And now Kevin was her very first guardian ad litem case. Guardians ad litem, GALs for short, were adult volunteers who were assigned to children involved in the family court system, to advocate for their rights and help make what could be a frightening process easier for the child. Originally they had only been assigned in abuse cases, but Palmetto County, Florida, had recently expanded the program to all foster children, to help them navigate the family court system. Dani’s job was to help him understand what was happening, and to speak out on the child’s behalf as his representative. And now, with Kevin facing criminal charges, she was also acting as his guide through the juvenile justice system.
A legal background like Dani’s, although not necessary, was helpful, and the program director had assured Dani that even though she’d only been practicing a few years she was more than qualified. But nothing in the training program had prepared her for how emotional it would be, and how hard. The very thing that had drawn her to the program, her understanding of what it felt like to be vulnerable and powerless, was what made doing the job so heartbreaking. When she looked at Kevin she didn’t see a case or a volunteer project. She saw a frightened little boy who had made a mistake he was very sorry for. He was just a kid who needed a break—someone to stand by him and believe in him. Sitting next to her, legs dangling several inches above the ground, he seemed so small and vulnerable. And she knew too well what it was like to feel vulnerable.
Unfortunately, the outcome was out of her hands. Her role in this case was as an advisor and sounding board. She could explain things to Kevin, but she had no say in what happened. If this had been a custody hearing, she would have presented her opinion to the judge, but in a criminal case she was on the sidelines, there for moral support as much as anything. So she bit her tongue, held Kevin’s hand and glared daggers at Tyler Jackson.
A few minutes later, he finished speaking and, at the judge’s direction, left the witness box and headed for the back of the courtroom. Dani found her eyes drawn to him as he strode down the center of the room, passing within inches of the table where she sat. As if feeling the intensity of her gaze, he glanced down at her briefly. Then he was past her, and a minute later she heard the heavy doors of the courtroom thud close.
“Good riddance,” she mumbled under her breath. Something about him made her nervous, almost restless. She’d like to blame it on her anger at him for pressing charges, but she’d noticed it the moment she saw him in the courtroom, well before she’d realized who he was. No, it was something intrinsic to him, and not the situation, that made her skin tingle in awareness. The same hyperawareness she felt before a big electrical storm, telling her lightning was about to strike.
It was probably just that he seemed too handsome, too sure of himself, too confident, which were all characteristics that had led her astray in the past. Or maybe she’d met him before, and it was some weird recognition kicking in, although she hadn’t been in the toy store he ran that she could remember. She tended to shop online, late at night when insomnia struck.
But whatever the reason, he was gone now and she could turn all her attention back to Kevin and the trial. The judge, a matronly looking woman in her midfifties or so, finished writing something on the papers in front of her, then cleared her throat before turning toward the defense table. Kevin was instructed to stand, and he did, his freckles stark against his suddenly pale skin.
Dani felt her own pulse racing, and forced herself to smile, trying to send positive thoughts even as she waited for the judge’s decision. Luckily, the Honorable Sheila Graves lived up to her reputation as both efficient and compassionate, delivering her verdict without further delay—probation, and participation in the county mentoring program for at-risk youth.
Dani let out a shaky breath and turned to Kevin, who looked a bit shell-shocked at the decision. “Do you understand what she said?”
He started to nod, then shook his head in confusion. “I don’t have to go to jail?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “No, big guy, you don’t have to go to jail. You got probation—that just means you have to be on your best behavior, and not break any more laws. You can do that, no problem, right?”
He nodded, more confidently this time. “And I have to have a mentor.”
She smiled. “That’s right. Do you know what a mentor is?”
“Not really.”
“It’s just a person, someone older and maybe a bit wiser, who will be your friend. Someone to hang out with you, give you advice, someone you can talk to about things that are bugging you.”
Some of the stiffness went out of his stance. “That sounds okay, I guess. But can I still hang out with you, too?”
Dani felt her heart squeeze. He tried to pretend he was tough, but deep down he was still just a scared little boy. Putting an arm over his shoulders, she guided him toward the back doors, where his foster parents were waiting. “Of course. You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”
“So you’ll come with me to meet the mentor person?”
She hesitated. It really wasn’t her place, and the mentor might want one-on-one time to build a rapport.
“Please?”
Tears welled up in big brown eyes, and she knew she couldn’t say no. Whoever the mentor was, surely they’d understand. And if not, they’d just have to deal with it. “Of course I’ll go with you. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
Dani spent the remainder of the afternoon holed up in her office, trying to concentrate on the probate paperwork she’d promised to finish by tomorrow. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind on her work. Estate planning, although important, didn’t compare to the challenge of trial law, and on days like today she missed her old job. More than that, she missed who she’d been, before she’d lost faith in the system and herself.
Restless, she found her eyes drawn to the window yet again. It was a gorgeous spring day, and as usual there was a crowd of kids at the ice-cream parlor across the street, eagerly lapping up their after-school treats while their moms congregated in the shade of an awning. Usually she found the view soothing, a reminder of all the goodness in life, but today it was like a punch in the gut. Kevin should be doing stuff like that—eating ice cream and laughing with friends. Not spending the day in court. And as much as his foster parents, the Cunninghams, wanted to do right by him, she couldn’t picture the elderly couple taking him for ice cream after school or pitching baseballs to him in the park. Maybe his new mentor would help with that kind of thing. But even that was a temporary fix to a much larger problem. One she had no idea how to solve.
And staring at the same paragraph of legalese for the fifteenth time wasn’t going to change anything. She shoved the papers into her briefcase and decided to finish up at home. Maybe a brisk walk would clear her head and help her focus. A run would be even better, but her work clothes weren’t exactly conducive to that, so a walk would have to do. Snagging her purse, she ducked into the room next door, where her father was seated at an oversized desk covered in yellow legal pads. “I’m going to head out, and work on this at home.”
Her father’s eyebrows arched. She never left early. “Everything okay?”
“Sure, just a bit of spring fever.”
Worry lines creased his forehead. They’d always had a close bond, but in