Broken Seed

by R J Machado De Quevedo

  I felt a wave of relief. A large weight lifted from my shoulders. I suddenly felt almost giddy, and I was so incredibly relieved. Yes! Finally! Something had gone my way. Something important had finally gone my way. Dwayne would be going back to prison and couldn’t come near me.

  At least, not legally. The thought slowly sobered me.

  “Miss Bishop, approach the bench please,” the judge said kindly.

  I looked up and hadn’t realized he had been watching me. I didn’t know what my face had looked like the last few seconds, but he had watched my reaction. I hope he didn’t mistake the relief for gleeful vengeance.

  “Yes, sir,” I said as I came around the podium and stood in front of him. My neck was arched up to see him. His desk was rather higher than it looked from ten feet away.

  “Hmm, Nina, this is off the record, dear,” he said to the black- haired clerk typing furiously at his side. “I want to give her some unofficial advice. You know me. Her case is already closed.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Nina said, and she took her hands off her keyboard and rotated her chair away to give us the illusion of privacy.

  The judge looked back at me and leaned forward so he was leaning over the front of his desk as far as he could without climbing up on top of it.

  “This NCO is just a piece of paper, Miss Bishop. Keep in mind a man like your father doesn’t usually respect the law. I’ve been around a long time, Miss Bishop. You may need to take steps to protect yourself and those you love. Learn the law. And learn how to properly defend yourself should the worse happen.”

  “Terra… I mean the clerk in the filing department said some- thing similar to me,” I said quietly.

  “Terra’s a smart woman,” he said, a glint in his eye at the sound of her name.

  Hmm, he did like her a lot. That was sweet. I liked seeing a man and woman light up just by hearing the name of the other. I also loved to see interracial couples. It gave me hope the old- fashioned hatred and bigotry in America was finally fading away, at least in more hearts and minds than it used to. Having grown up with a father who would spout off about the pride of the Aryan brotherhood and had branded me with a Swastika when I was thirteen, I resented everything there was about misguided supremacy groups and racism in general. It was just another form of evil.

  “Take this.” He handed me a card.

  “What is it?” I asked glancing down.

  “This is a friend of mine. He’s one of the best. He’ll know how to hook you up with the right people for training in self-defense and carrying a weapon,” he said quietly.

  I raised my eyebrows this time.

  “You won’t have to carry a gun. But a Taser is quite an effective tool if used properly,” he said in answer to my surprised expression.

  I looked at the card and felt a little unreal as I read it. “Dr. Eugene Picard, DOI-approved bounty hunter training instructor?” I made it a question.

  “Doc is the best at what he does. He was a marine for over twenty-five years. Don’t let his job title scare you. He’s as sweet as they come but as ruthless about fighting crime as a criminal is about committing it. He can train you or refer you to someone who can. And I trust him to also help walk you through getting a CCW if you want. That’s a—”

  “Carrying a concealed weapons permit. Terra told me,” I said shyly.

  “That’s correct. Applicants that qualify under Penal Code 12050 are granted their CCW. Applicants must qualify under all three of the necessary criteria. Show good cause, be of sound and good moral character, and have residency here within the state of California. I think you would qualify under the present circumstances. If, for some reason, they reject the application, you have a right to appeal their decision. If that happens, come find me,” he said knowingly.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Honor, but we have four more cases to process this session,” Nina said respectfully and as privately as possible. I guess our little talk was over.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I’ll look into it,” I said, tucking the card in my front pocket and taking a step back.

  “I strongly recommend you do that, Miss Bishop. Tell the Doc, Judge Graham sent you. It may save your life someday,” he said, looking at me with sadness, as if the idea of another innocent from his courtroom being hurt after they left the safety of its four walls, truly and deeply worried him.

  “Thank you again, sir.” I said, tipping my head in respect.

  “Here you go, Miss,” Nina said, and she handed me a stamped piece of paper.

  I glanced at it curiously. It was a copy of the permanent no contact order with an effective day of today, November 9, 2010.

  “Oh, thank you! I didn’t realize I’d have this in hand today,” I said, amazed.

  “Well, we had time while the judge and you chatted to print it off, and it’s important you have this in hand as soon as possible. It should be accessible in every law enforcement agency system within the next few hours. We upload the records every day at 17:00 hours. Good luck with everything,” Nina said with a quick, tightlipped smile.

  “I appreciate that,” I said with sincerity.

  I walked away and gathered my other papers from the podium and headed back down the aisle. I saw the back of a few people as they slipped out of the courtroom in a little cluster. I followed suit and headed toward the double doors, assuming it was okay to leave during the interim between cases.

  “Kwasinkski versus Hernandez,” I heard the other clerk call out from behind me.

  Two sour-looking women on opposite sides of the back row got up and pushed past me to try and beat the other one to the front podiums. They must be Kwasinkski and Hernandez. I took the opportunity to slip out the doors.

  “Thank you, God! Thank you! Oh thank you,” I whispered as I walked briskly back down the hall.

  “Melanie?” a familiar deep, but slightly boyish, voice said from behind me.

  I knew that voice. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around, the papers clutched tightly in my hand.

  “David?” I asked with a surprised whisper.

  He was standing slightly away from the wall outside of the courtroom I had just exited in a hurry. He looked solemn.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked skeptically.

  A horrible thought popped into my head. Was he about to enter that courtroom or had he just been leaving? What if he had been in there and had heard my case? Oh God, had he heard me explaining why I needed the NCO? What if he had heard about my father and the attempted rape and the years of abuse?

  I felt my face grow red hot and my breathing stop. This was not happening. I did not want David knowing anything about my past. Not yet. Not before he had a chance to know who I was now. I didn’t want his feelings for me to get mixed up with pity or, worse, revulsion. I didn’t want him to know I wasn’t good enough for him.

  No, Melanie. That isn’t true. That isn’t how you should view yourself anymore. You’re a child of the most high God. A daughter of the King of kings. You are not worthless or worth less than anyone else. You are a precious gift and any man would be blessed to be with you.

  I heard the words gently press onto my mind like a distant whisper of comfort. I let them sink into my heart.

  What if he had heard? It wasn’t my sin or my fault. It was Dwayne’s. I was just the unfortunate child and victim of a cruel and ruthless man. It didn’t mean I had to carry his shame.

  David walked up closer to me with a gentle smile as he studied my face. “I’ve been visiting a few different courtrooms today for class. I’m taking a criminology course. Not that it’s really part of my major’s requirements,” he said conversationally.

  I had never asked him what his major was in or what other classes he was taking. I didn’t even know why he was still at a junior college. I thought he was older than I was.

  “What’s your major going to be in?” I asked.

  “Psychology,” he said with a shy smile.

  “A psychologist?
That’s a tough subject. Why study that?” I asked, curious.

  Keep the conversation on him and not on why I’m here.

  “Well, I joined the United States Air Force Academy after I graduated from high school and got my degree in aviation. I followed that up with officer’s training school, then flight school, and shortly after I graduated I was deployed. I did my time, and make no mistake, I loved flying those helicopters and I miss my boys. But I couldn’t stay and keep doing the same things I was doing after what I saw starting to happen around me,” he said, shifting his feet. I could tell that it was an uncomfortable subject for him.

  Join the club.

  “What started happening around you?” I asked, honestly wanting to know. Wow, he’s a pilot? David still fascinated me. Though I still had part of my back brain screaming I had to leave and go to Elisabeth’s class and the front part hoping he hadn’t heard me in court. I really want to hear his answer.

  “War and all it’s horrors for one. The decisions I was forced to make— But it wasn’t just about me. Too many of the guys coming back home got kicked to the curb when they got home. No support, nothing,” he said with a deepening growl in his voice and his eyes held a shared pain. I didn’t usually see David upset. He was upset now, just talking about it.

  “How are they without support? What do you mean?” I inquired gently, to keep him talking. Better to talk about him before I slipped away than why I was here.

  “The military washed their hands of them once they exhibited signs of PTSD or came home with other physical disabilities. It made me sick. I decided to get out, take my GI Bill, and go to school to study psychology so I’ll know how to help these forgotten soldiers. When I graduate, I can help guys like the ones I knew.”

  He sounded so sad by the end of his explanation. But I could feel that he was choosing his words carefully and holding back. Was he one of those men? Struggling to live each day with what war had done to them? My heart filled with sadness for him as I suddenly saw him in a different light. David had been a soldier. I hadn’t known. I’d never even heard him talk about it before.

  I reached out and touched his arm without thinking. “That sounds like a good plan,” I said, trying to be comforting. “I know you’ll be great at it.”

  He smiled as he looked down at my hand on his arm. “You’re something else,” he said quietly.

  “Why?” I asked, starting to pull my hand away.

  He slipped his hand over mine, just before I was free of his arm and pressed it back down onto his black pea coat sleeve. “You are worried about me when I should be the one worried about you,” he said gently.

  “What do you mean?” I said a little too defensively. Crap. Had he heard? Had he been in there?

  He studied my expression, looking confused. Then, his head shifted to the courtroom door behind him and back at me. A look of dawning comprehension settled on his face and he quickly hid it away.

  “I only meant, I find you leaving a courtroom looking…anxious and…relieved. And since I don’t think you’re taking criminology or any beginning law courses, you’re probably here for a personal reason. I should be worried because going to court is never a fun task, but going into this courtroom,”—he motioned behind him—

  “is for people with more pressing concerns than a silly civil lawsuit,” he finished, his tone factual rather than accusatory.

  “Oh,” I said, biting my lower lip.

  David stepped in closer to me, his hand still covering mine. I looked up into his face, much too close. I had a flashback to last night at work, and I fought to keep my breathing even and my face from showing the longing I felt to be in his arms.

  “You always do that,” he almost whispered.

  “Do what?” I asked, looking into his honey-brown eyes.

  “Bite that lower lip of yours,” he said, his eyes fixed on it now.

  “No, I don’t,” I protested nervously.

  “Yes. You do,” He said, taking half a step closer to me. His eyes held a little heat to them.

  “I have to go, David. I have to meet Elisabeth to watch one of her lectures at the university today.” I looked down at my watch on my free arm. “Her class already started! I have to go,” I said, a little too high-pitched.

  David took a full step back and let go of my arm. His eyes gone back to normal, and his face once again held his friendly, I-don’t-want-to-scare-you-off-because-I’m-harmless expression.

  “Sure. Are you still meeting me at the restaurant at four o’clock to help clean up?” he asked aiming for casual.

  “Yes, I was planning on it. I might be a few minutes late, but I’ll be there,” I said. “I seem to be running late a lot today, but I’ll see you later. I promise.”

  David’s face broke into a wide grin. “Okay. See you,” he said.

  I felt him watching me as I hurried away. I could feel the heat of his gaze like hot chocolate pouring down my back. When I got to the stairs, I couldn’t help but glance over to see if my instincts were right. They were. He stood with a thoughtful expression on his face, watching me intently.

  I waved good-bye, and he waved back, a small smile playing on his mouth to wipe away the serious one he had. Whatever he had been thinking, he had been thinking hard about it. I hoped it hadn’t been about my NCO case. I hope he hadn’t heard. I knew I wasn’t worthless, but I still didn’t want him knowing about any of my past or present battles. We were just friends. Actually, we were finally starting to talk like friends and care about each other. I didn’t want it complicated with baggage.

  Melanie, he just told you he’d been a pilot in a war. He’s got to have baggage too, I suddenly realized.

  I swiftly went down the stairs and headed for the front doors. David had a whole military career he walked away from because of the injustice he had witnessed. I hadn’t even asked him where he had been deployed. I assume he’d flown his helicopter during the War on Terror. The war had been going on for over nine years. He had joined the military knowing he’d probably be sent as fresh meat to be slaughtered, but he had signed up anyway.

  As I made my way through the parking lot to find my car, I found myself admiring him for his courage, national pride, and moral character. David was still a mystery to me as I must be to him. He let me bail on the conversation without actually answering his implied questions as to why I was there. He hadn’t pushed it.

  Once again, he had let me determine the speed, direction, and emotional level of our conversation and hadn’t forced answers from me or demanded more.

  David was amazing.

  Lesson Learned

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time I finally made it to Elisabeth’s Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and the Old Testament class, better known in her day planner as HRS 121, it was about twenty minutes past two o’clock. I was so late! Good thing it was a long class. Maybe I’d still get to hear something good.

  She was lecturing in one of those auditorium-style classrooms that have the professor stuck down at the bottom level. White boards spread out behind her, and a big oak podium was placed precisely in the middle. A microphone stand coming out of the top of the podium stuck out forgotten as usual. In the few times I had ever made it to watch Elisabeth teach a class or give a lecture at a seminar, she had barely used the podium, let alone her notes. She was a very interactive speaker. She’d pace, gesture, and engage her audience. Her humor was good enough to keep the material from becoming boring or mundane but still tastefully academic—an art unto itself.

  I glanced around the room as I entered from the top level, trying to be as quiet as I possibly could. Pretty much everyone ignored me. I only caught a few curious glances and confused looks as to who I was and why I was in their classroom. I got the distinct impression they felt I didn’t belong there. Maybe I didn’t look like I belonged in their master’s program. They probably weren’t wrong.

  I looked away from the few stares and focused on where Elisabeth was at the front of th
e class. Her back was to me as I slipped into a seat in the back row near the inside aisle. Perfect. Easy to enter and easy to exit without too much commotion.

  Liz was writing some more notes on the center of the white board beneath some preexisting ones. She had made the top line in bigger block letters than the rest. It said, “Chapter Nineteen— Biblical Controversies of the Old Testament.” I could see in the corner of the far right board, the name of the class in bold red writing.

  Liz turned around and faced the class once more. She spotted me, glancing up at me almost immediately as if she had known I’d been there. How did she do that?