Water from Stone - a Novel (36 page)

Later, she hears the sound of the front door slamming, as if someone rushed into the house. The overweight hamster pauses in his endless run. Within moments, the air inside the house settles and,
crick-crick-crick
, the hamster once again runs.

Her father parts the pearl cascade that guards Lizzie’s door. “Mar, it’s time to go.”

Mar knows that, pending the judge’s decision, this could be the last time she’ll ever see her daughter sleep. She wishes she had taken Lizzie and run.  Mar looks up at her father.  Don Bloom’s eyes are filled with tears. “Daddy, no.”

Her father, looking older and more tired than she’s ever seen him, reaches out a large hand to her.  “I know, Sweet Pea, I know,” he says, “but we can’t keep the judge waiting.”

One-Hundred-Two

Jack.

Across town, Jack cuts his face shaving. His eyes had been on the photograph that is wedged between the hotel bathroom mirror and its frame, and his thoughts had been miles away, lifetimes away. The slice of the razor startles him back to the present and he watches as crimson blood blooms through the white of his shaving cream. As the red spreads to pink, he remembers how it had all started and his stomach heaves. It had all begun with blood.

He wipes away the last of the shaving cream and examines the cut. It is wide, but not too deep, though the bleeding hasn’t yet slowed. He presses a washcloth to his face and reaches for the photograph. She looks so young. She had been so young.  It kills him to think that this is as old as she’ll ever get and that he’ll continue to age without her. Still, Jack had made her a promise to bring her child home. As she lay dying, he had promised her that, the only thing he’d had left to promise her. Today he’ll find out if he can make that promise come true.

In the bedroom, Jack finds a suit, shirt and tie laid out on the bed.  Caroline, still trying to be his girlfriend as well as his attorney. He bites off a curse. He can pick out his own damn clothes. Quiet confidence, Jack, is what she’d recommended the night before. And when we win? Stay calm. No one will like it if you rub it in her face.

Jack sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands. He doesn’t feel confident. He wonders what Mar is feeling and then immediately shuts that thought down. What she is thinking or feeling doesn’t matter. Can’t matter.

Still, true to her word, and much to Caroline’s surprise, Mar hasn’t mentioned a thing about DeJon to either the press or the judge. She’d been there for DeJon when he himself hadn’t been. She’d even gotten through to him when he himself hadn’t been able to. It shames Jack.

He is right. He knows in his heart of hearts that Lizzie belongs to him. He knows the law is on his side, can foresee the judge’s verdict. Unfortunately, though, he also knows Stan had been right. Sometimes being right is much different than doing right.

Jack thinks back to his younger years, to his parents always helping out. The banks could foreclose, it was their legal right to do so, on farm loans, and they did. So many families totally wiped out. Still, his father did everything he could, usually free of charge, to keep the banks at bay, to work out a payment plan, to find a way around the law. Hell, that’s where Jack had learned it, to defend the underdog. And, he had to admit, if he hadn’t been personally involved in this one, he’d have been the first to line up to defend Mar’s rights, to help her to find a way to keep Lizzie.

Is he wrong wanting Lizzie with him? No. But then, he isn’t right, either.

Later, Jack exits the elevator. It feels strange not to be carrying a briefcase, though the weight of the photo in his pocket is heavy enough. He strides across the hotel lobby to where Caroline waits for him. She is dressed in a gray tailored suit and there is no mistaking the confidence in her bearing. As he approaches, he watches her appraising him. When her eyes hit his tie, one slim eyebrow reaches toward the heavens. He is wearing the suit she’d laid out for him, but not the tie. Today, he is wearing a tie Lindsey had given him. It is decorated with flying pigs. Jack smiles grimly and waves at the door.  “Shall we?” he says. 

One-Hundred-Three

Mar.

Mar waits until the last possible moment to enter the packed courtroom. She doesn’t want to sit there, to feel the weight of so many eyes on her back.  As she enters, she nods gratefully to her many friends who have come to support her, and tries to ignore the din and press of reporters. On the drive to the courthouse, she’d vowed not to look at Jack, but as she nears the gate, her eyes flick to him regardless. His back is turned to her, yet, from the way he is sitting, he appears relaxed and confident. Mar feels her fear spike. And then his barracuda of an attorney looks up at her with those icy green eyes and smiles. Mar’s steps falter and it is only Don Bloom’s tightening grip on her elbow that keeps her moving forward.  She passes through the gate and sits heavily in the chair her attorney holds out for her.

For the next several minutes, Mar sits frozen in her seat.  She keeps her eyes closed, as if not seeing the courtroom can mean she isn’t there. Below the table, her fingers shred the soggy handkerchief Diane had slipped her. When her attorney leans in to ask a question, Mar ignores her.
Please, please, please
, the litany drums through her head. She takes a deep breath and digs her nails into the palms of her sweating hands. 

There is a rustle of activity at the front of the court and Mar begins to panic. She bites back on the moan that is building in her throat and forces her eyes open just as Judge McClaine comes swinging through the doors to the bench.

  “All rise,” the bailiff calls.

One-Hundred-Four

Mar.

After the preliminaries, Judge McClaine looks out at the assembled group. His eyes pause on Mar and she feels herself shrink. Stacey nudges her under the table and Mar sits up straight before the judge’s eyes move on.

“This case, this one before me, is absolutely the worst I’ve ever seen,” Judge McClaine begins. “In most cases, the issues are black and white, and I’m not talking about skin color, though that was the case that taught me that there is right, and there is right,” he says, making a reference to Max. “I mean, what is right is usually pretty clear, and we have laws written to support that. Here, though, now,” he shakes his head, “there is no right. A mighty injustice has been done to you, Mr. Westfield, and to your family. But not by Ms. Delgado. She had no part in that, and I’m happy to see that you finally agree and have withdrawn all your motions to that effect.” He looks over his glasses at Caroline, who chooses that moment to examine her pen.

The judge sighs and continues. “As I said, not by Ms. Delgado. By all accounts, she is every bit a victim in this as you. While you might say that she’s had the benefit of being with your daughter all these years, of watching her grow, while you haven’t, well, you’d have a point. But, again, it’s not because of anything she did that you’ve been denied that. I say she’s a victim just as you are because she’s now in my courtroom threatened with losing the daughter she loves. The child she had every right to believe would be hers forever. The child whose adoption papers I, myself, signed.

“Ms. Delgado, you, on the other hand, have to recognize that a terrible injustice has been perpetrated against Mr. Westfield. I know you do. And I know you understand that he has every right to want his daughter with him. And, of course, that brings us to the crux of this case.”

He shakes his head and sighs again. “You know, sitting up here, making decisions about people’s lives, it’s the worst job there is and, Mr. Westfield, I certainly wish you’d taken Ms. Delgado’s offer of mediation instead of putting this burden on my shoulders. There’s no justice in this case and, attorneys, don’t get your pants in a dither, I’m sure if there’s an appeal, one of you is going to use that statement against the other, but it’s a fact. There’s no justice that is fair to all. We can’t split this child down the middle, and the parties here have made it obvious they can’t, or won’t, come to any workable understanding between themselves. So, it’s an all or nothing thing.

“Before I tell you my decision, I want you all to know that I’ve done my job on this one. Thoroughly. I’ve spoken with Ms. McGowan there. Ms. Carruthers, please don’t give me that look. I certainly know you’ve been able to have her opinions voided as you claim collusion with Ms. Delgado in mishandling the adoption. However, as I’ve said, that has been dropped, and I’ve spoken to Ms. McGowan, whose opinions on child welfare I trust completely, and whose ability to separate the well-being of a child from her own personal interests has always been above reproach,” and he gives Caroline that look again. “Ms. McGowan believes wholeheartedly that it is in the child’s best interests, emotionally, to stay with her adoptive mother. She’s shared her files, and they support that the child was unresponsive and withdrawn before being placed with Ms. Delgado. But, as I know attorneys do, they’ll look for anything to jump on in order to fight for their clients, as I concede they should. I know Mr. Westfield’s attorneys would jump all over my verdict if I only took Ms. McGowan’s opinions into consideration. So, I’ve had other social workers, three, in fact, due to the complexity of this case, and child psychologists, you’ve all received copies of their reports, meet with Lizzie Delgado, a.k.a. Mia Westfield, to make their own determinations about her mental, physical and emotional health. I’ve also received reports from a court-appointed social worker in New York who assessed Mr. Westfield’s living conditions and his ability to support his daughter’s well-being should she move with him. And, of course, the same can be said for Ms. Delgado on this end. In all, you’ve all been poked and prodded and every single rock that could be overturned, has been, in an attempt to help determine what is best for the child.

“I have to say, that by all accounts, it appears that Ms. Delgado has done a fine job of raising her daughter and, listening to all the learned people who have studied the issue, she should be allowed to continue to do so.”

Mar gasps. They believe she should have Lizzie! She squeezes her hands so hard, she doesn’t feel her nails biting into her palms. Jack, across the aisle, also has his hands clenched, and is staring intently at the judge.

Judge McClaine finishes wiping his forehead with his handkerchief and replaces his glasses. “Before I go any further, and certainly, as parents, you will be allowed to make changes, do what you will with this decision, maybe offer visitation, etc., but it will not be at that point court-appointed visitation, it would only be a parent deciding what to do with his or her child. What I’m saying, is that the experts were very clear that it’s not in the child’s best interests to be pulled back and forth. She needs to be settled in her home, to be sure of her surroundings, sure of her parentage. That being said, I’ve decided against joint custody.”

Mar turns to her father and grins. She’s not only won, but she had the sure, firm support of the courts behind her. She begins to beam. If it weren’t for the anchoring weight of her Stacey’s hand on her arm, she’d jump up and whoop for joy!

The judge looks down at her, realizing, belatedly, his mistake. “I’m sorry, Ms. Delgado, you seem to have misunderstood me. While the caseworkers were very clear that you are doing a splendid job with the child, they can find nothing that would suggest that Mr. Westfield would not do an equally fine job raising his daughter. And the courts have already made clear that he lost his child not through any actions of his own, but as a result of a crime perpetrated against him. That, taken into account along with the precedence of such cases as the notorious Baby M case, among others, leaves me no choice but to return full, legal custody to the child’s father, Mr. Westfield. I’m truly very, very sorry, Ms. Delgado.”

Both Mar and Jack jump out of their chairs and shout, “No!” Mar, however, immediately sinks back down, all ability to stand gone. It is another twenty minutes before she is recovered enough to sit at the table, to hold back her tears, during which Jack and Caroline hold a heated, though quiet, argument on their side of the room.

The judge, having returned to chambers during the drama, returns to the bench. He leans forward and glares at Jack.

“There seems to be a bit of a disagreement with my decision,” he begins, “and, while it is no longer debatable, unless the parties involved choose to appeal, I am very curious because it seems that both sides are unhappy. Mr. Westfield?”

Caroline jumps up. “Your Honor, no, that was a misunderstanding. My client is very happy with the verdict. Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Actually, I’m not,” Jack says.

“Jack,” Caroline hisses, “shut up!”

“Ms. Carruthers, please, I’d like to hear what Mr. Westfield has to say for himself.”

“I, um, I think Mar, Ms. Delgado, is a fine mother, has been a wonderful mother. I think my daughter should continue to be raised by her. Though I, of course, want full access to her.”

“Mr. Westfield, are you saying you’ve just wasted this court’s valuable time?”

“No. I mean, yes. Maybe. It’s just very confusing. I’ve been confused.”

“Mr. Westfield, as a father, I can tell you, it is very confusing. I’m confused all the time with my own children. However, this is a serious matter. I’ve never heard of the prevailing party immediately asking for an appeal because they want to be the losing party.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor, it’s all been a terrible mistake.”

“Your Honor, please, my client’s been under a great deal of stress. Please disregard him,” Marion Jenson, Jack’s local attorney, begs.

“Yes, I believe he has,” the judge acknowledges. “I believe everyone has. However, that’s not going to change my decision. Again, I’m sorry, Ms. Delgado. Mr. Westfield, you’ve asked for this court’s decision and you’ve received it. If you’re not happy with it, I’m sorry, but now you’re going to have to live with it. The thing that worries me greatly, though, is that you’ve now forced not only your daughter, but Ms. Delgado to live with it, too. I suggest you do some serious soul searching and find it in yourself to be as good a parent to that child as has been Ms. Delgado. Court adjourned.”