TWO
Tour
CALVIN COOLIDGE SCHOOL of Law’s campus looked like the Ivy League campus from every movie Nora’d ever watched. The only thing missing was fall foliage.
She glanced up as they walked across the green from the parking lot. The bare branches did look very pretty against the blue November sky. Ryan reached for her hand, squeezing it, and she realized she’d stopped walking to stare at the trees.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “But it’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“I’ve always wanted to come here; before I knew it was a law school, it was exactly how I pictured college in my mind.”
From the old brick buildings to the stone chapel at one end of the green, the place was perfect. CCSL was small. It didn’t accept many students, but the ones they did accept were the best pre-law students in the country, or at least that’s what he told her.
She knew from watching him advocate for her that Ryan was the best. She didn’t need to see his grades or his fancy test scores. Her Ryan cared about justice and honor, and it set him apart and put him miles above other people. Except for her other guys.
The dean’s office was located in the admissions building, a large, yellow brick house which sat back from the rest of the campus. Dropping her hand to open the door, he paused. “Do you want to come in? Or do you want to explore?”
She assumed she’d wait, but he seemed nervous, and while he met her eyes, he couldn’t hold her gaze, glancing away quickly and then back to her. It was possible he didn’t want her to go with him.
“How about I wait out here?” she ventured, watching his reaction.
“Here?” Her initial impression was correct. Once he’d studied her, determining what she’d said was what she’d meant, his shoulders relaxed. All she wanted was for him to be successful. Today wasn’t about her or worrying about her feelings.
She pointed to a bench next to the door. “It’s dry and sunny. I’ll sit here and read my book.” Reaching into her bag, she showed him she did actually have something to do while he was gone.
Letting the door close, he reached for her. He swept her hair out of the way, then wrapped his hand around her nape and gave her a little tug. She rested there, head against his chest for a moment before he kissed the top of her head.
“Good luck,” she said and stepped back.
After pulling the strap of his bag up on his shoulder, his hand slowly drifted from her neck down to her elbow to grasp her hand and squeeze it. “You could explore.”
She shook her head and gestured to the bench. “See that little slice of sunshine? It has my name on it.”
Shooing him away when he lingered by the door, she assured him, “I’m good, Ryan. Promise.” She put her hand over his heart. “Time to put on your lawyer hat. Go argue your case.”
She kissed his chin and stepped away, waiting for him to go inside before she went over to the bench. As soon as the door closed, she dropped her head into her hands and let out a breath. Pushing her hair from her face, she straightened.
She was the problem. His request all but confirmed it. If she went inside, she’d be instantly recognized, exactly like she was at the grocery store or when she tried, and failed, to find a job. She couldn’t even serve dinner at the soup kitchen without causing upset. Her stomach roiled nervously, and she put her hand over it.
This was her greatest fear; she held the guys back. If Ryan didn’t get into law school because of her, she’d never forgive herself. She closed her eyes, leaning her elbow on the cold, narrow arm of the bench.
“Mind if I join you?” a voice asked.
She opened her eyes. A young man, tall and smiling, stared down at her, waiting for her answer.
“Go ahead,” she answered.
The man pulled his backpack off his back and settled it between them. “Are you here for a tour?” he asked as he pulled a pencil case from his backpack.
“No. Just waiting.”
Nodding, he opened the case and pulled out a green tag that he fixed on his jacket. She peered at it. “Calvin Coolidge School of Law, Tour Guide: Beau Rice.”
Ah, she mentally nodded. Must have been why he’d asked. She should probably find another place to sit if this was where the potential students and their families gathered.
Imagine the awkwardness. Perhaps they’d assume she was so guilty she needed all the lawyers in a law school to defend her. Mentally, she snorted at the vision of herself in a courtroom filled with a hundred lawyers.
Intercepting the man’s curious stare, she blushed. Her snort apparently hadn’t been as mental as she’d meant it to be.
“So, not a pre-law student?”
She shook her head. “No. Not a student at all.”
“You do seem a little young, but what do I know.” Silence descended between them as he waited for her to fill in the blanks.
“My boyfriend.” She gestured to the building. “He’s meeting with the dean.”
“Oh.”
A group of people walked toward the building. Unsure if they were there for the tour or about to bypass the building completely, she stood.
“Leaving?” Beau stood as well.
“I think your tour is arriving.” She pointed out the group heading toward them.
“You should come.” Sliding his arms through the straps of his backpack, he winked. “Even if your boyfriend is the one who’ll attend, can’t hurt to know the campus. You may end up hanging out here.” As the group came closer, he stepped away from the bench to wait on the top steps.
She remained where she was. It was safer to stay unseen. Surreptitiously, she watched him check his watch and pull his coat down, fingers fumbling with the zipper. His movements made her study him closer. He chewed his lip, as if nervous.
When he glanced her way, she quickly tugged her bag onto her lap and pulled out her book. It felt like he’d revealed something he hadn’t meant to, and rather than continue to watch him, she chose to pretend she hadn’t noticed. Maybe it wasn’t the right response, but it was the one she’d want.
Opening her book, she read bits she’d never remember. When Beau began his welcome, she glanced up. “Welcome to Calvin Coolidge School of Law. I’m Beau Rice.” He paused, and she snuck a peek over at the group.
Some of the parents exchanged glances, which seemed weird until he continued. “I see some of you recognize my name. Yes. I am that guy. The one who went to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. And here I am, giving you a tour of a law school. But”—clapping his hands together, he gave the impression of ease, but she got the feeling he faked it—“I am also a student here.”
Now she was openly staring, wishing she could join the tour group. His story, so similar to hers, gave her hope. Here was someone who went to jail, was released, and was successful. If he could do this, then why couldn’t she?
Making a split second decision, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot a quick message to Ryan, letting him know she’d joined the tour and would meet him back at admissions in an hour. Maybe Beau could help her, give her a plan to follow or a schedule; wait this many months before applying for a job or counter people’s refusal to hire with this argument.
She stuffed her book into the bag, keeping an eye on the group. Beau walked backwards, gesturing toward the green. She couldn’t make out his words, so she hurried down the steps.
“Decided to join us?” he called out.
She nodded, noting the way he smiled at her, an upturn of lips which seemed bitter, not friendly. Her quick decision smacked of rubbernecking, of trying to get a look at the guy who did jail time before taking a selfie and posting it on social media.
He stopped, waiting for her to join the pack, and continued to watch her, his smile forced. Without giving herself too much time to think about it, she moved to the front and stuck out her hand. “Nora Leslie,” she said, and from the whispers behind her, at least one person knew who she was. “Nice to meet you.”
His eyes widened, and his lips split into a smile. “Nora.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment before he gathered himself. “Okay. As you know, our illustrious school is named after Calvin Coolidge, one of two U.S. presidents born in Vermont…”
He had the tour guide thing down. Each visitor got eye contact while he pointed out important buildings and cracked jokes that soon had everyone laughing and at ease.
Keeping an eye on her phone in case Ryan texted her, she found herself relaxing enough to enjoy the sights.
Beau took them through the law library. It was full of students, all with their heads down, skimming pages of multiple books or typing furiously at their computers. She could easily see Ryan here.
Pausing in front of a portrait of the late president and speaking in a low voice, he asked, “How many of you know what a morals clause is?”
She kept her hand down, though based on its title, she could certainly guess.
“No one?” His eyes settled on her, though her hand wasn’t raised. “Calvin Coolidge had a certain style that some of us might call uptight, while others might label it conservative. In any case, he believed society and public service depended on moral values, and his endowment stated any student who attended CCSL must exemplify those set of values.” Gesturing to the library door, he walked backward to hold it open so the group could pass by him into the sunlight. “‘Enlightenment,’ Cal said, ‘must be accompanied by moral power.’ If there are any hints you have cheated, stolen, or lied, you will be automatically dismissed from our candidate pool. Doesn’t matter how good your LSATs are or who recommends you, you’re out.”
One of the students stared at her pointedly, but when she refused to look away his shoes suddenly became fascinating. Beau’s speech confirmed what she feared: Ryan was waitlisted because of his association with her. Why would this place be any different from Brownington College, who fired her from her housekeeping job after the shooting? Innocence aside, she represented something far too horrible to have connected to their institution.
God, what would it do to Ryan when he learned it was her fault?
As they exited the building and made their way back to admissions, Beau answered questions the students or their parents had. The tone of the tour was much more serious now, but he maintained his composure. He smiled genuinely, hands in his pockets. Every once in a while, he would flip his head, flicking his bangs out of his face. Nora looked on in amazement. All signs of the self-conscious Beau she’d glimpsed earlier were gone. This was a confident man who knew who he was and made no apologies.
The admissions building came into view, and the group split, most of them choosing to walk back to their cars while others headed to the bookstore to buy a sweatshirt or bumper sticker.
When the last person left, Beau sauntered up to her. Drawing his hands out of his pockets, he crossed his arms. “So.”
She pulled her sleeves over her hands and stared at the ground. “Yeah.”
“Your boyfriend applied here? For real?”
She looked up, eyebrows drawing together. “What do you mean?”
“It seems like quite a coincidence: me leading a tour, you taking it.”
The wind picked up, whipping her hair into her face. It was getting chillier, and she shivered. “Perhaps. But he did.”
They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment until she started toward admissions again. His footsteps sounded behind her as he hurried to catch up.
“Hey,” he called, and she paused. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” He laughed, but not with amusement. “I expect the worst. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Especially not you.” Putting a hand on her shoulder, he turned her to meet his gaze. “You probably know better than anyone what it’s like.”
She bit her lip. If he was holding out an olive branch, she’d take it. “You’re going to be a lawyer, huh?” She forced herself to smile, and he smiled back.
“Yup.”
“I’m lucky,” she said, thoughtfully. The admissions building was ahead of them, and no one was waiting for her. “My boyfriend, he was the intern who came with my lawyer from Legal Aid. I’d be in jail if it wasn’t for him. He knew I was innocent. I don’t know why he believed me, but he did. He’s one of the best people I know.”
“You are lucky. In my case, no one believed me.”
“How long were you in jail?” She bit at her nail before a gust of wind made her shove her hands in her pockets.
“Almost two years. Most of what would have been my junior year and then senior year in high school.”
“Can I ask you something?” She hazarded a glance at him, and he narrowed his eyes.
“You sort of already have.”
“I’m not trying to be nosy,” she answered quickly. “Only—there’s no one else like me, and it’s not like there’s some kind of how-to guide to deal with this. So everyone thinks you’re a murderer, step one.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough,” he answered before sighing. “Ask away.”
“How long did it take—once you were out— for people not to judge you. To do things like get a job or an apartment.”
He rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and squinting toward the horizon. The sun was lower, and when she glanced down at her phone, it was nearly dinner time. Still, there was no message from Ryan.
“Too long. It’s not as bad as it was. People don’t immediately recognize me or my name. But it never really ends. Something always comes up when you think you’ve moved on…” His features tensed. Whatever it was he referenced, it’d left him bitter and angry. It frightened her. Their stories aligned so closely; life could easily leave her feeling the same.
No.
She wanted hope for the future.
Working with Dr. Murray was the right choice, despite her and the guys’, reservations. His study would give her the chance to move on with her life and not dwell on what had happened to her.
Beau caught her staring at him and rubbed his hand down his face. “Sorry. It’s ironic you asked me this now when someone from my past… You know what? Never mind. It was nice to meet you, Nora. Good luck. Really. I hope your experience isn’t like mine.”
When he made a move to leave, she grabbed his coat. “Beau.”
He stared pointedly at her hand until she removed it. “Sorry.” Her face flushed. “Do you want my phone number? In case you need to talk? You know, to someone who gets it?”
“Why?” Canting his head to the side, he regarded her warily.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed on. “Because everyone needs a friend, and it might be nice, for you and for me, to have someone who understands what this is like.”
A small smile teased the edge of his mouth, and he pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”
She rattled it off, and her phone vibrated in her pocket.
“I gotta go,” he said, walking away before pausing. “I mean it, Nora. It really was nice to meet you.”
She lifted her hand, then hurried back toward the admissions building.