Jenna glanced at her, but Lacey’s face was turned toward the window, hiding her expression. Jenna knew Sawyer Gallagher had visited his sister regularly, and she’d assumed they had a good, close relationship. But maybe she’d misread the situation entirely.
God knew, she was no expert in navigating the murky undercurrents of family life. In fact, it was almost laughable that she even felt the urge to try. What was that old saying about getting your own house in order first?
“I really appreciate you doing this for me today,” Lacey said.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s six hours of driving, round trip.”
“Yeah, but it’s better than being in the office.”
She could feel Lacey studying her, and Jenna took her attention off the road for a second to glance at her passenger. A small frown wrinkled Lacey’s forehead and she looked troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but one of the things I promised myself in prison was that I would never not ask the difficult, important question just because it might make someone feel uncomfortable, and I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while now.”
“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?” Jenna joked.
“Why are you helping me like this? Why did you take on my case?”
Jenna shifted her grip on the steering wheel as she tried to decide how honest she should be with her answer. Then she gave a mental shrug. If Lacey could ask the important, difficult question, the least Jenna could do was answer it.
“A lot of the time, being a lawyer sucks,” Jenna said. “Especially working in criminal law. Defending people who are most likely guilty, dealing with the worst parts of humanity day in, day out, seeing crappy judgments and unfair verdicts… If I wanted to, I could get pretty depressed about the state of humanity just by reading through my in-tray. So I made a decision a few years back – whenever I find a case where I feel I can make a real difference in someone’s life, I do my best to get involved.”
Jenna could feel heat stealing into her face as she finished speaking. She’d never articulated the motivation behind her pro bono work so baldly before, and she winced inwardly at how…worthy she sounded. She wasn’t worthy. She was overworked, more than a little anal retentive, and a born worrier. She had no social life to speak of, and she was pretty sure that her office nickname of GAJ – an acronym for Go Ask Jenna – was not an affectionate one, given her penchant for perfectionism when it came to paperwork and documentation.
In short, she was a conscientious lawyer, not a brilliant one, and the volunteer cases she took on were as much about making it possible for her to continue to stomach her career choice as they were about assisting people like Lacey.
“So you really think you can help me?” Lacey asked.
Jenna blinked, nonplussed by the simplicity of the question.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have taken you on if I didn’t.”
“I thought maybe your firm had a pro bono quota or something like that.”
Jenna snorted out her nose. “No. I’m pretty sure my partners would prefer it if I concentrated on clocking up more billable hours.”
“Then I guess I owe you even more.”
“You owe me nothing, because I haven’t done anything yet. When I do, you can go nuts, but until then, pace yourself,” Jenna said, smiling to let Lacey know she was only kidding.
Lacey made an unsatisfied sound, but the frown faded from her face. Jenna reached out and punched on the radio.
“Be warned. If anything from Destiny’s Child comes on, I’m going to sing, and it’s won’t be pretty,” Jenna said.
“I feel the same way about Britney Spears,” Lacey said.
Lacey had never struck Jenna as a pop princess kind of a woman. She shot Lacey a look and caught the sly curl at the corner of her mouth.
“Almost had me,” Jenna admitted.
“Please. Do I look like a Britney fan? Now, Mariah Carey…”
The sky remained clear for the bulk of the three hour drive. They stopped once for lunch – burgers and coffee in a truck stop – and were only running an hour behind Jenna’s mental schedule when they hit the main street of Marietta, Montana. Jenna looked around with interest, noting the charming shop fronts. Christmas decorations hung from the street lamps, oversized bows and shiny, golden bells mixed in with wreaths decked out with candy canes.
“Turn left here,” Lacey said.
Lacey continued to give instructions for the next few minutes, navigating them out of town. Soon they were heading toward a well-wooded area that Lacey told her backed onto the national forest.
She didn’t need to tell Jenna when they’d arrived at the farm. A huge, weather-beaten wooden sign was staked out on the side of the road with a big white arrow pointing left and the words Gallagher’s Christmas Tree Farm picked out in red.
Jenna realized that Lacey had shifted forward in her seat – not quite to the edge, but close enough.
Jenna gave her a reassuring smile. “Almost there.”
“Yep,” Lacey said.
Jenna turned onto the side road, then turned again when she came upon yet another sign for the Gallagher’s farm. The sealed road became gravel for a couple of hundred feet, then opened up into a sizeable parking area patronized by half a dozen cars. To one side was a rustic-looking log cabin, complete with cute little attic windows peeking out of the roofline, and to the other was a timber barn decked out in big red Christmas bows and flashing fairy lights. A couple of forty-gallon drums sat in front of the barn, the haphazard holes punched in their sides revealing fires burning within.
Cut Christmas trees were piled against one side of the barn, while others were dotted around, displayed upright thanks to half wine barrels that had been drilled centrally to create a sturdy stand. An elderly couple waited near the barn, while the rest of the customers walked amongst the trees, looking for the perfect specimen.
Lacey was truly on the edge of her seat now and Jenna braked to a stop.
“Why don’t you go ahead and find your brother, and I’ll park the car,” she suggested.
The last thing Lacey and her brother needed was an interloper witnessing their reunion.
“Thanks,” Lacey said, the gruffness in her voice hinting at the strong emotion she was combatting.
Jenna waited until Lacey had climbed out of the car and moved away before carefully guiding the Volvo into one of the remaining parking spaces. A glance in the rear view mirror revealed Lacey walking past the barn and weaving her way through the trees, clearly looking for someone. A tall, dark-haired figure was working with a piece of machinery, feeding trees into it. His face was a blur at this distance, but Jenna could see the tension in Lacey’s stance as she approached her brother.
Very deliberately, Jenna looked away, reaching for her phone. She didn’t want to watch someone else’s homecoming. It was way, way too close to the bone, especially at this time of year.
Instead, she did what she always did when she was unsettled or emotional – she called up the email app on her phone, and concentrated on work.