“Oh, thanks, Ian … you look sick too,” she said over Chris’s shoulder, and then they ran down the stairs and out the door. Ian knew he was supposed to report to Marya and Charles-Edouard in the kitchen for a cookie-baking fest.
“So what did you tell Marya and Charles-Edouard?” Chris repeated the question. She hadn’t answered.
“I told them you hate their food and wanted to go out for a decent dinner.” With two of the most famous chefs in the world cooking daily meals for them, it was admittedly hard to justify going out. But this was different.
“Very amusing.” He knew she hadn’t really said that.
“I told Marya you invited me to dinner.”
“What did she say?” He was curious at the reaction they were going to get if they started going out. Ian had already said he thought it was funny and let it go at that. He had laughed at his dad as he got dressed.
“She thought it was a good idea. So do I.” She was liking the idea better and better, although she had terrified herself for the past two days, imagining every possible disaster that could befall them if they got involved. But she had still kept their date.
“I like the idea too,” he said, looking pleased with himself as they walked to Da Silvano. He had chosen that because they both liked it. And he didn’t want to do anything too fancy and make her uncomfortable. He wanted her to have a nice time. She already was. It was fun to feel like a girl again, on a date, in a skirt, with a man. Wow!
The headwaiter gave them a good table inside, and there was a chill in the air. Winter was coming, and fall had arrived. Chris was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a brown corduroy jacket, with freshly shined loafers. He looked nice. And he had shaved before they went out. She liked that. The five-day beard stubble look had always turned her off. Trendy or not, it looked dirty to her. Chris looked immaculate and handsome, and they looked right together.
They both ordered pasta and salad, and he ordered a great bottle of Napa Valley wine. And even before the pasta arrived, they were talking and laughing, about how silly they felt all dressed up and out together, about the leak the other night, and things Charles-Edouard did and said. When she thought about it later, she didn’t even know what they had talked about, but they’d had a nice time. A really nice time. It was fun to get away from the house, their work, and even Ian, and just be grown-ups out for an evening together. It was great.
They lingered over dessert and coffee and were the last to leave the restaurant. They wandered home slowly, and everyone was in bed when they got home. Ian was sound asleep, tucked in on his top bunk.
“I had a wonderful time,” Chris said, as he kissed her just outside her room, on the landing. He had walked her upstairs, like a proper date.
“So did I,” she whispered, and he kissed her again.
“I don’t know why we didn’t figure this out six or nine months ago,” he said, smiling down at her. “I feel like we wasted a lot of time.”
“We didn’t. We weren’t ready.” And now they knew each other well. It was better this way.
Chris nodded, and kissed her again. They held each other, and he hated to turn away. She finally let herself into her room, and he ran quickly down the stairs to his own. She walked into her bedroom with a big smile on her face and then laughed. It had been an excellent first date.
Francesca and Chris tried to act like nothing was happening, but it was obvious that something was. Marya smiled every time she saw them together, and Charles-Edouard clapped him on the back with a big grin after their date on Tuesday night.
The next morning at breakfast, it was hard being together, trying to act normal. Chris kept smiling at her, and Francesca blushed shyly, which made him want to kiss her, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to have to say anything to Ian yet. But his son was no dummy either. He chuckled when he saw them together.
Chris took her out again on Friday night, for Mexican food and a movie, and on Saturday morning Ian looked at both of them and burst into a fit of giggles. He was eating his favorite Mickey Mouse pancakes and bacon. Marya had made them for him, since he never tired of them and requested them again and again, and then she and Charles-Edouard had gone to Vermont for the weekend. Their romance was going well, and they both looked happy. So did Francesca and Chris. It was contagious.
“So, have you kissed her yet?” Ian asked his father when Francesca went upstairs to get something from her room. She had promised to give Chris a book she read that summer and thought he would love too.
“What are you talking about?” Chris tried to look innocent, but Ian wasn’t buying it.
“If you take a girl to dinner, you have to kiss her. Everyone knows that. You took her to dinner twice. If you don’t kiss her, she’ll think you’re gay.”
“Where did you get that from?” Chris looked shocked.
“A fifth grader told me. He said that means you’re a sissy and don’t like girls.”
“Well, don’t go calling anyone that, or they might take a swing at you if they don’t like it,” his father warned him.
“Okay. So did you?”
“It’s none of your business,” Chris said defensively.
“Yes, it is. She’s my friend too. I’d kiss her if I took her out to dinner.”
“That’s nice to know.” Chris smiled at him as Francesca walked back into the room and handed him the book. She said she had loved it and thought he would too. It was a well-written thriller by a new writer.
“What are you two talking about?” Francesca asked innocently as she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with them.
“I asked him if he kissed you yet, and he wouldn’t tell me,” Ian said, polishing off the last of his pancake, and then he looked straight at her. “Did he?” She nearly choked, and didn’t know what to say.
“Would you be upset if he did?” Francesca asked gently, and Ian laughed.
“Of course not. I love you, Francesca. I think my dad does too. He’s just too chicken to say it, or do anything about it. I told him if he doesn’t, he’s gay.” Francesca’s eyes opened wide. She hadn’t expected that.
“I don’t think he’s gay,” she said, and sipped her coffee, looking at Chris for cues. She had no idea what to say. Chris was nodding imperceptibly, and she looked straight at Ian. “He kissed me.”
“Then he’s not gay.” He gave his dad a high five for the kiss, and she felt like she had walked into the locker room with two high school boys. She was the object of a high five. It was a first for her.
“I figured he wasn’t. So that’s okay with you?” she asked Ian. She was glad that Charles-Edouard and Marya weren’t there. This was definitely a family discussion.
“Yeah, it’s okay with me,” Ian confirmed. “I like it. You’re our friend.”
“Yes, I am, but I don’t want to do anything that makes you unhappy. You both mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess that up.”
“You mean like my mom?” he asked. They were heading into deep waters.
“I don’t know about your mom, Ian. That’s between you and your dad. I just don’t want to upset you or your dad, or disappoint you in any way.”
“You won’t,” Ian said confidently. He had total faith in her. “What are we doing today?” He moved on to the next subject, since they had established that they had kissed. He hopped out of his chair then, and bounced upstairs to watch TV. He wanted to go to Central Park after lunch.
“Well, that was easy,” she said with a look of relief after he left the room. “I was afraid he’d be upset.” Chris was smiling at her.
“I didn’t think he would.” He leaned over and kissed her then, and then slipped into the chair next to hers and put his arms around her and gave her a real one. At that exact moment Ian walked back into the room. They didn’t even see him until they came up for air. He was laughing at them.
“Good one, Dad,” he said happily, and left the room again, and took a box of rice cakes with him, to munch while he watche
d TV.
“I have to get the hang of this,” Francesca said, looking a little shaken. “I wasn’t expecting a cheering section in the bleachers.” But she was glad that he approved. It was better that way.
“They talk about sex too much in school,” Chris said, looking slightly unnerved too.
They cleaned up the kitchen, and went out for lunch that afternoon, and then to Central Park. They walked around the boat pond, wandered into the zoo, bought ice cream, and threw a football between the three of them and played tag. They felt like a family, and all three of them were happy when they came home late that afternoon with some new DVDs. Chris invited her into their room, and she watched TV with them, sitting next to Chris on the couch, and Ian sprawled out on the floor. Francesca hadn’t been that happy in years. And best of all, Ian approved.
Chapter 17
THE MORNING OF the permanent custody hearing, Chris was up at six. Marya had offered to take Ian to school. He knew that something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew it was another one of those court hearings about his mom, where his dad went out in a suit. Chris didn’t want to explain the details to him. And nothing was going to change. Ian was still going to be with him, whatever happened in court today. So Chris didn’t want to worry him. Kim was still in jail, she was still a drug addict, and she wasn’t coming out anytime soon. The only difference after today’s hearing was that if Chris won, Ian would never have to live with her again. She would have visitation, but Chris wouldn’t be getting calls from the police after she OD’d or slashed her wrists with Ian keeping pressure on her arteries until the paramedics arrived. He wouldn’t be picking him up in juvenile detention halls after she got arrested. He didn’t want Ian ever going through that again. And he wanted court-supervised visitation whenever Ian saw her in future.
Francesca had volunteered to go to the hearing with him, but he thought it would be too upsetting for her.
“Excuse me?” she said to him after Ian left for school. “Do I look like a sissy to you? I know what a drug addict is. I know what Ian has been through. I remember when she OD’d and you flew out the door to go get him. I’m well aware that she’s being charged with manslaughter and may go to prison. Why can’t I be there for you?”
“What if I lose?” he said, looking worried.
“That’s even more reason for me to be there for you. And if you lose,” she said firmly, “we’ll try again. You’re not going to lose, Chris. She’s a mess.”
“Her father is a very powerful man.”
“So is yours. You’re related to two presidents, for chrissake. And I don’t mean Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. I mean recent ones. That carries some sway.”
“My family doesn’t like to get involved in public messes. They love Ian but they thought I never should have married her. She wasn’t on heroin then, but she was a mess. I thought I was going to put Humpty Dumpty back together and turn her into a princess. Instead, she turned into scrambled eggs, and always was. They think she’s an embarrassment to us, so they ignore the whole situation, even what it does to Ian. I think they have denial about it. They don’t want to know. Kimberly’s father would lie, cheat, steal, and murder people so she doesn’t have to suffer the consequences of anything she does. That’s part of why she’s never cleaned up. She’s never had to. He cleans everything up for her. There’s no such thing as paying the price in her life. Everyone else does it for her, even our son.”
“Can I come?” she asked again, and he nodded assent, and she kissed him. Their relationship was going well. It had only been a few weeks, but they had spent some good time together, and he had taken her to dinner several times. They hadn’t slept with each other yet, but neither of them was in any rush. They were proceeding with caution, and he had this hearing on his mind. He was going to feel a lot better when it was behind him, especially if he won, but either way. And as Francesca had just said, if he lost, he would try again.
They took a cab to the courthouse on Lafayette Street. They arrived punctually at ten o’clock, and Chris’s attorney was waiting outside. Because she was in jail, Kim didn’t have to be there, and she wasn’t, but her lawyer was, a very nasty woman whom Chris had hated for several years. Her only interest was in protecting her client, and never their son.
Chris’s attorney was a serious-looking man in a suit, wearing a dark tie and steel-rim glasses. Chris introduced them, and he shook Francesca’s hand. She had a good feeling about him. She didn’t like the look of his ex-wife’s attorney. She looked mean and threw dark looks at Chris.
They entered the courtroom at the same time, and took their places. Francesca took a seat directly behind Chris, and touched his shoulder as she sat down. And a moment later the judge walked in, and the bailiff called them to order. There was no one with Chris except his lawyer and Francesca. Ian’s mother was not in the courtroom, only her attorney, and Chris had pointed out discreetly to Francesca as they walked in that Kim’s father was in the room. Everyone knew he was there and who he was. He was hard to miss. He was on the cover of Time and Newsweek every year, and in the papers frequently, and the judge would recognize him too. His being there was a form of silent intimidation, but the message was not likely to be missed. His daughter had his full support, which was no small thing.
Both sides of the case were presented. Kim’s immense devotion as a mother and her love for her son. How much she loved him. What a good person she was, that she was going straight into rehab as soon as she got out of jail, because she wanted to be clean for her son. The woman lawyer representing her turned to the judge, and with the most earnest look Francesca had ever seen, she said that there was nothing on earth Kim was not willing to do for her boy, and that she could swear to the judge personally that there would be no further risk to the child, and that joint custody must and should be preserved. And at all costs this eight-year-old boy should not be deprived of his mother once she got out, nor feel abandoned by her if Chris wrested custody away from her, for sole custody for himself. She said that was clearly not in the best interests of the boy, but joint custody was. She used everything except organ music and a choir to sway the judge. He sat stone-faced on the bench, listening raptly to everything she said, and Francesca saw him glance in Kim’s father’s direction more than once. She knew that Chris had seen it too. It was what he expected. Powerful people pulling strings, even just by being there and staring at the judge. It also told them that Kimberly’s family didn’t intend to lose. It was an important message, and Chris was afraid it could well convince the judge to maintain joint custody between them. That was Chris’s worst fear, and Francesca shared it. She didn’t believe for a minute that they wanted what was best for Ian. Nor did Chris.
Francesca was nervous about Chris’s lawyer at first as he began to speak. He seemed professional more than impassioned. He was extremely dry and unemotional, particularly in comparison to Kim’s lawyer, who had pulled out all of the emotional stops to an alarming degree. A private investigator had been working for Chris, and unearthed information that none of them had ever known before, and surely not the court. Chris’s attorney explained in his opening statement that Chris was not seeking to keep Ian from his mother, that they would welcome court-supervised visitation when she was free to participate in it. They didn’t want to keep the boy from his mother. All they wanted was to keep him safe, and living in a wholesome atmosphere. And given his mother’s history and her poor judgment, they felt that all decisions regarding Ian should be made by Chris. That meant sole custody for him. It meant deciding about schools, taking him to doctors, making regular trips to the dentist. Everything from religious education to braces would be decided by Chris, which made sense to Francesca as she listened. Chris was doing it anyway. Sole custody for him meant that Kim would lose her voice in all decisions. It meant that she could see him, even regularly if she was in good condition, but she couldn’t decide where he went to school, or put him at risk again, if the judge granted supervised
visitation.
Having explained very unemotionally that Chris was not seeking to prevent visitation, as long as it was supervised by a third party appointed by the court, but only to gain full custody of his son legally, the attorney then read the essentials of the investigator’s report. It was a list of horrifying acts, failures, episodes, misdeeds, dangerous interludes, and shocking displays of wanton and even criminal negligence. Francesca knew a little from Chris, but what she knew was a drop in the bucket compared to the rest.
Kimberly Harley had endangered her son in every possible way hundreds of times. And Chris had been fighting her and trying to protect Ian for years. The courts had always tried to respect the fact that she was his mother. But the accumulation of evidence was overwhelming now. All of what Chris’s lawyer was telling them was new to the court, and some of it had been new to him. According to witnesses who had signed statements for them, she had left Ian with other drug addicts, abandoned him in truck stops and restaurants where he was brought home by other people, forgot she had him with her and left him by the side of highways, dropped him when he was a baby because she was on drugs, which Chris knew, forgot him on the roof of her car as an infant, where Chris had rescued him before she drove off, left him in crack houses, left him with a dead body, forgot to feed him for days, had attempted suicide several times in front of him, and pointed a loaded gun at him intending to kill him and then herself, and another addict had taken the gun away from her and saved Ian’s life. The attorney said that Ian had called 911 for her countless times when she OD’d. The list went on and on and on and on. It no longer mattered that Chris’s lawyer was unemotional and used none of the bells and whistles the female attorney had. It was better this way. His lack of emotion was far more effective. They were cold hard facts, pages and pages and pages of them, with police reports and signed witness statements attached. Francesca looked behind her at Kim’s father, and he looked like he wanted to kill Chris’s attorney for telling the truth about his daughter. It was the most damning evidence any of them had ever heard and couldn’t be denied. Listening to it, and knowing Ian, Francesca thought Kim deserved a lot worse than prison. She had no idea how Ian had survived it, and it was no longer surprising that Chris was relationship-phobic. Married to a woman like that, constantly endangering the life of their son, even when he was an infant—how could he ever trust anyone again? There were tears in Francesca’s eyes as she listened. The list of horrors finally ended, and Chris’s attorney approached the bench and handed a copy of all of it to the judge. He was sitting silently and stared at Chris. He then asked the attorneys to come into chambers. Francesca whispered to Chris and asked if the judge knew that Kim was currently being charged with manslaughter, and he nodded. Chris was sitting there stone-faced, trying not to remember vividly each incident where she had endangered Ian. She was a public menace, and Chris had said for years that she belonged in prison.
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