“I love you, Nanny.”
Chapter 20
Jonathon
I took the steps two at a time as I hurried to the front door of the courthouse. I had been looking for her for the better part of the morning but I had come up empty. I thought for a minute that I had actually been looking for her for the better part of my life and I had fucked that up too. And then I saw my father waiting for me and I tried to put my game face on.
“You find her, son?”
“No, Pop. I think she probably took off.”
“I’m sorry, boy.”
I believed him.
“We need to go ahead and get inside. Court’s in session in ten minutes. And prepare yourself, son, it’s a circus in there.”
That was no surprise. This whole thing had been a circus, and I felt like I was part ringmaster and part dancing monkey. But I straightened my tweed jacket and took a deep breath and followed my old man into the courtroom.
And then I found out what a circus really was.
Both of our families were there. I knew that would be the case. Hawthornes on the left, McCallisters on the right.
Check.
But our families only accounted for half the people in the courtroom, maybe even less than that. It was packed wall to wall with people—some faces were familiar, some were not. Some were smiling and waving at me and some were scowling. And some were making gestures I didn’t even understand.
I saw my third grade teacher, Mrs. Mullen, waving at me from one side of the room. She was on the Hawthorne side, although she probably didn’t know it, and I worried about her as she beamed that bright smile of hers at me.
My old scoutmaster was there, standing next to Principal Douglas of Clark High. They were engrossed in conversation and they were annoying the lady who owned the Clark Florist who happened to be sitting right behind them.
There was a guy with a Madison County Gazette badge hanging on a chain around his neck. He was standing next to a tall guy with camera equipment hanging all over him.
Christ, the media. The fucking media is even here…
My eyes drifted to the Hawthorne side of the room. There weren’t many friendly faces over there looking back at me. I saw Aunt Millie, but as soon as my eyes touched hers she glanced away. The twins were sitting with her and refused to look at me, although I was sure that one of them shot me the middle finger. It was hostile, no doubt. But there was one person on that side of the room that wasn’t taking his eyes off me.
Olivia’s father was glaring daggers through me from his seat in the front. I couldn’t blame him. He had an empty seat next to him and I knew he was saving it for a girl who was probably half way back to New York by this point. He probably wanted to strangle me and part of me thought I would have been better off if he did.
Sorry about that, Mr. Hawthorne. I think you probably would have made an OK father-in-law too. God knows I would have tried to be a good son-in-law…
I felt a tug on my tweed jacket and I turned to look at my dad.
“It’s time, boy. Let’s have a seat. Court will be starting in a minute.”
I followed my father to the two empty seats in the front on the right hand side of the room. It was just us and Mr. Hawthorne and his empty seat on the left hand side of the front row. We had both burned through our resources and barely had a dime left to spare. The dinner at Huddy’s had just about wiped us out. There would be no lawyers. There would be no settlement. We were just two families ready to meet the cold, hard hand of Madison County justice.
The clock above the bench in front of us ticked to nine o’clock and the door on the right hand side of the room opened. Four big men with badges and side arms came walking into the room like a line of Stormtroopers. Deputy Ratcliff was the only familiar face, bringing up the rear with his beard and his shotgun.
They weren’t taking any chances, and the message was clear. These guys were going to keep things from getting out of hand. I didn’t recognize a single face other than that of Deputy Ratcliff, and I was certain the other guys were probably paid muscle. Which I knew also probably meant they were going to be tacked onto the bill my father and I would be forced to pay.
“Please rise.”
It was the smaller deputy. The guy with the cooler head who had been at our arbitration hearings. He assumed his spot in front of the judge’s bench and was calling the court to order. There was still some bustling among the crowd. Some people were still jockeying for positions with a good vantage point as other people started to stand. The deputy looked slightly miffed, but paused a second before making his final announcement.
“The honorable Judge Rafferty is presiding.”
The deputy’s voice carried over the courtroom and what little murmuring there was immediately ceased. I had heard about Judge Rafferty. Every person in the twin counties had heard about Judge Rafferty. And not a person in that room was making a peep as he walked through the door.
He was a behemoth of a man. Local legend was he worked his way through law school slinging bags of barley with a friend of his in the fifties. Supposedly his friend was even bigger than he was and now occupied a spot on the state legislature somewhere. Rafferty went on to be the law of the land in the twin counties. I didn’t know how much of it was true and how much of it was folklore. But I knew one thing for sure. He was the face of law and order in Madison County, and right now that wasn’t a friendly face.
He looked pissed.
He ambled to the big seat behind his bench like an angry walrus. He paused and looked out at the courtroom and I was glad I didn’t have a pin to drop because I knew it would have sounded like a rusty hubcap in that quiet courtroom. He tugged at the white beard covering his jowls and I knew he was scowling underneath all that beard hair. I watched him as he hoisted his bulk into his chair and everyone else in the courtroom sat down.
Rafferty grabbed his court docket and looked up at the courtroom. He looked like Zeus sitting up there, if Zeus had a big, thorny stick up his ass. He put the docket back on his desk and sat back in his chair and pushed his spectacles up his nose. With little fanfare, he then opened his mouth to address his courtroom.
“In the matter of Hawthorne vs. McCallister.”
He paused. I don’t know if he did if for dramatic effect, but the effect was dramatic nonetheless. His voice sounded like gravel and thunder.
“This is a matter I would have preferred to be settled outside this courtroom. It is my understanding that there is a great deal of emotional baggage surrounding this situation, and this courtroom is not a place for dramatics. This place commands a certain decorum. I want it to be understood right now that there will not be any eruptions in my courtroom.”
I was waiting for him to slam his fist or reach for his big wooden gavel, but he didn’t do either. He didn’t need to because his voice was doing it for him.
“Furthermore, I would have preferred that this matter was settled outside of this courtroom because it is a matter that will cost money to settle. Money that this county is ill-equipped to afford. I would have hoped that a sense of community would have prevailed and this situation could have been settled amicably. As everyone here is aware, the local farming industry has been under financial duress, and legal wranglings like this only exacerbate those circumstances.”
Point taken. The town didn’t have much money. He didn’t need to keep going because I knew what was coming next. But his voice was rising in intensity and it was obvious he wasn’t finished.
“Be advised that I fully intend to pass on the cost of these proceeding to the complainants. Because every effort was made by this court to settle this matter in arbitration, it will fall upon the Hawhtorne and McCallister families to pay restitution to this court for these proceedings.”
Translation: Jonathon is never working his way out of Madison County and will die an indentured wheat farmer. Got it, judge, thanks.
The judge seemed satisfied with himself now that he had effectively ruined the
rest of my life. He picked up the papers in front of him and pushed down his spectacles for one last perusal of his documents. I figured he was probably looking at the guidelines for sending an entire family to the gallows. Or maybe the stockade. I wasn’t sure what a stockade was exactly but it wasn’t sounding too bad to me now.
The judge’s eyes looked up from his papers. He was looking over top of his spectacles through the courtroom and the courtroom fell silent. But he wasn’t looking at anyone in the courtroom. He was looking through the swinging doors at the back of the courtroom. He was looking at the animated figure that was about to burst her way through.
Olivia pushed her way through the doors and made her way up the aisle, her mane of dark hair seeming to have trouble keeping up. There were a couple of muted gasps from the crowd and even the stupid rent-a-cops stood there looking at her dumbly as she pushed her way through the gate to the front row. Rafferty looked as shocked as anyone, but he wasn’t having any of it, and he was opening his mouth to speak.
“Young lady, you can’t just come bursting into my courtroom…”
“Hold on a second, judge. I can settle this. I can settle this thing right now.”
She had her hand up and was showing the judge her right palm. I was certain it was the first time in twenty-five years he had been hushed in his own courtroom, but he remained quiet for the moment. There was a split second in the room where the only sound was the frantic scrawling from the Madison County Gazette guy in the back. And then Olivia turned to look at our two fathers.
“You two, come here.”
She merely pointed at my father, who obediently walked towards her. Mr. Hawthorne wasn’t so lucky. His daughter grabbed him by a suspender strap and hauled him to the table in the center of the courtroom. She reached in her purse and pulled out the rumpled piece of paper that I knew all too well as the Legalbanana document.
“I know of a way out of this financial mess. If my idea works, you two will never have to work another day in your lives. But you have to stop behaving like a couple of stubborn eight-year-old children in order for me to set it up for you. You both need to sign this document today and this whole thing is over with.”
Silence in the courtroom. The paper guy had stopped scrawling. Judge Rafferty was leaning forward on his powerful forearms, looking suddenly curious.
“Princess, I don’t understand…”
“Stop.”
Now it was her father getting the hand. And he stopped.
“No questions. You two need to sign now and settle this. It’s the right thing to do—for you and the town. And I guarantee neither of you will have to work another day in your life.”
I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, and neither did either father. But her argument was convincing in light of the doomsday scenario that Judge Rafferty had just been painting. Her father looked like he was almost ready to ask another question and Olivia was shoving a pen in his face.
Not the gold pen this time. A Bic. Nicely played, Olivia.
Olivia’s father made a show of being reluctant because it was the last thing he could do to save some dignity. But he put the pen to paper and scratched out his signature on the second page of the wrinkled document. She took the pen and offered it to my father, who looked less interested in putting on a show of reluctance. He signed the document. He signed it because he wanted to know what her idea was. As did I.
As did everyone else in the courtroom.
But she wasn’t ready to disclose that just yet. She walked to the judge’s bench and showed him the signed document and then she turned and pointed at me.
“Jonathon, come up here.”
She wasn’t really asking me, it was more of an order. And she didn’t need to order me anyway, because next to her was where I wanted to be. I walked past our two confused fathers to where she stood at the judge’s bench.
“You’re going to marry us judge, right here, right now. We’re going to settle this today too.”
The judge had looked interested until that point, but he shook his head after she had finished speaking to him.
“Young lady, you can’t just walk in here and ask to be married. There are things you need. You need to have a marriage certificate…”
She reached in her purse and pulled out another document. This one was pristine. I could see it had the county insignia clearly printed on it. She cut Rafferty off from his reprimand by waving it in his face.
“I’m sorry I was late, your honor. I came as fast as I could. I just needed to print out a copy of the marriage license online.”
She turned to me and mouthed the word ‘Legalbanana.’
“I checked, Judge, and it’s legal as long as we both sign it in front of you, and then you can perform the marriage.”
The judge didn’t speak, and his silence was affirmation that she was probably right. Of course she was right. She was as smart as she was beautiful, and if we had gone to war in the courtroom my father and I probably would have gotten eviscerated by her.
“Well, yes, I suppose it is, young lady but…”
Again the judge got the palm of her hand and this time he looked annoyed—at least for the moment. But then Olivia took a knee in front of me, and the judge’s hard look softened.
“Jonathon, I’m sorry. You were right. I love you too. I realized yesterday I had everything I needed if I stayed right here with you. By going to New York I was running away from everything that I wanted to find in the first place. I love you. I want to get married. I want to get married and stay right here in Madison County.”
I heard an ‘Aw’ from the crowd and without even looking. I knew it had come from Aunt Millie. Judge Rafferty was now watching me over his spectacles with the marriage certificate from Legalbanana grasped in his hand. I heard the scratching from the Madison County Gazette reporter stop but it was replaced from the incessant clicking from the photographer standing next to him. But all the noise meant nothing to me. The only thing in the world that mattered to me was the woman kneeling in front of me.
I pulled her off her knees and kissed her. I think I said yes but the courtroom was a ruckus of cheers and I don’t think she would have heard me anyway. So I kissed her again. And again. And before Judge Rafferty could pound his big gavel I kissed her a little more.
Epilogue
Olivia
5 years later…
“I need your signature on a few things, Olivia.”
I had already been working on a few things, but I lifted my head from my desk to look at my brother. He was wearing one of our button up shirts with the company logo on it. It was Friday so he was not wearing a tie and the first two buttons were undone, a nod to the casual Friday lifestyle. Downstairs in the main office I knew most the other employees were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shorts.
“I like the relaxed look for you, Zack. You’ve come a long way from the Nirvana t-shirts.”
He ignored the compliment and didn’t take the bait. He was far more serious now that he was officially a senior vice president. Although when he was in my office, he was still my stupid kid brother.
“I just need your signature, Liv, I could do without the chatter. I have a two o’clock call with the realtor over in Livingston. There’s a piece of property over there I think is worth taking a look at.”
All work and no play.
I signed the checks he had handed me. He was a senior vice president and he was my brother, which meant that he could have signed them himself, but it was his way of passing things in front of me first. I glanced at the payee line and I glanced at the amounts and everything looked kosher. My eyes only lingered on the logo in the corner, which was the same as the logo on the shirt he was wearing. And I still liked it.
CCC
Jonathon had wanted to go straight with ‘Clark Cannabis Company’ five years ago when we started the company, but I thought it was still a little too ‘in your face.’ Yes, marijuana was legal in Colorado, but I thought that discre
tion was the better part of valor, and in the end he had agreed. And now CCC was the largest private marijuana cultivator in the state.
Zack took the signed checks from my hand and hurried out of my office to go get on his conference call. I stood from my desk to stretch my back and walked to the wall opposite my desk. I used to envision myself having an office like this with an MBA degree hanging on the wall, but I realized a couple of years ago I was never going to need that now. Instead I had pictures of our wedding, which happened to be taken by the Gazette photographer in Judge Rafferty’s courtroom.
I knew the whole marijuana farmer idea thing was a long shot when I came up with it, and I never anticipated some of the legal problems we would encounter along the way. Just because pot was legal in the state didn’t mean any just anyone could grow it. There were licenses and certifications and laws that I had never even considered. But I found an unlikely ally, a man that would help all that go away.
I looked at the photo of Judge Rafferty on the wall. The man looked fearsome in that judge’s robe of his, there was no doubt. And he meted out judgment in that courtroom with the authority of a steel fist. But underneath the beard and the bravado the man had a heart of gold. And he also had a soft spot in his heart for a local girl that could potentially bring a boon of business into his starving little town.
He had helped with most of the legal hurdles early on. If it wasn’t for him and the good folks at Legalbanana, Jonathon and I probably would have gotten stonewalled in the first sixteen months. We had run into one or two legal snafus that were bigger than a county judge could handle, but he apparently had a powerful friend on the state legislature that made that all go away. At the end of it all, we had a ten million dollar a year business and a hundred local employees and it looked like things were only going to get bigger.
Dirty Neighbor Page 12