Silver Serenade

by Gerry O'Hara

  As anxieties besieged her, Christie began to regret not sticking to her original decision to be in and out of Arizona as quickly as possible. Not having a rental car made escape impossible, but Margo had insisted on having Hal pick her up at the airport. Was Cash experiencing the same inner turmoil, or had he moved on? Forgotten her?

  After a while she sensed a shift in Hal’s manner. He stopped talking about Emily Anne, and an uncomfortable silence prevailed. Christie wanted to break it, but didn’t want to chatter. It wasn’t until they were out of the city traffic that Hal spoke again.

  “Margo told me that you and Cash split up. She said you have misgivings about his work. Now, you can tell me to butt out, but there’s something I want you to know.”

  Christie was taken aback. What was this all about?

  “Being a criminal defense attorney doesn’t mean Cash compromises his principles.”

  Hal’s words rankled. “I’m not naive. I understand his role in the justice system,” Christie replied. Did Hal think that she believed defense attorneys only handled innocent clients?

  “Let me tell you a story. It may open your mind.”

  Christie was ready to retort that she was already open-minded, but Hal continued before she could defend herself.

  “Cash got his start in the district attorney’s office. I don’t think you knew that. He doesn’t like to talk about it. He prosecuted some tough cases and won most of them. He was seen as a rising star. He loved the work, seeing justice meted out, being part of a system that worked. He didn’t think anything could be sweeter.”

  Christie wondered where the story was going.

  “Then he got a high-profile rape case. At first he was eager to prosecute; he believed rape was a vicious crime that needed a tough penalty. But as he went over the evidence, he began to wonder if they had the wrong person. He told me the case didn’t sit right. He raised doubts with his boss, but it was an election year. The case had gotten a lot of publicity. A conviction meant votes.

  “Cash was persistent in searching for the truth. He enlisted the detective who’d made the collar, and they reinterviewed a key witness. When the DA got wind of what was going on, he pulled Cash off the case and gave it to another ADA. The case went to trial and the young man was convicted. Cash came over to our place, distraught. He said that when the jury pronounced their verdict, that young man lost his entire future. Cash was devastated by the injustice. He handed in his resignation, and the following week he joined a criminal defense team. He filed an appeal on the young man’s behalf and eventually the verdict was reversed. Three years later, the actual rapist was apprehended.”

  Christie looked out the window. The countryside was a blur. It was hard to see through the tears that pooled in her eyes.

  “Christie?” Hal prompted.

  She was so filled with emotion she was unable to speak. Hal turned toward her questioningly, and she nodded. Too late, she understood. It wasn’t just about the Bobby Morenos of the world, it was about justice. And she knew that sometimes in that quest there were unsavory characters, despicable crimes. Perhaps Cash had to plow through those to make certain that one falsely accused person had his day in court.

  They arrived at the house. Before they were halfway up the walk, the front door swung open. Margo, framed in the doorway, called a greeting. Emily Anne was in her arms. Christie hastened to see the baby.

  “It’s so good to see you, Christie. Here’s your auntie, Emily dear.”

  Christie smiled at the child cradled in Margo’s arms. Elliot was right. Emily Anne was beautiful.

  They entered the house and Margo led the way into the kitchen.

  “I have a little snack for you. I heard that they don’t even offer peanuts on that flight nowadays.”

  A plate of sandwiches cut into quarters and a pitcher of iced tea were on the table. Margo handed the baby to Christie while she set out luncheon plates and napkins. Christie looked at Emily Anne closely and said that she was the cutest baby she had ever seen. Emily Anne was soft and smelled like a spring garden of talcum powder and baby shampoo. Her blue eyes were inquisitive, and her bowed mouth reminded Christie of an old-fashioned Kewpie doll. Her tiny fingers curled around Christie’s thumb and as she gurgled a melody, Christie insisted Emily Anne was trying to talk to her. Cradling the baby against her chest, she kissed her on the forehead.

  “Has Cash seen her yet?”

  “He was here last night. What a softie. He was cooing and spouting baby talk. His adversaries would have been shocked to see the way he acted. He took pictures of Emily Anne with his iPhone, and you would have thought that he was setting up a modeling portfolio. He shot her from every angle imaginable.”

  Margo reached for Emily Anne, and Christie felt a fleeting chill when her arms were empty. Would she ever hold a baby of her own? Experience the bond between mother and child? What is wrong with me? she wondered. She had been content with her life, had friends, was on a strong career path, lived in one of the finest cities in the country. Nothing had been missing. Not until Cash came into her life and added a new dimension to her world. Now he was gone, and there was an empty space in her days and nights. Each went by without significance. She no longer woke with the anticipation of being with Cash, feeling his arms around her. Without him, life was as bland as bread pudding without a dash of whipped cream or a spoonful of berries.

  “Christie?”

  “Yes, Margo?”

  “It isn’t too late to fix the rift between you and Cash. Don’t let him go. He loves you. He may not have told you in so many words, but it’s obvious to those of us who’ve known him a long time. It would be a terrible mistake not to fight to get him back. Unless you don’t care enough?”

  “I do care. I can’t concentrate anymore, can’t sleep. I’m a mess. But I don’t know how to reverse what has been done.”

  “One of you has to take the first step to repair the relationship. Go for it, Christie, or you will be sorry for the rest of your life. I’m not going to say any more. Now, how was your flight?”

  “Tiring. I had to be up early to get to the airport ninety minutes before flight time, then once on board there was a delay. Sitting on the runway for twenty minutes while a cadre of jets were lined up in front of us jangled my nerves.”

  “How thoughtless of me. You need to rest. Here I am showing off Emily Anne with no regard for your comfort. Finish your sandwich and you can take a nap.”

  Christie did not resist. One side of her told her to be a proper guest, but the other wanted to hide from any more talk about Cash, and whatever was a reminder of him. Yet everything in this house, including Margo, reminded her of what she had enjoyed and lost.

  An hour and a half later she rejoined Margo in the family room. Sunset was shooting vermilion swirls across the sky. Margo told her that Cash had called and had invited himself to dinner. Margo hadn’t had a chance to mention that Christie had arrived before he severed the connection.

  Hal came into the room with a tray. “Margo thought you might like a cup of tea. We usually have a cup around now. A few cookies, too, to hold us until dinner.”

  “Tell Christie the truth, Hal. We used to have a cocktail and snacks, but I’m nursing, so alcohol is out. I keep telling Hal that he and Elliot can have a drink without me, but sweet as my husband is, he insists that he likes our newly instituted teatime.”

  “I like playing the martyr role,” Hal said. “Makes me feel chivalrous.”

  The sound of the front door opening and closing gave Christie a jolt. Was it Cash? How would she react after all these weeks? Footsteps echoed on the tiles and she held her breath. Elliot walked into the room, his shirtsleeves splattered with paint. Christie breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Not too late for tea, am I?”

  “No, Daddy, Hal just brought the tray in. We have lemon cookies, too. Mama’s recipe.”

  “My favorite. Your mother made the best lemon cookies.”

  It was good to hear Elliot mention
his wife. Margo had told Christie that for months after her mother’s death, Elliot could not bear to hear his wife’s name spoken. His grief had prevented him from drawing comfort from pleasant memories. Elliot had dwelled on his wife’s death, the slow, inexorable march toward the end of her life. That had been hard on Margo, because she wanted to remember the good times, not the dying process. Christie surmised that the miracle of a new life had infused Elliot with new love and hope.

  “How are your art lessons coming along?” Elliot asked.

  “I’ve had to put them on hold. First the Farley case took up an inordinate amount of time, then the publicity brought a run of new clients.”

  “It would be a shame if you gave up.”

  “I’m going to try for a weekend seminar at Point Reyes. The instructor leans toward seaside locations, and that suits me.”

  “Christie is going to give us competition, Daddy,” Margo said.

  “I doubt that. But I enjoy painting and I’m glad that Margo pushed me into joining a class.”

  Margo smiled at her and was about to say something when the doorbell chimed. Christie tensed. Hal crossed the family room to answer the door. Voices in the entry. Cash’s deep voice. Jovial. Hal’s laughter. Two men who had been friends since childhood, and a wife and father-in-law who rounded out the familiar circle. Where do I fit? she wondered. On the outside was the answer. Definitely on the outside.

  Two sets of footsteps sounded briskly across the tiles, then were muted by the rug. Christie willed herself to look up, to meet Cash’s face, to paste a smile on hers. Act natural, she told herself, and wondered what natural was when your heart was breaking.

  Cash bent to kiss Margo on the cheek, chucked Emily Anne’s chin, shook hands with Elliot, and nodded in Christie’s direction. She tried to speak, to say hello, but her throat was constricted, so she simply nodded back. She wished that she were holding the baby—she needed a distraction, something or someone to focus on. Other than Cash.

  Hal offered Cash a mug of tea, and Cash clapped his friend on the back.

  “I never thought you’d become a teetotaler,” he said.

  “I’m starting to like it,” Hal replied.

  “He likes the cookies that come with it,” Elliot said.

  “Hal, you’re blushing,” Margo teased.

  The easy bantering between friends did not ease the tension that crackled between Christie and Cash. It only underlined the thought that raced through her mind: that she did not belong.

  Hal reached for the baby. Christie watched him kiss Emily Anne on the cheek as he brought her against his chest. “Sweet baby,” he cooed. Emily Anne’s little hands balled into tiny fists, and she waved them up and down. She sputtered and a bit of drool dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Margo handed Hal a washcloth and he dabbed at Emily Anne’s lips. The baby shook her head from side to side, resisting her father’s attempt to clean her. She scrunched her face into wrinkles.

  “She’s going to cry,” Elliot said.

  “Here, let me have her for a minute.” Cash took the baby, cradled her in his arms, and then gently positioned her so that her head rested on his shoulder. He patted her back as he rocked on the balls of his feet, crooning a soft melody. The baby burped and giggled, her mood reversed.

  “Hey, buddy,” Hal said, “you’re a natural.”

  “I’ve had a lot of experience with my sister’s kids. She wrangled me into babysitting when they were small.”

  Christie agreed with Hal’s assessment. The way Cash held the baby, the expression on his face, the gentleness in his hands, seemed natural. It was a side of him that was opposite his hard, professional persona. Perhaps this was his true side. His friends obviously were well acquainted with this part of Cash’s character—the important part, she theorized. If only she had recognized it sooner.

  Christie looked up. Margo was staring at her, perhaps appraising her?

  “How about giving Christie a turn with Emily, Cash?”

  Without a word, Cash’s expression went neutral. He carefully placed Emily into Christie’s arms. His hands brushed her shoulder and a lightning flash shot through her. He still had the power to make her tremble. She looked into the baby’s face. Innocent blue eyes stared back at her, and chubby hands flailed energetically. Christie stroked the back of the baby’s hand with her thumb. Emily Anne gurgled and Christie smiled. She turned to Margo and read approval in her face. Everyone was smiling at her and Emily, and Christie realized how contagious a baby’s smile and laughter were. She dared a glance at Cash and then quickly looked away, but not before she noticed he appeared more relaxed. His posture was no longer stiff. Perhaps they would get through this weekend without too much grief after all.

  In the morning, the household was abuzz. The christening was scheduled for eleven o’clock at the old church. After a quick cup of tea and muffins, Margo began primping the baby. Christie watched, spellbound, as the new mother brushed her baby’s soft fluff of hair, and clipped a pink-and-white bow on the top of her head. Margo asked Christie to bring her the white cotton-and-lace christening gown that was spread out on the bed.

  “The gown is a family heirloom,” Margo said. “My mother and I were both baptized in it. And now it’s Emily Anne’s turn.” Margo fingered the loops of lace that fringed the hem. The bodice was decorated with satin rosebuds, and a satin ribbon was tied in a bow at the waist. The skirt fell in yards of gathers.

  “It’s exquisite.”

  “My grandmother made it. She was an artist in her own right, don’t you think?” Margo slipped the dress over her baby’s head, eased Emily’s arms into the sleeves, and patted the dress into its full length. She fastened a trio of tiny pearl buttons at the back. “There.” She held the baby up for Christie’s inspection.

  “I’d say that it’s time to get out the cameras,” Christie said.

  “What’s that about cameras?” Hal said as he entered the room.

  “Your daughter is a star, and I think we need to record this moment for posterity.”

  “You’re right. I’ve got a brand-new video camera and Elliot put a new card in his digital. This is going to be the most-photographed baby in town.”

  It was a short drive to the church. Lilies decorated the altar. The christening party gathered in the sanctuary, and Emily Anne did not even protest when dipped into the baptismal water. Smiles flashed for the camera and photo after photo was snapped.

  Hal and Margo hosted a reception to celebrate their little darling’s baptism and their home was filled with happy chatter and tinkling glasses as toasts were proclaimed. Christie avoided contact with Cash by blending with a group of guests on the patio and joining in small talk and quiet laughter. She could not wait for the day to end.

  In the morning before Christie left for the airport, Elliot printed a set of christening photographs for her. Margo kissed Christie on the cheek, and told her that she expected to see her on Emily’s birthday, if not sooner.

  On the plane Christie tried to read a paperback she had picked up in the terminal, but it was impossible. She couldn’t concentrate, and after reading the same paragraph four times, she gave up and stashed the book into the seat pocket. She pulled a pair of earphones from her purse, shoved the plug into the jack in the armrest, and tuned in a soft-rock station. The music should have relaxed her, but thoughts of Cash intruded and would not go away.

  At San Francisco Airport, the jet couldn’t land quickly enough to suit her. She was a bundle of nerves, and she wanted to be home, snuggled with her cat. When the seat-belt signs were turned off, she reached under the seat in front of her and slid her overnighter out. She stood, ready for the exodus.

  She was glad that she had splurged on short-term parking and didn’t have to wait for a shuttle. She drove home through the last vestige of daylight. Before she turned the key in the door, she heard Tosha loudly meowing as though she had been abandoned for a week. Christie pushed the door open, dropped the carry-on to the floor, and swept the cat
into her arms. Tosha purred contentedly, mollified to at last be in her person’s arms.

  Sleep was elusive. Cash appeared in her dreams, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. She ran to him, but just before she reached him, he crossed his arms over his chest, laughed at her, then disappeared. She shook herself awake and in the hazy almost-morning light was overwhelmed by despair.

  Groggy, she dressed and put the kettle on. Even at this early-morning hour, Tosha danced at her feet, ready for a treat. She fed the cat and fixed tea. She carried the mug into the living room and sat on the couch.

  Pictures were fanned across the coffee table and she leaned forward and studied them. The snapshots chronicled happy scenes. Friendly scenes. A picture of her and Cash at the altar, with the baby between them, leaped out at her. Looking at the photo, a chill rippled through her. Elliot had snapped the picture, and the moment had been captured. For a few seconds, she and Cash had seemingly forgotten the chasm that divided them. In their mutual affection for Emily Anne, they had been joined together. Their eyes sparkled, their smiles glowed; for a few moments they were a couple again. Only for a few moments, she mused, only for a few moments.

  Regret swelled inside her. Regret for not allowing the good times to override the bad. Now it was too late. The sweetness was gone, and only bitterness remained. For a short time it had seemed that the anger and accusations that separated her and Cash had vanished. But the photos created an illusion; the trip back to San Francisco in separate planes had been a dramatic indication of reality.

  She picked up a picture of herself with baby Emily cradled in her arms; Cash hovered over her. Doting godparents: a typical Kodak moment. They looked like a couple, she thought. A happy pair. But the picture lied. She pressed the four-by-six-inch snapshot to her breast and the tears she had tried to hold back began to fall.