Brody's Redemption

by Kay Lyons

  Bryan’s disbelief was evident in his eyes, his expression.

  “Bryan, something happened to that baby. Something Joe didn’t do. Please, I need you to look into this for me.”

  He shook his head. “Ashley, the odds of a reaction like that happening are astronomically rare.”

  “Please. If you won’t do it for me, do it for—for science. For your patients. Especially for Josie. For Max. Check into this. You told me you spent your residency in a big hospital back east. They would have up-to-date information on this, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Please, Bryan.”

  He stared at her a long moment. “I do have a buddy who’s a pediatric specialist. If I remember correctly, he’s gone to court on a case like this once. If anyone would know more about this, he would.”

  * * *

  THAT EVENING Hal frowned when he pulled up his drive and found Dr. Booker’s Mercedes parked by his door. He shifted the cruiser into Park and got out, his heart thumping wildly as he ran up the walk. A neighbor had called him when she’d seen the doc’s car and now he entered his house, glad she had.

  Melissa was hysterical.

  “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

  Mel raised her head from a woman’s shoulder and Hal frowned when he recognized her. “What are you doing here?”

  “She came with me,” Dr. Booker murmured. He stepped from the kitchen carrying a glass of water and pressed it into Melissa’s hand. “Drink this.”

  Hal moved forward only to have to stop and go around the baby boy crawling across the floor. “What is going on?”

  Melissa finally found her voice. “I can’t believe it. All this time. Oh, he’s got to hate me.” Melissa put her head in her hand and cried some more.

  “Mel, what—”

  The doc straightened. “We came to talk to Melissa about Josie.”

  Hal curled his hands into fists and glared at Ashley Cade. “What have you said—”

  “He didn’t do it,” Melissa choked out. “Dr. Booker doesn’t think Joe hurt her.”

  Hal shifted his gaze to the doc. “He did.”

  “There are multiple factors that indicate something else might have happened,” Bryan said.

  “The lack of bruises,” he snapped. “Josie didn’t weigh anything. He didn’t have to grip her hard and that’s why he didn’t bruise her.”

  “Chief, there’s reason to believe it could have been from something else.”

  “What else could explain a man shaking his baby to death?”

  Booker inhaled. “I checked with a colleague of mine back east. He’s one of the best pediatric specialists in the States. We went over every aspect of Josie’s file as well as Melissa’s records.”

  Hal stiffened. “How did you get those?”

  “Melissa used to be a patient of my grandfather’s before her diagnosis. I had copies of her records in my office. But the point is,” he continued, “we went over everything and after talking with Melissa, we’ve drawn a different conclusion—that Joe didn’t kill her.”

  “Then how did she—” Hal stopped, unable to go on, unable to take it all in. It wasn’t possible.

  Joe was guilty.

  “Swelling of the brain caused by an accidental overdose of an inoculation given too early to a baby too small. Vaccinations are completely safe so long as the children are healthy, but if they’re not—”

  “The baby was fine.”

  “Josie was under distress first during Melissa’s pregnancy, then during premature birth. I, uh, took the liberty of checking Melissa’s hospital chart. Her blood pressure was much too high during her pregnancy and extraordinarily high when she was sent to labor and delivery. The baby’s heartbeat was erratic and stopped twice during labor. That’s why her doctor performed a caesarian.”

  Hal felt his knees grow weak. Could it be possible? “Nobody ever told us her heart stopped.”

  “My guess is that they didn’t tell either of you about the problems because Josie’s tests came back within the normal ranges. Sometimes the effects of lack of oxygen don’t show up for years, sometimes not until the children are in school. When her tests came back fine, I’m sure they felt there wasn’t any need to frighten you any further than you already were under the circumstances.”

  Hal looked at his daughter. The little boy had crawled across the room to where his mother sat comforting Mel and now he used Mel’s pant legs to pull himself up. Even though she cried, Mel smiled at the baby.

  “Keep going,” he ordered.

  “Because of the multiple complications, Josie’s vaccinations should have been more closely monitored.”

  That got his attention. “You’re saying they weren’t? Who was the doctor?”

  “Dr. Peters,” Melissa whispered, her voice hoarse. “He’s in Florida now with his daughter. He has Alzheimer’s, remember?”

  Peters. The man had been older than the hills and thought of as a quack, but in small towns where doctors and money were typically scarce, the people took what they could get and prayed for the best.

  Booker cleared his throat. “I was talking to Ashley today about shots for her son when she asked specific questions based on some things Joe had said to her. She asked me to follow through and I did. Josie received full-strength vaccinations three days before she died.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  Melissa’s comment had Booker lowering himself onto his knees in front of her. “It’s no one’s fault. The doctor should’ve known better, yes, but odds of something like that happening are… one in a million. Maybe a billion. No one could have predicted such severe complications, not even Peters.”

  “But if I’d paid more attention to the dosage…”

  “You aren’t a doctor or a nurse,” Ashley murmured.

  “And this scientific information wasn’t available until the last few years, Melissa. Ten years ago no one knew it was a possibility.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t have known if it were me,” Ashley continued. “Melissa, you’re not to blame. That’s not why we’re here. We wanted to confirm Josie’s behavior before you left her with Joe that day, that’s all.”

  “But you’re saying that killed her?” Hal questioned, still unsure. “Not Joe?”

  Dr. Booker stood and stared him straight in the eyes. “In my professional opinion and given the lack of bruises or other abuse common in Shaken Baby Syndrome, yes. I can get a statement from the doctor I contacted if you’d like, confirming what I’ve told you. For some babies, the mistake wouldn’t have mattered, but with Josie and with all the other complications…it was too much. The type of reaction she had mimics the brain damage done by Shaken Baby Syndrome. The blood vessels swell and burst, seizures, brain damage—exactly what would have happened if she’d been violently shaken.”

  Melissa’s sobs filled the room. “Joe always said he didn’t do it. Always. But no one believed him. I didn’t believe him.” Her sobs increased again. “What have we done? Ten years of his life were taken away for nothing!”

  The enormity of it hit him then and Hal fell back into a chair. Dazed, sick. Mel was right. For ten years he’d blamed Joe. Watched an innocent kid be sentenced to a life most men wouldn’t have survived.

  He lowered his head into his hands and closed his eyes, but quickly opened them again when Ashley Cade’s baby boy pulled on his legs and smiled up at him, one small white tooth shining.

  “Bryan, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to find Joe and let him know Max is all right—I have to tell him about Josie. I know what happened today brought back memories for him, and I’ve been gone way too long as it is.”

  Hal stood, torn. “What happened today?”

  Ashley Cade glanced at Booker before her chin raised. “Max choked on an outlet cover. He couldn’t breathe and could’ve died, but Joe saved him.”

  He looked down at the baby boy, staggered by the events of the last few minutes. “Doc, can you stay here with Melissa
? I’ll drive Ms. Cade to— I…I have some things to say to Joe myself.”

  Booker nodded. “No problem.”

  Hal walked over to his daughter and drew her to her feet. “I love you, Mel.” He kissed her on the cheek, her tears wetting his lips. “You heard the doc. It’s not your fault.”

  “But, Dad—”

  He forced a smile to his lips. “God’s will be done, Mel. God’s will be done. Josie’s in heaven with your mama, keeping her company until we get there.”

  * * *

  JOE SQUATTED DOWN next to Josie’s grave and placed the bouquet of wildflowers at the base of her headstone. He was on his way to Baxter, but knew he couldn’t pass the cemetery without stopping.

  “Josie, I—” Tears clogged his throat and he swallowed them back. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry I didn’t know what to do for you.” He fingered the lettering of her name, the tiny angel carved into the stone so similar to the one on her crib. “And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come see you.” A shudder racked him before he regained control. “I didn’t want to see you like this, you know? I always want to think of you as awake and smiling and—” Joe ran a shaking hand over his face, his eyes. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

  Unable to stare at her name a moment longer, Joe shoved himself up and grabbed hold of his duffel. “You stay with your grandmas and keep them smiling, okay?” He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  Head down, his duffel over his shoulder, he left the cemetery.

  He’d already walked to Ridgewood and said goodbye to his pop. His old man hadn’t wanted him to go, and he’d spent more time there than he should have, arguing with his pop about his leaving. Afraid he wouldn’t come back like Jack, his father wanted Joe to check him out of the home early. But with no transportation and very little money, he couldn’t do it—wouldn’t do it and risk his father’s health.

  Joe kicked a rock in the road. For one brief moment in time, he’d been happy. Unbelievably so. And he realized it was more than some people ever experience in a lifetime so he should consider himself lucky and let it be enough.

  But it wasn’t. Because when it had really come down to it….

  She hadn’t believed him.

  His footsteps faltered, staggered, before he pulled himself together and kept walking. He’d be lucky to make it to Baxter before dark. Fatigue ate at him, dragged him down. The first stirrings of hunger after a day spent sick to his stomach with regrets.

  After letting him hold Max while she showered, Ashley had still believed the worst. And maybe she should have.

  Because he’d panicked. He’d stared at Max in horror when the boy’s face turned three shades of purple, and all the while he’d tried to get the piece of plastic out of his throat, he’d kept picturing Josie. Over and over. Dying in his arms.

  Don’t go.

  The whisper came to him from nowhere. A woman’s voice. Joe turned, but saw nothing. No one. He shifted the duffel on his shoulder and wondered if he’d lost his mind.

  He began walking again, picking up his pace. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to stand and fight, wanted to somehow make Ashley believe in him. Wanted to make the whole town know he wasn’t a baby killer, but that was an impossible task and sometimes a man had to know when to cut his losses and go.

  The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in Him.

  The line from his mother’s favorite Psalm came to him then as though sent directly from her, something he couldn’t ignore.

  Inhaling deeply, Joe paused there by the side of the road, his feet seemingly unable to move, the sound of crickets and bullfrogs in his ears, honeysuckle in the air.

  He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay. To spend his life with Ashley, but to do that he had to go back and face her. Not take the coward’s way out.

  Somehow he had to convince her he hadn’t been trying to hurt Max. Somehow he had to show her how much he loved them both.

  A siren wound into a squawk behind him, but then went silent. Fear spiraled through him at the thought of going back to prison before he could say the things he needed to say, but the verse echoed through his head again.

  Joe dropped the duffel, raised his hands. A door slammed behind him and he slowly turned to face the car. He hadn’t made the complete circle when Ashley slammed into him, her scent surrounding him even as her arms wound around his neck and she pressed her mouth to his, her tears wet on his face.

  “What are you doing? I went to the house and you weren’t there. You weren’t at the shed, weren’t at Ridgewood. Joe, you said you wouldn’t walk away!”

  He blinked, trembled…hoped.

  “You thought I hurt Max.”

  “No! Joe, I knew you weren’t hurting him. I believe you, Joe, I swear I do. I panicked. Something was wrong with my baby. I heard you shout and saw you—I freaked. I had to get to him, I had to help him and hold him. I admit I wasn’t thinking straight, but I certainly didn’t think you were trying to hurt him.” She framed his face with her hands, her expression furious, reminding him of the first time he’d seen her in Thompson’s hardware store. “I love you, Joe Brody. I believe in you and I know it might take a while for you to believe in me, but don’t you dare walk away from us after telling me you love—”

  Joe smothered her words with his mouth.

  “Joe, umph! S-stop— You—”

  He didn’t want to stop. If Hal was going to drag him to prison on some trumped up charge, he wanted Ashley’s taste to remember, to hold with him always.

  “If you’d let her up for air she’d be able to tell you we have something to say, Joe.”

  The chief’s tone got through the haze surrounding him. Joe looked up to see Melissa’s father leave the cruiser running and walk toward them. In the back seat, Max was tucked firmly in his car seat, sound asleep.

  Ashley slowly pulled away from him but stayed within arm’s reach, a hand at his waist. Her gaze slid between the two of them and she licked her lips nervously. “First…I need to explain something to you. Something very important.”

  And there on the road, outside the cemetery where Josie was buried, Joe learned the truth he’d always known. He staggered but Ashley was there, her arms firm while she held him close with support and love.

  Silence surrounded them, broken by the sound of the idling vehicle, crickets and birds. Ashley’s soft, husky voice telling him everything would be all right.

  “I don’t know what to say, Joe,” Hal murmured finally. “‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, and it never will be enough, but Lord knows I am.” Hal’s voice broke and the larger-than-life chief battled to hold on to his composure. “If I could go back in time—”

  “We can’t,” Joe informed him gruffly. Rage, the senseless loss, bombarded him at once. “We’d all change the past if we could.”

  Hal nodded, his head down. “I’ll do what I can to help you,” he continued. “Set things as right as I can. Try to make up for…everything.”

  Joe accepted the offer with a tense nod, knowing it would do no good to voice the responses in his head. He was willing, desperate, for the past to finally be over. And now that it seemed it might possibly be, he was also afraid he’d wake up. Afraid he’d dreamed the whole thing.

  Believe.

  Ashley stiffened, lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around them curiously. “Did you hear something?”

  Joe kissed the top of her head and took in the many rows of headstones, the one where the wildflowers lay already wilting. He blinked, barely breathed, narrowed his gaze when he thought he saw a little girl holding hands with two women. Two women who looked amazingly like his mother and Melissa’s.

  “Joe?”

  He didn’t look away until the image faded into nothingness. Then he swallowed, felt a peacefulness he hadn’t ever had before.

  “Joe?” Ashley said again.

  “Uh…yeah?”

  “Are you ready to go home now?�
�

  He pulled her close, hugged her too tight and buried his nose in her hair. “Yeah,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of her. “I’m home.”

  Epilogue

  ASHLEY WAS EXTREMELY conscious of Joe’s proud gaze when she and the mayor of Taylorsville cut the ribbon marking the official opening of Willow Wood Bed & Breakfast. Max squirmed in Joe’s arms to get down and she watched with a wince as he took off running and immediately stumbled.

  Big tears filled her son’s eyes, and her heart tugged with love as Max turned to Joe for help. Several murmurs of approval sounded around her as Joe righted Max, brushed off his tiny hands and then had Max smiling soon after.

  She sighed. Things just kept getting better.

  Since the choking incident, she hadn’t worried as much about being accepted or forcing herself on people. Partly because she’d realized the best way to go about things wasn’t to put herself in uncomfortable situations, but to simply be herself. Instead of a stranger, she was now a neighbor, a friend. When she went to the store, people greeted her by name—the same at the library, the gas station, the post office. Once she’d gotten over her fear of being rejected and placed her concentration solely on being a good, friendly person, things had changed. She had changed.

  All she’d had to do was take the first step. Smile, pitch in to help someone in need. Little things that meant more than she’d ever dreamed they could. Maybe in the beginning her reasons for helping were selfish, but now, well, now she couldn’t imagine not helping out the people who brought such happiness to her life.

  Bryan, Melissa, Hal and Mrs. Hilliard had also seen to it she and Joe were invited to a multitude of gatherings. Even Mr. Thompson had come around, and as though sensing her perusal, he lifted an obliging hand in greeting where he stood talking to the mayor.

  Smiling at the turnaround and still amused at his earlier begrudging praise on how nice her house looked, Ashley swung around to find her fiancé only to discover him closer than she’d thought. In a blink she stood nose to chest with Joe just like that first night after the storm.