Justice for All

by Olivia Hardin

  Jeremy got up and put his arm around his wife. “Kay, Daddy’s right. They did what they had to. I believe them.”

  Kay’s shoulders sagged a bit as she realized her brother wouldn’t see things her way. When she watched Brennan give Jeremy a look of appreciation, her chest tingled with pain, and she fought back tears.

  “I have to check on Hope,” Brennan finally said as he hurried after her.

  “Will someone please tell me what's going on?” Meg pleaded.

  “Come, girl,” Daddy said and took her hand. “It's a long story.”

  When everyone else was gone, and it was just Kay and her brother, she stepped close to him with hands out, pleading. “They're fugitives,” she uttered hoarsely.

  “I'm sorry, Kay, but I've been watching him, and he's an honorable man. Just think of what he did for her. They hadn't even spoken for years, and still he gave up everything to help her. Could you or I have done the same for someone? I don't know that I could.”

  Jeremy tried to give her a hug, but she splayed her arms wide to force his hands away. Her brother rolled his shoulders back and then stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I love you, Kay. Trust me on this one.”

  Van hefted his bag up over his shoulder and closed the door of his truck with his foot before walking towards the house. There was something about coming home that always struck him somewhere in the center of his chest. His parents had built this house years before Van was even born. In fact, this was their “baby” in many ways since his mother believed she wouldn’t be able to have children at all. She would never cease calling him her little miracle.

  There were enough rooms in the country house to sleep at least six in separate bedrooms. Many more than that with folks bunking together. He used to complain as a youngster that sleepovers at his house weren’t as much fun because boys had too much room to spread out.

  Thinking back on those memories now, he grunted and shook his head. He could smell the Christmas bread baking when he stepped onto the old wooden porch. The paint was chipping a little at the entry, and he mentally reminded himself that next spring he should take some time off to help Mom with upkeep.

  As soon as his head popped into the living room, his Uncle Ross raised both arms in an excited gesture. “Hey! If it isn’t Perry Mason. Merry Christmas!”

  Before the older man could get out of his chair, Van dropped his bags and got to him first, leaning down to embrace him. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Ross.”

  About that time, steps sounded behind him and a large hand smacked him on the back. He looked up to see his Uncle Lonnie grinning down at him. Van was a tall man, but Lonnie had a good six inches on him. And the family insisted that Lonnie had at one time been about two to three inches taller than he was now.

  “Have a good trip, son?”

  Van shook his uncle’s hand, then pulled him in for a bear-hug. “Yes sir, very good trip. So how far along are we?”

  The men knew exactly what he meant. The hens had a process of cooking and baking. The brandy scent of the Christmas bread was wafting through the house so that should mean the women were just about two-thirds of the way through.

  “Just stole a lick of the batter from the bowl. If you hurry, you can catch some before they stick it in the dishwasher.” Uncle Lonnie winked and pointed his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Counter on the left.”

  Van dropped his things onto the bed in his room, just off the front entryway and detoured to the kitchen. The hens were busy at work and he took a moment to just stand there and watch them. They had their routine down to an art. The kitchen wasn’t huge, by any means, but the three women could work around each other with ease and fluidity.

  Aunt Mac was busy telling a story about her neighbor who was enamored with the new choir director at church. She never missed a beat, passing a spice to Van’s mom without the other woman even having to ask for it by name.

  “Mac, you are such a gossip!” his mom said, sighing heavily even as she chopped up some carrots.

  “Ginny Sue, don’t you use that tone with me. You know good and well that just yesterday you were talking about Evelyn’s daughter carrying on with the Travis boy in Lindale.”

  Aunt Betty chortled with laughter and threw a handful of something that looked utterly disgusting into the sink, turning on the garbage disposal to churn it down the drain. While they were all occupied, Van made his way towards the left counter and the still batter-coated bowl his uncle had told him to find. Just as he dipped his finger into it, a hand popped him on the knuckles.

  “Audrick Van Buren! You know better than that.”

  He grinned at Aunt Mac and threw back his head to laugh. The air was nearly knocked out of him when his mother slammed into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Oh dear,” she muttered when she finally let him go. “I have dressing all over my apron.”

  Van looked down at the smudges of Italian dressing splotching his front. “And now it’s all over me. Luckily I brought a change of clothes. Good to see you, Mom.” he leaned down and pecked her on the forehead.

  “Hello, Van,” Aunt Mac, the closer of the two aunts, squeezed in front of Mom and also embraced him, stepping quickly aside so that Aunt Betty could sneak in last.

  Ginny Sue had a nervous look on her face, eyeing his soiled shirt and jeans. He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Stop, Mom.”

  “Are they the very expensive jeans?”

  He squeezed her arm affectionately and then gazed at all of the goodies in various stages of preparation. “It’s good to see some things never change. Now what are you hens going to let me sample this evening?”

  “Some things never change alright,” Mac snorted and then presented him with her back, taking up her spatula to continue whipping some concoction.

  “Here’s a cookie, son,” Aunt Betty smiled, handing him one of his mom’s frosted sugar cookies. As an afterthought, she grabbed one, too and broke off half of it, popping it into her mouth whole. He knew as soon as he wasn’t looking she’d eat the other half, too. There was a reason his beloved aunt had so much girth to her. “All the more to love,” he often said when she complained of her weight.

  “Did you have a good drive, Van?” Mom asked, grabbing the knife again.

  “I did. Once you get clear of the city, it’s straight and easy.” He enjoyed his cookie as he leaned against the refrigerator and watched them. “Is a glass of milk permissible?”

  Aunt Betty giggled and leaned up to grab a cup, handing it to him behind her back. He’d just finished pouring a glass and was putting the jug back into the nearly-full fridge when his mother spoke up in a voice he’d learned long ago to recognize.

  “How are all of your friends at the firm, dear?”

  Now two things sent his antennae on alert. First, she’d never once asked him about his law firm friends before. He didn’t really consider them friends in the intimate sort of way his mother would mean the term. No, he mainly had associates. Second, Ginny Sue Van Buren was undoubtedly fishing for something specific. Her words had taken on a shrill tone.

  “My friends are just fine, Mom.”

  She turned to face him, wiping her hands on her apron and chewing her lip while she studied him. Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her chin to her chest. Van grinned, wiped the milk from his upper lip, and raised an eyebrow. Finally she nodded and presented him with her back again. “What’s her name? The blonde.”

  Van nearly spewed his milk all over the varieties of food laid out on the island. In order to keep from making a fool of himself, he had to swallow a huge gulp all at once, and the cold liquid was painful going down. He rubbed at his Adam’s apple and then carefully put his cup onto the counter. “Mom?”

  Her eyes cast to the side, and she had a faraway gaze. “She’s very pretty, at least what I could make out. There was … something strange about her phone. She should get rid of it.” She shook her head and focused on him again, smiling. “I’m glad to know you’re tak
ing an interest in someone. Especially the right one.”

  The running story in the family was that Ginny Sue saw visions. Van’s dad was supposedly saved from certain death in a bus accident when he was on his way home after his service in Korea. Ginny Sue warned him to wait one more night in San Diego before heading out. He had been wise enough to follow her direction and missed an accident that had killed a lot of people.

  To date, Van had never had any reason to believe to stories. His mom hadn’t had a vision, at least one she’d shared with him, since he was a kid. And as a kid he hadn’t really had enough understanding to think that she might really have some ability. To him, it was always just weird.

  “The right one?” he asked, his voice cracking just a bit.

  “Yes, the right one. I’m really looking forward to meeting her, Van. Are you going to tell me her name?”

  All three women were now staring at him with intense interest. He felt a little hot around the collar and wondered if he might actually be blushing. Certainly not. He thought to himself.

  Van’s eyes skimmed the room, anything so that he wouldn’t make contact with any of the hens. Finally he squinted and asked, “Where’s Ralph?”

  “Humph,” his mother fussed. “He’s not allowed in the house right now. He rolled around in something God-awful and stinks to high heaven. You can go see him out in the shed.”

  He kissed her forehead again and fled the room as fast as he could.

  When he got to the shed and opened the door, Ralph nearly knocked him to the ground. His mother hadn’t been exaggerating. Ralph had gotten into something absolutely rancid. Doing his best to breathe only through his mouth, he dropped back onto the ground and nuzzled his beloved beagle around the ears.

  “Miss me, boy? I missed you, too. Believe me, I’d take you home if I thought you wouldn’t hate the city. You’re a country boy, Ralph.”

  The brown and white dog licked at Van’s face and whined as if in pain. The two rolled around in the dirt and grass until Ralph finally calmed down enough that he could get back onto his feet.

  “C’mon, boy. It’s time to bathe some of this funk off you.”

  Van rolled over in bed and felt a cold, wet nose nuzzle into his neck. He reached a hand up from under the blankets and scratched Ralph behind the ear. In return, the dog licked his arm and then groaned with a huge stretch as Van scooting up to a sitting position.

  “Merry Christmas, boy.”

  Out of habit, Van reached for the nightstand and grabbed his smartphone, flicking through emails. He could smell the beginnings of breakfast from beyond his room, and his stomach rumbled in reaction. He knew when he walked into the kitchen, Aunt Betty would hand him a glass of orange juice before he even had the chance to say good morning.

  The thought of juice made his mind naturally revert to Kay. The easiness of that evening together was something he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind. He wasn’t one to give in to daydreaming but he wondered what things would be like if they were a couple. Would she help him strategize his regular Diplomacy games before bed? Would she sit at the bar and sip at her coffee while he made her breakfast?

  And if his thoughts of casual intimacy weren’t enough, thoughts of what he wanted to do to her in the bedroom had his body immediately reacting. He reached down to adjust himself, then scrolled through his phone to find her number.

  Before he could think better of it and stop himself, he texted her a simple Merry Christmas, then hopped out of bed to hit the bathroom. When he returned, there was a message from her that left him grinning.

  Merry Christmas. Are the hens making you breakfast? Just about to get dressed for church here.

  His lips tugged up into an even bigger smile. I can smell breakfast right now. I’ll make my appearance shortly in the kitchen to see what’s cooking.

  Slipping into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, he grabbed at the phone a little too quickly when he heard the next notification.

  I hope you, the hens, and the roosters and all of your family have a very nice holiday, Van. Thanks again for the other night.

  And even in a text message, she could turn him speechless. Not that he couldn’t think of anything to respond, it was just that nothing he could say would be appropriate to his way of thinking. Everything that came to mind would only lead her on … and lead him on for that matter.

  Van stood still at the foot of his bed, phone held out in front of him. Ralph wiggled up, slithering on his belly. When he looked down at the dog, Ralph’s ears shifted back, and he cocked his head to the side.

  “Yeah, boy, I know. I know…”

  Then he whistled and flicked his wrist to motion Ralph down and dropped the phone into his pocket before heading for the kitchen.

  ~oOo~

  Kay stared at her cell phone a few moments and willed Van to make a reply. Silence screamed back at her. With a groan at her own silliness, she tossed the phone into the freshly made bed and started getting dressed. When a notification sounded, she practically jumped onto the phone to look at it.

  Disappointment washed over her when she saw that it was a holiday text from Thomas. She quickly tapped a reply, then made her way into the bathroom suite to finish straightening her hair. There were several more dings to her phone, and she managed to restrain herself through about three of them before going back into the bedroom for it.

  “Damn, Thomas,” she muttered to herself. “Get a life, man.”

  Merry Christmas hadn’t been enough apparently. Now he was staging photos with his Breaking Bad gifts. Even while she took a look at those, a few more popped up. Annoyed by his obsessive actions, she switched the phone to the lowest ring setting and placed it on the nightstand.

  There were voices from the hallway so she peeked her head out and walked to the banister to look down into the vestibule. Her father was cooing to the baby, leaning against his cane with his face close to hers. The little one slapped at his nose, gurgling in response. Michelle looked very pretty in a dress of red velvet and with a plaid headband around her golden curls.

  Hope said something Kay couldn’t hear, to which her father nodded and laughed. There was something very domestic and comfortable about the scene. Something Kay somehow felt she couldn’t fit into. She was again reminded of her mother’s feminine virtues. Waves of insecurity rolled over her, and she quietly closed the door and dropped down onto the bed, her shoulders slouched.

  There was a tap at her door, and she jumped with a start. “Yes?”

  “We’ll be leaving in just a few moments. Are you ready?” Jeremy spoke.

  She swallowed to get past the dryness in her mouth, but that didn’t seem to be working. When she finally spoke, it sounded like a frog stuck in her throat. “Uhm, I’m sorry. I woke up late. I’ll try to get ready and meet you there.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Tears stung her eyes and she nodded then smacked her forehead, knowing he couldn’t see her gesture. “I’m fine, Jeremy. Don’t worry. If I don’t see you at services, I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Merry Christmas, sis.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she murmured, barely getting the words out before tears began streaming down her face.

  Kay managed to cry out most of her worry and frustrations, but she didn’t pull herself together in time for church. Today her father’s kitchen workers were given the morning off to be with their family. They would all return to make a large meal later, but in the meantime, they’d left lots of pastries and goodies for breakfast and brunch in the dining room.

  Kay took a croissant and a muffin from the batch then placed them on a little dish to heat in the microwave. While the goodies spun around the carousel, she poured herself a cup of coffee. Her father’s newspaper was sitting on the table, and she could almost imagine him sitting there nursing his coffee while perusing the day’s news.

  “Ready to talk about it?”

  She jumped when Jeremy’s voice disturbed the silence of the house. Slowly inhali
ng, she turned on her heel and dropped her head to the side to glare at her brother. “Why aren’t you at church?”

  “Ah.” He put his hand to his heart. “I guess I’ll have to make a confession.”

  She snorted. “We’re Episcopal, Jeremy.”

  They stared at each other a moment, then both burst into laughter. Some of their Durman cousins were Roman Catholic, and as children they’d often complained that they’d have to go to confession if they did anything naughty. Jeremy and Kay used to find that “cop-out” excuse hysterical and would tease each other with those words when they were teenagers. It had been about that long since they’d used the joke.

  Once he had his breath, Jeremy rubbed his stomach and then faced her with a serious expression. “Just tell me what’s going on, Kay. I heard you crying before we left.”

  Her hand trembled, and she watched little ripples appear in her coffee. She placed the cup onto the table and dropped into the closest seat. Jeremy pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, leaning his head into one hand to watch her.

  “You could’ve backed me up, Jeremy. I mean, we don’t know them. We don’t know anything about them. And what they’ve done putting you and Daddy in danger like this is intolerable.”

  “Intolerable, Kay? This isn’t a courtroom. They had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t as if they were searching us out. He has a deed to Aunt Iggie’s house, for goodness sakes.”

  Kay rubbed a finger along her upper lip and considered that a moment.

  “He resembles us. He’s our cousin.”

  “What do you remember about Aunt Iggie?”

  “I was just a kid, Kay. I don’t remember much…”

  She huffed the air between her teeth. “You have to remember something.”

  He only shrugged.

  “C’mon. I remember Nanny reading the three little pigs to me when I was three years old. I remember the way the way she huffed and puffed, Jeremy.” Her voice rose steadily until it was almost a scream. “I remember that and yet you don’t remember much?”