Drake hesitated, and she knew he was giving her that chance.
But she said nothing.
He nodded a short good-bye, then walked away toward his kayak behind the bench where they had sat. Cara turned the key in the ignition, anxious to escape the place and the man who offered such sweet yet dangerous temptations.
2
Monday morning’s docket promised to be long and tedious, but that was just another day as the Craig County District Court Judge. Cara had been on the bench for a few years, and as much as she loved wearing the robe, the work was getting dull: DUIs, paternity cases, small claims, probate.
She’d been shocked when she’d gotten the appointment to the district court bench, bypassing an older attorney in Littleham, which was part of her judicial district along with Bourbon Springs. Cara wasn’t originally from the area but from Danville, about thirty miles to the southeast. Todd, her late husband, had been a well-known Bourbon Springs native and real estate agent with connections to the governor’s office. She had realized long ago that her qualifications hadn’t put her on the bench; it had been Todd’s skill in pulling political strings. Nonetheless, she had been accepted as the district judge, and she had not heard any rumors about someone running against her for the bench.
She chalked up this lack of interest in her seat to her widowhood. No one wanted to run against a young widow with a child. Bad campaign optics. Even though Todd had left her with sufficient funds so she wouldn’t have to work, Cara found a calling and solace in the law. She was therefore pleased to have a small degree of job security.
Yet she wanted more.
Her problem was that upward mobility in the judicial aspirations department was nonexistent.
Rachel Richards and Brady Craft sat on the two circuit court judgeships, which were above the district court level. She’d toyed with running against one of them but finally realized that to file against one was to file against both. The married judges were beloved in Craig County. Also, she happened to like them. To run against either of them would be hard for her personally as well as professionally.
Her new assistant, Brinna, appeared at her office door.
“Just checking up on you,” she said, her happy face in contrast to the gloomy weather outside.
A summer storm swirled around the courthouse, with rain hitting the windows in sheets. The weather would likely make people late to court, and the docket would go longer than usual. Cara hated it when that happened, because she often went home at lunch to give her mother a break and to see Nate.
“I’m good,” Cara said. “Looks like we have a nasty day and a nasty docket.”
“That’s guaranteed. I’ve already had a few attorneys call to report they’ll be late.”
“Let me guess,” Cara said, pulling the blinds up to get a good look at the storm outside. “Bruce Colyard has a probate motion as I recall. He’ll be late. Any little thing will slow him down even though he’s only a block away.”
“Yep, he called. Any other guesses?”
Cara picked up the docket from her desk.
“Probably any attorney from out of town, of course. Cord Bilton?” she asked, knowing that the drive from Littleham in bad weather was no fun. As a district judge covering both Craig and Van Winkle Counties, Cara had made the trip between the courthouses countless times. Any bit of bad weather made that trip difficult. The road did tend to flood in the lower spots.
“Yes, but also Drake Mercer.”
“Drake? But his office is just behind the courthouse on the square.”
“Said he’d be late because he needed to go to the nature preserve and check on something that’s flooded.”
“Nature preserve?”
Brinna nodded. “Said he’s a volunteer out there, and they’re going to build a gazebo or something at the confluence. The lumber was just delivered yesterday, and they have to move it in case the water rises too much.”
“So he’s not going to be here?”
“Said he wasn’t sure,” Brinna reported and left.
Cara wasn’t surprised to learn that Drake was a volunteer at the state nature preserve, which had recently been formally named the Lawson State Nature Preserve in honor of a deceased local lawmaker who had successfully fought years ago to get the state to purchase the land. Drake obviously loved being outdoors, and the preserve was one of the best places in the area for opportunities to commune with nature.
The docket went a little quicker than she’d anticipated because of several attorneys’ absences, including Drake’s. Every time her eyes fell on his name, she felt a little twitch of anticipation shortly followed by irritation. She was disappointed that she wasn’t going to see him—then irked by such a personal reaction.
If she couldn’t put aside her personal feelings for him, she would have to recuse herself from his cases.
And if she had to do that, why not just go ahead and date the guy?
Because the idea that a man might get close to her son, only for her to break up with him and break her son’s heart, was not a risk worth taking on the best of days.
Because she couldn’t imagine feeling the loss of love again.
Because the thought of being betrayed again scared her shitless.
After hanging up her robe, Cara realized it was nearly time for lunch with Madam Clerk. Since Cara had gotten on the bench, CiCi Summers had made it her business to insist on the two of them going to lunch together at least once a month. As a result, CiCi was the friend to whom she felt closest.
And as the biggest gossip in Craig County, CiCi could always be counted on to be a very fun date.
“Do you mind if Harriet joins us today?” CiCi asked as they met in the hallway outside the clerk’s office.
“Not at all,” Cara said. “Been a while since we’ve talked. I’d love to catch up.”
Cara and Harriet had started practicing in Bourbon Springs at about the same time and had gotten to know each other over the years. But Harriet was rarely around the courthouse since she’d become the attorney for the Craig County School Board.
CiCi and Cara headed across the street to their usual spot, Over a Barrel, and ordered for themselves as well as Harriet. As they found a table near the front windows of the crowded deli, Harriet arrived and the group got down to the extremely important business of eating.
The meal began with general job-and-family chatter, morphing into gossip, but with Harriet actually being the bearing of juicy news instead of CiCi.
She had learned that Clay London, a young, well-known attorney from a prominent political family, had caught his wife cheating and had filed for divorce. It was apparently quite the talk all over Louisville since Clay was a formidable behind-the-scenes political force in state politics.
But after that tale was told, Harriet gave CiCi a look that indicated some kind of signal between the two.
“Have you heard that Judge O’Toole is retiring?” CiCi asked.
Amos O’Toole was one of two state Court of Appeals judges from the district that contained Craig County, along with about forty other counties. Hailing from Littleham, Judge O’Toole was the longest-serving member of the Kentucky Court of Appeals, and rumors of his imminent retirement were as common as a rainy day in spring.
“He’s grumbled about retiring for years. Has he really made it official this time?” Cara asked.
CiCi nodded. “He’s retiring effective October 1.”
“I wonder who will get that seat,” Cara said, wadding up a paper napkin.
“What about you?” Harriet asked.
“Me?” Cara asked, shocked at the suggestion. “But I’m just a district judge.”
“So?” countered CiCi. “You’re still qualified.”
“But I’ve heard so many other lawyers talking about wanting that judgeship whenever it did come open.”
“But what about other judges?” Harriet asked. “Heard any rumors about anyone on the bench now wanting the job?”
“Only Garn
er Robson in Frankfort,” Cara acknowledged. “But certainly no rumors of Brady or Rachel wanting to move up the judicial food chain.”
CiCi snorted. “They’ll never want to leave their judgeships. They love working with each other too much.”
“I think I’d go nuts if I had to work with Goose on a regular basis,” Harriet admitted. “I love him like crazy, but I’ve heard the stories Bo and Hannah tell about how enthusiastic he is on the job. And I’ve seen the damage he causes to himself when that enthusiasm goes too far.”
“Damage?” asked Cara.
Harriet rolled her eyes and sighed. “He’s accident-prone.” She launched into the story of Goose’s most recent mishap, a broken arm he’d suffered that spring after falling off a ladder at the distillery. “And they still won’t let him on the four-wheeler, which makes him so mad. I’m glad he’s banned from driving that thing, considering his nasty wreck a while back. But now he’s taken to the water. They’re talking about starting a new program with the nature preserve and The Cooperage for kayakers and canoers. I think the idea is that they start at the nature preserve, go down Old Crow Creek to The Cooperage for an outdoor snack or lunch, then stop at Old Garnet for special tours and tastings, maybe a meal. They’ll take them to the historic spots on the creek, like the island where the illegal still was and the reputed proposal spot.”
“Sounds like a great idea! When’s this supposed to start?” CiCi asked.
“I think they’re going to do trial runs in late summer and early fall to see if it works and gauge interest. They’ve made a few announcements at the Mack Blanton concerts asking for volunteer kayakers and canoers to test the route.”
“I haven’t gotten to the concerts this summer,” Cara said. “Managed to get to a few last year. I’ve heard that Mack is better than ever.”
CiCi and Harriet gushed over the local star, informing her that he’d been playing a number of new songs.
“All wonderful, gorgeous Bluegrass love songs,” sighed CiCi. “We tease Jorrie something fierce, but she won’t say whether the songs are about her.”
“You know they are,” Harriet said. “Those lyrics—a lot of them are about things around here, the land, the Knobs. All you have to do is listen to know that he’s singing about falling in love with her.”
CiCi and Harriet lapsed into a recitation of Jorrie and Mack’s wedding plans. The couple planned to exchange vows in a few weeks in a ceremony at the distillery on top of the bourbon flavor wheel in the visitors’ center lobby.
“When Mack asked us whether they could have the site for their wedding, Goose wasn’t happy about it since that’s where we married last year. That wheel is his baby. But Mack told him that he first met Jorrie at our wedding. When Hannah and Lila heard that, they immediately gave permission to use the site. Even Goose had to agree it was the perfect spot.”
“You really ought to get out to the concerts soon,” CiCi chided Cara. “There will be fewer this season because Jorrie and Mack are going on their honeymoon for a few weeks. Won’t your mom watch Nate if you wanted to get out?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Harried nodded. “They really are a lot of fun, and you can always get something to eat at the distillery café. Do you think Nate’s old enough to go?”
Cara shook her head. “No. I think the music would be too loud for him, and the prospect of him getting lost in the crowd is too frightening to think about.”
“But there would be lots of eyes to watch him,” CiCi said. “I wouldn’t mind helping.”
“Me too,” added Harriet, nodding.
“But Nate likes to run off. He bolts on me all the time. It’s a problem everywhere, even at home. I have to be careful that he doesn’t dash out the front door into the street. It’s like he sees a little glimpse of freedom and just runs after it.”
“Sounds like he’s a normal little kid,” CiCi said.
“He did it to me the other day,” Cara said. “We were out at the nature preserve on Saturday, and I made the mistake of taking him down to the creek. He saw a deer and ran after it, crossed the creek at that narrow point near the old bridge. I ran after him but lost him. Fortunately, Drake Mercer showed up with his kayak. I’m afraid we interrupted his plans for a nice leisurely Saturday along the creek.”
“That is terrifying,” Harriet said. “What happened?”
Cara told them about Drake finding Nate and helping the both of them back to the playground and how the sheriff and an ambulance showed up.
“I bet Drake was there to do another run down the creek to see how long it takes to get from the preserve to The Cooperage and then the distillery,” Harriet said.
“He’s involved in that project?” Cara asked.
“Drake’s been one of the main forces behind it,” Harriet said. “He asked Goose earlier this year for permission to go kayaking along Old Crow Creek through the distillery grounds. Goose went with him once—I have reports of Goose wiping out repeatedly in the water. They started talking and came up with the idea for the small tours. Goose asked Drake why more kayakers don’t go down Old Crow Creek, past the distillery, but Drake pointed out that in addition to the obstacle of the waterfall at the northern end of the grounds, the creek becomes very rocky and narrow just beyond the distillery, making further travel impractical. The best stretch of the creek was therefore from that old broken down bridge at the preserve to the waterfall.”
“Love that waterfall,” CiCi said to herself, smiling. “So pretty there.”
“Hannah loves the idea,” Harriet said. “Anything to promote this area and Old Garnet. Not sure as a practical matter how many people can do those tours, but just the publicity will be good. Hannah thinks that if the idea takes off, the plans to put a small lodge on the preserve grounds could finally gain some traction in Frankfort.”
“They’ve talked about that for years,” Cara said, “but nothing ever comes of it.”
“Now that Hannah has an interest in seeing it happen, things could change,” said CiCi.
“I’d think that some people wouldn’t like the idea of a state park lodge,” Cara said. “The Cooperage might see it as competition, and the people who love the preserve would see it as spoiling the land.”
“Not necessarily,” Harriet said. “The people who stay at The Cooperage wouldn’t be the same kind of guests one finds at a state park lodge. They’d be more value travelers than luxury seekers. Also, the preserve has several hundred acres, much of it nearly untouched. A small lodge high above the confluence wouldn’t be much of a change to the land at all.”
“So they’d build something there? Near the playground? That would seriously disappoint Nate to lose his favorite play spot.”
“Maybe you can tell Drake you don’t like the idea,” said CiCi a little too knowingly.
How did that woman know everyone’s business? Time to divert the conversation.
“Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but right now I want to hear some more about why you two think I should go after the Court of Appeals spot.”
“Because you’re qualified and you’d have a lot of support in this area,” Harriet said.
“But Garner Robson is from Frankfort. He’s the great-grandson of a former governor, nephew of a sitting federal judge, and cousin to a state senator. He’s the epitome of well connected.”
“He’s not been on the bench as long as you,” Harriet said. “You’ve got more judicial experience.”
“But he’s a circuit judge and I’m a district judge.”
“Like that matters to voters?” asked CiCi. “They understand experience better than the levels of the judicial system.”
“She’s right,” Harriet agreed. “And Garner’s appointment was controversial.”
“It was?” Cara asked.
“Sure it was,” CiCi sniped. “His father-in-law is a big-time coal baron. But I’m sure the governor didn’t appoint him just because he wants the political donations,” she added with high snark.
&
nbsp; “Wait—what? I thought Garner was dating your sister-in-law,” Cara said, completely befuddled.
“Not exactly.”
“Better tell her,” Harriet said. “I thought most people knew this bit of gossip.”
“It appears I’m seriously uninformed,” confessed Cara, looking from CiCi to Harriet.
CiCi sighed. “I still think you’re better qualified, Cara, regardless what I’m about to say about that Garner Robson character. I don’t want you to think my position is based on sour grapes.”
“So dish it.”
“Garner did date my sister-in-law, Nina, for years. But they broke up shortly after he got on the bench and he immediately started dating someone else. They married a month later, and the new wife turned up pregnant soon after that.”
“Are you saying he cheated on her?” Cara asked. “Sorry to be so blunt,” she added upon seeing CiCi’s disagreeable expression.
“We don’t know and Nina won’t tell. But the timing is just too damned close,” CiCi sighed. “It was awful. Garner had just gotten his judicial appointment the month or so before, and I think Nina expected a proposal. Then she had a bike accident. Nothing big, just enough to put her in the hospital for a night. He came to see her at the hospital—I think—anyway, they argued at some point, then he was gone. Things went from bad to worse.”
“Sorry for your sister-in-law,” said Cara.
“I really haven’t talked much about it because, well, it’s Nina’s life and not mine. But I still don’t think she’s over it.”
Cara understood. Betrayal wasn’t an easy conversation topic.
Hearing that her possible competitor for the bench possibly was steeped in the nasty personal politics of deceit did not sit well with her. If one could not be trusted to be personally loyal, how could that person sit on the bench with any shred of dignity or sense of decency?
A kernel of resolve began to form in her gut, and for the first time in years, Cara felt the stirrings of intense personal ambition.
“So are you interested yet?” Harriet said. “I’m sure Hannah would be the first person around here to throw a fundraiser for you if you run.”
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 57