Twilight Child

by Warren Adler

  The younger lawyer led Mrs. Waters through what Annie felt was a clever interrogation, establishing a genuine loving tie between grandparents and grandchild. A good start for their side, she thought. She definitely liked Mrs. Waters. She wasn’t cloying or overbearingly sentimental, and Annie noted that her husband’s eyes, moist and intense, looked at her with unmistakable admiration.

  Of course, when Peck got up to cross-examine, the whole tenor of the interrogation changed, although Annie could see that the big man went out of his way not to appear hostile or overbearing. As expected, he asked benign questions at first, standard procedure to lull witnesses into a false sense of security. From the beginning, she could sense Mrs. Waters’s discomfort.

  “Did you know, Mrs. Waters, that the marriage between your son and his wife, Frances, was not a happy one?”

  The woman had paused to compose herself, although it was obvious that she had been wound up, waiting for the hostility to begin.

  “How can anyone know what goes on in a marriage?”

  Good answer, Annie observed.

  “You were the man’s mother, Mrs. Waters,” the big man said gently. “Are you saying that he never confided in you? Or that your daughter-in-law, who was, in fact, an orphan and had no one other than you and your husband to confide in, never mentioned that her marriage was unsatisfactory?”

  “Your Honor,” Forte said, standing up. “I object to this line of questioning. The condition of Mrs. Graham’s first marriage is irrelevant. We are dealing here with the relationship of the grandparents to the child.”

  “I don’t agree, Mr. Forte,” Annie said, a bit too quickly. There are roots to be considered here, she thought. The younger lawyer sat down and began to make notes on a yellow pad. Peck, on the other hand, rubbed his nose and waited for Mrs. Waters’s answer.

  “It was not that he was unhappy . . .” Mrs. Waters began, clearing her throat, looking helplessly at both her lawyer and her husband. “My son did confide in me. Only once. He tried to explain why he preferred to live a life away. . . .” She hesitated again, as if she knew she was getting deeper and deeper into a maze. “He was trying to tell me that he wasn’t irresponsible, that he cared about his family very much, but that he liked living as he did.”

  “And his wife, Frances. Was she happy with the arrangement of having her husband off working in foreign countries most of the time?”

  “No, she wasn’t.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “In fact, it was a terrible marriage, wasn’t it, Mrs. Waters?”

  “I wouldn’t use that strong a word.”

  “Not a good one, then?”

  “Maybe.”

  “A marriage that a young girl might want to forget?”

  “My son was still Tray’s father,” Mrs. Waters whispered. Then trying to rally, she said, “He loved his son.”

  “But you couldn’t call him an especially good father?”

  “When he was home—”

  “But he was hardly home. Now, that is not a good father in the traditional sense, is it, Mrs. Waters?”

  Mrs. Waters shrugged. For a moment, she seemed to lose her poise and looked toward her former daughter-in-law, who averted her eyes.

  “The point is that I was always very supportive of Frances.” She continued to look intensely at the young woman. “Wasn’t I, Frances?”

  Mrs. Graham looked up suddenly, and their eyes met.

  “Just answer the questions, Mrs. Waters,” Annie said. Peck continued.

  “How did you feel about your daughter-in-law’s marriage to Mr. Graham?”

  “I was very happy for her.”

  “Despite the fact that it was so soon after your son’s death?”

  “I thought it was the best thing for her. She needed someone to take care of her. And Tray needed a father. I had no objection.”

  “Not to the adoption, either?”

  She seemed suddenly to lose her poise. “What could we do?”

  “Did you object?”

  “No. We didn’t consider—”

  “You didn’t object?”

  “No.”

  “And your husband? What was his attitude toward the marriage with Mr. Graham?”

  She hesitated and looked helplessly at her husband. Forte nodded and closed his eyes in a reassuring gesture.

  “He wasn’t too happy about it. He felt it was, well, not respectful to marry so soon.”

  “And did he try to prevent it?”

  “He couldn’t prevent it, could he? He merely expressed his opinion that it was too soon after . . .”

  “In point of fact, he reacted very badly, didn’t he? Offering insults . . .”

  “Okay then, he was not very happy about it. He loved his son very much. I understood his point.” She was obviously rattled.

  “But you, too, loved your son. And you didn’t object.”

  “I guess maybe that was because I’m a woman—I suppose I understood her needs.”

  “And you also understood it when Frances came to you and said you were not to see your grandson for the time being so that he could adjust to his new situation?”

  “I understood. Yes. But I thought it would be temporary. I never expected it to go on for so long.”

  “But your husband was completely hostile to the idea and created still another scene.”

  “He did not like the idea of not seeing his own grandson—for whatever length of time.”

  “But you understood?”

  “I didn’t approve.”

  “And you did consent not to interfere with the decision?”

  “Only because, as I told you, I thought it was temporary. I trusted her on that score.”

  “So what made you suddenly change your mind?”

  “It wasn’t suddenly. It was two years.”

  Annie wasn’t sure where this was leading, and she wondered if she was letting it go too far. What was Peck trying to establish and why? she wondered. Mrs. Waters seemed to gather the threads of her composure, which had begun to unravel. She sucked in a deep breath.

  “We missed our grandson,” she whispered.

  Peck leaned over and cocked an ear.

  “A bit louder, please, Mrs. Waters.”

  “We missed our grandson,” she repeated, only slightly louder. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  The big lawyer rubbed his nose, a quirk that Annie thought detracted from the high drama he was trying to create. Suddenly, he looked up at Annie.

  “There has never been a decision in this state that considers the welfare, interest, or well-being of grandparents above those of the child. This case cannot be considered on the basis of the needs of grandparents—”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, counselor,” Annie said, foreclosing on the younger lawyer’s protest. But Peck had made his point. The woman on the stand looked confused and demoralized.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Waters,” Peck said, making no attempt to finish his impromptu statement. She watched the woman return to her seat. Her face had paled. As she sat down, her lawyer leaned over and patted her arm. But she did not respond, merely shook her head in a gesture of resignation and defeat.

  Peripherally, Annie observed the younger woman, wondering what was going through her mind. Her own widowhood had generated a different reaction in Harold’s parents. They did not seem to have this overwhelming need to see her children. Perhaps, in a way, they somehow blamed themselves, their upbringing, as a cause of his death. Or maybe they blamed her. Again she had to abort the drift in her thoughts and recall her concentration to the proceedings before her.

  She watched as Mr. Waters walked to the stand, noting the exaggeration with which he carried himself, shoulders squared, head high, in a kind of ramrod military posture. He was a rugged man with a weathered face, obviously trying to appear solemnly respectable and very much in charge of himself. A bit rough-edged. Backbone-of-America type, she thought oddly, wearing his pride li
ke a shield.

  Forte quickly brought out the routine questions, establishing the man’s relationship and background details. Mr. Waters answered him with clipped efficiency. For some reason, she felt the atmosphere in the courtroom change, the tension rise, the expressions on the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Graham and their lawyer grow more intense.

  “How would you describe your relationship with your grandson, Mr. Waters?” Forte asked with a smile.

  “We were pals,” Mr. Waters said pleasantly. “He’s quite a kid.”

  “You saw a lot of him then?”

  “Are you kidding? Every chance I got.”

  “Both before and after your son was killed?”

  “Even more after.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Well . . .” Mr. Waters shrugged. Annie decided that he was a bit embarrassed to be showing vulnerability. “A little kid loses his dad. That’s rough. Kind of rough on me, too. He obviously needed me even more than before. Had to be both a Grampa—a grandfather—and a father. We spent lots of time together. Had fun, too. We got a kick out of each other.” He was growing expansive, and his lawyer made no move to stop him, letting him meander. “We both looked forward to the weekends. I made him lots of toys. A wagon. It was—” He swallowed deeply, heading into more emotional territory. Forte let him, and soon Waters had to clear his throat and swallow a sob, but not before one had escaped. The point made, the young lawyer jumped in again with a question.

  “Did it come as a shock to you to learn that your daughter-in-law had decided to cut you both off from any visits to your grandson?”

  “Worse than that.”

  “You were angry?”

  “Damned right.”

  “And you made it known to your daughter-in-law and her future husband?”

  “Yes, I did. It was wrong. Unnatural. He was my flesh and blood.” He glanced quickly at his wife. “Our flesh and blood.”

  “And you made a scene when you found out?”

  “I expressed my anger. Yes.”

  “And then you agreed to go along with it?”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “And Tray? How do you think he felt about it?”

  “He had no choice either. How can anyone have expected him to feel? No sooner did he lose his father than he lost his grandfather and grandmother. I mean, you don’t have to be a genius to figure out how that can hurt a little kid.” He hissed air between his teeth and shook his head. “Wrong is wrong. There’s nothing on earth we wouldn’t do for that boy.” He stopped suddenly and stared at his former daughter-in-law. “She knows that.”

  Annie saw Mrs. Waters raise her hand in a gesture that appeared to mean that he stay calm. Peck saw the gesture as well and smiled thinly. Trouble ahead, she thought.

  “Based on your observations of your daughter-in-law both during the marriage with your son and after his death, was there any reason to expect such treatment?” Forte asked, apparently choosing his words carefully.

  “Definitely not,” Mr. Waters said, perhaps too quickly, indicating that he had been carefully rehearsed. She saw the big lawyer hunch over his pad and quickly scribble some notes.

  “Did you welcome the idea of your grandson’s adoption?”

  “I didn’t think it would create these kinds of problems.”

  “So you didn’t contest it?”

  “I didn’t know you could.”

  “Would you have done so if you knew you could?”

  “Considering what I know now, yes.”

  “Did you object to your daughter-in-law’s marriage?”

  “Not exactly. I just felt that they should have waited a proper amount of time. That’s all. Just a few more months is all. Okay, I was getting over that. No big deal. I was even considering going to the wedding. Letting bygones be bygones. I understood all that. Maybe I was a little too heavy-handed at first.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “He was my only son, my only child, and he was gone less than six months before—less than six months.” He sniffled and lifted his head. “But whatever I did, she had no cause not letting us see Tray. As if we were garbage. I mean, that’s dirty pool.”

  “And did you attempt to see him?”

  “Not at first. We wanted him to have time to adjust to his new dad. I didn’t like the idea, but I was willing to let time pass if it was to help Tray. I understood what he might be thinking,” he said, looking up at Mr. Graham. “That he wanted to be number one for Frances, that he didn’t need no reminders. I could see his attitude. I really could. Maybe at first. As I say, I didn’t like it—”

  Now she could see Mr. Graham cock his head in a way that showed the increasing intensity of his interest.

  “But after one year passed and nearly another, it began to eat us up. She wouldn’t even let us send him Christmas gifts. That really stuck in my craw. It was wrong to do that. Wrong for Tray, too.” She could see that it was becoming more and more painful for him to continue. “So one day I upped and visited Tray at school.” He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I had this old wagon that I had repainted. It was Chuck’s, and I just had this irresistible urge to give it to him. So I went.”

  “And you saw him?”

  “Yes, I did.” She could see that he wanted to cry, but he laughed instead. It came out as a kind of a strained cackle. “Should’ve seen him. He must have grown three inches. And I could tell that he was happy to see me. But we both played it cool.” He took another deep breath and paused. Forte made no attempt to prod him. “Then suddenly it was a big deal. They called Frances, and when she got there, I was asked to leave the school. Then Frances said that if I ever tried to do that again, she would call the cops. Crazy, right? Call the cops on Tray’s grandfather.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “Lower than a snake. And a little ashamed. For her. And for Tray.”

  “You made no attempt to see him again?”

  “What was the use?”

  “It was then that you realized that the only recourse was the courts?”

  He shrugged. “All we want to do is visit our grandson.” He looked up at Annie, misty-eyed, his Adam’s apple working up and down his throat. “Is that too much to ask? We mean no harm to Frances and her husband. We just want to get to see Tray.”

  It was pitiful, Annie thought, engaged despite herself, suddenly realizing why the other judges hated this job. Like readingTrue Confessions , Judge Compton had said. He was giving a man’s reaction, being deliberately oblique. What he had meant was that it was just too emotional to bear, that it clouded one’s sense of neutral judgment. Worse, she discovered. In her heart, she wanted to cry.

  “You don’t cry,” Peggy had said that morning. Well, Peggy was wrong.

  13

  CHARLIE was magnificent, Molly thought, controlled, sincere, candid, just as their lawyer had urged him to be. She was certain that he had made an impression on the judge, who, at first, had seemed cold, all business. The worst, she knew, was yet to come. But Charlie seemed comfortable and self-assured. She had felt awful on the stand, but it was a relief to discover that they had not chosen to make an issue of her visit to Frances, which indicated to her that Frances had kept their secret.

  It all seemed so unreal and unnecessary. And it was bizarre to think that that woman up there had the fate of all their lives in her hands. But at least they had been forewarned by Forte that the odds, the issues, and the law were against them, which didn’t leave much room for high expectations. It was something that they had to do, for themselves, for Chuck, for Tray. Just hold it together, Charlie, she urged, closing her eyes and concentrating, hoping that she might telepathically transmit her message to him.

  Of course, the message that Frances had transmitted with her pregnancy was a real surprise. Cagey lady, Molly thought. Not telling her when they had had their little get-together. All part of the strategy. It was ominous, she decided, wondering what else they had up their sleeves.

  S
he watched as the big lawyer slowly rose, like a bear moving in for the kill. The odd, random image frightened her. But Charlie seemed to be reacting well, chin thrust out, hands on his knees. Be the old tough gyrene, baby, she urged in her heart. She glanced toward Frances. Their eyes met briefly, then parted.

  “Mr. Waters.” The voice of the big lawyer boomed in the cavernous courtroom. It was meant to be intimidating. Even the judge, reacting to the sound, raised her head and tilted her chin forward.

  “What is your occupation, Mr. Waters?” the lawyer asked. He did not smile. His pose was unmistakably aggressive, and Molly grew frightened.

  “I used to be an inspector in the pipe division at Bethlehem. Sparrows Point.” She noted the sudden glazed look in his eyes. “Just retired.”

  “And now?”

  “Well, I work in a nursery.”

  “How long have you been at it?”

  “Couple of weeks.”

  “And before that?”

  “I had some other jobs. But I didn’t stay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Didn’t enjoy them, is all.”

  “You left them quickly. Each in a day or so.”

  “More or less.”

  “And how long do you think you’ll keep the nursery job?”

  Forte jumped to his feet.

  “Objection, your Honor.”

  “Please rephrase the question, Mr. Peck.”

  “How long do you expect to keep this job—”

  “I object to these questions, your Honor.”

  “I don’t see why. They seem perfectly proper to me,” Judge Stokes said.

  “I don’t see the point,” Forte said, sitting down.

  Peck turned once again to Charlie.

  “Do you like your nursery job?”

  “To tell you the truth, it’s pretty good. Outdoors. I think I’ll hang around awhile.” He winked at Molly.

  “All right then, I’ll put it another way. Are you enjoying your retirement?”

  She knew what he was getting at, of course. Trying to make Charlie appear unstable. Well, so far he had been outfoxed on that point.

  “I’m not that retired,” Charlie said, smiling.