Lydia stood and called Kasia to the stand. The bailiff swore her in.
She sat in the hard chair and stared out at the faces in the room. Every one of them incited a different emotion. Confidence. Love. Anger. Shame. Worthlessness. Nope. She’d look at the faces on the left side, thank you.
Sheriff Schilling, Tatuś’s friend, was in the back. No one else from church. She breathed easier. Just a touch easier.
Lydia offered Kasia a slight smile. “Miss Bernolak, what has caused you to feel as if a protective order is necessary?”
She started with the breakup in the spring and listed every detail she’d told Tatuś, hoping it would be enough. Things had changed between them, but there was no doubt of his love. “No matter what,” he’d said. And he’d proven it.
“And then,” she said, “Blake pretended to be someone else—after he’d been informed of the protective order—so he could come to the after-school club I run. That’s where he chased me out into the parking lot, grabbed me by the hair, and shoved me onto the ground. I don’t know what he’d have done if Officer Osbourne hadn’t arrived and helped.”
“Objection!” Blake’s lawyer shouted. “That’s speculation.”
“Sustained. Miss Bernolak, stick to what did happen,” the judge advised.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Since I came back from Peru, your honor, Blake’s shown up everywhere. It’s gotten to the point that I never feel safe. Anywhere.”
“Have you asked him to stop following you? Told him to leave you alone?” Lydia asked.
She nodded. “Yes. He gets really angry when I do that. Demands that I listen to him. Tells me he won’t just walk away. I don’t think he’s ever heard me, really. He’s too busy telling me what to do. Even his sister called and threatened me.”
“Oh?”
Blake’s attorney and his father exchanged confused glances.
“Tell us about his sister’s call,” the judge said.
Kasia explained the details.
“I know that some of these have been reported to the campus security and municipal police. Do you have any further documentation?” Judge Wilson asked.
She handed him an envelope with a dated description of every confrontation, the notarized transcription of Amber Hamilton’s voicemail message, photos of the vandalism, and everything else she, her friends, and her family had gathered.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Lydia asked.
“I…I guess not.” Nothing she could ever prove.
“Does the defense have any questions for the plaintiff?”
Blake started to speak, but his attorney shushed him and whispered something.
“Isn’t it true, Miss Bernolak,” the man began, “that Blake has also made several kind appeals to you? Told you he missed you, wished you would let him apologize. Brought you flowers.”
Kasia looked into the attorney’s eyes. “If he starts that way, the kindness never lasts long. By the end of the conversation, he yells, threatens me.” Blake’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you ever let him finish? Or do your friends interrupt his apologies and conversation?” the attorney asked.
“They step in to protect me and get me out of there.”
“The night of the bonfire, did any of these friends see you get hurt?”
Kasia hesitated, and Lydia spoke up. “Objection. My client doesn’t know what others may or may not have seen that night. She only knows what she’s been told, and that’s hearsay.”
“Sustained,” replied Judge Wilson.
“I’ll rephrase the question. Miss Bernolak, did any of your other friends tell you that they had seen Mr. Hamilton at the bonfire?”
“No.”
“Do you mean no one saw him throw the rock at you or no one saw him at all?” he pressed.
“I saw him!”
Lydia shouted in frustration. “Objection! He’s badgering Miss Bernolak regarding hearsay again.”
Kasia balled her hands into fists.
“Sustained.”
She met Lydia’s eyes. Thank you.
Blake’s lawyer went on. “I’m sorry. Miss Bernolak, can you tell the court which of your friends were with you the night of the bonfire?”
“Alexander Maddox, Jayson McEwan, A.J. Montreuil, and Kyle Compton.”
Blake tapped his attorney’s arm, and they had a brief exchange. The attorney stood up straight. “Miss Bernolak, you were engaged to marry Mr. Hamilton, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“And you broke it off without warning. You didn’t give Blake a chance to ask questions. You didn’t even have a reason for breaking off the engagement. Is that correct?”
All that was true, but…
“Is that correct, Miss Bernolak?” His tone was patronizing. Frustrating.
“I didn’t have a reason that satisfied Blake.”
“And the two of you were sexually intimate. Correct?”
Kasia’s eyes flew to her father’s. No! Don’t do this! I—
“Objection, your honor,” Lydia said. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Sustained.”
Someone else may have spoken, but Kasia only saw Tatuś’s pained expression. His blue eyes cried, Tell me no. Tell me that’s not right, Curly-Q.
She wanted Tatusiu’s eyes to whisper love again. Don’t be so disappointed that you can’t love me anymore.
Blake’s lawyer said something, but Kasia heard only garbled words.
She had no idea what he wanted her to say, but if nothing else happened all day, Tatuś had to hear that her innocence had been stolen from her—not given. That was all that mattered right now. “He raped me. The first time we had sex, Blake raped me.”
Boom. Everything at once. Kasia wished a million times in the next minute that she could take it back.
Tatuś stood, on fire. “What?”
Sheriff Schilling stepped away from the back wall.
Blake jumped out of his seat and threw an accusing finger at her. “You lying whore!”
The gavel slammed down.
Her dad knocked his chair backward and rocketed toward the front of the courtroom, Sheriff Schilling after him. He reached across the table with both hands and pulled Blake up by his collar. “That’s my daughter you’re calling a whore! Don’t you dare—”
The gavel slammed down. “Order!”
Blake’s attorney shouted, “Your honor, this is outrageous. We’d like to press charges for third-degree assault.” He pushed Blake back into his seat.
And Tatuś hung his head. “Your honor, I’m sorry. I—” The apology came too late.
“Mr. Bernolak, you are being placed under arrest.”
“Yes, sir, your honor. Forgive me.”
No!
Deputy Schilling put him in handcuffs and led him out the side door of the courtroom.
Before the door shut, Tatuś turned to Kasia and mouthed, I’m sorry.
The Honorable Daniel Wilson spoke firmly. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m holding you in contempt of court for that remark. And if I were you, I’d choose words from here on out that demonstrate your ability to show respect, rather than help Miss Bernolak solidify her case. Am I understood?”
Blake scowled, and his lawyer stepped on his foot.
Like a child, Blake spouted, “Yes, your honor. Sorry.”
How had she not seen him like this?
The judge turned to her. “Miss Bernolak, have you pressed criminal charges against Mr. Hamilton for the rape you’ve accused him of committing?”
“No, sir, your honor. It’s way too late for that. I…I just wanted to go on record as saying that I didn’t have sex willingly—at least not at first.” She glanced at Mama. Tears poured down her ashen face. Lenka’s head bowed.
The judge cleared his throat and asked if the defense had any further questions. Finally, he said, “Miss Bernolak, you may step down.”
Kasia rejoined Lydia at the table. Lydia simply whispered, “You did well.”
; The judge called the first witness, and Tatuś was in a jail cell somewhere.
43
The hallway is a torture chamber.
Zan stared at the marble floor in the lobby, praying for Kasia. It’d seemed like with all the evidence they’d piled up, this hearing was a sure win.
He was just out here, talking music with Jayce, and then chaos broke loose inside. What had happened in there?
After the ruckus settled, the double doors opened. “Jayson McEwan.” Jayce stood and nodded to the rest of them. The doors closed behind him.
“Aurelia Jane Montreuil.”
“Kyle Compton.” Zan breathed a little easier. It had been awkward in the hall with only Kyle and a bunch of strangers.
“Ken Winston.” The man who’d taken care of Kasia at the bonfire gave Zan a weak smile.
“Patrice Anderson.” The tall woman strode through those doors on a mission.
Only Zan and Officer Osbourne were left. Zan glanced over at the man who’d come to Kasia’s rescue yesterday. “I’m glad you went back for your coffee. Good timing, huh?”
“The weirdest. But yeah, I can agree with good timing.”
“Thanks. For saving her.”
Officer Osbourne dipped his head. “It’s what I do. She’s your girlfriend?”
Zan chuckled. “No, she’s not.” You got an hour? I could try to explain how I feel.
“I understand.”
At least someone did.
The doors swung back open. “Alexander Maddox.” Zan straightened his tie and walked into the courtroom, nerves on edge.
~*~
Kasia took a deep breath. After about two hours of witness after witness, Officer Osbourne stepped down and took a seat. The room was silent.
Kasia wondered where Tatuś was. What they’d do to him. How all this would affect his reputation.
“I believe that’s all from the plaintiff. Am I right?” the judge asked.
Lydia said, “That’s all, your honor.”
Then the judge said, “Defense? It’s your turn, Mr. Hamilton, to take the stand and speak for yourself.”
Blake’s lawyer spoke quickly to him as he rose to his feet. Blake walked to the stand, swore to tell the truth, and sat down, looked blankly at the judge.
“Well, young man?”
He scanned the faces of the crowd and gulped.
Jayce muttered, “What a wuss.”
Blake glanced at his parents and then back at the judge. “Kasia and I were real happy for a long time,” he said softly. “I don’t know why she walked away. I loved her—still love her. She couldn’t even explain why she didn’t want to marry me.” With every word, Blake sat taller on the witness stand. Apparently, he was getting used to the limelight.
He pointed at her and looked at the judge. “But that rape thing is a total lie. She’s just afraid to tell her stupid parents we were doing it. Whole family of right-wing fundamentalists.”
Her face flushed.
Blake’s attorney stood, thanked Blake for his testimony—tried to cut him off.
“Maybe I’m just guilty of giving her a way out of that mess, a shot at a better life. I just wanted answers, you know? If that cop hadn’t shown up yesterday, I would’ve gotten some out of her too.”
Blake’s father stood then, a tower of authority, eyes blazing. “Not another word, Blake.”
Blake slammed his hand down on the podium. “That didn’t come out right. That’s not what I meant!”
“I agree with your father,” said the judge. “We don’t need to hear anymore. We’ll recess for ten minutes, and I’ll come back with my decision.”
The tension in the room was palpable.
Kasia felt a slight hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Mamusia’s face.
“Kasiu. I believe you.”
“I only remembered last week. And—Tatuś. I’m so sorry.”
Mama’s eyes filled with tears as she knelt. “I feel like I need to apologize for not seeing. I had no idea what you were dealing with.”
“Maybe you would’ve if Blake and I had ever been around. I didn’t—”
Mama sighed. “We could apologize all day. It’s enough that we can work through it now, but that doesn’t take it away. I wish it did. I’m proud of you, wiesz? You’re brave. Silna.” Strong.
Kasia pulled her lips between her teeth. “Thank you.”
“All rise,” the bailiff called. Mama went back to her seat.
Judge Wilson took his seat. “Based on the preponderance of evidence, I find there is a credible threat to the plaintiff’s safety. I believe we’ve seen and heard evidence here today of both stalking and abuse, according to South Carolina state law. Therefore, I do authorize a protective order…” Judge Wilson explained the limitations.
He stopped reading the wordy decision for a moment and leveled his stare at Blake. “Mr. Hamilton, let us be sure you know what this means. There will be no contact—direct or indirect. No letters or flowers, no phone calls, no calls from your sister, no emails or texts. No. Contact.”
Kasia felt jittery with relief—finally. She would be safe. Safe enough, maybe, to find healing.
“In addition,” the judge said, “the court recommends professional counseling so that you can learn some less aggressive methods of communication.”
Blake and his attorney balked at that.
The judge leaned forward over the bench. “It’s either that or batterer intervention, son. Which would you prefer to have on your record?”
The attorney pressed Blake’s arm to the table. “Professional counseling is fine.”
Blake crossed his arms and turned away from the judge. Petulant child.
“Well, then,” the judge replied. “The clerk will be in touch with the legal teams to schedule the criminal trial, and you can expect it to begin within two weeks. Are there any other questions?”
“No, your honor,” the attorneys answered.
“Then this hearing is adjourned.”
“All rise!”
As soon as Judge Wilson was gone, Kasia fell back into her seat, buried her face in her hands, and let the tears fall.
With relief. She could walk around without looking over her shoulder.
With pride. Head-on, unshrinking, she’d exposed him for a sick coward.
She’d finally fought when it mattered.
But she also cried with remorse. For too long, she’d accepted Blake’s manipulation and lies. He should’ve been put away for rape, and she’d been too blind to recognize that’s what had happened.
And this mess was how Tatuś heard it all. If only she’d risked honesty earlier. Would her delay cost him his ministry?
Her chest throbbed.
A chair scraped against the tile floor nearby, and a hand rested on her knee. That wedding band.
Tatuś? Her hands fell into her lap, and he grasped them tightly. His callused thumbs moved against her knuckles, and she risked a look into his eyes. She saw two things: compassion and tenderness. Her daddy’s eyes were half-moons, the creases in his face familiar and warm. She sniffed as he wiped her tears away.
“How—”
“Jim had another officer book me right away, and then he personally posted my bail. I’ve been in the lobby for a couple of minutes. Kasiu.” He waited until she met his gaze. “I asked you to remember something. Do you?”
She swallowed.
He spoke again. “Nothing will change my love for you. Not your choices, not things that happen to you. Not ever.”
“Will you lose your job?”
“I don’t believe I will, but listen to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for you. For either of my girls.”
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Curly-Q. No matter what.”
44
Zan hung back, leaned against the cool wall in the hallway, while everyone else chatted about the hearing and the relief Kasia must be feeling. He couldn’t imagine.
Lydia passed Mrs.
B. her card. “If you have need of me during the criminal trial, please let me know as soon as possible. I’ll take the case pro bono.”
Zan walked toward the water fountain to give them some privacy.
“Zan?” Lydia’s shoes clacked toward him. “A moment?”
Surprised, he turned. “Sure.”
She picked up her briefcase and an envelope, walked toward the exit. “Bailey asked me to pass this on. It’s for Kasia, but she wanted you to deliver it, not me.”
He reached for the envelope. “When should I—?”
“She said you’d know. It’s meant to be encouraging. Give it to Kasia whenever you feel she needs that.”
“I will. Thank you, by the way.”
“Take care.” She walked out the door.
He slid the envelope into his inner jacket pocket and joined the others. Lena sure stuck close to Kyle. Zan wondered if she was still cheering for him or—nope, that smile said she might be interested in snagging Kyle’s attention for herself.
Cool. Zan could handle that.
“We were all saying how hungry a hearin’ makes ya,” Jayce said.
Zan smiled. “All y’all, huh?”
“Prob’ly mostly me, but everybody could eat.”
Zan checked his watch and followed everyone toward the lot.
As he got to the exit, a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I think it would be best to get back to normal as quickly as possible,” Pastor Bernolak said.
“Yes, sir.” Zan glanced over.
“Why don’t you invite Kasia to ride with you to Mahoney’s?” Mr. B. smiled.
“I thought she’d want to be with you.”
“Maybe, but you’ve been a trustworthy friend, and she…well. Just give her the option.”
Zan smiled back. “Yes, sir.”
~*~
Kasia’s ambivalence was about to drive her crazy. Exhausted but wired. Wanting home, wanting friends.
“Kasia.” Zan jogged up beside her. “That went well. How do you feel?”
She shrugged.
“You probably made them nervous. You’re stronger than they thought.”
She cocked her head.
“What are your plans after lunch? Going home awhile, or jumping back in?”
That was the question of the day. And phrased that way, it was easy to decide. “I won’t run. I’ll be at the homework club.”
Strains of Silence Page 31
