by Kathryn Shay
She stepped back. “I feel like I already know you very well.”
His eyes glimmered with sexual intent. “In that case, let’s—”
She held up her hand. “No. I wasn’t flirting with you. Answer me one question, other than the helping people thing, what did you find out about me during lunch?”
He caught on to what she was saying. “Well, you didn’t talk much.”
“Why was that?”
“What are you saying, Hayley?”
“This, plain and simple. You were totally self-absorbed. You asked me about business plans but then went on to talk about yours. The whole time.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“What else do you know about?”
He stared at her.
“I rest my case. I don’t want to see you again, Todd.” Giving him her back, she walked away, down the street.
But she heard him say, “Bitch!”
So much for a luncheon date.
* * *
The afternoon in court consisted of more victims’ testimony.
A young male athlete hobbled up on crutches to the jury box. After he was sworn in, Hayley said, “Mr. Johnson, right?”
“Bobby.” The kid was red-haired and freckle-faced.
“Tell me Bobby, how old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“In your junior year at school?”
“Sophomore.” He sighed. “I started young on the team.”
“What team is that?”
“Varsity soccer team at Hampton Prep.”
She pretended surprise. “That’s quite an accomplishment. How did you get hurt?”
“I was really rockin’ down the field when one of the players on my own team stopped short. We collided and fell to the ground. He wasn’t hurt, but I tore my ACL.”
“And you needed surgery?”
“Just one, I thought.”
“You thought?” She frowned. “Bobby, how many times were you operated on?”
“Four.”
“Oh, dear Lord, you poor boy.”
“I object.”
“Sustained.”
“Are you on pain pills?”
“Yeah, my dad says I gotta watch out for them or I’ll get hooked.”
“You do. You finally went to another doctor, right?”
“Yeah, our family doctor. He said I shouldn’t of had to have four surgeries. My father got pissed off but he was the one who listened to them.” He pointed to the Feinsteins.”
“Let the record show Bobby indicated the defendants.”
Hayley shook her head. “You father wanted you to play, right?”
“Objection. Leading the witness.”
“I’ll rephrase it. Why did your father take you to the Feinsteins in the first place?”
“Other guys on the team got results from those doctors. They said I’d be on the field by fall.”
“This fall?”
“Yes. I wanted to be, Mrs. Casella. Bad.”
“I know you did. None of this is your fault, Bobby.” She turned to the jury. “That’s all for now. When we call expert witnesses tomorrow, I might need to question you again.”
Paul approached the witness. And bombarded the kid with questions, one right after the other.
“Mr. Johnson, you sought out the Feinsteins, right?”
“Wasn’t your father pushing you to do that?
“You wanted a quick fix, right?”
“Did anyone coerce you into seeing the Feinsteins?”
“Aren’t you and your family angry at the doctors?”
Hayley objected periodically, but by the time Bobby was excused, Paul had beaten him up emotionally.
She stood. “Judge Larson, may counsel approach the bench?”
“It’s time for a break.” He pounded the gavel. “We’ll recess for fifteen minutes. Both of you come to my chambers.”
Once inside the large office, with walls of books and even a telescope, Larson addressed her. “What is it, ADA Casella?”
“I have never seen a young witness so brow-beaten in my entire career.”
“You should have objected more!” Paul’s tone was curt. But he knew what he’d done and guilt was heavy in his heart.
“I objected all I could.”
“That’s true, Mr. Covington,” the judge said. “You went at a rapid pace.”
“I’m sorry if Ms. Casella couldn’t keep up, but I have a client to defend.”
“Don’t you feel at all bad about what you did to that boy?”
“Why should I? I did my job.”
“Still, Mr. Covington,” Judge Larson put in. “I expect better behavior from you the rest of the afternoon.”
Paul pretended not to care that he’d been scolded by the bench. But it stung. He was just doing his fucking job!
* * *
That night, around six, Hayley and Finn went to Washington Square Park to a local food-tasting festival. They strolled around in companionable silence. “Are you hungry?” she asked her brother.
“Yeah. Let’s try some of those spring rolls.” They headed to the Asian booth and Hayley purchased two of the rice-papers filled with mixed vegetables and meat. She handed Finn one and he took a bite. “Ouch…it needs to cool, so let’s sit.”
They slid onto a bench at a long picnic table filled with people of all ages and ethnic backgrounds. She looked down the row. “I love this mixture of cultures that come to these kinds of things.”
“Me, too.” He gave her a knowing glance. “Are you going to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“About court today and what it was like to argue against Paul again?”
“No.”
“Your feelings won’t stop, you know. If you talk to me about what’s going on, you might be able to find some way out of this.”
“Hell. Being near him, even in court, widened the hole that’s been in my stomach since Saturday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know what I have to do. I’ve been sad before. With every day that passes, I’ll be better.”
“Sadness like this is different. Loss like this is hard.”
“Maybe.” She eyed him carefully. “I had a date for lunch yesterday.”
“That should help. Tell me about it.”
“He’s a lawyer, and he was smug and self-absorbed. He talked about himself for the entire meal. Afterward, he had the gall to say he wanted to get to know me better.”
“The jerk.”
“I told him in essence to go to hell.”
“Good for you.”
Sighing, she took a tiny bite of the spring roll. “At least I handled him well.”
“Still thinking about Saturday?”
“I’m trying not to. That’s why I don’t want to talk about Paul. I can’t change my feelings overnight, so I need to put him out of my mind.”
“All right.”
“Now, when was your last date, buddy?”
“Hmm. I did hook up with Emma after her book signing. I wouldn’t exactly call it a date.”
“More of a booty call?”
“Not only that. I like her. She’s so smart, and talented. I can hardly keep up with her.”
“I doubt that. You’re the smartest man I know.”
“Why thank you, Sis. All those years of reading books, I guess.”
Hayley knew she shouldn’t ask. He got upset when she did. But damn it, he had talent. “Instead of writing them yourself.”
“Man, you haven’t asked about that since last year. A long time for you.”
“I’m sorry, but I read all the short stories you’ve written. You’ve got so much to offer the literary world.”
“I’m already offering the literary world a lot. As a matter of fact, the New York Times is printing an article in the Arts Section next Sunday designating the best independent bookstores in Manhattan. Guess who’s number one?”
“Fitzgerald’s? Talk about burying the lead.
You should have told me right away.”
“I never brag.”
“Telling me isn’t bragging.” He talked more about his work as they finished their spring rolls.
She asked, “Still hungry?”
“Yeah, I read that they have an Italian booth that has the best lasagna in town.”
“I’m in.” She hooked arms with him. “I’m enjoying myself, Finn.” As much as she was able. “Thanks for suggesting this.”
“You’re welcome. I’m enjoying myself, too.”
* * *
In a little bistro in Brooklyn, the lobster was firm and fluffy. The couscous was cooked to perfection and the green beans crisp. But Paul was bored to death by his companion.
“So, my little fourth grader said, ‘Ms. Cameron, I got a nice uncle you should meet’.”
He smiled perfunctorily. He had to try hard to focus on Sara Cameron. She was kind, honest and solicitous. She wore her hair very short, but the style was flattering on her. He’d met her at a party one of his golf buddies gave, and found her entertaining then. That was before he got involved with Hayley.
Well, maybe she wasn’t boring. She just wasn’t the one he wanted to be with.
Tuning back in because he owed her that, he heard her say, “I’m shocked you asked me out, Paul.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re still a hero in New York. You can probably date any woman you want.”
So, I’m any man.
And I’m just another woman.
“Paul?”
“I wanted to ask you out.”
“Really?” she said. “You seem completely bored. Which is okay, because I don’t think you’re my type anyway. But I’m a good listener. Want to tell me about her?”
“Her, who?”
“The woman you’re preoccupied with.”
A chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me.”
If she could be this honest, so would he. “I recently got out of a relationship, and it still stings.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But I can’t talk about her with you.”
It was then that reality slammed into him. The only person he had to talk to about Hayley was his first date with another woman? What did that say about him?
“I understand. But cheer up, will you? It’s time for dessert.”
Her jovial attitude indeed cheered him up. He was glad for it. And hoped Sara Cameron found a man worthy of her.
Paul was restless as he walked back to his condo after he saw Sara to her car. Unable to bear going inside to an empty house, he headed to the garage, and in twenty minutes, he arrived at Little Poland in Greenpoint. This time, though, he parked right in front of his parents’ home and studied it. The place so small he couldn’t believe that five children were raised there. And he remembered things: after the girls were born, the boys were relegated to sleeping in the attic. It was so cold in winter they could see their breath. Lying in bed, bats would be circling the ceiling, and he and his brothers used to shoot them with Beebe guns. A horrible story to the average listener, but Paul thought back on it fondly. Probably because of the camaraderie he’d felt then, and was missing now.
So, buoyed by the memory of his brothers, and determined to prove to himself that he wasn’t a coward, he got out of his car and crossed the street. His heart racing, he climbed the stairs to the porch that was crumbling the last time he saw it, but now sported new concrete and railings. Even though the windows were curtained, he could see lights on in the living room and kitchen. More frightened than he’d been when he tackled the gunman, he rang the bell, expecting Matka to answer. When no one came to the door, he knocked on it hard.
Finally, it opened.
His father stood before him.
Paul remembered Filip Covitz as a tall, sturdy man, with a head of dark hair like his own, quick to use his belt for punishment, but also taking his children onto his lap to tell them stories and dry their tears.
This man was shorter than Paul, thin and completely bald. But his blue eyes were the same as the last time Paul looked into them. Cold.
“Hi, Pa,” was all Paul could think of to say.
Pa stared at him.
“It’s me, Paul.”
“I know who you are.” His father gripped the door handle. “Go away. Esteście grzesznikami przeciwko swojej rodzinie.”
As the two oldest, Paul and Jakub were taught Polish in school. And he remembered most of it. Esteście grzesznikami przeciwko swojej rodzinie meant ‘You have sinned against your family.’”
Frozen, unable to speak, he watched his father step back and slam the door in his face. Stunned, Paul stayed frozen to the spot, then he turned and stumbled down the steps and over to his car, thinking he might vomit on the way.
Chapter 8
* * *
On Sunday morning, Hayley woke up dismayed. The birds were chirping outside her window and the sky was blue, but she couldn’t enjoy nature’s greeting. The reason had something to do with Paul. She didn’t know what, maybe just a dream, but her heart told her something was wrong in his life.
She got out of bed and tried to banish thoughts of him because she’d been looking forward to today. Carmella, her aunt, had called and asked to meet her for brunch at a local hotel in the city. That’s all she said, and Hayley didn’t question why. She readily agreed.
After coffee and reading a bit of the New York Times, she took her time dressing and left the house at ten. The Grand Hotel was within walking distance from her apartment. On the trip there, the August day was warm, not yet hot, and she was cheered up by the time she entered the hotel.
The entrance reminded her of the Central Park Ballroom. Inside there was wood instead of fabric, but its arching ceilings and chandeliers were similar to the hotel where Paul had tackled the gunman.
Carmella was already seated. Hayley hurried over. “Hello, Carmella.”
Her aunt stood. “Hayley. Thank you for meeting me.” They hugged warmly.
“Of course.” They took seats, and Hayley said, “I was thrilled to get your call.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your party in June at the lake.”
“The guys said you were visiting friends upstate.”
“Yes. I see…them every summer.” She rolled her eyes as if she’d said something stupid. “Actually, Hayley, I visit upstate New York for a reason. It’s also why I’m in town today. I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to share it, even with Finn. And especially with Seth and my other children.”
“I promise, Carmella.”
“Every summer, I spend a week on Canandaigua Lake with a man. Last June, we decided we wanted to see more of each other. He’s in the city for his consulting business, so I’m staying with him this weekend.”
Her jaw dropped. Carmella was lovely at sixty-six, well-dressed and wore modest makeup. Still, that she had a clandestine beau was surprising. “I-I’m so happy for you. But why the secrecy?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I used to only see him once a year and I felt that there was no reason to tell my kids. They’d make a fuss. But now that Judd and I are seeing each other more, I probably should.” She blew out a breath. “But I just don’t want them to interfere with our relationship with the ruse of trying to protect me.”
“For the record, I think you could manage that.”
“Judd said the same thing. Now, enough of us.”
“All right. But know I’m happy for you.” She sighed. “Since this is our first meeting after all that happened between our families, I want to say something else. I think my mother was horrible to you.”
“I’m afraid, dear, that you don’t know the half of it. She shattered my self-confidence for a long time. Tomaso almost cut off his relationship with your father Albert because of her.”
Reaching out, Hayley covered her aunt’s hand where it rested on the table. “I’m so sorry.”
“I worried terribly about you and Finn and Ronan.”
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“We made it through our childhood.”
“Yes, you’re a lovely young woman, inside and out. And you’ve been a good friend to Seth.”
“Thank you. Is my relationship with your son why you asked me to brunch?”
“That and to get to know you as an adult. I’d like to have a relationship with you, if you’re willing.”
“Of course, I am.”
“Will Bridget object?”
“I don’t see much of her. I won’t let her come between our family and yours again. Finn feels the same way.”
“I’m glad, dear. Very glad.”
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We’ve presented our case. Five witnesses told stories of lies and deception. Unaware of the intent of the Feinsteins, they submitted to surgeries that are still causing them an excessive amount of pain.” Hayley walked closer to the box, a tactic that meant the statements about to come would be more serious. They were attentive, especially the older man with gray hair and a young mother who had teenagers. “Five experts testified that the operations were unnecessary and the drugs issued afterward were excessive. The horrific thing about this is that there are probably more people the Feinsteins betrayed who didn’t come forward.” She raised her chin. “Yet.”
She let that hang a moment. Let them wonder what she was going to say.
“But that’s up to you. I’m not here to ask for damages or reimbursement. The lawyers of the plaintiffs will do that in lawsuits already filed. I’m asking for a verdict of guilty to malpractice and fraud for two people who—and this isn’t exaggeration—committed crimes against humanity.”
There was a rumble through the courtroom, as she held her head high and walked back to her seat.
When Paul got up, he buttoned the coat of his suit, and went to stand in front of the jury, too. Sick of the case, destroyed by what his father had done last night, he had to rise to the occasion. “ADA Casella would like you to believe the Drs. Feinsteins are monsters. But if you recall from our character witnesses, Dr. Debra Feinstein has a degree from Johns Hopkins, as does Dr. Barry Feinstein. He also taught there. They both worked in Doctors Without Borders, right after medical school. Now, I ask you, why would two reputable doctors with a track record of helping others, who have the capacity to earn large salaries, engage in the activities ADA Casella alleges? The simple answer? They wouldn’t.” He turned and crossed to the prosecution’s table. Stared directly at Hayley, who held her head high. “She would also have you believe they would intentionally hurt the people who testified.” He pivoted to the defense table and tried to appear like he didn’t loathe the defendants. Then he walked back to the jury, closer to the box. “Finally, those who came forward are sick people, people in pain searching for a complete cure, which has been impossible for them. Think about that.” He waited. “I rest my case.”