Great and Precious Things

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Hello there, Mr. Bradley,” I said, low and smooth.

  His eyes flew open, and he sat up slowly, glaring at me with half his face shaved and the other half covered in a thick lather. “Camden.”

  “So, I need to talk to you.”

  “This is highly improper.” He swung his feet over the side of the chair. “You can’t ambush the judge who’s about to decide on your case next week.”

  “Oh, you’re completely right. I don’t even want to talk about the case. That’s a line I wouldn’t cross.” I tucked my thumbs in the front pockets of my jeans, my casual Rose Rowan Henley a direct contrast to his starched shirt and tie. “I need to talk to Noah Bradley, my girlfriend’s dad, not Judge Bradley. Figure you’d feel better having witnesses than any implication of impropriety. I know how much public opinion matters in an election year.”

  His face paled to a shade just a bit darker than the shaving cream, and he started to get out of the chair, only to catch his reflection in the mirror and think better of it. God only knew the last time the man had actually shaved his own face. “What do you want, Camden?”

  “I’m in love with your daughter.” The entire shop went so silent, I could hear the beat of my own heart. “I have been since I was about eleven years old, but to be fair, I was probably sixteen when I figured it out.”

  “Is that what you call it? Love?” His jaw flexed. “Because as I recall, you were eleven when you broke her nose and tried to pass it off as a fall.”

  Icy rage frosted my nerve endings in what I knew was preparation for a battle I couldn’t let happen. Instead of sinking into that calm, deadly space, I forced a smile to my face. “You see, Mr. Bradley, I promised the woman I love that I wouldn’t yell at her dad. I’ve never broken a promise to Willow, and I’m not going to let you goad me into breaking one now. So I’ll simply say that Xander came out of the tunnel that day with Charity, screaming that he’d lost Willow. I took his headlamp and went after her, just like I’ve always done and will always do.”

  He seethed but didn’t move.

  “I found her by the grace of God. Or, since you think I’m evil, maybe it was a deal with the Devil. Either way, I didn’t care. My soul in exchange for her life is a trade I’ll make any day.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “When I found her at the bottom of a ventilation shaft that I still can’t find on a map, she had a busted nose, bloodied lip, and skinned…everything. I put the headlamp on her so she could see in case anything happened to me, and then I pushed her up thirty feet of that shaft, give or take an almost-twelve-year-old’s memory. She cried the entire way, and a couple times it was for you.”

  He flinched.

  “Once we got to the top of the shaft, I took the headlamp back so I didn’t trip on my face. Then I picked her up in my arms, and I didn’t put her down again until I found you.”

  Two lines appeared vertically in his forehead. “Xander said you wouldn’t let him help you. That you slowed everyone down getting her the help she needed.”

  “He’s right. And he had just turned fourteen, so he probably could have gotten her out of the mine faster once we got up the shaft. But he wasn’t in the mine, Mr. Bradley. He was waiting at the entrance with Charity and Sullivan, and since he’d already lost her once that day, I wasn’t about to hand her over to anyone besides you.”

  He stared me down, still not believing.

  “You took Sullivan with you to the hospital and sent me home.”

  “They were friends. You were—”

  “Her soul mate. But that’s okay. I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

  Two figures approached the door, and Owen flipped the sign from open to closed. First time for everything.

  “How can you even say that? She was Sullivan’s. She’s only with you now because she sees something of him in you. You think she’s in love with you? She’s not. She’s in love with that part of Sullivan you represent, and it will eventually destroy her.”

  If I hadn’t been so certain of Willow’s love, I would have lost it right then. Instead, I focused on the warmth in my chest that grew every time I thought about her.

  “You’re wrong, but it’s not my place to talk about Willow’s feelings. I can only speak to what she’s told me and how I feel about your daughter. I’m not here to argue about Sullivan. I loved him more than you ever could have and will carry his loss with me every day for the rest of my life.”

  “At least he deserved her,” he threw in my face, his voice rising. “He never got her hurt. Never got into fistfights. Never covered his body in tattoos or set fire to a damned building! And he sure as hell asked my permission when he wanted to date Willow. He came to me like a man, his intentions clear and his heart honest, because he knew she was the kind of girl who respected that tradition!” He jabbed his finger in my direction.

  I shifted, bracing my hands on the counter and squeezing the top. “I’m not even sure where to start with that. I guess at the beginning. I have never hurt Willow intentionally, and the only wounds I’ve inflicted on her were emotional and due to my supreme idiocy when I was nineteen.”

  His eyes flared in surprise for a millisecond, but it was there.

  “I got into my share of fistfights, and I’d say probably half of them were defending Willow. Scott Malone was an asshole, and when he got tired of bullying her, Oscar stepped in. This”—I pointed to the tattoo of the hot springs on my arm—“is a sketch Willow did the summer before I left for basic training. I had it done the week before I reported, and yes, it hurt like a bitch until it healed.

  “As for the fire? Accidents happen, and you have no idea how terrified I was when I heard she was still inside. I’ll never forgive myself for how long it took me to get to her.” It always came back to that fucking fire.

  “What, you’re not going to throw in that you carried her out then, too?” he challenged.

  “You already knew that.” I shrugged. “As for the last part? I’m not Sullivan. He was a better boy than I was, and he never got to grow into manhood, but I bet if he hadn’t died that day?” I paused, taking a second to swallow the memories. “He would have been a far better man than I am. There’s no doubt.”

  “At least we agree on that,” he snapped. “Now, are you done?”

  “No. Because here’s the thing—Sullivan was wrong. He never should have asked your permission.”

  A collective murmur in the background reminded me that we had an audience.

  “I’m sorry?” Mr. Bradley asked, his eyebrows rising.

  “I didn’t ask your permission to date your daughter because it’s not up to you. What happens between Willow and me requires the consent of two people: Willow”—I held up one finger and then the second—“and me. You’re not in that equation.”

  “I’m her father!”

  “Yeah, you are, which is why we’re having this conversation. She loves you, and the rift between you two is ripping her apart.”

  “She knows how to repair it.” His voice dropped to a hiss.

  “By choosing you over me.”

  He raised a single eyebrow, confirming my statement.

  “If you continue that ultimatum, you will lose her.” I said it softly, making the guys in the back lean forward.

  “Hardly. She knows I’d do anything to protect her, even fight her for her.”

  “She will choose me, Mr. Bradley. And sure, partly it’s because she loves me as much as I love her. But mostly, it’s because I won’t ever make her choose.”

  His features slackened.

  “I don’t need to control her to love her. I don’t conquer my own fears that way, and I’m so sorry if you do. I only came to tell you that she loves you and she misses you. And I hope you come to your senses soon, because there’s nothing on earth that would make me walk away from Willow. I’m hers until she decides o
therwise, not you.”

  Anger sparked in his eyes, and the color not only returned to his cheeks but flared.

  “I’m glad we could have this conversation.” I pushed off the counter and headed toward the door, only to pause and look back at him, my thoughts tripping over something he’d said. “If you want my intentions, here they are. I’m going to marry your daughter. Then I’m going to spend every day of my life making her as happy as possible. But when I ask her to be my wife, you won’t know. I won’t ask your permission because she’s not a piece of property, and I won’t respect your tradition because you don’t respect that it’s really her choice. And if she says yes, you’ll only know if she tells you. You’ll only know if we get married if she chooses to invite you. You’ll only know if we have a child if she deems you worthy to know, worthy of being in her life.”

  He turned a mottled shade of red, and I knew I’d passed the do-not-cross line a while back, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  “You’ve raised two amazing, independent, intelligent women, one of whom owns my soul. Two women you should be incredibly proud of. I just wish you would be.”

  Owen held the door open for me as I walked out of the barbershop, giving me a smile and a nod in farewell.

  Then I drove straight to Willow’s house, interrupted her work like the selfish bastard I was, and made love to her until the ugliness of the morning faded into nothing but love and bliss.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Willow

  The little brick building that served as both the Town Hall and Alba’s municipal court was packed to the brim with just about every local who wasn’t tending their shop in the historic district.

  Xander already had the home-field advantage, seeing as his office was right across the hall, and he looked more than comfortable in his suit across the aisle, sitting with Milton Sanders, his attorney.

  I sat on the bench behind Cam and Simon, who had their heads together in a conversation I couldn’t hear, even four feet away.

  “I’ve never seen so many people here,” Charity noted as she slid in next to me. She was dressed similarly to me, wearing a simple sheath dress and pearls, just like our mother, who scooted in next to Charity.

  “Or heard so many,” Mom added. “They’ve got Scott Malone turning people away at the door.”

  We weren’t exactly built or staffed for such a public case, considering that we had an active courthouse only because Dad was willing to split his time between here and Salida. No other judge was volunteering to come up the pass.

  “Of course Genevieve is sitting behind Xander,” Charity said with a shake of her head.

  “But Pat, Gideon, and John are behind us,” Mom reported after a quick glance over her shoulder.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Walt slid in behind us with Dorothy Powers.

  “They didn’t sequester you?” Mom asked with raised brows.

  “Nope. Deposition yesterday,” Dorothy replied. “Art is finishing up with that psychologist, and then he’ll be in, too.”

  “Again?” Charity questioned.

  “They’re hoping he’ll be lucid enough to testify.” I kept my eyes forward and saw Simon shake his head. Cam didn’t look pleased at whatever that was the answer to. “He wasn’t all there the first time the doc interviewed him, but he was pretty lucid at last week’s appointment. Why don’t you guys come up here?” I looked back over my shoulder for the first time and saw they were closing the doors.

  “I make him nervous.” Walt nodded toward his son with pride shining in his eyes.

  Scott Malone let Art in, and Dorothy walked back to guide him up the aisle, where he eventually sat next to Cam, much to the muttering of the other side of the courtroom. I committed the image to memory, knowing I might not ever see Art take Cam’s side against Xander ever again.

  The doors reopened, and Julie Hall hurried down the aisle with a manila envelope. She handed it to Cam, who tensed as he thanked her, then put it into the file he had in front of him without opening it.

  That certainly got my curiosity piqued.

  Peter Mayville, our bailiff, entered the front of the court, and Mary Murphy came in directly after to take her spot at the recorder’s desk. We were ready to start.

  My heart slammed against my ribs at the thought of what was coming. How could I ever forgive my father for ruling against Cam in this? Against Art?

  Cam looked back at me and winked.

  I love you, I mouthed.

  I love you, he echoed before turning back around.

  “You two are nauseating,” Charity mumbled. “Not that I’m not happy you finally pulled your heads out of your asses, because that had to be the longest slow burn I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Charity! Language!” Mom snapped.

  She merely rolled her eyes.

  “You act like you’re the only person who knew what was going on,” Mom mumbled. “Who do you think distracted your dad while Willow snuck out to rescue all of Cam’s stuff that night? Huh?”

  We both slowly turned our heads to look at her with wide eyes.

  “You did what?” Dad asked as he slid in next to me.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” she told him with a wifely smile that said he was better off not knowing.

  “You talking about those boxes full of Cam’s things she had stacked in her closet for years?” he asked.

  We all gawked at him.

  “You knew?” I asked.

  His jaw flexed twice. “I’m stubborn, Willow. Not stupid.”

  I blinked, and then it hit me. “Wait, what are you doing—?”

  “All rise!” Peter Mayville called out, and we did so. “The Alba Municipal Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Deborah Wilson presiding.”

  My gaze snapped to my father, who stood, chin raised over an expertly knotted tie, as he watched someone else take his seat at the bench.

  “You may be seated,” a feminine voice declared.

  I was all too happy to, considering I already felt like I’d been knocked on my ass.

  Peter announced the case, but all I heard was a buzzing in my head. “Dad?” I whispered, unable to look anywhere else.

  He gave me a tight-lipped smile but didn’t speak.

  “Good morning, all three Mr. Danielses,” Judge Wilson greeted the men facing her, and I took her in for the first time. She was about the same age as Dad, with classically beautiful Korean features and an equally classic French twist in her hair.

  “Your Honor, if I may.” Milton Sanders stood. “We were told this case would be heard by Judge Bradley.” His voice pitched higher than usual as he finished.

  I felt the weight of a thousand stares in our direction.

  “Yes,” Judge Wilson responded with a smile. “I apologize for the confusion and the last-minute switch. Judge Bradley informed me he needed to recuse himself and asked if I would mind driving up to hear the case rather than going through a reschedule so close to the date. Since I had an opening, I agreed.”

  Milton paled. “Thank you for the explanation, Your Honor. Could you tell us when the request was made?”

  “Last night. Apparently, his daughter is in a relationship with one of the parties, and he felt he couldn’t be impartial.” She adjusted her thin-framed glasses. “The docket has been updated online, naturally.”

  “Of course, Your Honor.” He leaned down and conferred with Xander as the courtroom buzzed with muffled commentary. “Your Honor, my client would like to request a continuance.”

  “On what grounds?” she asked.

  “On the grounds that this last-minute change has left us at a disadvantage and we’ll need extra time to prepare.” Milton sounded rockier than his reasoning.

  “Your request is denied. An impartial judge is an impartial judge, and I assure you that I couldn’
t care less about where Judge Bradley is seated. Also, the court psychologist has assured me that Arthur Daniels is capable of testimony today, and that’s not something I’m willing to risk losing, given his diagnosis. We’ll proceed as planned.”

  Milton’s shoulders sagged as he sat.

  “Mr. Robinson, since your client has moved to change the guardianship of Arthur Daniels, the floor is yours,” Judge Wilson stated.

  As Simon stood to give his opening, I looked at Dad. “You recused yourself?” Emotion tangled my tongue and clogged my throat.

  His eyes met mine, softening exponentially. “I’m stubborn, Willow. Not stupid,” he repeated with a wry smile. “I’ve presided over thousands of cases, and none of them—including this one—is worth losing my daughter over.” He looked around my head. “Either of my daughters.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Just remember that I’m sitting with you, Willow. You and Charity and your mother. Not him.” He nodded toward Cam. “You.”

  “That’s more than enough.” I smiled slowly, and when I turned to watch Simon start his delivery, I caught Charity nodding at Dad.

  Both sides delivered an opening, stating their cases as to why Art’s guardian should be their client. Both stood firmly on their stance with the DNR.

  Cam was first on the stand.

  He answered Simon’s questions easily, telling the judge about the voicemail that had brought him home and what it had been like to see Art on the respirator after he’d been poisoned by carbon monoxide.

  “He did well,” Dad whispered as Milton rose to question Cam. “Strong, clear voice, sound reasoning, and no ill will harbored toward Xander. Very well.”

  “If you ever decide to give up the bench, you could always go for a career in courtroom commentating,” I whispered.

  He shot me a look that said he’d rather die.

  Milton started in hard on Cam, asking about his estrangement with Art over the last decade. He then moved on to his return to Alba and painted a picture of Cam being an unstable drifter who couldn’t be depended on to stick around.

  “On the contrary,” Cam argued. “I own property in Alba, have a voting membership in the Historical Society, and have two properties included in the district, one of which is projected to increase the income of the town by fifty percent. I’m in a committed relationship and recently offered my civil-engineering skills to the town’s electric company to upgrade Alba’s energy supply. The fact that I served in the military—as both my brothers also did—doesn’t make me a nomad.”