Greater Love

by Robert Whitlow

  I took a deep breath. “Would you let her plea as an adult and recommend something favorable to the judge?”

  “There’s no rush. Her case is way down the docket.”

  “If we didn’t wait, what would you be asking for?”

  Jan eyed me like a witness she was about to cross-examine.

  “Is there something she’s trying to hide? If there are charges pending against her in another jurisdiction, it would change everything.”

  “We all have plenty to hide, but I don’t know of any charges pending in another jurisdiction.”

  My answer was technically correct, but skirting so close to falsehood made me very uneasy.

  “Then why enter a plea?”

  I took a deep breath. “I believe it’s in Jessie’s best interest to get this incident behind her as soon as possible.”

  Jan relaxed. “I haven’t been working here very long, but it’s easy to forget that having a criminal charge pending is a huge stress to anyone. This isn’t a serious case, but to assume your client feels the same way is a mistake.”

  “Could she enter a first offender petition—”

  Jan interrupted me with a shake of her head. “That would require a felony plea. What if the charge was reduced to misdemeanor criminal damage to property? The maximum sentence is twelve months, but since your client doesn’t have a prior conviction, I’m sure the judge would go along with probation, a small fine, and restitution to the owner of the store for the damage to his property. If Whitewater has learned her lesson, I don’t want to make this incident harder on her than it has to be.”

  I was speechless.

  “Talk it over with her and let me know,” Jan continued. “If she agrees, we can schedule it as soon as you want to.”

  “Sounds great. I’m sure she’ll go along with it once I explain it to her. Do you think we should get the judge’s approval in advance?”

  “No. It would be better to slip it onto a busy calendar when he’s less inclined to give us a hard time. Sitting in Judge Cannon’s chambers without something else pressuring him to move on is an invitation for him to engage in his favorite pastime of tormenting young lawyers.”

  “Okay.”

  Jan stood and walked me out of the office.

  “It’s neat that you’ve taken a personal interest in your client,” she said. “I never would have guessed Julie Feldman might open her home to someone like Jessie.”

  “There’s a lot of good in Julie.”

  I told Jan about Julie’s father.

  “I hadn’t heard about that. I hope he recovers,” she replied. “If she needs a continuance on something, let me know.”

  “Thanks.” I paused. “One more thing. Do you know if there is anything coming up soon in the State v. Hackney case?”

  “That’s being handled by Brett Duffy. Why?”

  “Uh, I was in court when they argued the motion about Mr. Carpenter’s expert testing some tape recordings and wondered if there were any other motions pending.”

  “Nothing that I know about. If you want to find out more, call Brett or one of your friends at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter.”

  “Okay, thanks again for the offer on Jessie’s case. I’m sure we’ll be able to work it out.”

  I returned to the office elated. Maggie was there, and I excitedly told her about the plea bargain.

  “Take it as soon as you can before something happens to mess it up. And don’t get used to someone in the DA’s office wanting to reduce the charges beyond what you ask. Crittenden is being nice to make a good impression on Mrs. Fairmont.”

  “I don’t think so. She’s been this way since the first time we talked. At that point, Mrs. Fairmont wasn’t in the picture. I believe God is giving me supernatural favor.”

  Maggie shrugged. “If that’s the way God works, pray for my cases. Some of my clients need just as much mercy as your runaway girl.”

  I DROVE HOME WITH A LIGHTNESS IN MY HEART I HADN’T FELT since before Zach and I talked. Sacrificing my own desires and focusing on someone else had yielded rapid benefits I hadn’t expected. I thought helping Jessie would be like digging in rock-hard soil with a dull hoe. So far, it was more like slicing through butter that had been sitting on the kitchen counter for half an hour.

  I found Mrs. Fairmont sitting on the veranda with the ceiling fans stirring the air. Jessie was in the garden below playing a vigorous version of the chase, catch, and fetch game I occasionally played with the little dog. I could hear Flip barking from behind a row of large bushes in the corner of the courtyard that was one of his favorite hiding places. Jessie was on her hands and knees crawling in after him.

  “Flip feels like he’s at summer camp,” Mrs. Fairmont said when she saw me. “He’ll be so tired tonight that he’ll collapse in bed.”

  I sat down and listened to Mrs. Fairmont tell me about the day. As I listened, I realized Flip wasn’t the only one stimulated by Jessie’s presence in the house. Mrs. Fairmont seemed to take as much pleasure in interacting with Jessie as the girl took in playing with Flip.

  Jessie, hot and sweaty, bounded up the metal stairs from the courtyard to the veranda. She had a big smile on her face.

  “Hey,” I said when she plopped down in a chair. “Keep that smile on your face. I have some good news for you.”

  “What is it about?” Jessie asked, then turned to Mrs. Fairmont before I could answer. “I’m thirsty. Can I get you a glass of ice water?”

  “Yes, that would be nice. Bring a bowl of water for Flip, too.”

  “Good news?” Mrs. Fairmont asked when Jessie went inside.

  “About her case.” I paused. “Maybe I should talk to her about it in private.”

  “Of course. I’ll step inside. The late-afternoon sun is about to bake the veranda.”

  Jessie returned and put a bowl of water on the floor. The little dog began to lap vigorously.

  “Why did Mrs. Fairmont go inside?”

  “I need to talk to you about your case. Jan Crittenden, the assistant district attorney, has made an amazing plea offer.”

  Jessie listened without interrupting me while I outlined the deal and all its advantages.

  “Everything can be wrapped up within a week or so,” I said. “Then you’ll be assigned a probation officer.”

  “How much will I have to pay?”

  “A broken window can’t cost that much. The amount of the fine is up to the judge. The maximum under the statute is one thousand dollars, but that’s rarely given. Usually, it’s a lot less.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “You won’t pay it all at once, and you can start making payments after you get a job. The probation officer will work with you on a schedule to take care of the fine and restitution. I’ll talk with Maggie Smith at my office and get the name of a good probation officer who can be assigned to your case. Ms. Crittenden is really making this easy on you.”

  Jessie looked down and rubbed her hands together.

  “What about staying here or with Julie? Julie is nice, but I know she doesn’t want me to live with her very long. But here with Mrs. Fairmont is different.” Jessie motioned with her hands to encompass the house and began speaking more rapidly. “I can take better care of her than you because I’m here all day. If she falls down or faints or something bad happens, I can call 911. I met Gracie today, and she thinks it’s a good idea for me to stay here. I helped her clean the high windows in the blue parlor. Gracie doesn’t like to get on a ladder, but I’m not afraid of heights.”

  “All that can be discussed. But first, let’s take care of your case.”

  Jessie hesitated. “What happens if I don’t agree to do what the district attorney told you?”

  My mouth dropped open. “That wouldn’t make any sense.”

  “Tell me what will happen if I don’t agree,” Jessie persisted.

  “Uh, nothing for a while. Your case isn’t scheduled to come up for trial anytime soon. But why not take care of i
t so you don’t have it hanging over you? And with this deal you won’t have a felony conviction that will ruin your future. That’s huge.”

  “What if the police find out about the other places I broke into and the stuff I stole? Could I be charged with that and go back to jail?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Would that mean more of the felony convictions you’re so worried about?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jessie shrugged. “Not having a criminal record doesn’t matter if I’m sleeping in a vacant lot. You’re like all the other people who pretended they wanted to help me. They did it for a while until they got tired of all the other problems I have. You just want to get me out of your hair.”

  I took a deep breath to avoid getting angry. “Let’s talk about the only problem that exists right now, the charge of breaking into Bacon’s Bargains. If Mrs. Fairmont agrees to let you stay here for a few more weeks, would you accept the plea offer to take care of that case? The rest of it we’d have to face if it comes up.”

  Jessie thought for a moment. “I’m willing to pay for the broken window. But I don’t like the idea of a fine. And who would take me to see the probation officer?”

  “You could ride the bus or perhaps Sister Dabney could take you.”

  “A thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

  “It probably won’t be—” I stopped. “Okay, the big question is where you’re going to live, isn’t it? I’ll talk to Mrs. Fairmont and see what she thinks about you staying here. Then you can decide.”

  “I want to be there when you talk to her. It’s my life.”

  “No!” I said so forcibly that it made Jessie’s eyes open wide in surprise. “Mrs. Fairmont has to make her decision without being manipulated by you.”

  “When are you going to talk to her?”

  “After supper. You can go for a walk or a bike ride.”

  WE HAD A TENSE MEAL. JESSIE DIDN’T OPEN HER MOUTH EXCEPT to grunt. When she went to the kitchen for a few seconds, Mrs.

  Fairmont gave me a questioning look.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you had good news.”

  “I do, but Jessie doesn’t see it that way yet. We’ll talk later after she’s out of the house for a while.”

  When Jessie returned from the kitchen, Mrs. Fairmont started asking her questions about her time with Gracie. The tension began to leave the room. Jessie even smiled when telling how nervous Gracie got when Jessie insisted on standing on top of the short ladder without anything to steady her.

  “The next time she comes we’re going to wash the outside windows,” Jessie said. “She said you had a really tall ladder in the garage.”

  “It’s tall enough,” Mrs. Fairmont answered. “But I’m not sure I want you washing the windows on the second story. There’s a man I hire to do that once a year.”

  “Don’t hire him and pay me half what he charges you.”

  Mrs. Fairmont glanced at me and I shook my head slightly.

  “Right now, I don’t want us to have a business relationship. I’d rather consider you like a great-niece who’s come for a summer visit and helps around the house a little bit because it’s the polite thing to do.”

  “Tami says I need to make money.”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” I said. “Don’t worry about clearing the table. I’ll do it so Mrs. Fairmont and I can talk. You can take Flip out for a walk.”

  “He’s exhausted,” Mrs. Fairmont said, pointing to the little dog who was lying stretched out on his side beneath her chair. “He didn’t have the energy to beg during the meal, he’s played so hard.”

  “Okay. Go for a ride on the bike. If you take a right on Whittaker Street, it will lead you to Forsyth Park.”

  “There’s a water fountain on the east side where I used to get a drink when I was a little girl,” Mrs. Fairmont said. “You’ll recognize it because there’s a spigot low to the ground for people to get water for their animals.”

  “I want all of us to talk when I get back,” Jessie said.

  “We’ll see,” I replied, feeling like a parent dealing with a stubborn child.

  Jessie left the house via the veranda steps to the courtyard and through the side gate. I watched from a window in the foyer as she pedaled toward the nearby intersection of Hull and Whittaker Streets. When I returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Fairmont was rinsing the plates in the sink and loading them in the dishwasher.

  “Wait, I was going to clean up.”

  “I decided if I had the energy there was no reason for me to treat you like a servant.”

  “You’ve never treated me like a servant.”

  “In my mind I have. Jessie’s got me thinking about a lot of things.”

  Mrs. Fairmont and I sat at the table in the kitchen while I told her about the plea offer. I didn’t have Jessie’s permission to share details about her case with Mrs. Fairmont, but I pushed my reservations aside and laid it all out except the possibility of additional criminal charges in the future. The more I talked, the more troubled Mrs. Fairmont looked.

  “As you can see, the big issue is that Jessie wants to stay here with you,” I said. “She’s right that Julie’s apartment isn’t a long-term solution. But I don’t want you to commit to something after only spending a couple of days with her. Jessie has a stubborn streak that’s going to come out at some point in her relationship with you.”

  Mrs. Fairmont put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes.

  “Christine, I don’t feel well.”

  “I’m Tami,” I replied, then reached out as the elderly woman put her hands on the arms of the chair and tried to push herself up.

  “Help me get to the bathroom,” she said.

  I steadied Mrs. Fairmont as she shuffled to the downstairs bathroom where she got sick. As the waves of nausea hit her, waves of compassion hit me. I hated sickness, especially when it afflicted someone I loved. I held Mrs. Fairmont’s hand and kept her steady as she emptied her stomach. I wiped her forehead with a cool washcloth.

  “Is your head hurting?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “And my arm.”

  She touched her left arm. Mrs. Fairmont’s mental problems were related to ministrokes, but with the mention of pain down her arm, I suddenly became concerned she might be having a heart attack.

  “I should call an ambulance.”

  “No, I don’t want to go to the hospital. I want to lie down in the den.”

  “Does your chest hurt?”

  “It’s my stomach.”

  I held her up as the nausea returned.

  “That’s it,” she said when she finished. “There’s nothing left. I want to rest now.”

  I gently wiped her face and led her to the den where I spread out an afghan and positioned a pillow under her head. Flip jumped up and curled up at her feet.

  “Please, let me call an ambulance,” I said.

  “No.” She shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. “I want to lie here quietly in my own house.”

  I left Mrs. Fairmont, went into the kitchen, and called Mrs. Bartlett.

  18

  JESSIE PEDALED FURIOUSLY DOWN WHITTAKER STREET, NOT SLOWing at four stop signs until a sanitation truck crossing West Jones Street made her put on the brakes and skid to a halt. She wiped away the beads of sweat that had popped up on her brow. She wanted to get to Forsyth Park as soon as possible, drink from the water fountain so she could tell Mrs. Fairmont she’d tried it, and return to the house so she could plead her case in person. Jessie wasn’t about to trust her future to Tami’s conversation with Mrs. Fairmont.

  The past two days had been like happy pages cut from the best book Jessie ever read. Twice during the afternoon, she went downstairs, touched the beautiful bedspread, and smelled the clean sheets. When Mrs. Fairmont napped in the den, Jessie explored the house, admiring the beautiful things that surrounded her. There were no antiques in her stepmother’s trailer, only broken secondhand items barely able to serve their intended pu
rpose.

  Jessie had been nervous when Gracie arrived, but the older black woman greeted her with a big, soft hug. She then included Jessie in a workday that was more fun than labor. Gracie didn’t tell Jessie that she thought it was a good idea for Jessie to live at the house, but she was sure Gracie would have said so if asked.

  Jessie crossed Gordon Street and saw the corner of Forsyth Park. The green space was a lot bigger than she’d suspected, and it took her about ten minutes to find the water fountain. She got off the bike to get a drink then splashed water on her face to cool off. After she wiped the water from her eyes, she turned around and bumped into a man standing behind her.

  “Did you know your bike has a flat tire?” the man asked.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Jessie looked past him at the bike, which had a totally flat rear tire. She went over and felt the collapsed rubber.

  “Do you have far to go?” the man asked.

  Jessie looked at the man for the first time. He was probably in his fifties with gray hair and a closely cut goatee. He was wearing blue jeans, a T-shirt, and dark sunglasses.

  “Not too far,” she replied. “I live on Hull Street.”

  “That’s at least ten blocks, a long way to push a bike,” the man replied. “My wife and I live on East Perry, just around the corner from Hull. I’d be happy to give you a lift. You could throw your bike in the back of my pickup, and I could drop you off.”

  Jessie looked down and saw the wedding band on the man’s hand.

  “That’s my truck parked on the street.” The man motioned with his left hand. There was a shiny blue pickup truck with heavily tinted windows next to the curb. A woman was behind the wheel. When she saw Jessie looking in her direction, she waved.

  “That’s my lady,” the man said. “We come to the park to walk our dog every evening after we get off work.”

  “What kind of dog do you have?” Jessie asked.

  “A Chihuahua.”

  “My grandmother has a Chihuahua,” Jessie said, brightening up. “His name is Flip.”

  “We call our dog Peaches. Come over and meet her. But I’ve got to warn you. She’ll try to lick your nose off if she gets a chance.”