Chapter 22
Probation

- Part 1: With A Little Help From My Friends -

by TeeJay & Sisterdebmac

TeeJay's Author's Note:
"How do I feel by the end of the day? (Are you sad because you're on fyour own?) No, I get by with a little help from my friends. Mmm, I get high with a little help from my friends. Mmm, I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends." —The Beatles

This chapter started out as a tiny, tiny idea. The beginnings of it were inspired by the Dispatch song "Time Served" (see Author's Notes of Part 2 for more on the song). I started working on it and it grew and grew, and more ideas surfaced as I wrote and discussed it with Deb. I finally released a first, very rough draft to Deb and she took it to whole new levels. Thank you for making this an awesome chapter, girl!

Deb's Author's Note:
I seem to remember the whole thing started from a nagging desire Adam had to do something to help people the way Joan does. I guess the Universe heard him because next thing you know, God appears with an idea for something Adam can do. And we're off.

This one got a little long on us, folks. Hence the need to break it into parts.

And thanks to all the readers of Butterflies, especially those of you who have reviewed it. We couldn't do this without you.

In this story, we mention several real charitable organizations. You can find more information on their respective websites. Big Brothers & Big Sisters can be found at: www-bbbs-org. FHA/HUD: www-hud-gov. Fannie Mae: www-fanniemae-com, and Habitat For Humanity: www-habitat-org.

Chapter Synopsis:
An assignment from God has Adam take a job as art teacher at Hogan Juvy, helping out a friend along the way.

Synopsis for Part 1:
When Joan shares her latest assignment with Adam, he offers to help out. However, Joan isn't exactly thrilled with the idea.

Rating For Chapter: PG-13 for strong language, violence & adult themes.

Rating for Part 1: PG

Disclaimer:
These characters and settings are not ours. Nor are we claiming they are. They are property of CBS, Barbara Hall Productions, Sony or whoever else they might belong to. We're not making any money out of this, although that would be really cool.

"Chicken wings, definitely feel like chicken wings. I'm thinking Honey BBQ, or maybe Cajun," Adam said as he held the door open for Joan to enter Wings & Things on their lunch break.

She put her fingers to her lips. "I think it's more of a catfish day for me."

The nametag on the young girl's yellow and blue t-shirt said Caitlin, Adam and Joan followed her to the table by the window that she showed them. Just as Joan was about to sit down, a familiar looking gray-haired man in a blue jumpsuit walked by their table. Not even having taken her jacket off, Joan said to Adam, "Excuse me a minute."

He first gave her a bit of a confused frown, then figured she probably just needed a potty break. Before she left, she said to Adam, "Get me a half and half iced tea, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking another look at the menu.

She followed the janitor to the back of the restaurant where the restrooms were. When they were out of earshot of any customers or personnel, He stopped and turned around. "Hello Joan, it's nice to see you still recognize me like this. It's been a while."

She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. The last time you showed up looking like this was in high school. No, wait, I think there was that one time in the hotel in Florida. The maid who was being abused?"

"I see your memory's still good," He dryly commented.

"So, what's this about?" she asked.

"Oh, right to the chase, huh?"

"With your kind permission, of course," she snarked. "I only have 45 minutes to spend with my husband-to-be for lunch, so I'd like to make this quick, if you don't mind."

"All right," He agreed. "You remember Jamal?"

"The kid who did the mural on our shed wall? Of course I do."

"Make sure he is getting what he needs."

Joan looked at Him, waiting for a forthcoming explanation or instructions. When she didn't get any, she said exasperatedly, "What is that supposed to mean? We paid him for the great work he did. Are you saying the hundred bucks we gave him wasn't enough?"

Janitor-God just gave her one of His knowing looks. She sighed. "Okay, so you're not saying that. And you're not gonna tell me anything more about it either. I get it."

"You'll know what to do," He said with conviction in His voice.

She nodded, and when her eyes fell on Adam, sitting at the table in the distance, she suddenly had a thought. "Would it be okay to ask Adam for help? I mean, now that he knows... you know... about you. He has a much better connection to Jamal than I do."

After Caitlin took the drink orders, Adam was left staring at the menu. He decided on the Cajun chicken wings meal deal but would have to wait for Joan to come back to order their food. His eyes wandered around the room, studying the other customers. There were a few people in business clothes, probably also on their lunch breaks, he mused.

Then his eyes fell upon the hallway to the restrooms and caught on Joan talking to a stranger. No, not a stranger. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but Adam couldn't really place him. He was dressed like a janitor, but Adam still had no idea where he might have seen him before. He could usually rely on his photographic memory to remember most visual cues, but very often he had problems connecting them to situations that were associated with them. Like other people showing you their vacation pictures—you would take in the scenery but you couldn't explain the circumstances of how and why the picture was taken.

He racked his brain as to where he might have seen the guy before. At work? He couldn't come up with anything. And then it hit him. He couldn't imagine why Joan would talk to a stranger in a janitor's uniform, unless it was... Him. Could it be that that's why he looked familiar? Must be. Adam's eyes never left the two of them as they continued to talk.

"Joan, you can ask anyone for help that you want to. I never said you couldn't," Janitor-God told Joan.

"You never said I could either."

"Do what you think is best. That's what you've been doing all along, isn't it?"

She resigned to her fate. He was not going to tell her anything more than He had to, as usual. "All right, I'll check up on Jamal. Now, would you mind if I had lunch with Adam?"

He gave her a smile. "Enjoy your meal."

With those words He walked away, giving her a wave over His shoulder. Joan stood there for a few seconds before she went back to join Adam at the table.

As soon as she sat down and began wrestling her way out of her jacket, he asked, "Did you just talk to God?"

Joan's eyes darted around nervously, wondering if anyone within earshot might have heard Adam's question. "Adam, I don't think we should talk about this in public. Imagine someone overhearing that."

He became a little more self-conscious. "Sorry," he said, lowering his voice. "So, did you?"

"Yes."

"What did He say?"

Her voice was getting a little impatient. "Look, can we order first? I'm really hungry."

He tried not to show the disappointment at her rather direct rebuttal. Did she not want to share it with him? Was she feeling uncomfortable about it all of a sudden? Did it involve him in the end? "Yeah, sure," he said. "Have you already chosen?"

She scanned the menu. "I don't know. Didn't I say catfish? The meal deal sounds good."

Just then, as if on cue, Caitlin came back to the table to bring their drinks. They ordered their meals, Caitlin bustled off and Joan sipped at her iced tea, then drew a face. "Did you order a half and half?"

"Yes, why?"

"This is unsweet."

"It is?"

"Yes, it is," she said pointedly. "What, you think I'm lying?"

He looked at her. "Jane, what's wrong? Why are you on edge?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I don't know why I'm irritated all of a sudden. Maybe because He was being as vague as always. Maybe because right now I'm starving and I have a headache and I don't really feel like running errands I don't have time for, much less when I'm not sure where to start."

"If you'll tell me what He said, maybe I can help. Brainstorm. Or research."

"All right." She repeated her conversation with God to him.

When she finished, he rubbed his eyebrow, trying to figure out what God might have meant. "Okay, well, I can give Jamal a call later. He gave me his cell phone number. I'll try to find out what this is all about. How's that for a start?"

She gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, that sounds good."

He reached across the table and took her hand where it rested on her napkin. He stroked it softly, then squeezed it. "We'll handle this one together."

She was just in the process of lifting both their hands and kissing his fingers when their food arrived.

"Hello?"

Adam was a bit surprised when someone other than Jamal answered his cell phone. A female someone. It took him a second to respond. "Oh, uhm, I was trying to reach Jamal."

"Who's this?" the female voice asked.

"Uh, Adam. Adam Rove."

"Oh, Adam, hello," she said sounding happy to hear his voice. "How are you?"

His brow creased in momentary confusion, then it hit him. "Mrs. Morgan?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Could I speak to Jamal?"

"No, I'm afraid that's not possible." Her voice had a sad tinge to it.

A tiny jolt suddenly went through Adam's heart. She wasn't saying that he was... His train of thought was interrupted by Jamal's mother when she said, "He's in jail. He got nine months this time. He might get out in six or seven with good behavior."

"Oh." Adam didn't really know what to say at first. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can I ask where he is?"

"Same as last time, Hogan County Juvenile Corrections."

A few numb seconds passed before he asked, "Do you think it'd be okay if I visited?"

That seemed to cheer her up a bit. "It's okay by me. I can't say how Jamal might feel about it. He gets all moody in there, tries to act like a tough guy. I guess you kind of have to, to survive. But I do know he really liked you. Just don't be surprised if he's embarrassed for you to see him up there."

"You think I should go?"

"I'd appreciate it of you would. Maybe it'll light a fire under him. He was so excited about that mural of yours, he kept talking about it for days. He's not really a thug, you know. He's just mixed up with the wrong crowd. Maybe it'd do him some good for you to go see him locked up. Maybe you can talk to him, tell him that there's a lot more out there than stealing cars and robbing houses. Make him believe that he really can do something with his art. He's turning 17 soon. Next time he's arrested, there won't be no juvenile court or baby jail. Next time, he goes to the penitentiary."

Adam gulped. He couldn't stand the idea of Jamal ending up in a real prison with hardened criminals. Or worse, dead on the street somewhere. "I'll talk to him, Mrs. Morgan. I don't know how much help I can be, but I'll do my best. I promise."

"Thank you," she said.

Before he hung up, he told her he'd be in touch after seeing Jamal. He considered calling Joan, but he figured this might be a conversation they should have in person, maybe over dinner. He leaned back in his office chair and folded his hands behind his neck, looking at the ceiling.

Maybe he should talk to Brody too. He had worked with the kid at the community center after he was released from Juvy the first time. Maybe Brody could shed some light on how to talk to Jamal. But he wanted to talk it over with Joan first, then he would decide on a further strategy.

When Adam got to the house from work, Joan was already home. He found her cleaning the bathroom. Where she found the energy to do chores after a full day at work, he didn't know.

She smiled at him standing in the doorway. "Hey honey, how was your day?"

"Oh, uh, okay. The usual. Listen, you got a minute?"

"Is it urgent? I was about to mop the floor, can I finish that?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. Need any help?"

"No, I'm almost finished."

She joined him downstairs in the kitchen ten minutes later, stealing a bite of the leftover slice of pizza he had just gotten out of the fridge to snack on. "What's up?" she asked.

"I called Jamal today, but I got his mom on the phone. He's back in jail."

That took Joan a little by surprise. "Oh. Well... that's not good."

"No," he sighed.

She pondered the information for a moment, then said, "Okay, so what does that mean? God told me to make sure Jamal gets what he needs. Is he inside for something he didn't do? Are we supposed to get him a lawyer?"

"Slow down, we don't really know anything yet."

"Did his mother say why he's in jail?"

"No, she only said he's serving nine months. Last time it was burglary, it's probably something like that again. She mentioned stealing cars. Jane, she's really worried about him. She wants me to talk to him, apparently I made a good impression."

"Will you?"

"I owe him that much. I was also thinking about asking Brody for advice since he works with the kids at the community center."

"Good idea."

She was quiet for a moment and he looked at her. "Something wrong?"

"No. I don't know. This feels weird."

"Why?"

"Because you're doing my assignment."

"How's that wrong?"

"I don't know," she said again. "I feel like I should be doing something more."

"Wouldn't God interfere if you went wrong, if involving me wasn't the right thing to do?" he asked.

"No. No, it's more likely He'd stand back and let me mess it all up on my own. The free will thing, remember? He gives me the assignments, but what I do with them is up to me."

"And has it ever gone wrong?" he challenged her.

"Your sculpture?"

"Oh yeah."

"He knew what I was gonna do before I did and He didn't stop me then."

"But you still did what He asked you to do. You kept me from quitting school."

"Yeah, at what cost?"

He took hold of her upper arms and rubbed them gently. "I'm sure we're on the right track here. Let me take some of the load off your shoulders on this one. I want to help, okay?"

She gave him a smile. "Okay."

"I'll call Hogan tomorrow, ask about visiting times."

"Sounds good."

Adam would be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated. The concrete building, the bulky, heavily-armed guards, the cold and uninviting atmosphere; The Hogan County Juvenile Correctional Facility looked just like the prisons in the movies, and he wasn't sure if he should find that frightening or reassuring.

He fought to swallow down his initial anxiety, telling himself he was only visiting and he'd be back in the fresh air of the outside world soon. He had no idea what to expect from seeing Jamal. Would he appreciate the unexpected visit? Would he be able to get through to him? It scared him to think that it might already be too late for Jamal to get back on the right track.

Drawing in a deep breath, he slammed the Forester's door shut and walked up to the visitor's entrance. For a fleeting second he wished he had accepted Joan's offer to come with him, but he had insisted it would be better if he went alone.

After he told the guard on duty who he was there to see, he was buzzed in and searched for any sensitive items that were not allowed inside. When they found none, he was directed through bleak corridors to a just-like-in-the-movies visitor's room with a few tables and chairs where young men in light blue scrubs sat, talking with their moms or dads or sweethearts.

Adam' scanned the room for Jamal, and found him at a table in the corner. When he walked up, he could see the surprise on Jamal's face.

"You? You're my visitor?" Jamal asked.

"Yep." Adam sat down opposite him.

"What are you doing here?" It didn't sound very inviting.

"Hello to you too," Adam quipped, hoping the sarcasm would lighten up the atmosphere a little.

Jamal just leaned back in his chair, a cool and almost calculating expression on his face, saying nothing.

Adam drew in a breath. This was gonna be difficult. What could he say to break the ice? "So, how are they treating you in here?"

Jamal tried his best to look stoic. "All right."

Adam waited for more, but apparently that was all he was going to get. He looked for another way in. After a moment, he said, "Joan says hi. You know, she really loves the mural. Every time we look at it, we get lost in it. We just keep seeing new things."

"Oh yeah?" Jamal's face remained neutral.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Adam asked the next question. "Are you working on your art in here? Did they ever find a new teacher?"

"Nah, man. All I do in here is mop floors and fold laundry and shit."

"You're not taking art because there's no teacher, or…?"

Jamal merely folded his arms over his chest and leaned back.

Adam couldn't suppress a sigh. "Jamal, come on, help me out here."

"Help you with what, man?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

Jamal's expression became more provocative. "Why? What do you want from me? What's up with this little pity visit? You expect me to believe you care or something?"

Adam bristled, leaning forward in his seat. "You might not wanna believe it, but yeah, I do care. Why are you back in here?" He let the question hang in the air for a second or two before he went on, "I thought you told me Brody screwed your head back on straight. What the hell happened?"

"Guess I kinda messed up."

Adam pondered this for a moment. So Jamal was actually guilty, whatever had happened. God's assignment was not about Jamal being in Juvy for something he hadn't done. "How?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear this, but I came to help."

"Who says I need your help?" Jamal fell back into sarcasm. "I got everything I need, don't I? Great food, loving friends, plenty of exercise. What more could I possibly want?"

Okay, this was going absolutely nowhere. How could he do anything if he didn't know what the situation was? And Jamal seemed to have no interest in opening up about it. He was nearing his wit's end. He knew there was no way to get the kid to talk if he really didn't want to. He stood and drew his business card out of his back pocket, putting it on the table between them. "If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."

Jamal leaned back again, deliberately ignoring the card. "Yeah, whatever."

Adam nodded slowly and turned away from him. He had accomplished exactly nothing by coming here. He was certain that Jamal would either leave his card right there on the table, untouched. Or he'd rip it up the second he was gone. Hopefully, Jamal's cold demeanor was just an act.

Outside the visitor's room, Adam hesitated. Jamal hadn't answered his question about the art class. He couldn't leave without knowing whatever happened with it.

Filled with new purpose, he went back to the desk at the visitor's entrance, and addressed the guard. "Excuse me? If I wanted to talk to someone about the graphic arts program here, who would I ask?"

The guy looked at him uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, then it seemed to come to him. "Mr. O'Connell, I think."

"Oh, is he here? Can I speak to him?"

"I'll see if he's available." The guard took out a folder that looked like a list of internal telephone numbers. He dialed a number and had words with the person on the other end. After a minute, he held the phone away from his ear and addressed Adam again. "There's a phone there on the wall, I'll transfer Mr. O'Connell to you."

Adam thanked him and walked over to the phone, lifting the receiver just as the call went through. "Mr. O'Connell?"

"Yes," came a voice from the other end.

"My name is Adam Rove and I was wondering if you were still looking for a teacher for your graphic arts class."

There was a short silence, then Mr. O'Connell answered, "We were planning to discontinue it actually because no one seemed interested in the position."

"I might be."

"May I ask how you heard about it? We stopped advertising for the position a while ago."

"It's... it's kind of a long story, to be honest," Adam admitted. "What would I have to do to apply?"

"Tell you what, Mr. Rove, let me send someone to bring you to my office and we can continue this discussion in person."

A guard escorted Adam down a long hallway to a row of administrative offices near the front of the complex. When he entered, Mr. O'Connell stood and offered his hand. He was a stout looking man in his mid-forties, Adam guessed. He offered Adam a seat and Adam proceeded to explain how he knew about the art class and why he would like to apply for the teaching job. They talked about some of his preliminary ideas, and what would be expected of Adam if he took the job. Adam's first impression was very positive. And O'Connell seemed to like the cut of his jib too. Or they were just that desperate for a teacher.

When they finished talking after twenty minutes, Mr. O'Connell saw him out, shaking his hand again. "Well, Mr. Rove, I think we might have just found ourselves a new graphic arts teacher. Just e-mail me with your resume. We'll do a background check and if everything works out, we'll have you back in next week for an orientation meeting with the correctional programs director and the head CO"

"Thank you," Adam replied. "I'll send it right away."

As he walked back to the car, Adam wondered what Joan would say. He really had no idea. What he was pretty sure about was that she would understand his desire to do something to help others. But just maybe she would be a little put off by the fact that it was in prison. He was already working on how to break the news to her the gentlest way possible.

"No," Joan said flatly.

"No?" he repeated.

"Doesn't matter how you spin it. It's too dangerous."

"Jane, there'll be a guards right outside the room at all times."

"So?"

"So, it's okay. It's safe."

"Don't do this."

He leaned forward across the kitchen table, his hands lying palms-up on the tabletop, begging. "Jane—"

She leaned back, away from him, exasperation on her face. "Why would you take a job in a prison without even asking me?"

His defenses went up. "I didn't realize I needed your permission."

"It's not about that. Don't be petty. Adam, I really don't want you to do this. It terrifies me."

He took a breath, trying to calm himself down. Escalating the situation wasn't going to help matters, so he made himself very still and looked her right in the eye. "Will you just hear me out?"

She melted under his gaze. Finally, she nodded reluctantly.

"First of all, I haven't taken the job yet. I mean, yes, I guess it's mine if I want it. But I wasn't gonna just accept it without seeing if you're okay with it."

"I am very not okay with it!" she interjected.

He shushed her. "Hear. Me. Out." He watched her fold her arms in front of her chest, and raise her eyes defiantly to the ceiling. Still, he picked up right where he left off and carried on in his most convincing manner, "Secondly, this is the only way I can think of to get through to Jamal. That's what God wants, right?"

She shrugged at him.

He persevered. "He totally blew me off today. I have no idea how to reach him except through his art." He paused for a moment, locking eyes with her again. "I can do this, Jane. You just gotta have a little faith in me. I know it won't be easy, but when are God's assignments ever easy for you?"

She visibly wavered at that question. Her features softened a little. She released the breath she'd been holding. "Just for a minute, let's assume we agree on you doing this, you swear to me that it's safe? That you'll be careful?"

"Absolutely."

She studied him for several seconds, trying to imagine him in front of a roomful of guys twice as big as him and a hundred times meaner. Of course she had no idea who the "artistic" kids were in juvenile lock-up. She tried to comfort herself by imagining them as Adam with a few more bad breaks. That was kind of how she saw Jamal.

"If we agree on this, how's it gonna work? You can't just leave the studio during your normal working hours, can you? How often would you have to go there?"

"When I talked to Mr. O'Connell, we agreed on an 8-week trial program at first. Two hours every Sunday afternoon."

Joan visibly narrowed her eyes. "Sunday afternoon," she repeated. "Great. There goes our alone time. You wanna lose the only real time we get to spend together? Can't you do this during the week, after work or something?"

He had to try hard not to get irritated. "No, I can't. This is when they want to do it. It's not in my control." He reached across the table now and took her hand, speaking very carefully to make it clear to her. "Jane, this is really important to me." He paused, waiting, but she didn't budge. "You don't honestly think I'd give up spending all day Sunday with you for just any old thing, do you?"

He gave her a crooked, suggestive smile and that got her attention. She returned it and squeezed his hand. They both relaxed a little. "You know, it's not just Jamal. These few past weeks, I've been thinking a lot about this. I mean, not this specifically, but just..."

He drew in a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "Ever since you told me about talking to God, it's been nagging at me. I didn't really understand it at first, but I kept thinking about how you do all these wonderful things, help people, create good ripples. And what do I do?"

There was confusion on her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I want to be like you someday, you're my hero. I mean, I... I just work and enjoy my little world here at home with you, hanging out, doing my art, trying to learn how to be a good husband in time for the wedding," he teased.

She smiled. He finally made her smile. "And you are wonderful at all of those things," she told him.

"Yeah, but what am I giving back to the world?"

She was flummoxed. She had no idea he felt that way, but it suddenly made sense to her why he would want the job so badly. It took her a few seconds to come up with an answer. "Adam, you've done a lot of good. You already created good ripples for Jamal once."

"Yeah, but I know that I can do more. And I want to. Maybe it's crazy, but you know, your mom did something really amazing for me when I really needed it. She kept me from giving up. And I don't mean just once. And now I have the perfect opportunity to maybe do something like that for someone else, you know? Those kids are just existing in there. Maybe it would mean something for someone to just encourage them not to quit."

She leaned forward, now taking both of his hands in hers. "Boy, you know all my buttons, don't you?"

A smile slowly spread over his lips. "So...?"

"So I can't really argue with that."

"Then, you're okay with it?"

She nodded, still a little reluctantly. "I guess I have to be."

"Even if it interferes with our alone time?"

"We'll work around that. I'll move the Saturday errands to Sunday while you're gone and we'll get a few hours back that we wouldn't have on that day. We'll just have to do our best to make the most of the time we actually have together."

He looked at her with a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "I promise to make the compromise worth your while."

"Oh, you bet you will."

He rose and leaned over to kiss her, whispering, "Thank you."

When he sat back down, she said, "Tell me more about the job itself. What exactly will you be doing?"

"They don't have a formal lesson plan and I'm not sure what kind of art the students are gonna be into. But I do have some ideas about some things we could do." He told her all about things he thought he could draw on from Helen's art class and his college courses. He'd have to do some digging in old school notes, but he was very excited about the whole thing.

Joan chimed in with a few ideas of her own, too. He got a pad of paper and scribbled several pages of notes as they talked. It ended up being like a brainstorming session of sorts, and he felt very confident by the end of it that this might just turn out to be a really cool project.

END PART ONE