by Kathryn Shay
Just as she straightened, she heard, “Hey, Hayley, catch.” She turned fast but not quick enough and the beach ball hit her in the face. “Ouch.”
“Sorry,” Seth called out. He stood in the water on the other side of the pool with Gideon, both cousins wearing bathing suits and Ray Bans. “You okay?” Seth was not referring to the beach ball.
“Yeah, sure.”
After removing her dress, she stretched out in the chaise next to Alessia.
“Where’s Finn?” Ali asked. She was his age.
“I wish he could have come. I called yesterday and reminded him of the invitation, but he was taking his boat on an overnight down the coast with a friend. He would have changed his plans, otherwise.”
“Too bad.”
Hayley scrunched her nose. “And I wish Ronan was here, damn him. I miss my oldest brother.”
“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine not having Rafe in my life.”
“He’s a gem.”
“That he is.” Rafe’s wife, Kate Cassidy Casella, had come up to them. She’d gotten a bigger baby bump since the picnic at the lake house in June. Which seemed like a lifetime ago. “Can I join you?”
“As if you have to ask.” Ali started to stand. “Need help.”
“Not quite yet.” Kate maneuvered herself onto another chaise. “Hell, I got five months to go and I’m already having trouble sitting on these.” She rolled her eyes. “Last time, I got huge, too.”
“I think you look adorable now, Kate,” Hayley told her, a bit envious. She’d had some fleeting daydreams about her and Paul making a baby.
Kate and Ali exchanged glances.
“What was that for?”
Ali asked, “Where’s the guy you told Rafe you were bringing?”
Well, he pretty much broke my heart over the weekend. But she didn’t say that. It would overshadow the day and everybody would worry about her. “He couldn’t come, after all.”
“Sorry about that,” Kate said.
Ali squeezed her arm. “Too bad.”
“So, give me updates on everything.” Hayley wanted to switch the subject. “I haven’t seen you in a month.”
Hayley joyfully listened to Ali talk about her kids and her plans to go back to school. “So, I’ll be in the city sometimes.”
Kate talked about her job this summer in the fire department helping at Hale’s Haven, a camp Megan and Mitch Malvaso had started. Surrounded by family, both women lifted her spirits. Coming here was what she needed.
Seth cornered her on the upper deck when she came out of the house after using the bathroom. Everyone else was at the pool. “Come sit, Red.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer redhaired. It’s auburn.”
He grinned. “Sitting around with the others, it takes me back is all, to when we were kids and it was flaming red.”
She smiled. “I’ve had the same thoughts here.”
“How’d it go after I left yesterday?”
“Badly. Similar to when we were in court. Both stubborn. Both throwing zingers. In some ways, I’m embarrassed by my behavior. In some ways, I want to clobber him over the head.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, then he sobered. “You can’t live with him still keeping secrets?”
“No. Not when he’s made such a big deal of this. Seth, I’m falling in love with him.”
“Wow, big admission. Did you tell him that?”
“No, I got too mad at him.” She closed her eyes. “I should have known this wouldn’t work.”
“You’re throwing in the towel on your relationship already?”
“Maybe I should before we get in deeper. We’ve only been close a few weeks.”
“Want some advice?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You’re already in deep. By your own admission. Hang in there.”
* * *
After another night of only a few hours of sleep, Paul was going crazy. He went for a long run, picked up the New York Times, got coffee and went back to his place. Sitting outside, he tried to read the paper. He got five minutes into the news and couldn’t stay still. Maybe he should call someone, a woman he dated off and on, the arrangement casual by mutual consent.
If I’m free, I’ll see you again.
What the hell do you mean if you’re free?
But he wasn’t up to a date. He didn’t want to be with anyone but Hayley. So he showered and got his car. Maybe he’d go out on the boat. But when he reached the marina, he couldn’t do that either. Being on board would remind him too much of her, of what they did down below deck.
He knew one thing that would take his mind off her.
He steered the car to Greenpoint, slowing going down Fourth Street. It looked like his family home was closed up, which was odd since the weather was so pleasant. He drove further, and came upon Lena’s house. Her place was beautifully landscaped in the front, but the whole side was left grassy. From where he was, he couldn’t see the back of her house, but even down here, he heard the noise.
He parked down a bit closer to the large side yard and saw a sprinkler had been set up with that yellow, slippery thing kids used to slide on when it got wet.
His heart clutched hard in his chest. It started to feel like a heart attack. Because before him were one, two, three…eight children. He’d rarely allowed himself to think about having nieces and nephews. And he’d never seen them on his incognito trips to the street. Now, he studied them. They were all different heights, mostly dark-haired, but a few were blondes. Some were small-framed, some large, but they all were sturdy. Then one came around the side, on crutches. Was he ill, or had he had an accident? Paul cringed when he realized he had no right to know.
But as they screeched at the cold water, slid down on their stomachs, called out to their cousins, Paul had to face the fact these cherished young ones lived only thirty minutes from him, and he’d never seen them. Never touched their down-like skin when they were born. Never smelled their baby shampoo. Never changed their diapers, or gone to a dance recital or school play or baseball game. His entire body ached with knowledge.
And one tear worked its way down his cheek.
Chapter 7
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we’re here today to right an unconscionable wrong. This couple, seated with our illustrious colleague at the defense table, is accused of Medicare fraud. They single-handedly cheated a government program out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.” Hayley cocked her head. “Those thousands of dollars are no longer available to you, each of you, when you turn sixty-five.” She saw a gray-haired man scowl. A young juror was wide-eyed. “Not only that, the Feinsteins insisted on dangerous surgeries for these vulnerable victims who sought their help with back pain that, according to experts we’ll bring in, could have been treated with medication. But their policy was to only prescribe that medication if the patients went through operations first.”
She turned and walked in front of the accused couple. These were the kind of people she despised. And Paul was defending them. “Mr. and Mrs. Feinstein have committed crimes against humanity and the prosecution is asking for reparations to each person they abused and twenty years in jail for their crimes.”
The woman gasped. Good.
“How could they do such a heinous thing?” she asked, crossing back to the jury. “Pure greed. Money gained by hurting others. They’ve betrayed—no, wait—stomped on their Hippocratic Oath, Do no harm, which every doctor swears to uphold. They deserve the maximum sentence.” She gave the jury a nod, walked close to the defense table, glared at the three people sitting there, then dropped down into her own chair.
The judge said, “Mr. Covington, are you ready with your opening remarks?”
“Very much so, after that.”
Judge Larson, a younger man recently appointed to the bench scowled at Paul. This was the first case he and Hayley argued as opposing counsel since their contempt charge. A different judge, but his
expression was meant as a warning.
Paul walked to the jury box. His stride was long and masculine, his shoulders wide, his hair attractively tousled. If she was a female juror, she’d swoon.
But she wouldn’t swoon now. She’d fought all week to inure herself against him. She refused to talk about him to Seth and Finn. She viciously stopped herself from thinking about him when she was alone. Or when memories preyed on her during work. She kept her head down and ploughed through the pain.
Still, she was miserable.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began. “The prosecution has her suppositions wrong. In cases like these, overzealous district attorneys often cherry pick the facts. In the coming days, the defense will show that those treated by the Feinsteins are not victims, as she calls them, but patients who wanted the surgeries and are recovering from them. We’ll also show the judicious distribution of necessary pain meds, not the willy-nilly prescribing the prosecution alleges. They are doctors. They knew what they were doing. And it wasn’t illegal or immoral. It was right.”
Oh, brother, Hayley thought. He didn’t believe that any more than she did. An overwhelming sense of loss hit her. How could the man she cared so much about compromise himself this badly? In short, he wasn’t the person she thought he was.
That should help cure her. God help her, she’d get over him—and soon!
* * *
As Paul sat back down after opening statements, he blanked his mind of the detestable case he’d taken on. He’d been under extreme pressure by the partners to argue this one. So, he told himself everybody deserved a defense. Told himself that these were the kind of cases that established a reputation for cut-throat defense attorneys. And that’s exactly what he wanted to be. He was done playing the good guy.
He glanced to the side. His new attitude was because of the woman who was checking her phone, and when she did turn her gaze toward him, she looked right through him. Fuck her.
Judge Larson asked, “Are you prepared to call witnesses, ADA Casella?”
“Yes, your honor. I call Amelia Bailey to the stand.”
Hayley approached a hunched over woman with gray hair and an almost-emaciated frame, who used a walker to come forward. Solicitously, Hayley asked, “Do you need any help, ma’am?”
“Maybe getting up the steps.”
“Judge, may she testify from the floor, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
If he hadn’t known Hayley so well, he’d think she was performing for the jury. But she would treat an old woman like this, one who was sick. Sicker than she should be, Paul knew in his heart.
Once Mrs. Bailey reached the front of the courtroom, Hayley lowered the fold-down seat on the walker and the woman eased herself onto it. “Are you comfortable? Do you need some water?”
Paul gritted his teeth.
“No thank you.”
The bailiff swore the witness in and Hayley started her questions. “Mrs. Bailey, could you tell the court where your pain is?”
“In my lower back.”
“On a scale of one to ten, what is your pain level right now?”
“It’s a nine.”
“You’ll have to speak up ma’am.” The judge’s tone was kind.
“A-a nine.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Mrs. Bailey? Your hands are shaking.”
“They shake all the time since the surgery.”
Hayley continued, “Have you taken the oxycodone prescribed by the Drs. Feinstein?”
“Yes. I’m taking them three times a day.”
“What was your original pain level, when you first went to the clinic?”
“About a six. On a bad day.”
“I see. So, you’re in more pain now, than before surgery?”
“Yes.”
“I object to this questioning. Ms. Casella isn’t trained to interview a patient for medical details. There are a variety of pain-control measures she probably doesn’t know about.”
The argument was weak, but he could see the jury’s shock and was trying to dilute it.
Hayley rolled her eyes at him.
The judge said, “That’s a frivolous complaint, Mr. Covington. Objection overruled.”
“Mrs. Bailey, how long ago was the surgery?”
“Six months.”
“Are you feeling any better at all?”
“I’m worse. I hurt constantly and I’m in a fog all the time.”
Finally, Hayley said, “No more questions.”
As he stood and approached the stand, Paul knew he had to tread lightly. Mrs. Bailey seemed even more frail up close. Her shoulders were bony and stuck out. “Hello, Mrs. Bailey.”
“Hello.”
“How long have you been suffering from back pain?”
“Most of my adult life.”
“Have pain killers reduced it at any time through the years?”
“Some.”
“Did you want back surgery?”
“They thought it would help. I was taught to listen to doctors.”
“Do you think they did the wrong thing?”
“Objection. Irrelevant.”
“Objection sustained.”
Paul asked a few more question then retired the witness. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.
The testimony stretched on with the four more clients who were seeking damages. Same story. Same suffering.
At noon, the judge banged the gavel. “We’ll recess for lunch. Court will resume at two p.m.”
Everyone stood and the judge left, then the courtroom started to empty.
“Doesn’t seem like this is going well, Covington,” Robert Feinstein said. The small man with a big wallet frowned at him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s early, Robert. We haven’t presented our case yet. The prosecution always goes first. We’ll have our time.”
“I hope so.” The Feinsteins left.
When the exit doors closed, Paul looked over at Hayley. She had her head down, writing herself some notes on a legal pad. He noticed some tendrils had come out of the knot at her neck. He’d be damned if he’d be ignored. He crossed to stand in front of her. “Hayley?”
She looked up. Her face was unlined, with no weary ones around her mouth and eyes. Guess she was doing just fine. Unlike him, whose anxiety and confusion had given him wrinkles. “Yes, Paul?”
“How have you been?”
She straightened. “As well as can be expected. You?”
“Pretty miserable.”
Tossing the pen down, her shoulders flattened. “Me, too.”
“What did you do all week?”
“I buried myself in this case.”
“So did I.”
“It’s a distasteful one. You must think so.”
“Everybody deserves a defense.” But even his voice was weak.
She stood. “I suppose so. Well, good luck.”
“You, too.”
She walked down the aisle toward the doors. Her graceful movement, innate to her, made him long for her. He said, “Hayley?”
Turning in the empty courtroom, she raised her brows. “Yes?”
“I miss you.”
Again, the vulnerable expression. “I miss you, too.”
One of the double doors to the courtroom opened and in walked a man. He only had eyes for Hayley. “Hey, beautiful, ready for lunch?”
Paul froze. Already? She had a date already?
He couldn’t see how she reacted to the guy. Was she uncomfortable in her workplace with his greeting? Or did she swoon. Nah, she wasn’t the swooning type. “Hello, Todd.”
Paul walked toward them.
Todd gave him an all-male grin. “Hey, Covington.”
“Hello, Harrison.”
Paul looked at Hayley. “That last thing you said?”
She raised her chin, as if she knew what was coming. “Yes?”
“Can’t be it was all that true.” He transferred his gaze
to Todd and said, “Have a nice lunch,” when all he wanted to do was punch the guy in the face.
* * *
Stupidly distraught, Hayley tried to listen to Todd Harrison tell her about his latest, high-dollar case. But her mind drifted back to the abject expression on Paul’s face when he realized she had a date.
“Hayley, are you with me?” The man’s eyebrows, a honey blond, narrowed. Combined with his hair, also light, he was very attractive in a slick sort of way. But she felt no pull toward him.
“I’m sorry. What did you want to know?”
“If you ever thought about leaving the DA’s office.”
“Yes, I have.”
“What would you do?”
“Probably set up my own firm. Take enough high-paying clients to keep the place afloat, then do pro bono work.”
“Why on earth would you give half a practice to pro bono?”
Well, that pegs you, Todd.
“Because I believe those to whom much is given, much is expected. And yes, that’s a biblical reference.”
“Huh. I can’t imagine living in New York and not having a lot of money.”
She didn’t tell him she already had a lot of money.
“So, what about family?” she asked him, changing the subject. “Have you ever been married, had kids?”
“Yes, to both. Luckily, my wallet is still intact.”
“You don’t pay child support?” She couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice.
“Yes, of course. But I got away with the minimum.”
“Do you see your kids?”
“Not a lot. They moved back to Minnesota with their mother. Her family’s there. She got a job with a high-powered law firm, so she doesn’t need much from me.”
You should want to support your kids, idiot.
Hayley didn’t say that, of course. She picked up her menu to order.
She endured the lunch—at least the Caesar salad with chicken was tasty. But Todd talked non-stop about his future plans between bites of his bacon cheese burger and fries. At the end, she insisted she pay for her own meal. He didn’t object.
When they got to the sidewalk, he said, “I’d love to see you again.” He moved in closer, his cologne expensive but a bit overpowering. “You know, maybe get to know each other better.”