Wendell cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Honor.” He looked at the back of Julia’s head, then at Judge Bartlett. “Both Julia and her little sister did very well at my house, I thought. The first night was a little bumpy, as Pippa felt homesick. But each day was easier. We set up a bedroom for them, and they decorated it nicely. They slept and ate well, as far as I could tell. They seemed comfortable, and we spent a good deal of time together.”
“Very good. How was your time spent?”
Wendell thought of all they’d done. “During my days off, the girls spent time outside, hiking the property with me. We went to the county fair. As you know, Julia’s horse is on the property. We finished building an enclosure and stall for him, and the girls seemed happy to participate in that.” As the words tumbled from his dry mouth, Wendell realized how clinical this all sounded. A list of things done. Nowhere in there was how he or the girls felt.
“Thank you, Mr. Combs. The court appreciates your investment of time and energy in helping to decide the best course ofaction.” Judge Bartlett riffled through papers, and Wendell caught his breath. It seemed his role was done. At that point, Julia turned around. “Thank you,” she whispered. Wendell nodded. For the first time, his breathing steadied.
“The court would like to take a short recess while I confer with the guardian ad litem. I ask everyone to remain close by.”
Unlike the others, Wendell remained in his seat. Jamie ushered a very worried-looking Julia out, assuring her this was all normal. Candace and Geoffrey stood and conferred quietly in the corner. Despite the air-conditioning, the room was suffocating, but Wendell feared if he got up to leave, his legs would be jelly. He stayed put until the judge returned and everyone was called back.
“All right,” Judge Bartlett began when everyone had been seated. “The court has heard a number of compelling accounts regarding the emancipation case for Julia Lancaster.” He looked directly at Julia, and Wendell felt his heart rate increase, as he was sure hers had. “You are a remarkable young woman who has proved herself to be bright, determined, and capable, despite a shattering hardship that has fallen on you this year.
“That hardship is what I believe has propelled you to file for emancipation. A serious decision with serious consequences. That said, you are a unique young woman with a unique set of circumstances that afford you the financial security to care for yourself.”
Wendell felt the air in the courtroom shift. Why couldn’t the judge just announce his verdict?
“While I empathize deeply with your plight, and while I understand your wishes to emancipate yourself, I cannot discount the nature of your situation. You have just lost your parents. A difficult loss for any adult, let alone a child. And for the intent of this proceeding, you are still recognized by the state of Connecticut as a child.
“You are grieving, Ms. Lancaster. As you have every rightto do. That is a healthy course of things. But given your recent loss and the depth of what I imagine your grief to be, this court cannot in good conscience saddle you with the responsibilities of adulthood at the tender age of fifteen and especially during this difficult time. Nor can it consider your further request to take on the additional responsibility of raising your sibling, who is significantly younger and will, as a result, require significantly more care.”
Wendell’s eyes flashed from the judge to Julia’s back. She remained in her seat, but he could see the shaking of her shoulders. “With that in mind, unless another opportunity for guardianship is presented to the court, it is my recommendation that you return to your family home with your sister and reside with your aunt. While your trust will remain as deemed by your parents’ estate to both you and your sister, your custody will remain, as they set forth, with your aunt.”
The judge drew a deep breath, looking pained. “Please know the court sympathizes with your situation. Deeply. But as such, I’m afraid the petition for emancipation of Julia Lancaster is denied.”
Wendell did not hear what was said next. Nor could he have recalled, if asked. There was the whoosh of air moving around him. The rising of Julia in front of him. All eyes turned as she leaped up, her skirt billowing. And then there was silence. What Wendell would remember was that nothing came from her mouth. She simply sank to her knees.
And then there were hands. Jamie Aldeen’s, reaching down to her. Candace, who came to stand beside her, speaking with her hands. Geoffrey Banks, who jammed his hands in his pockets, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. And Wendell’s. His hands reached for Julia, past all the others who’d come to stand around her. And when he made contact, she spun around and fell into his arms.
It had been years since he’d pulled in at the Spigot. Since the night Alan had sought him out and sat down on the stool beside him. Wendell was not an alcoholic so much as he was turning to drinking to numb himself. He could handle a beer, as long as he was in therapy and managing his PTSD. That was what he told himself as he parked the truck and pushed the door open.
Nothing had changed. Not the darkness or the stale murky air. In the corner, three guys stood around a pool table. An old jukebox blinked uncertainly in the corner, the music flickering on and off, though no one seemed to mind. He sat down on a spare stool, not far from the ones where he and Alan had talked, and ordered a beer. It would be just one. He needed to think about the hearing.
Down the bar, someone raised a hand. “Combs. Where you been?” Wendell looked over. It was Ronny Perkowski, whom he’d grown up with; Ronny now did caretaking for the Dunhams. Wendell raised a hand in greeting and kept his head down. He wasn’t here to socialize.
The first beer went down too quickly, and he felt an actual thirst. So he ordered another. By then a couple guys he recognized from the town works department had come in. Bill Hardings was nice enough, but he was with another guy Wendell didn’t particularly care for, Owen Miller, who was a bit of a blowhard. “Wendell, good to see you,” Bill said. Wendell nodded and kept to his beer.
He tried not to listen as the guys talked about their work week and who was leading the men’s softball league that summer. None of it mattered to him. But his ears pricked at the mention of Scooter Dunham. Ronny Perkowski was talking. “He’s buyin’ the Lancaster place. All of it. Going to turn it into a subdivision.” He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Big money.”
“No way, I heard it was going to be open space for the town.”
“Nah, that sister came over from London and took over. It’s hers to do with what she wants. Ain’t that right, Combs?”
He could feel their heads turn in his direction.
Wendell shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it,” he said.
“That’s not what I hear.” Ronny Perkowski slid off his stool and came around the side of the bar. He was smiling, but Wendell didn’t like his tone. “I hear you’re still working up there. You must see and hear all kinds of things. What’s that Brit got you working on these days?”
Wendell took a swig of his beer. “It’s just business, Ronny. Why don’t you mind yours.”
Ronny came up beside him. “Didn’t I hear you’ve got a horse now?”
The hair on the back of Wendell’s neck prickled.
“Yeah, I think I did hear that. Wasn’t that the older girl’s horse?”
The men started to snicker behind him. Ronny leaned in close. “What’d she do for you to get that horse?”
