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So when we returned to her place, she disappeared into her room and returned with another suitcase. This one much bigger.
“Where are you going?” Harley asked the moment he saw it. “Are we going on a plane again?”
She brushed her hand over his head. “Nope, not this time. I am going to visit someone alone, and you and your dad will be here.”
“Will you be coming back?”
“Did you not remember that this was my house? Of course, I will come back, and if you need me, you can ask your dad to call me.”
“Okay, but I wish you weren’t leaving.”
“I know, buddy,” she said and smiled wistfully. “Now, you sit down and play while I talk to your daddy.”
“Are you sure you want to leave?” I asked her, and she cocked her head curiously. “I mean, I could take him to stay at a hotel, so you don’t have to leave your house.”
“No, it’s okay. He’s comfortable here, and you guys are used to this place. Better to stay here until you get things figured out and find something.”
“I hate that you are leaving your own house. You could stay, and I could sleep in the other room.”
She shook her head sadly. “I think it will just confuse things.” For a few moments, the two of us stared at one another, and I wanted to pull her into my arms and beg her to stay, but I didn’t. I carried her suitcase out to her vehicle and put it in.
Harley and I stood near the front door and waved at her as she drove away. I wasn’t sure who was sadder, him or me.
* * *
Two weeks later, the tavern was mine. Well, mine and Candy’s and Laney’s. The restructuring work was to begin the next day, and the construction on the building would start once that was finished.
Harley was doing well, and he had a babysitter that also homeschooled four other children. It was small enough to be comfortable for him but big enough to give him more experience. I now worked more days than nights, and Monica and Taylor, a new hire, managed the tavern when I wasn’t around. It made it easier for me to be home with Harley at night.
I didn’t see Candy until we signed the papers, although we had texted and talked several times a day. It was always about Harley or business, and neither of us spoke about our feelings.
Every night I wondered what she was thinking, and several times I had stood at her bedroom door, wishing she was lying there so that I could watch her sleep. I missed her and knew without a doubt what I felt for her.
We had a celebration dinner planned for later tonight, but first, I had one other meeting to attend. True to Laney’s word, she had put my request for expungement in front of a county judge, and today was my interview with him.
I was a nervous wreck as I stepped through the courthouse doors. I had even splurged for a suit, and even though I knew I looked nice, I felt weird dressed in it. I took the elevator up to the fourth floor and found the judge’s chambers. Stepping into the outer office, I nervously wiped my hands down the sides of my pants.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked.
“Um, yeah. My name is Michael Bollard. I have an appointment with Judge Sherman.”
“Have a seat. He’s on the phone. I’ll tell him you are here as soon as he's off.”
I nodded and went to wait in a comfortable leather chair. Five minutes later, she lifted her head from her desk, smiled, and said, “You can go in now, Mr. Bollard.”
I felt slightly off after the smile she had given me. Perhaps the suit I wore made me look respectable, but I couldn’t ever recall someone looking at me the way she had, with respect and admiration. I stepped slowly into the judge’s chambers.
He peered up from the papers on his desk, his blue eyes surprising with the dark-brown hair. His gaze zipped down to my knees, and he returned his attention to the desk before standing and holding out his hand. “Mr. Bollard, I’m Judge Sherman.”
I shook his hand, and then he told me to have a seat. I unbuttoned my suit coat and sat nervously across from him. He messed with things on his desk for about a minute, and I looked around his room. Behind him was a large cross, and beneath it sat a Bible with colorful tabs on the side.
He lifted his eyes and studied me carefully. “I have reviewed your file, Mr. Bollard. I am very aware of the club that you were part of. In fact, I put several of them behind bars for a very long time.”
“I am aware of that, sir.”
“How did you keep your nose clean enough that you didn’t get caught up in the roundup?”
I swallowed. “I guess God was watching out for me, sir. I know that I spent almost half of my life with the club, but I didn’t do the same things that many of them did. That’s not to say I didn’t do things wrong. I did, and I will admit that to you here.”
