Brother to Brother: The Sacred Brotherhood Book I (30 page)

Chapter 35

Melody

My hands shook as I smoothed down my white, fitted business blouse before tucking them into the neat, grey slacks I’d found among the clothes I’d evacuated from Arizona. I suppose I should just be grateful they still
fit.
I was definitely heavier after bearing a child and with another on the way, even though it was still so early in the pregnancy, only slightly snug was better than
oh my god, what am I going to wear to court?

“Hey, look at me,” Archer ordered from behind me and I turned away from the full length mirror that had been part of the bedroom set that Rush had built.

Archer leveled me with his calm, gold green gaze and said, “It’s going to be fine. Noah’s not going anywhere.”

“I know, I guess I’m just worried about seeing them, you know?”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that either, Babe. I’m gonna be right there with you.”

“I don’t like that they’re making me bring Noah with us, he shouldn’t be there.”

“He won’t be,” Archer soothed, standing up from where he’d tied his shoe. He was in an honest to god suit. A dark blue one, with a light blue shirt, and tie. It looked wrong on him, even if he did look good. I’d braided his hair tightly at the back, so from the front, it gave the illusion that he had short hair.

My hair I’d put up into a French Twist, a light fringe of bangs over my eyes. My makeup was understated, but there, and all I wanted to do was throw up – but that would make my mascara run. Additionally, I didn’t think this nausea had anything to do with morning sickness. None at all. I sighed and let Archer pull me into his arms.

“Everything is going to be okay, Baby. Your parents are crazier than a shit house mouse and everyone knows it. Just give ‘em the rope to hang themselves.”

“I know, I mean, you’re right, but I’m still afraid.”

“I know, now come on; let’s get this done.”

I followed him downstairs to where Revelator bounced Noah, holding him up high above his head. My sharp dressed little man, with his blue slacks, white shirt, and little red and blue striped clip-on tie. He was dressed just like his daddy, and it was adorable.

“Thank you for helping us out,” I murmured to Rev, taking Noah from him. He was likewise dressed for court in black slacks and a white button down. He’d forgone a tie though, and the shirt material strained across his shoulders, and around his arms. Mandy had even tamed his hair, however the gauges in his ears, even tasteful and not stupid huge as they were, still stood out.

Mandy, held Eden on her hip, her belly swollen with Dante, their boy, who was due very soon in November.

“It’s no trouble, you guys are family,” she smiled and said, “Even my daddy is coming. Imagine the look on their faces when they realize you have a preacher of your own on your side!”

I sighed, and nodded. I felt a keen sense of dread the entire drive to the courthouse, grateful that Archer was the one behind the wheel. Rev and Mandy followed us in her economical car, and I closed my eyes and just tried to remember to breathe.

“Feeling sick?” Archer asked.

“Yes.”

“Think it’s the baby?”

“I don’t know, it could be either or,” I said bleakly.

His response was perfect. He reached over the center console and gathered my hand resting atop my thigh in his and gave it a squeeze, and he held it the whole rest of the way there, even when he parked.

We got Noah out of the car and met Carina Washington on the front steps, she smiled warmly at us and waved at Noah who smiled broadly and waved back. A lot of the club and their ol’ ladies were here, too. All dressed professionally and respectfully for court.

“Hey, Little Guy!” Rush held up his hand for a high five and Noah hit it. He flung himself at Rush and Rush grabbed him. I relinquished my son to the track of laughter around us. That was Noah, when he liked something, he was all in; often times leaping before looking, and whether or not mom or dad were prepared for it.

“How are you doing?” Carina asked.

“Ready to fall apart at any second,” I said honestly.

“Don’t be, we’re on your side and good news, we pulled Judge Mathers.”

“Why is that good?” Archer asked.

“Judge Mathers is a straight shooter and has a
very
low tolerance for bull pucky. I think that will definitely work in your favor.”

Archer looked down at Carina with a faint, amused, smile on his lips, “
Bull pucky
?” he asked.

“Ohhh! You know what I mean,” she swatted him lightly in the arm and they both laughed and I just wanted to
scream
at them.
This is not funny! How can you both be so blasé about this!? They’re trying to take our
son
away from us!

I didn’t though, I simply held myself rigid and as stoic as I could imagine, because if I opened my mouth, I really was going to start screaming and I wasn’t going to be able to
stop
.

“There he is! Hi Noah!” I stiffened and turned slowly, a man I didn’t know stepping between my mother and my son, putting a hand up.

“That’s far enough,” he stated, “You’ll be able to see him pending the result of the hearing, and that’s
if
his parents permit you to see him.”

“Who are you?” my mother demanded coldly, “That is my
grandson!
”

I took a step forward, incendiary rage building and threatening to spill from my mouth, but Archer stepped in front of me, a wall of muscle in his off-putting suit; he looked down at me, eyes solemn and murmured, “Easy, Baby. Don’t let ‘em rile you up. Not now; now is the worst possible time to lose your shit and show your ass.”

I nodded, and breathed slowly, in through my nose and out through my mouth, tuning back into what the man was saying to my mother.

“…name is Jonathon McNulty and I’m your daughter’s attorney.”

“Here, Logan. It’s about time we went inside, I’ll take Noah for the time being,” Carina said to Rush, and Rush nodded grimly and handed Noah over to her while Phillip, my stepfather, was reading into my lawyer about what an awful, godless mother I’d been to Noah. How I’d never been home after he’d been born, and how he and my poor mother had done the Christian thing, and had cared for my son when it’d become obvious that
I
had had no interest.

I was so
angry
I couldn’t speak, and I could tell my lawyer was non-plussed by what they had to say, even Carina was looking at Phil like he was off his nut, behind his and my mother’s backs as she went up the steps. Noah was looking at Phil as if he were troubled, and I wondered if he remembered my stepfather. If he remembered the yelling, and screaming, and the threats…

I closed my eyes and drew strength from Archer, and did the hardest thing I have
ever
done in my life. I kept my mouth shut, and walked past my parents as if they weren’t even there. I kept my mouth shut, when what I really wanted to do was burn down their whole world around them.

We filed into the hearing room and the first three rows of Archer and my side of the hearing room was packed; which made my parents exchange a look when it was just them, and one or two people from Phil’s congregation, just as stringent and hateful as the man himself behind them.

I stood beside Archer, our hands entwined, as he introduced me to Mr. McNulty, the family lawyer that he’d hired.

“We have Judge Mathers, that’s good,” he assured me. “Just stay calm, and keep looking like a deer in the headlights, Mrs. Turner.” I felt my eyes widen and Archer suppress a chuckle, and
again
I suppressed the urge to just
scream
at them. I’d never experienced anxiety like this before in my life. Never, ever.

I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted before I even had the chance to get started when the courtroom clerk said loudly, “All rise!”

I faced forward as an older gentleman in stately black robes appeared from a doorway in the back.

“The honorable Judge James Mathers now presiding.”

The older man sat creakily into the big leather chair behind the court bench and banged his gavel, “Sit down, the lot of you,” he ordered and sounded annoyed. I sank into my seat, my hand automatically groping for Archer’s. He gripped it and I felt my heart go into my throat.

“Not very often I preside over cases quite like this,” the Judge drawled, polishing his glasses on the sleeve of his robe before putting them back on, “and I have to say, after reading through everything presented, I am most heartily disturbed.”

I felt my heart sink, and saw my mother and Phillip sit up straighter in their seats. The Judge’s mouth set into a thin line as he looked from my side to my parent’s side. He looked over to the little box off to the side of the older courtroom where Carina Washington sat bouncing Noah. The Judge smiled fondly over at my son and I felt some of the tension in my chest ease. The very real, very kind look that he bestowed on my son telling me silently, that this man did, indeed, have my child’s best interest at heart.

“I’m not usually one to drag things out unnecessarily in here, but I
am
curious, so I would like to hear character witnesses, starting with you,” he said indicating my mother and step-father’s lawyer. Phillip was, of course, called up first.

He had a lot to say about how difficult I’d been in high school. How I’d been caught skipping class, sneaking out, and how the one time I’d been dragged out of a party drunk and reeking of marijuana when I was seventeen, which was
ten years ago
. He went on to say about how reckless I was, getting pregnant in the first place and by a biker and felon, no less.

I sat biting my lips together, eyes glued to the Judge who had his glasses perched on the end of his nose, holding a file out in front of him, scanning what was written there, half listening to what Phil was saying. He dropped the file flat to his desk and peered down his nose at me.

“Mrs. Turner,” he said.

“Yes?” I asked and my attorney gave me a gentle shove. I got to my feet, awkwardly, and felt like I was gonna faint.

“Now I know I’m not supposed to ask a lady her age, but how old are you ma’am?” I blinked.

“I just turned twenty-eight this last April,” I said.

“Twenty-eight,” he said thoughtfully, nodding to himself. He turned to say something to Phil, and turned back to me, “You can sit down now,” he said and I dropped like a stone.

“Do you think you can get to anything she’s done
lately
, sir? I do believe I said I don’t like dragging things out unnecessarily.”

Phillip stammered, and a lot of what he had to say after that was just so
unfair
that it was just about everything in my power
to
stay seated and keep my mouth shut. I gripped Archer’s hand under the table and was squeezing it so hard my knuckles were mottled red and white. He didn’t protest, or pull his hand away, he simply endured my panicked GI Jane Kung Fu grip in silence as if nothing at all were amiss.

The Judge listened to everything Phillip, my mother, and her cronies had to say and sat back, fingers set in a steeple in front of him.

“Right, okay, Mr. McNulty, I think I’d like to hear from your character witnesses now.”

“Of course, is there anyone in particular that you’d like to begin with, Your Honor?”

“You said the child’s current physician is on your roster?”

“Yes Judge.”

“Let’s start there,” the Judge leaned back and Doc went up and was sworn in.

“When did you first meet Noah Beswick?” the Judge asked.

“He was brought into my emergency room with a minor head laceration,” Doc answered and the courtroom on my parent’s side broke out into murmurs. It was like every bad courtroom television drama and I felt my gorge rise.

“What did Mrs. Turner say happened?”

“She was in her kitchen making dinner, and Noah was running through the apartment they lived in at the time, she was tending hot food on the stove and before she could get to him, Noah tripped and his head hit the sharp corner on the strike plate of her bedroom doorway. You know, the thing that the little tab on the doorknob’s side fits into.”

“I know what a strike plate is,” the Judge grumbled. “Thanks for explaining anyway. How bad was the injury?”

“It required two stitches.”

More murmurs and I was terrified that as well-meaning as Doc was, he was making the situation worse and not better. I started to pray.

“And you don’t consider stitches serious?” the Judge asked, scribbling notes.

“No, not in my line of work.”

“Fair enough. How was Mrs. Turner behaving?”

“Honestly, she was a right mess. Crying, scared for her son, and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was frazzled, like any good mother would be.”

“Objection,” the lawyer on my parent’s side stood up. “The doctor can’t judge whether or not someone is a good parent based on one emergency room visit, let alone one where the child was clearly injured due to his mother’s negligence.”

“Well now,” the Judge said, tapping his name plate on the desk, “I do believe
I
will be the judge of that. Mrs. Turner?”

I stood up, “Yes, Your Honor?”

“Were you being negligent on the day in question?”

“I… I honestly don’t think so, Judge. I was home alone with Noah and trying to make sure he had dinner. I told him to stop running, but how do
you
get a one and a half year old who is excited, laughing, and having a good time to stop doing something that makes them happy?”

The Judge huffed a laugh, “I’m not the one whose parenting is being called into question.”
Ouch.
God damn it Melody.
“I’ll assume you were being rhetorical though, and answer your question, and the answer is: you don’t.” I nodded and he gave me a nod indicating I should sit down.

“You didn’t report the incident as abuse or negligence, did you doctor?”

“No, I did not.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, in my professional medical opinion, there was no negligence or abuse. Mrs. Turner, who at that time was Ms. Beswick, was beside herself and completely distraught. That’s not how an abuser, or negligent mother acts.”