The Second Trial (14 page)

Catherine nodded.

“And try not to volunteer information. It's likely to just trip you up and cause you grief later on. You can also turn conversations to your advantage,” he coached. “For example, take the Lake Diefenbaker comment. Instead of floundering around and wondering what to say about it, ask her if she's ever been there or knows someone who goes there. If she says no, you'll be safe in making up a few things. If she says yes, then ask her about it – how did you like it? Where did you stay? What did you do? – and you'll learn some things for the next time you're asked.”

Catherine nodded again. Her face had taken on a gray, ashen look, as if she, too, were suddenly exhausted, overwhelmed by the rehearsal. She picked at her dessert while Anita reminded the twins it was bath time. The sun stretched their shadows and Catherine stood to say good-bye. Her shoulders sagged and she kept her distance from her hosts. The gap ensured there wouldn't be any embracing – only nods and concerned looks, thank-yous and take-care-of-yourselves, and good-byes.

But before they could leave, Sgt. Sandhu approached Danny. The next words fell from his lips like a verdict.

“You leave tomorrow.”

Chapter 21

Friday

Not a single thing in Danny's room had moved when his mom knocked on the door the next morning and said it was time to go to his grandparents'. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his thoughts tumbled together and he developed a plan.

I'll stay with Grandma and Grandpa. Mom can move away for
a while – and Jen too, if she wants. Then Dad'll get out of jail and he
won't go after Mom. In a couple of months Dad will have had time to
prove he can keep his promise and Mom will realize he isn't a threat.
Then Mom and Jen can move back – and I'll still be Daniel Paul
McMillan.

The new plan nudged him forward. He opened the door and went downstairs.

Three suitcases were lined up at the door. Four family photo albums lay in a pile beside a pillar of CDs and DVDs. Jennifer sat on the floor beside a pillowcase bulging with stuffed animals, twiddling her hair around and around her finger.

Danny called Buddy and quickly maneuvered out the door.

It was a beautiful summer morning on Grandma and Grandpa's street. The neighbors paused from weeding gardens to give them a cheery wave. Danny pulled his mouth tight, dropped his eyes, and headed inside.

The table was set for brunch. Grandma was at the stove, flipping pancakes.

“Hi Danny. Grandpa's out back, would you tell him we'll be ready in ten minutes?”

“Hi Grandma,” he replied. He took a breath and his new plan helped him settle his stomach butterflies.

Grandpa stood out back. He clenched a red spool the size of a basketball hoop in one hand, and with the other he was teasing apart the strings tethering the wings of his freestyle kite.

“Danny!” Grandpa said. “Don't let the dog over here or I'll never get these strings straightened out!” Buddy was just brushing past Danny's legs.

“Buddy!” Danny called as he reached to grab the dog's collar.

No collar.

Buddy loped up to Grandpa. He rubbed his body against Grandpa's legs, his tail slapping at the kite strings.

“Buddy! Sit! Lie down!” Grandpa commanded. Buddy did his best and eventually sat, but not before hopelessly tangling the strings.

Grandpa gazed at Buddy and then over at Danny. “I was hoping we could go together and fly the kite until brunch is ready, but it seems Buddy had other plans for us.”

“Buddy, get over here,” Danny scolded. Kite-flying would have been the perfect time to talk to Grandpa about his new scheme.

“It's okay,” Grandpa said, untangling the dog and shifting the disabled kite onto the picnic table. “There probably wouldn't be enough time, anyway.” He smiled thinly. “Why don't you put some food and water out for Buddy while I wash up.”

Danny retrieved dog food from the garage, filled the dishes, and made sure both gates were securely closed before he went in. He didn't need Buddy deciding to chase down a squirrel, especially when the dog had no collar or ID tags.

They took their usual places at the table. Danny inhaled deeply and tried to set aside his worry about his planned talk with Grandpa.

For the first few minutes, the warm food was comforting. Light conversation centered on the meal. “Please pass the eggs.” “Is there more toast?” “Anyone for more pancakes?” But lifting his eyes from the plate was like popping the cap off a bottle of soda water – the calm water wasn't calm anymore.

Mom's eye twitched.

Jennifer twirled her hair.

Grandma and Grandpa pushed cold food around their plates.

The butterflies started again.

Grandpa coughed into his napkin and dropped it on his nearly-full plate. “Let's just leave the dishes for later,” he said. “Maybe we could go to the living room.”

One by one, the others quit the table and moved toward the doorway. Danny remained seated. The butterflies swooped.

“Wait!” he called. “Grandpa, can I talk to you outside?”

Grandpa stopped and turned around. “Sure. Let's go out back.”

Grandpa left room on the park bench for Danny. Buddy picked up his Frisbee and charged over, but Grandpa said, “Not now, Buddy-boy, come lie down.”

Danny sat beside Grandpa. He leaned forward to scratch Buddy's head as he laid out his new plan.

Grandpa didn't interrupt. When Danny had finished, Grandpa looked away and was silent for a long while. When he finally turned to face his grandson, Danny saw the dark circles below his eyes.

Looking directly into his grandson's eyes, Grandpa said, “I'm sorry. It – it can't be that way.” He paused, swallowed, and strained to say the next words. “You wouldn't be safe.”

Danny pressed himself into the bench, anger narrowing his eyes, his voice flatly defiant. “I don't believe you.”

“If there were any way to change the past, I would. Your mother would. Sgt. Sandhu would. Everyone would. We'd go back to when – to the time when your dad started cutting us off from your family. I'd…I'd insist, I'd persist, I'd find out what was wrong and I'd stop it.” He blinked rapidly. “But I didn't do that and now, I can't.”

He turned away and made a show of scratching his eyebrows, but Danny could see he was wiping away tears.

“Your family slid away from us years ago, when your dad – did what he did. Since Christmas, Grandma and I have had you back in our lives. Having you with us has filled a hole in our hearts. Do you think we'd tear that hole open again if we believed there was any other way?” He swallowed.

“Then why can't she just go alone?” Danny demanded. “Why do I – why do I have to change
my
identity? What have
I
done wrong?”

Grandpa reached to hold Danny's arms, but the boy pulled back. “It's
because
of you – you and your sister – that your mom has to do this. If it were only her, she could stay and take her chances.” He took a breath and gathered himself. “But she can't risk leaving you kids without a mother. And she can't risk
your
lives along with hers.”

Danny's heartbeat throbbed at the back of his throat. “But – but – he said he loved her! I was there! You weren't! I heard him say it! The judge said he should have counseling!”

Grandpa no longer tried to stop his tears.

“Your dad doesn't love your mom the way…the way your mom loves you. He loves her like – like a miser loves money. He loves to control her, to possess her, to have power over her. And if he thinks he's going to lose that power and control…well, he'd rather kill her than let her go free. And that's not love.”

Danny felt like he was plunging down a cliff in freefall. He lurched up and bolted blindly for the back gate. Buddy followed closely.

He sleepwalked through streets he'd walked a hundred times before, but today they had shifted orientation, their names had vanished, and the map lines rearranged to go nowhere. He lifted his arm and wiped his shirtsleeve across his face, forced his fists back into his pockets, and put one foot in front of the other. Buddy stayed close.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he found himself back at his grandparents' gate. He hadn't thought about where he was going, but Buddy's gentle nudging had returned him to the house. The dog sat patiently and waited for him to lift the latch. Danny hesitated before walking through.

Rather than entering the back, he walked around to the front. Staying out of sight, he peered through the picture window. All four were sitting in the living room, Mom beside Grandma, and Jennifer on Grandpa's knee. They were talking, but Danny couldn't make out the words.

He went around back, took a deep breath, and entered.

The conversation stopped. He stood in the doorway. On closer view, the scene from the street – a family chatting on a Friday morning – had shifted focus, and he now saw discarded tissues and faces as raw as if frostbitten. Grandma stood up quickly and whispered, “I'll call the taxi.”

The grandfather clock made the only sound in the room with its relentless
ticktock, ticktock –
each swing of the pendulum sweeping the present into the past.

Grandma returned. “It'll only be a couple of minutes. They have a cab in the neighborhood. They know about Buddy….”

Ticktock…ticktock…ticktock…ticktock…

Grandpa stood and strode over to Catherine, his arms wide, enveloping his daughter. She stood to sink her head into his shoulder, sobs pouring out freely, a lifetime of grief threatening to drown them all. Tears pulsed down Jennifer's face and Grandma held her tightly, stroking her granddaughter's hair, wetting it with her own tears, murmuring sounds that weren't words, because there were no words left.

“No long good-byes, Catherine,” Grandpa said as he kissed her forehead and gently pushed her shoulders away. “You have to be strong, and take care of your children.” He held her at arm's length, his grip on her shoulders firm. “Promise me you'll take care of your children.”

Danny watched hollowly as Grandma and Grandpa switched places. Grandma embraced her daughter while Grandpa absorbed his granddaughter's anguish into his own. Danny felt like his feet had come to the end of the world. His legs, his arms, his head – everything was too heavy to move. He watched Grandma, Mom, Jennifer, and Grandpa mesh together in a tangle of grief.

The clock stopped ticking. Grandma left Catherine and approached him. She pulled his numb body into her own and urged his arms around her.

“Danny,” she whispered into his ear, “when things are tough, look up to the stars and remember those same stars shine down on all of us, and we'll love you for as long as those stars shine in the sky. Although you can't touch
them
, their light can touch
you
and remind you there is no end to our love for you, no end to your mother's love for you. Tomorrow it may seem that all the world has changed, but love endures like the stars. Be strong. And live the best life you can live.”

He blinked unseeing eyes. Grandpa touched Grandma on the shoulder, and said softly, “Patricia, the cab is here, can you help them out?”

Grandma gave Danny a last, close squeeze and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Good-bye, Danny,” she said, pulling away.

Grandpa stood in front of Danny and reached one hand to touch his grandson's shoulder while the other searched for something in his pocket. He pulled out the small white stone Danny had thrown into the thorn bushes. He offered it on an open palm.

“Take this with you, Danny-boy. Keep it with you, and hold it when you need help. Stones are strong, and they can help you be strong too. Use it when you need to, and when you're ready, you can let it go.”

Danny reached out. Grandpa put the stone into Danny's palm, curling the boy's fingers around it. He held Danny's fist tightly in both hands and then pulled his grandson to him and hugged him close. “No long good-byes, Danny, no long good-byes.”

Grandpa let him go. “It's time,” he said softly.

PART TWO
The Second Trial

Chapter 1

“It's number twenty-one,” said Sgt. Sandhu, handing Catherine two keys. Danny's face fell when he saw the place they were going to call home – a line of sad-looking row houses on the border of a strip mall parking lot. Peeling window trim outlined mismatched curtains and draped bed sheets. A patch of lawn too small to park a car separated one sidewalk from the next. A few adults lounged on steps and in webbed lawn chairs, smoking or watching children tear around on bicycles and skateboards. They stared at the new family moving in.

Number twenty-one was squeezed into the middle of the row. Someone had torn out a strip of grass under the window for a flower bed, but only crab grass and thorns grew there. A tabby cat, missing one ear, squatted under the steps.