When We Are Weak

By J.N. James

Physically limited by a horrific accident, Tristan Meyers is doing all he can to re-enter normal life and find a purpose for living. In the fight to get out from under his overprotective mother, his next-door neighbor might be just what he needs. When retired veteran Darnell Cole is forced to protect himself from a shady lawyer with a land-greedy client eyeing the Cole property, Tristan finds new motivation to grow through his weakness. Little does he know that being a hero doesn't come easy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: OutLaw Cross
• Release date: Sep 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301374847

J.N. James

J.N.James is a Southern writer but travels throughout the mid-west as well as the south-eastern United States. In recent years, James has made multiple trips to Asia and longs to return. When not writing, he loves hiking and spending time with his wife and children

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When We Are Weak

Copyright 2012 by J.N.James

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

J.N.James

Visit my website at www.outlaw-cross.com/J.N.James

September 2012

An OutLaw Cross Publication

www.outlaw-cross.com

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Chapter 1

Tristan Meyers sat on his front porch and watched bats fly in and out of the light of the streetlamps. Their quick darting flight never failed to amaze him. Tonight it seemed that the moths and other summer insects had the upper hand as only a handful of bats frantically chased after a cloud of bugs.

Eat them all, thought Tristan. A mosquito buzzed in his ear, the whine causing him to jerk and flail wildly. A small citronella candle burned on the porch rail at his elbow, but this bugger was not to be denied. A short, vicious battle ensued with Tristan finally emerging as the victor, a small bloody splotch of legs and wings on his sleeve the only reminder of the annoying enemy. We need more bats, he thought as he wiped the bloody splotch on his jeans, grimacing as he thought of what his mom would say if she saw that.

The Meyers' house was on a quiet street on the edge of Elyton, a suburb of Birmingham. Their backyard butted up against the larger property of their neighbor, Darnell Cole. He owned everything from here to the highway over half mile away, straight back through the yard. The mosquitoes, large and hungry, were a product of the small pond and surrounding wetland area. Mosquito Heaven, as Darnell liked to call it. He had dug the pond at his wife's request over twenty years ago, part of a larger unfinished project to turn the property into a farm for troubled teens. Rebecca had plans to build a dormitory and recreation center and surround it with gardens and small animal hutches, maybe even a few horses. Her hope was to volunteer her own time, and Darnell's, after retirement, reaching out to needy young people around the state.

Rebecca's plans had been waylaid by cancer shortly after the pond had been dug. The next twenty years were on-again/off-again battles that she had finally lost three years earlier. In all that time the land had sat there turning into an impenetrable wilderness and a major league mosquito factory.

* * *

Tristan was still sitting on the porch when Darnell pulled in from his midnight run. Tristan, amazed that Darnell could run at all much less so far and almost every day at that, looked down at his own skinny legs and thought of how long it had been since he had run anywhere. He looked up and watched as Darnell climbed the stairs. For an old man he moved really well. The running shorts gave his sinewy thighs no cover, but most men half his age would be proud to have them.

Good run? Tristan asked as Darnell settled into the old rocker with a sigh.

Oh, yeah. Got the heart really poppin' tonight. Darnell grinned. Went down Washington Street. Haven't been that way in awhile. Darnell's voice was rough southern and jagged. Whenever he heard Darnell, Tristan had the mental image of an old knotty pine talking.

Tristan shook his head. Don't let Mom hear you say you went there. She'll take your head off. What's it like this time of night anyway? Tristan was curious. He read the paper daily, and almost half the police reports documented some activity on or near Washington.

Darnell took a deep breath. It's a lot different than it used to be. Not so many hard core thugs since that raid last March, but there are still a lot of the college kids looking for something to liven up their parties. And of course there are the lowlifes that gather to sell it to them.

Tristan nodded. He wasn't sure how Darnell recognized the lowlifes and tried to picture them in his mind. His experience with the lowest in society was limited to the thugs who sat in back of class in high school. Fortunately for Tristan, he was a good student and soon took classes that were devoid of the back of class bullies.

How's the obstacle course working for you? Darnell asked.

Freakin' hard. Tristan shook his head as he remembered trying it out earlier in the day. I don't think you could get through it, so how am I supposed to?

Darnell laughed. It's not for me. I'm old. You're still young. Got your whole life ahead of you.

Mom thinks your obstacle course is dangerous. She doesn't want me to go near it.

Hmm, life's dangerous. I get the feeling she doesn't want you to go near it either.

Tristan thought about that, finding it hard to disagree but wanting to continue the argument.

Darnell, now an accepted member of the family, went inside and poured his own glass of iced tea without asking. Nobody made better iced tea than Karen. He had many disagreements with Karen, more so since building the obstacle course, but Darnell thought Tristan needed to get out and move more, push himself to the limits so he would learn what they were and what he could do to push them further out. He viewed Tristan's handicap as a challenge, not a life-ending, soul-crushing barrier to life. But then Darnell thought of himself as a soldier. He had fought one battle after another his whole life. He naturally expected everyone else to as well. Karen still viewed Tristan as her baby. Even though he was 28, his accident had put him in a position where he literally couldn't live without her for several months. He was past that now, but both had grown comfortable with their roles as redefined by his new, more limited abilities. Darnell thought Tristan had just gotten lazy.

As part of Darnell's self imposed role as life coach, drill sergeant, and adviser in chief, he had built an obstacle course in his own backyard and challenged Tristan to do it. He used his yard because he was certain that Karen would have it dismantled if she could.

Tristan had looked at it suspiciously for a long time, agreeing with his mother that it looked dangerous. But he could only take so much time sitting around watching videos and reading before he was ready to try something new. It had almost come to an early end when he fell the first time on it and bent his leg brace. The thrill of a new challenge and hopes of progress had gotten to him however, so even though Karen had forbidden him to attempt the obstacle course or ever speak to Darnell again, Tristan had made it a daily practice ever since. When he described it to his therapist, the man was at first concerned. Seeing how much it motivated Tristan, he soon switched sides. He calmed Karen's fears and tried to give Tristan advice about how to conquer the course. Eventually he even modified his own time with Tristan, making it a short term goal for him to make it through the obstacle course.

Tristan had never made it more than halfway, but even Karen had finally admitted it was doing him good to get out. And he was getting stronger.

I was thinking about watching Debt of Honor tonight. Wanna see it again? I bought microwave popcorn while I was out today. Extra butter.

Haven't you seen it fifty times already? Tristan laughed. Darnell was a war buff. Any war, any time period, he loved war and warriors. It was rumored that he had a movie collection that included every war movie ever made. When he wasn't watching them, he was reading histories of famous battles. To Darnell, war was an extended metaphor for life.

* * *

The law office of Charles Krieger, attorney at law, was a small one. Lori White opened the door, finding it even smaller on the inside than it seemed from outside. As a law student seeking a summer internship, Lori competed with the best and brightest students in an already crowded field. Having failed to place in one of the school's official paid internship programs, she had fallen back on Plan B: Find someplace close to home.

Krieger's office fit the bill. It was officially the closest law office to her grandparents' small farm just outside Elyton. Looking around the small office and waiting for the secretary to finish her phone call, Lori thought proximity might be its only plus. With all her money going to pay her way through college, she would need to share her grandparents' car for the summer. Being this close would allow them to drop her off occasionally, making it easier to be without her own transportation.

Lori took note of her surroundings while she waited. Dark paneling gave the lobby a closed-in feeling. The dim lighting from table lamps may have been an attempt at hominess, but all it did was give the office the shadowy bleariness of a cave. Seeing a line of dirt on the edge of her chair's arm rest, she made a mental note not to place her arm there.

The receptionist held up a finger, indicating she would be off the phone soon. She was a brassy blond, wearing a dress that wouldn't be out of place at a reunion of overweight divas. She had bright gold bangles on both arms, and Lori noticed her fingernails were extremely detailed beach scenes, complete with palm trees.

The receptionist placed the phone down with a flourish and turned her attention to Lori.

Hi, sweetie, what can I do for you? And don't tell me you're here for a divorce. You are much too young and pretty for any man to be fool enough to let you leave yet. Barbara Hall, according to her name plate, had the look of a former beauty queen. The touch of humor in her voice made Lori instantly warm to her.

No, ma'am. My name is Lori White, and I am a student at the University of Alabama. I am looking for a summer intern position. I live here just outside of town and thought somewhere close to home would be nice. For some reason she felt the need to explain why she was here, in this office. The need amplified as the secretary's look of incredulity grew with each word.

When she finished her prepared introduction, she put on her pleasant waiting face and hoped for the best. The secretary just looked at her for several moments, making her nervous. Perhaps she should have called first.

Sweetie, in twenty years of working in this office, you are the first person to come in looking to intern here. Are you sure you are in the right place? One eyebrow made a perfect, carefully drawn arch. Lori was briefly distracted by the height it reached.

Mmm, I think so. This is the law office of Charles Krieger? The name is on the door. It was a statement that came out as a question.

Yes, Barbara said. It was a long drawn out word. Lori thought she had never heard such a long yes before. Or one with such hidden meaning. When it seemed nothing further was coming, Lori continued.

Is it possible to talk to Mr. Krieger? I would be willing to work long hours and do any work needed during the summer. I have never worked in a law office before, but I am a fast learner. She hurriedly shoved it all out before she lost her nerve.

Barbara blinked several times and finally seemed to return to the present. You mean you actually want to work here? She eyed the young woman before her. Have you ever met Charlie? The good humor in her voice was back.

No, ma'am.

Okay, sweetie. You are obviously desperate, and I recognize desperate, having lived on that street most of my life. Why do you really want to work here? This office is a dump, Charlie is a jerk, and he won't pay you beans. There is no good in this for you.

Hearing all of this laid out for her helped Lori over her initial fear. She sighed slowly.

You're right. My grandparents live ten minutes away, and I live with them. I didn't make it into any of the good internships and need to both make some money and get some experience, even a bad one, on my resume. She looked at Barbara, seeing understanding in her kind eyes. This is the closest law office to my grandparents. I can work here and share their car. I can serve tables at LB's anytime I'm off. I need this internship.

Barbara smiled. I thought so. You came at the right time. Charlie is out.

Lori looked at her, confused. But won't I need to talk to him?

Unfortunately, you won't be able to avoid talking to him. I try daily, but he is more than a little obtuse.

I don't understand.

Barbara laughed. Sweetie, I have worked for Charlie for twenty years. He handled my first divorce and gave me a job. Since then he has taken care of two more for me, and I now run this law office, at least the day to day routine. He couldn't do it without me. If I left tomorrow, he wouldn't be able to find his schedule for next week, much less figure out which clients owe him how much. I am secretary, treasurer, legal aid, and most importantly where you are concerned, office manager. She beamed. And I have just decided that Charlie needs to hire me an assistant.

* * *

Power oozed off