by Judith Pella
Maggie tried to get his attention with her eyes. She was only three seats away from Mrs. Donnelly, but his gaze did not reach her. She wondered if he was purposely avoiding her. She smiled in his direction, desperate to communicate to him—what? That she was no longer mad at him? She didn’t know except that she wanted things to return to the way they had been. She wanted to return to their easy, enjoyable friendship. She should have followed the many impulses she’d had since that terrible day of the fight to go see him. She needed him now more than ever as she faced the possibility of betraying Tommy. Even if she had planned to lie, Mr. Cranston might somehow ferret the truth from her. Evan would never support her lying, so she needed to hear his assurance that all would be well if she told the truth.
In another moment Tommy himself entered the courtroom, led in by Sheriff Haynes. Tommy was dressed in his Sunday suit, and his hair was neatly brilliantined and combed. He didn’t look like Tommy at all. He looked small and helpless sitting at the table beside Evan. He glanced briefly at his mother and smiled, but his lips shook a little. He was very nervous, probably more at having to be the center of attention than he was at the prospect of hanging. He was so simple and harmless. How could anyone think he’d maliciously hurt anyone? All he wanted to do was fish and hunt in the outdoors he loved. He did not deserve any of this.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the bailiff ’s strong voice calling, “Order in the court!” He had to say this once more before the noise dwindled to a halt. Then he announced, “All rise for the Honorable Judge Lionel Olsen, circuit judge for the Fifth District.”
Maggie rose with the rest of the crowd, and for the first time that day, truly felt the seriousness of what was about to happen. She could not help being a little awestruck by the impressive presence of the man in a flowing black robe who strode to the raised bench at the front and took his seat. He looked like an Old Testament patriarch, perhaps Moses or Aaron. He even had a beard, though his was shorter than the long white beard she’d seen in Bible pictures. But his beard was almost as white, contrasting sharply with his shrewd black eyes. She had hoped for a benevolent grandfather type to be Tommy’s judge. This man was far from that. The words hanging judge popped into her mind. Not that she’d heard these applied to Judge Olsen, but he looked as if he could be such a one. Evan had said he was firm but fair, and she clung to that now, though her hands trembled as she clutched them together in her lap.
After everyone had been instructed to sit, Judge Olsen spoke. “Let us begin the proceedings in this action, the State of Oregon versus Mr. Thomas Donnelly.”
The judge introduced the lawyers and instructed them to begin the process of selecting the jury. Maggie realized then that many of the people in the spectator area were prospective jurors. Cranston rose and questioned the first juror, asking him his name and where he lived, if he knew Tommy, and if he could be fair and impartial. The man answered yes to all the questions. Cranston accepted the man.
Then it was Evan’s turn to question the man. As Evan rose, the hem of his jacket caught on a stack of papers sitting before him on the table. The papers were swept off the table, scattering all over the floor. Maggie saw red creep up Evan’s neck.
“I beg y-your pardon, Y-Your Honor!” he said, bending to collect the papers. Maggie saw his hands were trembling almost as much as hers.
“Bailiff, help Mr. Parker,” ordered the judge with a hint of disdain in his voice.
In a few moments the papers were back in place. Maggie hoped they weren’t immediately important because they were now totally out of order. She said a quick, silent prayer for Evan. Though she knew he was competent, she feared he’d lose what confidence he’d had before this small mishap. He approached the juror and questioned him in what appeared to Maggie to be an intelligent manner, despite his voice having started out more high-pitched than normal. Completing his questioning, Evan dismissed the man “for cause.” Maggie thought that was some kind of legal maneuver, probably a way for Evan to gain an upper hand in the proceedings, especially after his initial blunder.
One by one, additional people were called to the stand and questioned in the same manner as the first. Some people she knew; many were strangers. When they recessed for dinner at two in the afternoon, only five jurors had been selected. Evan had mentioned that the trial could go on for a few days, but she had never imagined just how tedious a process it was. She had been primed and ready to give her testimony. Now she probably wouldn’t be called till tomorrow or later. Her courage and resolve were already wavering.
Her parents had arranged for them to remain in St. Helens during the trial, staying with a cousin in town. Maggie thought at most it would be an overnight arrangement but now realized they might be here for days. She wished she’d brought more clothes.
They ate their midday meal with their cousins and then returned to the courtroom. Maggie had wanted to see Evan, but he had gone directly to the jail with Tommy and Mrs. Donnelly. Dad would not let her go there. She tried to argue that he’d let her go to the jail before, but he was adamant. She had a feeling he’d heard the most recent rumors about her and Tommy, so she did not press the issue.
The rest of the afternoon was spent choosing more jurors. Just ten had been chosen by the time the session adjourned for the day. This process would drag on for part of the day tomorrow, before the real trial could begin.
As they were exiting the courtroom, Maggie sidled up next to Tommy’s mother. “Mrs. Donnelly, are you staying here in town during the trial?”
“Yes. I’m at the boardinghouse.”
“Is Evan there, as well?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“No. He’s at the hotel.”
“Oh.” Maggie was disappointed to hear this. It would be inappropriate for her to visit him there. If he’d been at the boardinghouse, Mrs. Donnelly would be able to act as a chaperone. That did seem silly, considering all the times she’d been alone with Evan in the last weeks. But now it was different. He’d declared his love for her.
Perhaps Mrs. Donnelly, despite her own inner turmoil, had noted Maggie’s chagrin, because she went on to say, “Evan will be taking supper with me tonight at the boardinghouse. You may join us if you like.”
“I’d like that very much!” Maggie said enthusiastically, then was ashamed because this was too somber a time for such elation. Making her tone more in keeping with their austere surroundings, she added, “I wanted to discuss some matters with him regarding the trial. Did you know I am to be called as a witness for the prosecution?”
“Yes, I had heard. And don’t you worry. Tommy and I understand that you had no choice in the matter.”
“Do you know why I was called?”
“I can guess.” Mrs. Donnelly patted Maggie’s arm reassuringly. “You must do what you must do, dear. There will be no hard feelings.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Maggie confessed. “That’s why I need to see Evan. Well, one reason, at least.”
“We’ll have supper at eight.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Donnelly.”
Maggie’s parents weren’t happy about her declining to have supper with their relatives, who had been kind enough to open their home to the Newcombs. But they conceded the importance of her discussing her testimony with Evan. And Cousin Martha, a kindly woman some years older than Maggie’s parents, seemed to understand, as well.
Maggie thought she would simply burst with impatience for eight o’clock to arrive. She changed into the better of the two dresses she had brought. She fixed her hair by pinning the sides back and tying them with a ribbon into ringlets at the back of her head. She marveled at how adept she was becoming in fussing with her appearance. She marveled even more at why and for whom she was going to such trouble.
When she saw Evan in the boardinghouse parlor, a little thrill ran through her. Oh, for once in your life quit being silly! she silently chided herself.
Evan received her politely. He had just found out that she would
be joining them for supper. He did not appear angry with her, but his formality, which seemed more pronounced than his usual Boston manners, discomfited her.
They took supper at a large table with all the other residents. It was awkward at first because everyone wanted to talk about the trial, and they showed little regard for Mrs. Donnelly’s emotional state. Maggie was impressed by the way Evan stepped in immediately to quell the conversation.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “though we would like nothing more than to discuss the trial with you, we are forbidden to discuss it outside the court proceedings. However, I can offer you a few insights about another trial I am sure you have all heard of.” He then launched into a description of the trial of President Garfield’s assassin. This seemed to appease their hunger for sensationalism and take the focus off Tommy.
After supper, as Maggie exited the dining room with Evan and Mrs. Donnelly, she leaned toward Evan and said, “I wanted to talk to you about my testimony, but I guess I can’t if it is forbidden.”
He grinned and said in a voice only she and Mrs. Donnelly could hear, “I’m afraid I told a little fib. It’s only the jurors who are forbidden to discuss the trial. I figured no one else would know that.”
Mrs. Donnelly thanked him. Maggie smiled not only in response to his humor but because he seemed more relaxed, more the way he usually had been around her. She took courage from that. Perhaps he couldn’t stay angry at her just as she couldn’t stay angry with him.
Since many of the diners adjourned to the parlor for after-dinner conversation, Evan suggested that the three of them visit on the front porch. It was chilly outside and Maggie and Mrs. Donnelly had to don their wraps, but it was otherwise a pleasant night. The boardinghouse was off the main thoroughfare, on a quiet street away from the evening rowdiness of the three taverns. They visited for a short while. Then Mrs. Donnelly rose and, pleading fatigue, bid them good-night. Evan assured her he would walk Maggie home.
The previous awkwardness suddenly returned when Maggie and Evan were left alone. She searched in her mind for some way to break down the wall that had formed between them. Only an apology seemed appropriate, and while she was willing to take that step, she felt she’d been somewhat justified for her
“Evan—”
“Maggie—”
They both spoke at the same moment. They laughed together, and this made a small breach in the wall between them.
“Ladies first,” Evan said.
She wished he wasn’t so polite, such a gentleman, but that’s one thing she loved—liked!—about him, his slightly out of kilter demeanor.
“Okay,” she said with resolve. “I treated you badly the other day, Evan. I should never have become angry at you for defending me, and I certainly should never have met your . . . well, your words with silence.” As she spoke, she realized she had been entirely wrong, that her actions had not been justified. He’d acted with his usual consideration. “Evan, you are so dear and kind. You mean so much to me. You are—”
He jumped up from the wicker chair where he was seated adjacent to the settee upon which she sat.
“Don’t say it, Maggie!” he ordered. “Say anything but that.”
“I was only going to say you have become my dearest friend,” she replied, her brow knit, not understanding his response.
“Humph! Only one notch better than ‘like a brother’!” he snapped.
Of course! Now she remembered the words Tamara had used to reject him, and her heart sank. That is what she feared most—hurting him as Tamara had. Yet now it appeared there was nothing she could say to appease him—short of a profession of love, of course.
“Evan, sit down and compose yourself,” she gently chided. “Don’t you see what kind of position this leaves me in? You mustn’t be so intractable.”
“Do you think one rejection has made me more amenable to another?”
“I only know that your words came at me totally unexpected,” she said. “I had no chance to consider them, and in the last few days, though I have thought of little else, I am still confused. I have invested considerable time in my quest for Colby. Well, most of the time I just pined, as he barely knew I was alive. Then, in the last few weeks my hopes arose when he finally showed an interest in me—”
“Of course,” he cut in sharply, “you want to see how that plays out before you respond to me!” His tone came out bitterly sad.
“I don’t want Colby anymore!” Maggie admitted. “He finally showed his true colors to me, and I saw he is not a man I could admire or respect. Can you see how my emotions are now in complete disarray? I may not want Colby, but can you understand how hard it is for me to give up what I have long desired, or thought I desired?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“I do admire and respect you, Evan. You are the finest man I know. Is that love? I don’t know. I don’t know anything about love except that what I felt for Colby wasn’t love at all. That’s all I know. So I don’t know how to respond to you.”
He had resumed his seat, and now, at her eye level, he lifted his gaze to peer directly at her. “I think I am beginning to understand, Maggie. Forgive me for putting such pressure upon you. I will refrain from doing so in the future. In fact, let us agree that I will say no more of the matter. I will leave it to you whether to pursue or not pursue in your good time.”
“It hardly seems fair that it’s all up to me,” she protested, though she knew he was being extremely fair and patient. She thought of something else. “What do we do in the meantime? I hate this awkward formality between us.”
“I don’t like it either,” he replied, “but my words can’t be unsaid.” He paused thoughtfully. “Certainly we can call a truce of sorts. It won’t be too hard to slip back into our old comfortable habits, will it?”
“I guess we can try.” She held his gaze. All sorts of odd things were happening inside her, things that in the past had only happened when she looked at Colby. Now she knew such feelings were not love. Nevertheless, they still befuddled her mind!
“We’ll get a fresh start after the trial,” he said with an encouraging smile. “When our nerves are settled and Tommy is safe.”
“Okay. It’s a deal,” she said, trying to match his assurance.
“Now I best get you home. It is late.”
“I still need to talk to you about my testimony.”
“Shall we talk as we walk to your cousin’s house?”
She still felt the tension of past emotions between them but prayed that would diffuse with time. As they walked, she expressed her fears about her testimony.
“Maggie, I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of telling the truth on the stand,” he replied when she finished.
“Couldn’t I just say I don’t remember?”
“That would be a lie,” he replied unequivocally. “Let me put it this way. A lie will definitely hurt you. A person who commits perjury under oath can be imprisoned.”
“They wouldn’t!”
“You might escape such a punishment because of your tender years. But there would still be consequences, perhaps a stiff fine, which I doubt your parents could easily bear. And beside the consequences for you, think of Tommy. If you are discovered lying about him, it will only make him look that much more guilty. You must tell the truth.”
She felt he’d been able to read her intent, and she was glad it was too dark for him to see the guilt on her face.
“Tommy will hate me for betraying him,” she said miserably.
“After he is free, he won’t even give it a thought.”
Again Maggie found herself taking strength from his confidence.
TWENTY-SIX
Evan leaned against the wall in the alley behind the jail. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, yet he felt icy cold. His insides roiled. He’d already lost what little he’d been able to eat for breakfast and still felt like his seemingly empty stomach would expel even more.
With shaky hands he re
moved his precious pocket watch and saw that court would convene in a few minutes. The watch felt heavy in his hands, heavier than its gold plating accounted for. This watch represented his family’s pride and faith in him, while at the same time it seemed to mock him for his failure. How he had hoped that the weaknesses he’d experienced in Boston would not be repeated here. He’d tried to convince himself that he would feel more at ease in front of hometown folks. That was not to be.
Yesterday, before the trial had begun, he’d had to rush from the jail after seeing Tommy and making a hurried excuse to the boy and his mother. He’d barely made it to the privacy of the alley before his stomach heaved. He’d told himself then that it was just opening day jitters.
What was he to tell himself now? This was the second day of the trial.
He debated if he should tell his client about his weakness. Tommy and his mother might reconsider his capability to defend Tommy if they knew. But it would be horribly demoralizing for Tommy if the trial were postponed yet again. He and his mother were depending upon him.
His stomach lurched again, and he bent over just in time to avoid soiling his clothing. At least he knew how to vomit properly!
I also know the law! he argued with himself. I know how to try a case, and I have put together a very good case on Tommy’s behalf. The firm in Boston had wanted him before they had chanced upon him vomiting before a court appearance, and that only for a minor case the firm had felt a freshly minted lawyer could be entrusted with. He’d been so humiliated, he had avoided further courtroom appearances.
They were even willing to overlook his weakness because he was new and green. But he had known this was not the whole reason for his problem. He’d experienced it in school, as well, not only during moot court exercises but even for oral exams and such. Getting up in front of an audience simply made him sick, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d handled the problem at the Boston firm by quitting. It was obvious he wasn’t cut out for this. Perhaps he could specialize in legal areas that did not require courtroom appearances, such as estate or contract law.