During my trial, Seth showed up to almost every hearing. I was pleased by his unexpected support as much as I was confused by it. It was quiet, but it was there … always on the left side of the back row. It made Caleb happy that he came. Their relationship had always been strained. I expected the chasm was forged by Luca’s obvious favoritism of her youngest son.
“He must really like you, Red,” Caleb said, after a grueling day of listening to the Prosecution question their witnesses. “No one can get him to show up to anything, but for you, he’s here.”
“He’s a Sergeant in the Police force, Caleb. I’m sure this sort of thing interests him.”
I really wondered if he was playing his own jury, trying to decide if I was as wicked as he was always insinuating I was. It was exhausting trying to hide yourself from everyone. Watching them, watch you. Wanting to know everyone’s thoughts and deathly afraid that those very thoughts were condemning you. I was so angry with the man I had called my father for my whole life. I constantly found myself wondering what would have happened had he not died. Would he have scrounged up enough decency to protect me from this? Or would he have asked me to take the fall for him? And most importantly: would I have done it?
Seth asked me that very question the day I called him, after Caleb left me. He stopped by after work with a box of French pastries in his hand. He knew I liked them. I took them from him smiling, and he followed me into the kitchen.
“Where’s my brother staying?” he asked.
“His condo.” I opened the box and took out an almond croissant. Seth watched me bite into it before speaking.
“That father of yours was something else.”
My chewing stilled.
“According to that hot little attorney of yours, he completely framed you. Is she right?”
I wasn’t sure whether I was more offended that he’d called Olivia “hot” or that he was questioning my innocence.
I forced myself to swallow what was in my mouth and glared at him. “He didn’t do it on purpose,” I said. “I don’t exactly think he expected to die.”
“So, if he hadn’t had a heart attack and conveniently left you with this mess, you think he’d be taking the fall for this?”
“Yes, I do.”
It was a lie.
“According to Caleb, his signature wasn’t on any of the documents you signed.”
“What’s your point, Seth?” I snapped. “Did you come here to goad me?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, Leah. I came to see if you were all right. Truly.”
“I’m fine.” I slammed the lid to the pastry box closed and walked toward the fridge. I could feel him behind me before I turned around. The suddenness of my turn caused him to slam into me. He didn’t pull back. He kissed me. Right on the mouth.
“Seth!” I shoved him away. He stumbled back a step. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You called me,” he said. “I thought…”
“You thought what? That I wanted you to kiss me? I called you because Caleb left me, and I don’t know what to do! You didn’t have to come over here and take advantage of me.”
He kissed me again. Harder this time. I responded a little before I pushed him away.
“Get out,” I said, pointing to the door.
I cried after he left. How long had it been since Caleb kissed me? I tried to remember. Was it before the trial started? I think about all the months of preparation and can’t pull up a single memory of being kissed. How had I missed that? How had Seth’s abrupt kiss made me remember?
Chapter Thirty Five
Present
A few days after Cash’s phone call, we pull up to a tan stucco building around one o’clock. Sam jumps out first and has Estella out of the car before I’ve even checked my makeup. My hands are shaking when I open my door. We meet in front of the car.
“You okay?” Sam asks.
I nod without looking at him. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the building. I wish I hadn’t worn heels. Sometimes, they make me feel confident, but today they make me feel pretentious. We walk in silence, or as much silence as my heels will allow.
At the front desk I give my name: Johanna Smith. I see Sam quirk his eyebrow. I don’t look at him. God, I hate that name. I only told Sam we were coming to see my sister, not where she was. We are led down a long hallway that smells of antiseptic. I glance over at the baby, wondering if the smell will bother her. She is asleep. Such a good sleeper. I smile.
We are taken to the very last room. I stop in the doorway, and Sam places a hand on my shoulder. I suddenly feel very sick. He nudges me. He’s so damn pushy.
I walk through. She is sitting in a wheelchair facing the window. Bright sunlight streams onto her face. She seems impervious to it, staring straight ahead, not really seeing anything. I walk to her slowly and crouch down in front of her.
“Court,” I take her hands. They are limp and cold. “Court, it’s me.” She stares past me. I look around the room — a bed, a television, two chairs. There are no personal touches; no flowers or pictures on the walls just like the rooms we passed on our way here. I look back at Courtney.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come before now,” I say. “I brought Estella to see you.”
Sam, who has already taken her from her car seat, hands her to me. She holds her neck stiff as I take her, her large eyes looking around with innocent curiosity. I place her in Courtney’s lap and hold her there. My sister doesn’t move, doesn’t blink and doesn’t register the tiny presence pressed against her body. Estella fusses after a few seconds, so I take her and hold her.
My sister’s hair is greasy and limp. It is too short to tie back and hangs in her face. I reach up and push it behind her ears. I hate this. I hate this place, and I hate that my sister is here. I hate myself for not coming to see her sooner. She doesn’t belong here. I make my decision right then and there.
“Sam,” I say, standing up, “I want to bring her home … to my home. I can have someone come in to help.”
“Okay,” he says. “Are you clearing this with me or...” He shakes his head, and I want to slap him for the tenth time today.
“I’m just telling you, idiot.”
He grins.
“Courtney, I’m going to bring you home. Just give me a few days, okay … to get everything ready.”
I touch her face lightly. Beautiful, vibrant Courtney, I can see her in this person’s features, the high forehead and aquiline nose. But her eyes are lifeless. I reach around the back of her head and press my lips against her forehead. I can feel the scar beneath my fingertips, thick and hard. I swallow a sob and straighten up. Estella clings to my shirt, her little fists grabbing the material tightly. I march out without looking back, my heels clipping with new purpose.
Sam waits with Estella while I speak with the director of the facility. When we leave, I have a handful of pamphlets for in-home care.
We are back in the car when he speaks for the first time since leaving Courtney’s room.
“So … Johanna?”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“It’s a valid question, your majesty. If you don’t tell me why you hate it, I’m going to call you Johanna from now on.”