Page 84 of After the Rain

"More than you think. You've been so focused on your own situation that you missed what's happening in this community. Half this town thinks what happened to you is wrong, and they're ready to do something about it."

Jazz pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like a contact list. "Brook's organizing a strategy meeting. Dr. Vasquez wants to testify about the real research on kids in LGBTQ+ families, not the biased garbage they brought to court. Even Pastor Mitchell from up in Portland is driving down—turns out Ezra’s Uncle John has strong opinions about using faith as a weapon against families."

“Ezra’s Uncle getting involved?" The idea of Ezra's uncle taking on the Fletchers made something hopeful stir in my chest.

"That man's been fighting for inclusion his whole career. He sees this as a chance to show that Christianity and acceptance aren't mutually exclusive." Jazz took a long sip of whiskey. "Question is, are you ready to fight back, or are you going to sit here drowning in guilt and self-pity?"

I stared at Cooper's abandoned toys, thinking about my son's confused questions during our brief phone call after the hearing. Why couldn't he come home? Why were people saying mean things about Daddy and Mr. Mitchell? Why did love have to be so complicated?

"I won't let them win," I said, and the words felt like the first true thing I'd spoken since leaving the courthouse. "Cooper deserves better than growing up thinking love is something tobe ashamed of. And Ezra deserves better than being collateral damage in someone else's war."

Jazz's grin was fierce and proud. "There's the Wade Harrison I know. Now finish your whiskey and let's go save your family."

Brook's house buzzed with the kind of energy I hadn't felt since Cooper's birthday party—people talking over each other, making lists, planning strategy. But this time, instead of party decorations and cake, we were plotting a counterattack against institutional prejudice.

I arrived to find the living room packed with unexpected allies. Parents from Cooper's school, teachers I barely knew, business owners I'd worked with over the years. Mrs. Patterson, whose daughter Emma had been in Ezra's class. Tom from the hardware store, who'd always seemed like the conservative type. Even old Mr. Kowalski from down the street, who'd never spoken more than five words to me since we became neighbors.

"Jesus," I whispered to Brook as she led me through the crowd. "Where did all these people come from?"

"You'd be surprised how many people believe in fairness over prejudice," she replied. "You just never had reason to find out before."

Brook orchestrated the gathering with military precision, moving between groups with clipboards and coffee, making sure everyone understood their role in what she kept calling "Operation Family Values"—a name that made several people snort with laughter.

Dr. Vasquez, the child psychologist who'd evaluated Cooper for the school district, approached me with the kind of determined expression that meant business.

"Wade, I need to apologize," she said without preamble. "I should have spoken up during the hearing when they brought in those so-called experts to testify against your family."

"Dr. Vasquez, you couldn't have known?—"

"I could have and should have. The science is clear on children raised by gay parents—no difference in development outcomes, and often higher levels of tolerance and empathy. What the court heard was prejudice disguised as expertise, and I have the research to prove it."

She handed me a thick folder of studies, reports, and peer-reviewed articles. "I'm willing to testify about the actual research, not the cherry-picked garbage they presented. Your relationship with Ezra isn't harming Cooper—if anything, it's showing him that love comes in many forms."

The validation hit me harder than I'd expected. For days, I'd been drowning in doubt, wondering if the Fletchers were right, if my selfishness in pursuing happiness with Ezra had somehow damaged my son.

"Thank you," I managed, my voice rougher than I'd intended.

The crowd fell silent as Sarah walked through Brook's front door, looking exhausted but determined. Conversations stopped mid-sentence as people turned to stare at the woman whose parents had started this whole mess.

"I know what you're all thinking," Sarah said, raising her voice to address the room. "Why should you trust me? My parents started this war, and I let them use me as ammunition."

She looked directly at me, tears bright in her eyes. "But I'm switching sides. I've seen what my parents are doing to Cooper, how confused and hurt he is living in their house. This isn't about protecting him—it's about controlling all of us."

The announcement stunned everyone into silence. Sarah defying her family meant more than just another witness—it meant someone with intimate knowledge of the Fletchers' true motivations was willing to expose them.

"Sarah," I said quietly, "you don't have to do this. I know what it costs to stand up to your parents."

"Yes, I do have to do this. Cooper asked me yesterday why Grandpa Fletcher talks about Mr. Mitchell like he's a bad person when Cooper knows he's good. How do you explain adult prejudice to a kid? How do you tell your child that some grown-ups think love is wrong?"

Pastor John Mitchell's arrival added a completely different energy to the gathering. Uncle John looked exactly like an older version of Ezra but carried himself with the quiet authority of someone who'd spent decades fighting for what he believed in.

"I drove down as soon as I heard what happened," he said, embracing me like family. "This isn't just about your relationship with Ezra. This is about what kind of community we want to be."

Uncle John's plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Instead of fighting the religious angle the Fletchers had introduced, he wanted to reframe it entirely.

"Faith should unite families, not tear them apart," he explained to the gathered crowd. "There are many of us who believe love is sacred, regardless of the gender of those who share it. I'm organizing religious leaders throughout the county to make this a religious freedom issue—the freedom to love and worship without persecution."

The idea of making our fight about religious liberty instead of just gay rights was strategic genius. Uncle John understood the political landscape better than any of us, knew how to speak to people who might be sympathetic but needed permission to support us.

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