11. Rochelle
11
ROCHELLE
A nticipation builds inside me as I open the heavy chrome-and-glass doors of Grey and Reeves, a top law firm. My lawyer, who Frederick says is among the best when it comes to family law, will be meeting with me today to go over a plan to get my mother’s things back from Steve.
“I’m here to meet with Amyra Singh,” I tell the doe-eyed receptionist. She brushes a strand of ice-blonde hair out of her eyes and gives me a serene smile.
“Right away,” she says, picking up the phone. Her French manicure gleams under the soft LED lighting, and I hide my own chipped nails behind my back.
A few clipped words later, and I’m informed that Ms. Singh will be out shortly to meet with me.
“Ms. Reynolds, please follow me.” I look up to see Amyra standing in front of me. She’s a tall, thin Indian woman, with long brown hair and a cute sloping nose. Her royal blue suit is coordinated with her vivid red lipstick and large blue and gold earrings dangle from each ear.
I follow her into her office, trying to keep up with her fast pace. She slips behind a large, ornate oak desk and gestures for me to sit in the plush, cream-colored leather chair in front of it. I sink down and place my hands on my lap, butterflies ricocheting against my insides.
“So, I have good news and bad news,” Amyra begins, folding her hands together. “I’ll give you the bad first. Your ex-stepfather has been largely unresponsive since I set out the letter. He refuses to return any calls or reply to my emails. I don’t think we can expect much cooperation from him.”
I exhale slowly, nodding. “That’s probably good news if that’s the bad news. Steve was never going to make this easy for me.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Reynolds. Your stepfather is nothing I haven’t dealt with before, hundreds of times. A retired cop who thinks he’s judge, jury, and executioner. He has zero chance of escaping this without repercussions.”
A smile rises on my face, and I smooth a hand over my pants. “So what do we do next?”
“We’re going to file suit and serve him with legal papers. Your mother’s will clearly states that she has left everything to you. His withholding those possessions is against the law. Even if he won’t part with them willingly, he can’t do anything once I serve him.”
My eyes widen.
“A court order will go a long way to put him on a tight leash. Rest assured that I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are reunited with the last mementos you have of your mother.”
Her smile is bright, and she reaches out to pat my hand. “I know this is a scary and frustrating time, but let me take care of this for you. I can handle Steve Harcourt.”
“Okay.” I want to trust her. She certainly seems like she knows what she's doing. Trusting her feels like trusting Frederick, too.
“Wonderful. Hopefully, we don’t have to go to trial but if we do, I imagine you wouldn’t have to be there at the same time as your ex-stepfather.”
“Thank God. I never want to see him again if I can help it.”
“That bad?”
“Worse. He made my life a living nightmare growing up. I wish my mother had never met him. He was worse with her. She protected me from most of the physical stuff. But he was horrible, really nasty to me, and he would use his buddies on the force to intimidate my mom to keep her from leaving.”
“Wow. I’m sorry you went through that. You must have had some happy memories with your mother, though, if you want your things back from him.”
“I do,” I say, smiling a little as I recall the hazy memories of the days before Steve came into our lives. “Before they got married, it was just me and my mom. She and I would walk to the park in our hometown together every Sunday. We’d get ice cream on the way home and talk about what I learned in school that week.”
“Sounds like the two of you were very close.”
“We were. But when she met Steve, everything changed. It didn’t happen right away. I was happy for my mom at first. I mean, I was glad she found someone. But then it got scary. I thought maybe she’d get away from him. We did, one time.”
My throat feels tight, yet Amyra’s steady gaze makes me keep going. “We packed our things and took off in the middle of the night when he was out working a night shift. Took everything we could carry. We lived in a rat-infested hotel for two weeks, but it was the best two weeks of my life.”
“Wow. What happened?” Amyra asks, her steady eyes softening.
“Steve used his connections in law enforcement to track us down. He pretty much demanded that my mom come home or he’d get me sent away with CPS. Mom was terrified to lose me so she agreed.”
Tears blur my vision. “He pretended to apologize, told her things would be different. But then I came home from school and she had a black eye and a sprained wrist. I knew he was never going to change.”
“I work with women in your position all the time, women who have been through similar stories, but it never gets easier to hear.” Amyra offers me a tissue.
“It’s why I got into practicing law,” she adds. “My own mom had a similar story with her stepfather. Seeing him control her – even years after she was already out of the house – made me vow to do whatever I could to help women like her. And like you.”
“That’s amazing.” I sniffle, wiping my face.
“You’re amazing. Going up against the man who made your childhood hell? That takes courage. All I’m doing is giving him legal troubles.”
I never thought about it like that. I’d spent so long feeling weak for running away at the first chance, but Amyra’s right. I’m a different person now, and it took strength to get here.
“So, what else do we need to do?” I ask. “Steve can be crafty. I want to make sure that things are airtight for us.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to hit him where it hurts. In the reputation. Men like that live off the glory of being a cop, retired or not. If he forces this to trial, all the things he did to your mother will come up. Everyone will get to hear how this stand-up guy beat on his wife and tried to swindle his stepdaughter out of her inheritance.”
For some reason, I can’t quite stomach the idea of facing all his buddy cops in court if that happens. The anxiety must be written on my face because Amyra shakes her head.
“Don’t worry. That is the last thing that Steve would want. So, he’ll give in long before that happens, hopefully. But if it does go to trial, I’ll be right there by your side to protect you.”
I feel strange finally having someone in my corner after all these years who can help me fight back against my ex-stepfather. I want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“How did you meet Frederick?” I ask. I want to know where he found this woman.
“We met in law school, actually. We weren’t really friends or anything, we weren’t close, but we had several classes together and were in the same study group.”
“What was he like in law school?” I ask, suddenly curious.
“Oh. Quiet. Studious. Took things seriously.” She grins. “But he’s a good man. I can see why you two are together.”
I almost forgot that technically we’re engaged. Or almost engaged, I guess. “Uh, yeah. He’s very protective of the people he cares about.”
“For sure. He was like that in school, too. His best friend and I went on a date once, and you’d think Frederick was his father the way he wanted to check on my intentions.”
That sounds like him. I find myself grinning at the idea of him being protective of his friend like that. It’s sweet how much he cares.
I check my watch and realize I’ve got a shift at work in an hour. “I need to get going,” I tell Amyra.
“I’ll send another certified letter to Steve and inform him that if he doesn’t send your things within the next two weeks, he’ll see us in court.”
“Thank you again,” I say as I stand up. “I appreciate it so much.”
“Any time,” Amyra says, offering her hand. I shake it and smile.
Things are looking up. But is handling Steve really going to be as easy as Amyra thinks?