With Baby in Mind

by Arlene James

  She pulled back. “You make it sound like you were dying before Kate came along.”

  “I was,” he said flatly. “Slowly but surely I was dying. I’d just quit, Ken. I’d given up. I even retired from the business. I just couldn’t seem to care about it anymore. Then this beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman brought me back to life. That’s the God’s honest truth, Ken. She made me alive again, and not just that, young again. She made me young again. And she’s willing to do anything to make me happy, even put up with your crap.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Dad!”

  He adopted that same stern air that he’d taken with her a thousand times before, starting at about age three. “You’ve been rude, Kendra. Worse than rude. You’ve been downright unkind. You’ve turned up your nose at every overture she’s ever made. And all along she’s tried to understand. More than that, she’s kept the peace, stopped me from saying anything to you, even refused to marry me until you were settled with Parker. My God, Kendra, the night of Nathan’s funeral you wanted to come home, so the woman moved into a hotel!”

  “I—I didn’t know,” Kendra choked out. “I thought she still had her apartment.”

  “And she wanted you to think that, Kendra. She didn’t want you to hate me because we were together.”

  Kendra looked down in shame. How unfair she’d been! And all because she hadn’t wanted to understand! She hadn’t wanted to admit that the woman who had been such a wonderful mother to her had been such a poor wife to her father. But hadn’t she known, really? Hadn’t she seen her mother in herself at one point? Wasn’t that why she’d broken up with Edward? Because she could see that she and Edward would have had no more than her mother and father had had together. And to think that she had blamed her father for that! Not consciously perhaps, but she’d told herself how like her father Edward was, rather than how like her mother she was! But Parker had changed that. Parker, Parker and Kate. Only Parker didn’t love her. He simply wanted her. But maybe being wanted wasn’t such a small thing, after all. She fought the urge to turn her gaze on him and blinked away tears.

  “I—I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Hell, Kendra,” he said, “I don’t want apologies.”

  She looked up. “What, then?”

  He glanced at Parker and back again. “She’s trying to help,” he said. Just that, nothing more.

  Shamed to her core, Kendra nodded. “Yes. Yes, I see. I understand. I’ll...I’ll...” She lifted her hands beseechingly. “I’ll change. I promise.”

  Dan shook his head and reached out a long arm to hug her to him. “Aw, honey, I’m not asking for that much. Just give her a chance, for my sake.”

  “All—all right. Sure. Anything you say, Daddy, because...because I love you.”

  He chuckled deep in his throat. “I know. I know, baby. And everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see. Kate won’t let you lose Darla. I know she won’t.”

  Kendra nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Th-thank you, Daddy.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Thank Kate,” he said, “and your husband.”

  So he had prompted this. She mulled it over as her father took his leave of her, acutely aware of Parker’s silent presence. The moment the door closed behind Dan Ballard, she turned to him.

  “Why?” she asked. “Because we argued over Kate?”

  His face was utterly inscrutable. “Is that what you think the argument was over?”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, and it was damned unfair of him to keep turning the tables on her this way. “Why can’t you just answer my question?” she demanded.

  “Why can’t you answer mine?” he retorted.

  She glared at him, when what she really wanted to do was throw herself at him and beg him to love her, really love her. Damn him, bringing her father into their argument, forcing her hand like this. “You’ll do anything to get what you want, won’t you?” she grumbled.

  He seemed to actually think it over before answering; then he said exactly what she expected him to. “Yes. This time I’ll do anything to get what I want.”

  And that’s Darla, she thought bitterly, just Darla. The saddest part of it was that she’d do anything to help him, anything at all. She loved him that much, and he couldn’t even see it. “I have to go to work,” she said sharply and left him there, staring at nothing like the blind man he was. It never occurred to her that her own eyesight was as poor as his.

  * * *

  The letter came the morning before the hearing. “Dear Kendra,” it read. “The time is now. I offer you a final chance to minister to your fellow man as few are privileged to do. I promise you that this experience will teach you what life is all about. You will never again be the same for your work here. You’ll change all those shallow middle-class ideas. Never again will you be content with a small job and a small house and a small life. Instead of being one of those who people the world, you’ll be one who changes it. Think of that, my dear, and let me know your decision. I’ll be in town for a few days soon, and look forward to seeing you again. I feel sure we can set you on the right course at that time. I only want what is best for you, one more thing we undoubtedly hold in common.”

  Kendra folded the letter and stuck it in her purse, then went on to work. It was odd how Devon’s eloquent words failed to move her. “One of those who people the world,” he had said, as if those who made up the world did not matter as much as those whose lofty purposes and high-flown ideas moved them to accomplish “greater” things. What was the difference between a man who tried to save a single child and one who couldn’t be content with saving millions? Oh, she knew that Parker’s motives were not completely selfless. He needed Darla as much as she needed him, but at least he knew that. Devon Hoyt seemed to consider himself above such mundane emotions; yet, he was apparently lonely—one more thing they might well have in common. It was that that made her keep the letter. Devon might be someone to go to when it was all over with Parker, and the end was coming so quickly.

  She didn’t think that he’d want her to go immediately after the hearing. That would raise questions better left unasked. Her own self-imposed period of six months might not even put them in the clear. She could probably stretch that to nine or ten months, maybe even a year, but the hearing was the beginning of the end, and she knew it. And the hearing was suddenly upon them.

  She stood looking at Parker, Darla in her arms. They were all dressed in their Sunday best, Darla in strawberry pink velvet with lace edging and delicately embroidered roses, matching bonnet, white tights with a ruffled seat and white patent-leather shoes. Kendra wore a gold knit suit with a slender skirt and a collarless jacket cropped at the hips and trimmed in black braid. Black stockings and black shoes with relatively thick soles and high, flanged heels completed the outfit. She had left her hair down, pulling the front and sides back in a soft roll atop her head. With large black-and-gold earrings resembling small targets, she had a definite forties’ look about her, elegant but simple, unique without being absurd. She looked, in fact, like a woman capable of doing anything, a woman who knew her own power—mother, wife, warrior—in a well-fitted suit.

  Parker was another matter entirely. In double-breasted black with a bloodred shirt and a wide, extravagantly flowered black-and-white tie, he was devastatingly handsome and utterly individual. Clearly, the only fashion he cared about was his own, and he dared the world by his demeanor to tell him that his taste and sense of things were wrong. If Kendra was a warrior woman, he was the male icon she fought to protect and validate, and Darla was the being chosen for his love and blessing, the one individual who could do no wrong, provoke no wrath. Darla was the treasure, and everyone knew it when they walked into family court.

  It was a small room, almost cozy with its oak paneling, floors, tables, chairs and small but pretentious judicial bench. There were no spectator seats, only a row of sturdy chairs placed on either side of the door on the back wall. Wanda Hatcher, the social worker,
was seated there, along with the Pendletons’ oldest boy, Dan Ballard, an unidentified man and, unexpectedly, Edward White. Edward and Wanda Hatcher smiled circumspectly in greeting, while the Pendleton boy stared at them with open curiosity and the unidentified man ignored them completely. Dan Ballard got up and wrapped them each in a bear hug before kissing Darla and tickling her under the chin until she giggled and swiped his hand away, knocking her cap askew in the process. Parker straightened it, meticulously arranging her dark hair into waiflike wisps beneath the shallow front brim. Darla reached for him, and he swept her easily into his arms. Kendra fished a bottle from the small diaper bag on her shoulder and handed it to him, but he didn’t offer it to the baby. Instead, he slid it into his left lower coat pocket, and Darla busied herself with trying to kick the cap off the nipple with one swinging toe.

  They walked across the floor to the table where Kate stood waiting for them. She looked fiercely competent in a navy blue suit nipped in at the waist. Beneath her jacket, she wore a cream-colored blouse with a wedding ring collar and pleated front. Her blond hair had been twisted into a neat French roll, the top and sides waving softly about her face. She wore a slim gold pocket watch with fob pinned to one lapel and simple pearl earrings. It was the “power look with a feminine touch” that Kate did so well. For once, Kendra was grateful for it. No one had ever looked more competent that Kate Ridley. The rumpled, tweedy aura of the Pendletons’ grandfatherly lawyer and the “earth friendly” style of the Pendletons themselves seemed woefully out of place in comparison. But Kendra put no faith in her own powers of observation at the moment. She claimed no objectivity in the matter. How could she? She stood for Parker and Parker alone, no longer even making any pretense to herself that it was Darla’s best interests that motivated her, though she still believed, conveniently, that Parker would be better for Darla than the Pendletons.

  Kate ignored the baby, targeting first Kendra then Parker with her discerning gaze. “Nervous?”

  “A little,” Kendra admitted.

  Parker only jerked his head toward the rear of the room and asked, “What’s Ed doing here? I thought he was out of it.”

  Kate laid down the ink pen she held in one hand and confronted him squarely. “Do you trust me?”

  “What’s that got—”

  “I said, do you trust me?”

  Kendra watched as Parker subdued his irritation, came to a decision and nodded. Kate turned to her next.

  “What about you, Kendra?”

  She took a deep breath, searching for a truthful answer. Did she trust this woman? She thought of her father and knew that she must. “Yes.”

  “All right, then. Just accept that I’ve planned for every contingency and let it go at that.”

  “But...”

  Kate glared at Parker, displaying the ability that regularly reduced witnesses to babbling oracles. “Every contingency,” she repeated flatly.

  He shut his mouth, lips thinning. He didn’t like it, but he wouldn’t argue. Kate Ridley was clearly in charge—for now.

  The door behind the bench opened and the judge swept unceremoniously into the room, his black robe barely clinging to the shoulders of a natty, gray pin-striped suit. He nodded to the clerk to call the court to order and collapsed onto his chair, sprawling back with his hands clasped across his middle. They all took their seats. For a moment, the room was filled with rustling and scraping as papers were shuffled and chair legs moved over the polished wood floor. Then suddenly the judge lurched forward and collapsed upon the bench top, elbows splayed, shoulders skewed.

  “Ms. Ridley,” he said, a caress in his voice, “what a pleasure to see you in my court again.”

  Kate smiled and inclined her head coyly. “Your Honor.” Her voice was husky, sensual, utterly feminine. “It’s good to see you again, and please allow me to say what a privilege it is to represent the defendant in this particular case in this particular court.”

  The judge smiled. “Eloquent—and lovely—as ever.” He abruptly turned to the plaintiff’s lawyer and said in a loud voice, “Mr. Brower, nice to see you, too. Now let’s get to it. I’ve read the particulars—the briefs submitted by attorneys, the reports submitted by the state’s representative and the petition of probate for the willed estates of Nathan and Candace Sugarman, both deceased. At issue here is the assignment and implementation of custodial care for the minor, Darla Gayle Sugarman, aged eight months. I will now hear argument in the case. Mr. Brower.”

  During this monologue, Parker and Kendra huddled close and raised eyebrows at Kate, who shrugged and whispered from the corner of her mouth. “He always flirts like mad with the female attorneys, but he rules against them more than half the time.”

  They just looked at each other, both skeptical and wondering whether this boded ill or good for their case. Kendra felt a spurt of I-told-you-so-itis, but she squelched it immediately. No one could say whether or not Kate would prejudice this judge or any other, and Kendra was big enough to admit that she still had lingering resentment against Kate Ridley, as well as her father and her husband. It didn’t seem to matter that she knew perfectly well that such resentment was beneath her. All she could do was ignore it until it went away of its own accord. She tried to do that now by listening to the very dull intonations of the Pendletons’ attorney.

  He went on and on about the “equality of connection” between his clients and the defendants, the remarkably similar wording of the welfare worker’s reports on both households, even the “coincidence” of one partner in each marriage being involved in the pediatric health profession. But there, he claimed, the similarities ended and the true superiority of his clients as caretakers came into play.

  He went through a long list of the supposedly superior attributes of his clients. Heath Pendleton was a horticulturist whose natural, pesticide-free growing methods yielded the healthiest possible produce for his family. Why, the Pendleton children were virtually in perfect health. He talked about their large, comfortable home, calling it a “haven for children.” He discussed finances, submitting copies of the Pendletons’ tax returns and Sandra’s royalty statements charting the progress of her “respected” book. He even listed the playground equipment the Pendletons owned and pointed out the safety features of their family vehicles! It was apparent, he argued, that the Pendleton offspring were cared for better than any other children in the whole city. According to him, they were also far superior intellectually to the average child due to their mother’s “proven” child-rearing methods. That’s when Kate weighed in with her objections, saying that any number of factors could account for the intellect of any given child, beginning with genetics. She stated, too, that Dr. Pendleton’s “theories” were not proven effective, that no studies had been done to support her methods, and the quality of child care was far too subjective a matter for anyone, let alone an attorney, to decide what was best and what was not. The judge allowed Brower to attack only the contention that Dr. Pendleton’s methods were not proven, and thereby the first witness was called.

  The unidentified man at the back of the room came forward and revealed himself to be one of the city’s top child psychiatrists. He enthusiastically endorsed Sandra’s methods. Kate countered him by submitting twenty-six sworn depositions by other professionals, some of them even more distinguished than the witness, saying that Dr. Pendleton’s methods were unsupported by scientific methodology, limited mainly to her own children, controversial, spurious and even “kooky,” the one contention that Brower managed to get struck from the record.

  The next hour passed in like manner, with Brower setting up his arguments and Kate knocking them down either partially or fully. The unprepossessing Brower turned into an oratorical tiger, but Kate matched him snarl for snarl and sometimes outdid him. Darla grew fretful but eventually settled down to sleep in Parker’s arms. The judge did not even seem to notice, but all appeared to Kendra to be going well until Brower unleashed his claws.

  “And finally,
Your Honor,” he said, striking a pose at once apologetic and defensive, “one must contrast the length and stability of my clients’ marriage to the Sugarmans’, shall we say, surprisingly convenient and impulsive marriage of only four months’ duration.”

  Kate was on her feet before the words were out of his mouth. A regular shouting match ensued, at the end of which Kendra could not be certain who had won! It seemed, however, that Brower had won the right to bring forward a “surprise” witness. The surprise could not have been greater when Devon Hoyt strode into the room. Tall, slender and fit, his sleek blond hair streaked with silver at the temples and flowing over his collar in the back, he was the picture of a charming, erudite academic. His very demeanor spoke of well-formulated ideals far above those of mere mortals. He smiled warmly at Kendra, even stopped to kiss her hand at the defense table, an action she was too shocked to prevent, so that Parker finally had to snatch her hand from Devon’s.

  The next twenty minutes were sheer hell. At Brower’s direction, Devon pulled Kendra’s letters from his pocket and read selected passages that made it obvious she had failed to mention her marriage, referring to it only as “a duty to a dearly departed friend.” The most damaging evidence, however, was Kendra’s written intention to reapply for the mission in Africa in six months. Kendra covered her hand with her mouth and turned tearfully apologetic eyes to Parker, who looked positively stricken, his face pale, eyes haunted, as he clutched the sleeping Darla to his chest.

  When it was all over, Kate rose calmly and stated that the best rebuttal to such obviously prejudicial testimony could come only from another “friend” of the maligned couple. She called Edward White to the stand. To Kendra’s surprise, Parker actually brightened a bit, straightening in his seat, looping an arm about her shoulders and pulling her tight against his side.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, laying her forehead against his temple.

  He turned and dipped his head, kissing her gently upon the mouth. “Hang in there, babe. We’ll make it.”