Caleb nodded, his eyes fierce pools of regret.
She grabbed her purse on the way out the door, unclipping her keys from the strap and finding her cell phone as she moved. Addison punched Brianne’s number, then held the phone between her shoulder and jaw as she started the van and drove it as close to the door as possible.
“Hey.” There was a lightness in Brianne’s voice that hadn’t been there before.
“I hate to ask this, but can you do me a big favor?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“The kids get off the bus at 4:40. We’re taking Caroline to the hospital. Can you be here?”
“On my way.”
Addison beat her head on the steering wheel twice, a luxury she wasn’t sure Caroline could afford, but life was dealing out too much.
Caroline hadn’t improved by the time they pulled into the emergency department’s entrance. Caleb had called ahead to say they were on the way. Two people in scrubs waited at the door with a stretcher.
Time flashed by as Caroline was rushed away, the bottle from Caleb’s hand taken with them. Then Caleb collapsed onto the van’s running board. “What’s going on?”
“Your mom has a problem.” Addison scooted in next to him. “And we’re going to help her.”
“I can’t do much from prison.”
Addison wrapped her arm around his uninjured one. “Then we have to fight this.”
44
Morning came with a crisp chill that wove into Addison’s bones. She waved as the bus pulled away from the end of the driveway, tugging her sweater a little tighter. The bus was a new adventure, a relinquishing of sorts, letting someone else deliver her children safely to their school.
The dust cleared behind the retreating vehicle. What had happened to December, to Christmastime, to grand plans? What happened to the perfection she’d sewn into the lives of her family? It was fleeting, like the plumes that rose behind the bus as it drove away. It couldn’t be controlled or contained. The wind blew it away and left the present clear and open yet filled with threats.
They’d returned from the hospital in the early morning hours, just as the sun cast the first glow over the mountains. After taking Brianne back to her house, Addison and Caleb had settled on the couch for a nap before waking the kids and getting them out the door for school. Coffee and prayers. They’d survive on both today.
Her feet crunched over the gravel as she strolled back toward the house, a beautiful vision in front of her, with flowers blooming and fog floating away across the field behind the barn. Soon there’d be smoke rising from the chimney. Soon they’d have the answer to the question that bound her heart: Would Caleb be with them this Christmas?
Dew collected on the toes of her Converse as she walked through the front yard, then up the steps.
Caleb held a hand on either side of his leg, the orthopedic boot empty against the couch. He pointed and contracted his foot.
“What are you doing?” Addison reached for the coffee mug she’d left on the sideboard.
“I’m counting my blessings.” He lowered his foot and patted the seat next to him.
“And . . . what did you come to?”
“Six. You, of course.” He reached for her hand and pulled her down beside him. “The kids. Mom didn’t die. She’s shaken up, but now she can start to heal from this. And I get rid of this awful boot today, just in time to meet the jury.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. There was a peace in having the house to themselves, calm in an otherwise turbulent time. The relief was laced with guilt. How could she enjoy time alone with her husband when it meant Caroline had spent the night in the hospital?
Caroline had been given a dose of naloxone, an anti-opioid, when they arrived at the emergency room. Though she’d seemed to recover well, the doctor wanted to keep her there while she completed the detox process due to her age and potential health problems.
“I think things will be better with your mom now, don’t you?” She wove her fingers between Caleb’s. “The doctor was optimistic that her memory problems will resolve with the medication out of her system. They’ll keep a close eye on her, and so will we.”
His head nodded against hers. “I’m sorry about doubting you. It could have cost her life.”
“I’ve learned a lot this summer about perceptions and reality.” She curled tighter into his warmth. “It’s easy to see what we want to see, or even what we expect to see. It’s much harder to stand back and see the truth.”
He nodded. “This is going to be a tough road for her. What if I can’t be here to help her?”
“I’ll be here. And so will the kids. We’re a family.”
Caleb kissed the top of her head. “You’re so much more than I deserve.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking about you.”
BRIANNE WOKE TO the sound of pounding. She stretched and looked at her phone. August 29. Today would have been Amanda’s fifteenth birthday. The date had stood out to her when reviewing the girl’s files.
The time had come to let Amanda rest in peace, to put the anguish aside and turn the loss of that sweet girl into something that could stop other children and teens from facing darkness alone.
Brianne stretched and slipped on her flip-flops. The air was growing cooler every day, making her thankful that her father had come to visit. Though she could handle the furnace on her own, trips to the basement were a task she’d gladly give up.
The scent of coffee and the gurgle of the maker delighted her as she walked into the kitchen. She could have this every morning if she, for once, remembered to set up the machine the night before and put on the timer. Living alone was an endless series of responsibilities.
For a moment, she let her mind wander to what it would be like if she and Seth did get married someday. Maybe he would get the coffee and deal with the furnace maintenance, and she could walk the dog and cook pancakes.
“What are you all smiles about this morning?”
Brianne nearly jumped. She raised her hand to her chest. “Just deep in thought.”
He wagged his eyebrows. “Does that deep thought have anything to do with Seth Wallace?” He shrugged. “I’m asking purely for your mother, of course.”
“The news made it to Mom, huh?”
The twinkle in his eyes gave the answer.
“I might be thinking of him.” She pulled down her favorite Disneyland mug, added an embarrassing amount of creamer, then poured in the rich coffee.
“That is one seriously lucky boy.” Her dad wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so proud of my baby girl.” His breath warmed the top of her head where he planted a kiss.
She pulled back a bit. “Then I think you might like this. I was up half the night thinking. And not about Seth. Okay, not just about Seth.” She grinned. “I’m going back to work. Helping the Kilbourns, getting to know their children, and understanding more about Amanda’s case has reminded me why God put me in that position to begin with.”
He pumped a fist in the air. “That’s my girl.”
“But I’m not going to do it in the exact same way. I’ve decided to open a private practice. I think I can provide better service if I can include my faith. I’ve emailed a colleague to help me get started, but I think I’ll offer a sliding-scale fee to accommodate clients with little income. It won’t make me rich, but it’s where I belong.”
He placed a hand on each of her cheeks. “You’re my hero.” Then he kissed her forehead. “Before you go off and save the world, would you give me a hand with that railing out front? Don’t want anyone breaking a leg out there.”
She took a good swig of fresh coffee and followed him out the door.
ADDISON AND CALEB spent the morning in Caroline’s hospital room. She’d stabilized, but the real work was about to begin. The doctor had serious concerns about her heart and decided it was best for her to spend a couple more nights in observation before he would consider discharge.
Inside Addison
’s purse were pamphlets with further information on what they could expect for the coming weeks and months. Yet that material was lacking the answers she really needed. How was she going to support her mother-in-law, protect her kids, and fight for her husband’s freedom all at the same time?
They approached the offices of Howell, Steves, and Goragie, attorneys at law. A familiar feeling hit Addison every time they entered this building, stealing her balance as it cut away her ability to breathe. Passing through these doors, Addison couldn’t deny the reality of their tenuous position.
She reached for Caleb’s hand to steady herself and found his palm clammy and his grip shaky. In her entire adult life, she’d never allowed herself to feel this much vulnerability, and it was washing over the only person who could hold her up.
Mr. Howell was in the waiting room, ready for them. “Is there anything you’d like to go over before we head to the courthouse for jury selection?”
Caleb looked to Addison, his eyes pools of resignation. “Yes.”
“I’m not going to lie. Your tone has me worried.” His two eyebrows joined together in a furrow. He turned and led them back to his office. “What’s going on?”
“There are a couple of things that might come up. My brother is a real piece of work. He’s been estranged from the family for about eight years.”
Mr. Howell nodded. “We can work with that. It’s not like you have regular contact with him. I’d say that matter is irrelevant.”
“I agree, but it turns out Wyatt isn’t the only family member struggling. My mom has a problem with oxy. She’s in the hospital, detoxing. And . . . I went to see my brother the night of the accident. That’s where I was, and that’s where I apparently had a drink.” He held up a hand. “Honestly, I would never touch the stuff otherwise. It’s a family tradition of sorts.”
The lawyer leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk, his fingers interlinked. “Ouch. You’ve just made a connection between your family and both substances found in your blood. It’s not great, but it’s not a death sentence.”
Caleb cringed.
“Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“The oxy was an accident.” Addison clung to her purse. “He didn’t know. What about the fact that our daughter saw Caleb’s mother get the medication out of an acetaminophen bottle? She put it in a baggie for him in case his headache got worse. Doesn’t there need to be some kind of intent for him to be found guilty?”
“How old is that daughter again?” Mr. Howell grabbed a pencil and opened his file.
“Six.”
He shut the file. “We can bring it in with your testimony, but it’s hearsay unless we put your daughter on the stand. I’d be shocked if the DA doesn’t object. Most six-year-olds don’t do well in the courtroom.”
Howell sat back. “Listen, I fully expect the state to bring a deal to me this evening. They’re very predictable that way. I’ll introduce this information, try to make it sound as compelling as possible. Maybe it will help with negotiation if you decide to go that direction.”
“But he didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Addison ached to run into court and make everyone listen. “How can they do this?”
“I get it, but the DA is running for reelection on a platform of ridding this community of drug and alcohol offenses. Don’t give up now. We weren’t able to interview the eyewitnesses, thanks to one having an attorney for a father, but that might not be a bad thing.”
Caleb leaned forward. “How’s that?”
“I understand one of them is very nervous. I’m not advocating for the harassment of a witness, but if she falls apart on the stand and her testimony doesn’t line up with Miss Hampton’s testimony or her prior statements, that’s good for us.”
“But Georgianna Bosch is dead no matter what the jury decides.” Caleb scrubbed his hands through his hair.
“True. And that’s horrible. But you serving time doesn’t bring her back. If we don’t win, I believe all the circumstances we’ve talked about today will influence the judge when he decides on a sentence.” He tapped his watch. “We need to get going.”
BRIANNE BREATHED IN the delicate scent of the wild flowers she’d bought at a florist. It wasn’t the right season to pick them in the hills like she would have preferred. She stepped out of the car at the hillside cemetery and started down the path to the place she’d visited many times before—Amanda’s grave.
The marker was simple but fitting, a picture of a dove with an olive branch carved into the stone. Brianne reached down and removed dead flowers, setting them in a pile to discard on her way out. Then she arranged the new bouquet in the tiny vase provided by the groundskeeper.
She stood back and clasped her hands. No child should ever be here.
Her mind started to replay her last visit with Amanda, and along with the memories came the rebuke. Brianne shook her head. Not this time. Yes, she could have done better. But it was so easy to see mistakes when looking back. If there was one thing she’d learned this summer, it was that every single person on earth was in need of grace. She needed it more than she could put words to.
Closing her eyes, she let the stillness fill her, let the pain and the self-punishment go. Addison would try to find a way to turn this to good, and that was exactly what Brianne was doing. When she left here, the next stop would be West Crow High School, then on to the high school in Darlington. She was on a mission to bring depression and suicide out of the shadows. Teens and preteens needed to understand the warning signs and know how to get help. Once that was established, she’d expand her reach to senior citizens, another group with high rates of suicide. They needed somewhere to turn. This was the place and the cause God had designed Brianne for, and she wasn’t about to back down.
Footfalls interrupted the peace. Brianne turned around to see where they came from.
Clyde Tanger stood ten feet behind her, his head bowed, a bunch of flowers in one hand and a small teddy bear in the other.
Brianne stepped to the side, leaving him room.
“Take your time. You were here first.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“I need to tell you something.” She looked down at the grave, then back to Clyde. “Somehow this seems like an appropriate place.”
He looked up with bloodshot eyes, pain etched into the grooves around his mouth.
“Amanda left me a letter the day she died.” Brianne pulled the envelope out of her back pocket. “She said you were innocent. Is that true?” She handed the letter to Clyde.
He placed the flowers and teddy bear at the head of the grave before taking the letter. Unfolding it, he pinched his lips and scanned the words. “There are a lot of ways to be guilty, Ms. Demanno. No, I didn’t do what I went to prison for, but I was by no means an innocent man.”
A chill ran over Brianne’s skin. She looked toward the parking lot.
“You have no reason to be worried. I’ve changed. Prison gave me time to sober up and see the mess I’d made, the people I’d hurt. There isn’t a sentence long enough to make it all right. My wife—my ex—she did what she had to. She was trying to protect our kids.”
Brianne looked down at the grave beside her feet. “That wasn’t protection. It was manipulation.”
“Call it what you will. She was scared.”
“How can you give her so much grace but allow yourself none?” Brianne crossed her arms, hugging herself in an effort to retain heat.
“Because I was there, and I know the depth of hurt I unleashed on my family. I’m a horrible, angry drunk. I deserved what I got, Ms. Demanno. I deserved so much worse.” Taking two steps forward, he kissed his hand and touched the spot where her name was engraved. His gaze settled back on Brianne. “I need to feel the weight of this for a bit longer. Maybe forever.” He nodded, turned, and started to walk away.
“Wait.”
Clyde stopped, offering the letter back to Brianne.
“Keep it. When you’re ready, you can give it to you
r attorney. I’ll testify to its being from Amanda.”
His eyes clouded. “Thank you.” He held the paper to his heart, then left.
Cold air whipped through the trees of the cemetery, rustling the branches, still heavy with leaves. A sprinkle of rain misted her face as Brianne watched the retreating form of Clyde Tanger walk away.
45
Emilia waited outside the office of the DA until the woman finally appeared, a tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“I was hoping to talk with you before the trial.” Emilia stepped into pace beside her.
“We have everything we need.” The DA punched the elevator button.
“The older Mrs. Kilbourn—the mother of the defendant—was hospitalized recently with an oxy overdose. She’s apparently the one in the house who was using it illegally. I think this throws some light on Mr. Kilbourn’s assertion that he did not take the medication knowingly. Maybe it really was accidental.”
The DA shifted, giving Emilia her full attention for the first time. “How is that my problem? The man killed a woman. You pushed for this to be prosecuted. Exactly how do you think it would look if I dropped it now?”
“I just thought you should know.”
The elevator opened, and the DA got in. She held the door. “Are you coming?”
“I think I’ll take the stairs.”
There’d been an unease in Emilia’s chest all morning. Something wasn’t right, and she was the one responsible for this case. She really had let her anger and fears get in the way of her job. Yet at the time, she was sure she’d maintained tight boundaries between her family and her work, not letting one bleed into the other. Prickles darted up and down her arms. Right was still right, wasn’t it?
Emilia adjusted the collar of her uniform and took the stairs at a slow pace. Georgianna Bosch was dead. That was the point Emilia needed to remember. That was why they were here today: to find justice for a woman who had needlessly died.
More Than We Remember Page 28
