The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I realize that.”

  “Which brings me to why I asked you here. The jury of men will be boggled down enough with facts, witnesses, and the burden of decision. They can’t be worried that they will no longer shine in their Captain’s eyes, a man they highly respect. A man whose stepmother is standing trial. Do you get where I’m going?”

  Hal nodded. “I think so.”

  “I need you, sir, to speak to these men. I need your word, Captain, that you will not try to influence them. And . . . that no matter what decision they reach, you must assure them they will not be punished or thought of any less.”

  “Has this been brought to your attention?”

  “Since the selection on more than one occasion.”

  “I see.” Hal let out a breath. “Then I will speak to the jury. It’s the least I can do.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  The day was going to be long enough and Jess was grateful he at least got a seven a.m. start to it. It was early enough for him to make breakfast for him and Robbie and straighten up the house that he swore was in good order when he went to bed. At first he wondered how it happened, but the moment he saw Robbie lying on the bottom of the steps, where he seemingly passed out, Jess could only guess.

  “Robbie.” Jess crouched down by him, laughing as he looked at Robbie’s reaching hand just laying on the third step. “Get up.”

  Robbie moaned.

  Jess looked at Frank, who stood right by them. “He’s out.”

  Frank held up a finger and whispered. “Let me try.” He squatted down close to Robbie’s head. “ROBBIE! GET UP!”

  “Uh!” Robbie sprang to his hands and knees then whined and lowered his head.

  “Pathetic.” Frank nudged him with his foot. “Go get showered. We have to go to New Bowman for the trial. Move it.”

  “I am,” Robbie grumbled.

  “Move it!” Frank blasted like the drill sergeant he used to be.

  “Frank! All right! Fuck!” Another moan brought Robbie to a crawl. And slowly, but still moving, hands and knees, he went up those steps.

  “Thanks for radioing,” Frank told Jess.

  “I’ve been trying for an hour. He wouldn’t move.”

  “He was fuckin blasted last night.”

  “He was scared to death of you.” Jess walked to the kitchen

  “He should be. I’m still not done with him. Like I needed that.” Frank followed. “Learning the letter shit on the same day El went out with Sgt. Fuckin Ryder. I wonder how that went.”

  “Well,” Jess answered. “Nothing happened between them if that’s . . .” Jess saw the odd look Frank gave him. “That’s . . . what?”

  Frank looked at his watch. “It’s six-thirty. When did you speak to El about her date?”

  “Last night.’

  “I see. Why?”

  “She called me.”

  “I see. Why?”

  “To tell me.”

  “I see . . .”

  “Frank.” Jess laughed. “We’re friends.”

  “That’s right, like girlfriends. I get it.” Frank winked. “I forgot. O.K.”

  “Forgot what?” Jess asked.

  “You know.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “That you aren’t a threat. I forgot about it.”

  Jess could assume he knew what Frank was talking about but he’d rather not take that chance. One never could tell where Frank’s mind was. That was dangerous. “What did you forget?”

  “You know.” Frank winked again, held up his hand, flickered his little finger, and pointed at Jess.

  “Oh my God.” Jess turned, and hurried into the kitchen, wishing he would have stuck with assuming.

  “Hey, Jess, got a new nick name for ya.” Arrogantly, as usual, Frank snickered and followed. “Tinker . . . bell.”

  ^^^^

  ^^^^

  Dean was filled with certain amount of tense ‘under the microscope’ feeling as he reached under the counter in the lab. “It’ll only take a moment.”

  “I’m in no hurry,” Bev stated. “It’s not bad now. But it really is at night.”

  “Prop up on pillows,” Dean said and stood up.

  “Is it normal? This heartburn?” Bev touched her chest.

  “Kind of early for it to be bad, but, yeah, it’s normal.” Dean handed her the bottle. “One spoonful as needed. Don’t go overboard or you’ll get . . .”

  “Oh.” Bev’s eyes fluttered and her body shuddered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  With her hand on her stomach, Bev raised her eyes. “That was the strongest he’s kicked. Here . . .” She reached for Dean’s hand.

  “No, I . . .”

  “Here.” Forcefully, Bev grabbed Dean’s hand and laid it on her stomach.

  Dean tried to get away then he felt the ‘tap’ against the palm of his hand.

  Bev giggled. “Did you feel that? Did you feel your son?”

  “He’s not my son, Bev.”

  Bev still held his hand to her stomach. “Yes, he is Dean. And this could very well be the last child you have. Don’t you want him? Feel that.” Bev smiled at another kick.

  Ellen was barely out of the truck and waving to Elliott before she had her cell phone out dialing as she walked into the clinic. “Jess. Hey, yeah.” She giggled opening the door. “Oh Jess, wait until you hear this. You’re gonna say I’m silly.” Ellen walked down the corridor. “But I had to tell you . . .” Ellen stopped in the lab door. “I’ll call you back.” She knew Jess said something but she didn’t know what it was. Her focus was too much on the fact that Dean stood with Bev in the lab. His hand was on her stomach. Bev was smiling and so was Dean.

  Was she actually seeing what she thought? Was this the same man who pled contempt for a woman who was setting him up? A woman who falsely claimed a pregnancy to him? Yet, Dean was a sucker, and Ellen knew it, for feeling a child kick. But Ellen could recall that in all the stomachs Dean had felt, his face only lit up when he was feeling his own child.

  No words. No announcement. Ellen walked into the lab.

  Dean saw her immediately and his hand moved from Bev. “El.”

  “Morning.” Ellen just walked to get her things for Elliott’s testing.

  With a fake awkward smile, Bev side stepped from Dean. “Thanks for the medication.” She grabbed the bottle and moved to the door. “And thanks, Dean,” she aired out her words in awe. “Thank you for sharing that moment.” She really wanted to stay and watch the fireworks, but knew she couldn’t, so she just left.

  Ellen kept her composure. “What dosage of the triathorazon are we going with this week? I know the Radadine will still be the same. Elliott will be . . .”

  “Ellen.” Dean walked to her. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Ellen grabbed her things and laid them on the counter. “Should we use Exam Room Two?”

  “For what you saw. That was wrong. That . . .” Dean closed his eyes. “That was so wrong of me.”

  “Feeling your own child?” Ellen tossed the items in a tray.

  “Feeling Bev’s stomach with all she has done to us.”

  “Stop.” Ellen held up her hand. “What she has done? I said ‘your child’, Dean. Where’s the denial.”

  “Ellen.”

  “No. Since the beginning of this you have denied that baby as yours. What? All of the sudden a simple fetal kick sends you into a paternal frenzy? All of the sudden that other baby you wanted, the baby I can’t give you, is real?” Ellen snatched up the tray. “I saw the look on your face, Dean. I’ve seen it before.”

  Dean reached out and stopped her. “I am not lying when I said I never touched her or slept with her. There is no way I conceived that child sexually with that girl. But . . . But . . .” Dean released her arm. “You and I both know what those test results read. She and this other person either rigged the result or she found some way to get a hold of my sperm. Those results say ‘Hayes’. As much as I de
spise her for what she has done, I’m sorry, but the second the baby is born and I personally handle those results, if that child still spells ‘Hayes’, whether it’s mine or my father’s like I suspect,” Dean paused. “I’m raising that child as my own. I won’t turn my back on him. I can’t. You’ll have to accept that. I hope that you’ll accept it with me and we’ll . . .”

  “We’ll!” Ellen laughed emotionally. “What are you crazy? Fuck you! We’ll? We’ll what? Raise that baby together? Raise it with Bev. You slept with her.”

  “I did not sleep with her!” Dean raged to Ellen. “Come on El, you know me. And if by some obscure theft of science this child is mine . . .”

  “It still part Bev’s!” Ellen yelled back then calmed down. “It’s still Bev’s. Give up, Dean. I won’t raise that baby with you. Fuck you for asking. Just give up on anything that puts us together. I have moved on.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I have.” Ellen moved to the door.

  “I love you. You love me. You don’t move on from that so easily.” Dean followed her. “Look, I know you’re hurt . . .”

  “Hurt?” Ellen backed up, almost chuckling. “I think you forgot what hurt is? Let me refresh your memory what hurt is.” She dropped her voice to a mean whisper. “Feel it. I’ve moved on. It’s over. I’ve already been with someone else . . . in our bed.” Ellen spun once in coldness and stormed out.

  Every single word Ellen spoke to Dean crushed him. He literally couldn’t breathe or move.

  ^^^^

  New Bowman, Montana

  “All rise.” Judge Grace’s court officer spoke as she walked in front of the bench and to her seat.

  The courtroom, sporadically seated, stood. Andrea was at the defense table with Danny and Trish. Henry was with Stan.

  “Good afternoon.” Grace took her seat behind the bench. “Today’s case, October twenty-seventh, the state of Beginnings of the United Western Alliance versus Andrea Winters-Slagel in the matter of treason. Both counselors know my stance. There will be no circus and no showmanship. Just simple facts, witness, and arguments. Mr. Kusakari, you may proceed.”

  Henry stood nervously and took the paper that Stan handed him. “Henry Kusakari for the prosecution.” Henry looked down to his scripted opening stated. “When we . . . we . . . shit.”

  Grace slammed her gavel. “Mr. Kusakari.”

  Henry ignored her and spun to Stan. “What the hell is this?”

  “Your opening statement.”

  “Mr. Kusakari!” Grace called out. “Are we starting yet?”

  “This . . .” Henry held up the paper. “Wait.” He went into his folder. “Where is it, asshole?” He whispered to Stan.

  “What?”

  “My original opening statement.”

  “At home.”

  Before Grace could yell at him again, Henry turned around with a forced smile. “It seems I can’t find my opening statement. Can I have a continuance?”

  “No.” Grace answered. “Go on.”

  “Shit.”

  Slam.

  “Sorry.” Henry snatched up the paper and read in a monotone and very fast. “When we are faced with injustice or resentment many of us do nothing about it that is not the case with Andrea Winters.” Henry took a breath. “She did not merely sit back like the rest of us and perhaps complain about what she didn’t like she struck out against the very community she started plotting and planning to help the other side bring us down witnesses letters tapes video testimony will show that Ms. Winters knew exactly what she was doing and who she was doing it to bringing about the loss of more lives that can be counted and in more ways than one she participated in acts of violence by way of plague, murder, kidnapping you name it masterminding it all conspiracy is her middle name and we the prosecution plan on showing you evidence that we are certain will bring about your verdict of guilty.” With a long deep wheeze of a breath, Henry sat down.

  The courtroom went quiet.

  “Well.” Grace cleared her throat. “Thank you. Mr. Hoi?”

  “Thank you, your Honor.” Danny stood up. “Daniel Jefferson Hoi for the defense.” He straightened his tie and walked over to the jury box. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Silence, complete silence, surrounded Danny as he took a few steps before them with his hands behind him. He stopped, faced the jury, and held his hands up in a marquee fashion. “Three words. Victim of circumstance.” He motioned out to Andrea. “Andrea Winters. Victim of circumstance. A traitor? No. A murderer? No. A victim of circumstance.” Danny nodded. “Is this frail woman a plotter or planner? No. She is a victim of . . . circumstance.” A few mumbles of his words joined him. “God fearing, Christian, mother, woman, wife. This . . . this is not a woman who deliberately set out to hurt a community that she helped found. She is merely . . . a victim of circumstance.” The jury joined him in the soft chant. “Yes.” Danny paced some more. “To know her is to love her. During these proceedings, you will get to know her. And I ask you, the jury, to keep one thing in your minds as you listen to the evidence. One thing. Three words.” Danny paused and a few more voices joined him. “Victim of circumstance. And you’ll see that everything that the prosecution shows you can be argued. If what they plan to show was a form of concrete this building was laid upon, right now we would sink into the earth. Listen to your hearts, your minds, and your common sense. Get to know this woman. See who she is. See that she would not commit these vial acts that she is accused of.” Danny gripped the railing. “When you see and know her, you will have no choice but to deliver a verdict of not guilty because not only is she, like you and I, a victim of a world taken from us, she is . . .” Danny nodded as the entire court room softly spoke with him. “A victim of circumstance.” With dramatic flair, he lifted his head and stepped back. “Thank you.”

  Andrea applauded so proudly until the gavel dropped. The trial was underway.

  ^^^^

  Andrews Air Force Base

  George looked so happy as he walked across the air field with his head held up high. He had a tool box in his hand and a knapsack with other items he would need. The concrete was cracked and weeds were almost as high as trees buried the fighter planes that still spewed about in their parking spots.

  “Get a cleanup crew out here,” George ordered to the man who walked with him. “I can’t work in a jungle.” He wandered aimlessly, trying to find the perfect protected plane. All of them showed the wear of non-attention. Center airfield, he spotted it. “Here,” he told the man who was with him and the man set down a ladder next to the plane. “Thanks.” George climbed up. “Now let’s take a look at how much work I have to do to get her back in shape.” Smiling, George opened the engine hood of the plane. “Shit.” George looked at the corroded wires lying about a rusted engine. “I guess more work than I thought.” George climbed down and continued on. He’d find the perfect plane that was easiest to get running. If not, he’d be like Dr. Frankenstein, take a piece from here and there to make the perfect engine.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  With chart in hand, Ellen raised her fist to Examining Room Two and knocked. “I’m coming in.” She opened the door.

  Elliott was putting on his shirt and immediately turned his back to her.

  Ellen giggled. “Why are you embarrassed? I’ve seen you naked, you know.”

  His hands stopped buttoning and Elliott looked up.

  “Oh, yeah,” Ellen said upbeat, walking around the table. “When you needed surgery. You also needed this little thing called a catheter. Guess who, uh, inserted that tiny tube into your . . .” Ellen motioned her head downward then looked back up with a flash of grin.

  “Oh my God.” Elliott graced himself with what was becoming his stock horrified look.

  “Kidding.”

  “Thank you,” Elliott breathed out.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Ellen.”

  “Kidding.” She smiled and nudged him. “The initial results
are in. Do you want them now or do you want to wait until a few days until we have them all?”

  “I would like to know now if you want to tell me.” Elliott finished buttoning his shirt. “I can tell by your face it’s not good news.”

  Ellen hesitated. “No change.”

  Elliott smiled. “Then it is good news.”

  “What?”

  “Am I worse?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m happy for that.”

  “Elliott?” Ellen’s hands smoothed across the chart in nervousness. “Can I talk to you about something else? It’s not medical. Do you have a minute?”

  “Yes.” Elliott finished tucking in his shirt. “What is it?”

  “I am . . . I am really going out on a limb here. I mean really going out. So try to think before you say anything and try not to make me feel embarrassed or bad.”

  The corner of Elliott’s mouth raised in a smile of confusion. “Go on.” Like Ellen, he leaned against the examining table as he talked to her.

  “Good.” Ellen smiled. “Elliott? Do you know what it means when someone in Beginnings uses the term ‘understanding’. As in, I’m having an ‘understanding?”

  “I think.” Elliott said. “Yes, I do.”

  “My reason.” Ellen stepped closer. “I’m in New Bowman all the time.” She softened her voice. “I . . . I like you Elliott. The primary usually calls this shot but not this time. I was just wondering if maybe you would like to be my understanding relationship?”

  Elliott’s mouth opened in shock.

  Dean’s voice emerged, “If that’s not the biggest violation of a patient doctor relationship, I don’t know what is.”

  Both Elliott and Ellen turned toward the door. Dean was walking in.

  “I can remember, Sgt. Ryder, you telling me your intentions were honorable with my wife.”