45. Romy
45
romy
“ D oing all right, darlin’?” Chuck asked as we walked into the courtroom the next morning.
I smoothed my sweaty hands down my black dress.
“Doing all right. Thank you for being here with me. You’ve always been more of a dad to Hazel and me than anyone else.”
After talking to Hazel yesterday, I knew what I needed to do. We both cried, and she finally told me her story.
She didn’t want to leave Willows, but she was either going to get out of that relationship in a body bag or run as far as she could to get away from Jesse. Over the last year, she’d been hoarding small lumps of cash from her and Jesse’s paychecks until the time came for her to leave. She wrote the note, knowing that she would either be taking off or she would be dead. With the cell phone, she’d called the domestic violence helpline and was pointed to resources, including the horse ranch that rehabs rescued horses and provides therapy for survivors of domestic violence.
She hadn’t planned on taking Jesse’s life, but she had fought him until she could get the gun from him, turning it around on him. For a moment, after firing the handgun, she had thought of turning it on herself, but she didn’t want to die. So she panicked and took off, thinking she could make it to Sanctuary Ranch. That’s when the cops had caught up with her.
Junior was arrested yesterday for trespassing, vandalism, and breaking his hundred-yard restraining order. Hazel was proud of me for doing what I needed to do to keep myself safe, even after he’d threatened me, and happy that Junior was behind bars. He had been blackmailing Hazel, threatening to prove Hazel was stealing funds from Jesse, and that was what motivated her to kill his brother.
Chuck and I headed over to the bench behind the defense. Hazel turned in her seat briefly to give me a reassuring tip of her lips before turning back to the front, where the judge shuffled through papers.
I pulled the folded letter out of my purse.
“Ms. Hoya,” I said quietly, getting Hazel’s attorney’s attention.
She turned to where Chuck and I sat.
“Ms. Miller, Mr. Larsen,” she greeted with her professional coolness.
“I brought the letter.” I handed the letter over the partition that divided the defense and prosecution from the audience.
Ms. Hoya reached over, taking it. “Thank you, Ms. Miller. We appreciate you doing this.”
A silent tear slipped down Hazel’s cheek. I gulped down the knot forming in my throat.
Ms. Hoya stood in front of the judge, presenting the character letter I had written and revised for my sister last night. My heart pounded when the judge accepted the letter, asking me to approach the bench and read it aloud.
I cleared my throat, my hands going clammy. “From the time I could walk, I wanted to be just like my big sister. She never once complained that her baby sister followed her around. In fact, she mothered me just as much as our mother did. She took care of me. She stood up for me with other kids, even with our own father at times. Our father and I never got along, and she was our buffer …”
I glanced over at Chuck, who gave me a reassuring look. I inhaled a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. It didn’t help that Hazel was sobbing into her hands.
“I never wanted to stay in Willows like she did, or maybe she felt that she had to because I didn’t. She supported my dream to move to a big city, to do something rewarding with my life. Our father always reminded me I was the disappointment. She knew if I didn’t leave, it would beat me down to the point where I may not have survived it. She didn’t want that for me, and she made sure I could leave, while she stayed.
“I wonder now if she would have left, too, if our mom hadn’t died, or if I had decided to stay. I think she might have felt obligated to stay for our father and for the town that loved her and named her their rodeo queen. I don’t know what happened over the last twelve years. I’m angry at myself for not making the effort to be there for her when she needed me most. She had always supported me, but selfishly, I never once supported her. When things got bad, she didn’t know where else to turn. She’d made the only choice she thought she could make—she prepared to leave the one place she called home. But Jesse Matheus wasn’t going to let her leave. No one should ever be forced to make this choice because they are unsafe.
“Whatever happens, whatever decisions are made in response to this case, I hope it can be handled with empathy for the sister I knew and with the thought in mind that sometimes we don’t know how to ask for help because we don’t know how to see the forest for the trees.”
I barely heard the judge thank Ms. Hoya and announce a recess to deliberate; I was focused on Hazel. Her head was buried in her hands, and her back shook. I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her hand like she had held mine so many times before.
The officers approached Hazel, guiding her to her feet to escort her out of the courtroom.
Dashing her hands against her cheeks, her eyes looked desperate for mine. When our gaze connected, she gave me a watery smile, mouthing, “Thank you.”
“Love you, sis,” I whispered as she was taken away.
Watching the officers lead her out, my heart fell. There was nothing left for me here. Not really.
“Am I still taking you to the airport?” Chuck asked.
When I turned to him, his caterpillar mustache was turned down. Was I doing the right thing?
“School already started this week, and they’ve had substitutes covering the class. They needed someone days ago.”
Yesterday, I called my school district when I saw that a position in high school history had gone unfilled. They immediately contacted my former principal and by dinnertime had offered me the job.
The administrator asked, “How soon can you get here?”
So I bought a ticket last night and packed my bags. This didn’t feel like the right decision, but I couldn’t stay.
I nodded, too afraid to look him in the eye.
“Well, let’s get you going then.”
Chuck sighed, and I followed him out to his truck.
For miles, we sat in silence, cruising down the Pass.
My cell phone vibrated in my purse. I peeked inside, seeing it light up with another text notification from Jude.
“Did you tell him?” Chuck asked, glancing over at me.
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to distract him from his fight.”
Chuck grunted, his hand squeaking on the leather steering wheel. “You know you have a home at Thornbrush whenever you want to come back.”
Tears stung my eyes and burned my throat. I stared out the windshield, the shaded road going blurry.
“Thank you, Chuck. I’m not sure what Jude wants, and maybe Jessica is it.”
Chuck tapped on the breaks, slowing us around a curve, but his foot hit it a little too hard, jarring me forward before he eased back up. “Jessica? His publicist? You think he and Jessica are together?”
I chanced a glance at him now. His lips tipped up in a smirk that was so reminiscent of Jude’s. My heart clenched—or what remained of it. I didn’t want to be here when he returned. It would be like ripping open a wound and pouring acid onto it.
“Romy Miller, you are a smart, young woman, but one thing you unfortunately have learned is to always think the worst of people. I know your father didn’t make it easy on you, neither did the kids at school?—”
My mouth hung open. How did he know?
“Jude tells me everything. There is nothing that doesn’t get past me. I can tell you two things—one, I’ve known Jude has been head over heels in love with you since he was fourteen, and two, he and Jessica would have never worked out.”
“How … how …” I couldn’t get the words out. Since he was fourteen? He and Jessica would have never worked out?
“Jude wants to build a life with someone, a family. He wants to be the dad he never had.”
“He had you, Chuck.” Those were the only words I could find. Deflecting, per usual.
“Yes, and he will always have me; we’re family. But he also has you. He chose you to be his family a long time ago. He’s just been hoping you’d also choose him.”
I slumped into my seat, resting my elbow against the door. My head flopped, landing in my palm. He and Jessica would have never worked out? He wanted a family with me? He chose me? He wanted me to choose him?
Yet here I was, not choosing him again because my own damn heart felt that running was the only option to protect itself.
“So what’s it going to be?” Uncle Chuck asked, passing beneath the airport sign as we hit the freeway.