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“I don’t get it. You said you didn’t want to be a cop because it was too depressing. Isn’t being a judge just as depressing?”
“I wasn’t in charge of solving crimes. I was in charge of locking people up or letting them go free. I wasn’t out looking for criminals. I saw them after they’d been caught. There’s a difference. It’s hard to explain unless you know a lot about the criminal justice system, but the bottom line is that yes, it was depressing at times, but it also gave me hope.”
“How so?”
“I saw that people can change. Criminals can be reformed. Not always, but sometimes. And people who grew up in horrible conditions can get out and make something of themselves. For every bad story, there’s a good one, and that’s what kept me going every day.”
“When did you retire?”
“The day I turned sixty. I could’ve waited but I’d had enough. I wanted to relax and enjoy my golden years before I got too old to appreciate them.”
He’s a retired judge. I never would’ve guessed that. I thought everyone in this town was a farmer or somehow involved with farming. There’s wheat fields everywhere you look, in every direction. I can’t imagine retiring here, but I guess if you grew up here and liked it you might want to move back.
The phone rings but when I go to pick it up, I realize it’s not Miller’s phone. It’s Hank’s. His cell phone sounds like Miller’s landline phone except it’s really loud.
Hank fishes it out of his pocket and answers. “Yes, sweetheart, what do you need?” He listens and nods. “Fine. We’ll bring them over tonight.” He nods again. “I’ll stop and pick some up.” He smiles. “Love you, too. Be home soon.” He hangs up. “That was the wife.”
He really loves her. I could tell by the way his face lit up when he answered the phone and by the way he talked to her, with so much love in his voice. When my mom was alive, I never heard my father talk to her that way. Most of the time, he wasn’t even home, and when he was, he mostly ignored my mom.
“She needs me to haul some tables over to the firehouse,” Hank says. “They’re having a fundraiser and Lois is in charge of setting everything up. You should come. You should at least stop by for some food.”
“I’ll be there. I’m going with Sage and her friend, Nina.”
“Two girls?” He smiles. “And you’ve only been here, what…not even a week?”
I smile back. “We’re just going as friends.”
He cocks his brow. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Okay, yeah, Sage and I are going as a couple but it’s not a big deal. We just met.”
“I think you two would be good together.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugs. “I just do. I have a feeling about these things.”
“What things?”
“People. How they work together. Whether they’re a good fit. Believe me, I’ve seen just about every type of person come through my court and after a while you start to see which types go together and which don’t. Some people shouldn’t even be in the same room together. Othersshouldbe together but are too blind or stubborn to see it. Like these two lawyers that were always in my court. A defense attorney and a prosecutor. They acted like they hated each other in the courtroom but it was clear they were meant to be together.”
“How could you tell?”
“There was a spark between them. Mutual admiration. Respect. When she’d be talking, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. When it was his turn to speak, he’d be so flustered from watching her that he’d have to take a moment to compose himself. One day I called them both back to chambers and told them they needed to cool it in the courtroom. They didn’t understand so I explained that their attraction to each other was too much for the court. They were heating the place up so much it was becoming a distraction. I practically ordered them to go out for a drink to deal with this issue, which they did. And six months later? They were married.”
“And did it last?”
“They’ve been married twenty years. Have a kid in college and two in high school. They send me a Christmas card every year. So I know these things, and even though I haven’t seen you two together, I get the feeling you and Sage would make a good couple.”
“Maybe so, but neither one of us plans to stay here so it’d never work out.”
“It’ll work out if you want it to.” He shoves his feet down on the footrest, popping the chair back up to a sitting position. “Well, I suppose I better get out there.” He stands up. “Good luck with your writing.”
“Thanks.” I follow him to the kitchen. “Oh, and if you need to use the bathroom, just knock or ring the bell or something so I know you’re coming in.”
“Will do.” He sets his empty beer bottle down, then grabs another from the fridge. As he pops the cap off, he winks at me. “Last one.”
“Got it. I’ll make sure to get some more.”
