by Emery, Lynn
“Savannah, you’ve got to watch your back twenty-four seven girlfriend. I’m telling you this witch is serious about taking you out.” Charice sat down hard.
“Um-hum. Maybe we better get going, Charice.” Rodney, who had been sitting quietly through their exchange, startled them. They had almost forgotten he was present.
“Sam’s not back yet.” Charice handed Savannah a glass of water.
“So what? Look, it’s late, I’m tired. Let’s go. Hope you feel better, Savannah.”
“But we were going to follow them back home,” Charice argued with him as they went through the door. With a resigned wave, she followed him out.
“Why didn’t you tell me about what’s been going on?” Paul glared at Savannah, his voice harsh with reproach.
“Because, it’s my problem. There wasn’t anything you could do anyway.”
“Maybe not, but if you’re in trouble I want to face it with you. Promise, if anything else happens you’ll tell me, okay?”
“Promise. Now let’s see if we can give you a happy face.” Savannah put her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead.
“I mean it; tell me if anything else happens.” Paul tried to sound stern but her lips brushing his face softly melted any attempts to sound tough.
“You’ve got it. I feel revived knowing you’re in my corner, you big strong man.” Savannah hammed it up with a high pitched simper.
“Joke if you want, but—” He found her mouth more inviting than trying to finish his sentence.
“You know, I’m not so much scared now as I am angry. I don’t care if it’s LaShaun or whoever; I am not going to let them get to me. I’m going to help the people get their concerns about the plant heard, and I am going to go on with my life in Beau Chene. To hell with them.”
“Hey, now. Break it up cause I’m back. Where is Charice?” Sam banged in unzipping his black leather jacket.
“She left. With her date, Rodney. You remember Rodney?” Savannah needled him.
“Right. The guy who wore that sucking on a lemon expression every time she tried to have a good time.”
“I think they make a real handsome couple. So does Paul. Wasn’t that what you said earlier, Paul? How good Charice and Rodney look together.” Savannah poked him in the ribs.
“Will you cut it out,” Paul mumbled.
“Whatever, if that’s what she wants. Ain’t my concern.” Sam spread his hands as if dismissing the subject. He lifted his eyebrows in disdain. “I’ve got several honeys to occupy my attention. You two going to stay here or what?” Sam stood at the door.
“We’re heading back home.” Paul looked at Savannah as she rose to stand beside him. His arm still encircled her as if to ward off harm.
“Goodbye, Sam. I feel like we’ve been buddies for a long time even though we just met.” Savannah pecked his cheek.
“Take care of yourself. See you, my brother.” Sam grabbed Paul’s hand.
The ride to Beau Chene was silent, but it was an easy silence. Savannah sat close to Paul, her hand on his thigh. Music from the radio combined with the glow from the dash board lights to make the car a cozy romantic world with only the two of them. Words were not necessary. Content with this new intimacy, Savannah rested her head on Paul’s shoulder.
“Say sleeping beauty, we’re home.” Paul whispered.
“Humm. Already? Goodness, I didn’t think I was tired.”
“You forget we’ve been up and going since six this morning.”
“This is my house.” Savannah wore a disappointed expression.
“I thought you might want to go straight to bed.”
“I do.” Pressing herself to him, she used her tongue to part his lips.
Without any more discussion, Paul put the car in gear and headed for his trailer.
*****
After the hoopla that surrounded the beginning of the trial, the public quickly lost interest in the long technical explanations and dry legal wrangling, most of which they didn’t understand. In the third week of the trial, the audience had dwindled by two-thirds. Even the few reporters left were obviously bored stiff by most of what they heard.
“It’s funny, but everything going on now is the meat of what will persuade the jury the fate of the plant, jobs, and even the environment around here. But hardly anybody shows up to hear what’s being said.” Gralin Mencer looked around the courtroom over the top of his glasses. The heavy black frames made him look more like a school principal dissatisfied with his pupils than an attorney.
“Don’t be fooled, Gralin. Miss Lucille has been here every day. She is interpreting all this for most of the folks in Easy Town. They know exactly what’s being said and why.” Without looking up from the stack of organized and neatly typed notes in front of her, Savannah jerked a thumb towards the benches behind them.
Gralin turned to find Miss Lucille smiling at him like she knew exactly what they were saying. She waved as if to confirm what Savannah had just told him.
“I should have known. Nothing important affecting Black folks in this parish has happened in the last fifty years that Miss Lucille hasn’t been part of a big way,” Gralin said as he returned her greeting with a respectful nod.
“And you can bet that if she wasn’t happy with the way this case is being handled, you’d have heard about it.”
“Good morning.” Simmons opened his briefcase with a loud snap after twirling the combination locks. Without comment, the tall red-haired attorney from the Dallas office location of the Department of Environmental Protection got right to work.
“Good morning.” Gralin began passing him sheets of paper. Savannah smiled at the way the northerner skipped the southern custom of exchanging niceties before business.
“I think we will be wrapping up the first phase soon. We’ve got three witnesses left to call. I saved the most powerful, in terms of the impact I think their testimony will have, for the end of this part. We will need it to counteract their star witness… Paul Honorè.” Simmons read his name from a note-pad in front of him.
“Do you really think his testimony is that critical?” Savannah shifted a little uncomfortably in the hardwood chair next to Gralin.
“He’s done a pretty thorough assessment, he’s got great credentials, a lot of experience, and he’s African-American. What do you think?”
“Gentlemen, Ms. St. Julien.” Devin strolled in, the picture of relaxed confidence. His smile for Savannah seemed to hint at a special intimacy between them. He turned to follow her gaze.
“Hi,” Savannah answered curtly, acutely aware that Paul had entered the court room and was headed their way.
“I hope we can get together again before I leave. The other night was like old times. Oh hello, Honorè. Let me just review a few points with you for clarification.” Devin drew him aside.
Savannah tried to focus on the conversation between Gralin and Simmons. Finally she gave in to the irresistible urge to look over her shoulder. Paul was listening to Devin, even answering his questions, yet his eyes were on her. From the set of his jaw, she had no doubt that he had heard Devin’s well-timed comment. When he didn’t return the small wave she gave him, a tiny flutter of anxiety started in the pit of her stomach. As the judge entered, Savannah and Gralin moved to sit directly behind Simmons in the spectator section. Watching him from the corner of her eye, Savannah tried to convince herself that the grim expression Paul wore was nervousness about his testimony. For three hours or more, Devin led a defense witnesses through a meticulous description of the procedures used by the plant to assure all hazardous wastes and the aggregate meet regulations. A chemist employed by Batton Chemical, began to wind up his explanation of the production procedures before the aggregate leaves the plant.
“So, Mr. Fielding, this material is put through five separate tests?” Devin, one hand resting on the wooden rail surrounding the jury box, scanned their faces before turning back to the chemist.
“Yes, including certification fro
m an independent laboratory,” Fielding said.
“Thank you, sir. No more questions for this witness. I would like to call Mr. Paul Honorè to the stand, your honor.” Devin went back to consult his notes while Paul was being sworn in by the bailiff.
Devin had Paul describe his qualifications, educational background, and experience to establish him as an expert witness.“Now, Mr. Honorè, what were your findings?”
“I found the procedures being used to be in compliance with industry standards. All state and federal guidelines have been met.”
“Did you identify any areas that needed improvement?”
“Yes. Mr. Singleton and Mr. Trosclair followed each of my recommendations for improvements.” Paul gestured past Devin.
Savannah was surprised to find that both were seated across the aisle from her. For the first time in years, she was seeing Claude Trosclair up close. He was the same, immaculately dressed and composed. He favored her with a gracious smile, as if to say there was no reason they could not be cordial even if they were opponents. Not to be outdone, Savannah returned his greeting.
“What has hampered their attempts to meet all of these regulations?”
“Some of the state regs conflict with the federal regs. At one point the state officials with the Department of Environmental Quality disagreed with the feds on the permit procedures.”
“Thank you, Mr. Honorè, please sum up your conclusions for the court.” Devin stopped halfway to his seat to face Paul again.
“Mr. Trosclair and Mr. Singleton have worked closely with their staff to insure that the aggregate is treated correctly. The findings in other sites where it has been used suggests that the product is safe for certain uses.”
“Thank you very much.” Devin sat down with a self-satisfied grin.
Simmons handled his redirection skillfully forcing Paul to admit that no long-term studies on environmental impact had been done, therefore the full effects of the aggregate not known. Still, Paul’s testimony had been effective. He appeared calm and confident in his findings. Savannah fidgeted for the next hour, impatient for court to be adjourned for the day. Simmons called the first of his witnesses, a metallurgical engineer. Anyone observing her would have sworn she was intent upon the technical detail being provided by the witness. But Savannah’s thoughts were across the aisle. Glancing sideways several times she noted how chummy Paul seemed to be with Trosclair.
“Your gentleman friend seems to genuinely believe that Trosclair has the community welfare in mind. I was watching the faces of the jurors, especially the Black ones. He made some good points.” Gralin leaned close to whisper softly.
Savannah nodded still looking ahead. She had to admit he was right. What she couldn’t understand was why. Why was he so intent on painting a picture of Trosclair as concerned citizen?
“We can only hope the folks who have lived in these parts for a while remember some of the misdeeds he’s committed over the years.” Gralin sat back.
Leaving the court room, Savannah started towards Paul then hesitated when she realized he was standing between Trosclair and Singleton. They began walking out together. Savannah moved quickly to catch them.
“Excuse me, hello.” Savannah gave a curt greeting to the other two men.” Paul, may I speak to you a moment?” she said in a low tight voice. Savannah tried to will him away from the others. If only they had time to talk.
“Ms. St. Julien isn’t it? How nice to finally meet you. My but I haven’t seen you since you were little girl. Now you’re a respected attorney I understand.” Claude, suave as ever, intercepted her attempt to move Paul away from them.
“Yes, thank you. Paul, please. It will only take a second.” Savannah’s voice was desperate. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Devin striding in their direction. Stubbornly, Paul made not the slightest move to follow her.
“Ah, Martin. Doing a fantastic job. No disrespect, Miss.” Singleton gave Devin a bone shaking slap on the back.
“Yes.” Devin gave him a tiny condescending smile. “I didn’t do it alone though. Honorè here was a very effective witness today. Why hello, Savannah.” Devin stepped close to her.
“Paul and I—” Savannah put a hand on Paul’s arm. Dread for the inevitable scene filled her. She had to have time alone to explain.
“And your statements about how Mr. Trosclair has personally involved himself in making sure all standards are met, well it was priceless.” Devin beamed at Paul.
“Thank you.” Paul stared at some distant point just over Devin’s shoulder.
“How’ve you been, sweet. Let’s have dinner later. Mr. Trosclair told me about this wonderful restaurant in Lafayette right on Bayou Vermillion. It’s called Le Maison des Amis, pick you up around six?” Devin gave the impression that they had all but planned to see each other regularly while he was in town.
“No, Devin. Paul and I planned—” Savannah shot an anxious glance at Paul. She shrank back at bitter glint his eyes as he turned on her.
“No we don’t.” Paul cut her off. “You’re free to do whatever you like.”
“Could I speak to you privately please, excuse us.” Savannah fought to control her temper. He followed outside. They stood away from the crowd behind one of the large white columns that stood so imposingly at the courtroom entrance.
“What is it?” Paul would not look at her.
“Look, Devin and I had dinner once. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t get him to talk about the case very much. He made some lame excuses for the way he treated me at the firm, and then took me home.”
“Your place or his?”
“Mine damn it. What is your problem?” Savannah forced him to look at her.
“My problem? You went behind my back while I was out of town, that’s my problem. If there was nothing to it, why then? And why go to some out of way place?”
“I only wanted to get a hint at his strategy, that’s all there was to it.” Savannah looked away. She searched for a way to justify not telling him about having dinner with Devin.
“Uh-hum, I notice you didn’t answer my questions. Just to get information. huh? Real cool little number, switching your attention to whomever whenever it suits your purpose. Okay, so maybe you were only trying to milk him for information. Maybe that’s what you’ve been doing with me, too.” Paul’s voice was hoarse with emotion.
“Just who the hell do you think you are talking to me like this!” Savannah faced him, feet planted apart.Her anger returned full force. His accusation cut her like a knife. How could he say such a thing to her? First his fawning, self-serving testimony to help Trosclair and now implying she had prostituted herself to get information from him. Once again, someone she let get too close turned on her. The image of a warm, caring man she wanted to have in her life vanished. In it’s place, Savannah saw a calculating man thwarted in his attempts to enrich himself at the expense of others.
“The way you were coaching me on how to testify. Did you go back and tell Martin which weak spot to go for once I got on the stand? I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“Well excuse me for not being a Batton Chemical fan like you. Of course, I don’t have a lucrative contract hanging in the balance.”
“I am sick of you insulting my integrity. Especially considering the stunt you pulled with Devin. At least you’ve always known where I stood.” Paul gripped her forearm.
“Sure, we all knew. Sell out the poor Black folks; sure let them die of toxic poison. What do you care? You’ll get your money and move on. Take your hands off me.” Savannah snatched her arm free.
“Let me tell you something—” Paul hissed, his voice shook with outrage.
“No, let me tell you something. You can go to hell!” Savannah stepped away from him. “If I never see your sorry ass again, it will be one day too soon!”
Chapter 10
Savannah stood at the front counter staring out at the beautiful late March morning. Sunshine cast a lovely yellow wash over the scene. Tiny sparr
ows whirled in and out of tree branches, their air ballet given a perfect back drop by the blue sky with its fluffy white clouds. This was the kind of day that could usually bring her out of the darkest frame of mind. But for the last two hours the beauty before her had no effect. It had been three weeks since that awful fight with Paul. They had spoken only once two days later. There was still bitter metallic taste in her mouth from the cold words they had exchanged.
“I think we’ve said all we should say to each other.” Savannah had cut off his hello on the phone before he could finish his sentence.
“I was only calling to say I left some of your things at your house. Your aunt was home.” Paul had spoken with a clipped tone.
“Fine.” Savannah replaced the receiver with a firm bang.
Those words had been in her head since then. Though she had constantly told herself that she was right, that thought did nothing to make her feel better.
“Maybe some music will help.”
Savannah switched to a classical music station. She was taking no chances on hearing a mournful love song to plunge her deeper into depression. The soft strains of a Tchaikovsky piano concerto lulled her as she moved around the shop. A sudden swell of violins made her pause. Savannah became lost in the music, full and passionate. Closing her eyes, she could smell Paul’s skin fresh with soap just from a hot shower. She could hear the rich deep dulcet tones of his laugh and see him tilt his handsome head to one side. Savannah could feel the heat of his flesh press hard against hers, the steady thrumming of her heart as its pace quicken with their lovemaking. At the sound of the bell over the shop door her eyes flew open. With extreme effort she composed herself before making her way to the front again. Hastily she wiped a light sheen of perspiration from her brow. Could it be? No, it wasn’t. She tried to arrange her face so that he could not see the deep disappointment she felt, a disappointment that stabbed through her body like jagged glass. With great effort, she forced her lips to stretch into a tight smile.