She nodded. “I could try that.”
We discussed antidepressants and counselors, and she agreed to see a clinical social worker who could help her work through these problems. She also agreed to take an antidepressant which was known to benefit sleep. I gave her an appointment in two weeks to check her response to the medication.
When Elaine returned in two weeks she looked more depressed and worried.
“How did you do with the medication?” I asked.
“I took it for a few days but felt so dopey I quit.”
“Are you sleeping now?”
“No, and now I have a new problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I lost my job. They reminded me that policy prohibits sexual activity among employees, and everyone knew what had happened with Greg. I was given two weeks’ notice. I told them he forced me, but since half the people in the office are hot for him, they didn’t believe me. They said I would have reported it if I was forced, but I know that’s not true. Thousands of rapes are never reported.”
“Has the situation with Mike improved at all?”
“No, he still refuses to talk to me.”
“Are you looking for another job?”
“Not yet. I have some money from my mother’s estate so I don’t have to work immediately. I need some time to figure out what I’m going to do. I probably won’t be able to get another job as a paralegal. I may try to go back to school for something. I just don’t know right now.”
“Are you willing to try a different antidepressant?”
“Yes.”
Over the next several months I saw Elaine at least once a week to adjust her medicine and evaluate a number of stress-related illnesses. She was not doing well. Mike had not moved out, but he slept in the guestroom, saying he would wait until the trial was over before he found his own place, if the state did not provide one. He left for work early in the morning, ate all his meals away from home, and returned late at night. He refused to discuss anything with her.
Only one of Mike’s sisters prevented Elaine’s total isolation. His youngest sister was away in college, and another of his sisters, who lived in town and had been very close to Elaine, took Mike’s side. The other sister, who according to Elaine was beamed down from heaven, tried to offer support to both of them.
“Mike’s sister took me to lunch, said she knew I loved him.”
“Did you tell her what happened?”
“Yes. She wants Mike to listen to me, but she hasn’t been able to convince him.”
“At least she listened.”
During this time, I worked late in my office one evening doing paperwork when the phone rang. I felt the muscles at the back of my neck tighten as they do when alarms are raised. I answered. Bill Tarter identified himself as Elaine Green’s father. “Are you Elaine’s doctor?”
I hesitated then wondered if something had happened to her. “Yes.”
“I saw Elaine on her birthday and she referred to her doctor as ‘she.’ I’ve called every female gynecology practice in Lexington trying to find her doctor.”
“Has something happened to her?”
“That’s what I want to find out. I’ve called her repeatedly since I saw the article in the paper, but she doesn’t answer.”
“Mr. Tarter, I am not at liberty to discuss Elaine with you.”
“I know, but I want to know how I can help her.”
“Perhaps you could tell me something about your relationship that might help me help her.” I guess he needed to talk, and that was the invitation he needed.
“I love Elaine, and I’ve tried to be a good father, but I made some bad mistakes, and she’s not willing to forgive me. Elaine’s mother was an alcoholic. I tried to protect her from that as much as I could. Her mother never got up before noon, so I always got Elaine up and off to school. We were very close at one time. Linda, her mother, was a very likable person and she did love Elaine. They had a lot of fun together, and Elaine was very close to her as well.
“When Elaine was little, Linda would put her to bed at eight o’clock and start drinking. After she got older, Elaine realized her mother had a problem, but she tried to cover for her. I guess we both did. When Elaine left for college, her mother stayed drunk all the time. I started spending more time at my office; then I started seeing Beth, a woman who worked in my office. On the night that Linda was killed, she got drunk and called Elaine at school to tell her about my affair. After she hung up the phone, she drove to my office and Beth’s house looking for my car. She ran into a tree down the street from Beth’s house and was killed instantly.”
He paused. “Elaine blamed me for her mother’s death and has had very little to do with me since. The truth is I blame myself too. She did allow me to be part of her wedding. I guess she thought that was easier than explaining why she hated me so much. Thank you for listening, Dr. Parker. I guess I needed to get that off my chest. Maybe it will help you understand Elaine a little better. I’d do anything I could to help her, but she doesn’t answer my calls.”
“How did you happen to see her on her birthday?”
“I just showed up at her door.”
“That seems to have worked.”
“So it did. Thank you, doctor.”
About a week after I talked with her father, Elaine came for an appointment to evaluate her antidepressant. Wearing a bright yellow dress and smiling, she looked as if a burden had been lifted. She said she was getting some rest and thought she was tolerating this medicine okay, but she admitted that most of the improvement was due to a visit from her father.
“On Saturday, he just showed up at my door.”
“What happened?”
“He said he loved me and wanted to be there for me. He said what he did was wrong and he wasn’t trying to make excuses, but he hoped I would find it in my heart to forgive him. He said that he was sorry. He said he was lonely after I left for college, and I realized for the first time what a difficult life my father must have had, caring for me and covering for my mother. I remembered telling you I felt lonely with Mike working all the time, but I didn’t have half the problems my father had. I ruined my marriage with much less excuse than he did. Something about being guilty of the same thing makes you a lot more understanding of someone else’s indiscretions. I forgave him and asked him to forgive me for the way I’ve treated him all these years. He said he understood, and he forgave me. I feel like I have my father back, and maybe there is some hope that Mike will forgive me too.”
There is power in forgiveness, I thought. “What is going on with Mike?”
“The grand jury met last week. They returned an indictment. Mike will have to stand trial for second-degree murder.”
“That’s ridiculous. If the district attorney wasn’t running for reelection, he would be a lot more sympathetic toward an accident.” I could feel my hostility for our legal system rising.
“I’m sure you’re right. I hope you don’t have to testify.”
“Why would I have to testify?”
“They may want to have you say I was pregnant and that it was Greg’s baby in order to establish the motive for murder.”
“Wouldn’t I have had to do that at the grand jury if they were going to need my testimony?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t need you.”
“Do they have a date for the trial?”
“Yes, on April 2 they begin the jury selection.”
“So quickly?”
“The election again.”
“How could I forget? Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. I don’t think we need to change your medicine. Let me see you in a month.”
CHAPTER 12
On Tuesday, April 2, I had a high-risk obstetrics patient in labor and expected to be needed in the hospital all day, ready to perform an emergency C-section if necessary. I rescheduled the office patients for the entire day and was once again surprised by the patient, who delivered in four hours with no com
plications. With an unexpected afternoon off, I decided to call Jon to see if he could get free. Spending a weekday afternoon with my husband was a delicious thought. When Jon’s secretary said he had committee meetings all afternoon, I decided to go to the courthouse for the jury selection in Mike’s trial. I realized all I knew of the events were from either Elaine or the newspaper, and I wanted to see for myself how Mike was holding up.
Sheets of rain, driven by the wind, made both raincoats and umbrellas useless. I was soaked by the time I walked the half block from the parking garage to the courthouse and wondered why I hadn’t gone home, made a cup of tea, and built a fire—my favorite time for a fire being rainy days in spring. The courtroom felt cold. Mahogany furniture and woodwork created a formal, uninviting feeling. I was surprised to find it only half-filled. The newspaper made it seem that this was a high-profile trial since Greg had been a prominent attorney.
Taking a seat on the back row, I noticed Mike looked tired and thinner. So did his curly black hair. I had not seen him for over five years, but he looked ten years older. His once kind face, while still handsome, looked harder, more lined, more ominous. I suspected he had sleepless nights too. He sat next to his attorney, Robert Brown, at a table left of the center aisle in front of the bench.
Brown had a considerable reputation as a defense attorney and looked more confident than anyone else in the courtroom. His slim physique, full head of gray hair, bronzed skin, and rugged features were attractive. He wore a charcoal pinstriped suit, white shirt, and red tie. His carriage said he was a man used to having his way.
A familiar looking older couple, apparently Mike’s parents, sat in the first row behind him. I thought maybe I had seen them while Sara was sick. On the second row, Elaine and an older man sat talking quietly. I assumed this was her father. Sitting behind Elaine, I recognized Ellen Green Finch with her husband of twelve years, Joshua. She looks terribly thin, I thought. Sitting next to her was her sister Grace. She looks great. They have the same name; I wonder if they are Mike’s cousins? In all the years I had known the girls and Mike I had not put this together, but then I didn’t see nearly as much of them since I married and worked ninety hours a week.
Both Mike and his father gazed intently at one of the potential jurors, a lovely gray-haired woman dressed in a gray suit and light pink silk blouse. She sat very straight and stared at the back of the courtroom. She smiled faintly when she saw me, and I recognized my friend, Jessie Ferguson. I didn’t realize until later, but someone else also stared at Jessie.
“All rise,” the court clerk announced as the judge entered. Voir dire began as the judge explained the process. Mike’s attorney and the prosecutor were each allowed two preemptory challenges, persons they could disqualify. Both attorneys asked a lot of questions of each potential juror, and you got the distinct impression they were already trying to establish the direction their prosecution and defense would take. Mike’s attorney disqualified an older man who was a Baptist minister and said his son had been killed in an accident caused by a drunk driver. The prosecutor disqualified a young woman who wore a tight sweater and couldn’t keep her eyes off Mike. Mike’s attorney disqualified another attorney. The prosecutor disqualified a college professor.
When the time came to question Jessie, they asked her about her profession. Mike’s attorney asked if she or anyone close to her had suffered accidental death. He asked her thoughts on adultery. When she said, “I believe adultery is morally wrong,” Mike sneered and grunted so loud all eyes looked at him. Next the prosecutor asked if she had a relationship with any of the parties involved that might prevent her from being objective in her decision. She said, “Jeff . . . uh . . . Mike Green is my son,” and people who had been half-paying attention suddenly stared first at Jessie then at Mike.
The judge dismissed Jessie. As she made her way down the aisle toward the back of the courtroom, I hoped the potential jurors were not looking at Mike. His flushed face, clenched teeth, and white knuckles gripping the arms of the chair all screamed his hatred as his eyes followed her. At that moment even I, who was totally convinced of Mike’s innocence, believed he could commit murder. Jessie, trembling like a frightened child, sat down next to me and I put my arm around her. Mike, seeing that gesture, stared at me with shock and betrayal on his face.
At first I thought, This can’t be. Then I remembered Elaine saying Mike’s mother had run off with another man when he was twelve. Jessie’s son, Jeff, had been twelve when she left. Suddenly I understood; Mike was Jeff. Mike’s father told him Jessie had run off with another man, and Jessie never told him the truth about the abortion. It was no wonder that couple looked familiar; they were George and Mary.
As Jessie sat in the courtroom shivering, I realized I too was freezing. “Let’s go to my house, make a fire, and get something warm to drink. You’ve been dismissed,” I whispered.
“That sounds good.” As she stood, Jessie waved goodbye to Ellen and Grace, who both looked back to see her leave.
Outside the rain had not abated. We both were drenched by the time we reached our cars. At my house I put on the teakettle, loaned Jessie a purple terry cloth robe and slippers, and changed into a sweat suit. We hung her clothes by the fireplace and made a roaring fire. At first we sipped tea in silence. Finally, Jessie said, “I was surprised to see you in court today. What is your interest in Jeff?”
“We became friends when his first wife was dying with cancer. She was my patient. He had recommended that Elaine see me as well. I had no idea Mike was your Jeff. As close as we are, I had only seen him as Jeff that one time at the middle school basketball game.”
“His name is Michael Jeffrey. When he went to college they started using his first name, and he kept it. I was the one who wanted him called Jeff. I guess it was one more rebellion against me. Do you believe Elaine loves him?”
“Yes, I know it may seem hard to believe, but I think she does. She really wants to have a baby. I think that her strong desire to have children, coupled with her physiological drive at ovulation, was a factor in the infidelity, if that is what it was.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I’m not convinced she wanted to have an affair. As a matter of fact I don’t think she did. I’m concerned about her. Right now she is so distressed about Mike and what is happening with him that she has completely repressed the fact that she had an abortion.”
“She’ll have to deal with that sometime.”
“Yes, I know she will.”
“I wasn’t prepared for today. I knew Jeff’s trial was coming up, but my jury duty just started this month. This was the first day, and we didn’t know what trial we would be asked to do.”
“It must have been a terrible shock when you realized it was Mike. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m glad you were there. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Of course, this is not the first time that’s been true.”
“It was nothing short of a miracle that I was there. The lady whose labor I induced today delivered in four hours or I would not have been in the courtroom.”
“I guess God puts us where He wants us to be. I am glad the girls showed up to support Jeff. It can’t be easy for them, but thanks to you, they didn’t have to worry about me.”
It rained all afternoon as we talked. Jessie had just changed back into dry clothes when the doorbell rang, followed by loud, urgent banging. When I opened the door, Mike quickly stepped in out of the downpour.
Dripping on my floor, he shouted, “How could you know my mother and not tell me?”
Before I could tell him I didn’t know she was his mother, he saw Jessie standing by the fireplace. He erupted, hurling words like volcanic ash and spewing anger and hatred like lava. I stood by the door, stunned. Jessie sank into the sofa before the deluge. Mike paced back and forth in front of the fire.
“You’ve got your nerve showing up in that courtroom today when you know I never wanted to see you again! What happened? Did you
want to blame Dad for his son being on trial for murder? When you left we searched for you for weeks. I prayed every day that you would be safe and come back to us. Dad said he could understand why a woman like you would leave him, but he knew you would never leave your kids, so you must have been abducted or hurt. When that credit card bill came and we finally knew you were alive, I started hating you. Even then, Dad defended you. ‘I wasn’t man enough for your mother,’ he would say. ‘She left me, but I know your mother loves you,’ he would say. Over and over, ‘I know your mother loves you; I know your mother loves you; I know your mother loves you.’
“One day when the girls weren’t around I screamed at him, ‘Don’t ever say that to me again. You don’t know she loves us. You don’t know anything about her.’ He never said it to us again, but that night I heard him tell Mary he would never understand why you left your children; he knew you loved us. I can’t believe he thought he wasn’t good enough for you, you whore. Go tell the judge you can be a juror; you are not my mother.”
With that he abruptly turned and walked out into the rain. We sat thunderstruck. Neither Jessie nor I had said a word to him. Only the crackle of the fire, ticking of the hall clock, rain on the windows, and harmonious chords of the tenor wind chimes saved us from silence.
Finally I said, “Jessie, he needs to know the truth. He still thinks you ran off with another man.”
“Is the truth so much better?”
“Yes, I think it is. You did not choose another man over your children, and he needs to know that. I heard a lot of anger, hatred, and pain, but I also heard a question. Why would a mother who loves you leave you? You can answer that question, Jessie, and he needs it answered.”
“I want to talk to him, but how? When? Where?”
I had no answer, and as the grandfather clock chimed Whittingham and struck six o’clock, Jessie left for home.
Jon got home around six-thirty. Tired as he was from his afternoon of meetings, he brightened my day as no one else could. While I prepared dinner, he shared hilarious observations of his day. I loved his sense of humor perhaps more than anything else about him. After dinner, Jon retired to grade papers and I thought about my day. I decided to write a note to Mike, got out my favorite Waterman fountain pen and best cream-colored note paper, and wrote:
Saving Jane Doe Page 15