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I also came straight from church, and my stomach is growling like a grizzly, even as I press my folded arms against my abdomen, hoping he won’t hear.
My biggest concern is Jacob, and at the moment, something as basic as where he is.He insisted Reagan would drive him over after the service. Fine, but he better walk through that door any moment.Alone.
Shuffling papers it looks like Ben didn’t bother to straighten before cutting out at five on Friday, he apologizes for the mess, smiling. He’s about John’s age. Other than that, everything else about him is just…brighter. There is a sharp intensity about John in everything he does. Ben, on the other hand, walks with a spring in his step, moves with energy, and smiles liberally.
Why would he not? He has a beautiful wife, an adorable tween boy, and a pretty teen daughter. They’re all surfing their phones out in the waiting area, I’m sure as ready for lunch as the rest of us. I feel awful for running headlong into their Sunday routine.
“I’m sorry. Jacob should be here any moment.” I lift my phone and open a text window.
“Not a problem.”
But it will be in about five minutes. I can’t waste this kind man’s time.
“Mr. Wilson—”
“Ben.” He looks up with yet another smile.
“Ben. I appreciate you doing this for us. I’ve been saving some money, and I’d be happy to—”
He stops paper-shuffling and holds up a hand. “Not necessary.”
So I was told. “I don’t understand.” I pick at a loose sliver of skin around my fingernail, then catch myself and hold my hands tight.
He folds his hands on the desk. “Hollie—may I call you Hollie?”
“Please.”
He nods. “Hollie, this is what I do. No, not pro bono most of the time, but occasionally, and John is what? A twenty-year friend? Most of all, he stepped up once when I was the one in need. I won’t get into details, but the truth is, I have a third bundle of joy—my first, actually—and let’s just say, raising him was not as straightforward as with those two out there.” He inclines his head toward the open door.
Okay, that sort of explains things. Most of all, it makes my nosy mind wander and speculate. What role did John Chavez, DEA agent extraordinaire, play? I still argue that makes this John’s favor to claim, not mine, kind of like a this-offer-is-nontransferablekind of a deal.
But I am in no position to argue. On the nights I actually sleep, I wake up in cold sweats. I can’t go visit my son behind a set of bars. I just can’t.
My text goes unanswered. I tap my heel on the carpet until I feel as much as hear awhooshand a door rattle about two minutes later. A lady’s voice directs Jacob into the office.
“Close the door, would you, Jacob.” Standing, Ben addresses my son as if they already know each other. I’m proud when my son looks him the eye and I see a firm grip. Perhaps I’ve done something right after all.
Jacob’s eyes avoid me, though, a frequent occurrence these days.
Ben takes a moment to review the charges with us. It’s clear he’s prepped for this meeting.
Hearing the charges, including a second degree felony and not the third degree I was originally led to believe, further twists my insides into knots. Potential penaltiesbeginat two years of confinement and go up from there. Since this is Jacob’s first offense, he’s likely looking at the lighter end of the spectrum and maybe even a suspended sentence, although Ben informs us that the judge whose court Jacob’s lot has fallen to is known for his toughness.
Anything short of acquittal nauseates me. Better yet would be the dropping of all charges. A felony on my son’s record would be disastrous. I had my own burdens blocking my dreams and hindering my launch into adulthood. I pray Jacob is spared a similar fate.
Tears well up as I side-eye my precious son. A gift, not a burden.
“Hollie?”
“I’m sorry, what was that last part?”
Handing me a tissue, Ben offers a kind smile—then runs down what I assume he already said about the timeline for Jacob’s case. There will be a hearing a week from Tuesday, a preliminary thing he says will take five minutes and that the worst part will be waiting around for our turn.
Ben shifts his full attention to Jacob, more somber than he’s been yet. “Now, Jacob. I need you to tell me the entire story. I understand your claim is that the drugs were placed in your vehicle by a third party, without your knowledge. Is that correct?
I bristle at the reference to Jacob’sstory.It’s thetruth. But even I can see that Jacob needs someone tougher than I to make him take this seriously. Honestly, I don’t get where his head is anymore.
I don’t release my breath until Jacob gets to the part about Alex. I’ve worried he might revert to his original inclination to cover for Reagan’s brother.
