A Lasting Impression

someday, perhaps. But coming back to Nashville is going to be difficult for her, no matter how much time passes. I believe—and Mildred agrees—that encouraging a few more months of rest would be prudent. Judging from what your mother wrote, staying with your aunt is pleasant and like a good tonic.”
    Sutton started to comment, then nodded instead. If his mother wanted to present her relationship with Aunt Lorena as pleasant and like a good tonic—he could hear her using those exact words—so be it. But he knew better. Still, he missed her.
    But her return to Nashville would be far more difficult now. For them both.
    When he and Holbrook reached the crossroad where they were to part ways, Sutton started on ahead, then reined in when Holbrook spoke his name.
    The elder attorney fingered the rim of his black hat, his expression growing sober. “Don’t attempt to contact the review board directly, Sutton. You’ll not only be going up against some very powerful men, you’ll be challenging an edict from the United States government.”
    Sutton nudged his thoroughbred closer. “A government that murdered my father, robbed him of his honor, and burned his home to the ground. And that now aims to destroy his name and everything he spent his life working for. That’s not the government of a more perfect union, sir.”
    “No,” Holbrook said. “But it is de lege lata. ”
    Sutton sighed, familiar with the Latin phrase. What the law is. “And what about de lege ferenda. ” W hat the law ought to be.
    Holbrook’s gaze was unyielding. “It takes time to heal a nation. Especially when the hearts of its people are still wounded and bleeding. On both sides.” He leaned forward. “As I remind myself every morning . . . ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’ That same Lord ordains that we obey the laws of the land and submit to our rulers. And the—”
    “But when our rulers are bent on—”
    Holbrook held up a hand. “May I please finish, Mr. Monroe?”
    Stung by the gentle rebuke and mindful of what Bartholomew Holbrook meant to him, Sutton nodded. “Yes, sir. My apologies.”
    A telling gleam lit Holbrook’s eyes. The old man enjoyed arguing a case as much as he did.
    “As I was saying, the Lord calls His people to be just, flawed beings though we are.” A bushy eyebrow rose. “But government, in and of itself, can no more be fair and just than any one of these businesses here.” He indicated the storefronts lining the street. “Justice does not reside in institutions, Mr. Monroe. But in the hearts of men. If those men seek Him with all their hearts.” His eyes narrowed. “And that, my promising young friend, is what I am petitioning the Lord for on your behalf. That the review board will seek God’s face, and that they’ll rule on this issue justly. But I’m also praying that you would seek justice within your own heart as well, and make peace with the past, whether justice comes in the guise you expect, or not.”
    As always, Bartholomew Holbrook spoke eloquently, but Sutton still found himself wanting to argue. Yet from years of experience—and having heard the church bell toll three times, meaning he was going to be late for his next appointment if he didn’t hurry—he knew it would be pointless.
    Today, anyway.
    He dipped his head forward. “I’ll take your counsel under strictest consideration, sir.”
    A sad smile crept over Holbrook’s face. “You’re like a son to me, Sutton. You’re bright and talented, more capable than I ever dreamed of being at twenty-seven. And no matter what it feels like now, you will recover from this loss. Don’t allow yourself to be consumed with the same hatred that prompted those men to kill your father. If that happens, they will have won for a second time.”
    Hearing the faint and cherished voice of his father in the man’s counsel, Sutton had to look away. He tugged at the edge of his collar.
    Holbrook reached over and gripped Sutton’s forearm. “I know your legal plate is rather full right now with work for your esteemed employer, but I have a proposition for you. One I believe you’ll find most intriguing. And likewise, at least I hope, most difficult to turn down.”
    Sutton waited, his interest mildly piqued.
    “It’s a case that, if I were younger, I wouldn’t dare share. Not even with you, dear boy.”
    Sutton smiled, his interest holding steady. He was familiar with Holbrook’s persuasive powers.
    “It will involve a great