"Perfect."
"Good." She slipped on quiet black kid pumps, clipped pearl earrings on her ears, picked up her bag, and headed for the closet to get out her black coat. Ian truly did think she looked gorgeous. He was so damn proud of her. Not just of how she looked, but of how she was taking this.
Martin was not quite as pleased, though, when they walked into the courtroom. He noticed Jessica's black coat and the glimpse of gray silk. It was just what he didn't want. Everything about her looked expensive. It was as though she had set out to prove everything Matilda Howard-Spencer had suggested. Jesus. Where were their heads? Crazy kids, they didn't realize what was happening. They had an unnerving assurance about them as they took their seats, as though they had arranged everything and there was nothing more to worry about. It was a bad time for them to make a show of strength, however subtle. And yet, maybe it was just as well that they felt a little more confident. They had both looked so beaten after the morning.
This new look of confidence underlined the bond between them. One was always aware of that, of them as a pair, not just Ian or Jessie, but both. It was frightening to think what would happen to them both if someone tried to sever that bond. If they lost.
Jessica looked remarkably calm as she walked up to the witness stand. The gray dress moved gracefully with her, the full sleeves gentling her impressive stature. She took the oath and looked at Ian for one tiny instant before turning her attention to Martin.
His questions built up a picture of a devoted couple and of a wife who respected her husband too much to doubt that he was telling the truth. He was pleased with Jessica's quiet, dignified manner, and when he relinquished his witness to the prosecutor, he had to repress a smile. He would have liked to see these two women roll up their sleeves and stalk each other around the room. They were evenly matched. At least he hoped so.
With Jessica, Matilda Howard-Spencer was not going to waste time. "Tell us, Mrs. Clarke, were you aware that your husband had cheated on you before this?"
"Indirectly."
"What do you mean by that?" The attorney looked puzzled.
"I mean that I assumed that was a possibility, but that it was nothing serious."
"I see. Just a little lighthearted fun?" She was back on that track again, but Jessie had seen it coming.
"No. Nothing like that. Ian isn't flip about anything. He's a sensitive man. But I travel quite a bit. And what happens, happens."
"Does it happen to you as well?" Now the attorney's eyes were glittering again. Gotcha!
"No, it does not."
"You're under oath, Mrs. Clarke."
"I'm aware of that. The answer is no."
She looked surprised. "But you don't mind if your husband fools around?"
"Not necessarily. It depends on the circumstances." Jessica looked every inch a lady, and Ian was incredibly proud of her.
"And these particular circumstances, Mrs. Clarke, how do you feel about them?"
"Confident."
"Confident?" Jessica's interrogator looked taken aback, and Martin fidgeted. "How can you be confident, and what about?"
"I'm confident that the truth about this matter will come out, and that my husband will be acquitted." Martin watched the jury. They liked her. But they had to like Ian too. And more than that, they had to believe him.
"I admire your optimism. Are you footing the bill for the expense of this?"
"No, not really." Ian almost cringed. She was lying under oath. "My husband made a very wise investment after he sold his last book. He put the investment in my care, and we decided to sell it to cover the expense of the trial. So I can't say I'm footing the bill." Bravo! The Morgan! And she was telling the truth! He wanted to jump up and hug her.
"Would you say that you have a good marriage?"
"Yes."
"Very good?"
"Extremely good." Jessica smiled.
"But your husband does sleep with other women?"
"Presumably."
"Did he tell you about Margaret Burton?"
"No."
"Did he tell you about any of his women?"
"No. And I don't think there were very many."
"Did you encourage him to sleep around?"
"No."
"But as long as they were little nobodies, you didn't care, is that it?"
"Objection!"
"Sustained. Leading the witness."
"Sorry, Your Honor." She turned back to Jessica. "Has your husband ever been violent with you?"
"No."
"Never?"
"No."
"Does he drink a great deal?"
"No."
"Does he have problems about his manhood, because you pay the bills?" What a question!
"No."
"Do you love him very much?"
"Yes."
"Do you protect him?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you shield him from unpleasantness?"
"Of course, I'd do anything I had to to shield him from unpleasantness. I'm his wife."
Matilda Howard-Spencer's face settled into a satisfied smile. "Including lie in court to protect him?"
"No!"
"The witness is excused."
The assistant district attorney turned on her heel and went back to her seat as Jessica sat gaping on the witness stand. That damned woman had done it again.
Chapter 18
Everyone was back in their seats the next morning for the two attorneys' summations to the jury. Ian and Jessica were pleased by Martin's comments and his style in addressing the jury, and they felt that he created a real wave of sympathy for the defense. Everything was in control. Then Matilda Howard-Spencer stood up, and the assistant district attorney was demonic. She painted a portrait of a wronged, distraught, heartbroken, brutally abused woman--hard-working, clean-living Peggy Burton. She also made a strong case that men like Ian Clarke shouldn't be allowed to dally where they wished, use whom they wanted, rape whom they chose, only to toss the women away and go home to the wives who supported them, who would do "anything to protect them," as Jessie herself had said. Martin objected and was sustained. He explained later that it was rare to have to object to a closing argument, but that this woman breathed fire at the mere mention of Ian's name. And Jessie was still steaming when the court adjourned for lunch.
"Did you hear what that bitch said?" Her voice was loud and strident and Martin and Ian quelled her rapidly with a look.
"Keep your voice down, Jess," Ian pleaded. It wouldn't pay to antagonize anyone now, least of all the jury, who were filtering pas them on their way out to lunch. He had seen two of them look at Jess as she'd started to talk.
"I don't give a damn. That woman ..."
"Shut up." And then he put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Bigmouth. But I love you anyway." She sighed loudly and then smiled.
"Damn, that aggravated me."
"Okay, me too. Now let's forget about this crap for a while, and go get some lunch. Deal? No talk about the case?"
"Okay." But she said it grudgingly as they walked down the hall.
"No 'okay,' I want a solemn promise. I refuse to have my lunch wrecked by this. Just make believe we're on the jury and can't discuss it."
"You really think they stick to that?" He shrugged indifferently and pulled a lock of his wife's hair.
"I don't care what they do. Just tell me if I have that promise from you. No talking about the case. Right?"
"Right. I promise. You nag, you."
"That's me. Your basic nagging husband." He seemed very nervous as they ran down the stairs to the street, yet in surprisingly good spirits.
They went home for lunch and Jessie glanced at the mail while Ian riffled through Publishers Weekly and then went on to read the paper over the sandwiches she had made.
"You're terrific company today." She was munching a turkey sandwich and flicked at the center of his paper with a grin.
"Huh?"
"I said y
our fly is open."
"What?" He looked down and then made a face. "Oh, for Chrissake."
"Well, talk to me, dammit, I'm lonely."
"I read the paper for five minutes and you get lonely?"
"Yup. Want some wine with lunch?"
"No, I'll pass. Do we have any Cokes?"
"I'll go check." She went to look, and he was reading the paper again when she came back with the cold can of Coca-Cola. "Now listen, you ..."
"Shh ..." He waved at her impatiently and went on reading. There was something about his face, about the look in his eyes as he read. He looked shocked.
"What is it?" He ignored her, finished the article, and finally looked up with an expression of defeat.
"Read that." He pointed to the first four columns on page two, and Jessie's heart turned over as she read the headline: RAPE--IT'S TIME TO GET TOUGH. The article reported on a criminal justice committee meeting held the day before to discuss current punishment of rapists. There was talk in the article of stiffer sentences, no probation, suggestions for making it easier and less humiliating to report rape. It made anyone accused of rape sound as though he should be hanged without further ado. Jessie put down the paper and stared at Ian. It was bad luck to have that in the paper on the day the jury would be going out to deliberate.
"Do you think it'll have any effect, Ian? The judge told them not to be influenced by ..."
"Oh, bullshit, Jessica. If I say something to you and someone else tells you to unhear it, will you have heard it or not? Will you remember it or not? They're only human, for Chrissake. Of course they're influenced by what they hear. So are you, so am I, so's the judge." He ran a hand through his hair and pushed his lunch away. Jessica folded the paper and threw it onto the counter.
"Okay, so maybe they read the paper today, maybe not. But there isn't a damn thing we can do about it. So why not just let it pass, darling? Just forget about it. Can we try to do that? You're the one who made me promise not to discuss the case, remember?" She smiled gently at him. His eyes looked like sapphires, dark and bright and troubled.
"Yes, but Jessie ... for God's ... all right. You're right. I'm sorry." But it was a tense meal after that, and neither of them finished their sandwiches.
They were silent on the drive down to City Hall, and Jessica heard her heels echo on the marble floors as they walked in. Her heart seemed to be pounding with equal force and in tune to the echo, like a death knell.
The judge addressed the jury for less than half an hour, and they filed out silently to be locked into a room across the hall while a bailiff stood guard outside. "Now what, gentlemen?" Martin and Ian had joined Jessie at her seat.
"Now we wait. The judge will call a recess if they haven't come to a decision by five. Then they'll come back in the morning."
"And that's it?" Jessie looked surprised.
"Yes, that's it." How strange. It was all over. Almost. All that droning and boredom mixed with tension and sudden drama. And then it's over. The two teams have done their debating, the judge makes a little speech to the jury, they go lock themselves in a room, talk to each other, pick a verdict, everyone goes home, and the trial is over. It was weird somehow. Like a game. Or a dance. All terribly organized and ritualistic. A tribal rite. The thought made her want to laugh, but Ian and Martin were looking so serious. She smiled up at her husband, and their attorney looked at her with worried eyes. She really didn't understand. And he wasn't sure Ian did either. Maybe it was just as well.
"What do you think, Martin?" Ian turned to him with the question, but Martin had the feeling that he was asking more for Jessie's benefit than his own.
"I don't know. Did you see this morning's paper?" Ian's face sobered further.
"Yes. At lunch. That doesn't help, does it?"
The lawyer shook his head.
"Well, at least we put on a good show."
"It would have been a better show if Green could have come up with something solid about Burton and Jed Knowles. I just know that that was the crux of this." Martin shook his head angrily, and Ian patted his shoulder.
"Will she be coming back for the verdict?" Jessie was curious.
"No. She won't be back in court."
"Bitch." It was a small, low word, from the pit of her gut.
"Jessie!" Ian was quick to silence her, but she wouldn't be silenced.
"Well? She fucks up our life, blasts us practically into bankruptcy, not to mention what she's done to our nerves, and then she just walks off into the sunset. What do you expect me to feel toward her? Gratitude?"
"No, but there's no point ..."
"Why not?" Jessie was getting loud again, and Ian knew how nervous she was. "Martin, can't we sue her after we win the case?"
"Yes, I suppose so, but what would you get out of it? She doesn't have anything."
"Then we'll sue the state." She hadn't thought of that before.
"Look, why don't you two go for a walk down the hall?" He gave Ian a pointed look and Ian nodded. "It may be a while before the jury comes in, probably will be. Just stay close; don't leave the building." Jessie nodded and stood up, reaching for Ian's hand. Martin left them and went back to the desk. It was terrifying the way Jessica would not accept the possibility that they might lose.
"I wish we could go for a drink." She walked slowly into the hall and leaned against the wall while Ian lit their cigarettes. Her legs were shaking and she wondered how long she could keep up the front of Madam Cool. She wanted to sink to the floor and clutch Ian's knees in desperation. It had to go all right. Had to ... had to ... she wanted to pound on the door to the jury room ... to ...
"It'll all be over soon, Jess. Just hang in there."
"Yeah." She smiled a half-smile and linked her arm in his as they started to walk down the corridor.
They were silent for a long time, and Jessie let her mind travel as it chose, wandering and darting, floating between thoughts as she smoked, and walked, and held on to Ian. It took almost an hour, but her brain finally stopped whirling, probably from exhaustion. She felt lonely and tired and sad, but she no longer felt as if she were going at the wrong speed. It was something, anyway.
She decided to call the boutique, just to see how things were going. It was an odd time to call, but she suddenly wanted to touch base with something familiar, to know that the world hadn't simply shrunk to one endless corridor in which she and Ian were condemned to walk their lives away in terrified silence. She missed the bustle of the boutique. The trivia. The faces.
The girls told her what was happening and she felt better. It was like going to the movies with Astrid. Normalcy. It diminished the proportions of what was happening to them to something she could bear for a while longer.
By four o'clock Ian had relaxed too, and they were playing word games. At four-thirty they started trading old jokes.
"What's gray and has four legs and a trunk?"
"An elephant?" She was already giggling.
"No, dummy, a mouse going on vacation." Ian grinned, pleased with his joke. They were like second-graders sent out to the hall.
"Okay, smartass. How can you tell if your pants have fallen down?" She came back at him quickly and he started to laugh, but then they saw Martin beckon them urgently from the end of the hall. The jokes were suddenly over. Ian stood up first and looked into Jessica's face. She felt pale as terror swept over her. Pale and hollow, as though her frame might break. It was happening now. No more games to make believe it would never happen ... it was here. Oh God ... no!
"Jessie, no panicking!" He could see the look on her face, and took her swiftly into his arms and held her as tightly as he could. "I love you. That's all. I love you. Just know that, and that nothing will ever change that, and that you're fine, you're always fine. Got that?" She nodded, but her chin was trembling as he looked at her. "You're fine. And I love you."
"You're fine, and you love you ... I mean me ..." She laughed a watery laugh and he held her tight again.
"You'
re fine, silly. Not I'm fine."
"You're not fine?" She was better now. She always was when he held her.
"Oh Jessie ... I'll tell you one thing. I wish to hell my pants had never fallen down." They both laughed and then he pulled away from her again. "Everything's gonna be okay. Now let's go."
"I love you, darling. I wish you knew how much I love you." Tears blinded her as she walked along at his side, quickly, trying to tell him too much in too little time.
"You're here. That tells me everything. Now stop being so dramatic, and get the mascara off your face." She giggled nervously again and ran her hands over her cheeks. There were black streaks on her palms when she stopped.
"I must look terrific."
"Gorgeous."
And then they were there. The door to the courtroom.
"Okay?" He looked at her long and hard as they stood facing each other. The bailiff watched them and then turned away.
"Okay." She nodded quietly and they smiled into each other's eyes.
They walked into the courtroom and the jury was already seated; the judge was back at his bench. The defendant was asked to rise, and Jessica almost rose from her seat with him and had to remind herself not to. She kept silently repeating to herself. "Okay ... okay ... okay ..." Her fingers dug into the seat of her chair and she closed her eyes, waiting. It would be okay, it was just so horrible waiting. She thought it must be like having a bullet pulled out of your arm. It wouldn't kill you, but God it was so awful getting it out.
The foreman was asked to read off the verdict, and she held her breath, wishing she were standing next to Ian. This was it.
"How does the jury find the defendant on the charge of sodomy, an infamous crime against nature?" They were starting at the least of the charges, and working their way up ... she waited.
"Guilty, Your Honor." Her eyes flew open and she saw Ian flinch, as though the tip of a whip had struck his face. But he didn't turn around to look at her.
"And on the charge of forcible oral copulation?"
"Guilty, Your Honor."
"And on the charge of forcible rape?"
"Guilty, Your Honor."
Jessica sat there stunned. Ian hadn't moved.
Martin looked toward her, and she felt the tears begin to pour down her face as the jury was dismissed and left the room. Ian sat down now and she went toward him. His eyes were blank when she looked into his face. She couldn't think of anything to say, and two lone tears crept down his face toward his chin.
Now and Forever (1978) Page 20