Unexpected Dismounts

by Nancy Rue

  “Your client claims God speaks to her, tells her what to do. That does not sound like mental stability to me.… That sounds like—”

  “She’s submitting her will to a higher power?” Kade said. “Because that’s what Miss Chamberlain does.”

  “My concern is what happens if this higher power one day tells her to send the boy back out on the street where she found him.”

  “Miss Chamberlain gives up the power of the will, sir. Not the power of the mind. That is what we hope to show you.”

  Mr. Quillon made a noise that may have been a laugh. Judge Atwell lowered his chin at him. Quillon’s next noise sounded like strangulation.

  “I’ll hear what you have to say, Mr. Capelli. Just keep in mind that my purpose is to decide what is best for Desmond.”

  Kade gave him a respectful nod, and called Henrietta D’Angelo to the stand. Once in the chair, Hank set him straight on the name thing, mouth twitching. Kade asked her to explain her relationship with me.

  “When I first met Allison, she didn’t know she was a prophet.” Hank looked at Judge Atwell. “Like you, Your Honor, she considered the possibility that she was hallucinating. But the effect of her paying attention to what she felt was God was so positive, she finally accepted her role.”

  “So she was reluctant at first.”

  “She still is at times. Allison is very conscious of being overwhelmed by God, but she’s able to respond sanely.”

  “An example might help,” Kade said.

  Hank folded her hands in her lap. I relaxed in spite of myself.

  “God’s Nudge has led Allison into some of the darkest corners in this city. She has seen the women she reaches out to overdose on cocaine and heroin, she’s nursed them when they’ve been beaten and raped, she’s held one in her arms in an alley while she died from a gunshot wound. She has suffered shock most of us would crumble under, and yet she heeds the call to effect change. That is what separates her from a psychopath.”

  Kade nodded his thanks and turned to the judge.

  “Do you have any questions, Mr. Quillon?” Judge Atwell said.

  “No, Your Honor,” Quillon said. “I’m just enjoying the show.”

  The judge’s face came to a severe point at his chest. “There will be none of that here, sir. You will respect the dignity of this court.”

  “I apologize, Your Honor. I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing.”

  Quillon just received a look this time, one that would have cut me in half. It only served to make Quillon adjust his tie. The jackal.

  Hank patted my shoulder going by. Kade was announcing our next witness.

  “I would like to call Mercedes Phillips.”

  I startled in the chair as Mercedes made her way to the witness stand. She wore a black skirt that shivered at her knees, and her hands clasped and unclasped inside the cuffs of the white blouse someone had pressed for her. She couldn’t possibly have done it herself, not without losing control of the iron from perspiring palms. Hers had to be sweaty; mine were oozing through my slacks on her behalf.

  When she’d agreed to tell the truth and sat stiff as a ruler in the chair, she found me with her eyes. I prayed my hands under my chin. She prayed hers back.

  Kade spoke softly to her, as if he were taking care not to upset the tenuous balance she was somehow maintaining. “Has Allison Chamberlain ever told you she was a prophet?”

  Mercedes shook her head.

  “We’re going to need you to speak your answers, Miss Phillips,” Judge Atwell said. “Just for the record.”

  She nodded, and then said, almost inaudibly, “No.”

  I hoped Kade didn’t have too many questions. What was he thinking, putting her through this?

  “She doesn’t talk about her gift of prophecy?” Kade said.

  “No. She don’t have to. It’s not about what she says, it’s about what she do.”

  “Have you ever seen her do anything that you thought was crazy?”

  Mercedes rolled her eyes at Kade. “No. I’ve known me some crazy people in my life, and Miss Angel—Allison—ain’t one of them.”

  “How do you know that?” Kade said.

  “If she was one of them crazies think they prophets standin’ on the corner wavin’ signs sayin’ the world gonna end tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to do what she do with us.”

  Her voice was headed for the courtroom ceiling, and she was wagging her head back and forth. I rested my chin on my hands. Mercedes was taking charge of the room.

  “And what is it that she does?” Kade said.

  “Miss Angel teach us not to be afraid, not by what she sayin’, by her whole attitude in what she doin’.” Mercedes slanted forward and planted her hand on her chest. “She can do that because she feel what we feel. I just don’t see nothin’ crazy ’bout savin people’s lives.”

  Kade smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Phillips.”

  Mr. Quillon stood up. “Your Honor, if I may.”

  My backbone bristled. Chief might regret not being here to hold me back. When Judge Atwell nodded Quillon on, I saw Mercedes set her jaw. I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous for her, or for him.

  “Just one question,” Mr. Quillon said.

  He didn’t ask if he could call her Mercedes. At least he wasn’t a complete moron.

  “It’s a point of clarification, actually,” he said. “Did I hear you refer to Allison Chamberlain as Miss Angel?”

  “I don’t know if that’s what you heard, but that’s what I said.”

  “So, she is not only a prophet, but an angel, too?”

  Mercedes gave him a look that should have shriveled him inside his Armani suit. “It ain’t like she sprouts wings. She just does what angels do—and that’s the will a God.” Mercedes looked him up and down. “Seem like some other people could take a lesson from that, now.”

  Mr. Quillon looked at Judge Atwell with mock helplessness. The judge nodded at Mercedes.

  “That will be all, Miss Phillips. Thank you for your time.”

  But it was Kade she looked to for permission to go. When he smiled at her again, I expected her to bolt, and I wouldn’t have blamed her. She stood, however, with the grace of the magnificent creature she was and walked out carrying the courtroom dignity she had brought in with her.

  I was still gazing at the image when Kade called Desmond’s name. My eyes went directly to Priscilla Sanborn.

  All morning I’d avoided looking at her. Her face had registered very little of anything the day before, even when she was on the stand, so I hadn’t seen the point in trying to read her when Kade or Hank or Mercedes was speaking. Even now she was staring at the wall behind the judge as if all of this were an extreme waste of her time. But I had to see how she reacted when Desmond entered the room.

  He came down the aisle with his usual swagger, and although he grinned at Stan and pointed at Rex and gave Erin O’Hare a one-sided high-five, he didn’t stop to exchange fist bumps with Ulysses or tackle Liz Doyle with a hug. Chief must have coached him well. Even now Chief followed Desmond down the aisle in his wheelchair, leg stuck out at the boy’s behind.

  While Kade got Desmond settled and sworn in, I looked again at Priscilla. She was watching Desmond, I had to give her that. And there was something other than disdain on her face. Her head tilted a few degrees, and she drew the penciled-in eyebrows together inquisitively. She had come halfway around the world to rescue this nephew, and the most she displayed was curiosity.

  And who was the crazy person here?

  Kade was already into his first question. “So, you remember, Desmond, that later on you’ll have a chance to tell the judge your feelings about being adopted by Allison Chamberlain.”

  “I got that,” Desmond said. “I don’t get why I hafta wait,
but I get that we ain’t goin’ there right now.”

  “Fabulous,” Kade said.

  Any minute now they were going to be smacking each other in the head and saying, “I love you, bro.”

  I loved it.

  “You’re here so you can help us clear something up,” Kade said.

  “Right. Which is that the judge think Big Al might be crazy, and I’m here to tell him she ain’t. Isn’t.”

  “Excuse me, son,” Judge Atwell said. “When you say, ‘Big Al’—who are you talking about?”

  Desmond pointed to me and grinned. “My mama. Miss Allison Chamberlain.”

  The judge looked at me. “Miss Chamberlain, I wonder that you can remember your own name.”

  “That’s easy,” Desmond said, looking around the courtroom as if for a vote. “I call her Big Al, Miss Hankenstein just say Al, Sisters call her Miss Angel, and Mr. Chief, he—”

  “Thanks, Desmond,” Kade said. “So, about Big Al being a prophet. Does that ever scare you?”

  “Scare me? No. She don’t scare nobody don’t need scarin’.”

  “You want to tell me what you mean?”

  “She don’t even yell at people that’s messed up. She just makes ’em feel sorry ’bout theirselves. Makes ’em wanna do better, like clean up they act. It’s like she know if they see how messed up they are, they gonna turn their self around.”

  “You ever see that happen at all?” Kade said.

  “Yeah, I seen it happen,” Desmond said in falsetto. “I seen it just about every day, even in me. “ He jabbed his thumb at himself. “I ain’t nothin’ like I used to be, all runnin’ the streets and sayin’ the H-word and the S-word and the—”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  “But I will tell you what scares me about Big Al, now.”

  Kade looked wary. This evidently wasn’t in the plan.

  “What scares me is when she catch me with my sorry hand in the Oreo cookies. She can give you some looks make you want to run under the table real quick.” He grinned at me. “Jus’ kiddin’, Big Al. I ain’t scared a that neither.”

  Kade stuck his fist out and Desmond met it with his and started to get out of the chair. Quillon stood up.

  “Question, Mr. Quillon?” the judge said.

  “Your aunt and I were just wondering, Desmond, how do you feel about Chips Ahoy?”

  Desmond gave him the why-do-you-have-two-heads look. Judge Atwell’s expression wasn’t much different.

  “Chips Ahoy,” Mr. Quillon said. “The cookie?”

  “Yeah?” Desmond said.

  “Never mind, son. It was just a joke.”

  “I don’t see nothin’ funny ’bout no Chips Ahoy,” Desmond said to Kade.

  Laugher rippled through the courtroom, and Judge Atwell halfheartedly rapped his gavel. I checked to see if Priscilla Sanborn was capable of humor and found her whispering furiously into Quillon’s ear. He straightened and looked at Desmond.

  “I know that your mother didn’t give you what anybody would call a normal life.”

  “You talkin’ about my first mama,” Desmond said.

  “All right. That’s one way to put it. And the life you have now probably isn’t like the life most of your friends have with their families, would you say?”

  “I don’t know,” Desmond said.

  “You don’t go to your friends’ houses to spend the night?”

  “You askin’ me if my life and Big Al’s is normal, right?”

  Mr. Quillon smiled so sweetly I wanted to slap him. Just slap him.

  “Yes, son, that’s what I’m asking.”

  “Then let me jus’ tell you, it’s normal for me. And if God was talkin’ to you all the time like he is to Big Al, which God obviously is not, you wouldn’t seem like you was normal neither.”

  “Your Honor,” Quillon said. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “Don’t do anything with it,” the judge said. “We’ll take a recess for lunch—”

  “Can I say one more thing, Mr. Your Honor?”

  The courtroom turned unanimous eyes on Desmond.

  Judge Atwell gave him the nod.

  “If I got to talk to him again”—Desmond pointed to Mr. Quillon—“I would appreciate it if he would stop callin’ me son. I ain’t his son, and I sure ain’t hers.” The point was for Priscilla this time. “Only person has the right to call me son is my mama, and that is Big Al.” He nodded his wonderful head at the judge. “Thank you.”

  Judge Atwell covered the smattering of applause with his gavel. “We will reconvene in one hour,” he said.

  Kade brought Desmond over to the table, where Chief was parked on the other side of me again.

  “You were fabulous,” I said.

  Desmond just shrugged and said, “What are we doin’ for lunch?”

  “Anybody up for Chips Ahoy?” Chief said.

  I pawed around under the table for my purse. We were all behaving as if it was perfectly natural for us to think about food when Desmond’s future was dangling over our heads. Or was that just normal for us?

  “What does everybody want?” I said.

  Kade picked up his briefcase. “Nothing for me. I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll be back at twelve forty-five.”

  “One would hope,” I said.

  Chief had his cell phone in his hand. “I’ll order a pizza.”

  “They deliver here?” Desmond said. “Sweet.”

  “Actually, the judge would like you to join him for lunch, Desmond.”

  I looked up at Vickie Rodriguez, who stood at the end of the table, tailored and trim and—wet-eyed?

  “Why?” I said. I tried not to sound like I was about to lose it, but if Vickie Rodriguez was crying, we were done.

  “It’s customary,” she said. “He likes to have some time with the … Desmond, so they can talk things over.”

  Desmond scowled. “I already said all I got to say.”

  “Good,” Vickie said. “So maybe you’ll let him do some of the talking.”

  “What are we havin’ for lunch?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Later, y’all,” Desmond said and went off placing his order with the bailiff before I could even say good-bye. Every time he left my side now, I ached like it was the last time.

  “I’ll bring him back when he’s done,” Vickie said.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She squatted beside me.

  “What’s with the tears? If there’s something wrong, you just need to tell me.”

  “It just got to me is all. What Desmond said, what they all said. If this doesn’t go through, I may quit. I mean it.”

  “Do you think it will?” I said. “Be honest.”

  “It all depends.”

  “On what?”

  Vickie looked at me squarely. “On what you say when you get up there.”

  When she was gone, I turned to Chief.

  “I don’t want pizza,” I said.

  “What do you want?”

  You.

  “I just want to sit here,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything. He just sat there with me.

  We were still sitting there, the two of us, at 12:58. Owen had already taken Desmond home with him. The courtroom crowd was settled in, and Priscilla and her lawyer had long since returned to their table. Everyone was there but the judge.

  And Kade.

  “What if he got into an accident?” I said.

  “He’s not answering his phone,” Chief said. “Could be a long line down at security.”

  “If he doesn’t show, can you do it? Can you question me—get me through this?”

  Chief pulled his searching gaze
from the courtroom doors back to me.

  “Who gets you through, Classic?” he said.

  “Sorry—”

  Kade dropped into the seat next to me. For someone who was breathing like he’d just run from Boston, his face was dead white. I’d seen it like that before, just before he hurled in front of the police station.

  “Are you all right?” I said. “What is wrong, Kade?”

  “Nothing. I have good news—fabulous news.”

  The courtroom was coming to its feet. Kade pulled me up by the elbow and got his mouth near my ear, eyes on the bench.

  “We have a donor. He’s buying the Taylor place for Sacrament House.”

  “What?” I said through my teeth. “Who is it?”

  “Anonymous. Shh—”

  “Mr. Capelli?”

  Kade gave me a downward push toward my chair and straightened his tie. “Yes, Your Honor?”

  “I don’t know what your plan is, but I’d like to hear from Miss Chamberlain.”

  “That is our plan, Your Honor. Miss Chamberlain is ready.”

  Miss Chamberlain was so not ready she could barely stand up. If I opened my mouth at that moment, Judge Atwell would not only deny the adoption, he’d have me committed.

  Somehow I got to the witness chair. Somehow I was able to state my name. Somehow I managed not to grab Kade Capelli by the necktie and ask him what he was thinking telling me that right before I had to take the stand.

  “Mr. Capelli, before you begin,” Judge Atwell said. “I want to remind you once again that all I am interested in is …”

  Whether I can prove that I’m not a nut bar with delusions of grandeur. If not, this entire courtroom was going to watch me disintegrate right before their eyes.

  And then I looked at their eyes. George’s and Lewis’s, on either side of Ms. Willa like a pair of gentleman bookends. The HOGs, out from behind their shades for a whole day so I’d know they had my back. Erin O’Hare’s bright, intelligent eyes and Liz Doyle’s dewy greens. The ones watching me like frightened deer in the back: the women beaten by the system, who swore they’d never come near a courtroom for anybody, anytime. Not a single pair of eyes said, You’re insane. They all just waited. Waited for me to—

  “Miss Chamberlain.”