Right All Along

by Heather Heyford

“How are you going to get home?”

  “It’s not far. I’ll find a way.” She waved her sign high at passing cars. “Save the park!” she called, while the girls watched, growing more wild-eyed by the minute.

  “Don’t let go of my hand, no matter what,” yelled Jack to them, searching frantically for an opening between cars to get them back to the other side of the street and safety.

  But before he found one, two police officers appeared from out of nowhere, waving their arms at the crowd. “Get off the street,” they cried to the crowd. “You don’t have the right to block traffic.”

  Harley tried to comply, but she was bumped and jostled by the crowd.

  From the distance came the sound of sirens.

  “Get off the street!” yelled the cops.

  Where had all these people come from?

  Cruisers pulled up, lights flashing, bringing more cops with bullhorns.

  “Get off the street! This is the last time we’re going to tell you before we start removing you by force.”

  Harley tried repeatedly to comply, but emotions had caught fire. Each time she made it back onto the green, she was shoved off the curb again. The next thing she knew her hands were behind her back and she heard a ratcheting sound. “You’re under arrest for disorderly conduct for blocking a roadway and sidewalk,” said a voice.

  “She’s with me,” said Jack frantically. “I’ll get her out of here.”

  “Too late. I told her three times to move and she didn’t comply.”

  Now she was being herded toward a police van.

  She caught a glimpse of the twins’ eyes, wide as saucers.

  “Don’t say anything without a lawyer,” Jack called to Harley. Over the melee, he yelled to the policeman. “What’s going to happen to her?”

  “She’ll be taken to the station and processed on a second-degree misdemeanor. Then she’ll be free to go until her court date.”

  * * *

  Jack took his kids back to the estate, where they immediately began chattering to Mother about Harley’s arrest.

  “What is going on?” asked Mother.

  “I have to go,” said Jack. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Then he turned around and drove to the crowded police station. Harley wasn’t the only one in trouble. A half-dozen others were there, waiting to be processed.

  Four hours later, Jack finally drove her home, his mouth fixed in a grim line.

  “I could have gotten one of my parents to come get me,” said Harley.

  “If I didn’t want to get you, I wouldn’t have.”

  She gazed out her window without speaking, watching the scenery slide by. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “What? That maybe you should look before you leap?”

  Harley made a face.

  “It would be for your own good, you know. When’s your hearing date?”

  Harley read from the official papers on her lap. “Next Thursday at nine a.m.”

  “You’re going to need a lawyer. My cousin Kerry’s one of the best defense attorneys in the state. If you want, I’ll give her a call.”

  “Why? I did what they said I did. I’m guilty. I already told them that.”

  “I told you not to say anything!” Jack scolded. “Disorderly conduct is a serious charge. You could go to jail. You messed up. But a savvy lawyer might still be able to help you.”

  “I can represent myself.”

  “No, you can’t! You know what they say. ‘Only a fool represents himself, and he who represents himself has a fool for an attorney.’ ”

  “I like to do things my own way.”

  Jack ran a hand through his hair while he still had some. If he kept hanging around Harley, it was bound to start falling out.

  * * *

  The next evening, the girls were supposed to be doing their homework when they ran downstairs, their arms full. Frankie put her electronic device under Jack’s nose. “Dad, look who it is.”

  Mother peered over Jack’s shoulder at the cover of Newberry Live showing a close-up of Harley waving her sign.

  “Is Harley famous?” asked Freddie, looking up at Jack, her face the picture of innocence.

  “More like infamous,” Mother drawled, giving Jack an accusing look.

  “Look at the signs we made,” said Frankie, holding Popsicle sticks glued onto sheets of hand-lettered construction paper.

  “We wrote letters, too,” said Freddie, holding up envelopes.

  “And a petition,” said Frankie.

  “Have you girls considered that there might be very good reason for eliminating the park?” asked Mother.

  “What reason?” asked Freddie.

  “Something that would provide a real service, measurable in dollars, not merely aesthetics.”

  “What’s aesthetics?” asked Frankie.

  “You’ve seen all the cars in the parking lot of the tasting room . . . the people inside who come from all over the country, even the world, to try our wines. We need to spread the word to as many people as possible so we can continue to grow. That’s what a tourism office does—helps travelers find what they’re looking for. The current office is outdated. It’s small and hard to get to because it’s on a one-way street, and it doesn’t have its own parking lot. The purpose for tearing down the park is to build a much-needed new tourist center.”

  But the twins’ eyes had glazed over. They were too young to make the connection between how more tourists contributed to their livelihood.

  “Are your backpacks all ready for school tomorrow?” asked Jack.

  They shook their heads.

  “How about you go back to your desks and get ready for the new school week?”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Mother said.

  Reluctantly, the girls turned to go.

  “Hold it. I’ll take that,” said Mother, holding out her hand for the device.

  Reluctantly, Frankie relinquished it, and they disappeared up the stairs.

  * * *

  Mother studied the news story on the screen. “My committee has spent hundreds of hours on this project,” she said tightly in a voice that could barely contain its anger.

  “Your committee?”

  “The Downtown Beautification Committee. I happen to be the chair.”

  So, that was what all Mother’s meetings were about.

  “What were you thinking today? You put the twins’ lives in jeopardy. Emily has got to be turning over in her grave. What if one of them had been trampled by the crowd or run over by a car?”

  “I had control of them at all times,” said Jack.

  “Look at these pictures! Police cars everywhere. It’s bedlam.”

  “Of course the reporters made it look as bad as possible. Don’t read more into it than it is. It was a small-town protest that got a little out of hand,” said Jack mildly. “If this were Portland, no one would have batted an eye.”

  “This isn’t Portland. It’s Newberry, and you’re a Friestatt. Harley was always trouble, and it’s clear she hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “Harley merely sparked the girls’ interest. I explained to them the importance of developing a plan,” replied Jack. “Regardless of how it turns out, it’ll be a real-life civics lesson.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Harley hung up her phone after talking to her baby’s birth mother. Kelly said the baby was about the size of a head of lettuce. He had had hiccups, which felt like a little flutter. Harley spread her hands on her flat stomach. If only she could feel that.

  She pulled up the picture of the baby’s second sonogram, which Kelly had sent her. After she’d decided to adopt, she had spent uncounted hours scrolling pictures of anonymous babies on the internet, wondering what hers would look like. But this was him. That was her baby. She traced over his little fingers and toes again and again, her heart throbbing with love. He was a miracle in the making. Every day that passed was a day closer to finally bringing him home.

&n
bsp; * * *

  When the day of her hearing came, Harley’s parents offered to accompany her to her court date, but their jobs paid them by the hour. She insisted they not take off work.

  She rushed around feeding her goats and getting herself ready. By the time she skipped down her porch steps—running late, as usual, she paused when she saw Jack’s truck idling in the drive.

  His window slid down.

  “What are you—”

  “Hop in,” he said with a jerk of his head.

  “I don’t need—”

  Jack looked at his watch. “It’s already eight forty-five. If it were me getting sentenced, I’d have been there a half hour ago.”

  She hated being told what to do. But she knew he was right.

  Neither spoke until they were off the back roads and onto the main two-lane leading to town.

  “Have you had a chance to read up on the park situation?”

  She nodded. “I still don’t see how razing it is a good idea.”

  “Newberry’s the gateway to wine country. That tourist center is long overdue. It will benefit the wine community, which in turn benefits the whole town. Including your bed-and-breakfast.”

  “It just seems like there has to be a better way.”

  * * *

  The courtroom was far from empty. All the protestors had apparently been scheduled for the same day.

  Harley sat next to Jack, fidgeting with the fringe on her bag, waiting for her name to be called.

  The stern-faced judge didn’t smile or look up from the papers he sorted at his raised desk.

  Harley wished she had taken Jack’s advice and gotten an attorney, but it was too late now.

  When the bailiff called out her name, she rose, both relieved and frightened to be the first one.

  The judge finally looked up to see Harley standing alone. “Who’s representing Miss Miller-Jones?”

  Harley cleared her throat. “I’m representing myself, Your Honor.”

  The judge lowered his reading glasses and sized her up. “Very well.”

  He asked the bailiff, “What are the charges?”

  “Disorderly Conduct in the Second Degree: causing a public inconvenience by blocking a roadway or sidewalk, Your Honor.”

  “How do you plead?” the judge asked her.

  “Well, first of all—”

  “Guilty or not guilty, Miss Miller-Jones?”

  She gulped. “Guilty.”

  He took his glasses off and gravely folded his hands atop his desk. “If there is something you would like to say before I pass judgment, now is the appropriate time.”

  “Yes, there is. I grew up just outside of town. Back then, there were always people walking and talking and playing in the park. Sometimes there would even be musicians and street performers. Later, when I moved away, when I thought about my hometown, it wasn’t the businesses or the stores or the restaurants that came to my mind. It was the park, a green, living space in Newberry’s heart.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  Beside her, Jack was very still.

  “Disorderly Conduct in the Second Degree is a Class B misdemeanor, the maximum penalty for which is six months in jail and/or a fine of up to twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  Panic threatened to overwhelm her. “You can’t put me in jail, Your Honor.”

  “Defendant will remain silent while judgment is being passed.”

  Harley clutched the back of the pew in front of her. “You can’t send me to jail. I just bought a house—the Victorian, the old Grimsky place on Ribbon Ridge?—everybody knows it—and I’ve turned it into a bed-and-breakfast. But the real reason I came back home to Newberry is because I’m adopting a baby boy, and I promised his birth parents I would raise him in a house in the country, and the baby’s going to be here around Christmas. If I’m in jail, how am I going to finish my designs so I can pay my mortgage?”

  “What designs are those?”

  She faltered. How could she put pictures into words? “Here,” she said frantically, pulling out her phone.

  “I’ll show you.” Scrolling to some of her older work, she started toward the bench, only to be blocked by the bailiff’s arm.

  Jack half rose, then remembered himself.

  To Harley’s surprised relief, the judge reached out his hand. “Bailiff ? Bring me her phone.”

  She waited with bated breath while the judge thumbed through picture after picture.

  He frowned, enlarging the screen, turning the phone sideways and then upright again. “I’ve seen these images somewhere before.” Then it came to him. “My wife bought a set of these plates. She has them facing out in her china cupboard. Walk past them every day.”

  He handed her phone back to the bailiff, who walked it back to her.

  The judge looked down at his paperwork. “I see by your record that you haven’t been in trouble in the past. Given that you’re a first-time offender and a productive member of the community, I hereby sentence you to a term of probation of six months. You will report immediately to the Yamhill County Department of Community Justice.”

  He brought down his gavel and she jumped.

  Jack was on his feet, his hand on her elbow.

  Harley’s breath rushed out as she turned to him, all smiles.

  But Jack wasn’t smiling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She was so relieved not to be locked up that she almost forgot about having kept the baby a secret. “You never know what can happen when you decide to adopt. There are risks all along the way. I’ve been holding my cards close to the vest.”

  His eyes were full of questions and concern. “A baby is a big deal. It doesn’t get much bigger.”

  But there was no time to talk about it just then. The Department of Justice was only a couple of blocks away.

  “Thanks for all your help,” said Harley another hour later, when they were finally on their way back home. “Sorry it took so long. You went above and beyond today.”

  “I want to know everything,” said Jack, and she knew he wasn’t talking about being drug tested and assigned her probation officer.

  She was relieved that her secret was finally out in the open. But she still couldn’t tell Jack that her reason for adopting was because she couldn’t conceive a baby of her own. So she told him as much as she wanted him to know.

  “Thank God the judge was lenient,” he said when she was finished.

  He was thoughtful the rest of the drive home, making her wonder if she was being judged yet again.

  “Thanks again,” said Harley, when they reached her house, unfastening her seat belt. She had one leg out the door when he said, “Wait. There’s something I want to say.”

  She braced herself for a lecture on how crazy she was.

  “We used to be close friends. We could be friends again. Would you like to go out some time? Not like a date,” he added quickly. “Spend some time together, get reacquainted.”

  Harley looked at him, sitting there in the driver’s seat, as handsome as ever. She’d been afraid that he was judging her again. But she should have known better. His silence was his logical mind assessing and reflecting on her news. She had to admit, it was a lot to take in.

  There was a side of her that desperately wanted their old relationship back. Because despite all that had happened, she had never stopped caring for him. But she had lived for years with the hurt and bewilderment of his betrayal. Her pain had built a wall around her heart.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” There was still so much she didn’t understand. How long had he been seeing Emily behind her back? After all this time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to reopen that can of worms.

  “Seeing you again at Ryan’s office in September, the past came rushing back to me like it was yesterday. I’ve tried to hold it in. But I have to talk about it or I’m going to spin out. It might sound weird, but what I felt that day was an overwhelming sensation of relief. Because e
ven though we were just kids, what we had back then—I don’t know what it was. I don’t have a name for it. But it was real, Harley. The realest thing I’ve ever known.” He paused, his face full of hope. “You feel it, too. I can see it in your eyes. Sense it, every minute we’re together.”

  She knew better than to trust him. But hadn’t he practically handed her the Victorian on a silver platter?

  Harley stood very still, wanting to respond but afraid that renewing their friendship could only dredge all that pain up all over again.

  “Come on, Harley. You’re supposed to be the impulsive one. With a baby on the way and Leslie and Sarah gone, don’t tell me you couldn’t use a friend.”

  He was right. All her closest friends had moved away and she hadn’t made any new ones yet. Except for her parents, she was going to be on her own.

  “I guess that would be all right. Just as friends, though.”

  A grin split his face as he shifted into reverse. “Great. I’ll call you.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  In the following days as Jack went about his work, he could think of nothing but Harley’s pending adoption. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. She’d been a lonely child. She had talked wistfully about someday having a houseful of children. But what had prompted her to take such a drastic step on her own? He could only come up with two reasons. Either she underestimated the importance of a father in raising a child, or she had given up on finding a man. Either way, he had misgivings.

  No one knew better than he how hard it was to raise children alone. He should know—he’d been doing it for the past five years.

  As for Harley giving up on love, that brought up a confusing mix of feelings. Because while he wasn’t accepting of her, he couldn’t bear the thought of her with someone else.

  All that aside, how could she have kept such an important decision from him, when they had once been so close? Then again, he’d been the one who threw that away. What right did he have to be part of her world? Still, he couldn’t keep from doing a little research of his own, in the evenings. He discovered that what she’d said was true—a lot could go wrong. Aside from the challenge of finding a baby, there could be medical problems. Or the birth parents could renege. Some of his hurt at being left out of Harley’s life was replaced with respect for her courage.