The Other Mothers (Chop, Chop Series Book 5)

by L. N. Cronk

  “What did Laci say?” Tanner asked quietly, once Dorito had resumed his gentle snoring.

  “About what?” I asked shortly.

  “About the United Nation’s summit on the world’s economy,” he said, sardonically, cutting his eyes at me.

  I glanced back to make sure Dorito was asleep.

  “She thinks this is all my fault,” I said.

  “How’s she figure that?”

  “She thinks if I had just let Savanna see him, none of this would have happened. She thinks we should just let Savanna see him whenever she wants.”

  “She does?”

  “Yeah. If she had her way about it we’d move down to Mexico and live with Savanna. One big, happy family.”

  “Oh, she would not!” Tanner exclaimed.

  “Yes she would!” I insisted. “You know what a bleeding heart she is! Plus she’s just been looking for an excuse to move back to Mexico.”

  “Laci wants to move back to Mexico?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I nodded. “She’s just waiting for God to tell me that that’s what He wants us to do and then we’re moving.”

  “Are you really thinking about moving back?” he asked quietly.

  “No, I’m not thinking about moving back!” I hissed, stealing another glance at Dorito. “I’m never going back to Mexico! Especially now that I know Dorito’s mother lives there! I’m gonna keep him as far away from her as I possibly can.”

  “But, Laci-”

  “Laci can just get over it,” I snapped.

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Maybe you could talk with this lady and tell her that she can see him if she promises to drop everything.”

  “Then it’ll look like we think she really does have a right to see him. It’s too late to go down that road now.”

  “But maybe if you and Laci try to-”

  “Tanner?” I interrupted.

  “What?”

  “Can we not talk about this?”

  He didn’t say anything, but he nodded his head slightly.

  “I just . . . I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about Savanna or lawsuits or Laci or anything,” I explained. “I just want to go fishing.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not trying to be rude.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No problem. I get it.”

  I felt myself relax.

  “Thanks,” I said, leaning back against the headrest.

  “Nothing’s gonna help you get your mind off your troubles,” he said, giving me a sly smile, “like getting out-fished by the Master.”

  It was a day filled with Dorito’s endless chatter, perch, walleyes, and bass. I stretched it out as long as I could, offering to buy lunch and then later dinner just so that I wouldn’t have to go home. When Tanner finally dropped us off that night, he came in to say hello to Laci and Lily. Laci was polite to Tanner, but the tension between the two of us was so thick that it was almost palpable.

  “We should go again, tomorrow,” I suggested as Tanner got ready to leave.

  “Sure,” he shrugged. (Tanner had never been one to turn down an opportunity to go fishing.) “Want me to pick you up after lunch?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s get up there about the same time we did this morning.

  “Okay,” he said slowly and I could feel Laci’s eyes boring holes through the back of my head.

  “We’re going again?” Dorito shouted, jumping into the air and clapping his hands.

  “No,” I said, quickly. “You’re not going this time.”

  “Why can’t I?” he whined.

  “Because you have church.”

  “Why don’t you have church?” he wanted to know.

  “Because I’m going fishing,” I told him, and I slept on the couch that night, too.

  Tanner and I spent all day Sunday at Cross Lake again. He didn’t mention one word about Dorito, the adoption hearing, the restraining order, or the fact that I was skipping church.

  Neither did I.

  When he dropped me off that evening he joined us for pizza (pretending he didn’t notice the fact that neither Laci and nor I were speaking to one another).

  After we’d eaten, Tanner followed me up to my office to get a duck stamp that I’d purchased for him a few days earlier.

  “Here ya go,” I said, handing it to him. He took it from me and put it in his wallet. Then he picked up a foam ball from my desk and shot it toward the plastic basketball goal that was mounted on the back of the door.

  The ball almost made it through the net, but hit left and bounced off the door and rolled toward the couch. Tanner went to retrieve it and that’s when he noticed the pillow, sheets and blankets that were there.

  He looked up at me.

  “Don’t start,” I warned.

  “I didn’t say a word,” he said, holding up his hand. He sat down on my couch/bed and tossed the ball back and forth from one oversized hand to the other.

  “What time’s the hearing tomorrow?” he asked after a minute. (The next day was the initial hearing about the restraining order.)

  “Ten,” I answered.

  “You still going?”

  I nodded. Madison had assured me that I didn’t need to be there, but I had insisted that I wanted to go.

  “Do you guys want me to watch Lily or something?” he offered. “I could take the day off if you need me to.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You’re taking her with you?”

  “No,” I said tightly. “Laci’s not going.”

  He looked at me for a long moment.

  “I’m going to get a sub,” he finally said pulling out his phone, “so I can go with you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Is there a reason you don’t want me there?” he asked, his phone poised in midair.

  “Well, no . . .”

  “Would you rather go alone?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Then shut up,” he said, poking at his phone and then holding a finger up to his lips. “I’m trying to sound sick.”

  ~ ~ ~

  SOMEHOW MADISON HAD gotten in touch with Reanna Justice on Friday afternoon and not only convinced her to take my case, but to fly in on time for the restraining order hearing on Monday. I met her right before the bailiff called our case.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said briskly, shaking my hand.

  “This is my friend, Tanner,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said to him, just as briskly.

  “Nice to meet you,” he answered, shaking her hand and holding it much longer than what I thought was necessary.

  Unbelievable. I shot him what I hoped was a disdainful look.

  “What?” he whispered innocently as we sat down directly behind Reanna and Madison. “I can’t help it if you’ve got hot attorneys.”

  I did my best to glare at him, wondering if he had any idea how thankful I was that he and his sense of humor were there with me. The bailiff called the courtroom to order.

  “The circuit court of Kawartha County is now in session,” he announced. “The Honorable Judge Trafford Goebeler presiding.”

  I looked at Tanner and Tanner looked at me.

  Trafford Goebeler? I mouthed discretely at Tanner. Simultaneously (and not so discretely), Tanner whispered, “Trafford Goebeler?”

  I don’t think Trafford Goebeler heard him, but Reanna sure did. She turned around and glared at him, her eyes shooting daggers.

  “Sorry,” Tanner whispered contritely, sitting back.

  I had a file folder on my lap. I wrote on it and showed it to Tanner:

  I think she’s very attracted to you.

  He grinned at me.

  The attorneys stated their names and who they were representing for the records and then dove right into their arguments about the restraining order. Savanna sat at another table with two men. Once of them was clearly her at
torney – he had introduced himself as Timothy R. Beckham. I didn’t know if the other guy was an attorney too or if he was just a translator, but he spent the entire time whispering quietly into Savanna’s ear.

  Just like Madison had predicted (and why she’d told me I didn’t really even need to be there today), the judge decided to leave the temporary restraining order in place until the hearing on Savanna’s request to set aside the adoption and the termination of her parental rights.

  “Are there any other matters to be brought before the court at this time?” Judge Goebeler asked.

  “Yes, your honor,” Beckham said. “We are requesting that the child immediately be returned to Mexico City under the mandates of the Hague Convention.”

  “What?” Reanna cried, clearly taken aback. “Your Honor, that’s absurd.”

  “Your Honor,” Beckham argued, “under the Hague Convention, the courts are required in cases like this to promptly return a child to their country of habitual residence to preserve the status quo arrangement that existed before the removal of the child from the country.”

  Reanna was shuffling frantically through a stack of papers. I glanced at Tanner, worriedly.

  “Your Honor,” Reanna said, putting the papers down and looking up at him, “under Article 13b, the court’s mandatory obligation to return a child to his country of habitual residence is changed to a discretionary obligation if there’s evidence there is grave risk that the child’s return would expose the child to physical or psychological harm or otherwise place the child in an intolerable situation. This child is almost nine years old and has resided with Mr. and Mrs. Holland – for all intents and purposes – for almost five years. During that time, he has never known any other parents. He is a well-adjusted, happy young man who has lived in this country for over three years. He is currently enrolled in the same public school that he has attended since kindergarten. Furthermore, the child is not even aware that a custody dispute has developed. To unnecessarily make him aware of this fact at this time would be psychologically devastating to him – not to even mention the trauma associated with removing him from his home.”

  “Your Honor,” Beckham interjected. “The primary intention of the Convention is to preserve whatever custody arrangement existed immediately before an alleged wrongful removal or retention.”

  “Your Honor,” Reanna said, “the child is currently in the same custody arrangement he was in before he was brought to this country. The respondent was not exercising custody at the time of the removal. Prior to the child’s removal from the country he had already been adopted by the petitioner. Furthermore, before returning to the United States, the defendant filed an orphan petition with the BCIS. This petition was approved and the child was issued an immigrant visa after which he accompanied his family upon their return to the U.S. Since that time, he has been considered a lawful, permanent resident of the United States. Mr. and Mrs. Holland had legal custody for a full year before returning to the United States.”

  “Again, Your Honor, the Hague Convention provisions for children who have been abducted or wrongfully retained-”

  “Objection, your Honor. There is no evidence that an abduction even occurred.”

  “The reason for our original motion, your Honor, is to show that the child was abducted from his biological mother and withheld from her without her consent or knowledge. Immediately prior to this, the mother had legal custody in Mexico-”

  “Your Honor, the Hague Convention only makes provisions for children to be returned to their country of habitual residence when they were abducted to a foreign country. This alleged abduction took place two years before the child was removed from the country. The Hague Convention clearly does not apply here.”

  The judge had finally heard enough.

  “The Court rules that the provisions of the Hague Convention do not apply in this case.” He looked over his glasses at Beckham. “Furthermore, the Court finds that the child’s return at this time to Mexico may expose him to psychological harm. Request denied.”

  Reanna whirled around, looked up to the ceiling, and mouthed something that looked like Thank you, God.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nothing at this time, Your Honor,” Beckham said.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Reanna said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Your Honor, we request that the date for the hearing for the respondent’s motion to set aside the TPR and adoption rulings be moved to a later date. Due to the unusual circumstances regarding this case, we anticipate needing considerably more time to prepare than what is currently being provided.”

  The judge rifled through some papers in his hands.

  “How much time does counsel need to prepare?”

  “Your Honor, we request twelve weeks.”

  Judge Goebeler looked at Beckham. “Any objections?”

  “Your Honor, Mrs. Escalante is in this country at her own expense and is currently away from her other biological children. It is our desire to resolve this matter as quickly as possible so that her entire family may be reunited at home. We are prepared to begin arguments in three weeks as scheduled and request that the date of the hearing not be changed.”

  Judge Goebeler peered over his glasses at both attorneys.

  “I’m assuming you’re each proceeding with independent DNA testing?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Reanna said.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Beckham said.

  “When do you expect the results?”

  “Next week, Your Honor,” Beckham answered.

  “Three to four weeks, Your Honor,” Reanna stated.

  The judge rubbed his hands across his lips in thought. Then he consulted his calendar.

  “Opening arguments will begin in eight weeks,” he finally decided. “Anything else?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Very well,” he said. “We’ll reconvene in ten minutes.”

  I looked at Reanna as the judge got up and left the courtroom.

  “Are we done?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he said we were going to reconvene.”

  “He meant court will reconvene,” Madison explained. “To hear the other cases that are on the docket?”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Idiot,” Tanner mumbled.

  “Right. Like you knew that,” I shot at him.

  Reanna looked at both of us as if we were eight years old.

  “It’s good, right?” I asked her. “Everything went good?”

  “Yes,” she said. Then she looked at Madison, “He threw me when he brought up the Hague Convention. I never expected that.”

  “That’s because it was a stupid move,” Madison said. “He’s just grasping at straws.”

  Reanna looked at me. “You’d have been screwed if the judge had gone along with that request to return your son to Mexico.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “The longer he’s with you – in this country – the better our chances are going to be,” she went on. “Public sentiment down there is much more likely to swing their way. Keeping it here, I’m pretty sure that the public support is going to be with us.”

  “Public support?”

  “CNN, editorials . . . all that.”

  “This is going to be in the news?”

  “You’d better hope it’s going to be in the news,” she said, stuffing some papers into her briefcase. “Judges can’t help but pay attention to that sort of thing . . . it may be their job to be impartial and do what’s right, but part of them wants to do whatever’s going to make them most popular in the eyes of the public. And I imagine that the overwhelming majority of public support will be on our side.”

  “But I don’t want this in the news!” I cried. I glanced at Madison for help. She gave me a small shrug.

  “You just said it yourself,” I pointed out to Reanna, “Dorito doesn’t even know about this! If the press gets ahold of it e
verybody’s going to know!”

  “Dorito?” she exclaimed.

  “It’s . . . it’s a nickname,” I stammered.

  She stared at me with a perplexed look on her face, then she said, “Don’t you dare call him that in front of the judge.”

  “Okay,” I said, meekly.

  She shook her head as if to clear her mind.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “You need to pull out all the stops on this one. It’s bad enough that your wife isn’t sitting here by your side crying big, fat crocodile tears-”

  “I’m here,” Tanner pointed out. Madison smiled at him. Reanna ignored him.

  “We need to do whatever we can to influence this judge,” she advised.

  “No,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I don’t want this in the news.”

  She looked at me for a long time.

  “You’re tying my hands,” she said.

  “You can do this without the media,” I said. “I know you can.”

  “You don’t need to suck up to me, Mr. Holland,” she said. “I’m not the judge. You hired me – I won’t leak it to the press if you’re sure that’s what you want. I just want to make sure that you’re fully aware of the implications of your decisions.”

  I nodded. “I’m aware.”

  “Fine,” she said, snapping her briefcase shut. “If we get really desperate, we’ll talk about it again.”

  “What about him?” I asked, nodding toward Beckham. “Can we stop him from alerting the press?”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about it,” she said. “I truly don’t think public sentiment will be on his side and I suspect he feels the same way – that’s probably one of the reasons he wanted to get this case out of the country if possible. I don’t think he’s going to alert the press, but – if he does decide to – there’s not a lot we can do to stop him. Because Doroteo is a minor, the media won’t be allowed to release his name. You and your wife, however, would be fair game.”