42

Tuesday morning—courthouse morning—felt heavy. The sky was gray and overcast, and the air smelled like winter. Kasia scanned the municipal building’s lot as Zan found a place to park. Jayce and A.J. were quiet in the back.

Her corduroy skirt wasn’t meant for climbing, so she stood on the running board and Zan lifted her down. She hugged him on impulse, and he pulled in a breath, slid his arms around her. She lifted her gaze to his, and his eyes made her feel as if anything was possible.

And of course, it was.

Truth.

Tatuś strode down the steps to meet her. “We were in the lobby. Lenka kept an eye out.”

They all entered the large marble lobby together. In small groups, they shared quiet conversations—even the tiniest sounds echoed off the cold stone.

The click of high heels sounded in the hall, like a string of small firecrackers. An austere woman in a charcoal-gray business suit, hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, strode toward them. “I assume you’re the Bernolaks? Good morning, Zan.”

His head whipped to attention. “Mrs. Johansen. I didn’t expect you.”

Tatuś stepped up immediately, offered his hand. “Aryk Bernolak. You are?”

“Lydia Johansen. We spoke on the phone. Zan’s sister and I felt that Kasia needed the presence of an attorney today. There’ll be no charge, but I’d like to act as her advocate, if that’s acceptable.”

Kasia glanced at Zan, who seemed genuinely surprised. The confident smile and nod he offered calmed Kasia a tad, but—this was so last minute. She’d psyched herself up for something totally different.

Her dad cleared his throat. “Is there somewhere we can discuss this privately?”

“Certainly. Follow me.” She clacked back down the hall. Tatuś reached for Kasia’s hand as the two of them followed her.

They entered a small room, spartanly furnished, probably designed for conversations like these. The bare walls, straight-legged table, and stiff office chairs offered no comfort, but Tatuś sat beside her.

“I’m sure you have questions,” the attorney said.

“I do, Mrs. Johansen. Thank you for your help on the phone. Your suggestions were excellent, and I’ll be the first to admit I don’t have the experience you do.”

“It was no problem at all. Call me Lydia.”

“What prompted you to drive three hours up here after our discussion?”

“The Hamiltons’ legal team. They’re intimidators. They speak first, apologize later. If you’ll allow me, I’ll act as Kasia’s advocate, not her official attorney, but I wouldn’t advise her being without professional legal representation.”

Kasia watched her dad’s jaw as he considered it. He would take care of her. He inhaled deeply through his nose, nodded. “Thank you, then. What do we need to do differently?”

Kasia willed herself to relax. If he trusted Lydia, she could too.

“Not much,” Lydia said. “Kasia, they’ll try to poke holes in your testimony everywhere they can. But that’s all they can do. They can’t make you anything less than you are, and they can’t hide the truth. Look them in the eye, and tell your story. You’ve already got the temporary order. All we have to do today is show that Blake’s behavior is problematic enough to deserve an official protective order. Those last a full year.”

“Don’t I have to prove all these things ‘beyond reasonable doubt’?”

“When you press charges in the criminal case, yes. But this is a civil hearing. The judge decides what evidence is acceptable, and after hearing both sides, he’ll decide whether or not you need the order.”

She explained courtroom protocol, discussed the order of the witnesses, and said they’d have to wait in the lobby until they were called. Mama and Tatuś could come in right away.

“What about Lenka? I want her in there with me for the whole thing.”

“She’s one of your witnesses,” Lydia stated.

“Does she have to be? I mean, if everyone will tell the same stories?”

“If you have three or four other witnesses at each of the events, I suppose her testimony isn’t necessary.”

Kasia’s dad studied her face. “To you, Kasiu. Which is more important? Lenka as a witness or support?”

“I want her in there.”

“Then I’m confident the others can handle the testimony,” he said.

Kasia squeezed his hand.

Lydia marked Lenka off her list.

~*~

“Alexander.”

Zan snapped to attention. Why was his father at the courthouse?

“Mrs. Johansen made it, I hear.”

“Yes, sir. You didn’t come up here just for the hearing.”

“No, I’m in Greenville for business this weekend, but Bailey seemed to think Lydia’s services were required. Tell me about this young woman, son. How serious are you about her?”

What? Kyle and Jayce were within earshot, and he didn’t want his dad vocalizing any assumptions. He knew how Zan used to be. “Can we go outside and talk?”

They stepped into the biting chill. “What are you asking, Dad?”

“Why did Bailey ask me to take care of this?”

“I didn’t realize you were paying for the representation. Thank you.” He leaned back on a pillar. “Kasia and I aren’t together, but she’s—I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

“You like her as much as you did Tasha?”

Zan shoved a hand into his hair. “She’s different—my priorities have changed.”

There was the Great Eyebrow again. “Bailey said as much. You’re not getting mixed up in all this religion, are you? Bailey—I understand. But you’re practical, son. I need to ask: Is Kasia a Christian too?”

Zan’s heart was a war zone. “She is. But she’s not the reason I am. This wasn’t a quick decision for me. I wrestled with it and weighed the facts. I—”

“The facts? Please.” The disdain stung.

His father’s condescension trampled him.

Help me.

A street sweeper rolled past.

Zan lifted his head and met his father’s eyes. “I know you’re disappointed, Dad. I get that.”

“You’re an incredible ball player, son. You’ve got a future ahead of you. Don’t risk everything—”

“I need you to hold off on the judgment. I’m not walking away from a single worthwhile part of my life.”

Dad’s mouth formed a grim line, and Zan could hear him breathing through his nose as he turned to look out at the street. “You were fine without all the confusion.”

“I’m not confused, Dad. I feel more sure of this than anything—ever. You’ve got to trust me enough to let me find my own way.”

“I hope things go well for your friend in there.” The disappointment in his voice was a bucket of icy water on Zan’s fire. His dad turned and walked down the steps.

~*~

No one said much as they waited, the air charged with unease.

Kasia stayed close to Tatuś, looped her arm through his. Zan stood over by Jayce and A.J., and his shoulders seemed slumped with burden, but every time his eyes connected with hers, he filled her with encouragement. She could do this.

Lydia checked her watch and suggested the family find seats in the courtroom. The Bernolaks followed her into the large hall and sat down. Kasia studied the room intently—every chair, every alcove, every plant, each light fixture—memorized their placement and characteristics as if her life depended on it.

Tatuś tapped a silent I. Love. You. on her knee, and she tried to smile at him.

Her mouth tasted sour.

The court officer stood and called out, began the session for the day. Then she heard her name. “Miss Kasia Bernolak.” Lydia stood, briefcase in hand, and nodded to Kasia. The two of them—without Tatuś—stepped up and took seats at the plaintiff’s table. On the other side of the room, the defendant’s table was empty.

Then the side door opened, and Blake—head high—strode in between two officers. A well-dressed man followed him in and sat beside him at the table. Blake cast a fleeting glance at Kasia, his eyes full of derision. She felt sick.

“All rise for the Honorable Daniel Wilson,” the bailiff called.

A sixty-ish gentleman in a judicial robe entered the courtroom and walked to the bench. Though he had a grandfatherly face, the expression was absolute authority. Kasia swallowed. Please let there be some grandpa in there somewhere.

“You may be seated,” the judge stated. “We need to be clear on a few things today. Although this civil hearing is, by definition, more informal than a criminal trial, I will tolerate no insolence from anyone. If you can’t behave respectfully, you’ll be asked to leave the courtroom. Do I make myself clear?”

Kasia nodded.

“Plaintiff? You may begin.”

Lydia stood and called Kasia to the stand. The bailiff swore her in.

She sat in the hard chair and stared out at the faces in the room. Every one of them incited a different emotion. Confidence. Love. Anger. Shame. Worthlessness. Nope. She’d look at the faces on the left side, thank you.

Sheriff Schilling, Tatuś’s friend, was in the back. No one else from church. She breathed easier. Just a touch easier.

Lydia offered Kasia a slight smile. “Miss Bernolak, what has caused you to feel as if a protective order is necessary?”

She started with the breakup in the spring and listed every detail she’d told Tatuś, hoping it would be enough. Things had changed between them, but there was no doubt of his love. “No matter what,” he’d said. And he’d proven it.

“And then,” she said, “Blake pretended to be someone else—after he’d been informed of the protective order—so he could come to the after-school club I run. That’s where he chased me out into the parking lot, grabbed me by the hair, and shoved me onto the ground. I don’t know what he’d have done if Officer Osbourne hadn’t arrived and helped.”

“Objection!” Blake’s lawyer shouted. “That’s speculation.”

“Sustained. Miss Bernolak, stick to what did happen,” the judge advised.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Since I came back from Peru, your honor, Blake’s shown up everywhere. It’s gotten to the point that I never feel safe. Anywhere.”

“Have you asked him to stop following you? Told him to leave you alone?” Lydia asked.

She nodded. “Yes. He gets really angry when I do that. Demands that I listen to him. Tells me he won’t just walk away. I don’t think he’s ever heard me, really. He’s too busy telling me what to do. Even his sister called and threatened me.”

“Oh?”

Blake’s attorney and his father exchanged confused glances.

“Tell us about his sister’s call,” the judge said.

Kasia explained the details.

“I know that some of these have been reported to the campus security and municipal police. Do you have any further documentation?” Judge Wilson asked.

She handed him an envelope with a dated description of every confrontation, the notarized transcription of Amber Hamilton’s voicemail message, photos of the vandalism, and everything else she, her friends, and her family had gathered.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Lydia asked.

“I…I guess not.” Nothing she could ever prove.

“Does the defense have any questions for the plaintiff?”

Blake started to speak, but his attorney shushed him and whispered something.

“Isn’t it true, Miss Bernolak,” the man began, “that Blake has also made several kind appeals to you? Told you he missed you, wished you would let him apologize. Brought you flowers.”

Kasia looked into the attorney’s eyes. “If he starts that way, the kindness never lasts long. By the end of the conversation, he yells, threatens me.” Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you ever let him finish? Or do your friends interrupt his apologies and conversation?” the attorney asked.

“They step in to protect me and get me out of there.”

“The night of the bonfire, did any of these friends see you get hurt?”

Kasia hesitated, and Lydia spoke up. “Objection. My client doesn’t know what others may or may not have seen that night. She only knows what she’s been told, and that’s hearsay.”

“Sustained,” replied Judge Wilson.

“I’ll rephrase the question. Miss Bernolak, did any of your other friends tell you that they had seen Mr. Hamilton at the bonfire?”

“No.”

“Do you mean no one saw him throw the rock at you or no one saw him at all?” he pressed.

“I saw him!”

Lydia shouted in frustration. “Objection! He’s badgering Miss Bernolak regarding hearsay again.”

Kasia balled her hands into fists.

“Sustained.”

She met Lydia’s eyes. Thank you.

Blake’s lawyer went on. “I’m sorry. Miss Bernolak, can you tell the court which of your friends were with you the night of the bonfire?”

“Alexander Maddox, Jayson McEwan, A.J. Montreuil, and Kyle Compton.”

Blake tapped his attorney’s arm, and they had a brief exchange. The attorney stood up straight. “Miss Bernolak, you were engaged to marry Mr. Hamilton, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“And you broke it off without warning. You didn’t give Blake a chance to ask questions. You didn’t even have a reason for breaking off the engagement. Is that correct?”

All that was true, but…

“Is that correct, Miss Bernolak?” His tone was patronizing. Frustrating.

“I didn’t have a reason that satisfied Blake.”

“And the two of you were sexually intimate. Correct?”

Kasia’s eyes flew to her father’s. No! Don’t do this! I—

“Objection, your honor,” Lydia said. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Sustained.”

Someone else may have spoken, but Kasia only saw Tatuś’s pained expression. His blue eyes cried, Tell me no. Tell me that’s not right, Curly-Q.

She wanted Tatusiu’s eyes to whisper love again. Don’t be so disappointed that you can’t love me anymore.

Blake’s lawyer said something, but Kasia heard only garbled words.

She had no idea what he wanted her to say, but if nothing else happened all day, Tatuś had to hear that her innocence had been stolen from her—not given. That was all that mattered right now. “He raped me. The first time we had sex, Blake raped me.”

Boom. Everything at once. Kasia wished a million times in the next minute that she could take it back.

Tatuś stood, on fire. “What?”

Sheriff Schilling stepped away from the back wall.

Blake jumped out of his seat and threw an accusing finger at her. “You lying whore!”

The gavel slammed down.

Her dad knocked his chair backward and rocketed toward the front of the courtroom, Sheriff Schilling after him. He reached across the table with both hands and pulled Blake up by his collar. “That’s my daughter you’re calling a whore! Don’t you dare—”

The gavel slammed down. “Order!”

Blake’s attorney shouted, “Your honor, this is outrageous. We’d like to press charges for third-degree assault.” He pushed Blake back into his seat.

And Tatuś hung his head. “Your honor, I’m sorry. I—” The apology came too late.

“Mr. Bernolak, you are being placed under arrest.”

“Yes, sir, your honor. Forgive me.”

No!

Deputy Schilling put him in handcuffs and led him out the side door of the courtroom.

Before the door shut, Tatuś turned to Kasia and mouthed, I’m sorry.

The Honorable Daniel Wilson spoke firmly. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m holding you in contempt of court for that remark. And if I were you, I’d choose words from here on out that demonstrate your ability to show respect, rather than help Miss Bernolak solidify her case. Am I understood?”

Blake scowled, and his lawyer stepped on his foot.

Like a child, Blake spouted, “Yes, your honor. Sorry.”

How had she not seen him like this?

The judge turned to her. “Miss Bernolak, have you pressed criminal charges against Mr. Hamilton for the rape you’ve accused him of committing?”

“No, sir, your honor. It’s way too late for that. I…I just wanted to go on record as saying that I didn’t have sex willingly—at least not at first.” She glanced at Mama. Tears poured down her ashen face. Lenka’s head bowed.

The judge cleared his throat and asked if the defense had any further questions. Finally, he said, “Miss Bernolak, you may step down.”

Kasia rejoined Lydia at the table. Lydia simply whispered, “You did well.”

The judge called the first witness, and Tatuś was in a jail cell somewhere.