“There are no sides, Julia.”
Candace got in the car and started it.
Julia glared at him, and Wendell could feel the heat of her disappointment. Then she took Pippa’s hand. As she stomped down the steps, she called back, “I thought you were different. Some hero you are!”
It was a blow effectively targeted and expertly delivered. He took it, dead on.
Candace rolled down the window. “Mr. Combs, we will talk in the morning.”
Wendell leaned against the railing. “I only bought the horse as a nod to Alan; he was my friend.” As the words came out, Wendell realized he meant them. He had never admitted it before, and yet when Alan had died, a friend was exactly what he’d lost.
Candace stared straight ahead as the girls clambered into the backseat in a flurry of disarray. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow morning. First thing.” He was going to be fired.
Wendell stood on the porch until the taillights rolled down the driveway and turned into the darkness. There would be no sleep for him tonight. He sank down in the rocker that he’d discovered Pippa curled up in.
Wendell was used to feeling numb. It was a state he’d spent years chasing. But tonight he felt too much. Sadness. Regret. Loss. He sat, rocking, until the first light came over the horizon. He thought of the girls, driving away in the backseat of the car, and wondered if he’d made a huge mistake. Of Ginny, driving away from him that afternoon. He thought of Dr. Westerberg, who hadtold him that he needed to let himself feel the good parts along with the bad. But what happened when everything good left?
When the sun made its slow climb over the hills, Wendell stood up. There, at the bottom of the porch steps, was a tiny pink bicycle with sparkly streamers on the handlebars. He went inside and shut the door behind him.
Twenty-FiveRoberta
Julia Lancaster was a hell of a pain in the butt, that much she was sure of. What Roberta was not sure of was whether or not she could help the girl.
Roberta had been working in her kitchen on a pie crust when there was a knock at the door. Blueberry season had come early, that first week of July, due to the long spring and warmer weather. Nothing, it seemed, was as it should be that summer. Not the season, not the sense in Saybrook. But an early crop of blueberries, she would welcome. She’d just begun rolling out the crust when Julia Lancaster showed up.
Now, perched on Roberta’s living room couch, wringing her hands nervously, Julia looked to be in that aching stage between little girl and young woman. It tugged at Roberta’s heart.
Julia cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to barge in. But we have a situation at my house.”
“Oh?”
“I tried to reach Jamie. She’s pretty cool, by the way. But apparently, she’s in court all day?”
Roberta leaned back in her chair. “I’m glad you like her. She’s very good. Okay, so this is not uncommon. Lawyers are not usually reachable by phone right away, but I’m sure she’ll call back as soonas she can.” She paused, knowing that by asking more questions, she would further involve herself. Which she did not want to do. “What is the situation at home?” She could not help herself.
“Things are bad. Last night Pippa ran away.”
Roberta shook her head. “Good grief, you girls are a couple of night owls! Again?”
“Yes. To Wendell’s.”
“I see.” Wendell was surely having a time of things. Roberta would have to check in on him next. “What happened?”
“Pippa and I don’t want to stay with our aunt anymore. We don’t want to leave our home, but as long as she’s in it, we can’t stay. I filed for emancipation. I just didn’t think it would be this ugly this fast.”
Roberta felt for Julia, but she wanted to ask the girl what she’d expected. This was how it went. People took so long getting to the end of their rope, making big decisions. And by the time they did, often things had broken down so much they couldn’t stand to remain under the same roof as the courts tried to make sense of it all. “What is it you want to do?”
“Jamie said a guardian ad litem was being assigned to us. I want that person to come sooner than later. We need them.”
Well, she knew what she was talking about. And it was not an unreasonable ask. What was unreasonable, unfortunately, was the time these things seemed to take to process and get going. Nothing involving the state was ever fast.
“There must be someone you can call,” Julia said hopefully. “An old judge friend?”
Roberta raised one eyebrow. “Old judge? Like myself?
Julia flushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“In any case, I can’t get the wheels of justice spinning any faster than anyone else. But I suppose I could make a call and at least inquire. I do know the probate judge for Litchfield County; he’s a good man.”
