WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10
The words and images of the last hour rolled over Chandler in a kaleidoscope of pain and anger. Now he understood the odd vibe he’d felt from Jaime—and why Daniels, McCarthy & Associates had asked her to consult in Tiffany’s case. He sat bolted in place as Dane Nichols exchanged angry words with his attorney and then strode from the room. The man was clearly upset, but not as volcanic as Chandler felt. What he wouldn’t give to have ten minutes alone with the general wannabe.
That man represented everything that was wrong with the current military. If what Jaime said was true. As he’d watched her testify, he couldn’t doubt the horror was real.
How hard had it been for her to sit and listen to Tiffany’s story Monday?
He studied this woman he was beginning to care about and acknowledged a deep-seated need to do something to help. The question was what. The image of Tiffany with Aslan flashed through his mind. If his dog has been such a help to the little girl, could he play a similar role with Jaime? Seemed reasonable, except she seemed determined to push the animal away.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tugged it out.
Can Aslan come over?
The number was Madeline Ange’s, but the accompanying emoji made him suspect Tiffany had grabbed her mom’s phone. He’d confirm as soon as he left the court . . . but shouldn’t the girl be in school? Maybe he’d need to use a few vacation days to help her. It would make HR happy to have them used.
Jaime eased toward him, looking tentative, and he schooled his features to the neutral expression he would use with a client. A strand of hair had fallen in her face, begging for him to reach out and move it. One glance at her father, who looked ready to break someone in two with his bare fists, was enough to squelch that instinct.
“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded hurt—not what he’d expected.
“I didn’t want you to be alone, whatever it was you were facing.”
“I wasn’t.” She gestured toward her parents, who were looking between them.
The mother, an older version of Jaime, stepped forward. “I’m Joann, and this is my husband, Bill. You are?”
“Chandler Bolton.” He opened his mouth to say more, but Jaime spoke over him.
“His dog tried to kill Simba.”
“Oh.” A frown spread across the woman’s face. “Why did you come today?”
“Because he doesn’t know when he’s not wanted.” There was so much hurt in Jaime’s voice he regretted his ill-conceived idea to attend.
“I didn’t know exactly what this was for. I just knew Jaime was stressed and shouldn’t be alone.” He swallowed. “No one should be alone at a time like this.”
The bailiff approached them with a frown. “Y’all will have to leave. There’s another hearing scheduled.”
“Thank you.” Jaime led the way into the hallway. She looked as though she had more to say, but Chandler pulled out his phone.
“If you’ll excuse me a minute, I received a text while in there that I need to follow up.”
That would give them a moment to collect themselves. There was so much tension in Jaime’s parents; the guilt rolled off them in waves.
Maybe she needed a distraction. Maybe helping Tiffany would give Jaime a sense of empowerment and purpose that she needed after such a gut-wrenching experience as the hearing. When he’d finished texting a quick message back to Madeline and Tiffany about needing to check his schedule before committing, Jaime was still talking with her parents.
He tapped her shoulder, and she jumped. “Sorry about that. Tiffany wants to see Aslan, and I wondered if you’d like to come.”
“Why?”
“Because Tiffany needs someone who understands.”
Chandler’s words from the courthouse rang in Jaime’s ears as she parked her car where he had suggested.
Oh, she hated that he thought he knew her story. There was so much she hadn’t said on the stand. And why had he asked for her help? Did he think she didn’t know exactly what he was doing? She wasn’t one of his clients.
The sun broke through the clouds and added a hint of warmth to the afternoon as Jaime walked toward the park. She wanted to turn her face to the sky and let it warm her to her core, but nothing could do that.
In the distance she spotted Aslan waiting next to a bench. She blew out a breath. God, if You’re real, I could use some help so I can reach this little girl. I don’t want her to feel alone like I did. Like she still did.
The quick prayer froze her.
She could not believe in a God who had allowed such evil to happen to a child.
She could not.
She closed her eyes as if to block the thoughts, and when she opened them she saw Tiffany curled up next to Aslan. Madeline huddled a short distance away, observing everything. Chandler was nowhere in sight.
“Thanks for coming.” Madeline’s teeth chattered.
“Today was a good day for it.” Jaime kept her gaze on Tiffany and Aslan. The dog stood patiently, leaning slightly into the girl’s leg.
“It is a great day to be at the park.” Madeline nodded toward her daughter. “Aslan works magic on Tiffany. I’d buy him if I could, but Chandler won’t let me.”
“I’m sure Chandler doesn’t want to sell his friend.” The two had a relationship that seemed even tighter than the one she shared with Simba.
“You can’t blame a desperate mother for asking.” Madeline brushed her blond hair behind her ears. “It’s hard to be everything Tiffany needs. I’ll have to get back to work soon, and that’s not possible when she remains this worked up.”
“She has reason.” Jaime remembered all too well the fear that had followed her each time her mother left the room, let alone dropped her somewhere. “Has the prosecutor located her abuser?”
Madeline grunted. “Nothing about this process has been what I would have expected. The police and prosecutors are kind, but there is so little they can do. My former boyfriend is walking around somewhere, and I can’t promise Tiffany she’s safe.” She wiped her eyes. “If I’d never met the man, she’d still be innocent. This has confirmed the terrible instincts I have regarding men.”
“You have to focus on doing exactly what she needs to find wholeness.” Jaime edged forward, and Aslan turned his ears as if listening to her progress. He was attuned to her as she inched nearer. “Hi, Tiffany. I’m Jaime Nichols, a friend of your mom’s and Aslan’s.”
The young girl turned to her with a solemn expression and old eyes. “Hello, Ms. Jaime.”
“What are you and Aslan doing?”
“Sitting.”
“Does he like it?”
“He likes me, so he does what I want to do.”
Jaime eased onto the ground next to the girl, leaves crunching beneath her as she sank to the cold earth. “It must be nice to have someone who likes you because you’re you.”
“Do you?” The question was matched with the gaze of a girl who’d seen too much.
“Yes.” Jaime clasped her hands on her knees. “I know how important that is. When I was your age, a man wasn’t nice to me either. He did things he shouldn’t have, and I wished for a friend like Aslan who would listen to everything I said until I ran out of words.”
“And then he stays.” The words were a whisper.
“Exactly.” Jaime forced a small smile. “I wish I’d had that.”
“He helps me feel safe.” A grin burbled to the surface. “He doesn’t interrupt me with questions.”
Jaime laughed. “I’m sure he doesn’t. Where’s Mr. Chandler?”
“On his phone. It’s okay as long as he lets Aslan come.” There was such quiet confidence in the sentence.
Jaime bit back a flush of emotion. She was glad Tiffany was getting the help she needed. Chandler seemed to have a knight-in-shining-armor side—rearranging his life to show up at court hearings and parks. Just because no one should be alone. He’d said his job wanted him to use up his vacation time, but still . . . It took a special person to spend it getting involved in other people’s messes.
It didn’t matter how wonderful he appeared. She had to remember he was perfect for someone else, not for her.
Wasn’t that the lesson she’d learned in high school and college? That she was death to any relationship? That the part of her that was supposed to welcome companionship and love was broken? She either demanded too much or not enough, so she’d decided to look for neither. “Is it okay if I talk to your mommy a minute?”
Tiffany shrugged and went back to petting the very patient dog.
Jaime stood and brushed off her jeans before turning her attention to Madeline, who sat on the bench a few feet behind her daughter. “How is her counseling going?”
Madeline shrugged. “It’s barely had time to start. She’s seeing two counselors though. With the play therapist, it’s almost impossible to tell what’s accomplished. Tiffany is eight. It seems like they should be talking or something.”
“I don’t know much about play therapy.” Jaime wanted to be careful not to say too much about something she didn’t understand. “What about her other counselor?”
“Tiffany gets so upset every time, it takes several hours to calm her down. This is not my girl. She’s always been so sweet, and I don’t know what to do.”
Tiffany chose that moment to swivel around and look at her mother—who quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced a smile.
Jaime wasn’t the girl’s mother, but she knew she couldn’t walk away without helping the child, even if it meant more time with the intriguing Chandler Bolton. She’d have to find a way to guard her heart while making sure Tiffany found justice. Just as she was seeking with Dane.