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Justice

By Emily Conrad

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JUSTICE by Emily Conrad
Chapter 1 Excerpt
Snow floated onto Main Street, each flake large enough to catch the breeze like a parachute. A miniature army, launching a surprise invasion on March first. If it kept up, Jake would have to clear the sidewalk. As it was, customers had tracked in enough to leave a puddle trail across the hardwood floor.
He hefted the tray of dishes he’d gathered from Hillside Coffee’s tables and headed for the back. The bells on the side entrance jingled, announcing at least one more North Adams resident needing a coffee to warm his or her hands.
Carrie, the manager Jake had scheduled for the morning, stepped toward the register.
As he slid the tray onto the workspace next to the sink, the silverware rattled against the stack of mugs. The scent of detergent rose, but the machine was silent now. The kid on dish duty, Ronny, was nowhere to be seen. As usual.
Carrie stuck her head around the corner. ‚Brooklyn’s here to see you.‛ His stomach flopped. Amazing he’d known Brooklyn since fifth grade, yet she had that effect on him. He’d track down Ronny later.
Brooklyn Merrill stood at the end of the sales counter as if she had been about to come back to find him. She held a hat in one hand while she used the other to smooth her blonde hair. Since her business trip two months ago, she’d worn her long locks up without exception. Every time he saw her, he had to fight off the thought of kissing that spot between her spine and her ear, where her hair was soft and new. Someday, he’d coax her into giving love a chance. For sanity’s sake, he had to.
He cleared his throat. “Took the day off?”
Brooklyn’s mouth pulled into a tight grimace. For two months, sadness had infused her expression whenever she didn’t seem to think he’d notice, but this was the first time she’d failed to tuck it away when he was obviously watching.
This could be the answer to his prayer that she would open up again. He led her a few steps away to a space by the display shelves. “You want to talk?”
A collection of tears glittered in her eyes. “I haven’t been as good as I’ve been acting.”
He would wrap her in the hug of her life, but their friendship rarely crossed the border of touch. He tried a gentle smile instead. “That’s a problem. Because you haven’t been acting very good.”
A laugh caught in her throat.
He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the rear corner of the first floor, where she could sit with her back to everyone.
Even wrapped in privacy, she stared toward the wall and picked at her fingernails. “I planned what to say to you.” Her voice quieted. “But I don’t think I can do it.”
His relief morphed into dread. What could be this bad? Father, don’t let me mess this up. “Just tell me the script. What’d you plan to say?”
“I need a ride to a doctor’s appointment.” She spoke in a flat tone.
He wanted to play along and say his lines, too, but all this over an illness? If she’d been sick since her mood froze over in January and couldn’t drive herself, it was serious. His dad’s problems had started this way—an appointment followed by a cancer diagnosis, months of treatment and supposed remission, and, finally, a funeral.
Brooklyn searched his eyes, tense sadness weighing down her features.
He kept his gaze trained on her beautiful, worried face. Maybe this appointment was something simple. He had to believe it, or he couldn’t ask. “What kind of appointment?”
Brooklyn swallowed, neck ridged. “I’m three weeks late.”
“To the appointment?”
“My body. My body is three weeks late.”
“Your body…” Then it hit him. She thinks she’s pregnant. How had he not understood sooner?
“I took a test, but maybe it was wrong.”
She’d changed on that business trip. An image thundered to mind, and he willed it away. But the question remained. “You and Caleb?”
“It’s not like you think, Jake.”
“No kidding.”
She taught Sunday school. She had worn a promise ring for years, but her finger was bare now. Caleb went on the New Wilshire trip knowing how Jake felt about Brooklyn, knowing he’d ended his last relationship to pursue her. Would Caleb have slept with her anyway?
“I can explain. There’s not enough time right now, but I will explain.”
He clenched his fist under the table. “I’m sure you could summarize.” After all those years of pushing him away with the claim she’d never marry, never fall in love, she’d let someone else in. If it was just Jake she hadn’t wanted all this time, she could’ve saved him years of trouble by being honest. “It’s none of my business.” He started away.
“Jake, please.”
He turned back.
“I can’t face this alone anymore.” Her grip on the table turned her fingertips white.
The day Dad had died, when Jake reached home from the hospital, he’d found her waiting in the driveway. He and his mom had been together the whole time, but as soon as he held Brooklyn in his arms, he felt a million times less alone. Later, when losing Dad prompted him to question God, it had been Brooklyn who stood by him, her unshakable faith drawing him back to faith of his own. She may have brought this on herself, but he owed her company in her darkest hour. “Fine. When’s the appointment?”
“I sat in the parking lot for half an hour before I worked up the nerve to come in.”
He crossed his arms.
“Ten.”
He checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes?”
She nodded, sighed, and stood. “I was going to talk to you sooner.”
He trusted his managers, and he could leave with little to no warning. As he led the way to the door, he braced for snowflakes. Since he lived in the apartment above the shop and had no plans to go out, he’d worn short sleeves, and there wasn’t time to run up for something warmer.
As they walked to the car, his peripheral vision caught the line of Brooklyn’s dipped chin and the slant of her downcast eyes. He was failing her. He put an arm around her shoulders but felt no warmth when she leaned into him.

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