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Me:
How can I help?
Luke:
Can you be available later today? I’ll come up with a plan.
That’s as much information as I have, and I don’t want to disrupt Luke’s train of thought by peppering him with questions. I don’t know what he’s planning, so last night I printed out all the photos I have of the two of us, slipped some into picture frames, made some into an album I supposedly gave him for his birthday, and grabbed little mementos from our supposed dates. It’s a mishmash of stuff that I didn’t have time to look at in depth because of the time crunch, and I can only hope that it’s enough to spell relationship and the kind of two-parent stability Luke hopes to present.
He’s done more than I requested, taking me on horseback rides and teaching me enough about ranch life for me to photograph the heck out of everything and round out the marketing materials for Loveland Ranch. I’m worried I haven’t done enough for him because I was too busy falling in love.
I reach over and put my hand on his thigh. The muscle bunches tight as he presses the gas pedal. Stress lines crease his forehead, and his shoulders are riding up near his ears. I find myself rolling my own shoulders down and back in response. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He doesn’t take his concentration from the road.
“Do you have a plan? For what to say?”
His mouth dips at the corners. “I think I need to tell the truth and hope to make the judge understand.”
“Honestly, going to the lengths you did kind of proves that you care enough to do anything necessary to keep custody of Scout. To me, that’s a good thing.”
He continues staring at the road, white knuckling the steering wheel. “Let’s hope the judge thinks so too.”
I want to say that I’ll do whatever he needs, but I think he knows that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have brought me with him today. Right? For now, I keep my lips pressed shut, not wanting to stress him out more.
When we pull up to the courthouse, I half expect to see Elizabeth out in front with her doting husband and a news crew, explaining how a “break” in the custody case all but assures her of getting the “right outcome.” But other than some pigeons and a couple of people walking up and down the front steps, the building looks virtually deserted. Maybe that’s the difference between Los Angeles with its constant celebrity scandals and a quieter place like Willow Springs. One more thing that I like about it here.
Luke parks the truck in the shade and comes around to open my door. I feel a little flutter in my heart, like I always do when his chivalry is directed at me. Holding out his hand, he helps me out of the truck and interlaces our fingers as we walk up the steps of the courthouse. I can feel his pulse, which is the only outward sign of how worked up he is. Otherwise, his face is a stony mask, and he walks with the same purposeful strength as always.
Luke’s lawyer, John, intercepts us as soon as we walk through the security screening area, talking like he’s continuing a conversation from sometime earlier. “She doesn’t normally hear evidentiary statements outside of court hours, but I called in a favor with a cousin who was her daughter’s favorite high school teacher. Introduced her to Shakespeare and now she’s a regular thespian in a traveling theater ensemble. The daughter, not the judge, obviously.”
I watch Luke’s reaction, hoping this news buoys him, but he looks bleary-eyed and half aware of what John is saying. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Just…do the best you can. That’s the best advice I can give you,” John says, walking ahead of us and holding out a hand like a stop sign when he gets to the judge’s office.
“Scout’s teacher could’ve given you that advice for a lot less than three hundred an hour,” I whisper. For the first time all morning, I get a hint of a smile. Luke squeezes my hand.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“Sometimes I need your perspective. And your sense of humor.”
The compliment warms me. I feel a glimmer of the man I’ve gotten to know, and I can only hope he’ll show this side to the judge so she’ll see what a great influence he is on Scout.
I can hear the rumble of voices and some female laughter, so I hope John is earning his hourly wage by warming up the judge like the first stand-up comic of the night.
Wearing an oversized smile, he pokes his head out and waves us in, talking all the while. “Thank you, Your Honor, for taking the time to see us today. We really appreciate it on such short notice.” He stands in front of the judge’s desk with his hands folded, rocking on his heels as though he wasn’t just yukking it up with her a minute ago.
She points at the chairs facing her desk, and we take a seat. Luke doesn’t let go of my hand. “I understand we have some differing versions of reality. Your ex-wife’s attorney has already been in touch with allegations that you fabricated a relationship to show stability in the household. Is that the case?”
Luke nods. “Your Honor, I appreciate you seeing us today. I do want to clear the air…”
He swallows hard and waits. A couple of seconds turn into half a minute, and I wonder if he’s having a panic attack or something worse. But when I look at Luke, he’s smiling.
He nods and puts his hands on the table in front of him. “I want to show you evidence of the loving relationship I have with Callie Demille, which has grown over time to provide a stable, nurturing environment for my son. We didn’t tell him about it at first because he’s four. He’d already suffered from his mother leaving, and I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. So we told him Callie was his babysitter. My special friend.”
Luke doesn’t look at me once while he says the words. I worry that they sound memorized or rehearsed, but maybe that’s because I’ve gotten to know him and I can tell when he’s holding something back.
