The Advocate - 01 - The Advocate

by Teresa Burrell

  Sabre’s mouth felt dry. She reached for her glass of water and drank about half of it. Everyone waited in silence for her to continue. Finally, the doctor asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Sabre said. “That continued for months until one day I went to the park and she wasn’t there. When Carla realized he wasn’t going to return, she lost it. They institutionalized her for several months. When they determined she was harmless, they released her to live with her mother. When her mother died a few years ago, she came here. I would’ve taken her home with me, but I couldn’t give her the attention she needed.”

  Sabre took a deep breath to keep from hyperventilating. She hated that she couldn’t take Carla into her home. “I know Ron loved her, too. He needed someone special to settle him down and I think he found her in Carla. Ron’s charm beguiled the women. They swarmed around him, never leaving a shortage of dates on his social calendar, but when he met Carla everything changed. He stopped dating other women and gave all his attention to her. They seemed so happy. They laughed and played like two school kids.”

  Sabre stopped talking and sat there a minute reminiscing. A heavy silence filled the room until Bob spoke, “So Carla must have seen Dr. Steele and thought he was Ron. And when she ran through the halls looking for him, she yelled his name, ‘Ron, Ron,’ not ‘run, run.’”

  “Right.” Sabre turned to look at Dr. Steele again. With panic in her voice, she said, “And if she sees you again, she’ll have the same reaction. Look how I reacted and I don’t have nearly the problems Carla has. She can’t see you. She won’t understand. It’ll devastate her. You have to get out of here.” She stopped. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t tell you not to work here, but if you had seen what it did to her you’d understand.”

  Dr. Steele shook his head. “No, you’re right. We can’t let her see me right now. I’ll ask Dr. Hilton to finish the day for me, and then I’ll talk to Carla’s doctor about this to see what we should do.” He turned to Phyliss, “Will you please make sure Carla stays in her room for a few minutes? I’ll get my things and leave. We’ll work something out, but for today, I agree with Sabre. She doesn’t need to see me right now.”

  Phyliss left the room to check on Carla. Dr. Steele said goodbye, shook their hands, and turned to leave. Sabre held on to his hand well beyond the appropriate handshake. When she realized it she let go suddenly, but her eyes followed him until the door closed. Bob picked up Sabre’s briefcase, put his arm around her waist, and they walked to the car. “I’m frazzled,” Sabre said. “I’m sure glad you’re driving.”

  “Want me to take you home so you can rest?”

  “No, just take me back to the office. I have a lot to do, and hopefully it’ll keep me distracted. I’ll be fine once the shock wears off.”

  After thirty minutes in the office with nothing accomplished, Sabre decided she was wasting her time. She made one last attempt to reach Detective Carriage, leaving him a message to call her back, regardless of the time. Then she packed up and drove home.

  Feeling safe and comfortable in her condo, she warmed up a can of tomato soup, toasted a piece of bread, and sat down to a late lunch. She ate about a fourth of the soup and didn’t touch her toast. Eating seemed like too much work, so instead, she drew a nice warm bath, lit four aromatherapy candles, and shut off the bright lights. She soaked in the tub until the bubbles dissipated and the water cooled. Then she donned a light pair of sweats and lay down just to rest for a few minutes. The next morning arrived before she awakened.

  11

  When Sabre awakened, she thought she’d been dreaming about the man who so resembled her brother that she had insisted he show her his bare leg and prove he wasn’t sporting an hourglass-shaped birthmark. It didn’t take long for reality to set in and for the pain she experienced the day before to return. She shook it off. Too much work needed to be done to waste another day.

  In bright red numbers the digital clock by her bed read 5:10 a.m. She counted on her fingers, “6:10, 7:10, 8:10. Detective Carriage should be in,” she said as she dialed the phone.

  “It doesn’t sound to me like there is a Mattie Sturkey, and the first grader named Mattie doesn’t fit into the rest of Alexis’ story,” he said, after they had chatted for a few moments.

  “I’m surprised. Alexis sure sounded like she was talking about a real person. She rattled on for a long time about Mattie. You could see she really missed whoever she was talking about.”

  “Well, ma’am, let’s look at what she’s told you. Mattie is her best friend. They went to school together and had the same teacher. Mattie had a hearing problem, and so Alexis wanted to learn to sign in order for them to communicate. They played with Barbie dolls together outside the classroom. Mattie stayed at her house sometimes.”

  “But Alexis never stayed at hers,” Sabre added.

  “Perhaps that’s because she wasn’t real,” Carriage said, with a little sarcastic humor.

  “Maybe, but when she talked about Mattie her sadness was real, or she’s the best little ten-year-old actress I’ve ever seen.”

  “I agree with you. I’m thinking there is someone she knows who can’t hear and uses sign language because when she approached the speech teacher she wanted to learn to sign. And that was before she’d ever met the little first grader named Mattie, whom she tutored. Maybe she borrowed her name because of the similarities to her real friend.”

  “But why would she not tell me about her real friend if there is one? Why would she write her a letter? And why did she send it to her own address?”

  “I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to ask her or read the letter. Perhaps it will give you some clues.”

  “I’ll talk to Alexis, but I’m not going to read her letter. In fact, I’ll return it to her and see what she has to say about it. Maybe she’ll volunteer some information.”

  “Have you been able to reach Alexis’ grandmother?”

  “No, but I’ll keep trying.”

  “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you, ma’am, you be sure to let me know.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate all the effort you’ve made so far. It’s above and beyond the call of duty. Perhaps someday I can return the favor, Detective Carriage.”

  “Well, there is one thing you can do for me right now,” he said seriously.

  “I’d be glad to. What is it?”

  “Please, call me Joe,” he said in his strong, southern drawl. Sabre chuckled to herself at the way he said his name … Jo-wah. Her brother Ron used to say, “Only in the South is ‘Joe’ a two-syllable word.”

  “I’d be pleased, Joe,” she said his name with emphasis. “If you wouldn’t mind, my name is Sabre. I much prefer it over ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma’am … I mean Sabre. It’s a terrible habit I have, but I’ll work on it.”

  Later, as Sabre prepared for court, she tried to figure out the real deal with Alexis. It helped take her mind off Dr. Steele. Though certain in her mind he wasn’t her brother, her heart didn’t want to believe it. She missed Ron so much, and she had dreamed so many times of his just showing up somewhere suffering from a case of amnesia. In her fantasy, he’d be living nearby and she’d see him grocery shopping or buying gas for his car or some other normal routine activity. When he saw her, his memory would be jogged by her presence; he’d start to remember everything, and she’d suddenly get her brother and best friend back.

  Sabre’s busy morning in court kept her from thinking about anything else. She hustled from one courtroom to another, completing her calendar. She and Bob went to lunch at Pho’s since they had missed their chance the day before. Bob seemed to be trying to keep her distracted, but their conversation kept coming back to either Dr. Steele or the Murdock case.

  “We have the Murdock/Smith hearing on Monday. Do you know what position you’re taking yet?”

  “I’m not sure what to do,” Sabre said. She explained about Mattie, Alexis’ friend, the letter she had written, and what Detec
tive Carriage had discovered.

  “So are you going to read the letter?”

  “No, I can’t. I wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

  “I’d read the letter.”

  Sabre thought for a second, but she knew what she had to do. “I’m going to return the letter to her next time I see her. If she wants to tell me what’s in it, she will.”

  “I’d read the letter,” Bob repeated.

  “Well, it’s not as though she’s at immediate risk and the answer to her safety lay in the letter. In fact, I’m not sure she’s at risk at all, so unless something comes up between now and the hearing on Monday, Alexis may be going home with her father.”

  They returned to Sabre’s office. Bob went in with her. “Where’s your file on the Murdock/Smith case? I need to copy your report. I can’t find mine.”

  “You know, they have these little things called a ‘hole punch’ you can use to punch holes in your papers and then actually attach them inside your folder with an Acco fastener. And then your reports are inside the file when you need them. They work amazingly well. You might want to try it some time,” she teased Bob, as she handed him her well-organized, color-coded file.

  Bob went into the workroom to copy the report. When he returned, he slipped the papers into the empty folder Sabre had given him, thanked Sabre, and left.

  Sabre returned her phone calls and checked on Carla. Phyliss informed her Carla had improved, but was still pretty shaken up by the “Ron sighting.” Sabre left a message for Carla’s doctor to call when he arrived. She put a note in her own calendar to visit Carla on Saturday. She tried to catch up on the work piling up on her desk, but concentrating proved difficult at best. She couldn’t shake the vision of Dr. Steele’s face from her mind.

  Suddenly the phones became exceptionally active for a Friday afternoon. Sabre accomplished little else after two cases she had expected to settle fell apart, but it also kept her mind off Dr. Steele. After a few hours of finesse and negotiations, the crises appeared to be over. Sabre picked up the Murdock file, took out the letter, and, without reading it, went to see Alexis.

  When Sabre arrived at Jordan Receiving Home, Alexis and Jamie were waiting to see her. She met the children in the interview room. As usual, Alexis shared all of the Jordan gossip. She described the arrival of each new child and the departures and destinations of those leaving. She knew why every child was there and which little ones knew their ABCs. Her knowledge included who got along with whom and who didn’t. She told about Billy’s bloody nose and Ashley’s pierced tongue and green hair, and how Adam, one of the attendants, lost his temper and squeezed a kid’s arm and left a bruise. “He’s not coming back, though. I think he got fired,” Alexis said.

  Sabre enjoyed listening to Alexis’ stories. Not anxious to broach the subject of the letter, she let her go on talking. When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she removed the letter from her bag. “Alexis,” she said, “the letter you sent to Mattie came back to me.”

  Alexis looked at the letter and glanced down at her feet. With her head still down, she sighed, “Oh.”

  “The address was incorrect.” Sabre handed her the envelope. “I know the letter is open, but I didn’t read it. No one has. When mail comes into my office, my secretary opens it and then gives it to me to sort through and read. When I saw it, I put it in your file. I didn’t read it because it was a private letter from you to your friend and I didn’t have your permission. I apologize for it being opened, but I honestly have not read it.”

  “Okay,” Alexis said. Sabre didn’t know whether Alexis believed her or not, but she was glad she hadn’t read her personal letter.

  “Alexis, why did you mail it to your old address in Atlanta?”

  “Because she lived there.”

  “Who lived there?”

  “I did.”

  “But you said ‘she.’ Who is ‘she’?”

  “I did. I lived there. That’s all.”

  “Listen, honey …”

  “Don’t call me that,” Alexis snapped. “I told you not to call me that. I’m not ‘Honey.’ I’m not your honey. I’m not their honey. I’m not anybody’s honey,” she yelled as she stood up. She wiggled around and twisted her hands as she paced back and forth.

  “Alexis, I’m so sorry. I forgot you didn’t like to be called that. It’s a term I use a lot. I’ll try not to use it around you. Are you okay?”

  Alexis stared into Sabre’s eyes. Her expression screamed for help, but Sabre didn’t have a clue what to do for her. Alexis reached up to wipe her face with the back of her hand, but not before Sabre detected a teardrop running down her cheek. Abruptly, like a salamander changing colors with his surroundings, her demeanor changed and she started to chatter.

  “Come on Jamie, we need to go now. It’s almost suppertime. We need to get back so we don’t miss supper.” She looked up at Sabre. “Jamie needs to eat so he can stay healthy. We’re having macaroni and cheese, fruit, and chips tonight. And we’ll have orange sherbet for dessert. I like macaroni and cheese. I hope the fruit is peaches. I like the peaches. Jamie likes them, too. Sometimes they have fruit cocktail. That stuff’s nasty.” Alexis babbled, slipping more and more into her comfort zone. Sabre knew to stop pushing; she only hoped she hadn’t gone too far already.

  She walked Sabre and Jamie back to the front desk and rang for the attendant who came right out. Alexis turned to Sabre, her mouth turned up almost in a smile. “Good night, Miss Sabre. Please do come again.”

  12

  Gaylord Murdock arose early Saturday morning so he could put his things away in his newly rented apartment. It felt good to be out of the hotel and to have his own place. Planning to have Alexis home on Monday, he wanted her room ready for her. There would be no more visiting her at a facility where someone monitored every conversation. The court had ordered supervised visitation, but Monday that should all change. He was sure of it. He knew they had nothing on him and Alexis would come home, maybe even Jamie, too.

  He scurried about, readying the apartment for the social worker to evaluate. Although the apartment rented as “furnished,” it contained minimal furniture: a sofa and chair in the living room, a little dinette with four chairs in the dining room, and in each bedroom a full-size bed and chest of drawers. The old, unstable furniture felt like a cheap hotel. Gaylord longed for the beautiful antiques he had grown up with, but he could get by in this temporary situation since he didn’t plan to stay around long. Once he had Alexis, his attorney said it wouldn’t take long to gain custody of Haley, the baby. When he had both of his daughters, he’d leave this awful place. California had been nothing but trouble.

  At 10:01 a.m. Marla knocked on his door. Gaylord was pleased she arrived at the scheduled time. On previous meetings, she’d been from ten minutes to an hour late, a habit for which he had little tolerance.

  “Good morning, Marla,” Gaylord greeted her, as he opened the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He smiled, and made a slight bow and a hand gesture indicating she should enter.

  Marla returned his smile. “Good morning, Gaylord. How are you this morning?”

  “I’m well,” he said, “but I’ll be even better when I have my babies back home with me. Thanks so much for coming out on a Saturday to evaluate the apartment. I’m sure you have plenty of other things you’d rather be doing today.”

  “It’s not a problem. I’d just be working in my office, playing catch-up as usual.”

  Marla set her briefcase on the dinette table, opened it up, and took out a notepad to take notes. “Do you mind if I just look around?”

  “Not at all. Is there anything you need me to show you? What can I do? Oh, where are my manners? Grandma Murdock is probably turning over in her grave at my lack of southern hospitality. May I get you a cup of coffee or maybe some lemonade?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve just never done anything like this before. I don’t know what I’m
supposed to do, and I want everything to be right so I can get my babies home.”

  “You’re doing fine. Just relax. I’m going to look around, take some notes, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time. You’re welcome to stay here or follow along. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Thank you,” he said, a little relieved. Marla chuckled. Gaylord thought she acted a little giddy around him. He watched as she looked around the combined living room and the dining area. “I know there isn’t much in here, only the furnishings that came with the apartment, no pictures on the walls, no television or stereo. I didn’t bring much across country with me. I plan to get some pictures to decorate the walls, but I’m waiting for Alexis to help. I don’t see a need for a television, though. People spend too much time in front of the TV. I’d rather we spent our time together as a family.”

  Gaylord followed Marla as she entered the master bedroom. It had the same sparse furnishings with no decorations or wall coverings. Gaylord had cleaned the room before she came and covered the bed with a blanket. He had made Alexis’ room, however, look homier. He’d covered the bed with a pale pink bedspread and propped her floppy, brown, stuffed puppy between two pillows. The many hours of cuddling this once fluffy ball of fur had created mats from head to toe. Marla walked over to the bed and picked him up. The fur was so matted around the eyes just a hint of dark brown came through, but his little black, plastic nose sat prominently on his endearing face. The leather patches on the bottom of his feet indicated his worth. When Marla hugged him he flopped around her neck, appearing to hug back.