Chapter 6 #2
Dad had never cared much for Rhett. Despite pushing me to find a nice young man and settle down, he hadn’t wanted that man to be Rhett.
Especially after he turned his back on my father’s plan for him and decided to become a teacher instead of a lawyer.
Dad had no patience for people who didn’t keep their word, and Rhett had shown his meant nothing.
Dad had lost both his parents as a boy and because of that, his family was his first, and most important, priority.
He was protective to a fault and his desire to pave a smooth path for me had definitely made my life more comfortable, if not easier.
Because in his need to keep me safe, he also kept me under his thumb.
I had learned from an early age that it was better to accept my fate than fight it.
Trying to forge my own path never got me very far, anyway.
Even still, my father was a man with a strong moral compass, yet he was also the same man who got me out of my first speeding ticket. For Dad, most things were black and white—except where his wife and daughters were concerned. Then things were a hazy shade of gray.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do if he felt his family’s well-being—and his reputation—was on the line. It made him wildly unpredictable in the worst possible way. But it also comforted me to have the steady reassurance that no matter how bad it got, Dad was there to take care of it.
“No,” Dad said. “He’s still at the station. Lucinda, he’s been arrested.”
I sat down heavily on my bed, not sure what to say. “Okay.”
“I just got off the phone with Glynn. He’s still down there—”
“Wait, you’re not with him?” I frowned in confusion. “Where are you?”
I heard my father’s exasperated sigh on the other end. He hated to be questioned about anything. “Well, I wasn’t going to stand around at the police station with my thumb up my ass. There was nothing I could do. Chuck wouldn’t talk to me.”
Normally, Chuck wouldn’t make a move without consulting my father.
He ran every case by Dad, wanting his advice.
They had been best friends since elementary school.
But clearly, if Charles Young was keeping his lips sealed, this was serious.
Uncle Chuck only played by the rules when too many eyes were on him.
“I was able to speak briefly with Betty Poole,” he went on. “She’s the pretrial services officer, but she wasn’t any help. I was all but frozen out.”
I knew he wasn’t used to not being able to wield his power and influence. He had built his career on his connections, and they had failed him. It seemed to have rattled his confidence.
“What does that mean, Dad?”
“It means that this is serious. If Chuck isn’t talking to me, it means people will be paying close attention and my hands will be tied. I don’t like not knowing what’s coming. It’s not how I operate. I like to plan for every outcome.” His frustration at his impotence was palpable.
“What can I do?” I asked, my voice firm with resolve. I wasn’t the kind of person to fall apart. Ever.
“Not much at the moment. Rhett’s being held until his bail hearing.
I asked Betty why the wait, and she gave me some song and dance about Harry Balfour being down in Georgia until Tuesday.
She claimed she couldn’t put it on the docket until after the judge was back.
I can tell you, it’s bad for Rhett that he’s been assigned the case.
He’s hated me ever since I had him thrown out for contempt when he was a shitty defense attorney. ”
I had heard the story before. There were only a few people in Fern River impervious to my father’s charms and influence, and Judge Balfour was one of them.
“But maybe,” Dad continued, “this will give that husband of yours time to think about his actions.”
My dad was a “tell like it is” man. You always got the truth from him, whether you wanted it or not.
“Listen, Lucinda, you were Rhett’s alibi fifteen years ago.
It was one of the main reasons I was able to dampen the heat on him so quickly.
Chuck believed me—and you—when you said the two of you were together.
I stupidly never asked if there were holes in that story.
Whether anyone could contradict what you told me.
But, I’m asking you now. Were there any times you and Rhett weren’t together?
Could someone have seen him? Could this supposed eyewitness be legitimate? ”
“I’m not a liar, Dad,” I insisted, inserting enough offense for my dad to know how upset I was by the question.
Another silence. This one was longer and heavier than before.
“It sounds like this eyewitness is credible and they have evidence—”
“I’m sure they do,” I scoffed, my voice laden with sarcasm.
“Lucinda, I think you need to start preparing yourself,” Dad said.
“I’ve always done everything I can to protect this family—my family.
Because you were committed to that man, I kept him out of it.
I used my name and my connections to make sure he never saw the inside of a courtroom—against my better judgment.
I shouldn’t have bothered. It would have saved us all a lot of grief.
Because if the evidence is as strong as I suspect, then Rhett might be on his own this time.
I’m not sure there’s anything I can do now. ”
Part of me knew this day would come. My dad was talking about wiping his hands of all this. Of Rhett.
“What makes this different from before?” It was a simple question, but a pointed one. I never contradicted my father. I trusted him completely. But I wondered what his motives were at this point.
“Lucinda, you know I’ll look out for you and Kenz.
Rhett may be your husband, but he’s not my blood.
He’s done nothing but hurt and disappoint you and put my family at risk.
I only ever wanted you to be safe and happy and I thought he could, at the very least, give you that.
But I was wrong. I should have listened to my gut and not your tears.
Then we wouldn’t be here,” Dad reminded me coldly.
“Is that your father on the phone?” My mother appeared in the doorway holding a sleepy McKenzie. They looked so natural together. As if they were the mother and child. My mother so easily slotted into the role of McKenzie’s caretaker, and my daughter gravitated to her with adoration.
I nodded to her, holding up a finger impatiently, focusing on my dad.
“Glynn will call you about the time of Rhett’s bail hearing. I’m assuming you’ll want to go—” Dad was saying.
“Of course I do!”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later today. I’ll come by to check on McKenzie, make sure our girl’s doing all right.
I’ll get to the courthouse early Tuesday so I can try to have a word with Harry before he enters his chambers.
I doubt he’ll talk to me, but I can try.
I’ll be damned if I’m going into this blind.
I need to know what direction this is headed. ”
“Great.” My voice was hollow, just like I felt.
“And, Lucinda, keep your mouth shut. The best thing is to remain silent. Don’t talk to anyone about what’s going on,” Dad instructed gruffly. “This is family business.”
“I’ve been through this before and got the crummy T-shirt, Dad,” I retorted before handing the phone to my mother and taking my daughter from her arms.
McKenzie laid her cheek against my chest, and I relished in the feel of her solid warmth. “Daddy,” she murmured, sucking on her fist in the way she did when she was hungry. I swallowed down the pain I felt at how she always called for him and never me.
“Daddy’s not here. It’s just Mommy.” I carried her from the room, leaving my parents to talk.
“Daddy,” McKenzie repeated, this time more insistently. She only ever said a handful of words, with Daddy being the most frequent. Lately when it wasn’t Daddy, it was Nanna, showing her preference for my mother if Rhett wasn’t available. Even with my own child, I was never enough.
“Well, Daddy has made a big ole mess that Mommy has to clean up,” I replied sweetly, knowing she didn’t understand a word I said.
It was nice telling truths to someone who would never repeat them. McKenzie was the best secret keeper there was.
“How about chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?” I asked her, making sure my voice was as perky as possible. Nothing like bribing your toddler with sugar to get her to hang out with you.
Her eyes, the exact shade of mine, lit up. My daughter was a tiny carbon copy of me. Rhett may be able to claim her affection, but no one would ever doubt she was mine.
Pushing all the ugliness from my mind, I went about my morning as normally as possible.
I sat in the stiflingly hot office of my husband’s defense attorney. It looked as if it had been staged like a magazine spread. Expensive desk and chairs. Plush couches in a traditional dark plaid fabric. Gleaming hardwood floors and overly patterned curtains.
On prominent display was a large, framed diploma from University of Virginia Law School. Glynn Walker was a man who would show that off. I got the sense he was all talk and didn’t have a lot to back up the pretension. A decent lawyer didn’t have to show off so much.
My dad’s office by comparison was bare, with only a wall full of law books and a heavy desk made of walnut in the center of the room.
The only personal touch was a framed print stating, “A good lawyer knows the law. A great lawyer knows the judge.” This mantra had served him well, and his trial record spoke for itself. He didn’t need to be flashy.
I sat back in my seat and faced off with Glynn Walker. “Can I visit him?”