by Ford, Julie
Snatching the schedule prepared for Carol off the refrigerator, Josie strode over to John. After slapping her computer shut, she said, “Stick to the schedule, or you’ll be sorry,” while making serious eye contact with her husband. “Beth has dress rehearsal so I’ll leave out her costume. After dance the twins need—”
“Relax, Babe. It’s not rocket science,” John said. “I think I can handle it.” Then, standing, he slid his arms into his suit jacket, and picking up his keys and briefcase, made his way around the counter to face her.
“The press will probably try to ask you questions today, now that they know you’re my wife.” He paused for emphasis. “‘No comment,’ is the best way to handle it for now. You got me?” Eyeing her one second longer, he said, “And don’t lose; I don’t have to remind you how much I have riding on this.”
“Yeah…whatever.” Josie’s eyes did a quick roll—he really did think the world revolved around him. She reached around him, picked up the carpool schedule, and folding the paper once, slid it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Don’t forget, Beth at noon.”
He smiled slyly at Josie while she smoothed his jacket back into place, and repeated, “Beth, noon. I got it.”
Josie felt his wanton eyes directed down at her and decided to have a little fun.
She softened her expression, moved closer, and smiled coyly back up at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
John regarded his wife carefully before leaning tentatively down, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers.
Putting a hand to his chest to stop his progress, Josie said, “Um—no.” Then turning her hand over, she said, “I’m going to need your keys. You’re driving the van today.”
When her expression changed from demure to a deceitfully satisfied Gotcha!, John dropped his keys into Josie’s hand. “Oh, I see how it’s gonna be,” he said, shaking his head as he disappeared through the door.
“Have a nice day!” Josie called after him.
Chapter 12
The clock on the dash read eleven-fifty as John pulled into the parking lot at the FirstBaptistChurch, home to Beth’s pre-K. Seeing the vans and SUV’s snaked in a line around the building, he mumbled, “I’m not waiting in that,” before swerving around and pulling into a parking space. When he stepped from the van he found the day had morphed into one of those warm Alabama February days when spring emerged only briefly to tease everyone before retreating back into winter just a little longer. Squinting at the sun, John loosened his tie and ducked around a blooming Bradford Pear, knocking a few white, stinky blossoms to the ground.
As John strutted up to the front counter, a young woman in a floral dress and feathered bleached-blonde hair looked up and said, in a strong country accent, “May I help you?”
John turned on his Southern gentlemanly charm. “Why, yes.” He smiled cordially, while leaning one elbow on the counter. “I’m here to pick up my daughter.”
“Okay, what’s her name?” She smiled warmly before turning her focus to the computer on the desk.
“Beth…Elizabeth Bearden.”
“What class is she in?”
“Pre-school.” John felt confident with his answer.
“Right. K-2, K-3, K-4…”
“Is that a trick question?” John asked with a wink, before offering, “She’s four.”
Her cheeks colored with John’s flirtation. “Okay. What’s her teacher’s name?”
“Now, that I’m sure I don’t know the answer to.” John flashed his newly bleach-enhanced smile while wondering why this had to be so complicated.
“What did you say your name is, again?” she asked, her demeanor stiffening.
“I don’t think I did. I’m John Bearden,” he said, pompously.
“You seem familiar…” She thought for a moment before her face brightened. “Are you the one who does those used car commercials? Bearden’s Bargains? With the big gorilla who jumps off the roof, smashing prices? I love that commercial!”
Offended that she’d suggest he was a lowly used-car salesman, John dropped the charm and glared at the woman. “That’s a different Bearden.”
“Oh. Well.” Looking back at the computer screen, she asked, “Isn’t Beth supposed to be picked up in the car pool?”
John shrugged. “I dunno.”
Looking John up and down suspiciously, she said, “I’m gonna have to see some I.D. since I’ve never seen you before, and you don’t really seem to know much ’bout your daughter, or this school.”
Five minutes later John smiled balefully at the woman behind the counter when Beth came running up to him, her backpack bouncing and hanging down to her knees. “Daddy, Daddy! I didn’t know you were coming!”
Loading Beth into the van, John saw that the line of cars to pick up pre-schoolers had all but dispersed. Shaking his head, he climbed into the van and headed toward home.
* * * *
John was right about the reporters. In the parking lot, and then again in the hall, a few microphones and cameras had been shoved in Josie’s face. “Do you think defending an accused murderer will hurt your husband’s chances?” “How can your husband assert that he’s hard on crime when his wife defends...”
Brian, considerably more used to being in the limelight, pushed past everyone, dragging Josie along in his wake before turning to one of the cameras. “Mrs. Bearden and I have the utmost confidence in the innocence of our client.” He spoke with complete self-assurance.
John should enjoy seeing that on the evening news.
Inside the courtroom, Josie sat on the left side at the defense’s table, gnawing at her bottom lip. Looking around anxiously, she tapped her number-two pencil on the blank legal pad in front of her. The Columbiana courtroom was crowded with spectators and its lack of windows made the area feel claustrophobic. Tawdry with its wood veneer paneling and florescent lighting, the room was a far cry from the glamorous mahogany courtrooms portrayed in television and movie legal dramas.
Ms. Henry, dressed in her Sunday best and black straw hat, looked about as uneasy as Josie felt. Surrounding her sat most of her children, Josie guessed, not knowing the family as well as Brian. In the chair to Josie’s right, Brian reached over, and put his hand on top of hers to stop the tapping.
“Relax, it’s going to be fine. You’re in the company of the best.” Winking, he smiled affectionately at Josie.
“Am I interrupting something?” Scott Crank, the prosecutor walked up to the table. Josie and Brian actually knew him during their undergrad at Alabama. He was much thinner and considerably less smarmy back then. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me to see you two together again.” Regarding Josie dubiously, he added, “It does surprise me, however, to find out that Josie is the current Mrs. John Bearden…or is it ‘Jocelyn’ now?” He said “current” like he knew, or assumed, Josie’s marital status could soon be changing.
“What can we do for you, Scott?” Brian asked.
“Just wanted to give you one more chance to accept the plea bargain we offered—it’s not too late,” Scott said, while keeping his eyes fixed on Josie.
“Not a chance,” Brian said.
“Well, all right then. If you’re sure.”
He didn’t try too hard to convince them before slinking back to his side. Josie got the feeling Scott simply came over to gawk at her. He looked back to Brian and added, “By the way, your father sends his best.” Brian and his father—still employed in the prosecutor’s office—continued to be slightly estranged. He still didn’t approve of Brian’s career choice.
The room started to quiet down when the jury was ushered in. Sandra hurried up the aisle, taking a seat directly behind Brian. A moment or two later, Slidell was led in by a sheriff’s deputy. Slidell’s gaze darted around anxiously, and the trepidation was evident on his face. About five-feet ten inches, he wore a low-end designer suit Brian had purchased for him. His hair was cropped short, his skin medium dark, and he had gentle light brown, amber eyes.
Ms. Henry was right, Josie thought, Sly could never have hurt anybody. After he took a seat next to Josie, she reached over to pat his shoulder, wishing she could promise him that everything was going to be all right.
When the judge came in and everyone stood, Josie tried to imagine what John would be like, strutting into his courtroom, draped in a black robe, everyone standing at attention simply due to his presence. Would he be just, fair? Somehow, even after everything that had happened, she knew he would.
* * * *
Beth’s usually organized room was strewn with toys and dolls. A quick look around told John that Josie’s notion of a clean house had relaxed considerably since she’d started back to work. Kneeling amidst the clutter, he struggled to pull Beth’s tights up her legs as she all but ignored his efforts. Hugging Puffer-Lee-Anderson, Beth gazed thoughtfully at John, who was now cursing under his breath, trying to pull the nylon up by the waistband, while most of the fabric remained stuck on the toe ends of Beth’s feet.
“Have you been bad, Daddy?”
“Why do you ask that?” Pulling really hard, John lifted Beth right off the floor.
Beth finally decided to pay attention to what he was trying to do. “You’re s’pose to scrunch it first,” she said and then continued on with her original thought. “’Cause, Momma put you in the time-out—in the pool house, and you’ve been out there a long time. Puffer thought it’s ’cause you must have been bad, really bad.”
“What do you mean ‘scrunch it up first?’” he asked, ignoring her question mostly because he didn’t have an answer.
Beth said, “You must be really old too ’cause Momma says when I’m bad, I have to stay in the time-out one minute for every year old I am. That’s four whole minutes.” She wagged four chubby fingers in his face.
Heating up from his exertion, John loosened his tie some more before finally working Beth’s tights over her feet and edging them up her legs. “Well, I guess I’ll be out there a while then, because Daddy’s pretty old,” he teased with a half smile, relieved that he was finally making some progress with her tights.
“You could just say you’re sorry and give Momma a big hug and kiss. She can be re-son-ble ’bout those things.” Beth nodded her head. “Works for me and Puffer all the time.”
Finally pulling the tights up to Beth’s little round belly, John blew air up and onto his red face. “Thanks for the advice, Baby girl. I’ll give it a try. But your momma, she can be a might stubborn at times.”
Looking down at the considerable amount of tights still hanging off the end of Beth’s toes, he hoped getting Josie back would be easier than dressing his little girl. “It’s just going to take some time, that’s all. She’ll come ’round.” Sighing, he rubbed his flushed face. “I’m going to do my best to see that she does.”
He turned his attention to the ruffled, sparkly, recital dress lying on the bed, picking it up like it might bite him if he moved too quickly. Feeling mystified, and suddenly exasperated, he turned it over and every which way, trying to figure out which side was which.
* * * *
While Scott Crank droned on with his opening statement, Josie’s fatigued mind wandered. Is Beth feeling better? What am I going to do about Bobbie and his grades? How do other working mothers keep their careers and home life from falling apart? A maid, a personal assistant, tutor, and a nanny—that’s what she needed. The more she thought about it, the more she thought bringing in some help could be the answer, and the better she felt. However, hiring extra help meant she was going to need a bigger than expected divorce settlement. In that case, she might as well add a personal trainer to the list and…
“And furthermore the prosecution will show…” Scott was still talking.
But then why even have a home or children, if I’m just going to hand them over to someone else to care for? Josie felt strained again.
Then by some miraculous act of God, Scott finally sat down. Brian pushed back his chair to take his turn. Josie had to focus now.
Brian buttoned his suit jacket before walking out in front of the table to address the jury. Josie watched him, in awe of his confidence. If Brian was the least bit nervous, it didn’t show. She knew his sparkling brown eyes and the soft waves of hair curling lightly around his neck and ears had captivated the women, at least, on the jury before he’d even begun to speak.
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, Slidell Henry sits here before you today, not as a cold-blooded killer, but as a man unjustly accused of a heinous crime for which the prosecution has no definitive proof…” Thankfully, Brian jumped straight to the point.
As Brian moseyed toward the jury box with one hand in his pocket, looking so genteel and demure, Josie thought back to the first time she’d seen him. In her Women’s Studies class, Brian had been one of only a few male students, and the only one who attended regularly. She remembered feeling Brian watching her during every class until—one day—he approached her. Almost instantly, she noticed a sincerity about him that was different from the other boys she’d known in high school and her freshman year of college.
Brian was her first. Josie remembered with adoration how he waited patiently until she was ready. How carefully he proceeded, making sure that she was comfortable, ensuring her first time would be an experience she would never forget—ever. Watching Brian a moment longer, Josie thought about how he used to talk in his sleep. She wondered if he still preferred to make love in the morning.
Eyes trained on Brian as she reminisced, Josie didn’t realize a wanton expression had taken shape on her face. When Brian’s diction began to show a hint of distraction, Josie snapped back to the present and saw that his eyes were directed at her now, playfully, as if to ask, “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Josie bit her lip when she felt the heat rise up to her cheeks. She glanced around uncomfortably to see if anyone else had noticed that her mind was…not focused on the matters at hand.
When Brian finished, he gave one more earnest look to the jury before striding back to his seat. He leaned towards Josie and she could feel his breath tickle her ear. “You’re going to have to stop distracting me—a man’s freedom is at stake here.”
Josie turned her head slightly in Brian’s direction and their lips almost touched. “I can’t help it when you’re so—”
Sandra leaned forward and interrupted. “Do you two need to take a recess? Or, can we continue with defending our client?” Looking more jealous than annoyed, she glared at Josie first, then Brian.
* * * *
John had underestimated the complexity of dressing a four-year-old for dance, and then, realizing he didn’t really know where the class met, he’d had to call Lydia for directions. He arrived at the dance studio a few minutes late.
When he pulled up and emerged from the van with Beth, Lydia was pacing impatiently out front while her plump sparkling-clothed twins ran circles around her. “John! What took you so long? I have an appointment in ten minutes,” she scolded.
“I told you I was on my way.” John was flustered. “Why didn’t you just go?”
“Well, I couldn’t leave them. What if you didn’t show?” Lydia looked down at Beth and clicked her tongue. “You’ve put her costume on backward, and just look at her hair. Come here, baby, let me fix you.” Lydia leaned over, untied the ribbons, and turned Beth’s problematical attire around frontward before tying the ribbons perfectly.
“Are you sure you can get the twins to my neighbors all right?” Lydia asked while removing Beth’s crown. Then, smoothing out her hair with her hands, she reapplied the band and spun the ponytail around into a bun, pinning it to stay before replacing the crown. After having spent fifteen minutes on the atrocity that was Beth’s hair, John watched in amazement at how quickly, and effortlessly, Lydia straightened it out.
“I got it. Jocelyn left me a detailed schedule.” Getting Beth here was hard enough and now he wondered why he had to watch the twins as well. “Where are you goi
ng anyway?”
“Doctor.” Lydia didn’t offer any more before kissing her little ones goodbye and heading out. Her lack of eye contact had him thinking, remembering Andy saying something about a consultation with a plastic surgeon. Apparently, she needed larger breasts to complete her “hot momma” look. Plus, he heard Lydia admit to Josie that she hoped “they” would keep Andy home more. Holding back a smile, he remembered Josie saying that if she were married to Andy, she’d want him gone as much as possible.
After herding his small pack of giggling girls through the door, John looked around as an unexpected wave of uneasiness swept over him. Sitting in folding chairs along the perimeter of the room was a group consisting entirely of women who had become very quiet, eyes agog as he entered. He smiled uncomfortably while shuffling the girls through to the classroom door, closing it behind them. Turning to face the waiting room again, and seeing all eyes were still focused on him, he excused himself to go outside to make a few calls. Despite dialing every person possible in his phone, including Josie, John came up empty. The heat of the afternoon sun had grown oppressive so he removed his tie, and rolling up his sleeves, he weighed his options:The hot van, or the women?
Back inside, John eased down into a seat, hoping the ladies wouldn’t notice him.
“Are you Beth’s daddy or the twins’?” A young mother holding a baby and wearing sweat pants—her hair looked like she might have brushed it yesterday—spoke to him first.
Nodding “Hello” to all the gawking faces around the room, he said, “Um, Beth’s daddy. I’m John Bearden.” He decided to be cordial—after all they could be potential voters.
“Oh, you’re Josie’s husband?” the one with the baby said, looking unsure.
“That’s right.”
“Aren’t you the man who’s running for mayor?” Another women in tight jeans, heels, and big hair asked as she handed a baggy full of goldfish crackers to a little toddler dressed in a green and yellow John Deere t-shirt.