Greater Love

by Robert Whitlow

  As I asked the question, I was surprised by a sudden surge of compassion for the two women that welled up with irresistible force in my heart. And in that moment I knew my decision wasn’t based on salary or benefits or security or firm prestige or whether I’d be asked to work on a case I didn’t believe in. The Lord loves people, and he wanted me to work with Maggie and Julie because he loved them. My main job wasn’t to be a lawyer, but to be a human expression of God’s love they could see on a daily basis. I laughed out loud. The two greatest commandments truly are to love God and to love others.

  Then the thought of Zach squelched my joy.

  I prayed and waited for my heart to respond in a way that would help me know what to think and how to feel. Nothing came. I waited some more without a response. Finally, I closed my Bible with a prayer that God would show me at the right time where and how Zach fit into the future. That night I called home again.

  “I agree,” Mama replied after I nervously explained what I thought. “The situation with the two women has the mark of the Lord’s destiny upon it. I’m not sure what that means, but you’ll have opportunities there that won’t exist if you work for the other firm. God put us here to touch other people’s lives, and I’m thankful you’ve seen how that applies to this situation.”

  “Daddy, do you agree?” I asked.

  “I won’t disagree,” he said slowly. “I’m less confident than you and your mama about this, but I don’t have a reason from the Lord to tell you to go in another direction. I know you’re in a tight spot and have to make a decision.”

  “It’s going to be tough talking to Zach and Mr. Carpenter,” I said. “I dread both, maybe Zach more.” I paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that he invited me to fly out to California with him over Christmas break to meet his parents. It may help if I can tell him you’ve given me permission to go. He needs to get the tickets as soon as possible.”

  “Just a minute,” Mama said.

  I could hear muffled conversation as one of them placed a hand over the receiver.

  “You can pray about it and let me know later,” I said.

  “That’s not necessary,” Mama replied. “We believe it’s too soon for that step. A trip to California at this point would put too much pressure on the emotional and physical parts of the relationship before there’s a spiritual foundation to support it.”

  “But I’m going to hurt Zach’s feelings when I turn down the job. I don’t want to discourage him or drive him away.”

  “If you tell him why you’ve changed your mind, do you believe that will happen?” Mama asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We knew this request was coming and already discussed it. We like Zach, but we want to help you guard your heart so things between you can progress at God’s pace.”

  Guarding my heart was a phrase I knew well. It was a linchpin of all I’d been taught.

  “His ideas and beliefs are different from yours,” Mama continued, “and it’s going to take time to find out if those differences can be compatible or not.”

  Mama was right, and it stung. I thought for a second.

  “Daddy, are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still think it’s okay for me to be excited about Zach?”

  “Yes, but I also agree with your mama. And if Zach is the kind of man I think he is, he’ll understand.”

  When I hung up the phone, I hoped that Daddy, too, was right.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY WHEN I RETURNED FROM CLASS, I KNEW I had three phone calls to make. I quickly decided Zach wouldn’t be first. He was going to get an extra dose of bad news—about the job and the trip to California. I debated whether to call Maggie Smith and accept the job or contact Mr. Carpenter first and tell him I’d made a mistake. It made sense to call Maggie and make sure there hadn’t been a last-minute change in plans after she and Julie met with me in Savannah. Calling Maggie first would avoid one disaster scenario. If I backed out of the job at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter and then found out there was no longer a job available with Maggie and Julie, I would look like a double idiot. I took a deep breath and dialed Maggie’s number at her new office. An unfamiliar voice answered.

  “Smith Law Offices.”

  “Is this Shannon?” I asked.

  “Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

  “Tami Taylor. I’d like to speak to Maggie.”

  “Just a minute.”

  While I was on hold, I wondered what, if anything, Shannon had been told about me.

  “Congratulations,” Maggie said as soon as she came on the line.

  “What?”

  “I heard late yesterday afternoon that you’d accepted the job with Joe Carpenter. I have to admit that if I’d been in your shoes I’d have done the same thing. Most people coming out of law school would jump at the chance to join a firm like Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. Opportunities to work with a small firm like ours are ten times easier to land than a position at a prestigious, established firm. Not only will you make more money, you’ll receive the best training available. There’s no way to put a price tag on that. Maybe five or six years down the road it will make sense for us to join forces. By that point, you’ll have clients of your own you can bring along with you. And just because you’re working someplace else doesn’t mean we can’t—”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I cut in. “I’m interested in accepting your job offer.”

  “You what?”

  “I want to discuss working with you and Julie after I graduate and pass the bar exam.”

  “Did I get wrong information? I heard it from a paralegal I know very well. She received a memo about it.”

  I winced that the news had already been broadcast so widely.

  “No, I met with Mr. Carpenter on Saturday and accepted the offer, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Not yet. I thought I should call you first and make sure you still want me.”

  “This is a shock,” Maggie said. “But Julie warned me that you were unpredictable.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t agree with everything Julie told you about me, but if by unpredictable she meant I don’t always follow the path in life most people take, she would be right. Is the offer with your firm still open?”

  “Yeah, sure. But I’d like to know why you changed your mind.”

  “I believe God wants the three of us to work together.”

  “Okay, but I have no idea what that means.”

  “I believe working with you and Julie will give me a better chance to make the practice of law a ministry, not just a business.”

  Maggie didn’t immediately answer. “If you want to preach to your clients, I won’t stop you. However, if you want to talk to my clients about God, you’ll need to clear it with me first.”

  “That’s fine, but there’s more to it than that. I hope to get involved in cases that God wants me to handle.”

  Maggie coughed and muffled the receiver. “That’s something I’ve never considered, but you’ll discover that the people in almost every case are a mix of good and bad. Bring in your fair share of business, and you won’t find me limiting the type of work you do.”

  “What if I don’t want to work on a particular case for moral reasons?” I persisted.

  “If it involves an ethical violation, I wouldn’t want either of us to continue—”

  I wasn’t going to repeat my mistake with Mr. Carpenter.

  “No, I mean a violation of my personal code of conduct.”

  “We’d have to discuss that on a case-by-case basis. I wouldn’t be interested in making you work on a case just because I’m your boss. The negatives of that management style outweigh the positives.”

  It was a fair, acceptable answer. I liked Maggie Smith. Unlike Julie, she treated me with respect and seemed willing to discuss things important to me without resorting to sarcasm.

  “Okay, if you promise to give me a right to explain m
y position.”

  “Of course. That’s one of the strengths of a law firm. Lawyers in a group can discuss whether to accept a case, then debate the best course of action to help the client. That keeps everyone out of trouble. Personally, I’ve not found the practice of law to be a moral minefield. People come to attorneys because they have legal problems and need help solving them. I spend more time worrying about giving the right advice than looking in the mirror at myself.”

  “Put the mirror in my office.”

  Maggie laughed. “And everyone will think you’re vain. Hey, now that I’m over my shock, I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. I’ll send you an employment contract based on the terms in the e-mail. Look it over and get back to me. Are you going to call Julie?”

  I hesitated. “Do you want me to?”

  “No, I’d like the pleasure of telling her she’s wrong. She bet me a dinner at a seafood place on the river that you would accept the job at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. My only regret is that she won’t get a chance to think she won before I tell her she didn’t.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at the direct number for Mr. Carpenter’s office. Now there was no reason to put off breaking the news of my decision to the senior litigation partner. I dialed his number.

  7

  JESSIE HID BEHIND A LARGE LIVE OAK TREE UNTIL THE LIGHTS OF the pickup truck slowly disappeared down the street. She went into the women’s restroom inside the bus station. Placing the leather pouch on a metal ledge above the sink, she cleaned up as best she could. The warm, soapy water felt good on her face, arms, feet, and ankles. She scrubbed her closely cropped brown hair and then put some soap suds on her finger and rubbed it across her teeth before spitting out the bittertasting foam. By the time she finished, Jessie was standing in a spreading puddle of water. It took eight cycles of the blow-dryer to dry her hair and body. Partway through the process a woman came into the restroom and washed her hands in a sink as far from Jessie as possible. When Jessie finished, her clothes were still grimy, but the visible portions of her skin were clean. She returned the pouch to her jeans.

  Jessie spent the night in the bus station. It wasn’t a long-term solution for a place to stay, but for a single night she felt confident she could pass herself off as a teenager waiting to catch a bus or a person hanging around until someone she knew arrived. She didn’t stay in the same seat but moved from place to place to avoid being labeled as a vagrant. Several times she got up from her seat when a bus pulled into the station and stood on the curb as if expecting a family member or friend to get off. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.

  Around midnight she dozed off. When she awoke a couple of hours later, Jessie walked around for a few minutes carrying a half-full cup of coffee she’d found beneath an empty seat. Twenty-four hours earlier she would have thankfully savored every drop of the coffee. Now, she had the luxury of a water fountain with an inexhaustible supply of fresh water, and the coffee cup merely became a prop in her show. Another bus arrived. After everyone got off, Jessie caught a few more hours of sleep. When the sun rose, she was still tired, but not being cold or afraid counted for a lot. An early morning bus from Brunswick pulled into the station, and Jessie left the building with a small group of passengers who’d been on board.

  It was a beautiful morning, clear with a cool crispness in the air. Jessie glanced down the street to make sure the men in the pickup weren’t coming by the bus station area to look for her on their way to another day’s work. There was no sign of the truck. Jessie was hungry. The trash cans on each street corner probably contained food, but she hoped for something better. Wandering toward the river, she came to a bakery shop with a display of free samples on the counter. Rich fragrances drifted out to the sidewalk. No one was behind the cash register. Jessie slipped through the door and in a flash grabbed two indiscriminate handfuls of food from the plate. When she turned the doorknob she dropped precious crumbs in her haste to get away. Running a few feet down the sidewalk, she ducked into an alley and immediately stuffed a combination of vanilla-cream pastry, pumpkin bread, and blueberry muffin into her mouth. It was an odd combination but tasted heavenly. After the first bite, she slowed down and enjoyed each morsel. The sugar in the pastries sent energy coursing through her body.

  When she finished, Jessie darted out of the alley and ran all the way to the river. She stopped not far from the old Cotton Exchange where she sat on a bench and enjoyed the early morning sun as it welcomed her to her first day on her own in Savannah.

  Finding a pen that contained three different colors of ink on the ground, Jessie took out the sheet of paper with the gibberish on it from the pouch and, on the clean side, designed an intricate tattoo. When she finished she laid the piece of paper across her right thigh.

  It fit perfectly.

  I DIDN’T IMMEDIATELY CALL MR. CARPENTER. AFTER TALKING TO Maggie, I took a thirty-minute break to pray, compose myself, and tweak the notes I’d prepared for the conversation.

  The direct line to Mr. Carpenter’s office rang to his secretary, an aloof woman with considerable clerical skill. To her, summer clerks were a nuisance barely tolerated. I recognized her slightly nasal voice.

  “This is Tami Taylor. May I speak to Mr. Carpenter?”

  “Hi, Tami, how is school going?” the woman asked with a friendliness that caught me off guard. “We look forward to seeing you after graduation.”

  “Uh, thanks. Is Mr. Carpenter available?”

  “Let me check.”

  While I waited on hold, I reviewed my notes. My plan was to be as precise as possible. I’d communicate my appreciation for the job offer, tell Mr. Carpenter I’d made a mistake accepting it, apologize, and ask for his forgiveness. If Mr. Carpenter asked any follow-up questions, I’d simply reiterate that I’d given the offer a lot of serious consideration and prayer. I was halfway through the review of my notes when Mr. Carpenter’s smooth Southern drawl, which oozed aristocratic education, came onto the line.

  “Tami, your name was mentioned in conversation yesterday. You remember Jason Paulding, the developer who sued that crazy woman preacher?”

  “Yes, sir. I wanted to call and—”

  “Did Zach tell you what happened to him?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Yesterday the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Atlanta granted Paulding immunity from prosecution in return for his cooperation and testimony in a sting operation originating in Miami. We weren’t handling the criminal matter, but the lawyer I referred him to called me to let me know what happened. It all started with the money trail you uncovered when you were working on the civil case.”

  “I didn’t really uncover—”

  “Who would have imagined that Paulding would end up helping the government prosecute Venezuelans illegally hiding oil profits in the U.S.? Your instincts about him were right on. You suspected all along more was going on than what he told us. That’s an ability that can’t be taught and usually comes with more life experience than you have. I credit your upbringing with giving you a much better than average ability to judge people. But enough about old business. Have you been in touch with Gerry Patrick to work out the details for your start date? I sent her a memo that you’d accepted our offer.”

  “She’s not contacted me, but the reason I called today was to turn down the job.” I glanced in frustration at my notes. I was totally off script. “It’s, uh, not that I don’t appreciate the confidence you showed in offering me a position, but I’ve prayed about it, and I shouldn’t have told you that I wanted to come work for the firm. It’s my mistake, and I owe you an apology. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  There was a brief pause.

  “I must say this is a shock to me,” Mr. Carpenter replied in a carefully measured tone of voice. “I saw nothing but a bright future for you here at the firm. The partners and I discussed at our lunch meeting today the need to allow you appropriate leeway to accommodate your religious sensibilities.”

&nb
sp; “You did?” It was my turn to be shocked. “All we talked about on Saturday was legal ethics.”

  “I could tell it was a concern to you. And I also had the benefit of a helpful conversation with Oscar Callahan on Monday. He gave me good advice. Does he know about this?”

  “No, sir.”

  “He’ll be disappointed. Is this your final decision?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Best of luck to you.”

  I slowly hung up the phone. The relief I’d expected to feel at delivering the news to Mr. Carpenter seemed as far away as the hills of Powell Station. I glanced at the clock. I had a lot of studying to do before the next day’s classes. Talking to Zach Mays could wait another day.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I WENT BACK TO MY APARTMENT after my first class to call Zach. I recognized the voice of the receptionist, a middle-aged woman who could give better directions than a GPS to anyplace in Savannah. She put me on hold for a couple of seconds.

  “This is Zach Mays. Thanks so much for calling.”

  “Zach? It’s Tami.”

  “Uh-oh, I picked up the wrong line. Let me put you on hold while I take care of something important.”

  Before I could speak, I was listening to the music on the firm’s phone system. It was a loop of light classical designed to soothe the frayed nerves of anxious clients. It didn’t work for me. My nerves were fraying more by the second. Fifteen minutes passed. Normally, I would have hung up and called back, but I waited five more minutes. That passed, and I extended it five more.

  “Are you still there?” Zach asked.

  “Should I have hung up?”

  “Probably. I had to take a call from a solicitor in London who’s working with us on a contract for a British shipping company. The exchange rate is fluctuating so much it’s difficult to set a schedule that isn’t messed up by changes in currency valuations. We had to figure out the precise language for a provision that allows for the ups and downs in a way that should work over the long term.”