Jay walked over to the bed that held Jordan and rubbed her arm from wrist to elbow with the tips of his fingers in greeting and then moved to the opposite side of the bed. Cory placed himself at Jordan’s side and tenderly stroked her face with the back of his hand.
“This woman,” Cory said, finally breaking the silence, “is the whole world to me.” Jay swallowed, thinking of Madison and what she meant to him before his thoughts returned to the accident and the stupid mistake that had led this beautiful couple down a path of pain. “I understand that you did not harm her on purpose,” Cory continued, glancing from Jay to his unmoving wife. “But you are responsible for the accident.” Jay nodded in agreement, feeling remorse wave over him once again. “There’s not much anyone can do for my wife, or even for me at this point,” Cory stated as he pulled the light sheet up to Jordan’s chin to ensure her warmth. “Here’s what you can do,” he said slowly. Jay waited anxiously for Cory to continue, running endless possibilities through his mind and knowing that he was willing to do whatever was asked of him. “I need you to do exactly what you have been doing,” Cory said, looking Jay in the eye. “I need you to be by Jordan’s side. She needs friends right now, and as much as I’d like to, I can’t be by her side every second,” he paused. “And I need you to be by my side,” Cory stated, reverting his gaze back to his wife. “It’s selfish, really. I need someone to share this burden with me, and I don’t think anyone could possibly understand any better than you.”
Sensing the completion of his request, Jay extended his hand across the bed holding Cory’s wife. “You’ve got it,” he said, though he was incredulous that this man would want him anywhere near his family. Determined to begin his duties immediately and further open the lines of communication, Jay tentatively asked, “Do-do you have any children?”
Cory’s eyes clouded again, the tenderness replaced by pain from the past. “We did…twice actually,” he said. Jay waited patiently in case Cory wanted to divulge details.
* * * *
Jordan returned to as normal a life as she could after returning to her college in Iowa. Letters from Cory had piled up in her campus mailbox during her semester-long absence. She knew she couldn’t force herself to read his words, so she stashed the unopened envelopes into the very top of her crammed closet and tried to move forward. Her mornings were spent in classes, her afternoons studying, her evenings were saved for work in the community. Everywhere she went, people had a friendly smile for Jordan because she had helped their uncle or grandma or friend. She was a staple the community desperately needed, and she did it all. Nothing was beneath Jordan. She would rake leaves, help at the nursing home, and pick up trash in the streets. When her studies allowed, she also organized larger scale events for local non-profit organizations, raising funds for sick children or homeless families. The only thing she could not do was baby sit. Most of the time she avoided being asked, but occasionally it did come up. She always had an excuse--a big exam to study for, a prior commitment, or a committee meeting. She just couldn’t bring herself to hold a child in her arms. Not yet.
Another activity Jordan shunned was dating. She was a beautiful girl who was very obviously blossoming into a lovely woman, and the guys on campus were dumbfounded by her. Many were attracted by her looks, while others were drawn to her charitable heart, but none were let into her mind. She would occasionally allow someone to take her for coffee, but only after vehemently insisting that she would pay her own way and go only if the guy understood their “just friends” status.
Rumors flew as they are prone to do on college campuses. Some students thought she had an older boyfriend and that her parents didn’t approve. Others speculated that she was destined to become a nun, though she wasn’t Catholic. It didn’t matter what people said. Jordan knew the truth, and that was all that mattered. Her heart was not hers to give away. It was already spilt in half and buried in pieces.
As she neared graduation, Jordan began a mad search for a job. She looked all over the country, wanting desperately to find something that would fulfill her desire to help others. Of course, such a job also had to allow her to support herself. She applied for numerous positions and received several responses and offers. Nothing felt one hundred percent right, however, until she got the call from Texas.
“Jordan?” the woman asked, revealing her southern background with one single word.
“Yes,” Jordan replied.
“This is Nancy from Heritage Homes. You applied for the position of assistant to the executive director. Is that correct?”
“Yes, I did,” Jordan stated, curious how this call would affect her life.
“I was asked to call and set up an interview. I’m assuming a phone interview would be best since you’re, what, a thousand miles away?!” Nancy joked.
“That would be wonderful,” Jordan proclaimed, trying not to sound as excited as she felt.
They set up the interview for the next day, and Jordan floated through the rest of the evening. Assistant to the executive director! Wow! Heritage Homes was a small shelter with big impact in a suburb of Houston. She could only imagine how she would be able to use her talents and her drive to help others in such a position.
Jordan’s nerves were rattled through class the next morning. She raced back to her room and stared at the phone until it finally rang a few minutes past the set interview time. Jordan’s nerves calmed the instant the interview began. After all, the only thing she could do was answer candidly and hope for the best. She felt good about the interview and thanked the director for her time before hanging up, crossing her fingers that she would hear something soon.
She didn’t have to wait long since a message left for her the next day revealed an offer from Heritage Homes. She squealed when she heard the news, and her roommate looked up from her books in shock. Jordan had always been joyful, but she had never appeared thrilled by anything, not since their freshman year at least.
Jordan accepted the position immediately and tried to forget about the end of college and the beginning of her new life. She had to concentrate on her final exams and leave the future plans for later. As much as she tried, she still fell asleep each night dreaming of Texas.
* * * *
Cory inhaled the smog as he dragged his large suitcase away from the terminal. Not the freshest air he had ever taken in, but who cared? He was in Texas. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune as he remembered unfolding the acceptance letter from Thurgood Marshall School of Law. The school wasn’t his first choice, but as other letters declining his application poured in, it quickly became his best option. Cory had always wanted to return to Texas, where he’d spent a few years of his childhood. He had forgotten how hot it was, though, until the humid air hit him with full force as the automatic airport exit doors slid open.
He was finally here. He couldn’t believe his dream was coming true. In just three years he would be a lawyer, assuming all went well with his schooling and the bar exam, of course. Visions of himself in the courtroom, standing before the judge, shot to his mind as he leaned against the wall and waited for his taxi. Jumping into the cab once it arrived, Cory saw himself waving his arms emphatically near the jury. He couldn’t wait for those visions to become reality. He smiled as he watched the streets of Houston fly by his window.
Cory would soon learn that law school wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The rumors he had heard were actually too kind. Students were ridiculed; teachers were eccentric and specific. First-year students were yelled at, embarrassed, and second-guessed during every new session. Cory tried to look at the education in a positive light. After all, in the courtroom he would not be given a second chance. If he did not have the information immediately accessible, it could cost him the case. At least for the moment, the only thing it was costing Cory was his pride and perhaps a grade or two when he was asked to stand in front of the class and recite information that he had not yet run across in his studies. The embarrassment only drove Cory to stud
y harder, causing him to seldom leave his apartment except for classes and trips to the library. He didn’t look at school as work. He loved the law and devoured every lesson with fervor.
When the day came that Cory stood in front of the class and shot answers at the professor as fast as he could ask the questions, Cory grinned. He was going to be good at this. Eventually, he was given a question he had no answer for, and he sank back into his seat, absorbing the ridicule without a care. He had lasted longer than anyone else in the class.
When Cory enrolled in law school, three years had seemed like a long time, but the time passed quickly, and he was about to graduate from Thurgood Marshall’s School of Law. In his last year, Cory was thrilled to become a clerk at a huge firm in town, Dell, Smith, and Pinkney. Most of the time Cory rushed about, delivering mail and coffee to the associates and sometimes even the partners. Occasionally, though, he would be drawn into an actual case and asked to research past cases for reference. Cory loved his hours in the law library. It was dark and dusty, and there were no windows, but he was among the greatest cases, and that’s exactly where he felt he belonged.
He nearly choked on his morning bagel when Daniel Dell himself approached one morning. He had only seen the man a few times in passing. Cory had nodded at him in the hall on his way to the mail room for his daily deliveries. He may have even handed him a fresh cup of coffee on occasion. He didn’t think they had ever spoken a full sentence to each other, and at this point Cory could barely remember his own name.
“Cory James?” Dell asked, raising one large, gray, bushy eyebrow.
“Yes, sir!” Cory stated a little too enthusiastically. With his cheeks reddening, he placed his bagel on his napkin and stood before Mr. Dell.
“I hear you do great research, and I could really use the help.”
Cory stared in awe of the legendary man. This lawyer could try a case with both arms tied behind his back, blind folded, without speaking a word, and still win. At least that was how the stories went.
“I need you to study every case that involves power plant explosions, anything to do with mandatory evacuations, reparations, and the like,” Dell commanded, placing his hand on Cory’s shoulder and guiding him down the hall. “Memorize every word, Mr. James, and have every detail on my desk before you leave.” Dell waved his eyebrows at Cory as he gave him a gentle push toward the stairway, expecting him to rush right to the library. And of course, Cory did.
Cory understood the importance of any case that Daniel Dell tried. He only took the cream of the crop, the tough cases with big possible benefits. Cory couldn’t believe Dell had chosen him to do his research. He felt honored to spend the rest of the afternoon and all of the evening in the dank dusty dungeon of a library, completing the research with the precision of a surgeon.
After Cory believed he had every case he needed and then some, he began organizing and reading each stack. He didn’t know why he had been told to memorize the cases, but he wasn’t going to question Daniel Dell. Early in the morning, his eyes exhausted, but his body exhilarated, Cory moved from the dusty library to the top floor where his feet sank into the plush carpet. The area was dark except for a few hall lights and one office in the corner. Cory moved with quick steps. He had been on this floor delivering mail many times, so he knew right where to go.
As he approached the only lighted office on the floor, his heart skipped a beat. Daniel Dell was at his desk, typing furiously and muttering under his breath. Cory hovered in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come in, Mr. James?” Dell asked gruffly without looking up or pausing as he clacked away on his keyboard.
Cory eased into the room, shifting the pile of research from one arm to the other.
“You can set those on that chair,” Dell said, waving his hand to a shiny black leather chair with beautifully hand carved wooded legs. The typing continued as Cory carefully situated the stack on the chair. Just as he was about to leave, the clacking abruptly stopped.
“Now, you have every word memorized. Right, Mr. James?” Dell asked, looking at Cory over the rims of his glasses as they slid down his nose.
“That’s right, Sir,” Cory affirmed, quickly running the documents through his mind.
“Good,” Dell said, pushing the glasses back up his nose with a thick finger. “You’ll assist me in court tomorrow. 2:00 p.m. with Judge Hascall. Don’t be late! Now, go home and get some sleep.” Dell placed his fingers back over the keyboard as Cory nodded in astonishment and backed out of the room.
He was going to court with THE Daniel Dell tomorrow! He had been through many mock court proceedings in school, and he spent many of his free hours at the courthouse observing trials which were open to the public. But this would be the first time he would be directly involved in a trial. Cory knew he had to be well rested, but his mind would not let him relax as he ran the case information endlessly through his head.
* * * *
Jordan settled into her job at Heritage Homes with ease. It was where she was meant to be. It took her only a few weeks to learn the ins and outs of the shelter, and before they knew it, she could efficiently do any job in the office. Jordan was happy with her position and thrived on helping the executive director acquire donations, initiate new guests, and prepare press releases for the media. No two days were alike with every day providing a different opportunity to help a new person. Jordan was in her element and loved every working minute. There was little time when Jordan wasn’t working since she had no family in the area and no friends outside the shelter. She spent every waking moment organizing, coordinating, and filing.
The executive director, Nancy, was more pleased with Jordan through each passing year. Her arrival and influence had eased the pressure on Nancy in a profound way. Nancy’s only concern was that Jordan was so talented that she should be directly impacting the families they helped rather than assisting with Nancy’s dirty work.
Nancy was thinking these very thoughts as she watched Jordan place her arm around a weary child. The way the little girl brightened after a few words from Jordan was uncanny. Nancy looked down at the file she held. This could be just what she had in mind for Jordan.
Jordan checked with Nancy later that day to make sure nothing had come up for her to handle. Nancy asked Jordan to come into her office. “There is something old I’d like for you to handle for me,” Nancy began, pushing the folder across the desk for Jordan to examine.
Jordan opened the folder and quickly skimmed its contents. “The Miller file?” she asked.
Nancy nodded, “The Miller file.”
“But doesn’t the social worker normally handle these issues?” Jordan questioned.
Nancy tilted her head and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s right, Jordan, and I think it’s high time you learn that position. After all, Margot’s near retirement. She just brought it up again the other day.”
“But, I have no training!” Jordan protested.
“And that’s why I want you to get started. Consider this your first lesson. I need you to take the Miller file down to the courthouse in Houston. See what you can find out. These people have been pushed around practically their whole life, and it’s time someone stood up for their interests. I’m pretty sure you can get things cleared up at the courthouse without too much trouble,” Nancy said assuredly.
Jordan heard the confidence in her voice and began to mentally build a plan. She respected Nancy more than anyone she had ever known. If sNancy thought Jordan could clear the Miller’s name, then that is exactly what she would do.
“All right,” Jordan conceded. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.”
* * * *
Cory adjusted his briefcase in his lap as he looked nervously at the clock. It was only 9:00, but he was already at the courthouse. He had stopped by the law offices quickly to grab a few files, and now he was sitting in the courthouse hallway on an uncomfortable wooden bench perusing the manila
folders. Cory wanted to brief himself on the case he was about to witness and review the information he had memorized to decide which cases would be most relevant and more likely needed.
Cory didn’t know why he had decided to do this work in the courthouse hall rather than at his much more comfortable, though cramped, desk at the law office. Maybe, he concluded, it was better to prepare in the atmosphere of the actual courthouse where the case would be heard. Nodding his head and twirling a loose black strand of hair around his finger, Cory dove into the files in his lap. His back was already aching from the hard wooden seat, so he folded his legs and sat Indian style. It was not a very professional posture, but the pressure on his back was relieved and he was more comfortable.
Though Cory’s proceeding wasn’t for hours, the courthouse was already humming with daily business. Lawyers hustled importantly up and down the hallway in freshly pressed suits, and stenographers bustled by his bench carrying materials beneath their arms. On any other day, Cory would have been distracted by the constant commotion, but today his eyes were glued to the case before him.
The hallway quieted on occasion as the lawyers reached their destinations, and all office employees were in their correct positions. These were the moments Cory took to look up from his reading and chew on a piece of information, rolling it around in his brain to fully grasp its meaning. One such moment was almost eerily quiet as Cory noted that it was still only nine thirty. The clack of a single pair of heels sounding from the other end of the hall caught Cory’s attention.
Looking at the shoes, Cory noticed that they were different from most of the shoes he’d seen hurry past. They were black and professional, but not highly polished and brand new as were most of the lawyers’ shoes. They were scuffed and well worn and held a muscular pair of legs. Cory’s eyes traveled up the woman just in time to catch the back of her head, holding a prim knot of black hair as she ducked into a room. Cory had to admit he wasn’t thinking about the woman’s hair or shoes anymore. He couldn’t get his mind off those legs. He hadn’t seen legs shaped like that since…Jordan.
Someone Always Loved You Page 12
