Mindy’s mouth fell open. “Give it time! Beth, he’s out with a different woman every night. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly pining away, would you?”
“He’s doing precisely what I expected him to do.”
“Oh, really?” Mindy said skeptically.
“Really. He’s not the type to moon around and feel sorry for himself. He takes his mind off his problems by going out and keeping himself occupied.”
“He’s been occupied, all right. By that standard he must be madly in love with you,” Mindy observed darkly.
“Did you come by just to cheer me up, or what?” Beth asked.
“I came by to tell you I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mindy answered.
“I hope I do, too. But I see no alternative. Am I supposed to join the ranks of Gloria, Althea, et al? The line forms on the right. No, thanks.”
“Who’s Althea?” Mindy asked curiously.
“That’s Dr. Reynolds’s first name,” Beth replied patiently.
“Sounds like an opera singer,” Mindy said, sniffing.
“And looks like a movie star,” Beth added sadly.
Mindy sighed. “I guess there’s no chance she’s stupid, either.”
“No chance at all. She’s head of the orthopedic service at Johnson.”
“Jeez,” Mindy said. “That’s demoralizing.” She held an envelope up to the light. “Are you interested in a subscription to Barrister magazine?” she asked Beth.
“Nope.”
Mindy threw the envelope in the trash. “When are you going to see Bram again?”
“His hearing is tomorrow. I’m going to meet him at the courthouse.”
“Haven’t you been working with him at Curtis?”
“I’ve sent some things over by messenger. I felt if I saw him in person I might do something I’d regret later, so I’ve been steering clear of him.”
“So tomorrow is the big test?”
Beth shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll both stand up in front of a judge who will tell Bram what a bad boy he’s been. Bram and I won’t even be alone together.”
“You have four overdue books at the Suffield library,” Mindy announced, reading from a slip in her hand.
“Oh, God. I’ve had them out since the Flood. It would probably be cheaper to buy them than to pay what I owe.” She threw down her pen in frustration. “It would take a team of accountants to untangle these records. I need a secretary.”
“Get one.”
Beth stared at Mindy. “Melinda Sue, I can’t afford a secretary.”
Mindy brightened. “Hal knows somebody at work whose wife is looking for a part-time job. Maybe you could pay her by the hour, keep the cost down.”
“Do you think so?” Beth asked, interested.
“You’ll never know unless you try. I’ll give Hal your number to pass on, and she can call you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“De nada,” Mindy replied, showing off her high school Spanish. “Hey, what’s this? Looks like a wedding invitation.”
“It is. My second cousin Eleanor is getting married.”
“Nice paper,” Mindy commented, fingering it “Are you going to go?”
“I guess.”
“By yourself?”
“Unless I ask Jason, but I think that would encourage him too much.”
“What’s wrong with that? Why should you sit home while Bram has a good time?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to Jason. I’m not interested in him.”
“Then ask Bram.”
Beth’s eyes widened. She put her hands on her hips.
“Okay, okay, don’t listen to me. Nobody else does.” Mindy tore up an advertising circular and threw it out. “By the way, did I tell you that Anabel Curtis has a new boyfriend?”
Beth tried not to show a betraying amount of interest. “Who told you that?”
Mindy waved her hand to indicate a variety of sources. “Somebody went to visit her in Florida and brought back the news. It seems some younger guy is living with her. That should make it easier for Joshua to cut her loose, if he wants to do that.”
“Mindy,” Beth said thoughtfully, “what did you think of Anabel? When she was living at the Curtis house, I mean?”
“I hardly knew her. I remember that she was beautiful; that’s about it.”
“Did you ever hear any talk about her and Bram?”
“The talk was that they hated each other,” Mindy answered, drawing her mouth down at the corners. “Why? What did you mean?” she inquired, when she saw Beth’s dissatisfaction with her reply.
“Oh, nothing,” Beth said evasively, standing up and stretching. “The rest of this will have to wait. I’ve had enough for one day.”
Mindy stood also, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got to run. Hal will be back with the kids in half an hour.” She picked up her jacket and purse, calling over her shoulder, “Let me know what happens at the hearing.”
“I promise I won’t let them take Bram away in chains,” Beth said, grinning.
Mindy chuckled as she went through the door and Beth heard her car start outside seconds later.
What would it be like, Beth wondered, to be married and settled, with a couple of children? What would it be like to be married to Bram, with Bram’s children?
She shook her head quickly, refusing to entertain the fantasy.
She would see him in the morning and, for the time being that would have to suffice.
* * *
The courthouse building was a modern brick structure set incongruously amongst a stand of maples in the old, historic part of Enfield. It looked as if it had been dropped from an airplane to land between the ivy-covered facade of the country day school and the frame and gingerbread outlines of the township offices. Beth adjusted the lapels of her wool blazer as she walked up the path to the front entrance. The day was crisp and cool, full of the brisk fall scent of burning leaves and sun washed apples. On such a day you could almost feel the “breath of autumn’s being” sweeping through the Connecticut Valley, and Beth wished she didn’t have to spend it indoors.
People milled about the lobby, shuffling papers, examining the copies of the court calendar displayed on the walls. Beth spotted Bram lounging against the balustrade that encircled the staircase leading to the upper floor. He straightened when he saw her, and Beth’s pulse leaped at the exact second his eyes met hers.
He waited in silence as she walked toward him, watching her progress across the hall. He’d gotten a haircut, and his beard was trimmed. He was attired in a neat blue suit, and Beth was touched by his efforts to appear respectable. At the same time, she had to admit they were a partial failure; there was a dashing, almost disreputable quality about Bram that even a haircut and a Wall Street outfit couldn’t dispel.
“I missed you,” he greeted her, in a voice so touched with quiet sincerity that Beth halted in her tracks.
His dark eyes held hers, anticipating her response.
“I think we should go in and wait to be called,” she said. “They usually run a little late, so we’ll just sit in the back, all right?”
He hesitated, as if about to say something, and then nodded, indicating that she should precede him. Beth led the way to Room Three, where they were third on the morning’s docket.
Beth didn’t know the judge, whose name was Worthington, but it was clear that Bram did. He swore expressively under his breath when he saw the man sitting behind the desk, listening to the case that preceded theirs.
“What’s the matter?” Beth whispered, turning to look at Bram as they took their seats.
“I had that judge a few years ago when I was here on a disturbing-the-peace charge,” he replied shortly. “I was home on leave, at a friend’s house.”
“What did you do?” Beth asked, concerned.
“Loud party,” he said. “Some neighbors called the cops.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Beth assured him. “He sees hundreds of people a month.”
Judge Worthington remembered Bram. He peered over the tops of his half glasses as Beth and Bram stood before him.
“Mr. Curtis, is it?” he asked, looking down at the papers on his desk.
“That’s right,” Bram said, his tone tinged with hostility.
Beth kicked him on the ankle.
“Yes, sir,” he amended.
“Your honor,” Beth hissed.
“Your honor,” Bram repeated, looking angry already.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Curtis,” Judge Worthington went on, practically rubbing his palms together with anticipation. “I recall your presence before this bench some time ago. Something about playing the bongo drums on the front lawn at two in the morning, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Bram replied curtly.
“Well, Mr. Curtis, it seems like you’ve been up to your old tricks again. I have before me a remarkable document detailing your activities on the evening of September twenty-sixth. It appears you were quite busy.”
Bram kept silent, obviously feeling that such a lily needed no gilding.
“Unless I’m mistaken, you did us all the great favor of staying out of town for a number of years. It looks like you’re making up for lost time since you’ve been back.”
Beth could practically see the steam rising from Bram’s ears. She shot him a look that told him to hang on to his temper and let the judge needle him. It would all be over soon.
The judge picked up a sheaf of papers and waved them in the air. “This is the police report submitted by our estimable Sergeant Canning, and it’s really too good to keep to myself. For the benefit of counsel,” he glanced at Beth, “I’ll read it aloud.”
Bram began to look slightly ill.
“Your name is...?” the judge said, studying Beth.
“Bethany Ferryman Forsyth,” she said briskly, in her best professional manner.
“You’re new at this bar,” he observed. “Any relation to Carter Forsyth?”
“His daughter.”
“Hmmph,” Worthington said. He looked at Bram. “I can’t imagine how you persuaded this lovely young lady to represent you.”
Bram’s fists clenched at his sides.
The judge adjusted his glasses. “At about eleven forty-five P.M. on the evening of September twenty-sixth, you entered into an altercation with a Mr. Matthew Titus of Thompsonville, Connecticut. According to this report, Mr. Titus was having a drink with friends at the Kit-Kat Club in Enfield, Connecticut when you entered and sat at the bar. Mr. Titus made a remark about fancy dudes in tuxedos, which you overheard. You responded with an observation about filthy slobs in overalls. Mr. Titus then yelled that you needed a haircut, to which you replied he needed a bath.”
The judge paused and looked at Beth, to see her reaction to the recital. Beth kept her expression carefully blank.
“Eyewitnesses stated that both you and Mr. Titus were intoxicated. Mr. Titus had been drinking for a while, and you were inebriated when you entered the bar. Is that so?”
Bram grunted.
“Is that a yes or a no, Mr. Curtis?”
“Yes,” Bram growled.
“I see. A pity we couldn’t add a drunk driving charge to those listed here.”
“I didn’t drive while I was drunk,” Bram said. “I had been drinking in the place across the street, and just walked to the Kit-Kat.”
“Very admirable,” the judge said sarcastically. “It seems that it’s only your own safety you disregard.”
When the judge glanced down again, Beth reached for Bram’s hand and squeezed it quickly. He didn’t look at her.
“To continue,” the judge said, “Mr. Titus threw a punch at you when you observed that he needed a bath. You ducked it. He swung again, at which point you hit him with a chair.”
The judge looked up, taking off his glasses. “It goes on in the same vein, with you making speculative remarks about Mr. Titus’ ancestry, and the probable fact that his mother was not married when he was born. Mr. Titus ended the fracas by smashing a bottle and slashing you with it. The police arrived at this juncture and broke up the fight.” Worthington folded his arms. “Well, Curtis, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Bram stared back at him stonily.
“Is this account accurate?” the judge asked.
“Substantially,” Bram replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Titus started it,” Bram replied heatedly. “I tried to ignore him but he wouldn’t let it go.”
“It’s immaterial who started it, Mr. Curtis. This isn’t an elementary school playground fight we’re talking about. You, or Mr. Titus, could have been seriously hurt.”
“My client was hurt,” Beth interjected. “He sustained a wound on his arm inflicted by Mr. Titus. Has Mr. Titus been charged with assault?”
“You let me worry about Mr. Titus, counselor,” the judge said to Beth. “I assure you we have him well in hand. Can we expect this type of behavior from you in future, Mr. Curtis?” the judge asked.
“No.”
Beth believed him. During Worthington’s monologue he’d looked as if it would be a long time before he touched anything stronger than tea.
The judge fixed Bram with an icy stare. “One could have hoped realistically that you might have outgrown this sort of thing by now, Curtis. I should give you the two weeks, but for the sake of your father, whom I have known for many years, and who is a respected member of this community, I’ll go with the fine this time. But if I ever see your face come before this bench again, you will be cooling your heels in the lockup, make no mistake about it.” He banged the gavel. “Seven hundred fifty dollars and six months’ probation. Pay the clerk. Dismissed.”
Bram turned on his heel immediately. Worthington looked at Beth.
“Counselor, see what you can do to control this wild man, will you?”
“I’ll do my best, your honor,” Beth replied meekly, and fled.
Out in the corridor, Bram leaned his head back against the wall, pulling his tie loose from its knot. “Whew,” he said wearily. “That turkey really raked me over the coals.”
Beth nodded sympathetically. “He had it in for you, all right. That kind of hearing is usually over in five minutes with a slap on the wrist and a warning to behave. I don’t know why he felt he had to read all that stuff out loud.”
Bram turned to look at her. “He was trying to make me look ridiculous, humiliate me in front of you. And he succeeded.”
“Oh, Bram, that isn’t true,” Beth said softly, her heart going out to him. “Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Not as many as I make.” He glanced away, his dark eyes bleak. “And I keep making the same one.” He looked back at Beth, attempting a smile. “You must think I’m a real jerk.”
“No, I don’t,” Beth replied, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “I think that you’re...”
“What?” he prompted, eyeing her intently.
“Unhappy,” she finished, watching his reaction.
He smiled grimly, then half laughed as he responded, “God knows, that’s true enough.”
Beth felt his confusion, his pain, and wished that she could solve everything for him, take away the bad experiences that had made him what he was. But she loved what he was, and was willing to take the bad with the good.
Bram raked his hand through his hair, lifting it from his forehead. “It’s my own fault, mouse. The judge was right. I should have outgrown this nonsense; I’m too old to be getting into fights in bars.” He grinned suddenly, displaying a flash of the charm Beth found so irresistible. “In fact, I was too old ten years ago. That never stopped me, though.”
“I feel responsible,” Beth said quietly. “I gave you a hard time the night you wound up at the Kit-Kat. Some of the things I said were very unfair.”
“Some of the th
ings you said were perfectly true,” Bram countered, admiration creeping into his tone. “Told me off, didn’t you, counselor?”
“I’m not proud of what I did.”
“You should be. Never be ashamed of honesty, not with me, anyway.” He smiled slightly. “I might not like hearing it at the time, but I like lies a lot less.” He reached out and ran a strand of her hair through his fingers. “Maybe I need an honest woman to make a man of me.”
“You’re already a man, Bram,” Beth answered, afraid to say anything more.
He snorted. “Physically, sure, but I’m not certain about emotionally.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “You see, mouse, I am aware of my shortcomings. I just can’t seem to figure out what to do about them.”
Let me help you, Beth wanted to say. “I think you’re all right,” she said lightly, half kidding, trying to tease him out of this confessional mood that was bringing her dangerously close to tears. Bram in a rage was at least familiar; this was heartbreaking.
“I think I really could shape up, you know, if I had someone to depend on, someone who would be faithful,” he said, almost to himself, as if she hadn’t spoken.
I’m here, Beth thought. But he didn’t believe such a woman existed, and she knew it. It hurt her deeply that even after their night together he couldn’t see that what he needed was standing right in front of him.
A couple passed next to them, laughing, and they both looked up, startled. They had forgotten where they were.
“You look lovely in those clothes,” Bram said suddenly, changing the subject. “Like an autumn leaf.”
Beth was wearing a rust-and-brown tweed suit with a harvest gold blouse. “I’m glad you like them,” she said.
“And you’re wearing my bracelet,” he added, delighted. He had caught sight of it when she moved her hand.
“Yes.”
He set his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, putting her back to the hall.
“Beth, something has been bothering me. The night we spent together—we didn’t use any precautions. You could be pregnant.”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
He seemed almost disappointed, an odd reaction from a man who had made a lifetime fetish of avoiding responsibility.
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