17. Caleb
Caleb
The council chamber is packed by the time we arrive. Tommy and Marcus near the front, Gus standing near the back, giving me a single nod that feels like benediction and warning at once.
Rena's beside me, her posture perfect, her hands clasped too tightly in her lap. I take her hand, lacing our fingers together in full view of everyone.
"This meeting is called to order," the chair says. "We're here to discuss the status of the consulting contract for Ms. Rena Black."
"Before you make that determination," I say, standing, "I'd like to speak on Ms. Black's behalf."
Burke's expression hardens. "Mr. Wyatt, this isn't the appropriate forum for personal testimonials."
"It's not personal. It's professional." The chair sighs and gives me five minutes.
I move to the front. "Ms. Black has identified three separate structural issues since beginning work on this project," I say, and I walk them through each one, holding up the photos on my phone.
"In each case, her recommendations prevented injury and significantly higher costs down the line.
The delays we've experienced are the result of reality not matching the city's inadequate infrastructure records, not overcautious consulting. "
"Are you suggesting the city's planning department is at fault?" Burke challenges.
"I'm suggesting the city's records were incomplete, and Ms. Black did exactly what she was hired to do.
Terminating her contract now would be shortsighted at best and negligent at worst." I hold his gaze.
"If this council terminates her contract for political reasons rather than performance-based ones, I will not sign off on any subsequent work without equivalent safety oversight. And I will make my concerns public."
"That sounds like a threat, Mr. Wyatt."
"It's a statement of professional boundaries. She's the best consultant I've worked with in twenty years. Those qualities shouldn't be punished."
Beside me, Rena leans in just far enough to murmur, "You're either about to save my job or get us both banned from City Hall. I respect the commitment either way."
I sit back down, my heart pounding. Rena's hand grips mine, and she leans into my side.
Gus stands next. "The union supports both Mr. Wyatt's assessment and Ms. Black's continued involvement. Terminating her contract would send a message that this city prioritizes politics over worker safety."
Marcus stands. "Ms. Black caught the ground instability issue before we poured the eastern foundation. The delays she caused saved us months of rework."
Tommy stands, nervous but determined. "She's the first person who ever explained to me why a safety rule existed instead of just telling me to follow it. I actually understand my job better because of her. We want her to stay."
One by one, crew members speak, and by the time the last one sits, there's a different energy in the room. The council confers in whispers, and I watch Lila arguing with Burke.
"In light of the testimony we've heard today," the chair finally says, "this council votes to reinstate Ms. Black's contract for the duration of the Jefferson Street project, with a provision for extension pending successful completion. We expect collaboration moving forward, not obstruction."
It's a face-saving measure, but it means Rena keeps her job, and right now that's all that matters. Relief crashes through me hard enough that I feel dizzy.
Outside, surrounded by crew members offering congratulations, Rena turns to me. "You called the council potentially negligent. In public. On record."
"I did. Was I wrong?"
"No, but you could've lost your job."
"So could you. But we're both still here."
She laughs, shaky but genuine, and kisses me right there in the parking lot with half of Forge Creek watching. I don't care who sees.
"Take me home," she says. "Our home. I want to celebrate."
Later that night, tangled together in bed, she speaks into the darkness. "I'm going to need to set up an actual business. LLC, insurance, the whole thing. If I'm staying, I need to do this right."
"I know a good lawyer," I offer. "And Lila can help with local permits."
"This is really happening," she says, wonder and fear mixed together. "I'm really staying."
"You're really staying," I confirm, pulling her closer. "How does that feel?"
"Terrifying. Exciting. Right. All of those things at once."
"Good," I say. "That's how the important things should feel."