Night Road (35 page)

Lexi didn’t know how to respond. Of course he knew what was on her mind; he’d always known what she was thinking. She was breathing faster now; so was he, she noticed. She stared at his mouth and remembered how he’d looked when he smiled, and how much they used to laugh, and she felt the loss all over again.

“You never answered my letters.”

“What would have been the point?” she said to him. “I thought we’d be better off if we just forgot each other. And those first two years in prison were … hard.”

“I used to think about you all the time.”

Used to
. She swallowed hard, shrugged.

He touched her upper arm in a tentative, careful way, as if he were afraid she would either break or scream, or maybe he thought she wouldn’t want him so close. She stood there, staring up at him, realizing with a start that she wanted him to kiss her.

Fool
.

She stumbled back from him, needing distance between them. She’d been an idiot to get this close. From the moment they’d met, she’d given him her heart. How could she not have learned anything after all that had happened? “You let me go to prison,” she said to remind herself who he really was.

“I had no choice.”

“Believe me, Zach, you’ve always had choices. I’m the one who didn’t.” She took a deep breath and looked up at this boy—man—she’d loved from the first time she saw him, and the pain of their past was overwhelming. “I want Grace,” she said evenly. “I filed the papers today.”

“I know you hate me,” he said. “But don’t do that to Grace. She won’t understand. I’m all she has.”

“No,” Lexi said. “That’s not true anymore.” She heard a car drive up, tires spin on gravel, and she had no doubt about who had arrived.

Jude. Sweeping in to save her son and granddaughter from terrible Lexi.

“Good-bye, Zach,” Lexi said, turning away.

“Lexi, wait.”

“No, Zach,” she said without looking at him. “I’ve waited long enough.”

*

Jude was shaking as she strapped Grace into her car seat.

“Ow, Nana!”

“Sorry,” Jude mumbled. A headache had spiked behind her eyes, and she could hardly see. She texted Miles to get home ASAP and then climbed into the driver’s seat. But she couldn’t go home. Lexi knew where they lived.

“How come I’m goin’ home early, Nana?” Grace said from the backseat. “Was I bad again?”

Home. That was it.

She drove—too fast—to Zach’s cabin and parked beside his truck. Once there, she took Grace in her arms and hurried inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

The sliding glass door was open. The whole place smelled of the beach at low tide. Zach stood on the deck, looking out at the Sound.

Jude carried Grace into her bedroom and put her down on her bed. Handing her a well-worn copy of
Green Eggs and Ham,
she said, “Read this for just a minute, okay? I have to tell your daddy something, and I’ll be right back.”

Jude left the room and closed the door behind her. Then she went out to the deck and approached her son. She could tell by his stance—his shoulders rounded in defeat, his hands plunged deep in his pockets—what had happened. She hadn’t gotten here in time. “Lexi was here,” she said bitterly.

“Yes.”

“She wants another chance, but we don’t get one. Mia will always be gone. I can’t look at the girl who killed her every day.”

Zach looked at her. “Grace is her daughter, Mom.”

The simplicity of that made Jude catch her breath. She felt suddenly as if she were hurtling toward a precipice, as if they all were. It scared her to her bones; in the past years, they’d healed just enough to survive. They couldn’t go through it again.

She’d watched from a distance as her immature, coltish boy had become a man. Grief had shattered him; fatherhood had put him back together.

She flipped open her cell phone and called the friend who had been their lawyer for years. “Bill. Jude Farraday. The girl who killed Mia is out of prison, and she’s filed a petition to get custody of Grace … tomorrow? Great. See you then.” Jude hung up the phone.

“Grace is unhappy,” Zach said, and the heartbreak in his voice was terrible.

“Lexi isn’t the answer, Zach. She’s the cause. Remember that.” Jude touched his arm. He needed her to be strong now. Maybe he’d needed that for years and not had it, but she would be there for him now; this time she would protect him.

Twenty-three

The next morning, Jude woke up early and dressed carefully.

“It’s not a funeral,” Miles said when he saw her in the kitchen.

“Really? It feels like one. I’ll meet you in the car,” she said, hurrying away from him. The last thing she wanted to hear right now was his moral superiority or more endless questions about what they were doing. Of course, the Zen Master wanted to explore the idea that bringing Lexi into their lives could heal them. Last night, when they’d gotten home from Zach’s, she’d actually told him to shut up for the first time in their marriage.

He’d learned his lesson, apparently, because he said nothing as they picked up Grace at kindergarten, dropped her off at the Silly Bear, and drove into Seattle.

At one o’clock, Zach joined them in the lobby of the Smith Tower, and by ten past, they were seated in a corner office that overlooked Elliott Bay and Pine Island. From this vantage point, the island was a mound of thick green forests floating on a steel blue sea; it looked uninhabited.

“Scot had the petition delivered to my office,” Bill said when they’d finished with the pleasantries. “Alexa Baill is seeking to modify the parenting plan in which Zach has full custody.”

“She wants to take Grace away from me?” Zach asked, sitting very still. “She thinks I’ve been a bad father?”

“No, actually. She is seeking joint custody,” Bill answered.

“How can she do that?” Jude asked. “She gave up custody when Grace was born.”

“Parenting plans are rarely set in stone, Jude. In this case, Alexa will need to show a substantial change in circumstances—which getting out of prison certainly provides.”

“So what will happen?” Zach asked.

“First, we’ll have what’s called an adequate-cause hearing, which establishes only that her circumstances have changed enough to move forward. Next comes the motion for a temporary order. This will establish the custody or visitation rights pending trial. Realistically, it will be at least a year before we actually go to trial. A guardian
ad litem
will be appointed by the court to determine what the best interests of the child are and to represent Grace’s interests.”

“It sounds expensive,” Miles said. “How can she afford that?”

“Probably a Legal Aid lawyer. Or someone might handle the case pro bono,” Bill said.

“At best she’ll get visitation rights; at worst, joint custody. Know this, though: the court will be pushing for reunification with the mother unless she’s clearly unfit or poses a danger to Grace.”

“You’re saying she’ll be a part of our lives forever,” Jude said.

“She already is,” Miles answered. “She’s Grace’s—”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Jude hissed at her husband. To their lawyer, she said, “But she
is
unfit. She abandoned Grace at birth and never even sent her a birthday card. She has no job, no family around here. Her own mother was a felon and a drug addict. Who’s to say what friends she made in prison? We wouldn’t want Grace exposed to people like that.”

“Mom,” Zach said, straightening. “Come on. That’s not even fair. Lexi is nothing like her mother.”

“You have to fight her on this,” Bill said, giving Zach a steely look. “You’re a father now. Not a high school kid. Your job is to protect Grace; to do that, you need to preserve your rights. If Alexa got custody, even partial, who is to say she wouldn’t take off with Grace? And she made a choice, as I understand it. She’s never communicated with Grace. Not once. That doesn’t exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling about her parenting. We have to do what’s in your daughter’s best interest. At least for now, we have to keep her away from Grace.”

“Absolutely,” Jude said.

“How is that in Grace’s best interests?” Zach said. “Lexi is her mother.”

Bill opened a file. “I’ll tell you how it’s in her best interests. I’ve read Alexa’s prison record, Zach, and it’s not pretty. There are reasons she served an extra six months. Fighting. Not following the rules. She was found buying drugs in prison more than once. Valium, I believe, among others. You know who she was, Zach, but prison changes people, and it looks like your Alexa made some bad choices there. You don’t know her anymore. Do you really think Grace is safe around a person like that?”

“Drugs?” Zach said, frowning.

“And with her family history. I don’t think she’s the girl you remember, Zach. She spent a lot of time in solitary confinement. She broke a woman’s nose,” Bill said. “She could actually be dangerous.”

Zach sat back in his chair, sighing heavily. “Drugs,” he said again, shaking his head.

“We’ll fight her,” Jude said. “We have no choice.”

Bill nodded. “Good. I’ll file our response and let you know when the adequate-cause hearing is scheduled.”

*

“I’m hurting them again, Scot,” Lexi said, pacing her lawyer’s office.

“Yeah,” Scot said. “I imagine they don’t want to be reminded of … what happened.”

“What I did.”

“What you did isn’t the sum total of who you are, Lexi. We’re not even talking about you here. This is about your daughter. You love her, and she needs you. That’s what you have to focus on now. That’s what you can control. The Farradays’ grief is their problem.”

She had been ruined again by just seeing Zach. Wanting him made her want to run away again, to hide. How long would she love him?

“I saw how much Zach loves her,” Lexi said softly.

“It’s not about him. Or them. Or what you did. It’s about Grace. What does it feel like, Lexi, when a mother turns her back on you?”

Lexi stopped pacing and looked at her lawyer. “Thank you. That puts it in perspective.”

His intercom buzzed. Scot reached forward and picked up his phone. “Hey Bea … Bill Brein, huh? Okay, thanks.” Hanging up, he opened his desk calendar and wrote something down. Then he looked up at Lexi. “You’re going to need to be strong, Lexi.”

“I’m trying.”

“Really strong,” he said. “They’re fighting back.”

*

Two days later, Lexi was back in a courtroom. Just stepping through the doorway brought a flood of painful memories. So much so that when Scot asked Lexi to dress in black, she said no. She would not re-create that day. Instead, the day before the hearing, she went to the thrift store again and purchased a flared, ankle-length sea-green skirt, a barely worn V-neck sweater that was only a shade or two lighter, and a pair of bronze sandals.

In her new, feminine clothes, Lexi tried to feel unlike the girl in black who’d once been taken out of a room like this in chains.

She felt Scot come up beside her. He touched her arm gently.

“They’re here,” he said.

She felt herself straightening; the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She tried not to turn, but how could she stop herself? That gravitational pull toward Zach was too strong.

Lexi’s heart leaped a little at the sight of him. The suit he was wearing was the same one he’d worn to the homecoming dance; now it pulled across his chest.

Can I kiss you, Lexi?…

She looked away from him, tried to forget. She and Scot walked up to the table on the left side of the courtroom; Zach joined his lawyer at the table across the aisle from them.

The commissioner was the last to enter. He was a portly man with a shiny bald head and rimless bifocals that rested over a veiny, bulbous nose. His bailiff, an elegant Asian man in uniform, smiled brightly as he took his place near the bench.

The commissioner smoothed his robes and sat down. “We’re here for adequate cause,” he said, rifling through the paperwork on his desk, finally finding what he needed. “Modification of a parenting plan. Mr. Jacobs?”

Scot stood up, whispering for Lexi to do the same. “Ms. Baill is petitioning this court for a modification of the parenting plan. In 2004, Ms. Baill was an ordinary high school senior, in love for the first time, and looking forward to college. Her exemplary grades and academic record earned her a scholarship at the University of Washington. At eighteen, she had dreams of becoming a lawyer.

“One bad decision on a summer night changed everything for both my client and the Farradays. Although Zachary Farraday had promised to be the designated driver at a high school drinking party, he failed to keep his word and became inebriated. His twin sister, Mia, also drank all night. And so, tragically, Alexa offered to drive the Farradays home. It was less than a mile away.

“In the crash, Mia was killed. At the time, I counseled Alexa to plead not guilty and fight for her freedom, but Alexa is a deeply moral young woman with a profound sense of right and wrong. So she pled guilty and went to prison, hoping her incarceration would help atone for her mistake.

“She didn’t know then that she was pregnant. Originally she planned to give the baby up for adoption, but Zach surprised her by offering to raise their daughter. She was so grateful and so guilt ridden over Mia’s death that she agreed to give Zachary full custody.

“In prison, Alexa earned a bachelor’s degree in sociology, and she hopes now to get a master’s degree in social work, so that she can help other teenagers who face difficulties in their lives.

“She is a wonderful young woman, and I have no doubt that she will be an exemplary mother to her daughter. The state has a strong interest in reunification of mothers and their children. In this case, it is absolutely clear that my client has substantially changed her situation and deserves to be reunited with her daughter.” Scot touched Lexi’s arm, said, “Thank you,” and they both sat down.

Across the aisle, Bill stood up. In the small courtroom, with its dull walls and scuffed floor, he was an imposing figure, with his expensive gray suit and stern profile.

“There can be no adequate cause to modify the parenting plan here. Ms. Baill went to Purdy for DUI vehicular homicide. A class-A felony.” He paused, looked meaningfully at Lexi. “Purdy, Your Honor. That’s less than an hour’s drive from Pine Island. She did not have to be cut off from her daughter’s life. She
chose
not to be a mother. When Zachary Farraday wrote her letters about their daughter—even sent pictures—Ms. Baill sent the envelopes back unopened. She wrote no letters to her daughter and made no phone calls. Throughout the entire duration of her incarceration, she never once attempted to communicate in any way. A former cellmate of Ms. Baill’s—a Cassandra Wojocheski—will testify that Ms. Baill told her point-blank that she never intended to see her daughter.

“It’s hardly surprising, this lack of a mothering instinct in Ms. Baill. Her own mother was a felon and a drug addict. For all we know, Ms. Baill has a drug problem herself.

“In conclusion, we ask that the custody agreement remain in place. Ms. Baill is not a fit parent, and her circumstances are not significantly changed from the time when she voluntarily relinquished custody of her child.” Bill nodded once and sat down.

The commissioner tapped a pen on the desk.

Lexi could hardly breathe for anticipation. Bill’s words had loosened a poison in her bloodstream. She could feel it burning through her veins.

“We have adequate cause to move forward here,” the commissioner said. He opened the laptop on his desk and made a few keystrokes as he peered at the screen. “We’ll set a trial date of April 19, 2011. Does that work for counsel?”

Both attorneys agreed.

“A year?” Lexi whispered. “That can’t be—”

“Hush,” Scot said sharply.

The commissioner went on. “Until then, let’s move on to the motion for temporary order to begin reunification. I’ll appoint a guardian
ad litem
to investigate the issues and interests herein and to report the finding to this court.” He flipped through some pages. “I’ll appoint Helen Adams. If she has a scheduling conflict, I’ll let the parties know. And now, to the temporary plan. Mr. Jacobs?”

Scot stood up again. “Ms. Baill is seeking immediate reunification with her daughter and asks that a temporary order of joint custody be entered.”

Bill stood up. “That’s patently ridiculous. Ms. Baill has no job and no money and nowhere to live. How can she possibly take the responsibility of joint custody for the minor child? Additionally, Ms. Baill has no parenting skills. As I pointed out previously, her own mother was an addict who abandoned her, so Ms. Baill knows nothing about positive parenting. Perhaps after some parenting classes she would be ready to assume some limited custodial care, but not now. Also, we should overlook neither Ms. Baill’s bad behavior in prison—she was repeatedly sent to solitary confinement in 2005 for fighting and drug use—nor the flight risk she poses. Her only family is in Florida. Who is to say she won’t try to take Grace away with her? She’s already shown a disregard for the laws. We submit that there should be no visitation and no attempt at reunification until the parenting plan is modified next year. That will allow Ms. Baill time to show her true desires with regard to parenting.”

“Your Honor!” Scot said, rising. “That’s punitive on its face. Ms. Baill does not have a drug problem. It’s—”

The commissioner held up his big hand. “I am going to allow supervised visitation between your client and her daughter. Because of the severity of this situation and the extreme separation that has occurred, a professional reunification specialist will supervise every visit unless one of the child’s relatives agrees to be present. Between now and the trial date, this court will receive regular reports from the GAL.” He hit his gavel on the desk. “Next case.”