The Trial

by Larry D. Thompson

  A waitress dropped off two cheeseburger baskets.

  “You eating onions?” Sue Ellen asked.

  “You bet. You better, too, for self-defense if nothing else.”

  Sue Ellen nodded and loaded her cheeseburger, topping it off with mustard and ketchup. When she took a bite, she chewed with a smile on her face. “You’re right. Best damn cheeseburger around. Promise to bring me back?”

  “Not before tomorrow night, anyway.”

  Sue Ellen nodded her agreement. When they finished the burgers, they grabbed two more beers and walked along the river as the moon peeked over the hills to the east. Pausing on a boulder that jutted out into the river, they turned and wrapped their arms around each other. The kiss was long and passionate. When they broke away, Luke said, “See, we couldn’t even taste the onions.”

  27

  Sally Witherspoon marched into Rudy Kowalski’s office, pitched her report onto his desk, and eased down into a chair. “We’ve got a mess on our hands down in Louisiana.”

  Kowalski leaned forward. “I’ll read your report this afternoon, but give me the executive summary.”

  “This Dr. Batiste knows how to play the system. It’s not bad enough that he has nearly nine times the maximum approved number of subjects enrolled. That alone will throw up a big red flag to CDER. He enrolled his entire family in the study, including cousins. Claims they’re all subject to sinus problems. His main practice is pushing a bunch of pills to fat women for weight loss. From what I saw, he should have had them out walking around the parking lot instead. There’s one batch with all the same blood work. Then there’s another group that have the exact same vital signs on every visit. How likely is it that two women are each going to have identical blood pressure of 139 over 83 on repeated visits? How about twenty with that same pressure? Also, if the charts are to be believed, he signed up forty-three subjects all between seven and eight one evening. You think he had a Tupperware party or something?”

  Kowalski buried his face in his hands. “Anything else?”

  “Probably half of the consent forms are forged. The initials on each page look like they were made by the same person with the same pen. There’s plenty more. It’s all in that report.”

  “So what you’re saying,” Rudy sighed, “is that we paid the good Dr. Batiste a couple of hundred thousand dollars for crap.”

  “If that’s a scientific term, Rudy, the answer is yes,” Witherspoon said, nodding. “Oh, and I might add that there was not one adverse reaction to the drug out of all of his patients. You and I both know that’s impossible. Surely some had liver enzymes climb enough to be reported.”

  “Okay, Sally. For now let’s keep this just between us. I’ve got to figure out what to do before I break the news to Kingsbury.”

  28

  Luke stopped a security guard on the A&M campus and asked for directions to Milner Hall, where he hoped to find Samantha in class. He parked in a visitor lot across the street, locked the door, and walked toward the building. At the entrance he paused, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and double-checked the room number. The class had been in progress for twenty minutes. Luke looked through the window on the door and saw a young professor who was lecturing about the American Revolution. When he opened the door, several students looked back momentarily and then returned their attention to the front.

  There were two hundred students in the room, some taking notes on paper, some on computers, and some following the professor’s lecture in a textbook. A few were text messaging, and some just stared off into space. Luke studied the students and spotted Samantha on the back row. Her arms were folded on the desk and she was resting her head on them. If she wasn’t sleeping, she was putting on a good act.

  He walked up behind her and shook her shoulder. Samantha raised her head, not sure where she was, and then realized it was her father. He motioned her to follow him out of the classroom. Samantha reached for her backpack and trailed behind Luke.

  When they were in the hallway, she asked, “Father, what are you doing?”

  “I just came from the admissions office. You’re no longer a student here.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’m dead serious. I got your midsemester grades. You were perfect. You have an F in every subject. Judging from how I just found you, I think I understand why. It’s hard to stay up all night partying and expect to learn anything in class.”

  “Wait, it’s only midsemester. I can pull them all up to C’s. Give me a chance.”

  As they walked across the street to the car, Luke replied, “I told you that you only got one chance. You’ve had it. You’re going back to San Marcos with me.”

  “But what about my room, my clothes?”

  “I’ve got a mover with a security guard overseeing him right now. Your stuff will be back in our house by tonight.”

  Samantha turned to walk away. “I’m not going. I’ll get a job here in College Station and take out some student loans. I don’t want you in my life ever again!”

  Luke grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “I’m not giving you an option. Get in the car. Now!”

  Samantha did as she was told. She folded her arms and stared out her window for the next three hours. When they got home she greeted Cocoa and slammed the door to her room. For the next week she came out only long enough to get peanut butter, Cokes, and crackers from the kitchen. Luke tried to get her to go out to dinner with him. She refused. He tried to get her to take Cocoa for a walk. She refused. Weeks went by and nothing changed.

  One evening Luke and Sue Ellen were talking quietly on the front porch. As usual Samantha was in her room.

  “I’m out of ideas, Sue Ellen. I can’t even get her out of the bedroom.”

  They had rocked quietly for several minutes when Sue Ellen said, “You know, Josh always knows I’ve got his back. Whatever happens, whatever he does, he knows he can tell me. We can talk through any problem. We even yell at each other a little, but then one of us apologizes and life goes on. When’s the last time you showed Sam that you had her back, that you had confidence she would do the right thing, no matter what?”

  Luke thought about his answer. “Probably before we moved to San Marcos, maybe when she was about eleven.”

  Sue Ellen reached over and took Luke’s hand. “Then maybe it’s about time to change that. She’s an adult now. Give her a roof over her head, but let her be that adult. Show her you respect her decisions as a woman. If she screws up, let her deal with the consequences. Maybe even apologize for your behavior when you’ve been a jerk. Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  Luke nodded his head but said nothing.

  The next Saturday morning he knocked on Samantha’s door.

  “What is it?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “I suppose. Just don’t complain about how my room looks.”

  Luke opened the door and stepped over clothes, Coke cans, and cracker boxes. When he got to the bed he sat on the edge and took his daughter’s hand. “Look, I’m sorry. I did my best, but I’ve been a lousy father. If you’ll give me another chance, I promise to do better. And I want you to know that I now respect you as an adult. It’s your life. Live it as you choose.” Samantha stared at her father, not sure she could believe what she was hearing. Then Luke slipped a key into her hand. “Now look out the window. It’s yours.”

  Samantha climbed from her bed and walked to the window. Shining in the driveway was a blue Camaro with T-tops. “Father, why? Why now?”

  “It’s three years old, but all I could afford. Consider it a symbol of our starting over. I trust you to drive it safely. I want you to know I have confidence in you, and I know my confidence won’t be misplaced. You’re welcome to stay here. In fact, I want you to stay here. But if you want to go back to A&M and get a job, it’s up to you. I don’t need to be making decisions for you anymore.” Luke surveyed the room. “Now, this is only a suggestion, but it wouldn’t hurt if you cleaned up
a little.”

  Samantha lay back down on her bed and buried her head in her pillow, not sure what to think or do. Luke quietly closed the door.

  29

  Over the next several weeks Samantha elected to test the waters. On the Friday night after the conversation with Luke, she stayed out until three in the morning. When she entered the front door, Luke was nowhere to be found. She climbed the stairs, and only Cocoa greeted her. The only sound she heard was Luke snoring behind his closed bedroom door.

  One afternoon Luke came home from seeing a client to find Samantha drinking a beer on the front porch. He smiled, kissed her on the cheek, went into the house, and came back out, beer in hand, to join her.

  One evening she had four friends over and played computer games, accompanied by rap music, until the wee hours of the morning. Cocoa even howled along with some of the singers. Luke just shut the door to his office and worked.

  Samantha threatened to return to her goth look. Luke pointed out that her probationary period had expired and she was entitled to dress however she pleased. Samantha smiled and left her hair its natural red and stuck to jeans and T-shirts.

  If she had been grading her father’s papers, Luke would have gotten an A.

  One afternoon Samantha overheard Ruth, Luke’s part-time secretary, telling him that she needed to take an indefinite leave of absence. Her daughter in West Texas was having a difficult pregnancy and had been put on bed rest by her doctor. Luke nodded his understanding and said he would figure out a way to get by.

  After Ruth had gone, Samantha walked down the stairs and knocked quietly at Luke’s open door. Luke looked up from his computer, smiled, and said, “Hi, Sam. When did you ever find it necessary to knock to come into my office?”

  “Just being polite, Father. Can I sit down?”

  Luke wondered what was going on. He didn’t recall ever seeing his daughter with this attitude. He gestured for her to take a seat. “What’s going on, Sam? You decide to go back to College Station to look for a job?”

  “No, sir. I heard Ruth talking to you. I’m not doing much these days. I thought that if you need me, I could help out around the office. I can answer the phone. I’m a good typist. I even know how to make coffee,” she added. “And I’ve been thinking. I can’t blame you for everything in my life, particularly for my bombing at A&M. I made those five F’s, not you. I think I’ve learned I have to accept responsibility for my actions.”

  Luke put down his pen and took off his glasses. He reached for a Kleenex and idly wiped them as he looked at his daughter. What’s happening here? he thought. Then he realized that he at least had to give Samantha a chance. “Okay, you’re hired. Hours are ten to three. Pay is ten dollars an hour,” he replied, “plus room and board, of course.”

  Samantha stood and reached her hand over his desk. Luke was uncertain what she was doing until it dawned on him that she was expecting to seal the deal with a handshake. He also got to his feet and took her hand. “I accept, Father. I’ll start tomorrow if that’s okay.”

  Samantha was in her office across from Luke’s at nine the next morning. Cocoa wandered back and forth between the two rooms, not sure what was going on. Finally she decided that since it was daylight, her proper place was in Luke’s office on the rug in front of the fireplace. Samantha wore a dress and had her hair back in a bun, doing her best to look professional. She busied herself with rearranging the office and even brought a few photos down from her room for the walls. Around ten thirty she saw an African American couple of indeterminate age climbing the steps with two grocery bags. They knocked on the front door and waited for someone to greet them.

  Samantha jumped to the door. “Morning, miss. Is Ruth here?” the gentleman asked.

  “Ruth’s away for a while. I’m Samantha. Please come in.”

  “No need, Miss Samantha,” the woman replied. “We’ve had a good fall crop and just wanted to bring Mr. Vaughan some vegetables. Would you see that he gets these? We know he’s a busy man, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Samantha thanked the visitors as they turned to go down the steps. She walked to her father’s office, and he smiled when he saw the two grocery bags. “Looks like the Watsons dropped by. Just take those up to the kitchen.”

  “Father, why are they bringing you vegetables?”

  “They drop by three, four times a year, sometimes more. Their son was in a little trouble a few years ago. I helped him out. They live on a disability check, and Mr. Watson grows some vegetables in the backyard. They couldn’t afford a lawyer, so I didn’t charge them anything. Ever since, I get fresh vegetables. I try to tell them it’s not necessary, but they won’t hear of it.”

  As Samantha turned and climbed the stairs to the kitchen, she thought that maybe there was a side to her father she’d never seen before.

  * * *

  “Vaughan Law Office. This is Samantha. How can we help you?” Samantha discovered that she liked answering the phone. Luke’s clients were varied: old, young, male, female, all races, most of apparently modest means. Some wanted wills. Some wanted Luke to review documents before they bought a house or a piece of land. A few wanted a divorce; Luke didn’t like doing those, but they helped to pay the bills. A couple of times a month a businessman would show up to discuss a real estate project or the purchase of a strip center. Samantha learned that would mean a good payday.

  When Samantha saw the mailman drive up, she leaped from her desk to meet him, trading a bottle of cold water for the day’s mail and a smile of thanks.

  That other side of Luke kept popping up, she found. An elderly couple entered the office one day while he was on the phone. Samantha got drinks and invited them to take a seat in the hallway, which had become the reception area. When Luke got off the phone, he greeted them and went to Samantha’s office. “Sam, these folks are here to sign their wills. Run out back, please, and see if Whizmo’s there. If he is, tell him we need five minutes for him to witness their wills. You’ll be the other witness.”

  Within a couple of minutes Samantha and Whizmo came through the back door. Luke introduced Whizmo as Dr. Moore, the famous history professor at the university. Whizmo obviously had done this a number of times, so Samantha followed his lead as she signed her name on the documents.

  “How much do we owe you, Mr. Vaughan?” the man asked.

  “Not a thing, Mr. Sampson. Simple wills are easy and something that I believe a lawyer ought to do as a service to the community. You folks have a good day now.”

  Luke, Whizmo, and Samantha adjourned to the front porch, where there was now a third rocker. “Father, don’t you think that you ought to be charging those folks something? They look like they could pay two, three hundred dollars.”

  “That’s not the point, Sam. We’re not rich by any means, but we’re making a decent living. Besides, they’ll pass on a good word about me to a neighbor or someone at church.”

  “Sam, you wouldn’t have any idea how many times I’ve been called up here to witness wills. Your father is generous with his professional time,” Whizmo added. “If he ever went back to trying lawsuits, half the people in this town would be looking for a way to find for his clients, just because they know Luke or have friends that do.”

  Samantha rocked silently as she contemplated this other side of her father once again.

  30

  It was a strange thing about runners. They eventually became addicted. It usually took about a year. Then, if they missed more than a day or two, it affected their body and spirit. Luke had arrived at that point back when they lived in Houston. In San Marcos, morning was his time for a five-mile run; it cleared his mind and got him ready for whatever the day had in store. One morning he came out of his bedroom, dressed in his orange shorts, a white singlet, and New Balance running shoes. He found Samantha sitting at the kitchen table, also dressed for a run but wearing a maroon Aggie T-shirt.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not, only you’ll have to chang
e that T-shirt. Just kidding.” He laughed.

  Samantha rose from the table. “You’ll probably have to go slow for me at first. I haven’t been running since I went away to school.”

  “Are you serious? You’re running with an old man. Go easy on me. Tell you what, we’ll let Cocoa set the pace.”

  Seeing what was happening, Cocoa barked, bounded down the stairs, and waited eagerly at the front door.

  Luke and Samantha stretched while Cocoa ran circles around the front yard, checking out early morning smells. As they started their run, they concentrated on their breathing and working kinks out of muscles. When they passed Sue Ellen’s house, Samantha asked, “How serious are you about Sue Ellen? I think she’s pretty cool.”

  Luke thought about his answer. “I haven’t said this to anyone but her. Sam, we’re in love. You’ll always be my first love, of course.”

  Samantha smiled.

  “I figure on popping the question when the time is right. Expect a wedding before the end of the year, maybe beside a stream out in the Hill Country at sunset.”

  They ran two blocks before Samantha finally spoke. “You kinda took your time on that decision, didn’t you? I mean, you’ve known her this time around for about five years, and as far as I know, you haven’t dated anyone else.”

  Luke smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think either one of us was in a big hurry. Neither of us had had a serious relationship in more than ten years when we met this time. Maybe we just knew we had a good thing going and didn’t want to mess it up. It’s a little hard to explain…” Luke’s voice trailed off.

  “That’s okay. I think that’s fantastic. I couldn’t be more happy for both of you, honest. By the way, too bad Josh is younger than me. He’s turning into a hunk. I’ll bet every girl in high school is trying to get her hands on him.”