She didn’t answer, but she didn’t tell him to shut up, either. He was making incredible progress.
Something had changed, he could feel it, but he wasn’t sure what. She should still be furious at him for the scare he’d given her, albeit unintentionally. Instead, she was letting him talk, joke, even bring up the past she’d forbidden him to mention.
“I haven’t had much to laugh about in a long time,” she admitted.
“Your mother sounds pretty funny.”
“She’s a joke a minute,” Livy said. “But you don’t have to live with her.”
Livy had a problem with her mother. Easy for him to understand, since he had problems of his own with his father. Garrett decided not to press a new issue when there were so many old ones to chose from.
“Max is a wonder,” he began. “Some of the things he says are so original, so bright and brilliant … I don’t know how you can’t smile, if not laugh all the time.”
An impatient exhale was followed by silence. He’d said something wrong. Garrett waited for the click of the disconnect. Instead, he heard “Thank you,” in a grudging though sincere tone.
“For what?”
“You gave Max a way to conquer his fears. Though I can’t say your method makes the least bit of sense to me, I’m happy he’s happy. I’ve never been of any use when he talks to me about things that go bump in the night.”
“It was my pleasure.” Garrett hesitated, unsure if he had the right to any request, least of all the one he was compelled to make. “I hope you didn’t punish him for visiting me.”
“He scared me to death!”
“I know. But he was scared, too. I don’t want to tell you how to raise him. I don’t want to horn in where I don’t belong, but—”
“I didn’t punish him,” she interrupted. She sounded as surprised about it as he was. “I should ground him until he’s twenty-five, but that doesn’t seem to work very well with Max.”
“Why?” Grounding had never worked with Garrett, either, because he always for—
“He forgets.”
Garrett’s lips curved in the cool, quiet darkness of the Savannah night.
“He doesn’t mean to disobey me. For a day, maybe two, Max is exactly where he belongs. Then something wonderful comes by—on the wind, in the grass, across his brain like a breeze, and he’s gone. When I find him, he blinks at me like Mister Magoo. He has no idea what it is he’s done that’s made me insane.”
“I was that way, too.”
“How can something so capricious be carried in the genes?”
“My father would say it certainly didn’t come from him.”
The sentence dropped between them. Another long silence ensued. Garrett wished he hadn’t brought up his father. The memories always put a damper on any happiness he might have found.
“You never mentioned your father. You never mentioned your past at all.”
“Because it was past.” He heard the ice in his voice.
Livy heard something more. “You don’t like him.”
“I don’t have to like him. He’s my father.”
“Sounds like a line directly out of your father’s mouth.”
For an imagination-deficient attorney, Livy was mighty perceptive.
Garrett grunted and Livy chuckled. Not a full blown laugh, but he liked the sound almost as well. Maybe if he could laugh about James, Sr. he might feel better all around. But he wasn’t that emotionally healthy.
“Max wrote a great story about his closet monster.”
Well, at least someone is writing something great.
“Sometimes I have no idea what to do with him.” The laughter had gone out of Livy’s voice. “I don’t understand him. But you knew right off what he needed.”
“Because I needed it once, too. Still do.”
“You’re afraid of closet monsters?”
“My fears are adult fears now, but none the less invisible and full of teeth.”
“What are you afraid of, Garrett?”
The night wind ruffled his hair, the past whispered along his neck, memories sprang to life unbidden and he shivered at the knowledge of all that he feared.
“I’m afraid I’ll never be the writer everyone expects me to be. That I’ll never find a woman as wonderful as the girl I left behind. That I’ll never be the father my son deserves. But you know what I’m afraid of the most?”
“What?” Livy’s voice was hoarse, perhaps with unspoken fears of her own.
“That I’ll never even get the chance to try.”
The click he’d been expecting all along shocked him. Garrett listened until he heard the dial tone. Then he got up and drove to the place called “Good Fortune,” wondering if he’d ever find any of his own.
Chapter 12
“We’ve got trouble,” Kim whispered.
Livy didn’t look up; she was too busy trying to find some precedent, any precedent, on goose stealing. She needed this case thrown out, not sent to trial, because at trial they’d lose. Unfortunately, there weren’t any goose-stealing precedents to be had.
Kim’s whisper became urgent. “Judge McFie trouble.”
“What?”
Kim nodded toward the bench. They were in trouble, all right.
Judge Lamont McFie was presiding. The last time Rosie had gone in front of him, her fine had doubled and he’d promised on the next occurrence to make an example of her for all the other troublemakers to consider.
“Double damn,” Livy muttered.
She was not up for any dips and turns this morning. She’d spent another nearly sleepless night, this time thinking about Garrett’s call and the sincerity in his voice when he’d spoken of Max. Parental insecurity was something she could identify with, and Garrett’s had made him far too appealing.
Once she’d fallen asleep she’d dreamed just the way she always used to after J.J. called. As a result she’d overslept, awakening aroused from those dreams and annoyed that she’d had them at all.
Too little sex. That’s all it was. She could not still be attracted to the man who had crushed her heart. She would not be.
To top everything off, when she’d delivered Max to school, he’d put his nose to hers and stared into her eyes. “Bring Rosie home for me. I know you can do it. You’re the best.”
Livy took a deep breath and laid her hand over her chest, where it hurt. Max didn’t ask for much, so why had he asked for something she wasn’t sure she’d be able to give him? Livy didn’t want to see his face when she told him she’d failed and his beloved Rosie was in jail for goosenapping.
“Calm down.” Kim patted her arm. “There’s no proof your mother did this. No one saw her. She didn’t confess.” Livy just raised her eyebrows, an expression Kim ignored. “Even Judge McFie can’t lock her up on the basis of circumstantial evidence and a crazy reputation.”
“I hope you’re right. But I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.”
“Me, neither.”
Not only was Judge McFie fed up with Rosie, but he was fed up with a lot of people—and the system as it stood today. Having worn the robes of his trade for nigh onto forty years, he dispensed his own brand of justice, believing the bench was a place for the men who were closest to God. Of course, the joke around the courthouse was that McFie was closer to God than anyone by virtue of age alone.
Just then the side entrance of the court opened and Rosie waltzed out.
Once again her mother had not dressed in the simple pale pink sheath Livy had bought for court appearances. Instead she looked as if she’d borrowed clothes from her slumber party pals. The neon-orange halter top was made only minimally less risqué by the addition of a bright-red blouse for a jacket. Her combat boots looked perfect with her black leather skirt. She’d released her hair from the usual braid, so the kinky tresses swirled about her shoulders like a black-and-white flag.
“At least she didn’t wear the T-shirt that says Ninety-nine Percent Of Lawyers Give The Rest A Bad Name,”
Kim pointed out. “I don’t think the judge would find it as funny as I did.”
“This is going to be a very long morning.”
A commotion at the back of the court drew everyone’s attention. The assistant district attorney had arrived, and he had friends. Livy resisted the urge to put her head down on the table and hide.
Viola and Violet were dressed for the occasion in morning frocks of blue and gray. No hats for the courtroom, or gloves at this time of day, but their matching pumps clipped on the hardwood floor as they approached.
“This is a hearing,” Livy stated to no one in particular. “They don’t have to be here.”
“Did you really think they’d miss this?” Kim asked.
“Mama, why did you have to steal their goose?”
“Didn’t,” Rosie said out of the side of her mouth like an actor in a bad Mafia movie, before she took a seat at Livy’s side.
The assistant district attorney, a young man who was probably the son of the son of someone the sisters had dated, tried to usher “the people” to the area reserved for spectators when court was in session. But the two women were having none of it. Instead, they marched to the defense table.
“Rosie Cannaught, you’re gonna get yours now,” Miss Violet said.
“What am I getting?” Rosie asked.
“A trip to jail.”
“Had one. No, make that ten.” She snickered and Kim joined in.
“Stop it,” Livy ordered through her teeth.
“You know, they probably hid the goose just to get me in trouble.”
“She keeps saying that.” Miss Violet leaned down and shouted, “Where’s my goose, hippie?” in Rosie’s face.
Rosie went for the throat, but Livy grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back into the chair. “Not now.”
“Later?”
“Maybe,” Livy promised. The sisters were starting to get on her nerves, and Rosie had had to put up with them for a lot longer than she had. Whatever happened to the “ladies don’t shout” rule? Obviously, that rule only applied to other ladies.
“Did you see that?” Miss Viola asked the judge. “She tried to kill Sister. A menace, that’s what she is and always has been. She should be locked away from decent people.”
“That remains to be decided,” the judge said, though he appeared exasperated. “Let’s get started.”
The assistant DA tried again to send the sisters to the gallery. They ignored him, sitting at the prosecution’s table as if they belonged there. From the expression on the baby lawyer’s face, he didn’t have the gumption to make them move. Livy really couldn’t fault him.
“What’s the charge?” McFie asked.
“The people charge the defendant under the Criminal Code of Georgia, section 16-8-20. Livestock theft, Your Honor.”
“Haven’t heard that one in a while. Felony or misdemeanor?”
“Felony.”
Kim cursed and Livy glanced her way. Kim had a mind that retained legal statutes the way a tape recorder retained sound. She’d clearly read section 16-8-20, and it wasn’t good.
“What?” Livy whispered.
“Felony livestock theft is punishable by one to ten, and a fine of ten thousand dollars.”
Now Livy cursed.
“But to be classified as a felony, the fair market value of the animal has to be over one hundred dollars.”
“I object,” Livy said.
Judge McFie looked down his nose at Rosie, then turned his piercing eyes toward Livy. “About what?”
“Fair market value has to be over one hundred dollars for a felony livestock theft.”
The judge glanced at the assistant DA for an explanation.
“It cost that much to train this goose, Your Honor.”
“What do you have to say now, Counselor?”
“No one saw her take it. She says she didn’t take it” Livy shrugged. “No proof but hearsay, Your Honor. I request my client be released immediately. This entire matter is a joke.”
“With her, it usually is.” McFie turned his attention back to Rosie. “Give up the goose, Rosie, and this will all go away.”
“Your Honor!” He had no right to treat Rosie as if she were guilty. It was completely against the rules.
Rosie stood. “I take the Fifth.”
Livy pulled her back down. “If you want me to help you, you need to keep quiet unless I ask you to talk. We’ve been over this.”
Rosie patted her cheek. “I know, but I just can’t keep quiet. Especially when something’s so wrong.”
“Rosie,” the judge said in a warning tone.
“Just because it’s legal doesn’t make it right.”
“It does in my world.”
“Well, pardon me for saying so, but your world is screwed up.”
“You need to watch your tone, or I’ll hold you in contempt.”
“Contempt.” Rosie laughed. “Now, that would be a first.”
Livy fought the urge to scream mindlessly or bang her head against the table. She didn’t think Judge McFie would appreciate either behavior from the defense attorney. Instead, she watched as he turned a frightening shade of purple.
“That’s it!” For an old man, he could shout loud enough to rattle a window. “Take her back where you got her. Until she plays by my rules, she’ll be a guest of the city. I don’t care how long it takes—you’ll learn that the law isn’t something to laugh about.”
The judge banged his gavel and fled the room as though afraid he’d throttle Rosie if he stayed another moment. Livy could sympathize.
The bailiff took Rosie’s arm.
“Nice try, sugar.”
Livy had a headache and it wasn’t even 10:00 a.m. “I should let you rot.”
Rosie didn’t appear scared. She never did. That was one of the problems with Rosie. Instead, she winked, unabashed. “But you won’t.”
“I promised Max I’d bring you home.”
Rosie stiffened. “I guess you’ll have to do something, then. Since you promised Max.” She left with the bailiff.
Such docile behavior disturbed Livy. Rosie might not act scared, but perhaps the seriousness of all this had finally hit her. And as much as Rosie annoyed Livy, she didn’t want her mother to go to jail scared.
Though she’d been planning to return to the office and talk to Rosie later, Livy changed her plans. “I’ll be in to talk to you as soon as I get things straightened out with Kim,” she called.
Despite Livy’s words, Rosie kept walking without saying anything more—at least until she walked past the sisters.
“We won!” Miss Violet said.
Miss Viola just laughed as if she’d never stop. Even the assistant DA smiled.
Livy wanted to walk over and knock their heads together. She should have known Rosie didn’t need any help.
“How do you figure that, since you’re still short one goose?”
The dawn of realization on the sisters’ faces was priceless. When they turned on the lawyer, the two sounded like a gaggle of what they were so worried about.
Her mother left the courtroom, still too subdued. After that parting shot, Rosie should be grinning. She loved to cause trouble.
Livy’s partner appeared at her elbow. “Let me guess. Reschedule everything that can be rescheduled. Start researching obscure and bizarre livestock precedents. Cancel all meetings after four o’clock. Anything else?”
“Find that goose.”
Kim drew her long black hair into a “get down to business” ponytail. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
*
Rosie paced her empty jail cell. All her pals had been bailed out before dawn. They punched a different time clock than the rest of the world and needed to get their beauty sleep come sunup. Kind of like the vampires Max was so interested in.
For a change Max wasn’t the problem. Livy was. To be truthful, she’d always been something of a problem. From the moment she was born, Rosie had loved her, but
she’d never known how to say it or show it, because Livy had never needed her love, never needed her. That kind of stuff preyed on a mother’s mind. Even a mother as liberal as Rosie.
“I’m sick of it.” She kicked at the iron bars.
“Sick of jail already?” Livy appeared on the other side with a baby-faced officer who held the key.
“Hey, sweetcakes.” Rosie smiled at the officer on duty with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She couldn’t recall his name, but all the young ones treated her like the mother they’d always wanted. Why couldn’t her daughter want the same?
The boy smiled back and opened the door to let Livy inside.
“Tell me where the golden goose is, Mama, and I can get you out of here in an hour.”
“Are you on my side or theirs?”
‘‘I just want you out of here.”
‘‘You didn’t answer the question. Sometimes, Livy, you are such a—a—a lawyer.”
Livy narrowed her eyes. “Lucky for you, since you need one so often.”
Rosie turned away, shocked to find tears threatening. It had never bothered her before that she and Livy didn’t see eye-to-eye. They were different.
Rosie and her mother had been different, too. It was the way of families, the way of mothers and daughters, that often they did not get along. Even more common was that they might want to get along, yet had no idea how.
“Just once,” she managed, “I’d like my daughter to stick up for me.”
“Once? I go to court with you every single time.”
“You defend me, but with a wink and a nudge. How do you think that looks? What does it make people think?”
“Since when have you given a rat’s behind what something looks like or what anyone thinks, including me?”
“I care what you think. I always have.”
Rosie turned, and Livy frowned at the evidence of her struggle against tears. Her daughter’s face, then her voice, gentled. “You’re not acting like yourself. Are you afraid I won’t get you out?”
“Of course not. I trust you.”
“You do?”
The surprise in her voice grated on Rosie’s already raw nerves. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? You promised Max, didn’t you? That makes it as good as done.”
Why it bugged Rosie so much that Livy wasn’t getting her out because she wanted her out but because Max did, Rosie didn’t know. But there it was.
Leave it to Max (Lori's Classic Love Stories Volume 1) Page 14