Having Faith (2 page)

"I will, if that's " what you truly want. But as a lawyer, I have a moral obligation to try to salvage the marriage before we end it. " She couldn't stress the point enough. " As an officer of the court in this state, I have an ethical obligation to do that. No-fault divorce doesn't mean that the marital gates should swing open and shut with the flick of a finger. " She paused.

"Some people come to me after years of marital counseling and months of discussing divorce. You and your husband haven't done either of those things--at least, not to my knowledge. Have you ever had marital counseling?"

"No."

"Have you ever considered divorce before?"

"No. I told you. I trusted him. I was completely taken in."

Faith looked down at her hands, laced and unlaced them, then sat back in her seat.

"You had a shock this morning when you found that note.

Sometimes a shock like that starts certain wheels moving. They pick up speed and propel you towards something that, if you were to stop and really think about it, you might not want. "

Laura clutched the lip of her purse.

"I want a divorce."

"You haven't even slept on the thought."

"I want a divorce."

"Are you sure that there isn't the slightest chance of a reconciliation?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I can't trust Bruce anymore. I want a divorce. Will you represent me?"

Faith recognized stubbornness when she saw it, but she had a stubborn streak of her own.

"I'll represent you, but only if you go home and think really hard about what you want to do. Today's Friday. If by next Tuesday you still feel that there's no hope for the marriage, I'll help you get your divorce." When she saw Laura pull a checkbook from her purse, she held up a hand. "Wait until Tuesday. If the divorce is what you want, I'll take a retainer then."

"I thought you'd want the money now," Laura said in surprise.

"Aren't you afraid that after taking up your time today, I may turn around and go to another lawyer?"

Faith smiled. It was a tired smile, subdued by her headache, not in the least bit smug. But it held pride.

"You may, and that's your choice. I think, though,

that I offer something unique. I'm a woman and I'm tough. I also happen to get along with most every judge I've faced, and that's what's different here. I'm not strident, like some of my colleagues.

I'm not militant. I'm a professional, and a professional gets results.

So if results are what you want, you'll be back. "

Laura Leindecker left shortly after that, which was none too soon for Faith who immediately went off in search of a painkiller. Her secretary didn't have any, but she'd half expected that, since Loni was as close to a flower child as a 1990's woman could be. She was sweet and extremely capable, and Faith found a nostalgic charm in her dedication to all things natural and pure, but she had no painkillers.

Nor did Monica, the colleague with whom Faith shared the suite of offices and Loni.

So Faith returned to her desk, determined to beat the headache with sheer willpower, and set about answering the phone calls she'd deliberately left for the end of the day. Several of them were difficult and required adjunctive calls, such as the one to the client suing for custody of her eleven-year-old son, whom she'd just learned was picked up for shoplifting in the local five-and-dime, or the one to the client who had shown up in a hospital the night before with injuries from a beating given her by the husband who, by order of the court, had been forbidden to approach her.

Sheer willpower didn't have much of a chance against emotional situations like those, and by the time Faith hung up the phone, her headache was no better. So she closed her eyes, put her head in her hands and concentrated on relaxing. But it had been a hard week, and her tension reflected that. She was grateful it was Friday.

Though she had plenty of work to do over the weekend, the pace of weekend work was different.

Buoyed by that thought, she reached for a small recorder to dictate several letters. Loni had left for the day, which was fine for the letters since they didn't have to be typed until Monday. It wasn't so fine for the phone. Before Faith had a chance to turn the line over to the answering service, she received back-to- back calls that were both tedious and time-consuming. By the time she finally hung up the phone, she'd just about had it.

That was when the buzzer rang in the outer office. Someone was at the front door of the suite, locked now that Loni was gone. For a minute.

Faith considered ignoring it. She considered curling up in a ball in the corner of the sofa, burying her aching head under her arms and shirking every legal responsibility she had. Last time the buzzer had rung after hours, though, it had been a seventeen-year-old girl who had seen Faith on television and wanted help in stopping her parents from making her abort the baby she carried.

Rubbing her temple, Faith left her office. She was barely into the reception area when she felt a wave of warmth. The face beyond the glass door was a familiar one, not a client, but a friend.

She opened the door and smiled up at the tall, darkhaired man who stood there.

"Sawyer," she said, almost in a sigh. She slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug. "How are you?"

"Better now, sexy lady," he drawled, squeezing her tightly. Then he held her back.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"Work. Always work."

"You work too hard."

"Look who's talking," she scolded, but she was delighted he was there.

Taking his hand, she drew him into the office.

"I haven't seen you in months. How can that be. Sawyer? We work in the same profession. We work in the same specialty. We even work in the same building. Why don't we ever bump into each other?"

"Good question," he decided.

"I think you're avoiding me."

"Me? But you're my best friend!" When he arched a brow, she amended that to, "My best boy friend." When his mouth quirked, she said, "Male friend. My best male friend. I wouldn't have made it through law school without you. Or made it through those early days at Matsker and Lynn. Or had the courage to leave there and go out on my own."

"The feeling's mutual. Faith. You know that." He gave her a quick once-over in appreciation of the fact that she looked professional but individual. Both qualities applied to her practice as well.

"I'm proud of you," he said with a grin.

"I'm really proud of you. You've done well for yourself."

As she held his gaze, her own grew melancholy.

"I suppose."

"What do you mean, you suppose? Look at your practice."

"That's what I've been doing. All week long."

"And you have a headache," he said, suddenly seeing it in her eyes as he'd done countless other times when she'd been under strain.

"And," he went on, "you don't have anything to take for it. Why don't you ever buy aspirin?"

"I do. It's at home."

"But you don't need it there. You need it here." Taking her shoulder, he ushered her to the sofa and pushed her down.

"Stay put. I'll be right back." Before she could protest, he was out the door and jogging down the hall to the stairs.

She had to smile. Sawyer wasn't an elevator person any more than she was, which was, in fact, how they had originally met. Uptight but eager first-year students, they had literally bumped into each in a stairwell at the law library. Once they'd picked up the scattered books, papers and themselves, they'd started to talk. Though Faith had been black-and-blue for a week from the encounter, the friend she'd found in Sawyer had been worth the discoloration.

She took elevators more now, particularly after hours or when she faced a climb of four or more nights in high heels. Sawyer's office was six floors up. But he was a man, a tall, broad-shouldered man who wasn't worried about rape. Nor was he wearing high heels.

Chuckling at that thought, she put her head back, closed her eyes and sat quietly. In a matter of minutes, Sawyer was back with the pills in his hand. He took a cup of water from the bubbler and waited while she swallowed the aspirin. Then he leaned against Loni's desk with his long legs crossed at the ankles.

"It really is pretty amazing," he remarked.

"What is?"

"That we don't run into each other more. I miss seeing you. How've you been?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Not bad. Busy. That's good, I guess."

"It is good. How are things at home?"

"Quiet," she said in a voice that was just that.

"Lonely sometimes, but it's better this way. More honest. Jack and I went in different directions. For too long we pretended something was left, but it wasn't." She rested her head against the sofa back, but her eyes were fixed intently on Sawyer.

"You know what I mean, don't you."

Sawyer knew. And he knew Faith knew he knew, because she'd known his wife. Joanna had needed Something else, too. They were married soon after he returned from Vietnam, and for two years she nursed him back to health physically and emotionally. She was good at her job. He had recovered, gone through law school and entered a profession in which he thrived. Joanna hadn't known what to do with the strong and independent man he became. In the end, she found someone who needed her more.

"She married him," he told Faith.

"The fellow with MS?"

He nodded.

"She'll devote her life to him. I admire her for that."

"Do you talk with her often?"

"Nah. She's busy. I'm busy. She knows she can come to me if she ever runs into trouble. I owe her a lot. I think I'll always feel that way.

But we weren't very good at being husband and wife, and after a while, the constant trying was a strain. "

Faith thought about the irony of two divorce lawyers being divorced.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Did we go into this field because we knew firsthand the pitfalls of marriage? Or did we see the pitfalls of marriage because we went into this field?"

"Had to be the first," Sawyer decided without pause. "We were both having doubts about our marriages even back when we were in law school."

"Not really doubts. Frustrations, and they weren't all that bad. It's just that we talked about them, you and I. Some people don't. Some people suffer year after year in silence. Just this afternoon I met with a woman who wants to end a twenty-four-year marriage. She was telling me that" -He held up a hand.

"Shhh. Don't say it."

"There's not much to say, just that she never thought to" "--Careful, Faith. That woman is one of the reasons I'm here."

Faith frowned.

"Laura Leindecker?"

"Bruce Leindecker. I'm representing him in the divorce."

"You're representing Bruce Leindecker?" Faith repeated. Slowly she sat up. As understanding dawned, she broke into a cautious smile.

"You and I" -her finger went back and forth "--are going to be working together?"

"Yup."

She dropped her hand to her lap, and her smile widened.

"After all this time. I don't believe it." In the next instant, the smile vanished.

"Can we do it? Don't we know each other too well?" But she answered herself in the next breath. "No. There are no grounds for conflict of interest as long as neither of us compromises his client by saying too much. Right?"

"Right," Sawyer said. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Good thing you stopped me a minute ago."

"Uh-huh."

But she was confused.

"Who told you I was defending Mrs. Leindecker?"

"Mr. Leindecker."

"How did he know? It's been barely two hours since the woman walked out of here, and we don't even have a formal agreement."

"She seems to think you do. The minute she left you, she called her husband to gloat."

Faith squirmed a little inside. "Gloat--was that his term or yours?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Because it's wrong. Laura Leindecker was angry and hurt. Even if she was the type--which I don't think she is--I doubt she was up for gloating."

"You underestimate the woman," Sawyer said like a man. "Have you ever met her?"

"No, but her husband knows her well. It sounds like gloating is among the mildest of her faults."

"Sawyer, that man cheated on her," Faith argued, immediately taking the side of her client, which was the rule of thumb in discussions between lawyers.

"She's been a loyal wife for twenty-four years and" -- "She has a martyr complex. She's prim and proper and not very flexible when it comes to her husband's business demands. Don't let her con you into believing that she's an angel. Faith. No man turns his back on an angel."

Faith's jaw dropped.

"I don't believe this. Are you saying that he was justified in philandering?"