant it was eight in New York. He rummaged through a drawer until he found what he had been looking for. It was his old address book. He skimmed the pages until he found the number for Jenny Windsor. She had been a dear friend to Jon in undergraduate school; they had even dated for a time. But as it was, they both decided they were better off as friends. They still kept in touch, even though their lives had taken them in different directions. Jon left to attend Harvard Law, and Jenny majored in Literature. She was now a successful literary agent. While Jon returned home to Oklahoma, Jenny moved to New York. He fetched out his cell phone and dialed the number.
“Hello?” a sleepy feminine voice answered after three rings.
“Jenny?” Jon asked, a little unsure.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s Jon, did I wake you?”
Jon heard the soft sounds of blankets and shuffling. She was no doubt still in bed. Jon felt a little bit guilty, knowing he had waked her. “Yeah, I was still lounging in the bed. But it’s ok, I always like to talk to you.”
“I truly am sorry for getting you up. It’s Saturday, and I should have remembered that you like to sleep in.”
“Don’t be silly,” she remarked. “What’s up?”
“Well, this is more of a business call rather than personal,” Jon replied. “I have something you might be interested in.”
“Hold on, I can’t talk business unless I have some coffee first. So let’s make small talk while I get it brewing. How have you been?”
“Ok, I guess. I work a lot, as you know.”
“Still single?” Jon thought he could hear the smile in her voice. Jenny had tried to set him up with a couple of her acquaintances over the years, none of which panned out to anything other than a single date. For some reason, Jenny felt it was up to her to make sure Jon had a personal life outside of his clients.
“You know me, always the bachelor.”
“Me too,” she said. “Men don’t like powerful women. They don’t like women who don’t and won’t need a man to depend on.”
“I think a self sufficient woman is a blessing,” Jon told her. “But you are so much more than that. You are pig headed and willful to a fault.”
“Am not.”
“Uh huh,” Jon chuckled. It was Jenny’s willful nature that Jon admired most. She was kind, but firm. Honest and caring. But she never hesitated to give anyone a piece of her mind if she felt they were deserving of it. And she did not care what people thought of her opinions, either. She was as close to being a best friend that Jon had, even if she was a thousand miles away.
“Ok, so maybe I am, but you love me,” she retorted.
“Yeah, I do, but that is so beside the point.” Jon heard the banging of cabinet doors and the ticking of the coffee pot.
“So what’s this business you woke me up on a Saturday morning for?” she asked sweetly.
“I think I got a book for you. I know it isn’t what you usually deal with, but I think it has real potential.” Jenny usually represented authors who wrote steamy romance novels. And, she was good at it. Jon could think of at least four authors off the top of his head that Jenny represented that were best sellers.
“So, tell me about it,” she urged him.
“Well, I don’t think it’s finished, and I don’t exactly have the author’s permission. But Jenny, I swear, what I have read so far is fantastic.” He told her how he had worked all night typing it up, and how he was loath to put it down.
“Wait, why are you typing it? And what is it about?” she asked.
“It’s a true story. Written by the woman who experienced it. I can’t tell you her name yet, not without her ok, because I promised and she’s a client of mine.”
“Ooh, what did she do?” Jenny asked, eager for some gossip.
“You know I can’t betray my confidentiality oath, Jenny. But I can tell you that she killed a man. Plead guilty and is currently in prison for her crimes. That’s why I am typing it for her. She’s been writing with pen and paper in some journals that I gave her. I’m telling you, it’s really good.”
“Well, if it was good enough to keep you up all night, then I will look at it. But I can’t promise you anything, Jon, you know I don’t do non-fiction.”
“I know. But this woman’s got real talent, Jenny. Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought it up. I don’t know if she ever intends to share her story or not, but I think the world ought to know about it.”
“You feel that strongly, huh?” she asked lightly.
“Yeah, I do,” he said.
“About the book or about the girl?” she teased.
“Both,” he admitted.
“Look,” Jenny said, “you be careful, Jon. I don’t know about you getting involved with a murderer.”
“There were,” Jon paused, trying to decide on the right words to use, “Extenuating circumstances. I can’t say anymore without talking to her about it first.”
“I trust your judgment,” Jenny admitted, which was amazing. Jenny didn’t really trust anyone, so Jon felt gifted with her trust. “Get some sleep, go back and talk to her. When you get her permission, send me a chapter or two. And I want some details, damn it. Next time you wake me up, it had better be with either some juicy gossip or at least phone sex.”
Jon smiled. “Alright,” he promised. They signed off and Jon headed for his bed. He laid in it for some time, though, before sleep finally found him. His phone rang a couple of times, but he was too tired to drag himself from the bed to answer it. He slept the day away in a deep, dreamless sleep.
FOUR
Sarah was furiously scribbling in her new journal when her cell door slammed open. The sharp noise startled her so badly that she dropped the pen and leapt off her bunk. The guard that was standing there regarded her with a look of surprise. Realizing what she must look like, standing with her feet braced apart, her arms drawn into her side, Sarah immediately relaxed. The last thing she wanted was to appear violent. Even the threat of attacking a guard would land her in solitary confinement. Though Sarah liked to think she enjoyed being alone, she had no inclination to be moved to the solitary cells. Unlike her current cell, those were even smaller, only a bunk and a toilet. There may or may not even be a mat on the bunk. She would not be allowed her books or her journals. She would not be allowed out for meals or exercise. Not that she indulged in activity outside as it was, but she did like the fresh air.
“I’m sorry, you startled me,” Sarah said after a long uncomfortable pause. The guard knew Sarah well, and nodded his head.
“Your new roommate is here,” he said. He stepped into her cell and motioned to the extra bunk the guards brought in earlier that morning. A tall, Amazonian woman walked in behind him and sat on the bunk. Sarah barely gave her a cursory glance. “Sarah,” he said, “This is Michelle. She will be with us for a while.”
The woman named Michelle smirked at him. She raised her cuffed wrists in the air and waited. With a sardonic smile, the guard unlocked the hand cuffs and freed the woman’s wrists. “Play nice, girls,” he said as he left the small cell, closing the door behind him.
Sarah sat back on her bunk and picked up her journal. She had been on a role! Now she would have to reread what she had already written to get back into her groove.
“So, as he said my name’s Michelle. You are Sarah, right?” the new girl asked. Sarah nodded but made no verbal reply. “So, is this place as good as they say it is? I mean, I heard they treat the prisoners real nice here,” she continued. Did she not understand that Sarah did not want to talk? She did not want to discuss the prison, she didn’t want a friend, and she didn’t want a roommate. All Sarah could think was how the woman hadn’t shut up since the door closed. In fact, while Sarah was thinking about how bad things had suddenly become, she realized that the girl had been talking to her. Sarah had no idea what she said. Nor did she care.
JUSTIFIED Page 3