The Closing: A Whippoorwill Hollow novel (The Whippoorwill Hollow novels) (20 page)

Judge Herring’s death was big news. The Virginia press swarmed over Buck County. Someone disclosed the details of the judge’s corruption, Jones’ falsification of evidence, and Nate’s pivotal role in the investigation. Reporters called Nate, but he made no comment.

The newspaper stories and television coverage that eventually came out didn’t bear much relationship to the truth. The press portrayed Judge Herring as completely corrupt. They described Jones as a well-intentioned but dimwitted soldier whose wooden understanding of good and evil and right and wrong made him susceptible to the misguided direction of a powerful authority figure like Judge Herring. As the story gained momentum, the judge became a criminal mastermind who preyed on a broken-down alcoholic defense attorney and a simpleminded patriotic deputy to send men to death row solely because he didn’t like them.

Judge Blackwell’s advice that Nate’s work would help him regain some of what he had lost came to fruition in the news coverage. Citing an unnamed “official in local law enforcement” as their source, reporters characterized Nate as a hero. None of the stories mentioned the rumored reasons for his resignation from his commonwealth’s attorney position. His checkered past didn’t fit the theme the media advanced. In the news stories, he was a savvy former prosecutor who switched sides late in his career to defend innocent indigent criminal defendants. He was portrayed as a man who was especially sensitive to corruption and abuse of the justice system because of his long tenure as commonwealth’s attorney. The stories credited his prosecutorial expertise, guile, and ingenuity for dethroning the self-coronated king of Buck County, and in the process, the media anointed him as one of the state’s most talented criminal defense attorneys. Some of the details publicized about his investigation, such as the reference to the judge as the king of the county, led Nate to conclude that George Maupin was the media’s unnamed source.

Nate didn’t feel like a hero. Judge Herring was dead. Betsy Herring was living in a personal hell through no fault of her own. Clarence Shifflett was a broken man. Deputy Jones was dead. Some unknown public official, who directed Jones to falsify evidence and murdered Henry Crawford, was still on the loose. Nate felt responsible for these tragedies, but he did nothing to undermine his reputation as a hero in the hope that the publicity would impress the only person who mattered to him.

That hope was dashed on Monday morning at the final settlement conference in his divorce case. Howard and Christine met with Judge Greene in chambers first. The judge then sent them to wait in the courtroom while he met with Nate. Nate and the judge sat across from one another at the conference table. “As I feared,” Judge Greene said, “your affair with Miss Partlow has embittered Christine since our last meeting. Howard says she’s no longer willing to settle the case. At this juncture all I can do is set a trial date. I’m sorry, Nate.”

“There’s no need for a trial. I’ll give Christine whatever she wants.”

“What do you mean?”

“She can have everything—the house, the farm, the bank accounts, all of it. I’ll pay whatever amount of alimony she wants.”

“Are you sure you want me to convey an open-ended offer like that? Christine is angry and hurt. She may demand the lion’s share of your future earnings.”

“I don’t care about the property or the money.”

Judge Greene tapped his knuckles on the conference table. “Very well, then. I’ll present your offer to Howard.”

“There’s one condition. I want to talk to Christine alone before a divorce decree is entered. I want to talk to her this morning in this room, just the two of us.”

The judge paused. “I don’t believe your condition will be acceptable to her.”

“Those are my terms. She gets whatever she wants. I get nothing except a meeting with her.”

“I’ll talk with Howard.”

Judge Greene left the room. Nate went to a window and looked outside. The sky was clear and azure blue. He recalled the first time he saw Christine, his first dates with her, their wedding day. They were so young then. Now they were growing old. More of their lives was behind them than ahead, and so much had happened between them—Nate’s crimes, his affair with Rosaline, the drinking. He wished he could go back to that first day at the cross-country meet. He wished he could live it all again and do it right this time. He wished he could give Christine the love and respect she deserved.

“I have a counterproposal from Christine.” Nate turned. The judge stood by the door. “Because you offered to release your interest in the property, Christine doesn’t want alimony.”

“What about the meeting?”

“She will agree to meet with you, but only under certain conditions which are not negotiable. She won’t meet with you alone. Howard, the bailiff, and I will be present. The meeting will be here in chambers. Now. For no more than fifteen minutes. You will sit on the far side of my conference table. She will sit on the side closest to the door. The bailiff will stand at the head of the table. He’ll be armed. If you make a move toward Christine, the bailiff will have instructions to subdue you.”

“I won’t hurt her.”

“She’s not willing to meet without the bailiff standing over you.”

“What I have to say to Christine is private.”

“I’m sorry, Nate. Those are her conditions.”

Nate went to the conference table and sat down heavily in the chair closest to the wall. “I accept her conditions.”

The judge went out in the hall. The bailiff, Franklin Spears, entered the room. He was a black man in his forties. He was short, solid, and strong, with a shaved head. He had served as Judge Blackwell’s bailiff for years, and Nate knew him well. He shook Nate’s hand with a firm grip. “Mister Abbitt.”

“Hello, Franklin.”

Franklin propped his hand on the butt of a pistol holstered at his hip. “Mrs. Abbitt’s gonna come in now. She told me she had some trouble with you. She said you broke into her house, pushed her around.”

Nate looked down and swallowed. “I was drunk. I made a terrible mistake. I’ll regret it till the day I die.”

“Mrs. Abbitt wants you to understand there won’t be no trouble here today. I want you to understand that, too. Do you understand that, Mister Abbitt?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good.” Franklin moved to the head of the conference table. “Put your hands on top the table and keep em there long as Mrs. Abbitt’s in the room.”

“You know me better than that, Franklin.”

“I knew you once, Mister Abbitt, couple years ago. I don’t know you lately.”

Nate folded his hands on top of the table.

Franklin nodded to Judge Greene. The judge opened the door. Howard Raines entered the room with Christine clutching his arm, her eyes on the floor. Howard led her across the room to the table. She sat down and held on to Howard’s arm until he pulled it away gently and stepped back. Judge Greene and Howard retreated to a spot near the door and looked away from Nate and Christine.

Christine’s eyes remained downcast. Nate drank in the sight of her. He hadn’t seen her in so long, and he wanted her back so much.

Judge Greene said, “You have fifteen minutes, starting now.”

Nate tried to forget the others in the room. He struggled to find a starting point. There was so much he wanted to say, so much to atone for.

“Get on with it,” Christine said. “I won’t sit here one more second than I have to.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wanted to tell you . . . I know I’ve done . . . Christine, I’m so sorry for all I’ve done to you.”

“Is that what this meeting is about? An apology? Save your breath. There’s nothing you can say to excuse what you’ve done. Besides, your words mean nothing. You’re a liar.”

“Our marriage wasn’t a lie.”

“That’s precisely what it was, a lie that spanned thirty years.”

“The truth is I loved you for—”

“You never loved me. You loved yourself.”

Nate looked down and shook his head.

Christine said, “Don’t think you can play the role of the aggrieved bad boy who wants to be good again. You never loved me. Our marriage wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about us. It was about you—what you wanted, when you wanted it, and how you wanted it. You never loved anyone but yourself.”

“I understand why you feel that way. I failed you. I hurt you.”

“Oh, please, spare me your false pity. I’m way past the sappy tricks you played on me for so long.”

Nate struggled to maintain his composure. “Christine, please.”

“You don’t get it, do you, Nate? You don’t understand who I am, who I’ve become because of you. It must be difficult for you to make the adjustment. You manipulated me for thirty years. You think you can still say the right words, cobble together a few artful phrases, make a superficial apology, and I’ll fall into place where you want me, like I always did. Well, that day is gone, Nate. I know who you are now. It took me a long time to see the real you. I suppose I was the last person in Selk County to find you out, but I know you now. I know you and I hate you.”

“I can understand your bitterness.”

“No, you can’t. You can’t begin to understand my bitterness.” Christine’s lips trembled. “I met with her, you know, your secret love.”

Nate put his hand over his eyes. Franklin tapped the table. Nate returned his hand to the table.

“What’s the matter, Nate? Does it trouble you that Rosaline and I met? Why? You should have known she would come to me some day. You drove her to me. You lied to her. You told her you loved her. You promised her you would leave me to be with her. You broke her heart. She told me everything, Nate, all of it. We discovered how much we have in common. You lied to both of us. You stole both our lives.” Christine’s eyes glistened. “We both loved you.” She wiped tears away. “And we both hate you now.”

“I’m sorry about Rosaline.”

“You’re sorry all right. You’re sorry you got caught.” Christine almost broke down. She put her hand to her mouth and struggled to hold herself together.

Nate felt helpless and hopeless.

There was a long silence. Then Christine said, “Do you have anything else to say to me, Nate?” She looked at her watch. “You’ve got eight minutes. After that, I get my greatest wish. I’ll never see you again.”

Nate gathered what strength and resolve he had left. “Let me talk for a few moments. Don’t cut me off. Please.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Just listen to me. Please, Christine. Hear me out without interruption. Give me a chance to say my piece.”

Christine’s eyes were as hard as stones. “Fine. I’ll sit here while you talk to yourself if that will bring an end to this ordeal.”

Nate confronted the look of hatred on her face and said, “All the years we spent together I loved you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I loved you,” he said, “whether you believe it now or not. The years went by. Too fast. I looked up and I was suddenly old and something went wrong. I guess I wanted to be young again. I don’t know. I didn’t understand what was going on inside me then and I don’t understand it now. All I know is I was afraid. And desperate. I drank. I drank to silence the screams of panic inside my head. I drank more and more, but I couldn’t drink enough to drown my fears. I did terrible things when I drank. I hurt you when I drank.” Nate’s voice failed him. “I’m so sorry for all of it.”

“That doesn’t wash, Nate. You weren’t drunk the entire time you carried on with Rosaline and lied to me and concealed it from me. You can’t blame what you did on alcohol. That’s too easy.”

“I’m not saying the drinking caused the harm. I chose to drink. I’m responsible for what I did, but I wasn’t myself when I drank. I would never have hurt you if I had stayed sober.”

“You’re lying again. You’re lying to yourself to ease your guilt. Think about it, Nate. Why did you choose to drink? If you were afraid or confused or whatever it was, why didn’t you talk to me? We were husband and wife, a team, partners in life. If you loved me, why didn’t you turn to me with your fears? You didn’t. You turned away from me. You shut me out.”

“I was ashamed of my weaknesses. I was afraid and I didn’t want you to know I was afraid. I turned to the bottle for courage. It was a bad choice. My drinking got out of hand, and I lost myself.”

“Too easy, Nate. The bottle doesn’t explain Rosaline. Why did you turn to Rosaline?”

Nate hesitated. “I don’t know why I turned to Rosaline.”

“You’re lying, Nate. You know why. I know. Rosaline knows. She and I discussed it when she came to see me. Your selfishness drove you into her arms, your need for a new thrill to feed your boundless ego. You wanted someone new to admire you. You wanted someone new to see you as her hero, and you didn’t care who you hurt to get what you wanted. You didn’t think about her or me or anyone but yourself. You wanted a new conquest to boost your opinion of yourself, so you chased and caught Rosaline and she gave you what you wanted. She admired you and loved you. Until you tossed her away.” Christine hesitated, gathered herself, and said, “I loved you, too.” Her voice was low, quavering. “And you hurt me. You hurt me so much, but I didn’t know who you were then. I believed your lies then. Now I know who you are and you can’t hurt me anymore.” Christine took a deep breath and looked at her watch. “Time’s up.” She pushed her chair back from the table.

“I’m sorry, Christine. I’m sorry I was so selfish. I’m sorry I hurt you so much and failed you in every way, but you’ve got to believe me. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

“Really, Nate? Did you love me that stormy night when you forced your way into our home. You wanted to hit me that night. You almost did. I could see it in your eyes. Did you love me then, Nate?”

“I . . . I don’t . . .”

“What, Nate? You don’t know what to say? You? The grand-master wordsmith? The great trial lawyer who could convince a jury to believe black was white? You, of all people, are at a loss for words. Amazing, isn’t it? Did it ever occur to you there’s a reason for your uncharacteristic incoherence? The reason is clear. Clear to me. Clear to everyone except you. Your case has no merit, Nate. You have no merit. You are guilty, and there is no well-crafted argument, there is no impassioned plea, there are no words that can save you from the awful truth. We had a good life and I loved you, but it wasn’t enough for you. You ruined our lives, Nate. You—not some strange force that took you over, not some overwhelming fear of your age, not some mysterious psychological breakdown, not some mind-altering guilt-absolving sea of whiskey—you and you alone destroyed our lives. You and you alone did that to both of us, Nate, and you can never make up for it! Never!” Christine shouted the last words and a sob burst out. She put her hand over her mouth and stifled the sobs that would have otherwise followed. She stood and walked to the door.