The prosecuting attorney pulled out a file. “Your Honor, at this time I would like to show the jury the medical forms, photographs, and X-rays from people’s exhibit sixteen.”
More murmurs ran through the jury box. She wished her testimony would end here; however, she knew that she had to face Tyrone’s attorney now. She hoped she had the wherewithal to maintain her courage.
Valerie sat in the courtroomand watched as the judge looked over his notes. The trial had taken a long and exhausting two days. The jury returned with a guilty verdict for the violence but did not find him guilty of attempted murder. Now the judge would render the sentence, and she would find out how long she could breathe without fear.
“Mr. Baker,” the judge said, looking at him over the rims of his glasses. “You have been tried and found guilty of aggravated battery. That can come with a twenty-year sentence in prison. However, because you have no other charges on your record, I’m going to sentence you to ten years, mandate anger management classes, and place a protective order on Miss Flynn effective on your release date. If, after you are released from prison, you in any way, shape, or form break that protective order, then I will personally see to it that you get the maximum sentence.” He sat back and slipped his glasses off his face with his left hand while picking up the gavel with his right. “You are hereby remanded into the custody of the state of Georgia to begin your sentence of incarceration at an appropriate penal institution. Court dismissed.” After he pounded the gavel, he stood and left the room through the door behind him.
Valerie’s breath escaped her lungs in a rush. Ten years? Anger rushed through her heart; bitterness filled her mouth. So much for justice.
She stood. Using her cane, she slowly and carefully hobbled out of the courtroom. In the hall, she leaned against the wall and took long slow breaths. She couldn’t stay in Savannah. Where could she go? Where could she run?
“Valerie.”
Startled, she turned to see Philip and Rosaline Dixon. The sight of Auntie Rose, in her smart plum-colored suit, her frosted hair swept up in a simple twist, brought back a flood of memories of playing in her backyard with the Dixon boys. Nostalgia for home poured into her heart. Rosaline had stayed by her bedside in the hospital and took care of her at home. She and Uncle Phil had sat in the courtroom every day.
With a sob, she fell into Rosaline’s arms. “This seems remarkably unfair,” she cried.
“I’m so furious right now,” Rosaline said, running her hand down Valerie’s back. “I think I’m even angrier than when the jury’s verdict came back.”
Phillip patted her back. “What can I do?”
She had worked for him since graduating from college. Through all her hospital stays, surgeries, and rehabilitation, he’d kept her on the payroll.
“You’ve done so much,” she sniffled, straightening. Rosaline handed her a tissue and she used it to wipe her eyes and nose.
Rosaline stepped forward and took Valerie’s hand. “You’re our family. What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “but I can’t stay here.”
“That job in Atlanta at the main office is waiting for you,” Philip said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “We would love to have you there. One word is all I need.”
Rosaline studied her face then reached out and took her hand. “You take your time deciding. Talk it over with Buddy. Let him help you make the decision.”
As if on cue, Buddy walked through the courtroom doors. He had barely aged over the years. His brown skin stayed smooth, not marred by wrinkles or lines. White hairs scattered among his black curls gave the only indication that he very quickly approached his sixtieth birthday. He looked around, saw them, and approached. “Got caught by that prosecutor. He’s concerned for you. Wanted me to assure him that you’d be okay.” He held his hand out to Philip. “My brother.”
“Buddy. Whatever you two need,” Philip said. “Day or night.” He looked at his wife. “Ready, love?”
Valerie watched them walk away, feeling less scared, less trapped. “He still has a job for me in Atlanta.”
“He’d probably give you a job anywhere in the country,” Buddy said. “You do what you have to do. You were ready to move there in September.”
“Lots happened since September.” She straightened from the wall and they started walking down the wide hallway. She braced herself with the cane more than she wanted to and hated every step she took. “I can take my time moving there, right? No rash decisions. I have five years, if I understand the parole process.”
“I’m praying for you, girl,” he said in an untypical moment of softness.
“I know you are,” she said. “I just wish I had the faith you have that someone is listening. Would be nice to think of some loving deity up there helping us make decisions.”
Buddy’s lips thinned but he simply said, “There was a time you knew it to be true.”
“There was a time I believed in woodland fairies, too. I grew up. My worldview changed.” She looked at her watch. “Do you want to get lunch?”
“Nah. You go on, girl. I have to get back to Atlanta.” He put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her, his brown eyes kind. “I’m sorry for not stopping what happened to you. I ignored the signs until it was too late. Please forgive me.”
Overwhelmed, she put her arms around him. “Uncle Buddy! You have nothing to be sorry for. I never said a word to you.”
“Nevertheless.” He cleared his throat and stepped away. “This chapter in your life is over. Don’t let it define you. Garner strength from it, take the lessons God would have you learn, and move forward. Not backward.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Whatever that means for you, you have my support and blessing.”
He turned and walked away from her. She mulled over his words, dissected them, and believed him. She knew he encouraged her to come back to Atlanta so she’d live closer to him.
