by Jenna Brooks
“I’m just enjoying the morning.” She drew her legs up, folding her arms across her knees.
They were quiet again for a minute, then Max said, “Let’s go to Marcia’s for some of those pancakes.”
“Please. I’m starving,” Sam said, pulling her wrap tighter around her shoulders. “And freezing.”
Jo felt guilty, being in such a black mood when the idea was to enjoy some down time, and she forced as genuine a smile as she could manage. “Now that’s living. Let’s go get ready.”
She managed to be in good spirits at the diner, joking around with the waitress, and even getting a chuckle out of Gabe when she playfully called him “Lurch.” “I’ll comp the coffees for that one,” he laughed.
After breakfast, they stopped at Lettie’s to get the fresh strawberries that Tina had mentioned, enjoying watching Samantha fall in love with small-town New Hampshire. On their way back to the house, they stopped at a makeshift flower vendor who was selling roses from the back of his old pickup truck. When he found out that Sam was engaged, he wrapped an extra dozen of the pink tea roses, placing them in her arms as if she were Miss America. “All the best to you, my dear,” the old man said, and Sam kissed him on the cheek.
“It’s like going back in time,” she said as they pulled up to the house. “Hey, remember when we were talking about that, back at Barley’s?” She grew pensive then. “Maybe you can go back, huh?”
“Maybe,” Max answered. Daisy trotted down the driveway to greet them, and she pulled a dog biscuit from her pocket.
“You’re kidding, right? You carry those in your pocket now? C’mere, baby.” Jo slapped her thigh, and Daisy sauntered over with the treat in her mouth, her eyes asking if she could have it. Jo bent to kiss her. “Yes, enjoy.” The dog wagged her tail, then walked sedately to the house, waiting for them to open the door.
“I’m going to talk Dave into buying a camp up here. I want our kids to have this.”
“Have you thought more about getting married right away?”
“We’ve been discussing it.” Her phone rang as she got out of the car. “Hey, speaking of tall, dark, and…”
“Just answer it, Bim.” Jo handed Max a couple of the bags from Lettie’s, and they walked ahead to give her some privacy.
A few minutes later, Sam appeared in the kitchen. “Dave left the office early. He has a lunch meeting, and then he’ll swing by the house to get Tyler. They’ll be here by five.” She grabbed the milk from the counter, pouring a glass for herself before she put it in the refrigerator. Bending to check her reflection in the stainless steel toaster on the counter, she asked, “How do I look?”
Max said, “Gorgeous,” at the same time that Jo answered, “Tired.”
Sam rolled her eyes at them.
“You look like a tired gorgeous person,” Max quipped.
“Hey, Dave wanted me to ask you guys if he can steal me away for a quiet dinner, just the two of us–will you watch Ty?”
“Sure.”
“Not me,” Max said.
Jo sighed at her, annoyed.
“Just kidding, okay?”
“This is romance, Bim. In case you’ve forgotten what that is, we approve.” Jo handed Sam a vase for the roses.
“Ow.” She grinned, grabbing the cooler from the pantry. “It’s turning nice outside. I’m throwing a six pack in here, and spending what’s left of my freedom today out by the lake.”
“Be out in a few.” She watched Sam pulling glassware from the cabinet. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting out three glasses. We have two dozen roses, and I’m putting some in each of our bedrooms.” She set the tumblers on the counter. “I’m giving you all of the tea roses. I know they’re your favorite. After daisies.”
She scrunched her face up. “I never told you that.”
“I overheard you telling someone at the restaurant a few months ago. You said your mom used to put them in your room every summer.” She smiled shyly. “You’re doing so much for everyone, Jo. I just want to find whatever little ways I can to let you know…I really appreciate it. I wonder…” She stopped then, unsure.
“What?”
“I just…I wonder if you think sometimes that people don’t ‘see’ you, you know?” She paused again, taking in Jo’s sudden closed expression. “Look, I want to be honest, but I can tell you’re going through some stuff right now, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“It’s okay. Go ahead.”
“It’s just that…” She took a deep breath. “I love you, and I’m worried about you. So’s Max.”
“I know.”
“Are you okay?”
She smiled, touching Sam’s cheek. “I’ll be fine. It’s been a lot of years for me, never any time to reflect, to regroup. I’m doing that here. But it’s something of a process, know what I mean?”
Sam nodded, watching her closely and not believing her. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Will you talk if you need to? To me, or Max, or someone?”
“Promise. Thanks for the roses.”
“I’ll put them in our rooms and be out to join you guys.”
She watched Jo go down the steps from the deck, feeling that she had failed her–and discouraged that her friend had just looked straight into her eyes, and lied.
Jack and Steve Patch shook hands as they parted outside the courthouse. Just as the lawyer had promised, all that was needed was for Jack to pay some court costs, and stay clean for a year.
“Thanks, Steve.”
“My pleasure. Hey, you called Mickey Demares?”
“Yeah. I’m actually able to get in to see him later today. His office called me last night, said he had a cancellation.”
“That was quick. You’re lucky.”
“Well, your reference got me in, I’m sure.” Jack was getting weary of stroking legal egos; at that moment, he really wanted to go meet Wendy, the bartender from Roy’s Gentleman’s Lounge, for lunch–and then some much-needed attention.
“Good luck, Jack. Call if you need anything.”
He sighed in aggravated relief as Steven Patch drove away. The clock on the bank next door told him he had nearly an hour before he would meet Wendy. He went around the corner to one of the small cafes on Elm Street, looking forward to a good cup of coffee, and to making another anonymous call to Josie Kane.
Will wasn’t being at all reassuring, Dave thought, as he sat listening to what the future might hold for Samantha and the baby, if Jack were to find out about the pregnancy.
He absentmindedly held his water glass out for the waitress to refill, taking in every word, growing more discouraged by the minute. “You need to bottom-line me, Will. Your best advice.”
“Take it to your grave.”
“So Samantha’s right.”
“She is. Look, Dave, the FC is not the place you want this to end up. The best you’ll get there is a fifty-fifty custody split.”
Dave already knew the answer, but he needed to ask him anyway. “Car-boy has O.P.’s on him from two different women for making death threats. He’s gotten physical with Samantha. He’s terrorized Tyler…” He drew in a shaky breath. “He’s been charged with assaulting a police officer. Will, doesn’t any of that…”
He was shaking his head regretfully. “No. He’s someone’s daddy now. The way the court is these days, that puts him right up there with the Apostle Paul, no matter what else he’s done.” He pulled the linen napkin from his lap, tossing it on the table, disgusted. “Remember the Tanneman case? The guy broke both of his girlfriend’s arms, kidnapped the kid, and he still has visitation to this day–and she has to take the kid to see him.”
Dave drummed his fingers on the side of his glass, deep in thought. “You agree that I should marry her now?”
“Yeah. Definitely. It answers more questions for you than it creates for them. And the court assumes paternity for the husband, so then Car-boy will have to prove otherwise.”
He
nodded. He had some difficulty speaking his next thought. “So, he finds out, makes an issue of it,” he took a sip of water, “and then…”
“We go to war.”
Dave met his eyes squarely, leaning forward for Will’s answer. “Can we win?”
Will wanted to say yes, but Dave was his best friend. “No. The best we’ll do is put off the inevitable. And if Sammy winds up in front of one of those father’s rights judges, he won’t look kindly on her for deceiving Jack and then dragging it out–she could even lose custody.”
Dave’s eyes shifted slightly as the answer hit him hard. “Okay, where would you set up domicile?”
“Doesn’t make much of a difference. Nine out of ten judges in Mass are father’s rights stooges. Your odds are slightly better north of the border–hell, Massachusetts is the cradle of this stuff, after all–but they aren’t appreciably more favorable in New Hampshire, either. The movement started infiltrating the system up there oh, probably ten years ago.”
“We keep her where she is for now, hope he goes away, and get our stories aligned.”
Will nodded. “Sorry, man. Wish I had better news.”
“I knew you chose a difficult field, but I have to tell you…”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it usually sucks. It almost always does, because…” He leaned back, looking at the ceiling as he searched for the words. When he returned to Dave, he spoke in terms that a criminal defense attorney could easily grasp. “Let this be your barometer: when Sammy got pregnant, she lost some of her constitutional rights. Especially equal protection. She lost them to the ‘best interests of the child’ standard–which, at this point, has become a new weapon against mothers.”
Dave was determined to remain confident, but from what he already knew–and from what Will had just explained–the reality of it was terrifying. But that was what he counted on from his friend: the truth. He gave him a weak grin. “I should be meeting with you more often. I wasn’t up to speed on most of this.”
“Yeah, you windmill-tilters,” he joked. “The guys like me, plodding through the muck of Kiddie Court–we don’t have the bling of you highbrow criminal-defense types.” He signaled for the check. “And I hate to bring this up now, but with you taking time off lately…”
“Yeah, I know. Our billables are down.”
“We need to hire another associate.”
“We needed to do that soon anyway. You take it. I’ll come in for the final interviews, and then sign off on whoever you think is best.”
“You got it.”
“Will…” Dave snatched the tab from the plate the server placed between them. “Thanks.”
“Whatever you need, Dave. Just let me know.”
“I will.” He waived the waitress over, handing her the check. “What I really need is for Car-boy to go away forever.”
Jack didn’t like Q. Michael Demares from the moment he opened his mouth.
“Mr. Seever, hello. I’m Mickey De-mares.”
The guy sounded like he more announced himself than introduced himself. He clasped Jack’s hand in both of his, not really shaking, just holding on to it.
“Call me Jack, please.” He took in the heavy aftershave, the perfectly lacquered hair, and wondered how much the guy spent on tooth whiteners. He looked entirely artificial.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to one of the overstuffed armchairs that flanked his desk. “I hear you may have an issue coming up with your wife.”
“This is going to be complicated from the start. She’s not my wife–we just told people we were married.”
Jack found himself admiring the fact that Demares showed no reaction at all. He pulled a legal pad from his desk, and began to take notes. “How long have you known her?”
“Four years.”
“And how long have you two been together?”
“About three.”
“Okay. Start at the beginning.”
He found it interesting, that he felt so little emotion about his own relationship with Sam: it took less than five minutes for Jack to run through the details. When he started talking about Dave, though, there seemed to be much more to say.
“Where does he live?” Demares asked.
“Boston. He’s some big-shot lawyer down there.”
“What’s his name?”
“David Delaney.”
Demares seemed fleetingly impressed. “Delaney-Remmond…? I know of them.” He snorted, and Jack thought it was a peculiar sound from someone so obviously vain. “Small firm. Remmond is one of those attorneys who thinks mothers can do no wrong. One of my associates butted heads with him a couple of years ago–the guy’s a complete ass.” He pushed the notepad aside, leaning his elbows on his desk. “Okay, tell me what you want.”
Jack thought about how to phrase it. “I want my child in my life.”
“Of course you do.”
“Samantha’s not a stable woman. Not at all. She goes from Dave, where she has one kid, to me, and has another–but she won’t marry, won’t give the son she has a stable home, and I worry that she’ll do me like she has Dave. Now, she’s disappeared–carrying my child–after quitting a perfectly good job.”
“Who’s supporting her?”
“She’s someplace with her friends, Maxine and Jo, so I’m assuming they are.”
“Yeah, women like your girlfriend tend to like being taken care of. Where’s the kid she has with Delaney?”
“Not sure. He’s been with his dad off and on for a while now.”
“You’re sure the baby is yours?”
“Yes.”
His expression was a mixture of sympathy and cynicism. “Well, we’ll be checking anyway. Here’s the million-dollar question: is there a chance she’d abort?”
“No. She’s against abortion.”
He snorted again. “You’d be shocked at how many of these pro-life babes suddenly change their minds when they get backed into a corner. I’ve seen it many times.” He pointed his pen at Jack. “By the way, because of that, we need to tread softly for a while here. How far along is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“I found out for myself that she’s pregnant.”
Demares frowned. “How did that happen?”
Jack told him the truth about breaking into Jo’s apartment and finding the pregnancy test. “I had to try to find her, Mickey. I know it was wrong, but this woman–Jo–she worked at a domestic violence place. She’s one of those types who thinks all women are abused…”
He waved him off. “I know the type. They’re all about helping these poor, helpless women ‘escape.’ And they take every opportunity to push abortions. Seriously, Jack, they’re just irretrievably misguided. If they weren’t so evil, and so dangerous, they’d be pathetic.” He leaned closer, his tone conspiratorial. “You need to understand, people like this ‘Jo’ are more than capable of luring gullible women to the abortionist’s table, so be careful.”
“I understand.”
He sighed. “Okay, Samantha–is she violent?”
“Yeah, she’s got a temper.”
“But is she violent? Has she battered you?”
He sighed and looked down. “That’s hard for a man to admit to, Mickey.”
“I know. But you need to.” He pulled a business card from the same drawer that held the pad. “This is a support group for abused men. I want you to start going once a week.”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t need that stuff…”
“Whether or not that’s true, we need to set the stage if we’re going to get you custody of your child.”
“Custody?” He crossed and uncrossed his legs, shifting in his chair. “Like, full custody?”
“That’s what we’ll go for, initially. The whole thing. Once we get her attention, we’ll allow her some kind of supervised visitation.”
That would kill her. “I hadn’t thought about full custody. But you’re right, it would be safer for the
child.”
“Well, of course. No question, she’s unstable–I’d guess bipolar, from what you describe.” He scribbled a note on the legal pad, to request that Sam be ordered into an psychological evaluation. He wrote Custody -Tyler? beside it in parentheses. “I have a couple of psychologists and an excellent guardian ad litem that I work with on a regular basis, getting these women evaluated. And if she’s violent, then she’s going to get treatment before she’s alone with your kid. By the way, if you have full custody, we’ll put it to her good on the child support.”
“She pays me?”
“Absolutely.”
Jack was loving it more and more. “What do I do from here?”
He tapped the pen on his blotter. “Like I said, we have to be careful. We don’t want to spook her, you know, help her feminist buddy get her to the abortion clinic.”
“Agreed.”
“She has family around here?”
“Her mother lives in Bedford. That’s it.”
“Friend or foe?”
“I’m managing to keep her on my team. It’s not easy. Samantha got her insanity from her mother.”
He laughed–too loudly, Jack thought, for such a small quip. “I hear you, Jack. Okay, for now, we’ll lay low. If she doesn’t surface soon, we’ll start by tracking her down with one of the investigators I use here, and then writing her a very carefully worded letter.” He gestured again with his pen. “You’ll be the good guy here. You’ll do everything you can to keep it away from an all-out custody battle. Right?” He raised his eyebrows, indicating that Jack needed to agree.
Jack nodded dutifully.
“No doubt she’ll go for free legal advice from Remmond, and if he has any brains at all,” he chuckled sarcastically, “he’ll tell her that she’d better be nice. The system is far more equitable at this point in time, Jack. If you had to be unlucky enough to hook up with this type of girl, at least you’re in a place where she’ll get not a single break from the courts just for being someone’s mother.” He stood, offering his hand. “But the longer we can wait, the better. After the baby is born is best.”
Jack clasped his hand. “I feel much better, Mike. Appreciate it.”
“If you decide you’d like to get a P.I. on this sooner rather than later, just give me a call and we’ll find her. But again, think hard about playing dumb until after the baby comes.”