“You're right,” Sam relents. “I'm sorry. That was really insensitive of me, and I shouldn’t have said it. I just don't want anything to happen to him. He’s been through so much.”
"I know. Neither do I."
He looks at me for a few seconds. "What is it?"
"It feels strange leaving here after all this just happened," I say.
"One thing at a time, Emma. You can't stay here hoping you'll figure out the key. I’ll take care of that and let you know what I find as soon as I can. They need you in Harlan."
I gather Sam into my arms and hold him close. I don't want to leave again. I want to be right here with him. But the need to finish what I started pulls me away from Sherwood and back to the hotel room I didn't even bother checking out of. Sam will be there soon. A few more days here in Sherwood and then he'll come back to help in Harlan.
I wish he could be there for the hearing. He doesn't know Xavier. He can't speak to his character or how he would manage once out of a facility. I don't want Sam there for Xavier. I want him there for me. But this is something I'm going to have to do on my own.
When I get back to the hotel and unpack, I call Dean. We talk about the whole situation, and by the time I get off the phone, I feel better. The night ahead of me seems long. But soon enough, tomorrow will come.
The next day, I know we won't be standing in front of Sterling Jennings when we go in, but my stomach still twists right before we step through the doors. It took this long for us to be able to secure a time to be in front of another judge. It won't change now. But I wouldn't be able to stand there and face Jennings, knowing what he did, knowing he would snatch away Xavier's chances.
We listen to the lawyer present Xavier's case and outline the new developments. Tension makes the muscles along the sides of my neck and behind my shoulders so tight they hurt. Finally, it's time for the lawyer to present our recommendation and the judge to come to her conclusion.
"I want to be clear here," she starts, her eyes scrolling over notes she has spread in front of her. "I have experience with Mr. Renton. I've seen his behavior and witnessed the difficulty he often has with communication and aligning his thoughts with the world around him. It is my understanding that before he was incarcerated, he received a considerable amount of assistance from friends, including Andrew Eagan."
Xavier draws in a deep breath that seems to drag him up a few inches, then he deflates. He looks over at me. I can see the expression in his eyes. The anxiety is creeping up. He wants to say something, but he's struggling to hold it back.
"It's alright," I whisper. "You're going to be alright."
"The lights," he whispers back. "They're too much."
I glance up and, for the first time, notice the intensity of the overhead lighting. It has always been bright. That's just part of the courtroom. But now I'm seeing how stark the lights are. Even more intense than the fluorescent lights in the visiting room at the facility where I see him.
"I know,” I tell him. “They’re a lot. But you can get through this.” I think for a few seconds and something comes into my mind. “Pretend you're in a vending machine. All the lights are surrounding you. Now, which one of those snacks is choosing you?”
He draws in a breath and left it out slowly.
“Pop Rocks,” he says.
“Which one do you want, though?” I ask. “Tell yourself to be not what chooses you, but what you want. I know a potato chip would probably choose me earlier. Breakable, salty. But I would rather the cookie want to be me. So, I'm being resilient and flexible."
He nods.
"Excuse me. Ms. Griffin, I'm in charge of this hearing," the judge says.
I look around Xavier to her.
"I apologize, your honor. Xavier is feeling anxious, but we have it under control," I say.
"Do you, Mr. Renton?" she asks.
"Yes," Xavier says, nodding. He looks stronger now. "I'm ready to continue."
"Good. As I was saying, some of what I've seen of Mr. Renton concerns me. While I understand his intelligence is considerably above average, he has challenges with perception and basic life functioning that make me wonder if he will be able to assimilate into life outside of the structure of the facility," she says.
"Yes, we understand that, your honor," the lawyer says. "Which is why we came up with the plan we presented. I believe it will properly respect Mr. Renton's rights while also giving him the opportunity to grow accustomed to the world he will be living in again, once his new trial proves his innocence."
"And you are in agreement with this plan?" the judge asks, her eyes moving to the side of the table.
Dean stands, adjusting his suit jacket. He gives a firm nod. "Yes, your honor."
Chapter Eleven
“Thank you for agreeing to be my handler,” Xavier says to Dean as we walk out of the courtroom.
“That's not what I am,” Dean says.
“Yes,” Xavier says. “It's exactly what you are. You're going to live with me and help me do all the things I'm supposed to do every day while I get used to the world again, so I don't wander off or fall apart. Because apparently, that's what the judge believes I will do.”
“I hate the way she was talking about you,” I say. “All of them. They were all acting as if you can't function, as if you can’t get through a day without someone there to help you.”
“Why does that upset you?” Xavier asks.
“Because it’s not right,” I say.
“And what if it is?” he asks.
We stop in the foyer of the courthouse, and
