She moved closer. “Poor Press. I can’t believe he was charged for kicking a can.”
“It’s not fair, but nobody ever said the law was fair.”
Lilah was shocked. “But it’s unjust. I can’t believe it. How can you?”
He gave her a jaded look. “This is New Jersey…anything’s possible. And students versus the cops in Grantham…well…we all know there’s no love lost on either side. If his attorney recommended he plead guilty, he probably thought it was the most painless way to end the whole incident.”
“But we’re supposed to have a justice system that other countries look up to. Painless shouldn’t be the criterion for decision-making,” she protested.
“Well, consider this. At least he can afford a lawyer. A lot of people in this room can’t.”
Another naive balloon had just burst. “It’s eye-opening, that’s all I can say.” And why wasn’t Justin more outraged, she wondered. He seemed to accept what was doled out as a given, accept the rationalizations inherent in the system. If she were Press, she would have pleaded not guilty and argued her case.
PRESS AND HIS LAWYER stood at the railing in front of the judge. Bruce had already explained the events and entered a plea of guilty.
When he finished, the judge looked perplexed. “I’m confused. Is the recycling bin destroyed?” She turned to the officer in question.
“It sustained a crack in the top,” he replied formally.
Press struggled to keep quiet.
“But it’s still in use, then?” she asked again.
Bruce spoke softly to Press, who gave him the information. “Yes, Your Honor, it is.”
The judge rested her chin on her hand. She had short curly hair, and beneath her robes she wore a bright pink top. “In any case, Mr. Lodge is still responsible for whatever damage was incurred.” She paused before looking at Press’s lawyer. “Could you explain one other thing that seems to be absent from the testimony? Was there a reason the police approached Mr. ah—” the judge looked at her paperwork “—Lodge in the first place?” She looked up over her half glasses.
“If it please the court, I think I can shed light on the reason.” A magisterial male voice spoke up from the back of the room.
The judge raised her chin. Everyone else turned around to gawk at the source. Press didn’t need to turn to know who had spoken.
Conrad stepped forward. “I’m Conrad Lodge III.”
“Certainly we all recognize our former mayor,” the judge responded.
“And the reason the police were at Lion Inn was because they had brought me there. I was intoxicated and in no shape to drive. I informed them that I’d be able to get a ride from someone in the building. It was quite late, and it was clear that Press had been working very hard all evening. The last thing he needed was to be his father’s babysitter.”
The judge pressed the tip of her tongue against her top lip, then spoke to the prosecutor. “Do you have a recommendation?”
The prosecutor suggested serving forty community service hours in lieu of any fines or incarceration.
The judge raised an eyebrow. Then she shuffled the papers in front of her and raised her pen. “That all seems more than fair. Can we set a date of six weeks to complete the community service? That would allow us to have the follow-up court appearance on—” she flipped through her calendar “—August 4. That’s a Thursday, in the morning?”
She looked up.
Press spoke softly to his lawyer, who turned to the judge. “My client is currently working at an internship in New York City at the American Museum of Natural History, and that is the last week of the program when the participants make their presentations. Is there any way we can move it to a later date?”
“Unfortunately, I will be on vacation from the end of August. But given that the recycling bin in question appears still to be in perfectly fine working order…” She slanted a narrow glance at the policeman involved in the case. He seemed to have shrunk into his swivel chair. “I’m more than happy to have you as his counsel present written documentation on the August 4 date. Do we have agreement?”
Press nodded to Bruce.
“That would be most generous of you, Judge,” Bruce said with just the right touch of politeness that could no way be mistaken for sarcasm.
“One other thing, though.” The judge lifted her face after she had written down the information and passed it to the court clerk. “Mr. Lodge, Conrad Lodge III, that is?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Conrad stood at attention.
“In light of the fact that you appear to have been involved in the circumstances, I think it only fair that you participate in the community service along with your son. Naturally, the court cannot force you to do so since you were not charged with any crime, but as a gesture of goodwill and as an example of parental responsibility, I highly advise you to take note of the court’s suggestion.” She waited, putting Conrad on the spot.
Press was ready for some condescending rejoinder, putting the judge in her place. Which was why he was totally surprised when his father said humbly—well, just a bit humbly, “I think that’s only fair, Your Honor.” Then he turned to Press. “And I mean it.”
LILAH COULD HARDLY TAKE it all in. “I wonder how he found out. It looks like Press was as surprised as everyone else—maybe more so.”
“I’m sure Mimi will be able to clue you in when we get out of here.” On the sly, he was looking at his emails on his iPhone, frowning.
Press’s case ended quickly, and Lilah had been glad that the punishment wasn’t too harsh. She watched him turn and approach the couple from Hoagie Palace. The woman was insisting he talk to his father, and she was not taking no for an answer. As a group, along with the lawyer, they left quickly. First thing after she finished here, Lilah would definitely text Mimi.
Then she heard the bailiff call a case, using a name that was familiar to her. She quickly realized it was the name of the man who had rear-ended her rental car. He and his daughter moved forward to the judge, who questioned the man about the events. He muttered something about not really knowing what happened.
Lilah felt a pit in her stomach. If he suddenly started blaming her…
The prosecutor leaped up and explained, as he’d done numerous times that afternoon, that the defendant had pleaded guilty and the charge had been reduced to a fine plus court charges.
The judge nodded as she listened, then glanced at her notes. “I see that there’s a Lilah Evans listed, as well?”
Lilah sprang up. “I’m Lilah Evans.”
“Would you come forward?” the judge instructed.
Lilah scooted in front of Justin to reach the aisle—he gave her an encouraging smile—and she stood next to the others.
“I gather that your car was the one rear-ended?” the judge read without looking up.
Lilah agreed.
“And you were the one to call the ambulance? No, a passenger in your car?”
“No, I believe it was the defendant’s wife. She was in his truck,” Lilah answered.
The judge knitted her brows and looked at the man.
His daughter spoke up. “That was my mother. She just got alarmed. There was nothing wrong as it turned out. That’s just the way she is,” the young woman said, offering a smile.
The judge blinked and nodded her head dubiously. This seemed to be a common reaction on her part, Lilah had noted.
“But, Ms. Evans, you’re all right?” the judge asked Lilah.
“Fine, Your Honor.”
“Do you have anything further you’d like to say?”
Here was Lilah’s opportunity to rail against the gross waste of her time and the taxpayers’ money, and the cocksure attitude of the young Grantham policeman who seemed mor
e interested in feathering his arrest record than providing justice and keeping the streets safe. She opened her mouth. And thought about it. But when the words came out it was to say, “No, Your Honor. I think my statement to the police at the time of the accident was complete and accurate. All I can say is that I’ve learned a lot here today.”
The judge handed down the reduced sentence and announced the fine, and after all of Lilah’s anxiety and inconvenience, the…whatever it was…was over. She blinked and turned.
Justin rose and collected her shoulder bag. He joined her in the aisle and they headed out to the lobby.
“I was right not to say anything else, don’t you think? I mean, it’s not like I want the man to suffer. And I think it wasn’t fair to make other people wait any longer.” She held out her hand for her bag.
Her phone started ringing inside. She fumbled for it and looked at the screen. The number wasn’t one she recognized. “Hello.”
“Lilah, it’s Noreen.”
“Noreen.” Lilah gave Justin the news with a smile. “What’s up? You and Matt got in with no problems?”
“The Air France flight from Paris was pretty much on time and we’re at our hotel in the capital, Kinshasa, now. I’m glad you warned me about the faded glory of the place. Frankly, I think you were being generous.”
“The sight of dilapidated 1980s concrete high-rises doesn’t really do much for tourist brochures. And you got a taxi all right from the airport?”
“Thank goodness you arranged for a representative from your office here to accompany us. The whole taxi–little bus system appears to be a mystery. In fact, calling it a system would be a gross overstatement. Anyway, we even had our first meeting at their office.”
“That’s fantastic.” She covered her other ear to muffle the sound of the people mingling outside the courtroom. “Listen, hold up a minute. I just want to move where it’s quieter. I’ve just finished my court appearance—a total no-brainer and a complete waste of the taxpayers’ money. What can I say?”
She pushed open the heavy glass door to the stairwell, trotted down the few steps of the hallway until she reached the outer door. She leaned into the handle to push it open, then found a calm spot away from the parking lot and near the brown stone wall of the municipal building. “So it all sounds like it’s going smoothly. Do you have your itinerary set for visiting the villages?”
“Actually, that’s what I’m calling about.” There was hesitation from Noreen’s end of the phone line.
“Oh, no, don’t tell me the rains have washed out the local roads? Sometimes even four-wheel drive vehicles can’t get around for days, even weeks.”
“Lilah, it’s not the roads.”
Lilah suddenly felt her excitement fade. She turned to see Justin catching up to her. She leaned against the wall and hugged her middle with her free arm. “What’s wrong, then? The usual bureaucratic hassles? Who wants a bribe now?”
“We haven’t encountered anything like that. It’s the rebels. There’ve been some new attacks.” There was an echo coming across the line, which gave the news a certain surreal quality.
Lilah hugged herself harder. “Please tell me that you and Matt are okay.”
“We’re fine, absolutely fine. It’s not us. It’s out in the eastern villages.”
“Which villages?” Lilah could feel fear rise in her throat even an ocean away.
Noreen named some villages near Kilembo, including one last one—the one very familiar to Lilah.
“Tell me everything,” she insisted.
Noreen gave a detailed account of the bloodshed, including the number of fatalities.
Lilah didn’t say anything.
“Lilah? Lilah? Are you still there?” For the first time Noreen’s voice was frantic.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Lilah couldn’t bring herself to say her friend’s name.
“Yes, Esther was one of the casualties.”
“I should have been there.” Lilah closed her eyes to fight off the tears. For Esther’s sake she would not cry. She had to be brave.
“Lilah, there was nothing you could have done. No one saw this coming. And if anything, you could have been another tragic statistic,” Noreen argued.
Lilah rubbed the back of her neck, trying to shut out the pain. “Listen, I’ll get the first flight out and join you. Please don’t leave the capital before I get there. And, Noreen?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for calling me right away.”
“There was no point in delaying the news. Besides, I thought you might want to hear about the funeral arrangements.” Noreen explained the plans, gave the details then said goodbye.
Lilah turned off her phone. She was aware for the first time that Justin had his hand on her shoulder. Only instead of feeling comforting, it was somehow annoying. She turned and faced him.
“There’s been some bad news from Congo,” she announced to him in businesslike fashion.
“Matt and Noreen?” he asked. Concern was etched in his face.
“They’re fine. Still in Kinshasa. No, there were raids in some of the outlying villages. Rebel forces. They killed Esther.” She spoke like she was dispassionately reading a telegram.
“Oh, my God, that’s terrible.” He went to give her a hug, but she retreated.
“While I was here enjoying myself, playing teacher’s helper and going to stupid traffic court—instead of doing my job, she was killed.”
“You can’t possibly think that you’re somehow responsible?” Justin asked with a shake of his head. “I mean, that’s just crazy. Not to mention outright hubris. You alone can’t stop these maniacs.”
“Excuse me. Who just preached to me not two weeks ago how one person can make a difference despite the odds? For that I’ll always be grateful.”
“Grateful?” he shouted. “You think I want gratitude? I want much more from you. And if you don’t know that, then…I’m not sure what’s going on here.”
“What is going on around here, Justin?” She looked at him inquiringly. “What are we playing at? I mean, you can’t tell me that you intend to follow me on my travels? You’ve got your own life, your own job that ties you down.”
He rolled his eyes. “I could tell you things about that job, but I told myself I wouldn’t.”
“Why not? You’re afraid that I won’t understand?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I didn’t want anything to get in the way of this…this…special moment we were sharing. I mean—” he looked around as if to find the right words “—it was all so good, I didn’t want to break the spell, the magic. Back in school, all these years since, you’ve been my ideal of someone to look up to—idealistic, principled, disciplined, achievement-oriented—a crusader for just causes.”
“Who just caved in the face of Judge…whatever her name is.” Lilah shook her head.
“Judge Freyman,” Justin supplied.
Lilah breathed in deeply. “You know, I don’t like what’s happening here—to me, to us. This pretend world, like the real one doesn’t exist. This compromising.”
Justin frowned. “What are you really getting at?”
Lilah swallowed with determination. “I’m saying that Reunions are over. It’s time to get on with reality.”
“And us?”
“There is no ‘us’ in the real world.”
He paced around in a circle before stopping in front of her. “So you’re saying that’s it? You’re just calling it quits? You’re not willing to try to give it a go? Wait out this difficult patch and…and—”
“And what? Wait for good things to happen? Maybe that’s just too naive? After all, didn’t you say that was the advice of children? I mean, what do they know about the re
al world? Good things don’t always happen in the real world. Just ask Press.” She pointed toward the front door where Press had exited. “Or ask Esther.”
Justin narrowed his eyes. “Ah, the trump card. The pathos of your work.”
“Are you blaming my work now for our…our…”
“Relationship,” he supplied. Again.
“Okay, for want of a better word, relationship. Are you blaming my work for the end of our relationship? Because if you are, that has a certain déjà vu quality about it. Let me see.” She tapped her chin melodramatically. “That’s right. Didn’t you criticize your old roommate and my ex—Stephen—for using the exact same rationale when he broke off our engagement?”
“I’m not Stephen and that’s not what I meant about your work,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Of course Esther’s death is tragic, and I know how close you were. But it still doesn’t justify running away—even for a good cause. Dammit, Lilah, I love you. And I think you love me, too, if you’d only admit it. We just need time.”
“Which is something I don’t have at the moment. I need to collect my stuff and find out the train schedule and catch the first plane to Congo. I want to be there for Esther’s funeral.”
“And after that?”
“I can’t think after that right now,” she answered stubbornly.
“And what am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Sit around and wait for your call?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Why don’t you fly with me?” But she didn’t say it. If he couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t take the bull by the horns, jump up and down and declare he was willing to fight for her—show some outrage at the world instead of—
She growled. “That’s so bloody like you to talk about something like sitting around and waiting. It’s just so passive. I’m not surprised your bully of a principal picks on you, you know. For that matter, maybe your aversion to testing is because it puts the kids—but mostly you—on the spot. So much nicer just to live in denial—the same way you avoided facing down your dyslexia in college by partying. Or the way you still let your father get to you. Why don’t you just tell him what a rotten job he did as a parent and then move on, huh? No, because that would require a confrontation, and you don’t do confrontations. You’d rather feel sorry for yourself.”
On Common Ground (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 23
