The Nobody People by Bob Proehl (manga ereader TXT) 📕

argument was that she never actually crossed the border. Just showed up on the other side. Next week, I’m contesting an eviction notice on a single mom whose kid can all of a sudden talk to cats. This is the first case I’ve had with a white client.”

“Change of pace,” says Avi. Kay gives him a look he’s well familiar with. It’s the one that tells him he’s said something powerfully stupid.

“Everyone else I’ve represented was someone who was already hated,” Kay says. “If they weren’t coming after them for this, it’d be for something else. If they have time and energy to come after nice white ladies? It means they’ve learned to hate these people just for what they are, without some value-added hatred. It’s become worth hating all on its own.”

—

There is something angelic about Janet Goulding, whose real name is Janine Coupland. The papers back home call her the Angel of Montgomery. Avi wonders if Janet’s ability seeps out of her like radiation. If by being around her, people are healed. He hopes this comes across to the jury. That like him, they can’t help but feel better around Janet. He hopes this makes a difference.

“I’m saying this for the last time,” Kay tells her. “I think this is a bad idea.” With Kay’s permission, Avi is seated right behind them, privy to their conversation.

“I know, sweetheart,” Janet says. When she says it, it comes across as two distinct words. Sweet. Heart.

“I think it’s better if you don’t mention the dice,” Kay says. “If you can avoid mentioning them.”

“I’m going to answer his questions,” Janet says. “I’m going to tell the truth.”

“Of course tell the truth,” says Kay. “But you can decide what parts of it. They will hang you on the dice.”

The prosecutor calls Janet to the stand. He calls her Janine because that’s her given name, the one she’s being tried under, if not the one she prefers. It’s who she was when she lived here, in Helena, Montana. Kay tried to get the case moved to Montgomery, where Janet is literally worshipped. There are altars to her in the hospital parking lot. Before she was arrested and extradited to Montana, people made pilgrimages to Montgomery to see her. They brought their children before her, their elderly mothers and their dying fathers, all of them like offerings. She sent them away well and alive, and they thanked her. They called her saint, and they called her angel.

Here in Montana, Janet is on trial for manslaughter.

“Can you please state your name and profession,” says the prosecutor. He’s burly, the way Avi imagines they breed them in Montana. He looks as if he’d be more comfortable in flannel and Carhartt than the off-the-rack suit he’s in. He’s a good guy from what Avi can tell. On the phone, he told Avi he’d rather not be doing this. It could have been an I’d rather be fishing type of line. Avi took it as sincere regret that it was his job to try to put Janet in jail.

“Dr. Janine Coupland,” says Janet. “I’m a surgeon at Montgomery General in Alabama. Before that, I was employed as a surgeon at St. Peter’s here in Helena.”

“When did you leave St. Peter’s?”

“Three years ago,” she says.

“And you changed your name at that time.”

“Yes, I changed my name to Janet Goulding,” Janet says.

“Why did you leave Helena and change your name?”

“People had discovered my ability.”

“You are a Resonant. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been…that way?”

“I believe I was born that way. But my ability manifested when I was fourteen.”

“And what is your ability?”

Kay stands up. “Objection,” she says. “Janet, you don’t have to answer that.”

Before the judge can speak, Janet turns to him and says, “No, I’m comfortable answering the question.” She looks back at the prosecutor warmly, as if he’s paid her a compliment. “I’m a healer.”

“Can you explain what that means?”

“The body wants to be well,” Janet says. “It wants to be whole and functioning. Sometimes things get in the way of that. Cancer. Viruses. Bullets. My ability lets me help a person’s body get back to the state it wants. I can guide it. Speed it along.”

“Can you give an example?”

“Do you have a knife?” The prosecutor pauses, flummoxed. “I lived in Helena for years,” Janet says. “Every man I knew carried a pocket knife.”

“Your honor,” Kay says, “I’d like a moment to speak with my client.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Janet says. Sweet. Heart. She looks at the prosecutor. “You can trust me.”

He pulls out his key chain, which has a Swiss Army knife the size of a nail clipper attached. He passes it to Janet.

“Give me your hand,” she says, flicking the blade open. The prosecutor holds out his hand, and she takes it as if reading his palm. With a deliberate motion, she traces a line across it with the tip of the knife. The jury gasps. The prosecutor doesn’t flinch. Janet sets the knife down on the rail. A thin line of blood wells up along the cut. She places her hand over his and closes her eyes. Then she lifts her hand and wipes away the blood with her thumb. There is no cut, only an expanse of calloused skin. The prosecutor holds his healed hand up for the jury to see.

The case should be dismissed right now, Avi thinks. Miracles are admissible.

“Thank you,” the prosecutor says, stammering. He turns away from her, rubbing his palm with his thumb. “Now, Doctor, is it true that in your last year of practice you haven’t lost a single patient?”

“That’s true,” says Janet. She wipes the blood on the hem of her shirt.

“But you’ve lost patients before?”

“Yes.”

“Have you gotten better at using this ability?”

“I have,” she says. “But that’s not what’s made the difference.”

This is what Kay wanted to avoid. There was a simple line of defense, which was for Janet to say that back then she couldn’t work her ability as well, and as a result