“I’m not going to agree to that.”
“I knew you wouldn’t, but I had to let you know it was an option.”
“Then what’s next?”
“Does Maria want me to represent her in the petition to have her declared incompetent?”
Sandy told him about her conversation with Maria.
“I need to meet with Maria and her father,” Jeremy said. “And it might be better if you’re not present or serving as the translator.”
“Why?”
“Because it will weaken the argument that you’re manipulating the situation.”
“Okay,” Sandy said. “I felt pressured not to say much to Maria when I talked to her earlier today. There’s a Spanish teacher at the school who knows what’s going on. She’s served as a translator on medical mission trips for doctors. Her accent and vocabulary are top-notch.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to use a teacher from your school. Let me think about it.”
“For a domineering, authoritarian teacher, I don’t have much say in what happens, do I?”
“Because you aren’t.”
Sandy and Nelson reached the end of her driveway. Betsy’s car was parked beside the fence. Betsy got out and started walking to her. She stopped when she saw that Sandy was on the phone. Sandy lowered the phone to her side.
“It’s him,” she said in a low voice to Betsy.
Betsy nodded. Sandy returned the phone to her ear and drew closer to Betsy.
“Excuse me,” Jeremy said. “I missed that.”
“Uh, I’m home now, and I was talking to Ben’s wife.”
Betsy, a big smile on her face, pointed to herself and then the phone. Sandy shook her head. She wasn’t going to let Betsy talk to Jeremy.
“Okay,” Jeremy said. “I’ll send you an e-mail attachment with suggestions for your comments if you’re contacted by a reporter.”
“Can’t I just refer them to you?”
“You can, but it’s more powerful when a person who’s been sued speaks on her own behalf instead of hiding behind her lawyer.”
“And you’re not worried I’ll say something that can be used against us in court?”
“A little bit, but what you’ve done shouldn’t be illegal in America.”
The call ended.
“I just wanted to hear his voice,” Betsy said. “Was he giving you advice about the lawsuit?”
“Yes.”
“I told Ben not to waste his time trying to find another lawyer. Nothing could be more powerful than an adopted son defending his birth mother who’s helping a pregnant teenager choose life for her child. Jeremy standing in the middle of the courtroom is exhibit A of the potential God has put in each human being. How dramatic!”
“Yeah,” Sandy sighed. “Everyone is telling me there is going to be plenty of drama in my life for a while. Come inside and I’ll show you the pictures.”
Betsy stayed for over an hour. Her enthusiasm helped restore Sandy’s excitement.
“I’d better get going,” Betsy said, looking at the clock on the microwave. “I’m not cooking supper for Ben, but the least I can do is be there when he gets home to take me out to dinner. Do you want to join us?”
“No, thanks. I need some alone time.”
Betsy gave Sandy a hug.
“And don’t worry about the money to pay Jeremy. I told Ben I’m going to organize a Sandy Lincoln Defense Fund. You won’t have to do anything. I’ll handle the publicity, set up the events, and collect the donations.”
Sandy shook her head. “No.”
“Why not? Ben said the legal fees in a case like this could be thousands and thousands of dollars. That burden shouldn’t fall on you. Don’t worry. Everything will be done tastefully.”
“Give me a few days to think it over,” Sandy said reluctantly.
“All right, but don’t let your pride get in the way of letting other people help you.”
After Betsy left, Sandy checked her computer. There was an e-mail from Jeremy with an attachment containing the talking points he’d mentioned. Sandy printed out the information and read over it while eating. The comments were well-worded, but instead of admiring Jeremy’s writing skills, Sandy cringed at the thought of having to deliver them to an anonymous crowd. Like many teachers, Sandy could talk all day in front of students, but change the audience to adults and her hands became clammy. She slid the papers to the side of the table and focused on the remaining lettuce in her bowl.
To Sandy’s relief, the next few days passed by without a whiff of media interest in the lawsuit filed against her. Maria came by Sandy’s classroom and told her that she and her father were going to meet with Jeremy on Thursday afternoon in Rutland.
“We go to the courthouse on Thursday. Mr. Lane said they have rooms where lawyers can talk to people.”
Sandy had seen the conference rooms when she’d paid her property taxes.
“Is Mr. Lane going to have a translator there?”
“Yes, a woman who works at the court building. I wish you could do it, but I know it would make my father mad.”
Later that day Sandy received a text message from Jeremy asking her to call him. Deb Bridges answered the phone.
“Yes, Jeremy was wondering if he could meet with you on Thursday after he finishes with Maria and her father. He needs to go over some things with you about the hearing. He suggested your brother’s office in Rutland.”
“I’ll check with Ben, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
That evening Sandy phoned Ben at home to ask him about the use of his office.
“I have a client meeting at five-thirty. You can use Paul’s office or our conference room.”
Sandy heard Betsy call out something in the background.
“Betsy wants to know if you’ve thought any more about her offer to help raise money for your legal defense,” Ben said.
“Not yet. But I’ll let her know soon.”
“Okay. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Before she went to bed, Sandy logged on to her computer. Dr. Vale had sent her an e-mail informing her that the personnel committee for the school board was going to review her conduct at its next scheduled meeting in three weeks. Sandy sent Jeremy a copy of the e-mail. It was one more item of worry she had to take to bed.
On Thursday, Sandy wrapped up cheerleading practice at 4:50 p.m. It was an away football game, and the girls were going to do a dance routine they’d performed the previous year. Sandy incorporated a few minor changes to make it fresh.
It was less than a five-minute drive from the school to Ben’s office. Sandy checked her appearance in the mirror in the girls’ locker room before she left. She’d carefully selected a conservative outfit that was more businesslike than stylish. One question she had for Jeremy was how she should dress for the hearing in Atlanta.
When she arrived at Ben’s office, the only cars in the parking lot belonged to her brother and his administrative assistant, Mary Walker. Jeremy’s white SUV wasn’t in sight. Sandy went inside.
“Hey, Mary,” she said.
“Hi, Sandy. We’re going to the game tomorrow night. Did you know Harry’s younger brother moved to Foster County last year? He took a job with the Farmers Home Administration, so we’re going to meet him at the game.”
“Come down to the sidelines and say hello. There won’t be a lot of friendly faces in that crowd. They stick the visitors at the end of the stands on the home side of the field.”
Mary shut down her computer and picked up her purse.
“Gotta go. See you tomorrow.”
After Mary left, Sandy tried to sit still, but she kept getting up every couple of minutes to walk around. Finally, the front door opened. It was Jeremy. He was wearing a dark-blue suit with a white shirt and maroon tie. His hair was slightly disheveled. He had a folder in his hand.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “It’s been a hectic day.”
“How was your meeting with
Maria and her father?”
“Tough. Dustin Abernathy talked to Maria’s father before I got to him. He tracked him down where he works and spoke to him on the phone through a translator.”
“Can he do that?”
“Yes, her father isn’t an adverse party to the petition. In fact, he’d normally be the court’s first choice for guardian. Abernathy told Maria’s father that the easiest way to make the problem go away would be for Maria to have an abortion. Her father already believed that, so the lawyer didn’t have much convincing to do.”
“What did Maria say today?”
“Not much. When her father is there, she’s much less willing to open up.”
“So they didn’t hire you to represent her?”
“No.” Jeremy shook his head. “Even after I explained that I would help them for free.”
“Who’ll protect her?” Sandy asked with concern.
“If she doesn’t hire a lawyer, a guardian ad litem will be appointed by the court to act as an advocate on her behalf during the proceeding.”
“Dr. Vale mentioned that the other day.”
“I checked with the juvenile court clerk, and the guardian ad litem program in Rutland is staffed by non-attorney volunteers.”
“If you get the list of names, pass it along to me. I probably know some of them.”
“Good idea.”
At that moment Ben came into the room and shook Jeremy’s hand. Sandy watched Ben as he closely inspected Jeremy. Ben turned to her.
“You can meet in my conference room,” he said.
Jeremy and Sandy followed Ben down a short hallway. The walls of the conference room were decorated with Auburn football photos and framed paraphernalia.
“All this is a holdover from my father’s days,” Ben said. “Whenever he was in town, he always checked to make sure I hadn’t redecorated. He was disappointed when I wanted to go to Georgia, but he changed his mind when I received a scholarship and he didn’t have to pay any tuition bills.”
“I can ignore the decor.” Jeremy smiled.
“I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” Ben said. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”
Ben looked at Sandy and winked as he left the room. Sandy’s heart started pounding. Jeremy laid the folder on the table and took off his jacket. He sat at the head of the table with Sandy to his left.
“Okay,” he said, slipping a legal pad covered with notes from the folder. “I’ve done more research that will help me prepare you for the hearing next week.”
Sandy coughed nervously and cleared her throat.
“Jeremy, before we get started, there’s something I need to ask you.”
THIRTY
There’ll be plenty of time for your questions later,” Jeremy said. “I’ll probably answer some of them in my presentation.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure my question isn’t in your notes.”
“Okay.” Jeremy placed the legal pad on the table. “I’m listening.”
Sandy took a deep breath.
“Have you ever been curious about your birth mother?”
“Every adoptee thinks about that.” Jeremy shrugged. “My younger sister recently took the first steps to try to locate her birth mother. The record of my adoption was sealed by the court at the request of my mother, so I assume she didn’t want to be found.”
“Does that bother you?”
“I suppose she had her reasons. I was born a year or so after the Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade and could have been legally aborted. I’m obviously glad my mother didn’t take that step and thankful for my parents who raised me.” Jeremy gave Sandy a curious look. “The hearing in front of Judge Tompkins isn’t going to focus on the merits of adoption. It’s about your free-speech rights and Maria’s access to different perspectives on her reproductive choices.”
“If you had a chance to meet your birth mother, would you want to do it?”
“I’m really not sure. What does this have to do with you and Maria?”
“Nothing. It has to do with you and me.”
“What are you driving at?” Jeremy asked, then paused and opened his eyes wider. “You don’t think that you’re my mother, do you?”
“I don’t think so. I know so.”
Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Sandy for a moment.
“That’s not possible.”
Sandy took a deep breath.
“Do you want to know why I believe you’re my son?”
A skeptical look crossed Jeremy’s face, and he leaned back in his chair.
“I’m listening.”
“Shortly before my senior year at Rutland High, I got pregnant. My boyfriend played wide receiver on the football team. I decided not to have an abortion and moved in with an aunt in Atlanta. She took me to an adoption agency that allowed me to pursue a closed adoption with input in the selection of the adoptive parents. I reviewed at least a hundred files with the names and addresses removed. One day my caseworker left the room, and I saw a photo sticking out of a file. I peeked at the picture and saw a woman standing beside a large palmetto tree in front of a brick house with a cream-colored convertible parked in the driveway.”
“What kind of convertible?” Jeremy asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“It was a Chevrolet with South Carolina license plates. The woman had short blond hair and was wearing a yellow blouse and green skirt. After I looked at the photo, I slipped it back into the file. Later that day, my caseworker gave me the information, without the picture, and I found out that the woman worked part-time at a florist shop and was married to an airline pilot. When I saw the picture of you as a little boy in front of the same house, I realized who you are.”
Jeremy’s face grew pale. Now that she’d opened the floodgate of information, Sandy felt stronger.
“I’ve never forgotten one sentence your mother wrote as part of the application process to the adoption agency: ‘I believe Jesus will send us the child he wants us to love as he loves us.’ It was such a heartfelt statement of faith and desire to love a child the way he should be loved. I was just a teenager, but her words touched me deeply, and I knew this was the woman to raise my baby.” Sandy smiled. “It also helped that she had blond hair and blue eyes like me. I wanted the baby to fit in with the family based on appearance too.”
Jeremy was now looking at her with a mixture of bewilderment and wonder.
“And there’s nothing I want from you,” Sandy said, then stopped. “No, I didn’t say that right. I’d love to get to know you and your beautiful family, but I don’t want to intrude or force my way into a relationship. You have a mother, and your children have a grandmother. I’ll leave it completely up to you to decide what, if any, contact we should have.”
Jeremy glanced down at his legal pad.
“You’re right. None of this was in my notes. Do you mind if I ask you a few specific questions? I’m having trouble absorbing this.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where was I born and how much did I weigh?”
“You were born on April 5, 1975, at Piedmont Hospital in Atlanta. You weighed four pounds, ten ounces and were called Baby Smith.”
Jeremy nodded. “My mother still has the card that was taped to my bassinet in the hospital nursery. Why was I so tiny?”
Sandy gulped. From the moment the conversation started, her intent was to finesse her way around the issue of a brother, but it was an impossible goal. Sooner or later, the truth would come out.
“Because you are a fraternal twin. Somewhere, you have an older brother who weighed five pounds, two ounces.”
Jeremy put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. Sandy didn’t know if he was upset or holding his head up because his brain had suddenly gotten heavy with new information. After a few moments, Jeremy raised his head.
“Do you have any idea where he is?”
“No. The records were sealed by the court, and I’ve never requested
they be opened.”
“And my birth father?”
“His name is Brad Donnelly. The last I heard he was living in Pennsylvania. I’ve not had any contact with him since high school. It was a very hurtful situation for me, but if you want to track him down, I’ll help any way I can. Zach looks a little bit like him.”
Jeremy looked down at his hands, then at Sandy’s fingers.
“Our hands look similar.”
Sandy held out her hands. “I hadn’t noticed, but you’re right. Also, the way you touch your right ear with your right hand when you’re thinking is something my brothers and I do.”
“When you were in my office the other day, you mentioned another brother who lives in Chicago?”
“Yes, Jack. You look a lot like him.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“Ben does in his office.”
“I’d like to see it.”
Sandy left the conference room. She felt like she’d stepped off a spaceship onto a new planet. She went down the hallway. Ben’s door was cracked open. Sandy knocked.
“Come in,” he said.
“I thought you had someone coming in for an appointment,” Sandy said.
“He rescheduled. How’s it going?”
“Good, I think. I told him who I am, and he wants to see a picture of Jack.”
Ben picked up a photo of himself and Jack taken several years earlier at the beach.
“Would it be okay if I take it to my nephew myself?”
Sandy smiled. “He’s ours, not just mine.”
The three of them spent the next hour without ever discussing the hearing in front of Judge Tompkins. Jeremy got more and more excited and animated. There was so much to talk about that the conversation veered wildly. Sandy shed a few tears, but laughter quickly banished them. Finally, Jeremy looked at his watch.
“I have to get going,” he said. “I’m going to be up late tonight talking to Leanne.”
“When will you tell your mother?” Sandy asked.
“I want to do it the right way,” Jeremy replied thoughtfully. “That will require some planning.”
The Choice Page 30