“Opal Gates? I’m Vivian Cummings.”
Well, duh. She shakes hands and follows the lawyer into the inner office, a space that reeks of cigarettes and is only marginally larger than the waiting room. Opal is no health freak, but a person’s lungs could contract disease just walking through this place.
Vivian lowers herself into the desk chair. “You said on the phone you were served with a summons?”
“Yes.”
“Got it with you?”
Opal opens her tote, takes out the papers, hands them over. She consoles herself with the thought that Ty said this woman is good.
Vivian picks up a pack of Winstons, shakes one out, lights it, takes a deep drag that she holds for a beat before exhaling. As if her craving is momentarily satisfied, she takes up the papers and scans them, frowning when she’s done. “Not a lot of time before the hearing,” she says. “It’s scheduled for the twenty-eighth.”
As if she can’t read. She doesn’t need to pay God knows what an hour for this nicotine-fixated bitch to tell her things that an idiot could read on her own.
“I’ll need some background,” Vivian says, taking another deep drag. “You’re not married to this—” She refers to the papers. “—William Steele. Correct?”
That is one mistake she’s avoided. “No.”
“And you’ve never been married to him?”
No matter what Ty said, this woman is not the fastest engine rolling down the track. “No.”
“Let’s start with the paternity issue. Is there any question that William—”
“Billy,” Opal says.
“That Billy is the father?”
“No.”
“Do you have any formal arrangements with him?”
“Arrangements?”
“Visitation rights. Things like that.”
“No.”
“Has he ever mentioned anything about formal custody arrangements? Anything like that?”
“No.”
“And he’s never denied he’s Zack’s father?”
“No. That’s why this doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows he’s Zack’s daddy. Why is he making such a big deal about it?”
“Well, one reason is that establishing paternity is the first step in requesting custody, and it looks like he wants to gain custody,” Vivian says.
“But he can’t do that, can he? I mean, there’s no way he can get Zack, is there? I’m his mama. How could he even think he could get custody?”
Vivian takes another drag, using the time to study Opal. “Let’s back up a little before we get to that question. First thing. House rules: I need you to tell me everything. No secrets. No lies.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I could come up with an easy dozen off the top of my head, but let’s not waste time. You agree? No lies?”
Opal nods.
“Okay. Let’s start with your move to Massachusetts. When did you relocate here?”
“Last September.”
“And why did you leave North Carolina?”
Fuck. She might as well be back in school, or talking to Melva. “It’s a free country.”
The lawyer leans back in the swivel chair. “Two pieces of advice: Get used to answering questions because, believe me, it’s just beginning. And get the chip off your shoulder. It won’t help you here, and it sure as shit won’t help you in front of a judge.”
Get the chip off her shoulder. What is this woman? Melva’s clone?
“Understand?” the lawyer asks.
“Okay.”
“So why did you move here? Did you have friends or family here? A job?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“So how did you land here?”
Opal doesn’t mention the three tanks of gas or the importance of signs. This woman has as much imagination as a basket of chips. “I’ve always wanted to live in Massachusetts,” she says, making her voice soft and sweet. “Since I was a little girl. I thought there would be more opportunities for Zack. Down the road. College and things like that. I like to think ahead.”
The lawyer leans back and squints at her through a stream of smoke. Opal fears she’s overdone it. She’ll have to be careful.
“No question, the fact that you left North Carolina complicates things. Under normal circumstances, a father can’t be denied the rights of paternity. By moving here, Billy can make a case that he’s being denied his rights.”
“But he didn’t even want Zack. He wanted me to have an abortion.”
“Well, he wants him now.” She refers again to the papers. “It’s in your favor that he waited six months to file. Otherwise you’d be heading back to North Carolina to have the case heard there. The thing that concerns me is that he’s asking for full custody, not shared. That means he’s prepared to fight.”
“Billy always wants what he can’t have.”
“To get sole custody, he will have to prove Zack would be better off with him, that he is the more fit parent. Is there any reason a judge would rule that Zack would be better off with him? Because that’s what he—or she—will be looking for.”
“That’s flat-out ridiculous.” No one could take better care of Zack than she does. Certainly not Billy. Opal can’t even imagine him trying it: making meals, doing laundry, listening to him, tucking him in every night. Jesus.
“Here’s the picture. The court’s job is to determine what’s in Zack’s best interest. The system is set up to protect the noncustodial parent—in this case Billy—from changes like a move out of state. Like it or not, Billy, as Zack’s legal father, has rights, and the system is designed to shield those rights, Now, it’s not as cut and dried as it seems. They’ll take into consideration Zack’s current relationships with both you and Billy. Although the relationship of the noncustodial parent is not necessarily the determining factor in deciding best interest, it’s definitely something they’ll be looking at. Does Billy have an ongoing relationship with Zack?”
“He’s seen him once in the past six months. Not exactly what you’d call ongoing.”
Vivian scribbles a note on her pad.
“What about before you left North Carolina? Were you and Zack living with Billy then?”
“Shit, no.”
“And did he have a relationship with Zack then? Did he see him regularly? Share the care of him? Have him visit overnight?”
“Occasionally. If it didn’t interfere with his life.” She’s tired of the questions. She wants this woman to tell her there is no way she’s going to lose Zack, no way Billy is going to get custody. That the idea is ridiculous. She wants reassurance.
“What about his parents? Did Zack spend time with them?” Vivian stubs out the cigarette, lights another.
“No. They didn’t want anything to do with Zack or me.” As far as Billy’s parents are concerned, she is Satan incarnate.
“What about support? Does he give you money toward Zack’s expenses?”
“Only for the past two months. He’s sent a couple of checks. I thought he was feeling guilty.” Now she understands. How could she have believed they came without a reason?
Vivian adds another note to the pad. “And at present there aren’t any formal arrangements for visitation rights?”
“You aren’t getting the picture. Billy never asked for any. I told you, he never even wanted me to have Zack.”
“Was he ever abusive? Ever hit you or Zack?”
“No.”
“Drink heavily? Take drugs?”
“No.”
She scribbles out a few more sentences. “Anything you want to add? Anything you think might help? Anything we haven’t covered?”
“What will happen at the hearing?”
“The judge will listen to the petitions. He’ll appoint a guardian ad litem.”
“A guardian.” Opal’s heart actually stops. “For Zack?”
“That’s the name, but try and think of it as an advocate. Someone who will investigate; talk to you and Zack
and Billy, maybe friends and coworkers; try and get a picture of Zack’s life; and then report the findings—along with a recommendation—back to the court. Hold on. Let me check something.”
She flips through a calendar, runs a finger—nail-bitten, Opal notices—along the page. “One piece of good news for you. Judge Carlyle is sitting that week.”
“That’s good?” Opal clutches on to the first hopeful thing to come out of this woman’s mouth.
“She’s fair. Won’t come in with a bias. Hearing custody cases really is a job for Solomon. I won’t go so far as to say Judge Carlyle is the wisest judge in the county, but she really tries to be fair.”
This is the best thing Vivian Cummings has said so far. Anyone who’s trying to be fair, who’s concerned about Zack’s best interest, that person would never take Zack away from her.
“We’ll meet again before the hearing. Go over everything.”
“One thing,” Vivian says as Opal prepares to leave. “From here on in, assume you’re being watched.”
“Watched?”
“Billy’s probably hired an investigator. That’s what I’d tell him to do if he were my client. Custody cases have a way of turning nasty. What about you? Do you drink?”
“No. Only a beer every now and then.”
“Do drugs?”
“No.”
“That’s two things we won’t have to worry about muddying the waters and prejudicing the judge. And Zack’s healthy? No illnesses. No accidents?”
Opal sinks back into the chair.
“What?” Vivian says.
“There was an accident. He broke his arm.”
She makes a notation on the pad. “When?”
“Last fall.”
“How?”
House rules: No secrets. No lies. “He fell,” she says without the slightest hesitation. “In the tub.”
“Where were you?”
“Downstairs.”
“Were you alone with him?”
“What the hell are you suggesting?” This was the hospital all over again.
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m getting information. Information you can bet Billy will have. Were you alone with Zack when he broke his arm?”
“No. My neighbor was there. Rose Nelson.”
“Lucky for you. We’ll have a witness if they try and make a case for neglect.” Busy writing down Rose’s name, Vivian does not see the fear on Opal’s face.
SHE PICKS UP ZACK ON THE WAY HOME. NOT LATE. SHE’LL BE on time from now on. Every day. She’ll do everything absolutely right. She’ll be a great mother. A perfect mother.
“Look,” he says. “We made puppets.” He holds a brown paper bag out to her. His fist is inside, making the bag bob up and down. “Guess what it is?” He’s giving her his biggest smile. Even the idea that Billy could take him pulls the breath right out of her.
“It’s great, Zack.”
“But guess what it is.”
She takes her eyes from the road long enough to study the bag, sees the jagged fringe along the top, the red-and-orange bolts beneath the nose. “A dragon,” she says.
“Right,” Zack says. “You guessed.”
No way Billy would have known. Not in a million years. He wouldn’t have a clue. She hugs this small victory close.
“MAMA? IT’S ME, OPAL.” SHE PAUSES, WAITING FOR SOME sign that her mama will comfort her. Lord knows, she could use some comfort. Through the connection, she hears Melva’s tired sigh as clear as if they were in the same room, as clear as a pin dropping, like that advertisement for the long distance company.
“How is everyone?” she asks, searching for an opening to tell Melva what’s happening. “How’s Daddy?”
“We’re doing fine. It’s not us you need to be worrying about.”
Shit. There’s no mistaking her mama’s tone. “You’ve heard? You know what that asshole Billy’s gone and done?”
“Watch your language, Raylee. You know I won’t stand for cursing.”
“But you know what he’s done? Right?”
“We know he’s trying to bring our boy back where he belongs. That’s what we know.”
“Where he belongs? He belongs with me. That’s where Zack belongs, Mama.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Well, Billy’s dead wrong if he thinks he can make me come back there by blackmailing me with the threat of custody.”
“I don’t think Billy is the least bit interested in bringing you back here, Raylee. I think you’ve tried his patience on that matter. You’ve wrung the last bit of patience out of all of us.”
“I thought you’d be on my side, Mama. I’m your flesh and blood.”
“Zack’s our flesh and blood, too. We’re backing Billy one hundred percent on this. Until you get some sense in your head, I’ve got nothing more to say.”
“No one’s going to take Zack from me. I’m his mama.”
“You’re stubborn and foolish. That’s what you are. That always was your mistake. Now you’re heading for trouble, and I swear I won’t shed a tear. The way you’re heading, you’re going to end up just like May.”
“Why is it always me, Mama? Why am I always the one in the wrong?”
“Don’t you be getting sassy with me. And if you think we’ll just sit by and do nothing while you ruin Zack’s life, you are sadly mistaken.”
“I’m not ruining anyone’s life. Zack and I are doing just fine.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’ve got your head turned round and you wouldn’t know straight if it walked up and bit you.”
“That’s not true, Mama. We’re happy here and things are fine. Why can’t you see the truth?”
“The truth? Since when did you become reacquainted with the truth?”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” Opal says. “I’m going to hang up, Mama.” No sense talking anymore. No sense in trying to get the last word in on her mama. No one ever has.
CHAPTER 28
ROSE
“SO,” NED SAYS. “WHAT’S ON THE AGENDA FOR TODAY?” “The dentist,” Rose tells him. She waits, takes a breath, and plunges in, “Then I thought I’d take the bus over to Springfield.”
“Springfield?” Ned gives her a sharp look. If he were a suspicious man, Rose would have cause to worry.
“I thought I’d do a little shopping at the mall. Maybe buy a new bedspread. Ours is worn thin. The fact is we could use some new towels, too.” She can barely look at him.
But now he is smiling like a crazy man. He’s already looking ahead: She’s back working at Fosters, measuring out seersucker and calico, selling pink satin for prom dresses, bringing home the odd yard or two at the end of a bolt, sewing herself a skirt.
“That’s great, Rosie,” he says. His pleasure, his hope shames her. “Do you need money?”
When she called the Women’s Health Services she hadn’t asked about fees. She hasn’t the slightest idea what it will run, and she can’t go by what Doc charges. Doctors now charge an arm and a leg. She can’t use insurance. That would lead to forms coming to the house. Paperwork Ned might see. If things get complicated—if it’s malignant—there will be plenty of time for insurance.
He pulls out his wallet and insists on giving her a twenty.
“What time’s the appointment?”
“Appointment?”
“The dentist.”
“Ten o’clock.” For a terrible moment she fears he’s got it in his head to drive her.
HE LEAVES, WHISTLING, HAPPY AS A LOON ’CAUSE SHE’S GOING off to shop for a bedspread, the first step down the road to being her old self. She skips most of her regular chores, using the time to shower and change into panty hose, a dress. She’s ready early, waiting in front of the house for Willis to show up with his cab.
“Federal Savings,” she tells him.
Years ago, when she was pregnant with Todd, she started a bank account. Every week she’d slip something in from the household mon
ey. Tight weeks no more than a dollar. Other times as much as a ten. And the birthday and Christmas envelopes from Ned—I never know what you’d like, Rosie, so take this and get yourself something you want—all those crisp twenty- and fifty-dollar bills went straight into the account. Her dream account. What she was dreaming of was a good start for Todd. College, if scholarships didn’t cover everything. Anything left over, she and Ned would take a vacation. Travel to different parts of the country. Her whole life she’s wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Those dreams are so far in the past, they belong to a different woman.
It has been five years since Rose has made a deposit, and it takes a few minutes for the computer to tally all the interest she’s accrued. It nearly fills the whole passbook. When she slides it through the window, Rose can hardly believe what she sees: $10,434.50. Ten thousand dollars. For dreams that are dead. She withdraws one hundred. She can’t imagine it will cost more than that for a doctor to take a look at her mole. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. What could they charge for that?
The bus is on schedule. She recognizes the driver, the same man who drove the run to Pellington, and she concentrates on getting the token in the coin box. The bus is nearly empty, no more than a dozen passengers—mostly students and middle-aged women like herself. She walks to the rear, takes a seat, plops her handbag down on the space next to her. She doesn’t want any Chatty Cathy sitting down and making conversation all the way to Springfield. Do you have children? How does she answer? No. And erase Todd, as if he’s never been. Yes. And leave her open to more questions. One. A boy. He would have been twenty-one. Accident. Sixteen. And suffer the inevitable, suffocating sympathy.
There should be a name for people who have lost a child. If your husband dies, you’re a widow. If your parents die, you’re an orphan. But there is no word in the dictionary that can be used to describe the limbo of losing a child. Maybe in another language. One of those tongues that has seventy words for love, one hundred words for snow. Maybe the Eskimos have a word to describe a person who’s been robbed of her child.
SHE CAN SEE AT ONCE THAT THE CLINIC IS A MISTAKE. IT’S located in a storefront on the edge of the downtown district. The floor is covered with that cheap indoor-outdoor stuff they use that wears like iron and doesn’t show stains. Ugly as sin. The place is filled with pregnant women and kids with colds. Most of the children are sprawled on the filthy carpet playing with a crate of toys. There is a poster on the wall promoting flu shots and another says something about AIDS. Heavens.
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