Leaving Yesterday (29 page)

She climbed on behind her brother. “Go fast, Kurt.”

“You got it.” He peeled out down the driveway, and the sound of her squeals covered the hillside.

Rick watched them go, then turned to me. “I look at Kurt and how well he’s doing now, and I realize that once again Monte has been a better father than I ever was.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, and I was certain I saw tears in his eyes—something I’d seen only at his mother’s funeral and no other time. “During Christmas before Nick died, I heard him on the phone with a girl from school. He was telling her about our Christmas feast and about Monte and Jodi. I heard him say, ‘Monte has always been my role model.’ ” Rick’s voice cracked here, and he shoved his fingers through his hair. “My own son preferred Monte over me.”

“Is that why you’ve been so upset with Monte for the last few years?”

“I wasn’t going to blame myself for that, so I placed all my anger directly on Monte’s shoulders. Yep, that’s why.”

“Oh, Rick.” I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder. “It didn’t mean that you weren’t a good role model. Monte just shared the same faith, and that was very important to Nick.”

He put his hand atop mine. “Well, maybe I should have been more open to it then, instead of always … well, you know.”

“Nick loved you. You were a wonderful father and he knew it. I heard him say it a thousand times when he was telling me about one of his friends from a broken home. He always said how blessed he was to have you.”

“I’ll just bet.”

“Really, he did.”

“I wonder what he would say now, about his own family. It’s as broken as they get.”

I put my right hand on his cheek. “Yeah, well, I share plenty of the blame for that.”

We leaned toward each other then, and before any of our baggage could get in the way, Rick was holding me in his arms, kissing me like he used to before all this. I tasted the salt of tears, and wasn’t sure if it was Rick’s or my own.

The moment was too good to last long, and it didn’t. Too much distance had grown between us and too many barriers had risen in that space to be forgotten in an instant. When we pulled apart I felt everything—hope and doubt and fear and love and anger. We parked the car in front of the house, and I knew there was still much work to be done before all was well between us again. At least now, though, we were committed to getting there.

Forty

Five more days passed before the morning of my arraignment finally arrived. During those days I thought of Paul and Daniel and Joseph in the Bible, those who’d faced prison. But in every case they were innocents suffering for God. I was guilty, and day by day my prayers boiled to a simple plea for mercy. Not that I deserved it, but for Rick and Caroline. I’d also hoped that the event would escape everyone’s notice. I wanted to go in quietly and get this all over with. But of course that’s not what happened.

Ryan Scott and I walked toward the courthouse together. He pointed toward a clump of people gathered around a sidewalk. “Those are reporters. I’m not sure who they’re talking to, but when they see us, they’re going to be right in our faces. Keep your head down, your expression neutral, and don’t say a word.”

“I’ve got no problem with that.”

As if they’d heard him, the pack As if they’d heard him, the pack looked up and immediately began to run in our direction. I looked at the sidewalk just a few feet in front of me. “Mrs. Stewart, is it true that your son confessed to the crime, and that justice in this case could have been served without your ever coming forward? What made you decide to turn yourself in? How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling?
Okay, that was the dumbest question I’d heard in a long time. As we got closer to the front door, I turned to the side and tried to catch a glimpse of the person they’d been talking to. I recognized her at once. Gary Singer’s mother.

We walked into the small room, filled mostly with the same crowd that had been present at Kurt’s arraignment a few weeks ago, except there were no members of Rudy Prince’s family that I could see.

Beth, Ken Maddox, and several other friends from church smiled and waved up at me. Noticeably absent were Jana, Julie, and Marsha. Just as well. I’d gotten enough of the grapevine chatter to know what the three of them were saying about me. I was glad I didn’t have to face them, now that I’d sworn off putting on a happy face and pretending.

Rick, Kurt, Monte, Jodi, and Lacey all sat in the front row, with an empty seat beside Lacey. A jacket lay across it, obviously holding someone’s spot. I had no idea whose it might be.

Just then, Theresa Singer entered the courtroom, picked up the jacket, and sat down. She and Jodi exchanged some sort of small talk. Then she looked me directly in the face and nodded. I returned the gesture and turned back in my seat.

“All rise.” The bailiff’s announcement caused my heart to skip a beat.

The proceeding was quite short. The judge was middleaged, and had a rather pleasant demeanor, or at least I would have thought so until he looked up at me. “Mrs. Stewart, you are charged with obstruction of justice, destruction of evidence, and accomplice after the fact. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor.” Of course everyone in this courtroom knew that I was guilty. They all knew exactly what I’d done. But Ryan Scott had assured me that now was not the time to state any of that in front of the court. There was lots of legal wrangling to be done before we reached that point. I didn’t argue.

A few minutes later everything was over. I was free to go home on the promise I would return when summoned back to court.

I turned just in time to see Theresa Singer step quickly out of the courtroom. I walked around the rail and hugged my family. “That wasn’t too terrible.”

Jodi hugged me. “Did you see all the press out there, talking to Gary Singer’s mother?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard her tell them you were a brave and good mother.”

Kurt came to stand beside me. “And she’s exactly right.”

Forty-One

Two Months Later

“She’s a beautiful baby.” I looked down at the pink-cheeked darling wrapped in a striped hospital blanket and it made me gasp. The oval shape of her eyes, the dimple in her chin—it was like holding Kurt as a baby all over again.

“She is, isn’t she?” Pamela blinked back tears and looked from me to Kurt. “The Tuttles will take good care of her.”

“They’re good people.” Kurt’s voice was thick. He reached down and kissed the baby on the forehead. “Good-bye, little one. Enjoy your life. Always remember that your daddy loves you.”

“And your grandmother, too.” I stroked the baby’s cheek, then turned away.

Kurt put his arm around my shoulder as we walked from the hospital room together. “It would be so easy to say I want to be tested, to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt I’m her father, to demand custody.” His words mirrored my own thoughts, and after seeing the baby, I had a pretty good idea what the tests would show.

“I know what you mean.”

“But it wouldn’t be the right thing to do, and we both know it. I’m going to end up in jail, and even though I know you would take care of her for me, she deserves a stable life, with a loving mother and father who will be there for her.”

My head knew he was right, but the rest of me desperately wanted to hold on to her forever.

Kurt squeezed me a little tighter. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Harder than turning yourself in?”

“Yeah. I mean, that was scarier because I knew I was looking at jail, but there was no question about what was the right and wrong thing to do. Here, if I think about it long enough, I can convince myself that it would be best for her to be with her biological father. It’s much harder shutting out that voice.”

We walked into the parking garage, where Rick waited for us, leaning against the side of his truck. I reached up and kissed Kurt on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Again.”

“Me too.” Rick pushed off the car and hugged his son. “So proud.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I thought of how few times Kurt had heard those words over the course of the last few years. It was strange how a tragedy like this sometimes turns things for the better. The problem was there were still more turns to come, and not all of them, I was sure, would end so well.

Forty-Two

Three days later, just after lunch, the phone rang.

“I need to see the three of you in my office as soon as Kurt can get here. We’ve been offered a deal that I think we might want to consider.” Ryan Scott’s voice kept its usual lawyer monotone, but somehow I knew he was excited. Or at least, I hoped that was what I knew.

“Okay, I’ll give Kurt a call.”

“I just did. He’s on his way.”

Wow, Ryan Scott must really be excited. As soon as we hung up, I called Rick at work and told him what I knew.

“I’ll be home within the hour.”

“I don’t think Kurt will be here that soon.”

“That’s the idea. I want to be ready to roll when he gets here.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Caroline, who had come to stand behind me sometime during the phone conversation. “I’m coming, too.”

“No, sweetie, this is not for you. I’ll call Lacey and see if you can go stay with her.”

Caroline crossed her arms across her chest and stomped her right foot. “I’m a member of this family, and this affects me, too. You guys all think you are so smart trying to hide stuff from me. The kids at school know more about this than I do.”

The reality of that slammed me hard. She was right. The only way she would be able to fight the rumor mill was if she knew the truth and knew when something was and was not true. I reached down and gave her a hug. “You know what? You’re right. You can come with us.”

She pumped an air fist. “Yes.”

“But, you have to sit very still and very quiet in the lawyer’s office.”

“
Pffft
. I’m not a baby. Of course I will.”

After Rick arrived home, we all paced the floor until Kurt pulled into the driveway. He climbed out of his beater car, looking somewhere between terrified and hopeful. “Did he give you any idea what the deal is?”

I shook my head. “I was hoping you knew something.”

“Well, let’s quit wasting time, get in the car, and go find out what we can find out.” Rick jingled the keys in his hands. Caroline had already climbed in the backseat and was calling out the door, “Come on, everybody, let’s get moving.”

When we got out of the car, Rick waited for the three of us, but I could tell by the stiffness of his step and the impatient lift of his shoulders that he didn’t want to. He hurried down the hall, and the moment we were inside Ryan’s office he demanded, “A deal for whom?” He didn’t bother to take a seat.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stand. I dropped into my usual chair and pulled Caroline up into my lap. “What is the offer?”

“They’ve offered something of a package deal.” He looked at me. “Everyone involved understands the situation and realizes the decision Alisa made in coming forward. And if they didn’t realize it before, after all the editorials in the paper and Theresa Singer interviews on TV lately, they realize it now.” He actually laughed a little as he said those last few words. “For you they’re willing to settle for three years probation and a couple hundred hours of community service.”

I slowly exhaled. I could definitely live with that. But now came the hard part. “What about Kurt?”

Ryan pulled at his tie. “He’s a bit more complicated. He killed a man. But given the amount of public support for the two of you, and given the fact that there is arguably a selfdefense argument that could be made, they’ve offered voluntary manslaughter.”

That didn’t sound all that good to me. I looked up at Rick, who looked as confused as I was. He cast a furtive glance toward Kurt, then turned back to Ryan. “Will he go to jail for that?”

“Yes.” Ryan paused a moment, giving us time to take in this fact.

“For how long?” Rick asked.

“California is a determinate sentence state. What that means is, for each felony conviction, there are set amounts of time a person can go to prison. There is a low level, a mid level, and a high level. For voluntary manslaughter, the high level is eleven years.”

I gasped. “Eleven years? That’s too much.”

“The low level is three years, which the DA says is not enough. They’ve agreed to recommend the mid level to the judge, and that’s six years. Of course, the judge makes that final decision. He could choose to go high.”

Kurt leaned forward, hands on knees. “What do I need to do?”

“He’ll want a write-up of your background, et cetera. I want you to tell him about every good deed you’ve done in your entire life.”

“But if Kurt’s got to go to jail, why can’t we ask for the low end?” I knew it sounded whiny, but I didn’t care. My son was going to prison; I felt whiny.

“Mom, it’s the right thing.” Kurt’s voice was firm with resolve. He sat so erect in his chair, like a person trying to face the firing squad bravely.

I looked toward the lawyer. “But Rudy Prince threatened him first. It wasn’t Kurt’s fault.”