Nightwatch

by Valerie Hansen

“No. I didn’t see any reason to ask Samantha to see about getting permission until we’d decided. I imagine she’s encountered this problem before in her work with CASA so she’ll know what’s legal and what isn’t.” Thoughts of upholding the law immediately reminded her of Megan.

  Blinking rapidly, Jill averted her face. If, Heaven forbid, Megan didn’t live through her current ordeal, what would Tim and Paul do; what would they think? Perhaps Mitch was right. Perhaps it was best to leave them out of the actual service and take them to the cemetery later to visit their parents’ graves if they seemed to need more closure.

  She thought she’d managed to hide her emotional reaction until Mitch laid aside the dish towel and touched her shoulder. She didn’t want to turn to face him. Didn’t want him to see her misty eyes. Didn’t want to admit how upset she still was over a crisis she should have turned over to God long ago. Either she trusted her heavenly Father or she didn’t. It should be as simple as that. Only it wasn’t.

  “Look,” Mitch said quietly, tenderly. “Try to put yourself in my place. I can’t do anything more for Rob except protect his kids. We’ve both been trying to do that. And in spite of all our best efforts, we haven’t been totally successful.”

  “You don’t have to remind me.”

  “I think I do,” Mitch said. “This isn’t a simple problem. We have to not only handle today’s decisions, we have to assume there will be others in the near future that are just as difficult. Maybe more so.”

  Jill knew exactly what Mitch meant without him having to spell it out. He was thinking of Megan, too. And he was trying to say that he feared the worst.

  Tears began to slip over her lashes and slide down her cheeks. She swiped at them with the back of her wrist until Mitch handed her a paper towel and she was able to cover her face, to mask the sorrow she knew he was sharing.

  Suddenly, from the other room, a child’s high-pitched voice echoed. “Megan!”

  Jill and Mitch stared at each other.

  “Megan?” Jill’s jaw gaped.

  Mitch sprang into action more quickly than she did but they reached the boys only moments apart. The television program had been interrupted for a news bulletin. Megan’s picture was on the screen. It had been cropped from a family shot that Thad had provided so it was grainy and indistinct but Tim had recognized his sister immediately.

  He pointed and jumped up and down. “Look! It’s Megan.”

  Jill’s reddened eyes met Mitch’s and she saw her own pain reflected in his gaze. Turning away and blotting her tears with the paper towel, she took the coward’s way out and fled back to the kitchen. Would this waking nightmare never end? Was it possible that no one would locate Megan, that she had vanished forever?

  That thought settled in Jill’s heart and made her ache all over. She gripped the tiled edge of the sink and leaned against it for balance. “Please Jesus,” she prayed. “Please? Give us something. Anything.”

  Logic kept insisting that her efforts were futile while her faith did battle with doubt. She did believe in God, in Jesus. Really, she did. It was just so hard to accept those things for which she had no earthly answers.

  Eyes tightly closed, heart racing, Jill was out of words, out of wishes, out of imagined, fairy-tale outcomes.

  And now, unable to reason her way through this dilemma, she did what she’d truly wanted to do all along. She gave in and turned herself, her life and her currently needy loved ones over to the Lord’s mercy and care.

  By the following weekend Mitch was satisfied that his concerns about the upcoming funeral had been addressed. Jill had spoken with Brother Malloy and the wise pastor had visited her home to counsel the children. Apparently, that had satisfied Jill because she was no longer insisting that the boys had to attend the interment when it was eventually scheduled.

  Regular Sunday school attendance, however, was another matter. One they could agree upon.

  “I’ll need to go home and pick up another change of clothes for tomorrow,” Mitch had said Saturday evening.

  Jill’s expression had told him she wasn’t thrilled to have him leave at all and that conclusion had warmed his heart. “I won’t be long.” Grinning, he’d gestured at his boots and jeans. “I know the folks at Serenity Chapel accept everybody, no matter how they’re dressed, but I prefer to wear my best to church.”

  “Of course. I do, too.”

  “You look good in whatever you wear,” Mitch had said honestly, enjoying the flush of her cheeks his compliment had produced.

  “Thanks.” She’d taken a step closer then and he’d wondered if she was going to give him the customary, Southern-hospitality, parting hug.

  When she stopped short of putting her arms around him Mitch had waved to the boys and hurried to complete his errand. He’d been home several times since he’d started spending every free moment at Jill’s but there were still a few things he needed to take care of, such as picking up his mail and making sure his apartment was secure.

  On Sunday morning it took both Mitch and Jill to get the boys ready. Tim kept insisting he wanted to wear his new superhero shirt and whatever Tim wanted, Paul did, too. The compromise had been to allow the children to don their special shirts underneath their plain ones.

  They escorted the kids back to their respective Sunday school classes, where their friends and teachers greeted them warmly. Because neither boy had wanted to be parted from his guardians, Jill stayed with Paul and Mitch with Tim.

  They met up as soon as the classes were dismissed. Mitch couldn’t help grinning the moment he spotted Jill. “Well, did you have fun coloring Noah’s ark?” he asked. “We did. We even added drawings of Salt and Pepper to the other animals.”

  “Good for you. Every shepherd needs dogs like mine.”

  “That’s what Tim said.” Mitch felt the child take his hand. The gesture of complete trust warmed his heart every time it happened.

  Jill was carrying Paul on one hip.

  “Don’t you think he’s big enough to walk?” Mitch teased as they entered the sanctuary together for the worship service. He followed her down an outside aisle, greeting fellow worshipers and wishing them good morning as he passed.

  “Only if I want to go everywhere at a snail’s pace,” Jill replied. “This kid is the exact opposite of Mugsy. Getting him to hurry is impossible.”

  “Okay. Give him to me.” To his surprise, Paul tightened his hold on Jill’s neck and buried his face against her shoulder.

  “I think he’s adopted me,” she said, smiling and placing a tiny kiss on the top of the child’s head.

  Mitch knew her well enough to tell that the boy’s newfound attachment was touching her deeply. She was not only holding him, she was also patting his back and speaking to him in a private whisper.

  Entering an empty pew, Jill placed Paul on the bench next to her while Mitch directed Tim to join his brother. Taking the last place on the aisle, Mitch looked over at his companions. Although Jill was as pretty as ever, he couldn’t help noticing another aspect of her character that impressed him greatly. In the space of a little more than a week she had become a mother to those boys as surely as if they had been born to her.

  So what did that make him? Mitch wondered. Was he still playing the role of the kindly uncle as Rob had always implied? Or was he beginning to view the boys the way he might his own sons, assuming he ever had any?

  That was an easy question to answer. It also made him decidedly uneasy. To anyone who didn’t know their situation, he and Jill would appear to be a nice, normal couple raising two well-behaved children. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet they were far from it. They were merely temporary caregivers, and he wasn’t even officially that. So why was it so effortless for him to imagine them as a true family? And what in the world was he going to do about it?

  Nothing, Mitch decided firmly. No matter what he wanted for himself, no matter how much he cared for Jill and those orphans, this was not the right time to speak his mind and open his heart.
>
  He knew without a single doubt that his duty was to see this ordeal through to its end, no matter how its outcome personally affected him; no matter how much it cost him to play a part for the sake of others.

  Then Jill looked up and smiled directly at him, and all his rational convictions vanished in a heartbeat.

  Although Mitch had to return to work on Monday, the following few days sped by for Jill. She was thankful that she had insisted on one new outfit for each boy that was suitable for church because those same clothes were perfect for court appearances, such as the one they were about to participate in, thanks to Natalie’s ridiculous custody demands.

  The brick-and-stone courthouse at the center of the town square was relatively quiet as Jill, the two orphans and the CASA volunteer climbed the stairs to the second-floor courtroom.

  Sniffing, Jill wrinkled her nose. The place smelled like disinfectant and mildew, which was probably an improvement over the decidedly unpleasant aromas the hundred-plus-year-old building might have given off if no one had tried to clean and freshen it.

  She paused in the anteroom and crouched to make sure both children were neat. Tim looked pretty good but Paul was sniffling so she took a tissue from her purse and wiped his nose.

  “There. Ready?”

  Shorter, dark-haired Samantha Rochard gave Jill a sisterly pat on the back. “Relax. They look great. Everything will be fine.” She lifted her slim briefcase for emphasis. “I told you what I was putting in my report.”

  “I know.” Jill straightened and smoothed her sweater over the waist of her matching slacks. “I just keep remembering what this kind of thing was like when I was a kid. I never knew what was going to happen. One day I’d be settling into a nice, comfortable rut and the next I’d be packing my bags for another change, another move.”

  “That’s too bad. The CASA program existed back then but it didn’t go national until Congress passed a victim’s rights law in 1990. Even after that it took a while to develop the kind of widespread coverage we have now.”

  “I sure wish I’d had somebody like you to speak for me,” Jill said. “By the time I’d been in the system for several years I’d given up having anyone listen to my opinion.” She began to smile wistfully. “I believe more than one judge referred to me as ‘sullen.’” The smile broadened. “Can’t imagine why.”

  “Probably because you’d surrendered. That’s what I see all too often with the kids I represent. When they decide they can’t win, they just quit trying. It’s a form of self-preservation. Perfectly normal.”

  “The word normal has never described my life,” Jill said with a chuckle. She was nervous about the hearing and exchanging silly banter helped keep her from dwelling on the looming ordeal.

  It would have helped if Mitch could have been there too, but he’d been unable to prearrange more time off work, much to the Pearson boys’ chagrin. Tim, especially, had been upset over the idea of probably having to make do without his real-life hero.

  Jill had wondered if the boy was going to spoil things by acting up in front of the judge—until Mitch had taken him aside before leaving for work and had a heart-to-heart.

  After that, although Tim had still not seemed happy, he had at least cooperated. And, given his influence with Paul, the younger brother was also on good behavior.

  Samantha gestured toward the door framed by a metal detector, then grinned at Jill and the boys. “Everybody ready?”

  “I hope so.” Jill held out her hands and was thankful when each child grasped one. She stood tall and lifted her chin. “Let’s go.”

  Instead of moving forward, Paul tugged on her hand. When she glanced down she noted his pained expression. “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “I hafta go.”

  Samantha chuckled. “Better take them both to the bathroom. I’ll wait right here.”

  Jill thought she was hurrying but by the time she returned, Samantha was pacing and glancing at her watch.

  “Are we late?”

  “Not very. Come on. We don’t want the judge to get upset.”

  Entering the small courtroom gave Jill a sense of déjà vu that made her shiver, made her stomach do flips and brought the taste of bile to her throat. Nevertheless, she persevered. This was no time to think of herself. These children were depending upon her for support. She wasn’t going to disappoint them.

  Natalie Stevens and a skinny, big-eared man in a gray suit sat at a long, rectangular table to the right. Behind them, in the rows of chairs that made up the gallery, Thad Pearson and several other townspeople were observing. Jill surmised that at least one of the women in the group was a newspaper reporter because of the camera hanging from a strap around her neck.

  Trying to ignore everything else, Jill followed Samantha to a table opposite Natalie’s. Pasting a smile on her face she nodded at the taciturn-looking judge as she helped the boys climb into the adult-size chairs. This time the judge was wearing the black robes of his office and they made him seem far less amiable than he had when she’d seen him in his office.

  Samantha apologized for their slight tardiness, explained the reason and pointed out that a copy of her latest report was already in the judge’s hands.

  Jill sat down and began to pray, hardly hearing anything else that was being said. To her surprise and delight the hearing was completed in mere minutes.

  While Natalie berated her attorney, Jill reached for Samantha’s hand. “Thank you, thank you,” she said, blinking back unshed tears. “I had no idea it would be so easy.”

  “It was this time. Each session is different.” The CASA volunteer patted Jill’s hand. “At least we won’t be back for a while.”

  Puzzled, Jill frowned. “We won’t?”

  That question made Samantha chuckle. “You really do get freaked out in courtrooms, don’t you? Natalie was just ordered to stop bringing frivolous suits. We won’t be bothered again for at least three months. Maybe longer.”

  “I can’t believe I missed that!”

  “Neither can I,” Samantha said, patting her on the back, then gathering up her paperwork and shoving it back into the briefcase. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before somebody notices that your mind is in another world this morning and starts to question your sanity, too.”

  “Is that what won? Did you prove that Natalie was unstable?”

  “Among other things.” Samantha had been smiling. Now she sobered. “The decision was also based upon the chance that the other children may be in danger. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Jill was nodding slowly and holding each boy by the hand as before. “I understand that all too well.”

  Just then, a bright flash blinded her. The young woman with the camera had edged closer while their guard was down and had just photographed the Pearson boys.

  Samantha shouted, “No!”

  Jill stepped in front of the children to shield them from another attempt. She needn’t have worried. Before the reporter had a chance to try for a second picture Thad had grabbed her camera and was holding it out of reach while punching buttons on the back.

  “Hey! You can’t do that,” the reporter shouted.

  Thad didn’t say a word. Jill watched him finally hand the camera back to the irate woman.

  He didn’t smile at anyone, but Jill imagined a kindred soul. She sure hoped so. She and Mitch could use all the help they could get keeping these boys safe.

  FOURTEEN

  Mitch was stuck on duty at the fire station, as he’d feared, while the hearing was in progress. The county courthouse was located a short half block away but he couldn’t leave on personal business without the chief’s express permission and, unfortunately, Jim Longstreet’s arrival that morning had been delayed.

  Mitch was pacing the sidewalk in front of the station and shading his eyes to look toward the court square when he spotted Jill and the boys.

  He waved, excited to see her and hoping that the spring in her step meant a posi
tive outcome.

  Tim and Paul returned his distant greeting while Jill continued to hold each child by the hand.

  Mitch totally understood why she didn’t want to let go. If he’d had his way he’d have kept both those kids—and Jill—on a very short leash, figuratively speaking, of course.

  As soon as they were closer, he jogged up to greet them. One look at the elation on Jill’s face told him all was well. “You won?”

  “We all won,” she said. “Especially the boys. They get to stay with me. Samantha says the judge told Natalie to stop wasting the court’s time.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Mitch said. “I think we should celebrate. I wish I could leave my post and take you all to lunch.”

  “We can send out for enough pizza for everybody, including the other firefighters, and celebrate that way,” Jill suggested, glancing warily over her shoulder. “A pesky reporter has been trying to take pictures of us so we’re better off staying inside, out of sight. Besides, Tim and Paul want to look at the fire engines and I promised them they could.”

  Sweeping his arm in a wide arc, Mitch invited them in. “By all means. We love to show off the equipment. I have several elementary school visits scheduled for next month. Have to get them in before the end of the term.”

  “Which reminds me,” Jill said as she led her charges through the open bay doors toward the enormous red, white and chrome engines. “What do you think about putting the boys back in class? The judge recommended it and Samantha agrees.”

  His gut twisted. “I don’t know. It seems kind of risky.”

  “We don’t want them to fall behind a grade because they miss their end-of-year testing. Suppose I took them to school and picked them up afterwards, myself, instead of letting them ride the bus? That should be safe enough.”

  “Maybe.”

  Mitch took a few minutes to think over the situation while he showed the boys some interesting aspects of the closest engine and let them stand on the wide rear bumper.

  Finally, he lifted them down and crouched to put himself on their level. “Some firemen used to ride back here just like that on the way to fires, but it was really dangerous. Now, we sit up in the cab with the engineer.”