by Loree Lough
He marched around the coffee table until he stood a foot in front of her. Gripping her upper arms, Simon gave her a gentle shake. “You can’t save him, Julia. He’s beyond saving. I’ve always known you’re naive, but surely even you realize that he’s hopeless.”
“He’s going to prison for what he did. I can’t save him from that. I don’t want to save him from that.” She could tell him that she felt largely responsible for what Michael had done, because if she hadn’t gotten him off on the shoplifting charges, he’d have been forced into therapy, where a talented analyst would have been working with him on the day he chose to kill Levi. And maybe that therapist would have reached him. Not likely, she thought, but why give up all hope even before treatment began? “There’s no escaping the fact that he’s sick.” She tapped her temple. “Sick, Simon, and after all these years, I doubt there’s a cure. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to get him some help, so that when he gets out, he’ll—”
“When he gets out?” he roared. He gave her another little shake. “You’re actually planning to work toward getting that homicidal maniac out? So he can kill somebody else’s little boy? Are you out of your mind, Julia?”
A sob aching in her throat, she fought the tears that burned behind her eyelids. “‘There but by the grace of God,’” she whispered. “‘There but by the grace of God.’”
The expressions skittering across his exquisite face went from anguish to frustration to utter defeat. Julia reached up to touch his cheek, just a small gesture of love and comfort…but he shoved her hand away. He held her gaze long enough for her to read the misery glittering in his eyes. Then he crossed the room in four long strides and took his coat from the hall tree. “Gotta go,” he ground out, slipping his arms into it. “I…you…” And shaking his head, he walked out.
If he’d slammed the door, Julia would have had reason to hope that his mood would shift, that in the morning he’d see things differently. But the door closed softly, quietly, as if deliberately shutting her out of the rest of his life.
Julia reached for her Bible, flicked on the lamp beside Gramps’s chair, and prayed for all she was worth that God would help her put one foot in front of the other tomorrow…and every day until Simon came back to her again.
Chapter Nineteen
The last time Julia visited Paradise, it had been a lovely early spring day, nearly two months after Simon stormed out of her house. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in all that time—unless she counted the dreams that tormented her as she tried to work and as she tried to sleep. She’d barely noticed the aroma of budding honeysuckles that sweetened the warm air or the colorful strokes painted by tulips and daffodils blooming along the walkways.
But she’d noticed Simon, a half block away, in animated conversation with a uniformed police officer. Fear kept her rooted to the spot, unable to go to him, incapable, even, of waving. Because what if he turned from her, as he had upon leaving her house that awful night? Or worse, what if he met her gaze…and she found no trace of love glimmering there?
She understood that he needed time, lots of time, to wrap his mind around what she must do as part of her job. Julia believed that fervent prayer would soften his heart…if only she could resist the temptation to rush him.
The blue sky went suddenly dark and thunder rolled as lightning sliced the horizon. Ominous clouds swirled overhead as an angry wind whistled through the streets of Paradise. Julia didn’t pray that the rain would hold off until she’d run her errands, like every other person now running for cover. Instead, she simply asked God to spare her a run-in with Simon.
Stepping into line at the bakery, she dug through her oversized purse for the ten-dollar bill she’d stuffed inside it that morning. It was her turn to provide donuts for the Friday coffee klatch at the office, and she hadn’t had time the night before—thanks to last-minute pleadings and jury selection notes—to bake them herself. I hope you appreciate all I’ve sacrificed for you, Michael, she thought, knowing even as the words formed in her mind what an impossible scenario that was. She’d given up sleep, food, and time with her friends to work on his defense. Most important of all, she’d given up Simon.
Two more days, she thought, just two more days before the trial begins. It wasn’t likely to last a week, not with all the evidence the prosecution had against Michael, so—
“Hello, Julia.”
The voice startled her so badly, she nearly dropped her purse. “Hannah,” she said, turning. “Hannah…how are you?” The woman had aged many years in the months since Levi’s death. She appeared thinner and toil-worn. “Come,” Julia said, taking her elbow, “sit with me a minute.”
Nodding, Hannah followed to a small table in the corner. “I saw you through the window. You looked so sad, standing here alone, that I just had to come in.”
“I’ve been meaning to stop by,” Julia admitted. But the case had eaten every spare moment…and most of her courage. Telling herself the Gundens were understanding, forgiving people was entirely different from looking into their grief-stricken faces, knowing that for all intents and purposes, she’d taken the side of the boy responsible for their painful loss.
“You have been busy, I am sure,” Hannah said, laying a hand atop Julia’s. “But even with all you have to do, I knew that William and I, and Rebekah and Seth, were in your prayers, always.” She gave the hand a little squeeze. “And you in ours.”
Surely they’d heard that Julia had been assigned Michael’s case. Despite their lack of telephones, radios, and televisions, very little escaped the knowledge of the Amish. And yet they prayed for her. Julia dipped her head low, unable to look into Hannah’s big, friendly eyes..
“It is hard for most to understand, I know,” Hannah said, “but we do not hate those who hate us. Judgment is God’s and God’s alone. Besides,” she added, leaning closer, “that Josephs boy needs someone like you to stand up for him. I pray your influence will change his heart before it’s too late for him.”
Julia felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids and looked away, unable to face Hannah’s unabashed kindness and goodness. She remembered wondering once, when Simon had made a comment about forgiveness and understanding, if he might have a little Amish in him. Julia couldn’t have been more wrong about that, but that didn’t stop her from wishing he was a little more like his friends the Gundens, especially now!
“How is William doing?” Julia asked.
A long, shaky sigh exited Hannah’s lips. “Better every day,” she said. “Hard work is a big help.”
“And Seth and Rebekah?”
“They are well,” she said, nodding. “They miss Levi, of course, but like us, they know he is in a better place.”
Julia knew that the image of Hannah’s children, red-eyed and sniffling at Levi’s grave, would never leave her memory.
It was Hannah’s turn to ask a question. “And Simon,” she said. “How is he?”
Julia couldn’t bear to add to Hannah’s troubles by telling her the truth. “He’s been very busy,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
“He is overly proud, that man of yours.”
Julia closed her eyes for a moment and prayed he would someday be “hers” again.
“He thinks his wrath is loyalty, well-placed because he is our friend. What he has yet to realize is that we do not need him to defend us. God is our defender, all we will ever need.”
So Hannah knew that Simon had broken things off with her after all. Julia shouldn’t have been surprised. Under different circumstances, she might have smiled at that fact. Instead, she said, “It’s just that Simon loved Levi so much….”
“Oh, that was never a secret,” Hannah said. “The night he helped me bring the boy into the world, I would not have needed a lamp in the room. His face lit up like the sunrise when Levi dropped into his waiting arms.” Sighing, she continued. “I remember how his eyes filled with tears, and when at last he could speak, he said, ‘I am holding in
my hands living proof that there is a God.’” With a nod, Hannah added, “Do not worry, Julia. He will soon come to his senses, and when he does, Simon will see that his angry ways are not God’s way. And he will see another important thing, too.”
Julia met Hannah’s blue eyes, waiting for the wisdom of the Amish that so often held the promise of hope and comfort in times of trouble.
“He will see that you are his intended, and he will come to you, seeking forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness? I’m the one who should ask forgiveness!”
“For doing what God leads you to do?” Hannah shook her head. “I know you English think that we Amish are without temper, or anger, or spite. You believe we are incapable of hate.” Eyes narrowed and lips thinned, she said, “I am here to tell you this is not true! We are Amish, yes, but we are human. We feel all those things and more! The difference is that we lay our hatred in God’s capable hands and ask Him to release us of it.” She held a finger aloft to conclude. “Those emotions imprison our hearts and souls and keep us far, far from the loving mercy of our God. There is no worse fate than to be separated from Him.” She gave another nod. “I believe Simon will wake one day and see that this is true.”
“From your lips to God’s ear,” Julia said, hugging her cherished friend.
The trial began on Monday, presenting Julia with a major problem to contend with right from the start. Not the ill-fitting clothes Michael’s mother had grudgingly delivered, making her son look like a ripe pear in a navy suit. Not the jury’s reaction to opening statements. Not the judge, for experience had taught her that he was a fair and reasonable man. And not even Michael’s defense, for Julia had prepared well, practiced her speeches, and knew the case inside and out. Barring any last-minute surprises by the prosecution, she’d hold her own in the courtroom.
No, Julia’s problem had a name: Simon, who made a point of sitting front and center.
She knew that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would call him to the stand at the end, to ensure that the last thing the jury would hear were his faltering, impassioned words, describing the cold-blooded crime Michael had committed that awful January day…and how it had cost little Levi Gunden his life.
Much as she’d hated to, Julia prepared well to interrogate him. She didn’t look forward to questioning the opposition’s main witness, for it meant standing two feet from arms that had once held her tenderly, from eyes that had glowed with affection for her, and from hands that had performed a thousand gentle acts of love.
Instead, when she took her place in front of the witness box, she’d face his rage and reproach—and the heartache of wondering if he still loved her, if he’d ever forgive her. No amount of planning and practicing could prepare her heart for that.
The days passed grindingly, slowly, as the DA introduced blood samples, finger-and shoe prints, and hair samples found at the scene, each directly linking Michael to the crime. Gasps of shock and horror echoed through the courtroom as photos, taken by a local reporter just moments after the fact, showed fiery reminders of Michael’s heinous act, seared into the Paradise pavement.
Things shifted a bit in Michael’s favor when Julia entered doctor and psychiatrist findings into evidence, and she watched as the jury read each page, as they listened with undivided attention to the experts’ testimony. Perhaps like her, they held out hope that the professionals could help explain the ruthless barbarity of Michael’s actions…and that he wasn’t doomed to repeat them if they decided against the death penalty.
Ordinarily in a case like this, the sadistic acts he’d performed as a boy would not be entered into evidence, but in order to prove the teen’s long history of disturbing behavior—that went unpunished and untreated—Julia presented the court with pages of detailed documentation that made his mental unbalance shatteringly clear. Through it all, he sat beside her, drawing ferocious monsters on a sketch pad, looking up only now and then to glower at the prosecutor, a member of the jury, the judge. No matter. She’d use it all in her summation…and pray he’d finally receive the help he so desperately needed.
Then came the day she’d dreaded—when Simon was called to the stand. Once he’d been sworn in and situated himself, she approached the polished oak box surrounding him and said, “Doctor Thomas, would you please state for the record your full name and residential address?”
As Simon rattled off the necessary information, Julia prayed. Prayed the Lord would guide her actions as well as her words, for she had no intention of skewering Simon in order to spare Michael.
“And would you tell the court if, on January second, you were alone in Paradise?”
“I was,” he stated. But his eyes said, You already know the truth….
“Do you recall why you were in town that day?”
“I work in Paradise,” came his gravelly reply.
“In your veterinary clinic?”
“Correct.”
“But that’s located at the other end of town, is it not?”
“It is. I’d stopped at the bakery for breakfast. Donut and coffee. Same as I do most mornings on my way to the work.” And his glittering glare said, But you know that, too….
“Did you have occasion to converse with anyone as you walked down Main Street?”
“Other witnesses to the murder, you mean? You bet I did.”
“Your honor,” Julia said, “please instruct the witness that his personal opinion has no place in this trial.”
The judge leaned closer to the witness box. “Keep your responses to ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ Doctor Thomas,” he said.
Glowering, Simon nodded.
Julia continued. “When the police questioned you after the accid—”
“Accident! What that punk did was deliberate, calcula—”
“Your honor…?” Julia interrupted.
“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Doctor Thomas,” he warned. “I’ll thank you to stick to yes or no answers.”
“Yes, your honor.” But Simon had fixed his hard gaze on Julia, not the judge, as he spoke.
“Will you tell the court, please, Doctor Thomas, who you saw on the street that day?”
Simon named the shopkeepers he’d spoken with and the townsfolk who’d waved hello. “And then I saw him.” He stabbed the air with his forefinger, indicating Michael, who nonchalantly continued sketching monsters at the defense table. “He was standing with those other two, Paul and Walt, until he pulled that…that bottle from under his coat and they hightailed it.”
“Let the record show,” Julia said, “that the witness has indicated the defendant, Michael Josephs.” And then she faced the jury, mostly because she didn’t want to look into his face as he answered her next questions. “Now, Doctor Thomas, will you tell the court what you saw after Michael removed the bottle from under his coat?”
Simon inhaled a deep breath, let it out with a whoosh, and told the jury exactly what had happened. His voice cracked several times, and tears came to his eyes as he recounted the tragedy. Julia squeezed the railing surrounding the jury box so tightly that her fingers ached. Just a few more questions, she told herself. Just a few more minutes….
“Would you say, Doctor Thomas, that Michael seemed in his ‘right mind’ as he perpetrated this evil deed?”
“What?” Simon all but shouted. “Did he…did he what?”
She needed to get him to repeat what he’d told her that night in her living room…that Michael looked wild-eyed and insane, cold and far removed from his horrible act. But could she continue punishing Simon to get the testimony she needed, particularly since she knew better than anyone how much that day had changed him, changed his life?
“What I’m getting at, Doctor Thomas,” she said as gently as possible, “is whether or not it seemed to you that Michael appeared to be rational.”
“Objection,” called the prosecutor. “Leading the witness…”
“Overruled,” blurted the judge. “I want to hear where the defense is goin
g with this. But I caution you, Ms. Spencer, to take care….”
Nodding, Julia continued. “Would you say Michael had targeted the Gunden buggy?”
“Absolutely.”
“And it was clear to you that Michael knew Levi was in the buggy?”
Frowning, Simon blinked and licked his lips. “I…I don’t see how he couldn’t have known.” He stared at the enormous double doors at the back of the courtroom as if they’d become a wide-screen TV where he could view the grisly scene as if on film. “Everybody on the street that day saw Levi, waving, saying hello to passersby, chattering like a chipmu—” Simon’s words caught in his throat, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to regain his composure.
Oh, how Julia yearned to go to him, to comfort him! But she had a job to do, like it or not.
And she definitely did not. “How far would you say Michael was from the buggy?”
Simon cleared his throat. “Half a block, maybe less, by the time he tossed the bottle.”
“How many yards would you guess that to be?”
“Sorry. I didn’t have a tape measure with me.”
“Would you be so kind as to hazard a guess?”
On the heels of a ragged sigh, he said, “Twenty, twenty-five yards.”
“So,” Julia interjected, “a distance similar to where you’re sitting and that blue van in the parking lot, out the window over there?”
Simon followed where she’d pointed and said, “I guess.”
“Objection,” the prosecutor interrupted. “Calls for speculation.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Miss Spencer,” Simon steamed, “but the best I can do is provide an educated guess.” He leaned closer to add, “I am under oath, after all.”
As the judge tried to quiet the quiet chuckles that floated through the courtroom, Julia realized she’d have to try another tack if she hoped to get Simon to admit that Michael had been too far away to know for certain if Levi had been in the buggy. Clasping both hands behind her back, she faced the jury again. “Did Michael move closer to the buggy after he lit the wick on the bottle?”
