by Mark Boliek
* * * * *
Judge Oliver Decarte served as an elected judge in Athens Eden for almost forty years. It might be hard to imagine how someone could stand sitting and listening to case after case, problem after problem for such a long time, but Judge Decarte loved the law.
He had loved to argue since he was six years old, successfully arguing against some of his mother’s "nonsensical" house rules. Whenever a decree was imposed, he would set up a small courtroom in the family room and have a trial. He never won any of the arguments—his mother insisted that she was right—but he had the flair to take on anyone who would hear him out.
Now, in the silent courtroom, the man in the purple suit and white hat had taken a pair of leather gloves from his pocket. He began to wringing them in his hands. The squeak of leather rubbing against leather could just barely be heard over the hum of the air conditioner. Clearly, the man did not take too kindly to this turn of events.
“Malcolm,” Judge Decarte began. “You are not going to sidestep the letter of the law in this particular instance are you?”
Silence echoed from the bench and the rest of the room.
“I am sure that I taught you better than that.” Judge Decarte sighed. His disappointment in his former apprentice was obvious. Judge Porter's face turned red, as red as a child's might after a scolding from a parent. "It is my understanding that the law in question at this hearing clearly states that any person or group of persons with a stake in the property must be granted due process up to the time of the auction that has been called.” Judge Decarte glanced at his watch. “Since today seems to be Thursday, and the auction is not until Saturday, there are still two days until said auction.”
Jenny chuckled, but, when Judge Decarte stared in her direction, her face quickly turned serious. The old judge, though turning the tides in her favor, would not tolerate disrespect.
"It is common knowledge, I would say, that JT Davis here is the grandson of the owner of the property that the city has been so forthright to seize and auction, that owner being Captain Luke Xavier Davis—this is true, is it not?"
Judge Porter said not a word, but nodded in Judge Decarte's direction.
“Therefore he has a stake in this property. Is that correct?”
Judge Porter nodded again.
“Then I assume that this young man, despite any outside influence—“ Judge Decarte glanced back at the man in the purple suit, who grimaced and wrung his gloves so tightly that his knuckles turned white. One of the women tried to console him, but he yanked his hand away. “As I say, this young man deserves a fair hearing under the law. Is that also correct?”
Judge Porter looked up from his paper. The pause was palpable. Though the judge's face was red as a beet, he had no choice but to agree with the old man in the wheelchair. Judge Porter then peered at Jenny, squinting. For an unknown reason, she felt that was her cue to approach the bench.
“Your Honor, I—I mean, we, Your Honor, formerly request an injunction on the auction to take place at 209 Fairway Street in Athens Eden on this Saturday, the twelfth of November." Jenny took a deep breath and smiled, because she knew the only course Judge Porter could take.
“Granted.” Judge Porter slammed his gavel.
Jenny jumped up and clapped her hands, laughing in a high pitch that echoed about the courtroom.
“Your Honor, this is not—“ Mr. Gillingham began, but Judge Porter interrupted.
“I know what I said earlier, Mr. Gillingham, but as a human being and a judge in this court, I can make a mistake and correct it. The injunction stands.”
“This is an outrage!” Mr. Gillingham protested.
The entourage of the man in the purple suit erupted into jeers, all aimed at the judge.
JT sat and watched Michael, who rolled the old judge out of the courtroom. Michael nodded and JT nodded back. Jenny ran over to hug Judge Decarte, to his surprised delight. Then she grabbed Michael and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed. Jenny then ran up to JT and hugged him He hugged her back.
“Thank you,” JT whispered. “Now I have no idea what to do next.”
Jenny smiled. She felt like she had accomplished something. “I guess you have a home now anyway."
The courtroom seemed filled with people, all arguing with and jeering at Judge Porter. A number of bailiffs entered to diffuse the small riot.
JT grabbed Jenny and they left the courtroom. As they left the man in the purple suit reached out of the mêlée to snatch JT's arm. “This is far from over, Pilgrim,” he growled.
A flash of light hit JT's brain. The word "Pilgrim" bounced and echoed in his ears with a familiar, deep, dark tone. He fell to his knees. “This is far from over,” the man in the purple suit repeated. “We know what happened in that house all those years ago.”
JT looked at the man curiously.
“That’s right. Don't think I don't know about Charlie. Don't think I don't know about Kwaida, either." The man's serious expression gave way to a sinister smile and his grip tightened. The cologne he wore ripped through JT's nostrils, mixing with other smells from people making their way through the courtroom door. “Or as you like to call him, Billy.”
Speechless and frightened, JT felt his muscles tighten with the same sense of dread he felt when Willy visited him in the horse barn some weeks before. Even though it felt like a lifetime ago, he recalled the feeling that raced through his body.
“Whaa?” JT tried to pull himself together and summoned a whispered groan. “Billy? Is it you? It can't be you.”
The man in the purple suit smiled impossibly wide, then he bellowed out a low, rumbling laugh that echoed through JT's mind. The man's grip lessened.
Jenny shoved the man away, and he relented. She tugged on JT's arm, pulling him to his feet. They stumbled and, fighting their way through the gathering crowd, made their way out of the courthouse and into the morning light.
JT and Jenny stopped at the top of the old marble staircase in front of the courthouse. They felt relief, but the thought of having to follow through on the injunction and do something with the house overwhelmed their brains. But if they just left the old house upon the shore in its perpetual state of rot, the city would have no choice but to condemn it. After that, JT would have no recourse.
The sun peeked out of the midmorning sky and the small town bustled in earnest. People hurried by the courthouse steps in their suits and skirts, hardly noticing JT and Jenny.
“Over there.” Jenny pointed to where Michael waited, grasping the handles of Judge Decarte's wheelchair.
“Hey, Michael!” Jenny yelped and ran down the steps to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Even as slowly as JT limped his way to the group, he could see Michael's face turn pink. His horn-rimmed glasses sat crooked on his nose. He sighed and smiled as he put his arm around Jenny's waist and breathed in her perfume appreciatively.
“Hey, there. I'm still here!” Judge Decarte rolled away from the couple.
Michael let go of Jenny. His heart skipped a beat as he took the handles of the old judge's wheelchair.
“JT, wasn't Michael wonderful?” Jenny’s voice came out high and squealing.
“Yeah,” JT replied.
“Ah-hem.” Judge Decarte cleared his throat.
“And, of course, thank you, Judge Decarte.” Jenny bent down and kissed the old man on top of his head. The judge smiled.
“I'm just glad I could help,” Michael said. “That's what I really want to do—and can do. I can help.” Michael looked at JT.
“Thanks, Michael. I really appreciate it. I guess I just can't express it right.” JT began to feel the bond he had with Michael when they started this adventure. He could not place it, but it felt as though he should protect him, just like friends do. A weight lifted from JT’s shoulders, but something in the back of his mind pecked at him. This was not the end of the road; there was definitely more to come. His memories might still return to him.
The sm
all group stood together in silent solidarity and watched the people of Athens Eden pass.
Jenny left for the bank. She had taken a few days off in the run-up to the court date. She returned to work with a sense of accomplishment. The experience had lit a fire under her; she decided to pursue her dream of becoming a lawyer.
She had rebelled at any notion of moving ahead in society, like going to law school. But she enjoyed fighting for Warhead Dale, fighting for a just cause without any added pressure from her parents. It had been something she wanted to do, not what someone else wanted her to do—and she had felt an exhilarating rush of excitement as she stood before Judge Porter.
Michael drove JT out to Warhead Dale. With the injunction and keys in hand, it seemed the right thing to do. It would also give him a chance to explore the house during the day. Being alone in the house might just release the memories locked away in his mind. He gripped the cane's ivory handle and patted his grandfather's old journal. He wanted to find out more information about anything and everything he could.
The story he read in Ol' Captain Luke's handwriting wrenched his insides and compelled him to continue reading. It was not only his grandfather's tale, but, in a sense, his own. He had seen the old man in dreams, almost speaking in riddles. Yet in the journal, he stated his thoughts clearly on the page. He also felt a burning desire to discover what had become of the evil man his grandfather chased through the jungles of Africa.
The big, rusty blue car with fins shooting off the back and tattered white canvas top pulled up to 209 Fairway Street and skidded to a stop with a loud bang.
“I'll tell Linda you are not going to work the rest of the day and tomorrow. I'll take over your shift at the diner. I feel bad that I really haven't been around much the last couple of days. I think being out here by yourself will do you some good. I know it's been hard.” Michael placed his hand on JT's shoulder. JT felt their bond grow stronger. This time, maybe it was not his friend, but he, who needed the protection.
“Thanks, Michael. I just hope we did the right thing.” JT was conflicted. In a way, he wanted to return to Warhead Dale, but, then again, winning the right to keep his grandfather's big old beach house meant that now he had responsibility for its care.
“We did, JT—I promise. You'll see.” Michael smiled.
JT climbed out and the big blue car chugged away, small backfires echoing through the street as it vanished out of sight.
Fall had taken root, with a chilly bite in the air. It had gotten cooler in the almost two and half months since JT was last at Warhead Dale. He hadn’t been able to handle the thought of returning while the house’s fate was uncertain. He would have hated to get attached, then have it snatched away from him. Of course, it was too late for that. The old house had found its way into his heart.
JT took in a deep breath. The saltiness of the cold air filed his lungs; freshness cut its way to his soul. Limping, he opened the intimidating old iron gate, which sprang open as if to welcome him.
As he limped down the curved driveway under the tunnel of trees, he remembered walking the dark path with Michael and Kali. It had been frightening then, with so many questions bouncing between his ears.
Though he could not deny that he still had many questions, he was not quite as scared. The sun shined brightly in the midday sky and, though his knee throbbed, he felt a little lighter in his step. He felt hopeful for the future. Of course, he had no way of knowing what would happen later that night.
