by Ava Miles
Amelia Ann tried to gauge Jasinda’s age. Most of the women she spoke to here looked much older than they really were. Their hard lives carved deep grooves into their faces.
“I can see if one of our staff members can play with Calvin and Kylie while we talk, if you’d like.” Whenever possible, they tried to give their client the chance to speak freely since many women self-censored themselves in front of their kids.
“I don’t want to leave you, Mama,” the little girl murmured, clinging to the woman’s faded jeans.
“You can stay with me, sugar. They’re fine here if that’s okay,” she said to Amelia Ann. “Kylie, you can sit on Mama’s lap.”
Once they were situated—with the little girl nestled on Jasinda’s lap and Calvin standing sentry beside them—Amelia Ann sat and scooted her chair a little closer to Jasinda’s.
“What can we help you with today?” Amelia Ann asked.
Jasinda’s brown eyes narrowed, and she cleared her throat a few times. “Well, I’m thinking about leaving my husband. Damon is his name. Things at home…have been difficult for a while. I…I mean I love him, but he lost his job last year and started drinking.”
Her hand rose to her neckline and rubbed the skin around the collar of her white shirt spotted with grease stains. There were purple bruises there too, and Amelia Ann knew without asking that someone had choked her. Her belly tightened, but she bore down, keeping her attention on Jasinda’s face.
“He loves the kids. I know he does, but he’s…” The first sob escaped the woman’s tense mouth. “I’m afraid he’s going to take his anger out on them one of these days. I’m used to it, but the little ones…I just can’t live with that possibility.”
Amelia Ann nodded sympathetically, and she waited for Felicia to begin her examination of the events.
“Have you ever called the police about an incident at home?” her boss began.
The woman shook her head violently. “No, that would only make things worse, you know? Damon’s got a terrible temper, and he hates the police.”
“Has he been in trouble with the law before, Jasinda?” Felicia asked.
The woman nodded, and Calvin grabbed one of her hands, making it clear which one of them was doing the comforting. So young and he was already his mama’s champion. Amelia Ann had seen it time and time again since she’d started working at the clinic.
“Okay, then, that’s good to know,” Felicia said in her signature calm, no-nonsense voice. “Are you interested in filing a protection order against your husband to keep him from being able to hurt you and possibly the kids?”
Jasinda’s lip trembled then, and a giant tear slid down her face. Though tears burned in her own eyes, Amelia Ann bit the inside of her cheek to keep them from falling. Learning to maintain some reserve while people bled out their tragic stories in front of her was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
“I don’t know,” Jasinda whispered. “Damon loves the kids, and if he thinks I’m trying to take them away, he’ll…go crazy. I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ve come to the right place, Jasinda. Amelia Ann and I are here to present you with some legal options to help you with your situation. This is your life, and you know what’s best for you and your children.”
She swiped at the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want him to hit me no more.”
Amelia Ann nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course you don’t,” she finally said. “We can help with that.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I…when I think about being on my own without any money…”
One of the most surprising things about working at the clinic had been discovering how few women’s shelters there were in the area. So many of the women who came here didn’t have anywhere to go, let alone any money to rent an apartment or house. Add children to the situation, and it was doubly hard.
“I’ve thought about getting a job at the grocery store to save up some money, you know? But I’m afraid to leave the kids alone with Damon.”
As well she should be given everything Jasinda had told them.
“Let’s run through some scenarios for you,” Felicia said, “so you can think about them and come to a decision. Then, depending on what you decide, we can see whether or not we can help you with your next steps. For cases like this, my colleagues and I like to confer with one another.”
“Okay,” she responded, wiping away her tears with a tissue her daughter had plucked out of her pocket.
That simple act had Amelia Ann biting the inside of her cheek. She glanced over at Calvin and gave him a soft smile, but he only stared off with unfocused eyes.
Felicia started to run through the various actions Jasinda could take. The more she talked,
the larger the whites of Jasinda’s eyes became. She was obviously overwhelmed, and who could blame her? Amelia Ann couldn’t imagine the horrors she’d endured, and she could only hope she would escape her situation safely.
One thing she’d learned at the clinic was that the time immediately before a battered woman removed herself from her situation was statistically the most dangerous. Unless a woman and her kids had somewhere else to go, filed a protection order, and started immediate separation proceedings, the situation was like a pressure cooker with the lid on.
“Do you have your identification with you?” Amelia Ann asked the woman, who nodded and dug it out of her wallet.
“I’ll just go make a copy and be right back.”
After making a copy of the ID, she poured three glasses of water into the paper cups stacked near the water fountain and managed to carry everything back to the group.
The kids didn’t want the water, but Jasinda guzzled hers down quickly. “Thank you for your help.”
Felicia shared a glance with Amelia Ann, and she took the cue. “Jasinda, in case you decide to file a protection order, would you like me to take some pictures of your bruises? I promise they won’t be used unless you choose that option, and I’ll delete them if you decide against it.”
For some reason, Felicia had deemed her more approachable when it came to asking clients to allow her to take what could essentially become police evidence.
Jasinda raised a hand to her cheekbone, her fingers shaking like she was in detox. “I tried to put makeup on it…”
“Of course you did,” Amelia Ann said.
“I’m so ugly now,” Jasinda whispered. “I used to be pretty.”
Oh, how her heart tore, hearing that. “No, sweetheart. You’re still pretty. It’s just hard to see it with those bruises.”
“You can take the pictures, but I don’t want my babies to watch.”
Felicia stood immediately. “I’ll look after them for you. Calvin? Kylie? Would you like some hot chocolate? My kids love the kind I make.”
“Hot chocolate?” Jasinda said with a forced thread of delight in her voice. “You haven’t had that in ages, chickens. Go on with the nice lady for a moment. Calvin, watch out for your sister.”
“Yes, Mama,” the boy said and took Kylie’s hand, helping her off Jasinda’s lap.
The little girl seemed reluctant to leave her mama, and she kept looking back until they were out of view. As soon as she was sure her kids couldn’t see her, Jasinda started to weep in earnest, and Amelia Ann didn’t hesitate for a moment. She wrapped the woman up in a hug and rocked her, tears burning in her eyes the whole time.
When she left today, she was going to have a good cry.
They took the pictures in the bathroom, and Amelia Ann had to school her features when the woman raised her shirt and revealed a trail of black and purple bruises trailing over her ribs and the small of her back. Jasinda’s body was bowed now in shame, and Amelia Ann took the pictures as quickly as she could.
“Okay, Jasinda, I have them all,” she said. “That was very brave.”
The grooves around her mouth deepened as she pulled her shirt back into place. They headed back to Felicia�
�s desk.
“I don’t feel very brave. I’m scared every second of the day when Damon’s home. When he isn’t, I jump at the slightest noise.”
Tammy had done the same, although Amelia Ann and her mama had attributed her jumpiness to nerves. How had they been so blind?
“I’ll let you know what I decide,” Jasinda said, folding the paper Felicia had given her with the legal advice she’d sketched out and tucked it inside her bra. When she noticed Amelia Ann was watching, she shrugged. “Damon can’t find this.”
No, he couldn’t, and every time they sent a client out with that piece of paper containing legal advice that could change their life they had to live with the knowledge it could turn into dynamite in the wrong situation.
“Let’s go find Kylie and Calvin.”
The kids were huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, drinking their hot chocolate. Felicia was sitting near them and asking them about their school. Calvin was responding. Kylie remained mute.
“We need to go, chickens,” Jasinda told them. “Drink up your cocoa and thank the nice lady.”
“They already did,” Felicia said. “Your children have wonderful manners.”
The first touch of a real smile emerged on her face, and she looked years younger. “They’re great kids. Thank you for your help today.”
Felicia took the cups from the children and deposited them in the garbage. “We’ll look forward to hearing from you. If you decide you want to move forward, and we take your case, we can visit you next time. Judging from your address, you live quite a ways from here.”
“It took over an hour on the bus, but we managed. I’ll let you know.”
“Let me give you my cell phone number,” Felicia said and waited as the woman dug into her purse for her cell.
“I can give you mine too,” Amelia Ann added. “Please call if you need anything.”
Even though she had only worked at Community Legal for a short while, between Felicia’s hands-on training and her own observations, Amelia Ann had developed a knack for guessing who would move forward.
Jasinda was going to move forward.
After the family left, Amelia Ann grabbed her things since it was well past her shift and headed back to Felicia’s desk. Her boss was finishing up some emails.
“She’s going to leave him,” she said in a clear voice, the only spot of hope she’d gleaned from the interview.
Felicia sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I think so too.”
“Are we going to take her on?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll talk to the other attorneys, but they’ll agree after hearing me out. When she calls back, I’d like your help with her. She seemed to feel most at ease around you.”
The tears she’d been holding back swam to the surface. “She’s a good woman. She doesn’t deserve what’s happening. And the kids…”
She had to blink to keep the tears from falling.
“Go home, honey. You’ve put in a good day.”
“Thanks, Felicia.”
On her way home, the tears freed themselves like water sluicing through a flood gate. She cried at stop signs and as the red of the stoplight shone on the hood of her car.
How had Tammy taken the abuse for all those years without saying anything? Especially with Rory and Annabelle in the same home? Every time she asked that question, the answer eluded her. Maybe someday she would have to simply ask her sister.
But was she brave enough to hear her response?
When she turned onto her street, she saw a familiar black pickup truck parked in front of her townhouse.
Clayton. What in the world could he want?
She parked her car and switched off the engine. Clayton was already cutting across the small lawn to reach her. The rearview mirror confirmed she was a fright. Scrubbing at her raccoon eyes, she pinched her cheeks for color and got out. And immediately remembered her work outfit. It wasn’t like anything she’d normally wear. Please don’t let him notice. Then she realized he’d seen her in this junker.
He would have questions all right.
“What are you doing here, Clayton?” she asked as he came nearer, determined to take the offensive.
“I talked to your old boss today,” he began with an exaggerated drawl.
Her brain was already fuzzy from the cry, but hearing that shot a bolt of pure fear through her. “Jared?” she scoffed, hoping she was wrong. “That’s no surprise. He’s your lawyer.”
He tugged his black cowboy hat lower. “He is at that, but it was a surprise to hear he’d recently given you a reference.”
The tingling in her face spread throughout her whole body. Oh, no. He’d given her his word, but he’d gone and ratted her out anyway.
“Jared’s concerned you’re wasting your talents at…what is the name? The Community Legal Clinic? In East Nashville.”
God, she was too tired to handle this, but she had to. If he told her brother what she was doing, all hell would break loose.
“I just got home from a tough day. Can we go inside and talk? I need to freshen up.”
“What you need to do is tell me what the hell is going on, Amelia Ann, because I’m almost certain Rye doesn’t know about this.”
She headed to the door. “Come on. I’ll tell you what you want to know when we’re inside.”
He stomped after her down the sidewalk with an unmistakable mutter. “You’d better.”
It seemed like she’d been finally caught.
Chapter 9
Amelia Ann did look plum tuckered out when she flicked on the lights inside her place. As he ran his gaze over her always delectable figure, he noticed her brown pants suit was far more basic than anything he’d ever seen her wear.
“You were working there today, weren’t you?” he asked.
She shot him a defiant glance, but didn’t respond. The urge to hit something rose up in him. Christ, could this day get any worse? Just this morning he was at his daddy’s gravesite fighting tears. Then Jared had called him about some of the business holdings he and his mama jointly held and reluctantly let spill the upsetting news about Amelia Ann.
After hanging up, he’d been fit to be tied, thinking about her working in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. And his blood had darn near left his body after he looked the place up on the Internet. His own imagination couldn’t compete with the stark reality of the place.
He’d worked late, trying to ignore the urge to butt into her business. After all, as she’d no doubt point out, she was a grown woman. But he’d thrown in the towel and headed to her place to wait her out.
Someone had to make her see reason.
He didn’t feel good about going to Rye like a tattletale. They were all way too old for that. But he wasn’t above giving Amelia Ann some strongly worded advice.
“You need to quit working there,” he said without any hesitation as soon as her door had closed behind them. “It’s way too dangerous.”
She tossed her purse down on the couch, and he had his first peek at Amelia Ann’s temper.
“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” she said, that fire of hers showing through. “I’m going to change. While I’m gone, I suggest you make yourself a drink and think about choosing your words more carefully.”
In a huff—yeah that’s what he’d call it—she sailed out of the room.
He inhaled her fragrance, a sultry mix of magnolias and temper. A drink sounded pretty damn good, but he didn’t know where she kept her liquor. He’d never been inside her home before. As he scanned her place, he told himself he was only looking for her bar—if she had one.
But it was a lie. This bird’s eye view into the woman who both fascinated and challenged him was too good to pass up.
She liked color. That was for sure. The family room was painted a fire engine red and filled with modern art in primary colors. The furnishings were comfortable, chick-like. A pattered paisley afghan hung on the white sofa, and fluffy pillows in a soft yello
w made the nearby matching ottoman look more inviting.
Seeing no bar, he detoured to the kitchen. It was littered with dishes, so he suspected she didn’t like to clean up after herself. Neither did Rye. The cabinets were caramel-colored, the appliances stainless steel. Hand-drawn and painted pictures by Rory and Annabelle were secured to the fridge with magnets, along with photos of her and her family.
As he wandered through the first floor, he spotted a silver tray topped with a bottle of Rye’s favorite bourbon on an antique sideboard in the dining room. A pewter candelabra fitted with long white candles graced the middle of the formal dining room table.
At Rye’s request, Clayton had procured graduate housing for Amelia Ann when she first moved to Nashville, but within six months, she’d found this townhouse to rent and moved. He could see why. It had more flair and was closer to Hillsboro Village’s main strip, one of the trendiest parts of town.
After pouring himself a tumbler of bourbon, he returned to the family room to wait for her. He made himself sip his drink instead of downing it, all the while massaging the back of his neck. Every muscle was rigid with tension.
A floorboard above him moaned, and he couldn’t help but think about Amelia Ann changing her clothes up there. As usual with her, his iron-clad self-control crumbled to dust. Amelia Ann invaded the quiet place he inhabited, from which he usually observed the world at a cynical distance.
When she emerged, she was dressed in one of those long, form-fitting tunics women wore that fell to mid-thigh. The outfit did little to quell his passionate thoughts. The bold red top was a downright contrast to the boring brown pants suit she’d been wearing. Not to mention her bright blue tights. Dear God, who would have thought a woman could look so good in such a strange combination of colors?
“I’m starving, so I ordered a pizza while I was upstairs. I’m glad you found a drink.”
She headed to the kitchen, so he followed. If she thought she was going to distract him from his purpose, she was crazy. Then he almost laughed. To work in East Nashville, she must be.
