From his cell, Michael looked through the reinforced Plexiglas to the control room where two guards sat. According to the clock on their wall, it was past time for visitation.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t lied about him. He could be in some kind of trouble without even knowing it. But if that were true, the others would be looking at him with amusement, and he would feel the tension in the air—predators circling and waiting for blood.
Maybe it was something else. Maybe they had a message to give him, some awful news from outside. Alarm pulsed through him. Had something bad happened? Were they notifying him of some tragedy? Had Miller made another hit?
Pulling his shirt over his wet head, he hurried out of his cell and across the pod to the doors. He waved, getting the attention of the detention officer, who came out of the control room and opened the door.
Michael stepped out. “Who’s here?”
“Got me,” the guard said. “I’ll buzz you down. Report to Lancaster.”
Michael braced himself as he stepped onto the elevator, a sick feeling in his stomach. What if his father had had a heart attack? His blood pressure had been too high ever since Michael’s incarceration. Or his mother—what if something had happened to her?
Or was it Cathy? The thought of her being hurt made him almost physically sick, but he swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. By the time the elevator hit the bottom floor, he was sweating as if he’d just jogged two miles.
He found Sergeant Lancaster standing in the guards’ break room. Michael knocked. “You wanted to see me, Sarge?”
Lancaster glanced up at him, then looked down at the fax in his hand, reading as if he hadn’t heard Michael. Then he pulled another sheet off the fax and read it as well. He shook his head and grinned. “Unbelievable.”
“What?” Michael asked.
Lancaster looked at him. “Go back to your cell and pack up your stuff.”
Michael felt himself stiffen. Surely they weren’t going to transfer him to the state prison like they did all the other convicts. The judge had said he could serve out his sentence in the county jail, closer to home. He had promised him that small mercy so he could see his family and Cathy.
“Sergeant Lancaster,” he began.
“Michael Hogan,” Lancaster cut in, “you have officially been granted clemency by the governor of the state of Florida. You’re being released today.”
Michael just stood there, trying to absorb the words.
“Did you hear me?” Lancaster said, a smile stretching across his leathery face. “Son, you’ve been pardoned by the governor. You’re done here.”
It took a full minute for the news to sink in. “Are you kidding me? I’m getting out?”
“That’s right. Your record’s being expunged.”
Michael gaped at him, certain he’d made a mistake.
“You might want to get down to the waiting area. There’s somebody here to take you home.”
Michael got hold of himself and left the office, jogged up the hall to the processing area—and saw Cathy, weeping and waving some papers. “Is it true?” he said.
“It’s true!” she said, jumping like a game-show contestant. “Michael, you’re free!”
She threw her arms around him, and he picked her up and spun her around. “How did this happen?”
“It happened because God answers prayers,” Cathy said. “Hurry, go pack your things. I can’t wait to get you out of here.”
CHAPTER 42
Since word hadn’t reached the press yet that Michael had been released, family and friends were able to quietly gather at his parents’ house to celebrate his homecoming.
Holly and Lily rode to the celebration with Jay and his little boy, Jackson, who sat in the back and stroked the baby’s hand. When they arrived, Michael quickly scooped Lily out of her seat and held her, awestruck, as if she were already a member of his family. He only put the baby down to eat the favorite foods his mother had prepared.
Holly helped clean up in the kitchen, knowing Lily was safe, surrounded by people who loved her. She found herself wishing Creed were there, then she mentally kicked herself. She barely knew him, and he was in so much trouble . . . yet she’d rather be at the hospital with him than here with her family.
Cathy shot through the kitchen, her phone at her ear, and stepped into the pantry, the only quiet room in the house. Holly couldn’t resist listening.
“Cameron, I hate to bother you tonight, but . . . are you still in Germany?”
Holly turned off the water. Who was Cameron, and what did he have to do with what was happening tonight?
“Great,” Cathy said. “Listen, I have a big favor to ask from you. Huge.” She told him about Michael’s release. “The thing is, I don’t think he’s safe spending the night anywhere his enemies can find him tonight. If word gets out, he could be in danger. Add to that, I’m representing a client who’s a witness against those same people, and I need to put him in a safe place too. I was thinking that your place would fill the bill, if you’d let us borrow it.”
The safe house for Creed. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Holly stepped toward the pantry. Cathy glanced at her, her expression hopeful. “Wonderful. Yes, we’ll water your plants. No problem. Who has the key? Will you let her know I’m getting it? I’ll put it back when we leave.”
When she hung up, Cathy punched the air. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “My friend says they can use his house. He’s in Germany for a month. His sister’s been watching the house, watering his plants, but he said she’d be thrilled not to have to go over there for a few days. There’s a key hidden there on the property, so Michael can stay there tonight. When Creed gets out, he can stay there too.”
“Both of them together?”
“Yeah, I think it’ll be all right.”
It showed a tiny bit of trust in Creed, and Holly appreciated that. She hugged Cathy. “When I grow up, I want to be like you. You’re amazing, you know. You got Michael out, you got Creed immunity, you’ve found a place for them to be safe.”
Cathy waved that off. “You want to be like me? I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”
Holly knew Cathy meant it. “Things are looking up,” she said. “I think your life is about to change.”
Cathy grinned like a little girl. She wasn’t the squealing type, but the joy in her eyes was like that of a four-year-old on Christmas morning.
Holly watched as Cathy went back into the living room and told Michael what she’d arranged, then lifted the sleeping baby. With the child in her arms and Michael smiling next to her, Cathy looked as if motherhood might be the next thing on her priority list, as soon as she was married.
Cathy always did things in the right order, even when it was hard. Holly envied that. When the three sisters had begun talking about the upcoming wedding, Holly remembered the wedding dresses she’d had for her Barbie dolls as a kid—how she’d imagined herself wearing a veil, how she’d wanted to walk down the aisle with her father escorting her.
Now he was in a nursing home, a stranger who didn’t recognize a soul, not even her. And that fairy-tale wedding seemed about as possible as Cinderella’s pumpkin turning into a carriage.
She’d skipped steps and missed the good stuff, to get to some destination that seemed silly now. Yet she had the grace of Lily.
She stepped outside, where earlier Michael’s dad and Max had started a fire in the fire pit. No one else was outside yet, so she picked up a stick, stirred the fire, then sat down in front of it.
She leaned back in the Adirondack chair and gazed up at the sky. What did God think about the goings-on of human beings down here? Was he sick of them, as he’d been before the flood? Did he get discouraged and wonder why he bothered?
“You okay?”
Holly looked behind her. Juliet was coming out. “Yeah. Robbie asleep?”
“Yeah, he drifted off on the couch. What are you thinking about out here alone??
??
“I don’t know,” Holly whispered.
“Creed?” Juliet asked.
For a moment Holly didn’t answer. She looked at Juliet’s face. The orange glow of the fire flickered on it, making her look soft and vulnerable herself. She’d had a horrible year, yet she forged on, never giving up.
“I know you and Cathy are worried about me and Creed,” Holly said. “I don’t really know how I feel. A week ago, I had no feelings for him at all. I didn’t want him to have any part in our lives.”
“And now?”
“He’s not who I thought he was. Just like I’m not who he thought I was. But I realize my gut doesn’t always lead me right.”
Juliet had the grace not to reply.
“I feel drawn to him . . . probably because he’s good with Lily. I can’t dislike anyone who has the good judgment to fall in love with her, but am I thinking so much about him because I long for a family for Lily? A mother and father who are her biggest fans? Or is this something God has worked out to bring us together? Is he giving me some gift I didn’t expect or even ask for?”
Juliet seemed to consider that. “My gut tells me that you need to move very slowly and cautiously. But then, my gut hasn’t always led me right either.”
Holly drew in a long breath. “I look at Cathy and think how wonderful her wedding will be, and how great Michael will be as a husband, and when they have kids, Michael will be there to help her. Things won’t be so hard. Why do I always make things so hard for myself?”
Juliet smiled as if surprised that those words had come out of Holly’s mouth rather than her own.
Holly went on. “Sometimes I look back on my life and try to figure out which decision I made that started my crazy descent . . . if I could just go back to that minute and make a different choice. Maybe I would have gone to college, gotten a career, a decent job. Maybe I would have met a guy and gotten married and had Lily at the right time.”
Juliet took her hand. “Honey, I think what matters is where you are right now, this minute, and what you do from now on.”
“I know, but if I can’t learn from my mistakes, how will I ever teach her?”
“The Bible says that if you ask for wisdom, God will give it without partiality. It’s a promise.”
“I know, but will I use that wisdom he gives me?” she asked with a grin. “Or will I convince myself that my own screechy voice is that wisdom? I have a very loud inner voice.”
“Remember that scripture passage Dad made us memorize when we were little? Philippians 4:6–7?”
Holly hadn’t thought of all that Scripture memorization in years. “Remind me.”
“ ‘Do not be anxious about anything . . .,’ ” Juliet said.
Holly remembered now. “Right. ‘But in every situation, by prayer and petition . . .’ ”
“ ‘With thanksgiving . . .’ ”
“ ‘Present your requests to God,’ ” Holly went on. “ ‘And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.’ ” She nodded. “I can’t believe I still remember that.”
“It’s still in there,” Juliet said. “Dad did leave some legacy, even though he didn’t really live by it later on.”
Holly sighed. “The peace of God. That’s what I never wait for. I want that.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Juliet said. “You felt peace about going through with the pregnancy. Not aborting.”
Holly’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s true. So there have been times when I listened to God’s wisdom instead of mine.”
“You can do it again.” Juliet hugged her. “You’ve grown up, sweetie. I doubted you a few nights ago, but I should have trusted you, because it’s clear you’ve changed. I think you can trust that voice of God in your heart. He’ll give you that peace if you let him lead you. This is hard for me to say, but I trust you to make the right decision this time.”
Juliet went back inside, and Holly stayed there alone, watching the dancing fire. She leaned back again and moved her gaze back to the heavens. “I know I’ve said this before, Lord, but I’m so sorry for all the stupid choices I’ve made. I want to start over, with your guidance. I can’t afford to make mistakes now. Will you turn up the volume on your voice, and turn mine down? Will you give me that wisdom you promised if we ask? And will you help me to make the right decision about how involved to get with Creed?”
She waited for some instant change in her heart, some quick neon sign in the flickering flames. There wasn’t one, but she felt God’s fondness for Creed. Maybe that was a sign that she could get to know him better.
Still, she would be cautious, just in case.
When she went back in the house, everyone was sitting around Cathy and Michael. Cathy still held Lily as she talked about the wedding.
“I don’t want to wait,” Michael was saying. “I want to find somebody to marry us tonight.”
Cathy laughed. “We can’t get married tonight. We need a marriage license.”
Michael groaned. “We should have gone straight to the clerk of court and applied for one the minute I got out.”
“Where would we get married?”
“There, at the courthouse,” Michael said. “The sooner the better.”
“No,” Cathy said. “All this time you’ve been in jail, I’ve been dreaming about the wedding. And in those dreams, I was always walking down the aisle of your church. Maybe that’s why I never booked a venue. I want to get married there.”
Michael’s eyes shimmered, and he touched her chin and turned her face toward him. “I didn’t know you were thinking that way. I thought you wouldn’t even consider my little church.”
Holly knew that Cathy had been feeling the same revulsion against church as she had since their father’s infidelity after years of preaching moral messages in the pulpit. The church’s cruel reaction toward their family had soured them. In adulthood, both Cathy and Holly had strayed from organized religion, but Holly could see that Cathy was coming around.
“Do you mean that?” Michael asked. “You want to get married in my church?”
Cathy swallowed. “Our church. Our pastor can do it.”
He took her face in both his hands and kissed her. Cheers went up around the table. His father and mother were as excited and happy as any of them. “All right,” he said. “We’ll do it whenever you want. Wedding dress, bridal party, reception, the whole works.”
“She already has the dress,” Becky, Michael’s mother, said.
Michael looked over at her. “She does?”
Becky smiled at Cathy, tears in her eyes. “I went with you to try those dresses on, when you were going to marry Joe. I cried when you found the right one, remember? It was so gorgeous.”
“But . . . I can’t wear the dress I was going to wear for Joe.”
“Why not?” Michael asked. “If it’s the dress you dreamed of. I like the idea of Joe being a part of our wedding. He’s still such a huge part of both our lives.”
Holly smiled at Cathy and nodded, and Cathy looked around, taking a silent poll of the expressions on everyone’s faces.
“If you do that, we don’t have to wait months for a dress to come in,” Juliet said.
Cathy’s composure crumbled, and she covered her face. “That’s the dress I’m always wearing in my dreams, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone by wearing it.”
“I think it would be a beautiful way to celebrate this day and honor Joe,” Becky said, and Michael’s father nodded.
“Then it’s done,” Michael said, grabbing a napkin from the table and dabbing his eyes. “So tell me when.”
Cathy was quiet for a moment. “Let’s try to get the Miller thing resolved first, so we can all truly celebrate. But it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and get the marriage license and talk to the pastor about when the church is available.”
The family all cheered and hugged each other. Holly felt Cathy’s joy seeping into her heart, reminding her that ther
e was always hope.
CHAPTER 43
The next morning, Michael met Cathy at the police station, where the governor’s press conference would be held. Michael didn’t know what to expect from his former coworkers, now that they’d learned of his pardon, but he hoped he could get permission to listen in on the questioning of Creed—who’d been released from the hospital that morning.
The moment he stepped into the building, he was surrounded by old friends slapping his back, hugging him, and giving him high fives and fist bumps.
Chief Wilson, Michael’s former boss, waited for everyone to congratulate him, then took him into his office.
“We’re really happy for you, man,” he said. “None of what happened to you was justice.”
Cathy shot Michael a look that reminded him of Wilson’s attitude the day he’d been fired, after his conviction came down. Wilson had taken his weapons and badge . . . effectively ending his career.
But what choice had the chief had?
Cathy hung back at the door, unwilling to enter, as if the office itself would defile her.
“It’s not right,” Wilson said. “We lost two good men, not just Joe. You left a huge void on the force.”
Michael looked at his hands. “Thank you, sir.”
“And when they charged you a few months ago, I personally called the prosecutor and the judge and tried to reason with them. But it went the way it went. I can tell you that morale has been low ever since, and that scumbag Miller still walks free.”
“Well, maybe with Creed Kershaw’s story we can change all that,” Cathy said.
“Let’s hope so,” Wilson said. “I’d like for you to help us with that, Hogan. I want you back on the force.”
Michael hadn’t expected that. He met Cathy’s eyes again. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he could imagine.
“Wow, Chief. That’s very generous.”
“Not at all,” the chief said. “What do you say?”
Michael stared at him for a long moment. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll have to talk it over with Cathy and pray about it. We’ll have to figure out what my future looks like, but I really appreciate the option. What I’d rather do for now is have consultant privileges, so I can work with the PCPD on the Miller case and other cases.”