Wayward Son (20 page)

Hypocrisy, he thought, but at the same time, he couldn’t say for sure if he’d be willing to throw aside his entire life if he were in his father’s situation.

A young woman emerged from a door at the side of the lobby. “Mr. O’Malley?”

Both Mikey and his father turned, but his father bit off his response and glanced at Mikey. Mikey swallowed. “That’s me,” he said.

The woman smiled. “Mr. Vickery will see you now.”

She escorted them to a conference room where Warren Vickery sat at one end of the table. He half rose to shake first Rev. O’Malley’s hand and then Mikey’s.

“Mr. Vickery.” Mikey nodded toward Jimmy. “This is Jimmy Black.”

Mr. Vickery peered over his reading glasses as he shook Jimmy’s hand. “You’re Mr. O’Malley’s legal counsel?”

“Not officially.” Jimmy sounded unconcerned by the distinction. “I don’t currently practice, so my bar membership status is inactive. I will be advising Mr. O’Malley on his request. However, all legal decisions will be handled through Mr. Day’s office.”

Mr. Vickery nodded and jotted a note on his legal pad. “Are there any objections to Mr.…?” He raised an eyebrow at Jimmy.

“James Earl Black,” Jimmy replied. He glanced at Mikey. “No, I wasn’t named after President Carter.” He grinned. “I’m too old for that. I was named for
Governor
Carter.”

Rev. O’Malley bit back a sound that might have been a laugh, then cleared his throat. “I have no objection.” His voice was appropriately serious, but a small smile played around his lips. Mikey blinked at the realization that Jimmy was actually closer in age to his father than to Mikey. He didn’t have time to let that little tidbit sink in, though. Mr. Vickery was talking again, this time to the phone at the center of the table.

“Mr. Day?”

Mikey hadn’t even known he was there. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Black several times already, and I’m perfectly fine with his participation” came the reply.

“All right, then.” Mr. Vickery pulled an open folder toward him. “A brief summary of the plaintiff’s claims. Ms. Donaldson states that on three separate occasions during the month of July in 2006, Mr. O’Malley—that is, the younger Mr. O’Malley—encountered Ms. Donaldson’s young daughter, Regan, when the family visited the Sliding Waters water park in Orlando. Ms. Donaldson further states that, under the guise of his job duties, Mr. O’Malley—and here I quote—’placed his hand over Regan’s crotch area and moved his fingers back and forth in a stroking motion.’”

Mikey had read through the paperwork, but only once because the things this woman accused him of doing turned his stomach. Hearing them read out loud had him swallowing back bile. It took all of his self-control—and the hand Jimmy had wrapped around one of his under the table—to keep him from losing it completely.

What if this got to trial? There was no way Mikey could sit in a courtroom and listen to all this again. Especially not with the girl he was accused of violating sitting in front of him.

“The complainant further states,” Mr. Vickery went on, “that Mr. O’Malley repeated these actions or similar ones on multiple occasions, both that day and during two subsequent visits the Donaldson family made to the water park.”

“How old was this little girl?”

Mikey snapped his head up to stare at his father, but Rev. O’Malley’s gaze was fixed on Mr. Vickery, waiting for an answer to his question. Mikey couldn’t read his expression, but a muscle jumped along his jawline, and his hands were folded together on the tabletop so tightly they’d gone white around the edges. Mikey wondered if his father was holding back as much as Mikey was, and if his emotions were directed toward his disgust at the accusations—or at his disgust with his son.

“At the time,” Mr. Vickery finally said, “Regan Donaldson was three and a half years old.”

Oh God
. Mikey hadn’t caught that detail when they’d gone through the papers. Not that it would have been any less horrific if she’d been older, but three years old? She would’ve been a tiny little thing, playing in the kiddie pools, not even old enough for the water slides—

Mikey sat up straight. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You’re sure they say it was nine years ago?”

“That’s right,” Mr. Vickery confirmed. “The lawsuit states that the information came out during interviews with the girl related to custody matters concerning the Donaldsons’ recent divorce.”

A glimmer of hope bloomed in Mikey’s chest. “Sliding Waters wasn’t the fanciest place around, but they did have some safety rules. You had to be at least six years old for even the smallest of the regular water slides. You had to play in the kiddie section if you weren’t old enough. And for an employee to work in the kiddie pools and stuff, you had to get certified in infant and child CPR, and you have to have worked at the park for at least six months. They didn’t want people who didn’t know what they were doing dealing with the little kids.”

“Liability,” Jimmy put in. He squeezed Mikey’s hand. “Makes sense. So that means you were working… where?”

“Just the water slides the first year,” Mikey said. “I got my CPR certification before I started work, but only the regular kind because I knew I couldn’t work in the kiddie section anyway. And I only worked there for three months that summer and three months the next. I got to work the wave pools the second year, but after I graduated from high school, I got a job at Disney.” Mikey grinned at Jimmy and then turned to Mr. Vickery, relieved. “I never worked in the kiddie section. The only time I dealt with little kids at all was if they got lost or something like that, and that only happened a few times. Definitely not with the same kid a bunch of times over three different days in the same summer.”

Mr. Vickery made a sound in his throat and another note on his pad. “This water park. Do you know its current status?”

“Some of it’s still there,” Mikey replied. Jimmy had both hands wrapped around one of Mikey’s now. “It got sold about a year after I got out of high school, I think. And then part of it got split off into something else, but I know at least a few of the water slides are still there. Or they were the last time I was over that way, a few months ago.”

“Do you know the current name or owners? Or how to get in contact with the owners from when you worked there?”

Mikey shook his head. “No. I don’t know any of that stuff. They asked me that when I applied at the nature park in Atlanta, but I just put down what I could remember, which wasn’t much. The address of the park and the name of the guy who hired me. I still have that on my computer, but I had all that time at Disney since, so I didn’t try to dig up anything more than that. I didn’t think it would matter.”

Another note on the legal pad. “Mr. Day?”

“I can start on a response today” came the reply through the speakerphone. “As soon as we’re finished with the call. I can also put Quinn—my intern—on researching the park information. Unless you think it will work better from down there?”

“I think we have a few people we can call, but the more the merrier,” Mr. Vickery replied. He made yet another note before laying his pen on the table and folding his hands over the pad. “Mr. O’Malley,” he said, speaking to Mikey directly. “Assuming we are able to corroborate your assertions about your employment description and responsibilities”—
Did that thesaurus give him indigestion?
Mikey couldn’t help thinking—“this may well become a cut-and-dried case. Ms. Donaldson’s allegations would be null and void if we could prove that you did not work in the area where she took her child, and thus would have had no contact with her as part of your job. Now,” he said as he reached for his pen again, “do you have any further information that might allow us to contact others who could confirm your employment dates and duties?”

Mikey almost smacked himself in the face. “Kitty!” he exclaimed. He turned toward Jimmy. “Kitty worked with me that second summer. That’s when we got to be friends. She worked the water slides, same as me, because she hadn’t worked there long enough either.”

“Is that Kitty Chapman, Dr. Chapman’s daughter?” Rev. O’Malley asked.

Mikey turned to nod at him. “You know we were roommates before I moved to Atlanta, right? I mean, after I left—”

After I left home
, he’d been about to say, but he stopped himself in time.

“I’d forgotten,” Rev. O’Malley said, “but yes.” He turned to Mr. Vickery. “William Chapman and his wife are well-regarded members of my congregation. Marjorie works with our children’s outreach program. While their daughter has had some… differences with her parents, I believe that they may be able to provide corroboration regarding the employment terms at the water park.”

Mr. Vickery made yet another note. “All right. This should get us started well.” He lifted his head. “If anyone thinks of anything, or finds anything or hears anything that might assist, please contact me immediately. As I said, this should be cut-and-dried, but my years in the legal profession have taught me that little truly is. In this case with the length of time involved, proving innocence can be difficult. The fact that this is a civil case, not criminal, adds another layer of difficulty because the level of proof required of the plaintiffs is lower. On the other hand, the fact that criminal charges have not been pursued works in our favor.”

Mikey swallowed back bile at the thought of criminal charges. He nodded.

“Does anyone have any questions at this point?” Mr. Vickery asked.

Oh, only about nine billion
, Mikey thought, but he shook his head. The others followed suit, though Mikey could tell his father, at least, felt much the same as Mikey about that.

“All right, then.” Mr. Vickery closed his portfolio. “We will prepare a response as quickly as possible, with a goal of filing by the end of this week. A draft copy will be provided to Mr. Day for review before filing, and copies of the final filing will be provided to his office immediately.” He glanced between Mikey and his father. “I will ask both of you to remain available by telephone as much as possible during the next few days. If you will be unavailable during the day, please provide those times before you leave today.”

Jimmy spoke up then. “We’ll be flying back almost immediately so Mikey can make it to his class tonight.” Mikey turned to him, ready to protest, but Jimmy just squeezed his hand again. “I think his daytime schedule is open. Isn’t it?”

He directed the question to Mikey. “Yes,” Mikey croaked out. He cleared his throat. “I just have classes at night since the park won’t let me work until this is settled.”

“I’ll deal with that,” Mr. Day said. “I’ll call their office as soon as possible.”

Mikey didn’t protest. At that point he didn’t much care if he ever went back to work there. Even if the lawsuit was dismissed, they’d always know about it, and that just made him want to crawl in a hole and hide.

“Right.” Mr. Vickery pushed to his feet. “I’ll call if I have questions or news.”

Jimmy stood, pulling Mikey to his feet by the hand he still held, and Mikey’s father’s gaze went immediately to their clasped hands. He didn’t sneer or give a look of disgust, though, so Mikey ignored it. Let him look all he wanted. Mikey was done hiding.

Mr. Vickery shook hands all around, and as they walked down the hall behind Mikey’s father, Jimmy twisted his hand so he could twine their fingers together.

“It’s all gonna be fine,” he said in a low voice, one Mikey was starting to believe. “Now let’s just focus on getting you back in time for class.”

J
IMMY
NAVIGATED
the airport like a pro, finding the airline counter in minutes and getting their flight back to Atlanta taken care of in no time flat. Mikey just handed over his driver’s license when the ticketing agent asked for it and shook his head when she asked if he’d be checking a bag. Jimmy took their boarding passes, shouldered the sleek black leather backpack he’d brought with him, and grabbed Mikey’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve got to rush,” he said. “Boarding starts in thirty minutes.”

The security line and the tram ride went by in a blur, and with just five minutes to spare, they were at their gate. Jimmy didn’t bother looking for seats, just leaned against the wall near the boarding lane and gave Mikey a smile.

“There. That wasn’t too crazy. We’ll land at five, and we can MARTA to Midtown. I parked at a friend’s place just down from there, so even with traffic we should get you to class on time.”

Mikey didn’t try to do the math himself. He just nodded. He didn’t have his textbook, but they rarely needed it in class, and his sketchpad never left his backpack unless he was using it. He’d be fine.

He would.

Without realizing it at first, Mikey found himself leaning closer to Jimmy. Jimmy shifted to wrap his arm around Mikey’s waist. “You okay there?” he asked in a low voice.

Mikey nodded again and snuggled in closer. He didn’t care who might be watching. “Just ready to be done with all this.”

He laid his head on Jimmy’s shoulder, even though the height difference made it a stretch, and when Jimmy pressed a kiss into his hair, Mikey let his eyes fall shut.
Sometimes it’s all right to be taken care of
, he reminded himself, though the voice in his head sounded like Jimmy’s.
Sometimes it’s all right to lean.

Maybe eventually he’d learn that lesson.