29. Savannah
Chapter 29
Savannah
“ M iss Richmond, where is your lawyer?” The judge asks.
It is the third time the judge has asked if my attorney will show up in the last twenty minutes. The attorney Michael hired to take over my case is late for my hearing. My life is a literal sad, tragic comedy.
The tiny sliver of hope I had when I got out of the car, as the reporters were swarming and demanding to know if I thought I was going to be vindicated, disappears into thin air.
I know I should have fired him long ago, especially after I found out that he was seeing Alice. The hurt I felt finding them together, and then getting into my car and trying to convince myself that I was imagining the betrayal all over again.
It should have been enough for me to realize that I needed to stand up for myself.
Actually, it was. I just trusted the wrong people. Three times in a row.
But I didn’t have the means to find a good lawyer on my own.
After scouring the top firms and getting high quotes, I went to the low-budget ones and they were…well, openly pessimistic about the outcome of my case. Most informed me that it wasn’t too late to take a plea deal, something that I was never offered.
With my tail tucked between my legs, I went back to the attorney Michael had paid for. He assured me that he would do his best, but I never had confidence in him from the beginning.
“I should have represented myself if I knew this shit would go down,” I mutter. “There is no difference between doing that and having a lawyer that won’t show up on the final day of trial.”
“Are you in touch with your attorney, Miss Richmond?”
I can tell that the judge is nearing the end of her patience, and if I ever had some standing with the jury, I’ve lost it with this delay.
As I open my mouth to defend myself, the doors to the courtroom burst open.
I turn around, rolling my eyes and ready with a string of curse words brewing on my tongue only to end up with my jaw hanging open in complete shock.
The two people who walk in are none other than Michael Stone and Peter Richmond.
Michael catches my eye as he walks down the aisle, and he winks.
I am stunned at first, but when I recover, I am livid.
What on earth is he doing here? Did Alice send him to watch me go down in flames because she couldn’t make it?
Then he comes over to the defense’s table and takes a seat, and my anger turns to confusion. I see Peter sit in the front pew of the audience, and he winks at me too.
What in God’s name is happening in this courtroom right now?
Michael taps my arms. I turn to him, glaring with the fury of a thousand suns.
“I don’t know what this charade is, but you better have an explanation or you better cut this out,” I hiss.
“Cut what out?”
“This,” I spread out my arms. “Whatever this nonsense is. You said you wanted off my case. You assigned me to another lawyer, and now you’re here and he is nowhere to be found?”
He smiles.
But his smile drops when I glare at him.
“Okay. I will explain when this is over. Please? I am here to represent you.”
My laughter is so loud that the judge looks over at me and is not amused.
“What is going on?” The judge asks.
Adjusting his suit jacket, Michael stands up. “Your honor. I am representing Miss Savannah Richmond.”
She frowns, and her glasses slip down the bridge of her nose. “Miss Richmond, are you changing your counsel on the last day of trial? When the final evidence and closing remarks are to be made? You should know that this is highly irregular.”
I yank hard on Michael’s sleeve, forcing him to bend until my lips reach his ears. “If you are working with Alice, you’d better tell me right now. Because I swear, I will find a way out of prison, and I will haunt you for the rest of your life. Mark my words.”
He laughs.
The kind I used to know.
And like.
That made my heart flutter.
But I keep a frown on my face.
“I thought you told Peter that you don’t have any hope of winning my case?” I whisper harshly.
He yelps softly when I smack his arm. “Ow! I promise you, I am not working with or for Alice. I couldn’t explain it to you when you showed up, but I have been meeting with her because I know she’s the one who framed you,” he explains.
“I just needed to get proof, and now I have. I promise you, I won’t let you go to prison now or ever.”
For some reason, I am not shocked that Alice killed Brandon and framed me. What I am is curious as to why she did it. But I see the conviction in Michael’s eyes, and it reminds me of the time he reached for me in the car after they found the knife in my house.
How he told me that I would be vindicated in the end.
What is the worst that could happen?
I glance at Peter. He gives me a thumbs up.
I turn to the judge, swallowing hard as I nod. “Yes. I would like to change my counsel. I will go through any procedural requirements, and I apologize for the delay.”
She doesn’t look pleased, but I would rather incur her wrath than go to jail. My heart beats with the hope of freedom, and this time, I let it take flight.
The judge sighs. “Alright then. The court will take a twenty-minute recess so that the change can be implemented.”
Twenty minutes later, and with a stronger resolve, the trial resumes.
Michael approaches the bench.
“Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, I stand before you with a matter of utmost importance,” his words reverberate through the room, commanding attention, “On this final day of trial, I bring new evidence that has only recently come to light. Evidence that has the potential to change the entire course of this case.”
The courtroom fills with an electric buzz. And as expected, the prosecuting lawyer intervenes. They argue back and forth until Michael manages to prove to the judge that the evidence had only just come to light.
“With the court’s permission, I would like to introduce Exhibit A.”
He picks up an envelope from the stack of other items on the table after the judge gives him the go-ahead and he pulls out the knife.
Everyone gasps.
Even me.
Where did that knife come from, and what is its importance?
Michael, his lips set in a grim line, brandishes the knife for all to see. Then he opens his mouth—
“Esteemed members of the jury, what you see unfolding here is the accusation of an innocent person for a crime she did not commit, but, in fact, she is a victim of a deliberate framing. The revelations I am about to share will unmask the true perpetrator and those who colluded to cover up the facts surrounding this crime.”Top of Form
***
“Miss Richmond, how do you feel now that you have been exonerated?”
“Miss Richmond, did it shock you to find out that it was your friend who killed your ex-fiancé?”
“What do you plan to do now?”
They bombard me with questions as Michael flanks me on one side and Peter on the other, and we walk down the steps in front of the courthouse. The tears I shed after being found not guilty have all dried up after Michael handed me a handkerchief, saying that the reporters outside would want pictures.
We ignore them and their flashing cameras and manage to get into the car waiting for us. Peter takes the front seat while Michael and I sit in the back.
The first thing I do when the door closes is throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. I do it for gratitude and also because I have missed him terribly. He kisses me in return, and we block out the rest of the world, clinging to each other.
“Thank you,” I say, whispering when we break the kiss.
He kisses me again “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have kept everything a secret from you, and I know it hurt when you heard I had left the country, even more, when you saw me with Alice.”
I bite my lip. “It did. But I was also surprised to find out that she had help from Elaine Rogers. I knew the woman was desperate, but so desperate that she was willing to say the wounds were caused by the knife they found in my home?”
Her excuse was that the knife blades were too similar to tell the difference.
“And how you got her to tell you where the knife was? That was smart.”
I kiss him smartly on the mouth for that.
Michael turns a light shade of red. “Praise me too much, and I might start tooting my own horn.”
I roll my eyes. “Haven’t you always done that?”
“Yup,” he laughs.
“I will act like nothing is going on back there,” Peter says. “But you should know that I am in full support.”
Oops. I had forgotten we had an audience.
“Ah,” I rub my head, “I was excited,” I try to explain. “That is what happens when you find out that you aren’t going to prison.”
Peter laughs. “Sure. Michael has already confessed that he has feelings for you, and you…” he tsks, “this is one of the few things you cannot hide from me, sis.”
“Good,” I turn up my nose, trying to save face. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I only thought you’d be embarrassed seeing your best friend and sister kissing,” I say.
Michael is the one who chuckles. “Why is that good?”
“Because I’m not going to hide what I feel for you.”
“That’s good, then. Because I don’t want to hide the way I feel either. I want everyone to know how much I want you,” his eyes sparkle with something naughty and very attractive, and he doesn’t take them off me, “and how terrible the past weeks have been, pretending that I don’t need to see you every day.”
I purse my lips. “You sure did a good job of pretending. I really hated you.”
“You did?”
I nod. “Yup. You can ask Peter. I told him that I should have never trusted you because you walked away so you wouldn’t have to add me to your non-existent streak of losses.”
His hand touches my cheek. I lean into the warmth, reveling in the intimacy that I’ve missed so much.
“Oh honey,” he says softly, adding a long sigh, “permit me to brag a bit. I know when a case is going to be good before I even take it. And that doesn’t mean I don’t like challenges. I knew I wouldn’t let you go. I love you too much for that.”
I see the look of shock on his face as he says the words, the pause as he contemplates what to do with the confession, and then the breezy chuckle of acceptance.
“There. I’ve said it. I was wondering how long I could hold myself back because I’m someone who calculates everything before I take a new step. But I guess I love you too much.”
My chest blossoms with his words, and his truth inspires the same in me.
“I love you, too,” I say.
“You do?”
“Of course she does,” Peter says from the front. “You two have been whispering sweet nothings to each other for the better part of twenty minutes, now stop making me the third wheel.”
I reach forward and gently smack Peter on the back of the head. “Be quiet. If he wants to hear it a thousand times from me, then so be it,” I say.
He rubs the spot. “Ouch. You didn’t have to hit me that hard,” he kids. “But sure, you can go back to acting like I’m not here.”
Laughing, I pat his head a bit before turning to Michael again. “I guess things like this happen out of the blue for people like us. I remember when we went from two people who couldn’t stand each other to spending a lot of time in each other’s company.”
He nods. “And we like it that way.”
“Sure, we do.”
Peter clears his throat. “I said I wouldn’t let my presence be known, but this is something you might want to know, Savannah.”
“Okay?”
“I asked him not to reach out to you until the trial concluded, but he has been asking to meet with you. He says he wants to apologize,” his tone is hesitant. Cautious. “My mom too. It’s fine if you say no, but I thought you should know.”
I exhale.
Hearing that the same man who had made my life unbearable and taught me that I would be incompetent no matter what wants to meet me—sounds like a joke.
Especially after the time I called him, drunk and all he had to give were excuses.
Maybe that’s why I’m so skeptical.
Michael takes my hand, offering silent support.
“Okay.” I find myself saying.
“Okay?” Peter repeats.
I nod. “I mean, what could go wrong? If this is a front for something else, then it won’t shock me because I’ve heard everything there is from him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Peter adds. “And this time, I won’t let him get away with anything. My mom, either.”
Michael leans closer, his lips to my ear. “If you want me to be there, I will.
“I want you there,” I squeeze his hand. “Please.”
It feels encouraging knowing that the people who I love and consider as family will be there for me.
***
My breath hitches as we walk into the restaurant. Peter walks to the hostess to find the table.
I see him immediately, even though we are still standing at the door. The man I have known as my father my whole life, and also the person who made it almost unbearable to be a child, a happy teen, or a secure adult.
He looks in my direction, but I sharply glance away, taking a deep breath.
Michael kisses my hand. “Do you want to leave? If so, just say the word. You don’t owe anybody anything.”
I have to do this. I shake my head.
“I will be okay. I mean,” I smile, even though my heart is pounding, “I’ve got you and Peter. If I disown my father after today, you’ll adopt me, won’t you?”
He nods. “Yup. Will a ring do?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I’m sure I heard him right. But my mind is too focused on something else to deal with Michael’s slip-up now.
Peter returns. “Okay, this way. They’ll take us to their table. I asked the waitstaff to come by in five minutes with a bottle of something strong because I sense we will all be needing a stiff drink.”
I, for one, will be needing more than one.
My father gets up as soon as we reach his table, and his wife does the same.
“Savannah.”
For the first time since I’ve known the man, his voice is subdued. He sounds like a beaten man, weak and repentant. It doesn’t make me let my guard down.
“Dad.” I force out the single syllable.
“Savannah,” his wife says.
I acknowledge her with a nod.
We sit down.
“I-I don’t know what to say or where to start, or even if I have the right to,” he begins. “I’m sorry. For everything. I have been terrible to you, disregarding your accomplishments, comparing you to Peter when I should have been celebrating each of you independently, and…for everything else.”
His words neatly summarize everything he’s done to me, but it doesn’t even begin to make up for the pain I’ve endured.
“And Brandon. I should never have pushed you to marry him. I knew he wasn’t the best—that you deserved more, and yet,” he shakes his head, “I was adamant.”
The waiter comes with a bottle of bourbon and pours it into three glasses, adding ice. I pick one and take a good sip, letting the liquid slide down and then burn the back of my throat. It chases the tears that gather in my eyes away, leaving me clear-eyed.
“I have done you wrong, too,” his wife says. “I never spoke up for you, even when I knew what you were feeling—as any mother would. I regretted it when you went away to college, and now still.”
Fuck it.
No matter how hard I try to hide the tears, I find them trailing down my cheeks. Michael’s hand squeezes tightly around mine, and I swallow thickly.
A cacophony of emotions swirls in me so fast I don’t know where one starts and the other ends. I only know that they make it hard to breathe or see.
“I don’t have the right to ask for forgiveness,” my father goes on. “But if you give me a chance to make things right, I’ll spend the rest of my life doing so.”
“How?” I bite, unable to keep anger from my voice. “And why? Why the sudden change of heart? Was it because Peter threatened to disown you? That your perfect son was going to leave?”
They are quiet for a minute.
But the minute is enough to tell me the truth.
I grab my glass, and the rest of the bourbon goes down my throat.
Hot tears sting the back of my eyes even as the waterworks flow.
“Right,” I purse my lips. “It took Peter’s threat to make you see what you had been doing wrong?”
Blinking sharply, I get up. “I knew this was a mistake. I have to go. Don’t worry, though. Peter won’t be doing anything. I don’t plan to take him from you.”
Fingers hold my arm as I make to leave, and I turn around to see my father standing behind me and he takes my hand.
“I know we were wrong, and we should have seen it before, but I promise you. We had a long talk about it, and we realized we didn’t do right by you. We want to do better. Help us.”
I shake his hand loose. “No. I’m not going to help you. If you don’t know how to treat your own daughter well, then you don’t deserve me.”
I know that Peter and Michael are behind me as I storm out of the restaurant, so I don’t bother turning until I get outside.
When I turn around, the tears have dried from my eyes, and the only thing left is acceptance.
“I shouldn’t have let him see my tears,” I say to no one in particular. “He didn’t deserve that, and neither did she.”
“You’re right,” Peter says. “They don’t deserve you. If it is because of me that they realized what they lost with you, then you are better off without them. I am, too. However, you are allowed to show whatever emotions you feel,” his voice rings with a pinch of anger, “and nobody has a say in it.”
I laugh softly. “You know, it feels good to have you stick up for me. It makes me feel good, thank you.”
Michael, who has not said anything since we sat at the table, takes me by surprise as he pulls me into his arms for a hug and holds me tight.
“I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “I don’t care if your father doesn’t see what I see. I don’t care if no one sees what I see in you. Like you said, I’ll adopt you. Let me be the one person you can undoubtedly trust, Savannah.”
“Shit.”
I sniff, blinking hard. “I thought I was done with the waterworks, but you sure know how to make a woman cry, Michael Stone.”
He moves back so he can see my face. “Happy tears?”
I grin and nod. “Yeah. Happy tears.”
“That’s good.”
“I’ll catch my ride from here,” Peter says.
“Why? Aren’t you coming with us?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and there is a look of painful nostalgia that I relate to. The understanding that we spent decades riddled with misunderstanding when we could have been there for each other.
“You two need some time alone. And you forget that I am a partner at a prestigious law firm, which entitles me to have a driver. Besides,” he adds, “I need to have a word with my parents. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”
Michael hugs him, and then I do too. Then we wave to him before Michael and I get in the car.
I rest my head on Michael’s shoulder, closing my eyes as the car begins to move. There is a feeling of relief that flows through my body, and I am suddenly exhausted, the emotions of the day catching up with me.
For the first time, I am calm.
Content.
At peace.