Just Destiny

by Theresa Rizzo

  Jenny suddenly felt lightheaded with relief, but one look at his sober face reminded her that her friend was hurting. No wonder he’d been so subdued. Selfishly wrapped up in her own pain, she’d that assumed Steve was grieving for Gabe, when the truth was he’d suffered a more personal blow.

  She scrambled for something appropriate to say when she really wanted to know all the nitty-gritty details. Who broke up with whom? When? How? She hoped Steve had done the breaking up, though either way hurt. “I’m sorry. I know how attached you were to her kids.”

  “Yeah. They’re great little guys. It’s not really fair to them.” He blew out a deep breath and looked at her. “I thought you’d be thrilled—you never liked Annie.”

  “I—” she wanted to deny it, but he would know better—“I want you to be happy. I want you to experience what Gabe and I had.”

  “Yeah, well, we might not have been a perfect fit, but I really thought we could make it work.” Steve looked at her. “Great relationships don’t have to be like yours and Gabe’s. Love looks different on different people.”

  Thinking about her parents and other happily married couples she knew, Jenny pursed her lips and nodded. She had to give him that one. “You okay?”

  “I’ve had better Christmases.” He lifted a corner of his lip in a little smile.

  “Amen to that.” Jenny searched for a happier topic of conversation. “Gianna told me they collected twenty-five thousand dollars in Gabe’s fund. Joe and Gianna suggested investing it in prenatal education or updating the clinic’s trauma equipment. What do you think?”

  “Either sounds worthy. Gabe would have appreciated it.”

  “You know,” her voice lowered, confiding. “Some days I forget. I know it’s silly, but I feel terrible for forgetting him for even a day.”

  “It’s natural. Maybe that’s why I got that,” he nodded at the music box and photo. “I don’t want to forget.”

  She brightened. “Exactly. But then something sets me off. Last week I got the most touching letter from the man who received Gabe’s heart. The Organ Donor society forwarded it to me. Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t, because these people are so damn grateful and their stories are so touching that it makes me feel guilty I didn’t want to donate his organs.

  “This man was only thirty-five-years old and his own heart had been destroyed by some virus. He’d been on the waiting list for three years and was losing hope, spending more time in the hospital than outside.” She ran across the room, pulled the letter from the bombay chest drawer, and handed it to Steve. “He’s got two little girls—aren’t they precious?”

  Steve scanned the letter and looked at the family picture. “You’re a special lady.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one.” She tucked the letter away carefully. “This is the fifth letter I’ve received. These people live through hell. Every time I feel sorry for myself, I read one of these letters and I feel so fortunate.”

  Unable to argue that, they fell into a companionable silence, watching the snow fall.

  Chapter 18

  The only thing Jenny dreaded more than being late was arriving late and sweaty. Just gonna have to take that chance, Jenny thought as she power-walked through the cold January day.

  She rushed past a huge bronze statue of a muscular near-naked guy in an impossible yoga-pose, holding a shiny golden sun in one hand and mini people in the other, into the Coleman Young Municipal Center. She probably should know the story behind that statue—undoubtedly it had a real name. She’d check it out on her way home, but right now she wasn’t entirely sure of where she was going and she was late.

  After asking directions from a guard, she took the elevator to the tenth floor and the appropriate courtroom. An iron-haired older lady carrying a generic brown leather briefcase immediately approached her. Smiling, she held out her hand. “Jenny, I’m Helen Johnson. It’s nice to finally put a face to your name and voice.”

  Jenny shook her hand. Slightly rounded, with a no-nonsense walk and handshake, Helen wore an expensive navy tailored suit with a colorful cloisonné frog pin—impeccable taste. Jenny got a warm and fuzzy feeling from her, grandmotherly like, and worried if she could be tough enough. She instantly felt comfortable with Helen, so hopefully that was a good sign.

  “There’s no need to be nervous. This is just a pretrial hearing. He is going to fix the date for the trial,” Helen explained.

  “He? My judge is a woman. Christina somebody-or-other.”

  “She was appointed to the appellate court. Apparently Judge Limber retired and recommended her. Andrew Delaney is the new judge presiding over our case.”

  Judge Limber? Could that be George’s friend he was always bragging about? “Isn’t that rather sudden? I mean, I would have thought something like that would have been executed more slowly.”

  Helen shrugged and settled in her seat. “I guess he had some health problems that worsened.”

  “I’ll bet.” Jenny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at George, lounging comfortably with his attorney, looking for all the world like he was a Wednesday regular here. She looked around the courtroom, intimidated by the formal surroundings. “Why are we in here? Last time we met in the judge’s chambers.”

  Helen patted her hand. “It’s all right; some judges prefer the formality of the courtroom. They’re paranoid about being accused of shady dealings going on in chambers, so they have everything out in public. Or if a judge has a heavy schedule, he’ll often fit these hearings in here rather than run back and forth between his chambers and court.”

  “All rise, Honorable Judge Andrew Delaney presiding,” the bailiff called out in a bored voice. Jenny stood. Mouth dropping open, she nearly flopped back in her seat when the judge entered the room.

  “That can’t be the judge,” she whispered. “He’s my age.”

  Andrew Delaney had a long, smooth face—too smooth. Was he even old enough to shave? Not a hair out of place, he was impeccably groomed from what she could see beyond his black robe. He couldn’t have been long out of law school. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Great. Just great. How could some hotshot, bachelor judge sympathize with her?

  Before Helen could reply, the judge sat and fixed steady brown eyes on them. “Is there a problem, counselor?”

  “No, Your Honor.” Helen tugged Jenny down into her seat.

  With raised eyebrows, he stared a minute longer before turning back to his open case folder. “Very well then. Bailiff read the docket, please.”

  “Harrison versus Turner. Are all parties present?”

  “We are,” the attorneys said.

  The judge looked at each party. “Taking into account the unusual nature of this suit, I’d think ninety days should be long enough to get your expert witnesses and prepare.”

  George’s attorney stood. Or one of them stood. For the first time, Jenny noticed that a chic-looking young brunette had joined George and his attorney. All of a sudden he needed two attorneys? Were they trying to intimidate her with this show of power?

  The woman addressed the judge. “Excuse me, Your Honor. Due to the lack of precedents, we’re going to have to rely heavily on witnesses to discover the decease’s exact intent, and this will take time.”

  The judge consulted his calendar. “Sixteen weeks from today is April twenty-third. The final pretrial conference will be May eighth. That should give you plenty of time for depositions. If anything comes up in the interim, file a motion.” He picked up the gavel and pounded it, signaling their departure.

  Jenny rose, confused. “That’s it? That’s all there is to it?”

  “That’s it. Now the work comes. Since I don’t have an office, do you want to go back to your house or work at mine?”

  “Mine.”

  Jenny led the way home, immersed in uneasy feelings. A male judge? A handsome, single guy. What bad luck. She’d bet her last dollar luck had nothing to do with it. George was already playing dirty. Did Jenny’s sweet-looking grandma lawyer ev
en know how to play dirty?

  At home, she put on a pot of coffee as Steve came in the back door. “Hi, Jen. Helen, how’d it go?”

  Jenny looked up in surprise. “What’re you doing here? It’s only three.”

  “What’s to do?” Helen shrugged. “Trial’s set for May tenth.” She smiled warmly and pulled Steve to her for a hearty hug. “It’s good to see you, kiddo. You get handsomer and handsomer. Lawyering must agree with you.”

  Jenny could swear Steve blushed. “You need to put on your glasses, lady.”

  These two certainly were chummy. “What’re you doing here?”

  He smiled and sat in the chair next to Helen. “Just checking on you.”

  “Change your mind?” Helen asked, hopeful.

  “Nope.”

  “You’d be a big help.”

  Steve reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “Sorry.”

  “How about doing some research on the side?”

  “Nope. Sorry.” He didn’t sound in the least bit sorry. In fact, he sounded rather carefree, as he sat in her kitchen, munching the cookies she’d baked that morning to wear off nervous energy before the hearing.

  Helen turned to Jenny. “I wanted Steve to take the case and I would second chair. Having a young, single male arguing your case would be better for you from a psychological standpoint. But he flat-out turned me down. So we’ll have to make do with things the way they are.”

  “And I told her that I’m not experienced enough. I’ve only tried eight cases—and I lost one.” Steve pushed back in the chair to balance on the two rear legs. “So how’d it go?”

  “They switched judges on me,” Jenny complained. “At the pretrial, I’d been assigned this nice lady judge, then today we found she’d gotten a promotion because an appellate judge suddenly decided to retire—and he recommended her as his successor. And our new judge, this Delaney guy, is some single stud barely out of law school. Annnd,” she drew out, “the judge that retired is a fishing buddy of George’s. Coincidence? I think not.”

  “So you think that George’s fishing buddy rearranged his career and retirement just to help a friend and to spite you?” Steve asked.

  When put that way, Jenny felt a little silly.

  “Though I’ll admit that you’d probably have had a better chance with a female judge.” He turned to Helen. “You could file a motion for judicial recusal.”

  “That would just antagonize Judge Delaney. It would draw more press and word would get out that we’re difficult.” Helen looked pensive. “We’ll do okay with Delaney.”

  “Probably. You’ll need to offer indisputable proof of Gabe’s intent. And you’ve got the ace right here.” Steve lowered the chair and reached for another cookie. “They’d been trying to have a baby—Jenny, in fact, had been pregnant, at the time of Gabe’s accident.” He looked at her. “Right?”

  Jenny nodded.

  * * *

  Great, she was their trump. Weeks later, Steve’s words still haunted Jenny. Her lie was their ace. Just great. She might not have to lie. They might assume she and Gabe had planned the baby she miscarried. But if they didn’t, could she lie? Convincingly?

  Jenny sat on their bed, struggling to remember how that conversation by the lake had gone. Maybe if she could remember exactly what Gabe had said and how he’d said it, she’d convince herself that had he known about the baby, he would have wanted it and, in fact, been happy about her pregnancy, and that would justify the lie. Nobody knew the truth but her. The only glitch was her conscience.

  Jenny leaned against the brass headboard and drew her legs up to her chest. That morning by the lake, Gabe had been so quiet and introspective she knew he’d given the decision a lot of thought. And she’d honestly thought he’d tell her no—which he initially had.

  Then he’d come up with that stupid compromise that had infuriated her—which shouldn’t have angered her since she was already pregnant. It was the motive beneath the compromise that upset her so. If she’d held her temper and not allowed hurt feelings to swell out of proportion, Gabe would be alive today.

  He hadn’t been dead set against the idea of a baby, but he’d hardly been enthusiastic. He’d specified no artificial help in getting pregnant, proving he really hadn’t wanted a child. O-r…maybe he was a purist, wanting to leave it completely up to fate. In which case he would have embraced her pregnancy, knowing she’d gotten pregnant despite using protection, she thought with growing elation.

  Unless he thought she’d gotten pregnant on purpose. Perhaps he specified no assisted conception because he’d been worried about multiple births. Twins or more would have been a lot to handle, she admitted. That must be why he came up with the all-natural stipulation.

  She smiled and rested her chin on her knees. They’d loved each other; he would’ve been happy about the baby. If only she’d told him. If she’d told him, they wouldn’t have argued and she wouldn’t have run off and Gabe wouldn’t have been killed. They’d have celebrated with a romantic dinner, instead of living a nightmare. After the shock wore off, Gabe would’ve been happy about the baby. She knew he would. The phone beside her rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. What’ve you been up to?” Steve asked.

  “Not much. Working. Went to Ann Arbor and took Alex and Ted to dinner last weekend; that was fun. Mom’s coming over next week on her day off to help me go through Gabe’s stuff, but other than that, not much. What about you?”

  “Work. Estate and tax planning.” He sounded as if it were deadly boring work. “I need a vacation.”

  “Poor baby. Aren’t you the guy who used to complain you never had any work?”

  “Interesting work, Jen. Interesting,” he emphasized. “What’dya say we take the afternoon off tomorrow and play hooky? We could go to lunch, go bowling, a movie, window-shopping, whatever. I could use a break.”

  “Sounds great, but I can’t tomorrow. I’ve got a one o’clock deadline and a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No. I’m seeing a fertility specialist to check out in vitro fertilization.”

  “Creating embryos?”

  She heard the pause before his carefully worded question. She was expecting his pessimism, yet he cared enough to find her a lawyer and he was her friend, so she was willing to share this information with him. She pushed the covers aside and scooted down in the bed. “It may be the best way to get pregnant.”

  “Before you do anything, you’d better talk to Helen. Creating embryos is probably a whole different ballgame in court. The storing of sperm is different than embryos. It’s a human rights argument that might really complicate your case—even jeopardize it. You don’t want to do anything before you actually win in court.”

  “Check with Helen before even exploring pregnancy options? Are you kidding me?” When had her attorney become her guardian?

  “Not if you want to win.”

  “Chill out, Grant. I’m just gathering information while I’m waiting.”

  “Okay,” he said, sounding relieved. “So, how about tomorrow night? Want to catch a movie?”

  “What? Tired of your own company already?” she teased. “It’s only been a month.”

  “A little.” He sounded sheepish. “It’s quiet without the kids.”

  That she could believe. A movie at night sounded a bit like a date, but Steve was always good company and needed a distraction. Being single was lonely. It took some getting used to.

  “Come on. It’ll be your good deed for the week.”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “Great. Check the paper and let me know what, when, and where, and I’ll pick you up.”

  “What do you want to see?”

  “Action or comedy. Something to get my mind off things.”

  “’Kay. Text you tomorrow.”

  “’Night.”

  Steve dropped the phone into the cradle and pushed back in his lounge chair, exhaling loudly. “What’r
e you doing, Grant?”

  When Jenny first passed up his offer to the afternoon off, he’d pressed until she’d agreed to go out with him. Pressed too hard? Things had been good between them lately. It’d taken them four months to get beyond the awkwardness of the night they’d spent together, to form a new bond. A new silken link, thin, pure, and strong.

  He was perversely tempted to get involved in Jenny’s case. He was good in court but couldn’t help worrying that if he helped with her case and they lost, she’d blame him. Being brutally honest with himself, he wasn’t ready for a case of this magnitude and exposure. And he was too emotionally involved to do a good job. Plus he still wasn’t convinced she was right. If it’d been him married to Jenny and he died, the more he thought about it, the more he was inclined to believe he wouldn’t want her to have his baby.

  If he died, he’d be in a better place, waiting, watching over her. He’d want Jenny to get on with her life. He’d want her to find another good man who would love and cherish her—someone she could share herself with. He’d want her to start fresh.

  Jenny had a tremendous capacity to love, and he wouldn’t want to see this hampered by an obsession to hang onto him by fixating on having their baby. Besides, raising a child alone was difficult. His sister did it because she had to—Ralph left her. But to choose to do it alone to memorialize your dead husband wasn’t a good enough reason to put either Jenny or a baby through those long years of additional stress. It might work out just fine, but he wouldn’t choose it for her. However it wasn’t his decision; it was Jenny’s. As much as it went against his every instinct, he had to respect her feelings.

  * * *

  “Jenny, are you sure Ted wouldn’t want any of his father’s things?” Holding up a couple of silk ties, her mom left Gabe’s closet. “A few ties? A sweater? The sweaters are still in very good shape.”