The Rancher's Prospect (25 page)

“Community service?” Her lawyer finally spoke up. “That's completely unfair, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Goodman, your client can gladly turn down the plea and go to trial. I won't repeat what I said before about a possible fine and jail time. I think she understands.”

Callie went numb. Why was she being punished and Andrew came out the winner?

“May I have a moment with my client?” Harvey asked.

“A moment,” the judge said. “I have other cases pending.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Harvey turned to Callie and lowered his voice. “I'm recommending you take the deal.”

“What!” She whispered but several heads turned in her direction. “I can't take the deal. I'm not guilty.”

“If you don't, then you could end up in jail. You know he's going to get the other woman to testify against you.”

“Will this go on my record if I accept the plea?” She'd made a name for herself in the financial world. This could ruin her career.

“I'll ask for it to be expunged after you complete your therapy and community service,” Harvey said.

Community service.
You've got to be kidding.
She pictured herself in a reflective vest as she picked up trash along I-270 on a hot July day.

“I can probably get your community service limited to some pro bono tax returns for struggling businesses,” Harvey told her.

That didn't sound so bad. And she could probably handle a few sessions with a shrink. Heaven knew she had enough childhood stuff to fill a few hours.

“Okay,” she finally said. “As long as it all gets expunged when I'm done.”

Harvey addressed the judge. “There are two conditions we'd like to attend to, Your Honor. The matter of expunging Ms. James's record and some kind of proof of the value of the vase.”

Nice touch, Harvey
. Paying for half wouldn't be a financial burden for Callie, but the principal of paying for it definitely irked her.

The judge made notes. “Those conditions are acceptable.” Then she turned to Andrew. “Mr. Slater, can you provide the court with a proper document?”

“I'd be happy to do that, Your Honor.”

Callie was tempted to wipe that smirk off his face but instead breathed in and out, in and out.

The judge turned to the clerk. “Have both parties sign the appropriate documents.” She banged her gavel. “The court is in recess for fifteen minutes.”

Everyone stood until the judge exited the courtroom through her private door. Loath to speak to Andrew ever again, Callie whispered to Harvey, “Get me out of here.”

“Callie!” Andrew came up behind her as she hurried down the courthouse hallway.

She slowed her pace but didn't stop completely. “What?”

Andrew hesitated a few seconds before blurting out, “I want my key back.”

Of course he did
. She stopped, dug through her hobo bag and struggled to remove his key from her ring. Instead of throwing it at him like she wanted to, she very smoothly held it out to him.

He tossed it a few inches in the air and caught it, his pleasure at her expense almost more than she could bear. “You know I only want the best for you.”

She stared at him, curious why he felt the need to say anything to her.

“That's why I suggested the judge add therapy to the plea.”

He'd suggested it? Then she was right about them all being in cahoots. She kept her tone neutral. “So you think I need to control my anger?”

He shook his head. “No, I think you need to start expressing your feelings.” He looked down the hall to where his bed partner waited and then back at Callie. “You're a wonderful person, Callie, but you're as emotionally reserved as a rock.”

* * *

S
EVERAL
WEEKS
AND
anger management therapy sessions later, Callie's therapist harrumphed and scratched his head. Nearly halfway into today's session and he was clearly frustrated. Callie suspected he was trying to bring out some anger in her, or at least some kind of emotion. In her defense, she'd spent years bottling up those emotions and she wasn't sure she knew how to unleash them. Or wanted to.

Dr. Hammond seemed perfectly nice. He was a middle-aged man of average height, average weight and above-average intelligence as far as Callie could judge. Just not the person with whom she was comfortable sharing her innermost thoughts.

“Let's get back to your mother,” Dr. Hammond said in his monotone voice. “She died when you were very young?”

“Yes.” A pink bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers constituted her faint memory of the woman who'd died when Callie was three. She didn't even remember her face, forced to consult one of the few faded pictures she'd held on to.

“Were you upset when she died?”

“Of course I was upset,” she said evenly. “Who wouldn't be? I was young and had no mother.” Callie's pulse sped up, so she took control of her breathing. In and out. In and out. “But I couldn't do anything about it and it wasn't her fault that she was killed.”

“Are you still angry?”

Callie's brow furrowed. Her mother had been gone twenty-six years. She missed her or, more specifically, she missed having a mother figure. She didn't know what it was like to have a mother to turn to in tough times. Like when she'd caught Andrew cheating.

She spoke calmly. “Car jacking is a horrific act of violence, but I don't dwell on it.”

“Are you close to your father?” Dr. Hammond shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other.

“No.”

“When was the last time you two spoke?”

Callie did the math in her head. “About eleven years ago.”

Dr. Hammond's eyebrows rose. “That's a long time.” When Callie didn't comment further, he asked, “What was the circumstance that led to your loss of communication?”

Callie nearly smiled at Dr. Hammond's formal turn of phrase rather than simply asking why she'd shut her father out of her life. “I left for college.”

“I see.”

No, he probably didn't, but Callie couldn't disclose her personal demons to this stranger, no matter how soothingly he spoke.

“Did you and your father have an altercation?”

“No.”

“Would you like to rekindle a relationship with him?”

She hadn't even considered it. “That's not an option.”

Dr. Hammond cocked his head and asked, “Did he molest you?”

Callie's eyes widened and she straightened in her chair. “No, of course not. He'd never do that.” Her father was the sweetest man she'd ever known. Maybe too sweet, blinding him to the deceit surrounding him.

Dr. Hammond watched Callie through narrowed eyes and finally nodded as he made notes in his file. “Let's move on to your stepmother,” Dr. Hammond suggested.

Let's not.
“What about her?”
Breathe deeply. In and out.

“How old were you when she came into your life?”

Callie's stomach churned. “She was my mother's friend, her maid of honor when my parents married.”

Dr. Hammond made another note. “How would you characterize your relationship?”

Callie couldn't do this. She couldn't discuss her stepmother. “She's my father's wife.” She took a halting breath. “Can't we talk about something else?”

Dr. Hammond was silent for several minutes. “Callie, I'm at a loss here. The court sent you to me, but I can't help you if you insist on burying your emotions. You need to open up.”

Callie didn't know what to say. She'd spent most of her life keeping her thoughts and emotions to herself. Any anger burning her insides remained unspoken. That's what kept her out of trouble.

Until recently.

Most people would have screamed and yelled at Andrew and the woman on top of him, but Callie didn't operate like that. She'd learned early on to curb her temper, no matter how unfair the circumstances. After that, only once had she ever lost complete control of her temper. It was a slipup as a teenager and she was lucky it hadn't ruined the rest of her life.

“I don't know what you want me to say. Nothing in my past has anything to do with me finding my boyfriend in bed with another woman.” She fisted and relaxed her hands several times. “It didn't make me lose my temper and break an expensive vase. Though I almost wish I had so at least I'd be paying for something I actually did.”

The more she'd thought about it since court, the more she was positive she couldn't have broken Andrew's vase. The ugly thing always sat on a shelf right outside his kitchen, so she never even would have come near it as she ran out of his apartment. The only way she might have been responsible is if it had fallen when she'd slammed his apartment door as she'd left—but she wouldn't have slammed the door. That would have been a loss of control that was completely out of character for Callie.

“Our time is almost up for today.” Dr. Hammond leaned forward. “I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this, but I want you to go spend time with your father and stepmother.” When Callie opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand to stop her. “I want you to voice, face-to-face, whatever your feelings have been about them. Even if in the end you haven't settled things, at least you won't be carrying your hurt inside where it's obviously tearing you apart.”

This couldn't be happening. “Can't I just write letters to them, pour out my feelings, and then burn the letters or something?” She'd seen that on shows countless times and it always seemed to make the person feel better.

Not that she needed to feel better. She was just fine. Especially now that she was free of cheating Andrew and single again.

“I'm afraid not,” he said. “I've already made arrangements for you to continue your community service in Whittler's Creek.”

“But—”

“Our time is up.” Dr. Hammond repeated as he stood. “We'll continue therapy by phone while you're away. You can email my receptionist with the best time for you once you know your community service hours.”

Callie stood up, her mind a foggy mess. “What about my job?” How would she explain needing time off? How long would it take? A few days? A week? Longer?

Breathe. In and out. Slower. In...out.

Dr. Hammond put a hand on her elbow to show her out. “I'm sure they'll allow you to take a sabbatical once you explain.” He handed her another piece of paper. A formal letter on his personal stationery. “Use this if necessary.” He handed her another sheet of paper. “And here's where you report for community service at 8:00 a.m. Monday.”

She glanced at the information. Office of the Chief of Police, Whittler's Creek, Maryland. Great. What were the chances this small-town law enforcer was someone who didn't know her or about her past?

Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Dyson

ISBN-13: 9781488006845

The Rancher's Prospect

Copyright © 2016 by Callie Endicott

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