Page 14 of A Night to Remember

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” I begin, not looking at Kayla. “But it seems like in the past?—”

“Gabriel, I will thank you not to interfere,” my father interrupts sharply. “I was just finishing up a meeting with Ms. Johnson. Please wait in the lobby until I call you.”

“That’s all right,” Kayla says, in a noticeably shakier voice. “I was just leaving.”

She brushes past me on her way out the door, speeding towards the exit with long, determined strides. “Wait!” I call after her, though I can feel my father bristling with anger behind me. “I think I can help you.”

In my hurry to catch up with her, I bang my leg on Mrs. Andrews’s desk.

“Watch where you’re going,” Kayla snarls over her shoulder. “And mind your own business.” I dismiss this invective and follow her out the door.

“Johnson! Stop!” I call again, more forcefully than I mean to. My voice reminds me unpleasantly of Dad’s, but Kayla responds as quickly as if I’d grabbed her arm.

Turning on her heels, she fixes me with the same look she gave me when I almost ran her over. None of my professors at law school had such an intimidating gaze. I quaver for a moment until I see that her gray eyes are brimming with tears.

“No thanks,” she says. “I know all about what happens to women you try to ‘help.’ I don’t trust you or anyone in your family.”

I am thoroughly confused. What does she mean about the women I try to “help”? My mind stumbles for a moment. But then I remember that I have a duty here. “Before the bank served your mother with the NoD,” I ask, “did they say anything about loss mitigation?”

She opens her mouth to snap at me again, then gives me a puzzled look.

“NoD means ‘Notice of Default’,” I explain.

“I figured that. I might not have been to law school, but I can identify a simple acronym.”

“What I’m asking is,” I continue, brushing off her tone, “did they give your mother a chance to refinance the loan? Or settle on a different payment plan?”

She mulls this over for a moment.

“I’m not really sure…”

“If not, there might be a way to avoid foreclosure. Would you let me look at all your mother’s correspondence from the bank?”

If there’s one thing I know Kayla Johnson hates, it’s help. She’d rather chew off her own foot than have someone help her out of a trap. She studies me intently, clearly casting around forways to rebuff me. For a moment, I think she’s going to make another crack, maybe something relating my legal skills to my driving. But instead, her face falls and she seems to fold into her shabby coat. That look of defeat is a thousand times worse than her anger. Once again, I feel a powerful urge to press her to me.

“Gabe,” she says, tears spilling over her lower lashes as she looks away from me. “I can’t exactly afford a lawyer.” I realize with a start that I’ve never heard her say my first name. I was always “Wilson” to her, the buddy she could joke around with in school. What happened to that mischievous girl?

“That’s okay,” I reply softly, resisting the impulse to put a hand on her arm. “I’m not one.”

At this, her eyes snap back to my face. She looks more puzzled than ever. She searches my eyes for a moment, as if testing my sincerity. She seems to be struggling with herself.

“Is there really a chance of keeping the house?” she asks finally, regaining control of her voice.

“I think there’s a real chance.”

I can hear my dad and Adam talking just on the other side of the bank’s front doors. They’ve obviously decided that this conversation has gone on long enough. I don’t want to rush her, but we need to make a plan.

“Can we meet sometime to go over the paperwork?”

Kayla breaks my gaze and stares down at her sneakers, clenching and unclenching her fists. “All right,” she says. “You can come by my place at 9:00 tonight. You still know where I live, right?”

I nod.

She walks towards her car, but turns back before stepping inside.

“But if your legal advice is anything like your driving…”

There it is. She got in a last crack after all. But was I imagining it, or did she give me the smallest hint of a smile?

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