Jayce took a swig of cola. “So, Kosh. What happened this AM?”
“The hearing is scheduled for Tuesday.”
“Want us to come?” A.J. asked.
“Yeah, I think I’ll need it. Blake’ll probably have a lawyer.”
Zan almost choked on his cheese. “You don’t have an attorney?”
“No.” She swallowed, alarmed by his reaction. “Is that a big deal?”
“Sorry if I scared you. I don’t know. Bailey had one though.”
“We don’t really have the money.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Jayce said. “We’ll all back ya up and whatnot. It’s not like this was a one-time deal with no witnesses.”
“That’s true,” Zan said. “But I’ll call Bailey. She can at least let you know what you’re in for.”
Kasia nodded. “That’d be great. I’d like to talk to her anyway.”
The grin that spread across his face warmed her. “She’d love that.”
“So,” Jayce said. “Other than plotting Blake’s legal demise, what are the plans this weekend?”
37
Saturday afternoon, everybody gathered around the Bernolaks’ kitchen table, and Zan watched their crazily intense game of Spoons. The only game his family had ever enjoyed together was baseball.
Kasia had a great laugh. His favorite part was her high-pitched squeal when someone grabbed a spoon. Then everybody clued in and chaos broke loose.
Jayce got the credit for taking her up to her parents’ for the night. Anyone could see Kasia would go stir-crazy trapped inside. She wasn’t the veg-in-front-of-the-television type, and with no classes or club for the next two days, her options were few.
Zan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Bailey. He stepped outside. “Thanks for calling back.”
“Absolutely. Mind if I actually talk to Kasia?”
“Uh, no. That’s cool. Let me get her.” He hated to interrupt her when her smile was on a roll. “Kasia, it’s Bailey. About the hearing. Do you want me to—”
All seriousness, Kasia stood up, took his phone, and walked down the hall with it.
~*~
Kasia shut her bedroom door behind her. “Hello?”
“Hi, Kasia. I hope you don’t feel weird about my call, but Zan said you could use a heads-up about Tuesday.”
“Oh, I appreciate it. More than you know.”
“How about I tell you how it went for me, and you can ask questions. Sound good?”
“Sure.” Kasia pulled a pen and notepad out of her nightstand and sat on her bed.
“First off, you need to know that a hearing isn’t like a trial. There’s no jury. You’ll present your side, and the guy…”
“Blake.” Kasia hated saying his name.
“Blake—or his attorney—will get a chance to cross-examine you. Ask questions. And then Blake will get to tell his side. The judge decides.”
Blake could be the one to ask questions? “Can Zan and everybody help?”
“Yep. That’s part of your side of the story. But you’ll go first.”
“How was it for you?”
“Easy enough to talk about. By the time of my hearing, I wasn’t numb anymore—I had a lot to say. The biggest challenge was laying blame squarely on Michael while he glared at me the whole time.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Um…intimidated. But not afraid. I was angry—I liked angry better than numb. And I needed to do it. Speaking up—saying out loud that you were abused—is a terrifying thing by itself, but silence doesn’t help anybody. Michael was wrong, and it was time to fight back…but I did it in a way that I felt honored God. I probably could’ve killed him in his sleep or something, but that—”
“Would’ve been frowned upon,” Kasia said. It felt good to joke. The gravity of it all overpowered her most of the time.
“So what questions do you have?”
“What’s most important for me to say? Just tell the story from beginning to end?”
“Start at the breakup—unless he was abusive while you were together. Was he?”
He was jealous and pushy. Overly sensitive. And he’d raped her that weekend, but after that…their relationship was almost all about sex. It was safer to keep him happy, so she did. He’d always anticipate and tease her about the next time; she’d constantly dread it.
But several times, she had initiated it. Blake could be gentle when he was satisfied. He’d laugh, treat her well. Make her feel like a treasure. Whenever she resisted, he’d scared her.
She had to take responsibility for her part.
Didn’t she?
“Kasia? Are you there?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, it’s probably just better to start with the breakup.” She didn’t want Tatuś to know all that. Or for the church rumor mill to have any details.
“Mention any threats or acts of violence. Emphasize the fact that you feel afraid for your safety. And it would be good to have witnesses mention those too.”
“Um, what kind of questions did Michael and his attorney ask you? For the cross-examination.”
Bailey blew out a breath. “It was awful. They belittled me, tried to make me look completely incompetent. But, Kasia, listen. You can do it. You’ve got to. Look ’em dead in the eye and tell the truth. Blake is the one who is wrong.”
“I guess,” she said. Conviction settled in her gut. “No, you’re right. I’m done making excuses for him. This has to stop.”
“Exactly. Stand up to him. Zan and I have been praying for you.”
“Really?” She’d been covered in prayer this whole time? By someone she didn’t know?
“Yeah. He’s really impressed with your love for others—the people of Peru, he’s mentioned a few times.”
Kasia pictured little Tomás reaching out to touch her hair. “I’d love to go back. I learned so much.”
“Sometimes God pulls us away from normal just long enough to begin something great in us. So, how can I pray for you? To you, what’s the biggest thing?”
“The not-having-an-attorney makes me nervous. And that I’d…deal with what’s happened. Get back to normal.”
“Better than normal. Stronger.”
“Right.” Stronger. Yes.
~*~
A few hours later, Zan sat beside Kasia on the sofa in her parents’ house, with a giant mug of coffee and rubbing Samson behind the ears. She liked Zan there. On her couch. With her dog.
With her.
Samson always sandwiched himself between her and Kyle.
But he rested his scruffy head on Zan’s knee—on the far side.
Zan pulled out his phone and bumped her arm, passed her a text. His fingers brushed hers as he let go.
Kasia read the text from Bailey. Thought my attorney could be helpful. She’ll call tonite @ six for a consult. Let me know if time’s not OK. My gift 2 U.
Whoa. “Did you know about this?”
“Not until now, but it doesn’t surprise me. Bailey deals with the real possibility of never walking again, and she’s thinking about others.” He stared at the floor.
She reached for his hand, squeezed.
He squeezed back.
Silence reigned for a measure or two.
“So,” he said, “do you have someone to act as your advocate at the plaintiff’s table?”
She blinked. “Hadn’t thought about it.”
“You should ask your dad. That’d seem right to me—the way he protects you. Maybe her lawyer can talk to him too.”
“Good idea.” She’d better do it right then.
She left Zan with Samson and found Tatuś sanding planks in his shop. The air smelled of sawdust and pine.
“Kasiu?” He wiped his hands on a rag and had some coffee, waited for her to speak.
Her palms felt clammy. “I know you come out here when things weigh on you. Is this a good time?”
He nodded, silent.
“Um, thank you for helping with all this. For wanting to
protect me.”
“Of course.”
“During the hearing, would you…will you sit at the table with me, do the question-asking?”
His eyes crinkled, softened. “I planned to. Jim gave me a list of questions. It might be hard not to just give the boy an earful, but I’m already praying about it. Several people from church are praying with us.”
Again, so many people knew. She hoped no one would show up on Tuesday. If they would just pray from home, she could be more upfront about everything. “Zan’s sister’s attorney is going to call at six, to go over things with me. You can talk to her.”
An eyebrow lifted.
“She was in an abusive marriage—did this whole hearing thing last spring.”
“Hm. I’ll talk with the attorney at six, then.” His brow furrowed slightly. “I didn’t expect to pay for an attorney.”
“It’s on the house.” She showed him the text.
Both eyebrows this time. “That’s quite a gift from someone you’ve never met.”
“She’s been praying for me for a month. That’s an even better one, I think.”
Tatuś nodded. “It is. Na pewno.”
For sure.
~*~
Zan and Jayce cleared the table, kept an ear out while Pastor Bernolak consulted with Bailey’s attorney.
Mrs. Bernolak rolled up her sleeves. “If you boys’ll put all the leftovers in the fridge, I’ll wash the dishes. Aryk will be done soon, and he’ll want to sit with all of you. Here, Jayce.” She tossed him a wet rag. “Dziękuję.”
She ran hot water in the sink. “Zan, call the girls inside for me, please.”
Zan opened the side door, spotted them in the driveway with Kyle, who’d apparently just arrived. And today had been going so well.
“Kasia, Lena, I think your dad’s ready for everybody.”
He waited until they started toward him and headed in.
Pastor Bernolak sat at the table with a legal pad full of notes, still on the call. “No, no, I’m not sure who his attorney is. Kasiu? Do you know?”
She shook her head and closed the door behind her. “His father is the CEO of some big marketing firm, so they have a whole team to choose from.”
Kyle touched her arm before he sat next to Lena. Kasia smiled at him.
Zan rolled his neck.
Mr. B. set down the phone. “All right. Let’s get started.”
He welcomed everyone and had Kasia go through her story. While she talked, she made eye contact with everybody but her dad. Over and over, she traced the design on their tablecloth. It must kill her to talk about all this stuff in front of an audience. Better to get used to it now though. Bailey’d been uneasy before her hearing too.
Blake had pulled a lot of junk before Zan had come around. It was good she’d had everyone else. Even Kyle.
“The letter under your door too,” Lena added. She whispered something to Kyle and eyed Zan thoughtfully.
Kasia told her dad about Blake’s letter.
“And that’s all?” he asked.
Kasia shrugged. “I think so.”
Nope. “Don’t forget the nail,” Zan said.
Kasia turned his way, genuinely perplexed. “I haven’t thought of that since it happened, but you’re right.”
“What nail?” Her dad leaned in, arms on the table.
“The first time Kasia and I met, I helped her change her tire on the side of the road. There was a nail in the sidewall.”
He narrowed his eyes, studied Zan. “I owe you my gratitude again.”
This time, Zan bore up under his measuring eyes. “My pleasure.”
“Tatusiu?”
Her dad swung his head in Kasia’s direction.
“That was before we broke up. Is it relevant?”
He jerked back in disbelief. “Relevant? It could’ve caused a lot more than a flat, Kasiu.” He fisted his hand. “You don’t see Blake clearly.”
Right. And a lot she still wasn’t telling. But this wasn’t Zan’s show.
“Did he contact you in Peru?” her father asked.
Kasia shook her head. “He’d already done enough damage here, I guess. I had nightmares most of the time—haven’t slept well in a year. But he definitely wants to make up for lost time.”
The fight was on its way back. More evidence of the thaw.
“And when you got back? He waited for you in the parking lot—that was the first thing?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “No, sir.”
Zan chewed the inside of his cheek. She recounted the day she’d called out to him for help. The day she’d clung to him like a lifeline. She didn’t mention what Blake had said into her ear that hurt her so deeply.
Pastor B.’s jaw pulsed. “There’s a good bit you kept quiet.”
“I know. I’m sorry. As much as I wanted it to, pretending didn’t make it go away.”
Her dad reached for her hand. “No more secrets, dobrze?”
She nodded.
So would she tell him about the rape? With everyone here?
No. She was done.
Pastor B. asked all of them what they’d seen. Kasia sat, listened, fingered the bruise on her neck, lost color by the minute.
As soon as they were done, she took off like Shoeless after a ball.
~*~
Kasia ran to her room, pulled on her coat, and strode through the house. Her palm hit the glass and shoved the door open. Outside, she sucked in the cold, cleansing air. All that mattered was escape.
At the edge of the woods, though, fear hit. The taste of adrenaline soured her mouth. Anybody could be in the woods.
She shuddered and turned around, headed for her dad’s wood shop.
The door creaked as she opened it, and the scent of sawdust and turpentine hit her. She flicked on the light and wandered through the room, paused to inspect each of Tatuś’s creations. The smooth edges of another bookshelf, the curved back of a bentwood rocker, the skeleton of a small boat. A roughhewn cross stood in the shadows at the back of the shop.
She stepped toward it, mesmerized by the jagged, unfinished wood. And she prayed.
You went through so much worse.
She spoke aloud. “They’re all inside, rehashing the garbage, but they don’t know half of it. I probably don’t know half of it. The one thing I know—the worst of them all—I can’t say.”
“Why can’t you say?”
Lenka. Superstealth. She turned and faced her little sister. “I don’t want to.”
“Not even to me?” Point-blank as usual.
She tried point-blank back. “Blake raped me.”
Lenka ran to her. “Kasia! When? Where did it—”
“Two years ago. While we were dating—our first time.”
“I hate him.”
Kasia didn’t have anything to say to that.
“But then you weren’t just sleeping with him.” Lenka’s eyes were full of hope. As if this one tragic fact magically made the hundred other times okay.
“He only held me down the first time.”
“I’m sorry.” Lenka wiped her hands on her pants. “So, will you…tell Mom?”
“I don’t want to talk about it at all. Honestly, I just want to think of it as the thing that made me realize I needed to stand up to him. Maybe, maybe I’ll tell her after all this is over. Besides, after Blake broke the window, Tatuś admitted he wanted to hurt Blake. This would—I’ve got to protect his ministry. Do you mind if I just pray right now?”
“I’ll get out of your way.” Lenka almost turned to go but spun back and hugged Kasia with some fierce love. “I love you, Kasiu.”
Kasia managed a small smile. “I love you too.” She listened as Lenka’s boots clunked across the cement floor and the door creaked shut.
Then she knelt at the foot of the cross. She should’ve left Blake immediately after the rape. Called the police. But she’d stayed with him and mired herself down even further. Whatever part—if any—was her responsibility,
she wanted to make right.
Dear One, you do not need forgiveness for things done to you.
“But God, I’m sorry I kept offering myself to him—not to You.”
It is finished. Your choices from here on are your own. Will you follow Me?
“I will. I don’t want to live like a victim anymore. Help me keep my eyes locked on You.”
38
Late that night, after everyone had gone to their rooms, Zan and Jayce stepped out onto the back porch. They were still in the mood to cut up, and the house was quiet.
“That dog sure loves you,” Jayce said.
“What, he doesn’t like you?”
“Stares at me. Sits, cocks his little dog head, and glazes over. Like I’m an alien or whatnot.”
“Maybe he thinks you’re ugly.” Zan chuckled and propped his elbows on the rail, watched the gray cloud slide in front of the moon. “I’ll tell you what—I’m not Lena’s hero.”
“No? Things seem good now.”
“She’s in Kyle’s corner all the way.”
“Yeah, she’s a big fan. The way ya said that intrigues me though.”
Zan raised his eyebrows in question.
“You said, ‘Kyle’s corner.’ Like, ah, like you decided to get in the ring.”
Zan smiled. Caught red-handed. “I didn’t decide anything. But I couldn’t quit thinking of Kasia the whole time I was in Charleston. And the not-following-God rule is off the table.”
Jayce studied him, and Zan held his gaze.
“Look, no matter what I want—I know all she needs from me right now is friendship. I can’t turn off what I feel, but I won’t hurt her.”
“Your call, man. But I’m tellin’ you the same thing I said to Kyle. She needs guys to look out for her—not hit on her.”
The door slid open behind them. “Gentlemen?”
They both straightened up as if their drill sergeant had shown up. “Yes, sir?” Zan asked.
“I’m going to bed, and I’d suggest you two come in as well. Your voices carry farther than you think.” He cocked an eyebrow at Zan.
~*~
Kasia and Zan ate gołąbki and potatoes with her family before they left.
As they said goodbye, Lenka’s eyes were full of strength. “I’m praying hard. You don’t want me to give Mom even a heads-up?”
Kasia shook her head. “No, please let me decide how to do this.” As if it were possible to give a “heads-up” that someone raped her daughter.
Strains of Silence Page 27
