by L. B. Dunbar
Glancing away from her, I search for Nolan, who I didn’t think I’d easily spot, but the crowd is thinning as people move about the campus for pictures. Rita stands near my brother. The two of them are facing one another, and Nolan wears an expression of irritation. His lips move rapidly while Rita stands before him, hands clasped together near her belly. Her head is bent forward as if she’s listening intently or taking a verbal beating.
“Excuse me,” I say, mindful of Lisa watching me but keeping my eyes focused on my brother and my girl. Drawing near, I slip my arm around Rita as Nolan clamps his lips shut.
“What’s going on?” I question, looking from Rita to my brother, who has a fine sheen of sweat along his upper lip.
“Rita was just telling me about an old friend,” Nolan states.
“I wouldn’t say she’s a friend,” Rita mutters, and I stroke my hand up her back.
“You looked pretty cozy,” Nolan accuses, and I glare down at my brother.
“Who did you see?” I ask, shifting my gaze to Rita.
“Parker Avery,” Rita states, turning her head so I meet her blue eyes through those glasses I love on her.
“Really?” I swallow around the question, recalling Rita’s claim to have known the prosecutor of my case. I wasn’t aware they were friends.
“She was just informing me how she never believed you were guilty.”
“And this just came up out of the blue during a graduation ceremony?” I glance around us, checking how close others stand. “Maybe now isn’t the time to discuss this.”
“Of course, he’s not guilty,” Nolan states, a little too loudly. A few heads turn in our direction.
“Nolan, I just said not now.” What is happening here?
“You don’t need this, Jake. If she doesn’t believe in you, she shouldn’t be in your life.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe in him,” Rita defends, turning back to Nolan, but now I’m curious what did she say. What have the two of them been discussing?
“You aren’t convinced of his innocence, though,” Nolan blurts.
“I didn’t say that either,” Rita states, holding her own against the growing irritation of my brother.
“Nolan. Relax,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder once more to find people watching us.
“If you were convinced, you wouldn’t be poking around with the lawyer who put him away.”
Rita turns to me. “I wasn’t doing that.” Her voice remains strong, confident, and I want to believe her. I want to have faith in her like she says she has in me, but something isn’t settling well with this situation.
“Almost ready for dinner,” Rory says, finally making his way over to us, holding Brynne’s hand. The tension around the three of us is thick enough to cut with a knife, but I turn to my nephew and force a smile.
“Ready,” I state, noticing my ex-wife standing behind Brynne. Lisa’s eyes don’t miss my hand on Rita’s back which I slowly drop, and Rita turns her head toward me once again, watching my hand fall away from her.
“Who’s this?” Lisa snaps, but Rory steps forward to offer a hand to Rita.
“Hi. I’m Rory Drummond.” The firmness in his shake, along with the strength in his voice, says he’s gone into future lawyer mode. I’m so damn proud of him. My heart is ready to burst, but that also might be my blood pressure rising at the strain around us. Nolan and Rita. Lisa and Rita. I’m noticing a common denominator, and I’m not liking it.
“Congratulations. Rita Kaplan, fellow alumnae as you are now official alumni.” She smiles with warmth at someone entering her inner circle. Rory introduces Brynne, and I hold my breath as he introduces Lisa as Brynne’s aunt.
“I’m also Jake’s ex-wife.”
Jesus. My eyes briefly close.
“Okay, then,” Rita says as if that wasn’t awkward as fuck.
“Are you joining us for dinner?” Rory asks Rita, who immediately answers, “No,” as I say, “Yes.”
My head turns toward her, wondering when her plans changed.
“I’m only here for the graduation. Have a wonderful night with your family,” she says, turning to step away from us, but I catch the dark robe she’s wearing, distinguishing her as alumni.
“Excuse us,” I say to Nolan and the gang, walking Rita a few steps away.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“I think it might be best if you celebrated with your family without me.” Rita’s quiet voice disturbs me. It isn’t like her to acquiesce like she is.
“Tell me what happened? Did Nolan say something?”
Rita lifts her head, eyes meeting mine once more. “This is Rory’s day. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Ruin it?” I question. “It’s dinner.”
Rita turns to glance at the gathering of Nolan, Rory, Brynne, Monica, and Lisa waiting on me. “And I’m uninviting myself. Why don’t you call me when dinner is over?” She pats my chest in a patronizing manner, and I’m not liking the brush-off she’s giving me, especially before my family.
“What is this?” I state, glancing up and down her robed outfit. “Am I not good enough for you? My nephew just graduated from this school. He’s one of you.” I pause. “Is it that I’m not?”
“Jake,” she mutters under her breath, eyeing my family, who is surely staring at us.
“Is that it? I’m not some fancy attorney. I’m the criminal.” My voice rises a bit, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“That is not it,” she says, leveling me with a hard stare. “I think it best if you call me once your family meal is over.”
I match her stare. In the time it took for Rory’s ceremony to finish, something changed her mind about us, and now she doesn’t want to spend time with my family. She doesn’t want to be with me. Well, screw this. My family means everything to me. Nolan has been my number one supporter my entire life. He’s been the one person who believed in my innocence. I don’t know what Lisa’s doing here, but she’s a part of Brynne’s life, and Brynne is important to Rory. And every hit I’ve taken, I did so Rory and Nolan could stay together. I don’t need this attitude from Rita. Swiping a hand over my hair, I hiss, “Fine.”
Only, it isn’t fine that my girlfriend is ditching me on such a monumental family occasion, especially when the reason she’s leaving me is because I’m not good enough for her.
I don’t call Rita after dinner. Instead, I celebrate with my nephew, finally catching up with him after seven long years. After that first awkward dinner, he hadn’t been home again, working to complete school and study for the bar, which he’ll be taking soon. Rory has grown into such a good man, and I am so damn happy to commemorate this accomplishment with him. I was so proud of him.
Even Lisa was pleasant throughout the dinner we shared at a fancy steakhouse near the law school campus.
However, Nolan was off. He was still his mouthy self, making inappropriate jokes and being the life of the party, but something wasn’t right with him, and the beers he consumed did not help.
Eventually, Lisa drives the two of us home as we closed down the bar. I thought I’d be going home with Rita after dinner, so I hadn’t driven. I was wrong.
“You look really good,” Lisa states to me once more as we arrive at Nolan’s and my house. I’ve helped him out of the car and watched him struggle to wheel himself to the ramp, brushing off my help. “Maybe I could come in for one more drink, and we could talk.”
The invitation startles me. Lisa has exited her car, waiting on Nolan to leave us alone. “We have nothing left to discuss.” Our divorce mediator handled everything over seven years ago.
“You know I’m still sorry about how everything happened,” she says, not letting it go.
“It’s over, Lisa.”
Stepping up to me, her hand comes to my chest. “But we could start over. A fresh start. A second chance. You look so good, Jake.”
My stomach churns at the solicitation. Lisa might be thinking she’s seductive, but she’s
not. I don’t need a woman who broke our marriage vows. Hell, I don’t need any woman who isn’t committed to me, and that goes for Rita as well. Her earlier rejection still stings.
“I’m not interested in doing this with you,” I mutter, shaking my head at my ex-wife and removing her hand from my chest.
“I made a mistake. One night, Jake. One time. I made a mistake. Can’t you forgive me?”
I’m not interested in rehashing an old argument. Lisa and I both know it was more than one night. It was more than one time. Forgiveness was all I wanted once upon a time. Actually, faithfulness was what I wanted. I wanted Lisa to believe in us as a couple, but she hadn’t. She turned her back on me even before everything fell apart.
“I do forgive you, Lisa, because you have to live with the regret, not me.”
“What about your regrets?”
“What regrets?” I state, a cold sweat breaking out on me.
“The fire,” she whispers, showing her lack of faith in me once again.
“I’m not doing this,” I mutter, stepping away from my ex-wife. “Thanks for the ride, Lisa.” I turn my back on her and wave over my shoulder. I don’t need this shit. Not from Lisa. Not from any woman.
“So Lisa looked good,” Nolan teases, wiggling his brows over glassy, inebriated eyes.
“Yeah, that ship sailed, brother,” I state, pouring him a glass of water in the kitchen and handing it over to him, reminding me of so many nights he’d come home young and drunk, and I’d try to help him squash a potential killer hangover.
“Could go sailing again,” he says, lifting the glass and downing the water I offered.
“Not interested in sailing,” I say, wanting to cut this euphemism conversation short and get to bed. I’m exhausted.
“Thank goodness that other ship pulled out of port,” Nolan mutters.
“What ship?” I snort.
“Rita Captain.”
“Rita Kaplan,” I correct. “And what happened with you two anyway?”
“Oh, Jakey,” Nolan mutters. “The things I could tell you.” His eyelids lazily lower.
“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” I tease, patting him on the shoulder and stepping behind his chair to wheel him to his room. His hand catches mine over his shoulder.
“You didn’t need her,” Nolan says, and something about his touch and the tone of his voice has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Stepping back around the front of the wheelchair, I lower to my haunches and glare up at my brother.
“Why would you say that, Nolan?”
“She was talking to that fancy lawyer, all chummy and hugging. They probably laughed about your conviction, saying how easy it was to put you away.” Nolan licks his lips, and his lids close once more.
“Why would you say that? Did you hear something?”
“I didn’t need to hear anything. She kept looking at me like she knows.”
More hair raising. A cold sweat starts next. “Like who knows what, little brother?” My voice is tight while I try to coax whatever it is he isn’t saying out of him. I remember having to do the same thing when he was younger. He’d be in trouble at school but didn’t directly say what he’d done to cause it. And typically, when trouble occurred, Nolan was the culprit. Softening my voice, lowering to his level, I learned how to speak to my brother to get him to open up. Of course, it was never Nolan’s fault. Someone else always made him do whatever he’d done.
“She knows about me. She knows about us.”
Having lost me, I pinch my brows in question. “Us?” Immediately, I think back to Lisa. Was Lisa standing near Nolan? Did Rita sense that something happened between my ex and my brother after all? My stomach churns again. The beers I drank slosh around in my belly.
“I just wanted to take care of you. For once, I wanted to do right by you.” Nolan awkwardly reaches out from my face and pats my cheek several times until he’s nearly slapping me. I catch his hand and crush his fingers.
“Nolan, what are you talking about?”
“I wanted them to know we were needed. The State needed more manpower. We needed you.” His eyes widen in emphasis, coherent for just a moment, but I’m the one confused.
“What are you talking about?” I repeat.
“The warehouses. We needed their attention. They needed to see how important we were. Firemen put out fires.”
“Nolan,” I hiss, eyes rapidly blinking as fear courses through my veins. “What did you do?”
The mystery of those three warehouse fires comes back to me. Electrical tampering. Chemicals nearby to ignite the flame further. The judge’s voice as he sentenced me, saying he’d seen it before. Firemen setting fires to save a department.
“Nolan,” I whisper, my throat thick. He shakes his head from side to side, his face lowered.
“I never thought they’d catch me.”
“They didn’t!” I suddenly shriek. “They caught me. They thought I did it.”
Nolan’s head shakes more vigorously. “I messed up.”
“Tell me you didn’t set the fires? Tell me you didn’t burn down that school?”
I’m going to be sick. For all the guilt I felt over a crime I didn’t commit, my heart races faster as I think of Rita.
“They weren’t paying attention. The empty warehouses weren’t enough of a sign for them.”
“A sign?” I question, not understanding his thought process.
“I needed to go bigger. No one cared about the warehouses. I needed to go somewhere where they’d take notice. Someplace with more meaning.”
“The school,” I whisper.
“An empty school.”
“But the school wasn’t empty,” I remind him, tightness filling my voice.
“I didn’t know,” Nolan says, finally lifting his head, tears in his liquid, red-rimmed eyes. “I didn’t know.”
My fist clenches in his shirt, tugging him forward in his chair. “What the hell did you do?”
“I just wanted you to keep your job. I wanted that promotion to chief. No one was going to get hurt.” My eyes drift to his legs, paralyzed in the chair where he sits. Bitterly, he laughs, following my gaze.
“When I came out of that coma, you were arrested. I had faith in the system. They wouldn’t find a thing.” A tear slips from Nolan’s eye. “You’d get off. There wasn’t any evidence it was you.”
Releasing my brother, I fall back on my ass to the cold kitchen floor and stare up at him in his chair. A shaky hand swipes over my mouth. “But there was evidence.”
Circumstantial but substantial evidence.
“The images at the school were me. The wire cutters were mine.”
Suddenly, I recall the tools submitted as evidence for stripping wires, intended to shorten them. As a case was built against me, the tool was discovered in the garage. They belonged to me, but I hadn’t used them. My brother had.
“Nolan, why . . .” Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he come forward? Why did he do this? Although he’d just explained himself, I still cannot comprehend what he’d done.
“I went to prison,” I remind him, my voice hardening. His head snaps up, eyes wide but spilling with liquid.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A sob cracks through the room before my brother falls apart, shaking uncontrollably with guilt and tears.
My blood runs cold. I have no comfort for him. “You’re sorry?” I bellow, slapping a hand to the linoleum flooring. Nolan’s fragile body shudders.
“I was so messed up. Hurt and on drugs at the hospital. Then you were gone, convicted, and I didn’t know what to do. Rory told me how he thought it was his fault, and you told him not to tell anyone. I said the same thing. I couldn’t have my son go to jail for something I’d done. And then I couldn’t admit it myself because I couldn’t leave my son without a father. I couldn’t do to him what had been done to us.”
His body shakes harder, the tears falling faster. I don’t even know what to say. I’m vibrating with con
fusion and anger, hurt and betrayal. My own brother. Sadly, I knew Nolan justified his actions in his head. It was never his fault. He had his reasons. He had his convictions, but this time, I had enough.
Scrambling up off the floor, I stumbled in my dress shoes. I was still wearing my shirt, rolled to the elbows, but my tie was loosened. My coat had been removed hours ago. Fumbling through the hallway, I attempt to climb the stairs, tripping on them and banging my knees on the risers. I wasn’t drunk. In fact, every drink I’d had earlier turned to ice in my veins.
My own brother.
The little boy I’d become a father figure to.
The child I’d protected from bullies.
The teenager I’d moved home for.
The man for whom I’d given up my life.
Stumbling up the stairs, I find my truck keys in my room and slip back down the steps. My legs hardly hold me. My knees give out once, and I fall to the steps again, slamming my ass this time on the hardwood. My heart races too fast. My ears ring.
I owed my brother nothing, and I’d be damned if I lost one more thing because of him.
23
Rita
A sharp rattling on my front door wakes me from a fitful sleep. My room is pitch black, and it takes me a second to gather my wits. Throwing off the blanket, I can’t imagine who would be at the house this late and assume it’s either an animal bumping against the door or someone trying to break in. After grabbing the baseball bat I keep under the bed, I head down the hallway. I’m not afraid to use this thing. I’m certain I could get in one good swing although my hands sweat along the handle. As I press myself against the wall of the staircase, lowering for the first floor like I’m the one sneaking into my home, I see that a forehead rests against the frosted glass while knuckles wrap on the wood as if separate from the body, creating such a ruckus.
Tiptoeing down the staircase, I feel goose bumps scatter over my flesh. I’m only wearing a low-cut T-shirt nightdress which hits at my kneecaps. Not the best body armor, but then again, an intruder wouldn’t be knocking on the door. Still, the bat remains raised as I reach the front door, and call out, “Who’s there?”