36

 

I’d never been to court before. After Atticus bailed us out of jail in North Carolina, officers dismissed any charges against me because eyewitnesses filed reports that confirmed my story.

On the day of Patrick’s court hearing, I buttoned the jacket of my best gray suit with shaking hands. I hoped it made me look serious and conservative. After I slipped into a pair of low-heeled pumps I helped Aaron dress in a navy blue suit identical to Patrick’s, who stood waiting in the living room as pale as his white shirt.

After we arrived at the county courthouse, I tried to sit on an oak bench on the second floor, but my nerves kept me pacing back and forth in front of the courtroom doors. I couldn’t have been more shocked when I saw Clarence walk up the stairs. He didn’t look like the same man I’d seen at the rally. He’d slicked back his thick black hair, and designer, horn-rimmed eyeglasses rested on his shiny, scrubbed nose. The whiskers were gone, and his smile radiated like a model’s from a fashion magazine. He wore a silk taupe suit and tie, obviously expensive, tailor made, and much nicer than the ill-fitting polyester department store suit Aaron wore.

The gleaming black Italian-made shoes on his feet looked brand new, and the supple crocodile leather so highly polished, the toes reflected the courthouse lights when he walked.

I could spot over-priced, designer shoes a mile away. I’d sold shoes in college and in those days measured the worthiness of a man by the quality of his shoes. Thankfully, I’d proved that theory wrong by the time I woke up and noticed Aaron in his flip flops.

Clarence looked impeccable. I smiled to myself thinking about how shocked the judge would be to see the hairy shoulders and tattoos hidden underneath those exclusive, fashionable clothes.

I heard a group of footsteps ascending the stairs and turned away in case someone from town walked among them. When I peeked over my shoulder, I saw a large assemblage of men and women dressed in stylish suits. At first, I assumed they were all lawyers. But I quickly glanced back again when I realized everyone looked vaguely familiar.

“Atticus? Is that you?” I swiveled around on one of my inexpensive heels and scooted across the marble floor to where everyone stood. It was all I could do to keep from gaping like a baboon making faces at spectators in a zoo.

Oh. My. Atticus looked painfully handsome, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and purple tie. With his white beard and hair trimmed to perfection, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a fashion makeover. He was, in short, drop dead gorgeous.

Now I knew what Opal saw in him.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Kirstie,” Aaron whispered in my ear.

Atticus laughed at me staring at him. “What? You think I go around wearing my leathers all the time? I know how to clean up good.” Atticus laughed at me again. His booming, contagious laugh echoed through the hallowed halls of justice and reached a family standing on the other side of the building waiting for their verdict.

Opal came up the stairs just as I finished giving Atticus a hug. “Put your eyeballs back in your head, Opal,” I teased.

She became shy. “Hi, Atticus.”

“Opal.” Atticus turned red. Those of us looking on pretended not to notice and smiled at one another. The chemistry between the two of them was palpable.

“It’s time to go in,” Clarence said. “Now, you all know you can’t say anything during the hearing. Stay quiet, and let me take care of things. Atticus, behave yourself. Keep the talking down to a minimum. Better yet, don’t talk. I need y’all to sit right behind our table. If the judge sees this show of support behind Patrick, she’ll be more likely to go easier on him. They’re getting tougher on kids with underage drinking charges. It’s very serious.”

I was already nervous before. Now it was all I could do not to eat my freshly manicured nails to the quick.

Atticus smiled. “My lips are sealed. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Is there time for a prayer before we go in?” Flygirl stepped forward and grabbed hands with other bikers.

“Absolutely.” Clarence set down his briefcase, and we all joined hands to pray.

Flygirl prayed softly. “Father, bless Clarence, and help him to find favor in there. Help Patrick and his folks. Let everything be good, and let the judge be fair. In Jesus’s name. Amen.” Flygirl looked up and smiled at me. Her grin gave me courage.

We filed quietly into the courtroom, and I gave Patrick a kiss before he sat at the table beside his lawyer. It was all I could do to keep from crying. Here we were, a Christian family, sitting on the front row of a courtroom behind our little boy. When I held him in my arms the first time, I never pictured this.

“Where’s Timmy?” Atticus whispered in my ear behind me, forgetting his promise to stay quiet.

I wrote a note on a receipt I found in my purse. “He’s with Reba and Trace. He doesn’t sit still well in quiet rooms.”

“Understood.” Atticus wrote back. “Tell him I said hi.”

I smiled and whispered back, “Will do, Atticus. And, Atticus?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being here. And thank the biker gals and guys, too.”

“No problem.”

I kept looking behind me thinking that someone from church would walk through the swinging courtroom doors. I didn’t know whether they’d come out of mere curiosity or to support us. I thought at least Norman and Bernice and their group would make an appearance, but they never showed.

It would have been nice to receive the support of church friends. I was thankful Opal came. Lily had to work, and Reba and Trace were watching Daniel and Timmy. But I knew a lot of people whose schedule would have allowed them to come. Maybe they respected our privacy. I don’t know. But I couldn’t help wondering, who pastors the pastor when the pastor’s hurting?

While we waited for the judge to appear, the courtroom continued to fill with men and women neatly dressed. I thought I recognized several faces from the weekend bike rally. It was hard to tell without their biker gear if I knew them or not.

I leaned over and whispered in Aaron’s ear, “Remember, we can’t be late to Daniel’s recital tonight.”

Aaron nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. Who are all these people?” He looked around at a nearly full courtroom.

“I’m not positive, but I think they’re bikers who ride with Atticus. I know a lot of them are.”

“They are,” I heard Atticus whisper behind me.

Unbelievable. Bikers from all over Indiana and beyond filled the chairs in the courtroom.

“All rise,” The bailiff spoke, and we rose and listened as he introduced the judge. A serious looking gray-haired woman entered the courtroom dressed in a flowing black robe and a dainty Irish lace collar. She looked stern, grim, and important.

“Be seated,” the bailiff instructed.

The prosecutor did his lawyer thing and explained the charges, and Patrick’s lawyer called witnesses to explain how Patrick got access to the alcohol. He explained our home life and assured the judge we were attentive, caring parents. I didn’t understand all of the proceedings because my heart pounded loudly in my ears. I couldn’t hear what everyone said and couldn’t remember being this scared at any other time in my life.

“Are all these people here in support of this young man?” The judge looked over her glasses and waved her hand over the courtroom.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Clarence said. “They’re here to support Patrick today and come from as far away as North Carolina.”

“Patrick Donovan, please stand.” She removed her reading glasses and folded her hands.

Patrick stood. The hem of his jacket shook. He looked visibly nervous. I hoped the judge had children and could read how frightened he was. My mother’s heart wanted to shield him from this pain, but another part of me hoped he was learning his lesson before he learned to drive.

“Young man, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this many people come in support of a youngster when charged with underage drinking as I’ve seen in this courtroom today. You’re a blessed young fellow. Do you realize that?”

“Y-yes, Your Honor.” Patrick’s voice shook.

“You obviously have a loving family here today as well, parents who care about you a great deal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” His voice broke, and he choked back tears of shame. His sincerity wasn’t lost on the judge.

“I have the authority to fine you, order you to do community service, and place you in the Hancock Boys Home.”

She paused, I think, for effect. She fixed her glasses, looked down at her papers, and shuffled them around. Her pen flew as she scribbled something on a few pages and handed them to the bailiff. He nodded and handed the paper back. The courtroom was quiet and thick with anticipation. I held my breath.

“Patrick Donovan, because of the support I see in this courtroom, and because this is your first offense, I’m going to suspend your ability to obtain a driver’s license until you are eighteen years old. I will waive state custody, community service, and a fine and place you on probation in custody of your parents. I suggest you embrace the support you have behind you and make yourself worthy of the love in your life. Many young men your age have no one and get in less trouble.

“Make no mistake. This is serious business and that’s why I’m convicting you with consequences. If you drink again before you’re twenty-one, I won’t hesitate to place you in state custody and yank your license. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” She shot him a steely glare over the top of her glasses.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Patrick’s voice sounded young and meek.

The judge removed her glasses and looked right at me. I couldn’t breathe. “Reverend and Mrs. Donovan, I’m releasing him to your custody. He needs to report to the court every month for a drug test until probation is over on his eighteenth birthday. I’m also ordering him into recovery classes for teen alcoholics. If he meets all the conditions of his probation while in your custody, this Class C misdemeanor will be expunged. You should know this is for your benefit because your car insurance will go up an exorbitant amount should he have a record when he begins to drive. If he fails to meet the conditions of his probation, however, I will fine him fifteen hundred dollars and place him in state custody. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you,” Aaron spoke. I tried to speak but nothing came out. Thirty months of drug tests and classes. But he would be home. I could live with that.

“That is all.” The judge banged her gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

The bikers held their emotions in check until we filed through the doors and made it to the hall. Once Patrick’s support team was sure the courtroom stood empty, the guys ripped off their neckties, let out whoops and hollers, and threw them in the air. Top buttons were unbuttoned and jackets removed. I realized then what a sacrifice it was for them to appear all dressed up. This wasn’t their first choice in fashion apparel. They’d rather be in jeans and leathers.

Patrick stood beside Clarence, moping, looking down at the floor.

“You OK, honey?” I gave him a little shoulder hug.

He shrugged. “I feel stupid.”

“Don’t feel stupid, son.” Aaron patted him on the back. “Feel grateful and thankful God loves you enough to let you get caught.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a total drag I don’t get to learn to drive now.”

“But it’s better than jail,” I said. “And it could be a lot worse. You could have hurt someone, mainly yourself. But even in our sin, God protects us.”

“I know,” Patrick said. “We fall down, and He still picks us back up. I know that now.”

“Me, too.” I hugged him. “Me, too.”

“Oh no, what time is it?” Aaron looked at his watch. “It’s four ’o seven.”

I gasped. “Danny’s recital! We’ll be late.”