by Toni Shiloh
Right now, Michelle desperately needed him to hold her. When he had driven her to Jo’s place last night, she had tried to convince him to come inside, but he had been too nervous. Last night was the first time they had let the mood carry them over the edge.
She felt her cheeks redden. Was he ashamed of what they did? She swallowed. Aren’t you?
Michelle looked up at the sound of slippered feet shuffling against the carpet. The look on Mrs. Pierre’s face stopped her cold. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here.”
What did she mean? Where else would he be at seven in the morning?
“I’ll call Evan or Darryl.”
She watched as Mrs. Pierre made two phone calls. Each call ended with her shaking her head.
“There’s no note or anything?” Michelle was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. How could it be when she was shaking like a leaf?
“The fridge,” Mrs. Pierre stated. “We leave notes for each other there.”
Michelle followed Guy’s mother into the kitchen and watched as she reached for the yellow note on the fridge. Mrs. Pierre’s eyes darted back and forth. Her skin lost its color, pallor taking its place. She sunk into a chair, a hand over her chest. “Non, non,” she said with a shake of her head.
Michelle grabbed the note before it fell to the floor and read the words that brought tears to his mother’s eyes.
Manman-
I had to leave, I could not stay. When I can, I’ll send you my address. Please do not worry, I’ll be okay. But I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t.
-Guy
Michelle sat up, gasping for air. The vestiges of the dream clung to her. It had been years since the memory had invaded her dreams. She wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead. She flung the covers back and trotted to her bathroom.
She blinked, noting the puffy eyes. That’s why you shouldn’t cry. Closing her eyes, she tried to slow her heart beat. The dream always made it pound. It seemed like yesterday when she had discovered Guy had left Freedom Lake. Without a good-bye. No sorry. Nothing. He just took her virginity and ran.
A light rap sounded against her bedroom.
“Come in.”
She stared at Jo’s reflection in the mirror.
“Hey Chelle, how did you sleep?”
She shrugged. Confessional was over. No way would she relive the details about her recurring dream. Especially since she hadn’t had it in years. “It was sleep.”
Jo nodded.
“Out with it.” She stood and faced her friend.
Michelle knew her friend was trying to find the words to handle the situation delicately. Jo never wanted to step on anyone’s toes.
“I guess I just wondered why you didn’t share something like that. We were inseparable back then. Why wouldn’t you have told me or Chloe?”
Michelle rested her head against her hand. “There was no way I would tell Chloe. You know how religious she’s always been, and I didn’t want her guilting me. And you...” she faced her friend. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I don’t know how to explain but to simply say, I didn’t think I could tell you or Chloe.”
Jo nodded, but the sad look didn’t fade. “I’m sorry you didn’t think we’d be there for you. I hope you know that’s not the case now.”
Michelle nodded. Shame and guilt did something to a person. How could anyone ever be sure they wouldn’t receive condemnation from the people that mattered the most?
“What did Guy think?”
She bit her lip and Jo raised an eyebrow.
“Did he know?” her friend whispered.
She shook her head.
“Oh, man, Chelle. Are you ever going to tell him?”
Tears smarted and she wanted to groan in frustration. She would end up going to work looking like Rocky if she kept on crying. “Not in the foreseeable future.”
Jo let out a sigh. “I’ll pray for you, girl.”
“That’s all that can be done right about now.”
GUY POURED MILK INTO the three bowls. It was a cereal kind of morning. Last night he had tossed and turned for no apparent reason. When he woke up, a ball of dread had formed in the pit of his stomach and wouldn’t disappear. The desire to do anything remained absent. He didn’t want to cook. Definitely, didn’t want to go to work. So instead, he got up and went through the motions.
He placed two bowls in front of his girls.
“Thank you, Papa,” Rachel said with a grin.
“Thanks, Papa,” Rebekah said around a mouthful of Captain Crunch.
“Welcome, girls.”
He sat down and took a spoonful of his cereal. Why did he feel so discombobulated? The feeling that today would be a bad day clung to him like a burr. In the past, he would have prayed and asked God for peace. Unfortunately, that seemed a little hypocritical now. If a bad day was coming, praying to God wouldn’t change anything.
Rachel cocked her head and studied him. “Are you sleepy?”
“Not really,” he said with a shake of the head.
Her brow crinkled and he inhaled sharply. She had the same look Charlene used to get.
“Something’s wrong.”
“What wong, Papa?” Bekah studied him, her eyes widening with confusion.
“Nothing, girls, I’m fine.”
Rachel shook her head. “No you’re not. Maybe you should pray.”
He stopped, his spoon held in mid-air. Where in the world did she get that? He never taught them about God.
“What do you mean?” he spoke slowly, cautiously waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
“Grann says pray when you have bad day. Nana Baker says the same thing.”
The urge to drop his face into his bowl of cereal rose up. He was surrounded by religious zealots. Guy should have known his mother would tell the girls about the Lord. Nana Baker, too.
Maybe putting them into daycare would be best. No one would be around to brainwash them with religion.
But it’s the truth.
He winced.
“See, you are having a bad day.”
“It’s okay, Rachel.” Why, oh why, did she have to have such keen observation?
Rachel looked at Bekah and wordless communication passed between them. They got up and placed their little hands on his arms.
“Lord, please help Papa have a good day and protect him. In Jesus Name, Amen.”
“Ah-man,” Bekah echoed.
They gave him a hug and his heart melted.
MICHELLE WALKED UNSTEADILY down the lane. Normally she came here on special occasions, but she needed someone to listen to her. Someone who loved her. Not that her friends didn’t but they had their own lives. She wanted to be connected by love and something deeper. Tangible even.
She made her way by memory, ignoring the immaculately cut grass. Thankfully, no one else was around. She didn’t want anyone intruding. Her chest ached from her conversation with Tanya and for the tears spilled with Jo.
Once upon a time, Michelle had made a promise to her parents to become a lawyer and prosecute every OWI to the fullest extent of the law. She was intent on making sure no one would ever break a family apart again.
Michelle stopped in front of her parents’ headstones and sank to her knees. The marble stones remained free of any debris. The groundskeeper must have cleaned recently. She ran a hand down the tombstone on the left and read the words. The ones she knew by heart.
Michael Alan Thomas, Jr.
Beloved Husband and Father
February 9, 1960 – June 11, 2003
She turned to the one on the right and read the words.
Yolanda Anne James Thomas
Beloved Wife and Mother
May 10, 1963 – June 11, 2003
“Why did you have to die? It’s so unfair.”
Tears streamed down her face, seeming to chase one after the other. It had been awhile since she’d cried at their graves. But today, the injustice was too much to bear. How Chloe co
uld have suggested that their death would bring about any good was insulting.
She looked up in the sky. “Why would You take them from me? And at the same time? Where’s the good in that?”
What was God doing to her?
Michelle took a deep breath and continued talking aloud. She needed to get this off her chest. “Lord, I have no idea what You are doing in my life. I’ve heard that You’re a loving God. That You are supposed to work all things for good. That You have an abundance of grace and that there is such a thing as righteous anger.”
She stilled her hands. “But I just can’t reconcile all those ideas with what I grew up believing. You took my parents away from me and I just don’t see the good in that.” She bit her lip, trying to slow down the flood of tears. “I want them back even though I know that isn’t possible. You know everything, so You know why I chose my job. What I promised them. Why...why would you allow a drunk driver to ask me to represent her? What good would come of that? It would go against everything I believe in.”
A picture of Tanya flitted in her mind. The look of agony on the young woman’s face when she revealed the reason she drank herself into a stupor had been permanently imprinted in her memory bank. “I get her pain, Lord, but she killed someone.”
Like you? A gasp tore from her lips. Were they the same? Everyone has a story. She’d read that somewhere, maybe seen it on social media.
Just like my unborn baby. She clutched her hands to her waist at the memory of the pain. She knew exactly what Tanya meant wishing she could change her decision.
“But there’s no going back,” she whispered. Michelle straightened. “How do you make something good come of that? I just don’t get it, Lord. I have no idea what to do and I’m tired of the everyday weariness that tugs at me. Tanya just brought it all back to the surface.”
Wiping her tears away, she continued. “I’m tired, Lord. I don’t want to be weary any more. I want to be at peace with the past. I want to feel like the future is something to look forward to. But, how can I? Chloe says Your grace knows no bounds, but I feel shackled at every turn.”
She ran her hand along her mother’s name. “I can’t imagine she would be proud of me. My mother would hate what I did.” She looked up into the sky again. “If Your grace is truly that vast, why doesn’t it absolve me of guilt?”
Forgive yourself.
Michelle froze, her hand resting on her mother’s tombstone. Did she hear that? Was that her conscience? She swallowed, feeling the pulse pound in her neck and her palms turn clammy. She wiped her hands against her pinstripe slacks.
“How do I forgive myself? My offense is unforgivable.”
Forgive yourself.
She shook her head, unable to comprehend the Voice, the instruction, or the idea that forgiving herself was an option. Could His grace truly forgive her crimes? Absolve her of guilt? Would representing Tanya give her the freedom from shame she so desperately needed?
No, that was craziness. She needed to make a decision, and needed to do so quickly. Tanya would expect an answer and she had none to give. The irony didn’t escape her. Who would have thought she would be contemplating defending a drunk driver?
Chapter Eighteen
Guy picked up his phone, wondering why Chloe was calling him. He figured any information about Davenport would be relayed through Michelle.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Guy.”
Her voice sounded so small. It was almost child-like in its hesitancy. “Hey, Chloe. Everything all right?”
“I wanted to talk to you about John Davenport.”
“Did Michelle talk to you?”
“She did. I understand you found out his name through an old classmate.”
“Sort of. Michelle talked to the old classmate and passed some information on to me. I had a buddy look up his whereabouts.”
Her sigh reached across the waves. “Is it possible I could talk to the woman?”
“I don’t see why not. How about this. My secretary is her daughter. I can pass your contact info to her. If she doesn’t have a problem, you guys can set up a visit.”
“Thank you so much, Guy. I appreciate all your help.”
“No problem.” He wrote down her information and then said his goodbyes.
He stared at the door. Ever since Holly had scheduled a play date, he felt awkward around her, but now he needed to put that aside for Chloe. Gathering his courage, Guy headed for his office door. He opened it then stopped abruptly. Holly’s hand was raised as if to knock.
“Hey Sheriff, I didn’t realize you were coming out.”
“No problem.” He held out the sticky note. “Chloe wanted to know if she could talk to your mom. I have her information for you to pass on, if that’s okay?”
She took the sticky and smiled. “Sure. I was just coming to let you know Sam is sick. She’s running a fever, so Saturday is probably a no go.”
He nodded, trying to keep the relief from his face. “I hope she feels better.”
She waved his comment away. “You know how kids are. Someone sneezes on them and they’re sick. I’m sure it will go away quickly.”
“Who’s watching her?”
“My mother.”
Must be nice. His mother wanted nothing to do with him. She called it tough love and he called it cruel.
Holly continued, “I’ll be sure to let you know when I think she’s germ free.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll let my mom know about Chloe.” She held up the sticky note. “Back to work I go.”
Holly closed the door and he let out a sigh. It seemed like everything was back to normal. Until she schedules another play date.
MICHELLE STARED AT the phone on her desk. She was supposed to be calling Tanya with her decision. But what was she supposed to say? Michelle picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone. Sighing, she placed it back on the hook.
“What do I do?”
Tell her no and recommend a capable attorney.
“But will another understand her reasoning for drinking?”
Are you condoning it?
Michelle grunted in frustration, resting her head in her hands. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. Without a doubt, she abhorred drunk driving. Only now her conscience kept reminding her of what it felt like to have an abortion. To remember that deep seated regret which tugged her downward, threatening to drown her in sorrow. Michelle hadn’t turned to alcohol for solace, but she could empathize with Tanya. Her friends had thought her grief had only been for the loss of her parents and had made it their mission to cheer her up.
What if Tanya had no one? No one to pull her from the wretched pain of regret?
At the chime of the door, Michelle looked up, wondering who it could be. She rose to investigate, but stopped. Tanya stood in her doorway, a hesitant look on her face.
“Good morning, Ms. Thomas.”
“Tanya.” She flopped into her seat, her throat convulsing. Help me, please. What do I do?
Tanya walked closer. “I know it’s only been a day, but I was hoping you’d have an answer.” She licked her lips in a nervous fashion. “Have you...have you made a decision?”
I can do this. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Tanya sat in front of her.
“How do you plan on paying for my fees?” Michelle folded her hands in front of her. “Do you have family willing to help you or support you?”
Tanya looked down. “I was fired from my job when they found out about the OWI charge. My family,” she licked her lips. “My family isn’t willing to support me, but I can find a way to pay you, Ms. Thomas. I just need someone who understands.”
She couldn’t fault that logic. It was what made her wrestle with indecision.
The phone rang.
Michelle held a finger up to Tanya. “Thomas attorney-at-law, how may I help you?”
“Hey, Chelle, it’s Chloe. I was wondering if you would go with me to see Mrs. Adams.”
>
“I can, but can I call you back to hash out details? I have a client.” She met Tanya’s gaze. “All right, talk to you later.”
The silence hung in the air, suspended by Tanya’s disbelief and her own shock. Why had she said she was with a client?
Because you know you must represent her.
“Did you mean it?” Tanya asked in a stark whisper.
Don’t back out now. “I did.” She met her gaze, intent on showing compassion. For she did feel it. How could I not?
A tear slipped down Tanya’s face. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll pay you.”
“I have an idea. Have you ever done any secretarial work?”
“What?”
Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Secretarial work. Have you ever done it?”
Tanya blinked. “Yes, I was a paralegal in Kodiak until I was fired.”
What were the odds?
God works all things for good, Chelle.
The echo of Chloe’s voice streamed through her mind. She blinked, focusing on Tanya’s face. “I need a paralegal, but I also need someone who can answer the phones, keep the calendar up-to-date, and other administrative details.”
“I can do it. I don’t know if my boss would give me a reference, but you could certainly talk to him.” Tanya handed her a business card.
It showed the information of a reputable law firm in Kodiak. In fact, Michelle had contemplated working there before she opened her own firm. She tapped the card against her hand. “I’ll give them a call. Maybe they can be a character witness at the trial. I’ll also draw up the paperwork for you to fill out as an official employee. You can pay me a percentage of your paycheck for lawyer fees.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Thomas.”
“Can you start today?”
“Yes.”
“Great, let me show you the desk you can work at. It’s the one in the outer office.”