by Lia Conklin
“Not when you’ve been raised a lawyer, by a lawyer. I never knew anything else and never even considered that there was another choice. In many ways, I took the easiest route.” It was the first moment of introspection she had seen in his eyes, and it made his already handsome face even more appealing. Or maybe it was that second glass of wine.
“I guess easy versus hard, courageous versus safe are all relative,” she suggested.
Jonathon liked her suggestion so much that he placed his hand over hers, lightly caressing her fingers as he did so. It wasn’t the supercharged electricity she had felt with Donovan, but Amelia couldn’t deny the tingle that rushed up her arm and heightened the warmth in her already wine-warmed cheeks.
“Tell me about Central America. Honduras, did you say? I want to know all about you.” He insisted, his blue eyes boring into hers.
Maybe it was the wine, or his hand, or his eyes, but suddenly Amelia wanted him to know her too. She began with a vague reference to the accident and filled him in on some of the desolation and isolation of her life in Honduras. He was even more shocked than before.
“I had no idea that people really live like that. I mean… I guess I did, seeing it on the news and all, but to really hear it from someone who’s experienced it firsthand is amazing. How did you survive?”
“You just do, by taking one gulp of air in and letting another out, putting one foot forward and then the other after. Eventually you’re someplace where you can look back and see you’ve made progress. I’m just glad to be looking way back.”
“I’m glad you are too,” he replied, rubbing her hand magically once again. “If I promise to be a good boy, could we go someplace more comfortable?” he asked.
“Do you mean your place?” Amelia asked, not yet sure of dating code.
“Well, yeah, but we could go to a café or something too, if you’d be more comfortable.”
“I think a café would be great,” she replied, relieved. She knew he was too charming and her wounds too fresh. Neither of them could be trusted.
Chapter 47
The tingles Jonathon had given her at the restaurant were only a preview to those she now felt as she sat next to him on the café’s leather sofa. Their coffee lay untouched on the coffee table while his hands encircled hers. She had turned the conversation back to him and listened as he described a comfortable, albeit lonely, childhood as an only child. His mother had been unable to carry another baby to full-term, so Jonathon had lost several siblings to miscarriages. Jonathon’s story made Amelia understand for the first time that despite her brother’s death, she was lucky to have had him at all.
Moved by Jonathon’s candor and the clarity it had given her, she responded with her own, and within minutes told him of the tragedy that had ripped her family away from her thirteen years ago. When she finished, she remembered the plan she and Connie had and decided to plunge ahead with it.
“I want to file a personal injury suit against the natural gas company, and I was wondering if your firm could take my case.”
She could see immediately that she had made a mistake as she felt his hand and the thigh that had rested against hers move away.
“I’m sorry,” she responded instinctively, reaching back for the hand he had withdrawn. “Please don’t think this date has anything to do with my request. I just couldn’t keep myself from asking. Just forget I ever asked.” She wasn’t entirely dishonest, for she really had planned to ask him, she just hadn’t counted on the strength of their connection making the request so awkward.
“Don’t apologize, Amelia,” he replied, allowing his hand to be drawn back into hers. “I was surprised, that’s all, and I can’t deny that for a moment this date seemed like a convenient excuse for asking. But I believe you, and no offense taken.”
Amelia didn’t know what to say next. She wanted an answer to her question but at the same time wanted to recuperate the connection she had so suddenly lost.
“Listen, Amelia,” Jonathon said, solving her dilemma for her. “Why don’t you meet with my father and me tomorrow, and we can talk about it then. I can’t really make a decision without him anyway. In the meantime, I want to say how sorry I am about what happened to your family, and I hope I can help you get the closure you’re looking for.”
She felt like an ass. If the sofa could swallow her, she’d feed herself to it in a second. She had a lot of making up to do.
“I’m so sorry to wreck this beautiful night,” she apologized, removing her hands from his to cup them around his face. “Please forgive me,” she added lifting her face up to touch her lips to his.
His response was immediate and forgiving, and the warmth of his lips as they welcomed hers weakened her knees as she uncrossed them to invite his hand upon her thigh. Amelia was both thankful and regretful of the public arena.
As for Jonathon, who broke their kiss to huskily scold, “It’s time to get you home now,” she was pretty sure he felt only the latter.
Chapter 48
She awoke the next morning with the memory of the dueling fantasies that had put her to sleep: in this corner, the exotic and raw Indian brave with his death-defying courage and carnal instinct; and in this corner, the exquisitely manicured attorney-at-law with his charming allure and social grace! It was an unfair fight, for as they carried her off to sleep, Jonathon all but disappeared, leaving Donovan’s face, smell, and body entangled with hers. But this morning, her stomach was in no mood to abide her fantasies. And as she heaved her dinner into the toilet, she felt the irony of a kingly dinner being rejected by a peasant’s stomach. Maybe next time she’d have the filet mignon.
Despite the fact that it was Saturday, Jonathon and his father would be at the office as was their custom. Jonathon assured her that they would be delighted to hear about her case and asked her to be there at 10:00 a.m. It was already 9:00 when Amelia realized she had nothing appropriate to wear, so she changed for the meeting in the Target dressing room, displaying the tags in her hand for the cashier to scan on her way out of the store. Though she made it to the building by 10:00 a.m., it was five minutes later by the time she got to their suite.
“Please excuse my lateness,” she apologized, offering her hand to Jonathon and his father as she entered their office, “I’m still on Honduran time.”
“No need to apologize, young lady. We’re here to serve you on any time,” Jonathon’s father assured her, introducing himself as Jonathon Senior. He wasn’t as startlingly good looking as Jonathon, but what he lacked there he made up for in charisma and confidence.
“So, let’s get down to business,” Jonathon Sr. said, after Amelia politely declined the coffee he offered. “Johnny says you’d like us to take a case for you. Why not tell us all about it.”
It took a bit of weaving and backtracking to tell the tangled story, but when she finally finished, they were satisfied they had heard enough.
“That’s unbelievably tragic,” Jonathon Sr. consoled. “I am so deeply sorry for your loss. As you may know, my son and I have suffered a loss, ourselves, recently so I can assure you I can understand how you must feel. Here’s what we can do for you. We’d need a three-thousand-dollar retainer to get started. Because you just recently discovered the company negligence, the ‘discovery rule’ should supersede the statute of limitations. However, until we get a preliminary look at the evidence, I can’t commit to taking your case. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll take a look at the evidence, and if we decide we don’t have a case, we’ll refund you any of the retainer that wasn’t used to cover our expenses.”
If Jonathon hadn’t been sitting next to him, Amelia would have felt sure she was being swindled by some charming, smooth-talking, charismatic salesman passing himself off as a lawyer. But when she looked over at Jonathon, he assured her with his smile that she was among friends.
“That sounds just fine,” she consented.
“Johnny, get her the paperwork for the retainer. We’ll need all that filled o
ut,” he explained as Jonathon handed her a folder, “and the retainer before we can get started.”
“I’ll have it to you on Monday,” she promised.
Chapter 49
Monday took its time arriving, but at least that gave Amelia some time to catch up with her grandmother.
“What have you been up to, dear?” her grandmother asked. “Besides not getting your driver’s license,” she added admonishingly.
Amelia winced sheepishly.
“I know. I know. I didn’t use one in Honduras, so I just keep forgetting that I need one here. I’ll take my permit test next week. Promise.”
Then she filled her grandmother in on her encounter with Toby and her visits with Connie, without the details of course. To make up for procrastinating on getting her driver’s license, she capped off her account by sharing her date with Jonathon.
“We had a really great time. He’s a lawyer.” She knew that would get her grandmother’s attention.
“How grand! I always told my daughters to marry a lawyer or a doctor, or even an engineer. ‘Deadbeat’ was never anywhere on the list but somehow, they each found one. Look where that got them. Not that I can really blame Susan’s death on that Deadbeat Dennis, but might as well, since he made her life a living hell in every other respect. I think about that now, and it actually gives me comfort to know she’s away from him. Good-for-nothing. So, a lawyer,” she repeated back on track. “How nice. You have a good time with him, dear, and don’t let him get away!”
“I was thinking about getting to know him first, Grandma. You know, see what kind of person he is before hauling him to the altar.”
“Well, if you ask me, anyone who has enough intelligence and motivation to make it through law school and pass the bar is a good enough person to marry. You’ll always be well provided for and respected in your community.”
“Maybe, Grandma. But women are a bit pickier these days. We expect passion, love, and mutual understanding.”
“Maybe so, but when all that fluff blows off in the wind, the providing part is the one thing you can rely on. That’s the backbone of a lasting relationship.”
“You win, Grandma!” Amelia laughed, picturing passion, mutual respect and love all fluttering off on the breeze like so many feathers from a ruptured pillow. Suddenly remembering another feather pillow, she realized maybe her grandmother was right.
Chapter 50
As Amelia rode the elevator to the offices of Lundberg and Son, she began to contemplate what this lawsuit would mean for her. She already had some start-up capital, so although the money would be nice, it really didn’t matter much. Of course, she hoped that she would feel some closure knowing that someone had paid for the accident in the moral sense, and that it hadn’t just gotten swept under the rug, or into a landfill, in the literal sense. More than anything, however, she hoped to fulfill her promise to her mother and brother, and that the act of fulfilling it would allow her to move forward with her life. When the elevator door opened to reveal Jonathon before her, she realized another benefit: she would have plenty of time to get to know him better.
“I…I’ve got the paperwork and the retainer for you,” Amelia stammered, breaking the giddy pause as they grinned at each other. Jonathon took the folder she handed him without breaking her gaze.
“Follow me into my office,” he said motioning her forward, “I’ve got something to share with you, as well.”
“First,” he said, closing the door and drawing her to him, “I need an appropriate hello.”
It took little for her to recall the sweetness of their shared kisses, and even without the wine, she felt her face, and other areas of her body, flush.
“Much better,” he said, pulling out her chair and motioning for her to be seated.
“Are you always so welcoming with your clients, Attorney Lundberg?” Amelia chided as Jonathon took his seat across the desk from her.
“Of course,” he confessed. “It’s what distinguishes us from the competition.”
Amelia felt like pouncing across the desk to lap away his lopsided grin with playful kisses, and may have succeeded in doing just that had Jonathon not resumed the conversation so quickly and so professionally.
“Well, Amelia, I had a chance to look into some of the evidence from the explosion. I know I was supposed to wait,” he said, responding to her expression of surprise, “but I was just too impatient. I looked up the report and was discouraged to see that it pointed to a loose valve and not a faulty one. I’m sure your family hadn’t messed with the valve, but we’ll need another witness to support that. Would your father be able to testify?”
Amelia looked at him. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that she might need her father for this? He was the reason she was here in the first place, having shirked his duty so many years ago. And now she was going to need him?
“Is that necessary?” she finally asked, before adding, “I’d like to leave him out of it if at all possible.”
“Well, this is going to be an uphill battle, Amelia. We can use all the help we can get. I guess we can go ahead without him if we have to, but I really don’t recommend it. His testimony would definitely help your suit.”
Amelia sighed.
“The truth is that he’s not here…not in Minnesota,” she responded.
“Oh. He’s in Honduras, then? Yes, that makes it trickier, doesn’t it?” Jonathon mused.
Amelia didn’t bother to correct him, or rather, didn’t know whether or not he needed correcting, so she kept mute as he considered their options.
“We could depose him,” he said. “We could set up a deposition with an attorney in Honduras, and they could forward it to us. It’s a little complex, legally, doing this across borders, but I think we can work through the legal complexities. Could you get your father to set it up?”
Amelia knew that even if her father were at all inclined to pursue a lawsuit (which she doubted since he never had), and even if there weren’t a question about whether or not he actually was in Honduras (which she hoped was the case but had no verification of), that it would still take painstaking effort and patience to coordinate a deposition with the Honduran legal system. But if that was what was needed to make this work, she would make it happen.
“I’ll call and get things rolling,” she finally assented with more confidence than she felt.
“Excellent! While you move ahead with that, I’ll look deeper into your case. You free for lunch?”
“Absolutely!” she exclaimed. “But this time it’s my choice. You should ditch the suitcoat and tie,” she advised. “You won’t need it where we’re going.”
“Now you have me worried,” he kidded, proceeding to do what she had requested, and as he removed his suitcoat and undid the few buttons that secured his tie, Amelia couldn’t help but wish he would continue down the row, releasing one button at a time until they all parted to reveal the breathtaking view she knew they concealed. When she looked up from his buttons, she saw that he was watching her. As a blush rose to her cheeks, she noticed a similar color climb to his. His, she realized was rooted in a different cause. She marveled at how such subtle differences in hue could communicate so much between a man and a woman.
Chapter 51
That evening, after a hot bath and while her grandmother chatted over drinks at her country club, Amelia dialed the telephone. She had put off contacting her father ever since she returned from her lunch with Jonathon. Instead, she had daydreamed about Jonathon, going over the details of their date, relishing the memory of the fun they had had.
She had taken him to El Burrito Mercado in the West Side neighborhood of St. Paul. Its yellow stucco façade set within a neighborhood that hosted brightly painted murals celebrating Latina culture was a welcome beacon to anyone tired of America’s take on Latino fare. Inside, as its façade promised, colorful Mexican artesania and décor bedecked its walls and invited patrons towards grocery aisles and a deli-style restaurant. Banda music pulsed thro
ugh the air, and patrons— nearly equal parts Latinos and non-Latinos—flooded the aisles shopping for food, lined the restaurant counter ordering or awaiting their orders, or sat within the seating corral partaking of a variety of authentic Latina cocina, cuisine.
Amelia’s family had often gone there in the past both to get Mexican groceries and to eat together. It made sense that her father would want to run away to Latin America to recapture some of the flavor they had all enjoyed. He probably hadn’t figured on Honduran food being a distant cousin twice removed of other more flavorful Latina cuisine. It was another irony Amelia had endured, longing for the Latina cuisine of her Minnesota home as she resided in an actual Latin American country. Loni had tried her hand at a few Mexican dishes along the trail, but this would be the first time in thirteen years that Amelia would again indulge in the rich textures, colors, and spices of the authentic cocina of Mexico.
Amelia was not disappointed as she savored her tacos de carnitas, pulled-pork tacos. They were every bit as delicious as she remembered them. Though somewhat poignant, remembering her family here sharing similar moments together, she couldn’t help but delight in the convivial atmosphere and in her present company.
There were not only memories here, she realized, but new things for her to learn as well, for example, that a face could flush yet another hue of red for a very different reason. While Jonathon learned this the hard way, biting into his chile relleno, Amelia learned it vicariously, as an entertained observer. Laughing, she had handed him his agua de horchata, rice water, which he proceeded to down in two or three gulps.
“They’re not even hot!” Amelia had insisted through her laughter.
“The hell they’re noth,” he had protested, pronouncing ‘not’ with a ‘th’ as he held an ice cube to his tongue.
