Chapter 5
Biology Class
Day 3
“Everything alright over there, Ivy and Dax?” Mr. Gray asked.
I looked at Dax, who was staring at me, his too-cool-for-school persona looking a bit disheveled, before I glanced toward my teacher, wincing inside at his obvious disappointment.
“We’re good,” I said, trying to sound chipper. “Just had a scalpel malfunction.”
I turned my attention back to my desk, feeling the weight of this entire dumb class all on my shoulders.
“A scalpel malfunction,” the idiot beside me repeated in my ears. “That’s a generous interpretation.”
Suddenly, I had him. I knew I did. If we were playing poker, he had tell—a crack in his exterior. Though it felt like an angle my dad would try…desperate times and all that. I needed an A in this class, and Dax needed his butt handed to him.
I angled my body toward his. “Hey, Dax,” I whispered.
He moved closer, his arms leaning on the desk, feigning great interest in what I had to say. “Yeah?”
“Pick up that scalpel and start dissecting that frog right now, or I promise that next time I will throw up, and I know just where to aim.”
“I could just leave now.” His eyebrows raised .
“You could,” I stated, my voice low and controlled. “But then, for the rest of your life, you’d remember how dumb you were to let twelve years of school go to waste instead of just sticking it out for a few more months, putting in a little effort, and getting your freaking diploma.”
The air between us came to a sudden halt. I sat, inwardly gaping at what I’d just said to Dax Miller. I waited, with bated breath to see how he would react.
After a long moment, the sides of his mouth lifted, and he eventually moved to pick up the shiny instrument. With long fingers, stained with marks of grease, he brought the frog closer.
Dax’s brow furrowed as he paused and leaned closer, peering at something on the lifeless body.
“Gross. This one’s still juicy.”
“What? He shouldn’t be.” I cautiously leaned closer.
He waited until I had my head at just the right distance before he inserted his scalpel at just the right angle and with just the right amount of pressure to send a squirt of frog juices in a perfect line through the air and directly onto my cheek.
I sat in the courtroom with my foot twitching uncontrollably. Next to me, the foot of my dad’s attorney was not moving at all. Will Frost sat cool as a cucumber, every strand of gray hair perfectly in place, a placid smile, and his long fingers sitting atop his slightly rounded stomach. A direct contrast to my shallow breathing and torn fingernails. The whole walk to the courthouse had been surreal. It felt like I was watching somebody else’s life implode.
My friend, Jane, had lent me an outfit. The clothes in my overnight bag had been severely lacking in courtroom chic . The flowy floral dress from Jane looked fashionable and gorgeous on her, but it didn’t feel like me, which had me fighting the urge to fidget even more than I already was.
My dad had a meeting on the mainland today, which thankfully explained his absence this morning. He’d been very present yesterday, however, when we’d spent an hour with Mr. Frost, going over the plan for court. What to say. What not to say. And all of it in direct contrast to the feelings in my gut.
Beau, the cop, was now sitting behind me, looking dashing in his blue uniform. He shook my hand and gave me a friendly smile.
My attorney leaned toward me, whispering with minty-fresh breath, “Remember, after you tell the judge your plea, let me do the talking. He’ll set another court date, and then the meeting should adjourn. Next time we meet, we’ll have everything in place to get the charges severely reduced or dropped entirely.”
He oozed confidence, reminding me so much of my dad it was hard not to cringe.
His mouth kept moving, but my unfortunate attention was pulled behind me by the entrance of one Dax Miller—in a blue button-up shirt and khaki pants, I might add. He was in clothes that covered his body and pants that didn’t have grease stains. That warranted a second look. Even his hair was…styled, in a sexy-actor-on-the-big-screen-winning-over-the-jury type of way.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. My attorney specifically said that this was a case brought against me by the state. Not Dax. So why was he here?
“Hey, man,” Dax said to Beau as he stood, and they did a weird hand-slap-shake thing. I tried to ignore it, but it was hard to not see it all out of the corner of my eye, even while looking at my lawyer spouting words at me. I wanted to give him my full concentration, but there was too much happening behind me.
“You see that game the other night?” Beau mumbled to Dax, and I wanted to cry in annoyance. Why was he here?
“Had it on at the shop.”
I knew that the reason I was sitting in court was my own fault, but somehow it felt very unprofessional to have the guy whose shop I accidentally smashed into be friends with the cop who had given my citation. They could at least keep it under wraps in the courtroom. My lawyer’s attention gravitated to something on his phone, and I turned back around in my seat. But their words kept finding me.
“How’s the shop? That tarp hanging in there okay with all the wind we’ve been getting?”
“Barely. It’s almost a full-time job keeping it secure.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I actually spend a lot of nights crying myself to sleep. Tears. Tissues. Everything.”
I scoffed out loud but refused to turn around.
“The Lego car?”
“The Lego car,” Dax agreed solemnly.
“It’s a crying shame,” Beau remarked.
“What if I had been standing in front of those windows? She would have plowed over me like a lawnmower.”
“You’re too pretty for that,” Beau said.
“That’s what I thought.”
Even as I shook my head, a smile itched to escape, though I held it in. That was why he was here. Dax would never pass up a front-row seat to my utter humiliation.
I turned around to meet two guys both holding back smiles at the same time. They had clearly been awaiting my reaction. Using a few specific words, I told them exactly where they both could go, resulting in laughs from both of them.
“Did you hear that language? It’s no wonder she ended up here,” Dax said to Beau.
“Did you brush off the old courtroom outfit from your days as a juvenile delinquent?” I asked Dax pleasantly now that I had his attention.
“You know what’s good about being a juvenile delinquent?”
I leaned forward, pretending great interest. “What’s that?”
“A squeaky-clean record as an adult. I don’t know if you’ll be able to say the same after this. ”
“I highly doubt you have a squeaky-clean anything.”
Ew. That sounded much better in my head. Now I had to watch Beau laugh and a smile crawl across Dax’s face.
“I haven’t had any complaints,” he said.
Thankfully, a loud voice told the courtroom to stand.
“Good luck,” he whispered to me. “I’d better go to my side of the court.” Then, he meandered toward the chairs behind the prosecuting attorney.
“You need to stand up,” my lawyer instructed. I yanked my eyes off Dax and stood as a door in the front opened, and the Honorable Judge Henry Baylor strode into the room. He sat on his chair and motioned for us to sit down with a wave of his big paw. I straightened in my seat. I had never seen him in his official black robe. He used to be a regular at Sunrise Cafe when I was in high school. He’d been enthusiastic about the cafe food, and we’d grown a friendly rapport. He was a kind man, I knew that for certain. But he also could be a bit…eccentric. Like…some days for breakfast he would order a waffle with a side of cheeseburger.
Soo…here goes nothing.
“Take your seats,” Mr. Baylor said. He straightened some papers at his desk before looking up and meeting my gaze with his curious eyes.
“I was surprised to see your name on the list, Ms. Brooks. Quite the lead foot you have.”
Shame filled my entire body to the point that I wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor.
“Yes, Your Honor. Sorry about…this. I— It was an accident.”
“Stop talking,” my attorney whispered in my ear. I took a breath as my hands grew jittery. Already, I had forgotten all the details of how I was supposed to act in court.
Judge Baylor’s focus moved over to where Dax was sitting, his low drawl as much of a character trait as the twinkle in his eye. “I see we have Mr. Miller here today. Have you been keeping out of trouble?”
“Trying my best, Your Honor.” Dax nodded toward me. “It found me, though.”
Judge Baylor wheezed a laugh, his shoulders shaking merrily. “I’d say.” He nodded toward Beau and the two attorneys in the room before he sighed.
“Let’s get to it, then.” He cleared his throat and looked at me. “For the record, is your name Caroline Ivy Brooks?”
Okay, right out of the gate with my grandmother’s name. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“You are being charged with driving under the influence on the evening of Friday, June 7 th . How do you plead?”
At my hesitation, my attorney gave me an expectant look. The not-so-friendly pep talk from my dad at breakfast this morning ran quickly through my mind. I had a job and research lined up in Tennessee that I needed to be back for. Staying on the island was simply not an option. I’d worked too hard to gain my independence only to be sucked back into my dad’s orbit. He couldn’t play mental games with me in Nashville. At least, not as easily. Besides, I couldn’t afford to stay in town for the court dates required if I were to plead not guilty.
I had been driving under the influence, no matter how innocently it had happened. It was my fault. Pleading guilty was the honorable thing to do, and could my public saint of a father really dispute that? And if it so happened that I got to pay a quick fine for being willing to make things right and fast-track my buns out of Sunset Harbor, so be it.
“Ms. Brooks?” the judge asked again, giving me the nudge I needed to state my case.
“Guilty, Your Honor.”
There was a gaping pause in the courtroom. Will Frost turned his head sharply at my statement, but I ignored him, focusing on Judge Baylor. The judge’s brows raised slightly, and I shifted in my seat as his gaze focused on me.
“Guilty,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said, the end of my sentence coming out like a question. Across the aisle, I could feel Dax’s gaze on me, but I kept my focus trained forward.
“I see. Do you currently reside in Sunset Harbor, Ms. Brooks?”
“No.”
“Where do you live?”
“Nashville.”
“And what do you do in Nashville?”
I hesitated before phrasing this next part very carefully. “I’ve been working at Vanderbilt University.”
“A professor?”
“I’m working on a postdoctorate, Your Honor. But I hope to be a professor soon.”
His eyes were twinkly as he gave a low whistle. “I always knew you’d do good things.” He sobered for a second. “You know, except for this.”
A soft snort came from Dax’s direction. I lifted my chin a fraction but gave him no mind.
“What are your summers like, with your university?” he asked me.
“Mainly filled with research. Later this summer, I’m set to teach a class.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Later, you say?”
It was his piercing stare and his weighted words that suddenly brought me up short. I couldn’t put my exact finger on what he wanted from me, but I instinctively knew that it might be in my best interest to be extremely busy this coming summer.
“The class starts at the beginning of August, but I need to be—“ He held up his hand to stop my onslaught, but I was half panicking at this point. “Mr. Baylor, I?—”
“Your Honor,” my attorney hissed in my ear, though he rested his head in his hands next to me.
“Your Honor,” I added in a rush, “I have some money in savings. I’m happy to pay for all the damage.” I shot a side glance to find Dax watching me, leaning forward in his seat with his arms folded casually across his stomach and a somewhat curious expression on his face. “I feel terrible about Da—Mr. Miller’s shop. I’m happy to make everything right. So just let me know how much to pay, and I?—”
“Ms. Brooks,” Judge Baylor’s soft drawl broke into my furious onslaught. “Thank you. I have no doubt we will make it right. It’s just deciding…how, exactly.” He looked at Dax. “Mr. Miller, how are you doing over there?”
“I’m good, Judge.” Dax gave the judge an easy smile. “How’s that golf cart holding up?”
“It’s been running fine, thanks to you.”
It was that exact moment—watching Dax and Judge Baylor with their easy rapport together, probably from Dax’s past misdemeanors, that I knew my summer was about to blow up in my face.
Judge Baylor tapped his chin for a long moment. “You know. We’re all here right now. Let’s figure this out. This isn’t usually how it’s done, but it is my courtroom.”
“Mr. Miller, beyond the cost of the windows, was there any other damage to the structure of the building? Marks on the floor, damage to the back wall? Any landscaping ruined?”
“There was no damage to the actual structure of the building. Just the windows. Insurance will take care of that, so we should be good there.” I breathed a bit easier. So far, Dax didn’t seem to be throwing me under the bus, which meant I should probably be wary.
“Now, I’m going to ask about the thing that has me, and I’m sure most of the town, concerned. The Lego car. How can we make it right?”
All my do-gooder attitude went completely out the window as I gaped at the judge who was looking toward Dax with a definite twinkle in his eyes. I threw Dax a pleading look, but he kept his gaze averted.
“That’s what has me most concerned as well, Your Honor. All the pieces survived, but the structure was completely destroyed.”
Really? Most concerned? Half of his building was wrapped in a tarp.
“How many hours do you think were spent on the initial construction of the car?” Judge Baylor asked.
“My brother and I worked on it for a few hours after school for probably a year. Two hundred hours’ worth of time, I’d guess.” With that statement, Dax glanced at me, and there was a definite gleam hidden in his eyes behind the fake Boy Scout persona he seemed to have donned for today’s court date.
“Judge Baylor,” I began, my hand at my heart. “I’m happy to pay to fix whatever damage I caused,” I said, panic raising my voice all while my attorney shook his head, hardly sparing me a glance. “As for the Lego car, I can hire somebody to rebuild it. I’m guessing Orlando has guys that could do it in their sleep.”
The Legoland guys would take a credit card, right?
“With all due respect, Your Honor,” Dax began, standing up and clutching his chest with one hand. “Maybe Ms. Brooks is used to just flinging money around to cover up her mistakes, but money can’t replace what was lost. Not in this case.”
My body tightened as I stared at him.
“Where’s the line? How is she supposed to learn her lesson if she just writes a check anytime she makes a mistake?”
To my utter horror, Judge Baylor began nodding in agreement.
“I mean,” Dax drawled on while I dug my nails into the armrest, “how is she ever going to learn to never drink and drive again if we just let her write a check and be on her way? The way she lost control?—“
“I wasn’t drinking!” I stood up, my hands at my waist.
“Shhhh,” my lawyer whispered furiously, hopelessly mortified because his lady doth protest too much.
“You were under the influence, Ms. Brooks,” the judge said.
“Right. Yes. But it was an accident,” I protested.
“I, for one, believe the children in this good town would feel safer if?—”
“Mr. Miller?”
Dax paused in his stride. “Yes, sir?”
“Sit down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dax sat down and shot me a glance so brimming with mischief my stomach tightened with nerves. He was playing me. Playing the judge. Playing everybody. Getting his reactions. This wasn’t about the car. It couldn’t be. This was about him wanting nothing more than to mess with me.
The next few minutes were spent watching a ping pong match go down in the courtroom between both attorneys. Realizing he didn’t have much choice but to go along with my plea, Mr. Frost began arguing back and forth between the prosecuting attorney about negligence versus recklessness. How it was my first and only offense. I sat back in my chair while the scene played out around me, unable to do anything but watch with growing unease.
Mr. Frost elbowed me lightly in the arm. When I glanced at him, he nodded toward the judge. “He’s talking to you.”
My attention shot back to the judge to find that yes, he had indeed been talking to me. “Sorry, Your Honor. What was that?”
Judge Baylor closed his eyes briefly before saying, “Wasn’t it you who worked in the cafe when you lived here? Back in high school, right? I think I remember you. You were a good waitress.”
I was confused, and also slightly flattered he remembered, but I tried not to show it as I answered him. “Yes. That was me. I worked there for three years.”
He nodded, and I wondered if that was just small talk, like how he and Dax had chatted about his golf cart. It had been ten years since I hung up my apron at the cafe. I was surprised he remembered.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I think I may have the solution for our predicament.”
Predicament? As long as I was willing to fork out the check, it seemed like there didn’t have to be a predicament at all, but I knew better than to say that out loud. Instead, I kept my gaze focused on Judge Baylor and any emotions off of my face.
“For your information,” he began, looking at me, “Harold and Judy, the owners of the Sunrise Cafe here in town, have had to take a significant amount of time off due to Harold receiving cancer treatments off the island. My wife received word from Judy the other day that they’ll be detained for a couple of months. They might be in and out, but the cafe is in need of some help, and we as a community are determined to keep them up and running.”
My mind reeled at this information. Harold and Judy were basically my second parents all through high school. Harold, the sweet man who used to quiz me on math problems and showed up to my volleyball games, was fighting cancer.
“Ms. Brooks, I mentioned the cafe because I’m hopeful that, while you are here rebuilding what you’ve broken, you’ll also give some of your time to help at the cafe. Since you’re already somewhat familiar with how the restaurant runs, I can’t help but think it would be a great way to give back to the community you’ve wronged. Is this something you are able to do?”
I swallowed and nodded, my brain having a hard time registering everything he was saying before he spoke again—leveling me completely.
“So, with that in mind, Ms. Brooks, in regard to your charge of driving under the influence in the town of Sunset Harbor, I sentence you to ninety days in jail. But I will suspend all ninety days and put you on probation for twelve months. I also impose a fine to the court for the cost of $500. You will serve two hundred hours of community service, to be performed within the next seven weeks. All two hundred hours will go toward helping Mr. Miller rebuild his Lego car and whatever else his business stands in need of. Since this is your first offense in the courts, Ms. Brooks, I will withhold adjudication.”
I stared at the judge in growing trepidation, a hand over my mouth.
“Adjudication?” I whispered frantically to my attorney. “What does that mean?”
“He’ll remove the charge from your record after you pay your fines and serve your hours,” he whispered back. “That’s very generous.”
I sat back in my chair. Two hundred hours of community service.
To Dax Miller.
The judge went on about how teaching a lesson to the community in times like these was important. Getting our hands dirty to fix what we had broken was a trait this nation was losing a generation at a time.
Not on Judge Baylor’s watch.
“I’m aware this is an unusual sentence, Ms. Brooks.” The judge’s kind eyes peered out of his spectacles. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Questions? Sure. I had questions. But none that he could answer.
Judge Baylor had a standing golf tee time once a week with my dad. He was one of many in the community who only knew the politician side of Senator Brooks. The side that could charm, and schmooze, and golf with the best of them. The side that showed up to funerals of people he had barely tolerated while pretending to grieve and spouting flowery things to all. The side that cut ribbons, made deals, shook hands, and said all the right things. The side that would never forgive me if I were to ask the judge how he expected me to live in my dad’s home for seven weeks.
Brookses don’t make mistakes.
“Ms. Brooks? Any questions?” the kind voice of the judge sentencing me to the worst possible punishment for a crime I didn’t mean to commit asked again.
This time, I smiled bright and channeled my dad. “No, Your Honor. I’m happy to serve my time. I’m grateful for the opportunity to right what I accidentally wronged.” There we go. All things considered, dear old dad would have to be proud of that answer.
Did I look at Dax Miller after I said that?
Nope.
“Alright, then.” There was a squeak of movement in Judge Baylor’s chair as he adjusted his position. “Your service hours start tomorrow. I’ll let you and Mr. Miller work out the details. And I will inform the cafe they now have some extra help they can count on.” He gave me a broad smile before smacking his gavel.
Court adjourned. My life upended. For a long moment, I sat there, soaking it all in. To re-cap, I could have had jail time but instead got community service for a crime I hadn’t meant to commit but did. Judge Baylor called Dax Miller a good man. I was now a…criminal…I guess? And I was left wondering what planet I had accidentally landed on from my hellish plane ride three days earlier.
After shaking hands with my lawyer and thanking Beau for…being here, I guess…I fumbled with my purse while Dax saun tered my way. I was tempted to take off toward the front doors, but I knew I’d have to face him eventually.
Like…tomorrow.
“Well, that was entertaining, Caroline.”
I folded my arms and leveled him with a warning stare. “It’s Ivy.”
“I was reminded how fun it is to watch you under pressure,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, and thank you so much for making sure I couldn’t just pay you and leave.”
“I thought we could build a legacy of togetherness.”
It was the way he so casually used part of my dad’s campaign slogan against me that had me turning my annoyance into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. I would be here for seven weeks. The worst had already happened. His words couldn’t touch me now.
“Did you get that out of your system?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. What time are you coming to work?”
I leaned over to adjust the back strap of my sandal, feigning an attitude of nonchalance. “I’ll see if I can do a morning shift at the cafe and come to your place in the afternoon.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know, I’m kind of excited you’ll be back at the cafe again. I haven’t had a mediocre cup of coffee for about ten years now.”
My hands found my hips. “First of all, I made good coffee. Second, I will buy you your own coffee machine if it means you’ll stay out of the cafe while I work there.”
He made a face. “No can do, Books. I’m incredibly lazy about making coffee. See you tomorrow,” he said before striding toward the front door, leaving me wishing my cousin had chosen anywhere else on this planet to have gotten married.