When Men Betray (48 page)

Beth ordered me to take a nap. I didn't want to admit it, but I was exhausted. The prospect of cracking the window, listening to the breeze, and sleeping for a while sounded really good. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I woke to the sounds of laughter and conversation. Helen and Marshall had arrived and were trading stories with Clovis. I walked carefully into the kitchen where Maggie and Walter were unpacking a case of wine he had purchased at the local wine store. He told me he had been pleasantly surprised at the prices, and the owner had bragged
that he'd recently sold two bottles of Chateau Margaux. The three of us shared a smile over that.

Sam arrived, and we congregated around the fire. Sam told me that Brenda's Houston-based lawyer was adamant that Brenda had nothing to do with the shooting and in fact claimed that if she hadn't
accidentally
dropped her napkin
she
would've been the victim. The shooter was wanted internationally, in several countries, as well as by Interpol for murder and other crimes. He had also had managed to get a lawyer from Houston and refused to talk. The FBI was negotiating with several governments about which one would get to try him first. There was no doubt that someone had spent a pretty penny trying to eliminate me. I was the man's first known failed assassination—a distinction I was happy to have.

Sam thought it was only a matter of time before Justice heard from the law firm representing McAlvin. I didn't want to pour cold water on the party, but as Peggy had told the judge, the Justice Department grinds slowly. My bet was that it would be years before anyone was actually indicted. I wondered if McAlvin and his buddies would try to escape to Brazil or stay in the States and spend their millions on lawyers.

We all engaged in meaningless reminiscing until Clovis and Jeff left to grill the steaks and Beth questioned Helen about the four of us being good boys in school.

Helen looked to heaven and said, “Hardly.” She told Beth how we'd get in late and crash at her house, even when Woody was out of town. She got a little misty as she recounted the times she'd made peace when we'd argued, how she'd had to cover for us with our parents, and the days she'd have to pick us up off the floor after some girl had dumped one of us.

“Didn't you ever get in trouble?” Beth asked me.

“Beth, I could spend a month telling you stories about the trouble we got into. The petty fights we had among ourselves … near misses we had with the law. There's the time we tried to sneak into the drive-in because we only had enough money to buy a case of beer and one movie ticket. Sam and Woody got in the trunk, and I slammed it shut only to discover the keys were still in Woody's pants. Or the time Marshall tried to cross a stream in his girlfriend's car, only to get stuck
and have to watch it flood up to the seats. Oh, and the time Sam agonized for weeks about asking this one girl out on a date. While Sam dithered, Woody asked her out and ended up dating her for months. I thought Sam would never get over it. We'd go weeks without talking to one or the other over some petty nonsense, but we always reconnected, and usually, nobody apologized.”

Beth made a dismissive gesture. “That's not exactly hard crime you're talking about. To me, you all sound too good to be true.”

I laughed. “I'm sure over time your memory eliminates the negatives about the people you care about. You say they sound too good to be true—the truth is, my memory has become selective, and to paraphrase my favorite Grisham movie,
The Pelican Brief
, ‘they almost are.'”

Laughing, Marshall and Sam filled in the details of the stories I'd told Beth and told a few of their own. As I listened, I realized what I had denied my daughter by leaving Little Rock for good: the chance to get a picture of her father from the perspective of others. I knew it was long past time to stop protecting her.

Dinner was unbelievably good. No matter how expensive a restaurant steak may be, a steak grilled at home on a Weber, marinated just right, is the best. Clovis was a master of the art. He refused to give us his secret, but Jeff claimed to have watched every step.

Clovis replied predictably, “Watchin' ain't the same as grillin'.”

I was trying to figure out how to bring up the story I needed to tell when, as we were getting up from the table, Beth said, “Okay Dad, after we clean up, can you tell me about what happened here in Little Rock? Why you and Mom left and never came back?”

Before I could respond, she said, “It's my last night here, and you promised. And please, no preliminary caveats about attorney-client privileges or work-product.”

That got a big laugh from everyone.

Beth gave me a careful hug and whispered, “Let's get whatever this is behind us.”

We all got comfortable around the fireplace. I was glad to see that Jeff had a firm arm around Beth. I was gathering my courage when Helen looked me in the eye and said it was okay to talk about Woody's role in what had happened. She'd known some of it at the time, but I had a feeling that Woody had told her more before
he went into federal custody. She told me not to hold back on her account. I marveled again at her strength. Marshall and Sam said they'd fill in if I needed help.

“Most of you know the story by now—you know what happened. The one person who's missing is Angie. She made me promise to tell you what happened, Beth, but it never seemed to be the right time. I've learned this week that waiting for the right time is just a delay tactic. My only caveat—no, this one's okay—is that these events happened over twenty-five years ago when we were in college, about the same age as you and Jeff are now. Angie used to remind me that it's wrong to judge people of the past by today's standards. We are all people of our times.”

I then told her essentially the same story I'd told Micki and Maggie the other night. Despite having told it then, I had to stop more than once to let Sam or Marshall take over. They were also able to fill in some details I hadn't remembered. It was tough. When Beth cried, I did too, but I got through it to the point where, once again Micki said, “I can't believe those bastards weren't charged.”

“Well, Micki, for better or worse, they never were. And what good would it have done in the long run? Anyway, here's what did happen. While I was undergoing multiple surgeries, the power of Stafford State's supporters and coaches had switched into high gear. Today it would have been all over the news, ESPN, and
Sports Illustrated
, not to mention that the NCAA would have taken its own punitive action. But despite the police cars and multiple ambulances that had been dispatched that night, there wasn't even a report in the police blotter. A wall of silence was erected. Several football players, including the guy with the broken jaw and the massive guy I almost killed, were treated after a ‘hit-and-run accident' at Baylor Medical in Dallas. And every single football player had a phony alibi.

“My baseball coach, the only person other than my friends to visit me for the entire two weeks in the hospital, told me to keep quiet, that someone from the college would come see me soon. Of course, all my teammates knew what had happened, but the official word was that I'd been in a ‘climbing accident,' and wasn't allowed visitors.

“Sam and Marshall were called before the dean of students. The Dean had heard they'd been drinking a lot that night. The school
would hate to suspend them over a bar fight. Surely they didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize their graduation. Sam and Marshall wanted to get the truth out, but weren't sure what to do; none of us were.

“We all wanted to hear from Angie. We had to know how she felt about going public before we said anything. Sam, Marshall, and I would work ourselves up into a lather. Helen let us vent, but then she'd say what we already knew: Wait until we heard from Angie.

“Her parents eventually called me at Helen's. They told me Angie was still recovering and asked us to say nothing. I wasn't sure that was what Angie wanted, but what else could we do?

“Woody had come to see me in the hospital, but mostly held the door up, clearly uncomfortable. He kept apologizing, and I kept telling him to forget it. At the time I didn't know about Russell's involvement, so I had no idea why he felt so guilty. I hadn't expected him to step in and stop the fight—he couldn't have if he tried. Sam and Marshall told Woody the same thing, but he wouldn't let his guilt go. I think he found solace in Cheryl and marijuana. Sorry Helen.”

Her wry comment was, “He should have stuck to marijuana.”

“The hardest thing for me was being separated from Angie. I knew she was seeing therapists and getting better, but her father absolutely forbade her to talk to me. What neither of us knew at the time, was that an attorney representing the university had contacted her father. He had intimated that although what had happened was a tragedy, a full investigation would have to include digging into the possibility that Angie brought this on herself.”

Micki curled her lip. “You can't be serious. This is totally disgusting.”

I shrugged. “Times were different then. Laws were different. The attorney made it clear to Angie's dad that the lawyers for the ‘alleged participants' were prepared to examine her attraction to ‘jocks' and her ‘flirtatious nature.' Apparently, the university lawyer was blunter than I've been about what would happen to Angie if she decided to pursue a case against, in his words, the ‘fine young men who were seduced into alleged misbehavior.' The lawyer also suggested that Angie had to graduate to get into Georgetown Medical but had missed a lot of classes lately. She could graduate on time with the
honors she had earned, if only she could see her way clear to overlook this ‘alleged incident.'

“It took Angie a long time to forgive her father for giving in to this legal blackmail. But if I'd been her dad, I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same thing, especially back then. He was only trying to do what he thought was best for her.”

“You can't second-guess your decision either, Jack,” Helen spoke out strongly. “I was there when those bastards showed up. I heard every word. Look at you—you got Angie and you're a fine lawyer. All you left behind was a bunch of trash.”

“And some good friends.”

“You never really left us,” she said. “We all moved on, but the moment you heard one of us was in trouble, you came running. You only left the bad part. The good part's with you to this day.”

Marshall looked at me, “I had no idea they came to you as well. What happened?”

“Well, it was pretty much the same routine. The university counsel started in with that same nonsense they gave Angie's father—missing class, about to graduate, such a shame … the whole bit. They added, almost as an aside, that I could be charged with assault for attacking the guy who had ended up at Baylor hospital. It was a well-rehearsed performance, and he ended by saying he could see only one solution—I had to leave Little Rock immediately and keep quiet. I knew they'd destroy Angie if I didn't take their deal. I knew I'd never play pro ball anyway, so it was time to start over.”

I looked at my daughter. “Beth, I talked to everyone, but I knew what I should do the moment I woke up in the hospital. I had to find your mother and hold on to her for dear life. She's told you about me sleeping outside her parent's house for three days before they let me in. Now you know why your grandfather still doesn't like me very much, and why we never told you about Little Rock or brought you here. I realize now, that was a mistake.”

Beth came to me and we held each other for a long time. The pain in my chest seemed trivial as I hugged my daughter.

We grew silent, our mood somber. The evening had come to a natural end. Clovis shook my hand, his eyes moist. Marshall and I
hugged, and I promised I'd see him before I left. I did the same with Helen and Sam. Everyone spent a few minutes with Beth. I found myself alone by the fire. So much had happened in such a short time, and it had all begun so long ago. I thought about what I was afraid must be true: Russell had planned the whole thing. Woody had to have known all these years. Had that knowledge triggered his showdown with Russell? Regardless, the nightmare had run its course; no sense in bringing it back.

I made sure the fire would burn out safely, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed. A few minutes later Micki joined me. She kissed me sweetly and said, “Good night, Jack. Nobody should sleep alone tonight.”

W
HEN
I
WOKE
up, Micki was sound asleep. I wandered into the kitchen to find Clovis making coffee. Micki's office manager, Debbie Kotrova, had delivered a box of tempting pastries, and Clovis's coffee was pretty good, but we both missed Bea. He told me the therapist was coming to help me with exercises and the basics of living with a bandaged left side. Soon, everyone congregated in the kitchen, making plans to head out. Walter had gotten word that his plane had been gassed up and was ready to go. He and Maggie left with Beth and Jeff, and a couple of hours later, everyone except Clovis was gone. I found him reading the papers on the porch. I sat down by the morning fire with a fresh cup of coffee, thinking about all that had happened.