Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Josh Lewis, Cassie Layne Winslow Lewis, Gus/Nicky Aitoro, Phillip Spaulding, Frank Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Thank you to all who continue to follow this story. And for those of you who take the time to comment, please know how very much I appreciate it. I've attempted to respond to each of your wonderful comments individually, but if I missed anyone, know that it wasn't intentional. Finally, thanks to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. As always, I appreciate you, and I owe you—BIG TIME!
Rating: Overall, Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for some sexual situations and strong language. This particular update is rated PG-13.
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
Unknown
Chapter 14.9 – Trials and Tribulations:
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—9:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Since Rafe's release from prison, he and Josh had spent small fragments of time together, gradually learning to be comfortable in one another's presence. They had played catch in the field to the west of the farmhouse the previous Saturday, and had lunch on one of Josh's construction sites on Monday, after his ill-fated meeting with Olivia. And the following Tuesday afternoon, they had gone hiking in the woods behind the farmhouse—an activity that Josh thought would allow the boy to release some pent-up energy, as well as give them both a decent workout.
Perched on the edge of that familiar old porch, Josh had fashioned two sturdy walking sticks from tree limbs that had fallen during a recent springtime thunderstorm. Once finished, he folded the antique pocket knife that he had inherited from his daddy, shoving it into the front pocket of his faded jeans. And then he handed one of the sticks to Rafe. "Ready?" he queried.
"Uh, sure," Rafe cautiously agreed. The boy looked positively stricken. The mere idea of a nature walk made him cringe. They didn't have "woods" where he came from—just concrete and pavement. And trees grew in the middle of the sidewalk, where someone cut big holes and plopped them—at least in the fancy part of the city. Not in Rafe's neck of the concrete jungle.
Josh simply chuckled, and gave Rafe a hearty slap on the back. "Come on, it'll be fun."
Rafe offered a wobbly grin in response, and reluctantly allowed Josh to lead him across the fields, toward the edge of the woods. He hadn't a clue what to expect, but being a city boy at heart, he was certain he wasn't going to like it.
Having lived there when he was married to Cassie, Josh knew the property surrounding the farmhouse like the back of his hand, and he led Rafe with precision along the path that would give him the most opportunity to experience nature at its finest. As he knew it would, wildlife abounded—squirrels and chipmunks chattering about their daily business, and raccoons scampering about, as if on some life-altering mission. There were bunnies everywhere. Little baby ones, too. And a few turtles and lizards along the way. At one point, a little red fox darted across their path, and the entire way, the air was filled with the melodious songs of every kind of bird imaginable.
As they walked, their conversation came in fits and starts, the way Josh had imagined it would in the beginning. But he was a patient man, and he understood the ways of an angry teenaged boy—he had already raised one of those, after all. Rafe was no different, really. He just had different reasons for being angry. And what he needed was unconditional acceptance of his feelings—not validation, but acceptance—until he could find his way out of the anger.
As they emerged from the thicket at the back perimeter of the property, they spotted a handful of doe with their fawns near the edge of the tree line that skirted the hillside, marking the boundary between the old Jessup Farm and the neighboring property. Stopped in his tracks, Rafe stood there, motionless, as he watched them. They were beautiful. So graceful, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from them.
Josh knew the look on Rafe's face, well. He had worn it himself once upon a time—that look of complete and utter awe upon one's first glimpse of these sweet, graceful creatures. No other creature in the woodlands evoked that type of initial response. Crossing his arms over his toned chest, he smiled, and settled on a nearby rock, allowing Rafe all the time he wanted to take in the sight of them.
And when they finally moved on, it didn't surprise Josh one bit that Rafe's conversation had found a new focus. Patiently, he listened and answered questions, and willingly offered tutelage about the animals, and their characteristics and habitats, when the opportunity presented itself.
Coming across the stream that meandered through the backwoods around the farm, they followed it along for a good distance; their conversation flowing more easily now.
"I won't say that your dad and I were close, but I knew him pretty well," Josh said when the subject of Gus arose midway through their trek back toward the farmhouse. Stooping down at the edge of the stream, he pointed out a school of minnows along the far edge, and a few crawdads that were gathered near an embedded rock. "We tossed a line or two together, down at Cross Creek on occasion."
Grounding the walking stick that he held in his right hand, Rafe crouched down next to Josh. With his left forearm slung across his thigh, he leaned forward, surveying the creatures with interest. Being a city boy, this nature thing was new to him, and albeit begrudgingly, he had to admit that he was enjoying it. "Yeah, I know my dad liked to fish," he said wistfully. "He promised to take me sometime, but… we never got the chance."
Delivered on a strangled whisper, the final portion of Rafe's comment tugged at Josh's heart. "That must've been really tough on you, Rafe," he said gently. He purposely didn't make eye contact—a show of respect for the boy's privacy. "Losing your dad so suddenly like that." He remembered how tough it had been to lose his own daddy—and he had been a grown man. Honestly, he couldn't fathom how hard it must have been on Rafe, losing Gus so young, and after knowing him for such a short time. It was no wonder the kid was so lost.
"Yeah," Rafe replied gruffly, as he struggled to hold back tears. Oh, what he would have given for more time with his dad! Time to really get to know him, to learn from him, to be more like him. Time to apologize for being such an ass when they first met.
He hadn't wanted a father then. Hadn't wanted any male authority figure. Who needed that, after all? He had turned out just fine without it! And he hadn't wanted that interference, especially with the time he had with his mother. But slowly, he had grown accustomed to having two parents, and found that he actually craved it. He craved the influence Gus had over his life. He craved the time they spent together, just talking. He simply craved his father's presence in his world.
And then it was gone, by no fault of his own, and he was set adrift in the pain of losing something he hadn't even realized he wanted—until it was too late.
Briefly, he wondered if he would ever feel anything even remotely like that when it came to Olivia's presence, her influence, in his life. But he quickly brushed that aside, his thoughts returning to Gus.
A lifetime to spend with his father would have been the ultimate, of course, and that was what he deserved. But he would have given anything for just a few more hours—just for a chance to ask him the questions that burned in his soul. The most important question being, would Gus approve of his mother's relationship with Olivia? Somehow, everything always came back to her. Part of him resented that. And part of him wondered why.
He had asked that question at Gus's grave when he visited the week prior, but he hadn't received an answer. Not that he had really expected to. And he wondered if it really mattered anyway. Regardless of how anyone else felt, it was obvious the two of them weren't going to give in. And so there he was, a convicted felon with a dead father, and a woman he hated, trying to fill his father's shoes. Fuck his life. God, he missed his dad. He would give anything just for enough time to tell him that.
Sensing the magnitude of Rafe's pain, Josh placed a steady hand on the boy's shoulder. "He loved you a lot, Rafe," he shared. "And he was sorry he missed out on so much of your life."
Rafe looked at him, eyes glistening with tears. "He said that?" His voice was an amalgam of skepticism and hopefulness.
"Yes, he did," Josh confirmed. "And he also said he was proud to call you his son."
"Really?" Rafe looked surprised. And then the sudden light in his eyes faded. "I bet he wouldn't say that now," he murmured.
Josh squeezed Rafe's shoulder in a show of support. "I think you'd be surprised," he said.
"Why's that?"
Josh's sincere blue gaze met Rafe's dark, questioning one, the lesson of the prodigal son fresh at the forefront of his thoughts. "Because a true father's love doesn't falter, even when his son's behavior does."
Nodding, Rafe suddenly found the rushing of the stream rather interesting. "Does that go for mothers, too?" he asked, almost hesitantly.
"Hasn't your mother's love and support this past year already answered that for you?" Josh asked rhetorically.
Drawing in a deep breath, Rafe slowly released it. And then he nodded again. "Yeah, I guess it does."
As Rafe awaited Josh's arrival on Wednesday morning, he thought back to that conversation. As much as he had wanted to hate the guy, he simply found that he couldn't. Josh had been kind, genuine, even supportive. And he hadn't tried to "fix" things, or sway Rafe's emotions with platitudes. Rafe appreciated that most of all.
And Josh had even mentioned taking him fishing and hunting at that place called Cross Creek—where Gus had fished. Begrudgingly, Rafe had allowed himself to be intrigued, though he knew he couldn't really hunt, not being allowed around firearms, and all. Plus, after encountering the wildlife the way he had, Rafe couldn't imagine harming any of them anyway.
But it intrigued him, nonetheless, as he had never gone hunting or fishing before. Latino kids who grew up on the South side of Chicago didn't do things like hunt or fish. Unless, they were "hunting" for drugs, or "fishing" for trouble. And Rafe had never really had any interest in either. But somehow—at this point, he couldn't even figure out how—he had ended up in juvenile detention, and his life had gone downhill from there. He wondered briefly how it was that his mother had managed to continue loving him—and then Josh's words reverberated in his mind: a true father's love doesn't falter, even when his son's behavior does. Josh had said that went for mothers, too.
"Hey, what do you say we go take a look at those plans for your new apartment?" Josh said, interrupting his thoughts. He had just arrived at the farmhouse, and was walking toward the front porch where Rafe was waiting for him. "Your mom said you can have whatever you want—flooring, paint, fixtures…"
"Yeah?" Rafe snapped. "At whose expense?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it still burned him that Olivia's money was paying the way for him and his mother.
Josh shrugged noncommittally, though he knew the answer. "I just do the work," he said. His heavy boots made a thudding noise as he stepped up onto the familiar porch. "I don't care who writes the check."
"I hate that Olivia Spencer is footing the bill for work done in my Ma's house," Rafe grumbled. "She'll use it against her once she's finished using her for… whatever it is she's getting out of this." He shuddered to think about it.
Knowing that his relationship with Rafe was still tentative, at best, Josh knew he shouldn't push when it came to the subject of Olivia. Slow and steady was the answer, until he gained the boy's trust. "Look at it this way," he said; deliberately diverting attention away from Olivia. "The house will be worth significantly more, if your ma ever decides to sell."
Rafe shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you have a point." He appreciated the fact that Josh hadn't attempted to defend Olivia. Perhaps he had been wrong about the guy's motives for helping him. Maybe he wasn't wrapped around Olivia's little finger. "But I still don't want to work on the apartment right now. I mean, if that's okay."
Josh gave Rafe a supportive slap on the back. "Yeah, it's fine," he said. "We could always collaborate on Emma's tree house first," he suggested. Knowing that Rafe really cared for Emma, he thought perhaps that could be his way of truly connecting with the boy.
Nodding, Rafe fought to stifle the grin that threatened at the edges of his lips. "Yeah, I'm down with that," he said, with an air of casualness he did not feel. Truth was, the idea actually excited him. Growing up in the city, he had always dreamed of a secret hideaway—a place where he could sit and dream of the future he always wanted. One where his Ma wouldn't have to work three jobs, and he had a chance to go to college.
In that moment, all Rafe could see was that he owed Emma for being such a jerk the other day, and the idea of giving her a part of his childhood dream sounded like a nice way to make things up to her. It didn't even dawn on him that his dream was right there in front of him, and he was ignoring its presence simply because it hadn't come in the package he had expected.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… The Springfield Courthouse—9:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Instantly, Grayson was out of his chair. It groaned out an unexpected screech as he pushed it back toward the wall behind him. "Your Honor, this is preposterous!" he exclaimed in response to Reynolds' unsubstantiated allegations. "Other than the previously referenced incident where she was provoked, Miss Jackson doesn't have a single blemish on her record. Not even a parking ticket!" He knew, because he had run a thorough background check on her as part of his preparations for the case.
"That's because the charges hadn't been filed yet," Reynolds reported, an air of haughtiness in his tone. "But a warrant was issued first thing this morning, Your Honor, and I have officers waiting just outside this courtroom to arrest her as soon as these proceedings are concluded."
"Mr. Reynolds, if this some sort of stunt, I am not amused," Judge Thomas said tiredly.
"I can assure you, Your Honor, it isn't," Reynolds insisted. Flipping through his briefcase, he pulled another file. Opening it, he slowly assessed the contents. "According to a complaint filed with the Springfield Police Department, Special Victims Unit on Monday, June 15, 2009, on Friday, December 5, 2003, while attending a frat party at Springfield University, Tracy Jackson did forcefully grab and sexually assault a minor, a Miss…" he feigned perusal of the paperwork, "a Miss Antoinette Martin, age sixteen. Miss Jackson was eighteen years of age at the time."
Genuinely shocked, Tracy looked at Jen again, and shaking her head, silently mouthed, "I don't even know who that is." Over and over again, she turned the name "Antoinette" over in her mind, but she still couldn't place it with a face. Upon hearing it a second time, it had seemed oddly familiar to her, but she hadn't a clue as to why. The remainder of the details eluded her, so shocked was she by the allegations.
Reaching over, Jen grasped Tracy's hand, squeezing it gently. She didn't need to say anything. Instinctively, Tracy knew that Jen believed her.
Judge Thomas's gaze never left the two of them as she listened to Reynolds' continued accusations—the rattling off of a laundry list of charges. Something just didn't set right about this. She could feel it. And the expression on Preston Morgan's face confirmed it. But she couldn't quite place her finger on it. Yet...
Banging her gavel authoritatively, Judge Thomas called order to the court. Instantaneously, the low rumble of voices ceased, leaving in its wake an anesthetized hush. And then things began to move rapidly. Her first priority was to protect the children from any potential threat. "Is there a social worker assigned to this case?"
"No, Your Honor," Reynolds reported. "We've requested assignment, but they're backed up over there, as usual." He made it sound like an overly common hindrance to his important work.
"That's simply not acceptable. They need to get their asses in gear," Judge Thomas barked, as if her censure would somehow change the glacial pace of the bureaucratic process. "I want Gwen Matthews on this. Tell her I won't take no for an answer."
Gwen Matthews was the director of DCFS, the Department of Children and Family Services, for Sangamon County, where Springfield was located, and she had more integrity than any person Bennett Thomas had ever met. She truly cared about the children she was sworn to protect, and she was known to toss aside the bureaucratic bullshit when necessary, as she worked feverishly as an advocate for them, both in the courtroom and out. Since the judge couldn't involve herself personally in any ongoing investigation without jeopardizing her judicial control over the case, she knew that Gwen was the next best person for the job. And she knew these boys and their mothers would be safe in her care.
"I'll contact her, Your Honor," Grayson offered courteously. A preemptive strike on his part, lest Reynolds get to her first.
"Very well. Thank you, Mr. McAlister." Judge Thomas turned her attention to Jen then. "Mrs. Morgan?"
Immediately, Jen was on her feet. "Yes, Your Honor?"
"I'm assigning a social worker named Gwen Matthews to act as a liaison for your sons within the family court system," the judge explained. "With her present, I would like to have a special investigator speak with them about any possibility that they might have been abused, sexually or otherwise."
Jen looked terrified. "They weren't, Your Honor," she insisted. "I promise you."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Judge Thomas's mouth. She empathized with this woman's situation, but she had a job to do. "I understand that you want to have faith in your fiancée, Mrs. Morgan. But please understand, I have to do what is necessary to ensure the safety and well-being of your sons. Surely, you want that, as well."
Nodding, Jen answered, "Yes, Ma'am, I do." Her gaze shifted to Tracy for a moment, and then back to the judge. "I… would it be possible for me to be there, as well?"
"It's natural to want to protect your children, Mrs. Morgan," Judge Thomas empathized. "But it's better if you allow the investigator to handle it alone. Children are more likely to be truthful if they don't feel pressured not to disappoint someone they love," she explained. She paused for a moment, allowing her words to take root. And then she added, "But I can't stop you from attending."
"May I meet the investigator and social worker beforehand, and make my decision then?"
"Yes, of course," Judge Thomas granted.
Numbly, Jen nodded her head in agreement.
"I know this is difficult, Mrs. Morgan," the judge empathized. "I promise they'll be as gentle as possible with your children."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Jen said quietly, before taking her seat next to Tracy.
Thinking several steps ahead, Grayson addressed the judge. "May I have a few moments to confer with my client, Your Honor?"
"Yes, of course," the judge granted.
Grayson thanked her cordially, and then leaned toward Jen and Tracy. Recommendations already forming in his sharp mind, Grayson's sincere blue eyes met Tracy's. "Look, I don't believe for a moment that you're guilty of this, Tracy," he said forthrightly. He had defended his fair share of guilty S.O.B.'s in his day, and thus, he had become a master at reading people. And having come to know the two of them quite well as they prepared for this battle, he simply couldn't fathom that Tracy Jackson was capable of such an unspeakable act.
Tracy thanked him for his faith in her, and he offered a warm smile in response, letting her know that she made it easy. And then he glanced at Jen. "This whole thing reeks of a set up. But regardless of the legitimacy of the charges, there's no way Judge Thomas can allow your boys to stay in the house if Tracy is there."
"That's ridiculous," Jen snapped. "She didn't do anything wrong. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"That doesn't play when the safety of children is at risk," Grayson answered. His gaze met Tracy's again. "Are you willing to move out until I can get this mess sorted out?"
"No. Way." Jen was absolutely adamant.
"Honey…" Tracy reached for Jen's hand.
"No, Trace," Jen argued. "You're not leaving our home over some bullshit charges that Preston's attorneys have somehow managed to fabricate." Instinctively, she knew he was behind it. She just didn't know how.
"Then you need to be prepared to turn over custody of your boys," Grayson warned. "If not to old man Morgan, then to DCFS."
"No way," Tracy argued, shaking her head in refusal. "I'll stay at my parents' place, Jen. You're not giving up custody. Not even for a minute. I won't stand for it."
Their eyes met, locking in the harsh lighting of the courtroom, and Jen grimaced. "I hate this."
Gently, Tracy squeezed the hand she held in her own. "I hate it too, Honey," she empathized. "But given the circumstances," she cast a glance toward Preston over Jen's shoulder, then her eyes met Jen's again, "it's what's best for the boys right now."
Jen's heart was racing in her chest. She hated the idea of Tracy having to leave their home, even for one night, let alone an undetermined amount of time. But the thought of her boys being handed over to that monster absolutely terrified her. She knew the kind of damage he was capable of doing to a little boy's self-confidence and well-being, if left to his own devices. Jake had been a good man, but he had become so by his own doing. That old bastard had put him through hell, and somehow, he had managed not only to survive, but to thrive. He had become his own man, and that's what she wanted for their boys.
"I'll pull some strings, push things along in the process," Grayson vowed, yanking Jen from her thoughts. "Once we figure out where this came from, we should be able to clear it up in a few weeks, if not days." His attention focused on Tracy again. "But in the meantime, I'm afraid things are going to get unpleasant."
Releasing a sigh of resignation, Tracy nodded. "I understand."
"Then we're in agreement?" Grayson sought clarification. "I'm free to offer a compromise to Judge Thomas that you'll remain out of the residence until this is cleared up?"
Tracy sought Jen's gaze again, finding a stormy gray where she usually met crystal clear blue of tropical waters. She arched an eyebrow in question, and resignedly, Jen nodded her assent.
"Yes," Tracy answered after a moment of silence.
While Grayson was busy with Jen and Tracy, Judge Thomas turned her attention to Frank, who was still sitting at the back of the courtroom. "Detective Cooper, if I may have a word with you?"
Quickly, Frank made his way to the bench. "Yes, Your Honor?"
"Who do you have in your department that you can trust to handle questioning these boys?" the judge inquired.
"Detective Sargent Langston Malloy," Frank answered without hesitation. "She's the best we have in Special Victims," he touted. "She's great with the kids, and knows how to handle anxious parents." He didn't mention the fact that she was the detective who took the report and the DNA sample when Tracy was attacked at Company. That would only serve to make the judge think twice about the appropriateness of the detective's involvement in this situation.
"Very well, Detective," Judge Thomas assented. "Make sure she's assigned to the case."
Frank nodded his agreement, and swiftly turned on his heel. He caught Natalia's glance as he passed by, and then quickly returned to the gallery, taking his seat again.
As soon as the judge's attention was removed from Frank, Reynolds stood, garnering her attention. "Your Honor, in light of the charges that have been filed against Miss Jackson, I respectfully request that temporary custody of the minor children be granted to my client, Preston Morgan. It's not appropriate for them to remain in a house where…"
"Your Honor, if I may?" Grayson interrupted, swiftly moving to his feet.
"What is it, Mr. McAlister?"
"Miss Jackson has agreed to vacate her place of residence with Mrs. Morgan, pending the outcome of any investigation into this matter," Grayson reported. "Neither of them wishes to displace their boys. With Miss Jackson out of the home, and given the fact that opposing counsel has not provided a single stitch of evidence that Mrs. Morgan is a threat to her sons, I believe it would be in the best interest of the children to remain in the only home they have ever known."
Judge Thomas contemplated the arrangement for a moment. "Where would Miss Jackson reside in the interim?"
"With her parents, Your Honor," Grayson answered.
"It's summertime, Mr. McAlister," Judge Thomas pointed out. "Who takes care of the minor children while Mrs. Morgan and Miss Jackson work? I understand that they work together at the Beacon."
Grayson glanced at Jen, looking for an answer. She rose from her seat. "Some days, they stay with Tracy's parents, and others, they come to the Beacon with us. Our boss, Olivia Spencer has a daughter their age, and they stay with her and her nanny."
"Neither of those options is suitable," Judge Thomas declared. "They leave potential for contact with Miss Jackson."
Standing to her feet, Olivia cleared her throat. "Your Honor, if I may?" she pleaded.
"And who are you?" Bennett Thomas's purposefully sharp gaze scrutinized Olivia as she posed the question. Of course, she knew exactly who Olivia was, but she couldn't allow the appearance of partiality.
"I'm Olivia Spencer, owner and general manager at the Beacon," Olivia answered.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Spencer?"
"I have what I believe to be a workable solution to the issue of childcare," Olivia declared.
"Let's hear it then," Judge Thomas said. Anything to keep from having to grant custody to that arrogant son-of-a-bitch, Morgan.
"My daughter Emma's nanny can certainly care for all three children at Mrs. Morgan's residence for the time being," Olivia proposed. "She knows them well, and they get along with Emma fabulously."
Jen stole a glance at Olivia. Their eyes met, and Jen mouthed, "Thank you."
A faint smile ghosted Olivia's lips. She nodded, almost imperceptivity, and then her eyes flickered back to the judge, waiting.
"Can this be arranged by tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Olivia answered courteously.
"Then so be it," Judge Thomas declared. She turned her attention toward the petitioner's attorney. "Your request is denied, Mr. Reynolds. Tracy Jackson will vacate the residence, and the children will remain in the custody of their mother, Jennifer Morgan, pending the outcome of any investigation into these allegations."
Preston cursed under his breath, and leveled Reynolds with an icy glare.
The judge turned her attention to Jen and Tracy then. "You understand, Mrs. Morgan, that any sighting of Miss Jackson in the residence, or of her in the presence of the children, will be grounds for immediate revocation of your custodial rights, pending the outcome of this investigation?"
Jen and Tracy stood. "Yes, Your Honor," Jen answered. Tracy followed suit.
"Okay then," Judge Thomas said resignedly. And then she banged her gavel, declaring, "This court is adjourned."
Everyone rose to their feet, and the moment Judge Thomas disappeared into her chambers, Grayson turned to Jen and Tracy. "Listen to me, okay? We have just a few minutes," he informed. "They won't arrest you until I walk you out of the courtroom, but they won't wait patiently for very long."
Heart pounding in her chest again, Jen pulled Tracy close, wrapping protective arms around her fiancée. As Tracy clung to her, Jen murmured soothing words against her ear, though, if asked later, neither of them would be able to recall exactly what was said.
Olivia, Natalia, and Phillip made their way around the thick mahogany barrier between the gallery and the respondent's table, as Grayson went on to explain the procedural things that were about to happen. Tracy would be taken into custody, formally charged, and booked. He included information about the booking process, and also let them both know that Jen would not be allowed to be a part of the process. She probably wouldn't even be allowed to speak with Tracy until after the bail hearing—a notion that caused Jen's face to turn nearly ashen. They needed to talk! They needed to figure out what the hell was going on before this situation got any more out of control.
Cutting through Jen's thoughts, simultaneously, Olivia and Phillip pledged their support in terms of bail money. Both she and Tracy looked decidedly relieved. Not that Jen didn't have ready access to the kind of cash it would take to get Tracy out—as sole trustee, she had access to plenty through the boys' trust funds. But touching their money, even temporarily, might give Preston even more ammunition, and the thought of that concerned her deeply. Besides, she knew Tracy would protest anyway, leaving her family to bear the burden of raising enough cash to ensure her freedom during the investigation into this bogus crime.
As the conversation between the six of them continued, there was a flurry of activity behind them, as Preston and his gang of pompous lackeys made a show of leaving the courtroom. The clock was ticking. It was only a matter of moments then, before Tracy would be under arrest for a crime designed to make her family doubt her, to shake her world to the core, and strip her of all dignity in the process.
TBC in Chapter 4.10…