I sat back without replying.
"This thing begins tomorrow, then?" she asked.
"Yes. I was just preparing for it."
"Oh, dear, dear, what a terrible situation for you and for Logan. Is there no way then to avoid it?" she asked, leaning forward.
"Only if Fanny would return Drake and relinquish any claims to him," I said. "But if she hasn't done it up to now, you can be sure she's prepared to go ahead. She thinks she has less to lose and it's her way at getting back at me. There's nothing more I can do but proceed."
Loretta waited until Mrs. Avery served us the tea before continuing.
"This is all anyone's talking about here," she said as soon as Mrs. Avery left.
"I know."
"Heaven," she said after a long pause. "Logan has told me everything. He was preparing me since it would only come out at the trial. I know what he did was wrong, terribly wrong, and I think it's wonderful of you to be so forgiving, but to let this out in the community, especially this community, would be a terrible mistake. Winnerow is almost the buckle of the Bible Belt. It will be so difficult for both of you here afterward, no matter how successful the factory might be. People will snicker and talk and—"
"I don't care," I said quickly. "Drake is more important than worrying about the gossip of some religious hypocrites."
"But, my dear, you have your own child to think about, too. He or she will go to school here and have to socialize with the other children, whose parents will fill them with tales. It will be so hard."
"What are you suggesting, Mother?" I asked, tired of the whine in her voice.
"Can't you find some way to settle this discreetly? What if you permitted Fanny to have the boy for part of the year and you have him the remaining part?" she asked, smiling as if she had come up with a wonderful solution.
"For one thing, she wouldn't go along with such an arrangement. She is determined to hurt me in some way and she is using this as a method. I told you . . .
she's always been jealous of me. For another thing, I couldn't live with myself knowing Drake was under her influence for six months out of every year. It would take me the next six months to undo all the damage she had done. She's already poisoned him against me."
"But as Logan says, she'll probably grow tired of taking care of him, especially since she has her own child on the way. And if there is no promise of big money . . ."
"It's out of the question, Loretta," I said I didn't want to call anyone "Mother" who made such a suggestion. The smile left her face as if I had slapped it.
"You're not thinking of your own family, of Logan and your own child," she said sternly.
"Drake is my own family," I said.
"But my dear," she said, leaning back, "you and I know he's not."
I stared at her. Apparently, there wasn't
anything Logan hadn't told her. I wondered if he had told her what had happened between Tony and me.
"Drake is, too, my family," I said slowly, my eyes narrowed, my gaze pointed and sharp as steel knives. "I resent your saying otherwise."
"I'm only trying to be helpful," she said. "I'm only thinking of your welfare."
"Thank you, Mother," I said, smiling, my face dripping with the same false cordiality. "It was so nice of you to come over here in this bitter cold."
The false softness quickly left her eyes. Her hand shook and she nearly dropped the teacup.
"Well, I think you're making a terrible mistake going through with this, but if you're determined to do it, there's nothing more I can say." She put the teacup down so sharply, it nearly shattered. "Please," she said, standing. "Don't tell Logan I came over here to advise you. He asked me not to do it."
"Then why did you?" I asked quickly.
"Sometimes a mother knows what's better for her child . . . instinctively," she said.
"That's exactly how I feel, Mother," I said.
"Although I am not Drake's mother, I know instinctively what's better for him, and like his mother, doing what his mother would surely want, I intend to win him back. I hope you'll be there to support us during this trying time."
"Oh, of course, I will," she said quickly. "Poor dears. Of course." She came around the desk to kiss me. Her lips felt cold against my cheek. "Just call me, anytime. And we'll be there right beside you," she said.
She shook her head and sighed and then she left.
I sat back and looked out the window. It must have warmed some, I thought, for it had started to snow, but my heart still felt as if it were caught in the grip of a cold hand. Of course I was frightened about tomorrow. Of course I was concerned about the future of my own child, but I couldn't stand the thought of Drake growing up and someday looking at me with Luke's eyes, filled with a similar resentment. I wanted so much to win his love and have him cherish me as his sister. Fanny sensed just how much I wanted it, and so she set to take it away.
I was tired of losing the people I loved.
"No, Loretta," I whispered, "there is no other way. This journey filled with pain and suffering has come to an end where it all began . . in the Willies.
And that's as it should be. Surely, that's as it should be."
I turned back to the papers on the desk,
determined I would be ready.
SIXTEEN
The Trial
THE COURTHOUSE WAS STUFFED LIKE
A THANKSGIVING turkey, with so many people crowded in, it was full to bursting. Nearly in tears Logan's mother told me some people in Winnerow had actually planned to close their shops and leave their jobs to attend the hearing.
This early November day brought us our first true winter weather. It had been snowing heavily all morning; a sharp, brisk wind churned the flakes into wild dervishes. In such bitter, brutal weather I didn't think many people would venture out, but it seemed most of the town had come to witness the spectacle.
When Logan and I entered with Camden Lakewood, people stared and whispered, their voices like dry leaves blown before winter's first wind. Everything about us was fodder for their grinding jaws—the clothes we wore, the expression on our faces, and the way we carried ourselves as we walked down the aisle to our seats before the judge's table.
It was Camden Lakewood's idea that we should create a distinct contrast between ourselves and Fanny and Randall immediately, so Logan wore one of his expensive dark blue suits and his lamb's-wool topcoat.
I wore a dark blue wool dress, my matching diamond bracelet, necklace, and earrings and my silver fox coat. I had my hair brushed down, but pinned up on the sides.
Logan's parents sat right behind us, his mother looking as though she were holding her breath. Her face was already flushed and she wore the most agitated expression. His father smiled warmly and nodded with encouragement.
The crowd's murmur rose in volume the
moment Fanny, Randall, and their attorney, Wendell Burton, entered. They had been married two weeks ago in a quick civil ceremony. Fanny swept in a few steps in front of them. She had her rich black hair pinned into a bun and wore long, silver earrings that dangled from her lobes like icicles. I was surprised at how smart she looked in her heavy dark green wool jacket. It had a detachable cape that she unfastened the moment she came through the door. Beneath her coat she wore a high-collar black wool dress with three- quarter sleeves. She wore no jewelry other than her earrings.
Randall wore a light overcoat. His hair was shiny and wet from the snow, and although he looked frightened and tense, he did appear neat and distinguished in his dark brown suit. Fanny looked directly at people in the audience and smiled. She waved to some people, people I recognized from the Willies. A few smiled and waved back, but most just stared in awe. Randall pulled out Fanny's chair for her. They sat on the opposite side of the courtroom. I felt Fanny's eyes on me, but I didn't look her way. I wanted to wish her away, wish her right out of existence. Was this going to be her way to finally bring me down to her level, to air all our shame before the entire town? O
h, Fanny was so jealous of me, still and forever jealous and spiteful and now she had her day to be heard, and I knew she would show me no mercy. And I had done nothing to her! Nothing! She didn't want Drake to be her child; she wanted only to humiliate me.
When the judge, the Honorable Bryon
MacKensie, entered the courtroom, everyone stood up and hushed, the Willies men holding their hats in their hands. The judge spread his black robes as he sat down, very elegantly, and scrutinized his large audience. He appeared slightly taken aback by the size of the crowd. He was a highly respected judge in these parts, presiding over many of the society cases and keeping company with senators and statesmen. He was a tall, lanky man with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.
He shuffled through some papers on his desk for a moment and then picked up his gavel and rapped it loudly. "This court is now in session," he intoned.
A few people coughed nervously, but other than that, it was as silent as a funeral parlor.
"I expect this hearing to be conducted in an orderly manner," he began. "The audience will not, I repeat, will rot voice comment, clap hands, or in any way disturb the factual presentations and examination of witnesses. Anyone who does so will be forcibly removed and in jeopardy of being held in contempt of court."
He glanced at his papers once again.
"This is a hearing to determine custody of one Drake Casteel. Mr. and Mrs. Logan Stonewall have moved to have the court assign them full guardianship of Drake Casteel, who, we understand, is presently under the care and supervision of Mr. and Mrs.
Randall Wilcox.
"Mr. Lakewood, since your clients have moved for this proceeding, I would ask you to begin."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Camden said, rising from his seat. "It is our contention, Your Honor, that my clients Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall are not only in the best position to provide a proper home environment for Drake Casteel, but that in the case of Mr. and Mrs.
Randall Wilcox, the opposite is true. We will prove through our arguments that the environment of the Randall household is unwholesome morally speaking, and that the motivation for Mrs. Wilcox's
guardianship of the child in question is not in his best interests.
"For this purpose, Your Honor, I would like to present certain witnesses who can not only qualify our arguments but prove to this court the superiority of my client's intentions and home environment."
"Very well, Mr. Lakewood," the judge said mechanically, "please call your first witness."
"We call Mr. Peter Meeks, principal of the Winnerow Schools."
Like trained seals, all the heads of the good folk of Winnerow turned toward Mr. Meeks, who rose quickly from his seat and walked to the witness stand, where he was sworn in. In his arms he carried a folder. Camden Lakewood leaned one elbow on the stand as Mr. Meeks took his seat.
"Please state your name and position for the record."
"My name is Peter Meeks. I am the principal of the Winnerow Schools."
"And for how long have you held this position, Mr. Meeks?"
"Nearly twenty-eight years," he said with obvious pride.
"So you were principal of Winnerow Schools when Fanny and Heaven Casteel were students there?"
"I was."
"I will ask you, Mr. Meeks, to direct your memory to those years, and give the court your evaluation of these two schoolgirls."
"Well," Mr. Meeks began, settling himself more comfortably in the hard wooden seat, "I do remember them vividly because their family was one of the poorer mountain families, and, unfortunately," he said, lowering his voice as if whispering a loud secret to the judge, like a schoolboy who wants his secret heard by all, "these families and their children give us most of our discipline problems. They come to school undernourished, poorly dressed, and are not very motivated when it comes to learning."
"Please get to the point, Mr. Lakewood.” said the judge
"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Meeks, how would you characterize Fanny Casteel in relation to the kind of student you just described?"
"Oh, typical. A constant discipline problem.
Poor grades."
"You say 'typical,' but were her discipline problems that typical?" Camden asked quickly.
"Well, actually, no. She was what we call a promiscuous young lady."
"Go on, please."
"She was. . . often reprimanded for conduct unbecoming to a young lady, especially one only twelve, thirteen, or fourteen."
"Mr. Meeks, would you give the court an example of this conduct"
"Your Honor," Wendell Burton said, rising to his feet. "Ah object to this line of questionin'. What Mrs. Wilcox was like as a young girl should have no bearin' on this hearin" Jist about everyone in this courtroom did some hell-raisin' in one way or t'other when he or she was younger. But we all grow up; we change and mature, and we're here today ta talk about the mature Mrs. Wilcox and the mature Mrs.
Stonewall."
"Mr. Lakewood?"
"Your Honor, it is our contention that Fanny Wilcox did not grow up, did not mature, as Mr.
Burton describes, that in fact she has a continuous history of promiscuity."
"I will let the witness go on," the judge said,
"but I advise you, Mr. Lakewood, I am concerned that we develop a factual history here, not simply innuendo."
"I understand, Your Honor. Mr. Meeks, an example?"
"Well . . ." He opened his folder. "On one particular day in March of her second year in junior high school, Fanny Casteel was discovered in the boys' locker room with two young men. She was only half dressed. She was reprimanded and sent home early. On another occasion toward the end of that same month, she was found with an older male student in the crawl space under the stage. The teacher who found them wrote in her report that they were embraced in a licentious manner. Again, she was sent home."
"How old was she at the time?"
"Thirteen."
"I see. Do you have other examples?"
"At least half a dozen."
"Your Honor, I don't wish to be redundant and waste the court's time with the recitation of more examples, but I would move for Fanny Casteel's school record to be entered as evidence for you to consider when making your determination."
"So moved."
"I have no further questions for Mr. Meeks."
"Mr. Burton?" the judge said.
Wendell Burton smiled He had a syrupy face with large blue eyes and lips that moved like two strips of red licorice. There was a prominent mole just over his right eyebrow. His hair was slicked back, the top flat and parted just two inches off center. He stood about five feet ten and was a little stoop-shouldered. I noticed that he had a habit of rubbing his hands together before he spoke.
"Mr. Meeks," he said, without leaving his table,
"ah assume ya brought Heaven Casteel's records as well today?"
"No."
"Oh, and why was that?"
"I was only asked to bring along Fanny Casteel's records."
"Ah see. But knowin' what this hearing was all about, ah assume ya took a look at Heaven Casteel's records."
Mr. Meeks squirmed in his seat, looked my
way, and then back at Wendell Burton.
"I did take a quick look just in case I would be asked any questions pertaining to those records."
"Oh. Good, good," Burton said, starting toward him. "Now, would ya tell the court what ya discovered when ya looked at Heaven Casteel's attendance records."
"I don't understand," Meeks said, looking toward the judge.
"Especially durin' her last year at Winnerow.
What was her attendance like, for example?"
"Well?"
"Was she not in fact absent a great deal?"
"Absent?"
"Mr. Meeks," the judge said. "Please answer the question."
"Yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Oh, ya could say that?" Wendell smiled widely at the audience and then looked at Mr. Meeks. "Is that the be
havior of a good student?"
"No, but—"
"Isn't poor attendance a serious discipline problem?"
"Of course."
"Despite her immature behavior in school, Fanny Casteel at least attended school more often that year, if we check those records, did she not, Mr.
Meeks?"
"On the surface, I suppose you could say that."
"Mr. Meeks," Wendell said, suddenly looking sympathetic. "I understand how ya feel. Ta judge whether one adult woman is goin' ta be a better mother than another adult woman on the basis of junior high school is about as valid as lookin' into a fortuneteller's crystal ball, isn't it?"
"Objection, Your Honor," Camden said. "He's asking the witness to pass judgment on the value of his own testimony:"
"But Y'Honor, Mr. Lakewood's been askin' the court ta place validity on Mr. Meeks' judgment all along here."
"I don't see it that way, Mr. Burton," the judge said. "Mr. Lakewood has brought out factual data.
Rest assured, I will be the one to pass judgment on the validity of the information. Objection sustained. Do you have any further questions for this witness, Mr.
Burton?"
"None, Your Honor. Oh, yes. one more," he said, turning suddenly. "Mr. Meeks, recently Mrs.
Stonewall brought Drake Casteel ta your school ta enter him as a student, did she not?"
"Yes." Mr. Meeks sat back, pressing his hands together as if in prayer.
"And ya entered the boy even though he is not quite of age, did ya not?"
"Yes, but—"
"In other words, ya made an exception ta please Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall?"
"No, not just to please them. We can make exceptions when a potential student shows
exceptional promise."
"Ah see. Then Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall's position and influence in this community had nothing ta do with yer decision?"
"Objection, Your Honor!"
"Or yer testimony here today?" Wendell Burton added quickly.
"Your Honor?" Camden pursued. I was glad to see he could be just as aggressive as Wendell Burton.
"Y'Honor, ah'm tryin' ta show that this witness is a prejudiced witness," Burton said.
Fallen Hearts (Casteel Series #3) Page 30