by D. J. Palmer
Becky reached across the table, taking hold of his arm, applying enough force to get him to sit back down. The sweet look in her eyes drained in a blink, replaced with something far darker and more sinister.
“Peter, listen to me, listen very carefully.” Becky’s voice turned low and strangely ominous. “I’m not someone you want to cross. Believe me when I tell you that.”
Dr. Levine jerked his arm away. He stood, his bravado retreating like the tide. He dropped a five-dollar bill on the table and left without saying goodbye.
* * *
THE LAW office of Leers and Hall was located on the second floor of a two-story brick building in Wellesley, Massachusetts. It was a tony town like Concord, populated with its fair share of rich people with secrets, but none like the kind Becky was carrying.
A sweet-faced young receptionist, who stole more than a couple of glances at Carl, escorted them to a meeting room off the main hall. Inside, Becky and Carl found a long mahogany table surrounded by plush leather chairs. Seated in one of those chairs was the attorney Andrea Leers, whom Becky had met only once before at yesterday’s brief get-to-know-you meeting. Thanks to a sidebar conversation Becky had with Leers it was not an inconsequential face-to-face either, as Carl was soon to find out.
Leers, a woman in her late fifties, had on sensible shoes like the kind Annabel Hope from the DCF might have worn. Her navy blue suit jacket and skirt were understated and could have been bargain priced, lest one think her hefty hourly fee was frivolously spent on a fancy wardrobe. Her hair was cut short above the ears and rounded into the shape of a period, as if she herself were the last word anyone would need to hear. Her dark eyes were kind but serious, reflecting not only compassion but also an understanding of the monetary value of every second. Nothing about her, from her gestures to her words, was wasted.
Normally, Carl would have put on the charm, sending Leers a smile big and bright enough to cover his worries. Instead, he seethed when he set his eyes on Dr. Zach Fisher, who was seated across from her.
Carl gripped Becky’s arm and pulled her in close to his body, putting his mouth up to her ear. “What the hell is he doing here?” Carl whispered.
Becky’s second secret was now out in the open, but she had no plans to reveal her breakfast meeting with Dr. Levine.
“Excuse us a moment, will you please?” Becky said, addressing both Leers and Zach as she led Carl out into the hallway. They moved farther down the hall to get out of earshot, but there were offices all around them. If Carl raised his voice, it would cause a scene—which was how Becky had planned it.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you,” Becky said.
“You invited him?” Carl asked, with disdain.
“Dr. Fisher offered to come as our medical advisor, and I said yes.”
Becky left out that it was Leers who had suggested Zach’s involvement for fear Carl might fire their attorney on the spot.
“God!” Carl tossed his head back, throwing his arms up in the air as if all were lost now. “That’s great,” he said with sarcastic bite. “That’s just great, Becky.”
“What is your problem?” Becky asked, knowing full well what his problem was. She might as well have invited Veronica to join them. “We need him,” she said, imploring with her eyes. “And if I told you I wanted him here, you’d have said no.”
“I’m walking out. I’m going to the car.”
“Don’t.” Becky sputtered the word. “Don’t you walk out on me, on us.” She took hold of his hand. Carl held her gaze. She wanted so desperately to have her husband at her side. She wanted that man who’d fight for her, for his family, the way he had fought against the guard who’d grabbed her that day in the hospital.
“Please just hear what the lawyer has to say,” she begged him. “I wouldn’t have invited Dr. Fisher if I didn’t think it was essential. If I’m wrong, I promise, I won’t mention Zach Fisher’s name ever again, I swear it.”
Carl folded his arms as he looked away. When he looked back, his eyes were red. The last time she’d seen him on the verge of tears was after Meghan was born.
“I just don’t want to lose her,” he said, his face tightening as the raw emotion set in.
Becky wrapped her arms around her husband in a firm embrace. She knew he was thinking not only of Meghan but of Sammy as well. Carl stiffened at her touch. She could sense him holding on to those feelings, afraid of letting them go.
“It’ll be all right, baby,” Becky said, rising up on her toes to speak in his ear as she caressed the back of his head, keeping him in a loving embrace. She felt him lean into her, needing her, and this opened her heart so wide, she forgot all about the laptop, the accusations, and his distance.
In that single moment, he was her Carl again, the handsome developer who had built one of the first houses she’d ever sold. He was the man who’d held her as they wept for their son, who’d given her a daughter. He was her companion, her champion, her friend, lover, and husband. He was the person she remembered and missed so dearly.
“We’re going to get through this,” Becky said, still holding on tight. “Together, we’ll do it together.”
Carl leaned harder into her embrace, and Becky could feel him letting go. As he did, he began to cry, tears thick as raindrops streaming down his face. His heaving chest worked for each breath. His body trembled in her grasp as the emotion came pouring out of him.
“Together,” she whispered.
Carl gripped her tighter. “Together,” he whispered back.
CHAPTER 24
ZACH
Becky and Carl returned looking drained and depleted, but Zach noticed something else about them. They were standing close to each other now. This was good, thought Zach. They needed to form a united front to get through the storm ahead. But it was also a bit unsettling to see Becky acting cozy with her husband after she’d been so strangely flirtatious with him in his office. Could she turn her emotions on and off like a faucet? People with Munchausen were master manipulators, which was why Zach reminded himself to be cautious and on guard.
While he did not feel swayed by Becky Gerard’s charms, he was not made of stone either. He could not help but notice Becky, finding something compelling and alluring about her. He’d be lying to himself if he denied that her attentions had opened a door of sorts, and he was having a damn hard time shutting it again.
Zach had hardly dated since his marriage came to a crashing end. He’d gone out a couple of times, forced by friends to try to “get back on his feet,” but the evenings were dimmed by his heartache, his memories and regrets. His past was always a third wheel at the dinner table.
Zach had tried antidepressants but, in an unfortunate bit of catch-22, found that they only compounded his guilt. He felt guilty for feeling happy, or at least not depressed. He strangely missed having the weight of Will’s death to carry around, like Atlas forced to hold up the celestial spheres. Zach held no doubt that making a breakthrough in the disease would help him far more than any pill ever could.
He noticed the heart-shaped diamond-encrusted silver pendant standing out against Becky’s black turtleneck and wondered if it had been a gift from Carl. Maybe he’d had it engraved with something personal, touching. Zach thought of the last present he’d bought for Stacy, some meaningless scarf picked up at an airport gift shop on his way home from some meaningless conference. He was never good with gift giving, planning surprises for birthdays or anniversaries and such. He could see now what he could not see then: that time was finite, and every day a gift not to be taken for granted.
Zach could tell the Gerards were holding hands beneath the table and was genuinely glad they had reconciled. In fact, his heart broke for them.
“Who is looking after my daughter?” Becky asked.
“The woman’s name is Jill Mendoza,” the attorney said.
Zach poured water from a glass pitcher and tried not to make eye contact with Carl. It was possible Carl had reached some new understand
ing with Becky, but that did not parlay into a new acceptance of Zach. It was obvious Carl would rather have any other doctor at this meeting—even Nash.
“Who is Jill Mendoza?” Becky asked.
“She’s the guardian ad litem, appointed by the court to make decisions in loco parentis, in place of the parent, regarding Meghan’s best interest,” Leers answered. “Legally, she’s the one who makes decisions for Meghan now.”
Zach watched the color drain from Becky’s face, while Carl looked as though he’d swallowed something bitter.
“What kind of decisions?” Becky asked.
“Medications, treatments, who Meghan gets to see, what she does.”
“Basically, she’s us,” Becky said, her voice on edge.
“Well, in a way. Yes and no,” Leers said. “She’s authorized to make recommendations and decisions regarding Meghan’s well-being, including medical treatments. But she’s not her parent. You are.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Carl asked.
“In short, all the decisions you would normally make for your daughter, Jill Mendoza now makes. You lose the right to visit or talk to your child unsupervised. You don’t have the final say about how your child is raised or treated. But it’s temporary. Our fight is just beginning.”
As the meeting progressed and the Gerards absorbed the devastating news, Zach learned a lot more about the process White Memorial, and Nash especially, had gone through to take Meghan from the family. It was not a process Knox Singer had entered into lightly. In fact, removing a child from a home was viewed, according to hospital policy, as being a measure of last resort. Somehow Nash had convinced Singer to act, and hastily at that, which meant Dr. Levine’s report must have been truly damning.
Citing her legal duty to report suspected child abuse and neglect, Nash had gotten the DCF wheels in motion. The 51A Nash had filed then led to a 51B, an investigation of said claim, which DCF did with its own doctors taking consult from Nash and Levine, who presented compelling evidence to get an ex parte hearing with a judge to gain temporary custody of Meghan. All this ran counter to how big bureaucracies functioned, but in cases where there is a risk of severe abuse or neglect, when the child could be in danger should they return home with the parents, the typically slow-moving processes churned with startling rapidity.
“How could a judge just give our child away?” Becky asked, letting go of Carl’s hand to slam hers on the table.
Leers did not flinch. “The threshold to find reasonable cause to issue temporary custody is fairly low,” she explained. “But we have our second hearing, and that’s why Dr. Fisher is here.”
Known as a seventy-two-hour hearing, this was perhaps the most critical step in the process, the attorney emphasized. During that hearing, the judge would determine whether DCF should retain custody of Meghan until the next hearing could take place, that one on the merits of the petition. A hearing on the merits typically occurred within twelve to fifteen months from the time the case began. The Gerards were potentially facing a full year, maybe even longer, without custody of their daughter.
“Why does Dr. Fisher need to be here?” Carl rolled up his shirtsleeves, again reminding Zach of that bully from his school days.
“We need a medical consult to prove that mito is a medical possibility and Nash and Levine were wrong to discount it,” Leers said.
“So DCF is supporting Drs. Nash and Levine?” Carl looked a bit confused.
“Not exactly,” said Leers. “The good news here is that the Department of Children and Families has an obligation, a legal obligation, with a mandated timeline of at least six months, to try to get Meghan back home to you. They want reunification.”
“Well, then, why don’t they just return her to us?”
“It’s not that simple,” Leers said to Becky. “They also have a duty to protect the child.”
“What if we can’t convince DCF we are fit parents?” Carl asked.
Zach was wondering the same.
“They have the ability to pursue permanent custody and also termination of your parental rights.”
Becky gasped. “Just make her not ours? They can’t do that!”
“I’m afraid they can,” said the attorney. “But we have our opportunity to present our case tomorrow, which I feel is very strong. This is a fluid process, and the hearing of the initial petition on parental unfitness will take time. But we have to cooperate. We have to play by the rules. If we lose the seventy-two-hour hearing, we’ll have other chances to get Meghan back. We can’t look at any defeat as a final blow. Is that understood?”
Everyone nodded. To himself, Zach pondered the significance of losing the hearing. Meghan would remain at White, a prisoner of the Behavioral Health Unit, and a clock would be set for the permanent termination of the Gerards’ parental rights.
“How do we win this case?” Becky asked.
Leers turned to Zach.
He cleared his throat. “This is a matter of ‘he said, she said,’” he began. “We’re trying to prove Meghan has a disease that we haven’t yet confirmed.”
“How do you confirm it, Dr. Fisher?” Carl asked. Zach detected more than a trickle of exasperation in his voice. “Because we’ve been down this road before. And there’s never an answer. There’s never just one test. There are lots more tests, followed by more guessing, like my daughter is some fucking science experiment.”
“She’s hardly that!” Zach felt his blood surge. “There are other tests. There are things we can do that we haven’t done, that we should have done.”
“Well, why didn’t you!” Carl demanded.
“Because your daughter is terrified of needles!” Zach tossed his hands in the air. “I couldn’t do the tests I wanted. She had a panic attack in my office, or do you not remember? We need to do that muscle biopsy and maybe an EMG, but both involve a lot of needles.”
“Well, if she hadn’t made her so afraid of them, maybe we’d get that done.” Carl sent Becky a look that put a quick end to reunification hopes. “But that needle you showed us was the size of her damn arm. She’ll be scarred forever if you try to put that in her.”
“Better that than she doesn’t come home?” said Becky through gritted teeth.
Carl’s shoulders slumped forward. “So that’s what it’s come to. That’s our only hope to get her back. My God, Becky, what have you done?”
Becky looked stunned. “I’ve been trying to help her!”
“Next time, don’t do her any favors.”
“Please, please,” Leers said, pleading for calm. “This would be a disaster for us tomorrow. Okay? A disaster. The seventy-two-hour hearing is always rushed. We don’t have proper time to prepare a big defense as it is. Dr. Fisher is our star witness. He’s the best hope we have for getting Meghan back where she belongs. Is that understood?”
Carl gave a reluctant nod, but only after Becky sent him a scathing sideways glance.
“When we go before the judge, Zach will present medical evidence to show that Meghan has mitochondrial disease,” the attorney continued.
“How’s that going to work when you haven’t proved it yet?” Carl asked. “You couldn’t convince Dr. Nash; how are you going to convince a judge?”
“Let’s let Dr. Fisher handle that,” Leers said.
Carl threw his hands up. “Well, then, I guess I’ll prepare myself for the worst.”
“You need to do more than that,” Leers advised, somewhat forebodingly.
“How so?” Carl asked, nonplussed.
Leers scanned the room as her expression turned increasingly tense. “These cases, from my experience, tend to get very emotional. Oftentimes it’s difficult to maintain a unified front.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
Zach sensed the attorney’s reluctance to answer.
“Meaning that while I represent your interests as a couple, I strongly suggest that you each retain your own counsel individually.”
“Why would we need that?
” Becky asked.
“Don’t be dim, Becky,” Carl said in a dark voice that made Zach wonder if he’d ever been violent with her before. “We need it because we might be forced to go up against each other,” he said. “A judge may have to decide if one of us is fit to parent Meghan, but not the other.”
“Oh my God.” Becky looked the way the parents of Zach’s patients did when he had to deliver bad news. For the remainder of the meeting, Becky did not say another word.
CHAPTER 25
The courtroom was nothing special. The judge sat at an imposing wood desk bracketed by two American flags in heavy-duty stands. To one side was the witness box, and on the other stood a smaller desk for a court clerk. A bailiff in a brown uniform, gun holstered around his waist, hovered near the table reserved for the Gerards’ attorney, Andrea Leers. The opposing attorney, representing the Department of Children and Families, sat directly across from Leers. A wood partition separated the lawyers from the section reserved for the public, but there was no jury box. This was a civil matter, and Meghan’s fate rested solely with the judge.
The room was divided like a wedding, with those supporting White on one side of the aisle and the Gerards on the other. Zach sat in the row behind Becky and Carl. Across from him sat Nash, Knox Singer, a very nervous Dr. Levine, and the people from DCF, including someone named Annabel Hope, whom Becky had pointed out with contempt. Jill Mendoza, Meghan’s new decision maker, was in attendance as well. Nash would not meet Zach’s gaze, though he noticed she seemed to have no trouble glancing over at the Gerards.
Zach felt a heavy tightness in his chest, not only because he was Becky and Carl’s best hope for getting their daughter back but also because he was facing off against the hospital CEO. Zach and Knox Singer had already exchanged a few tense words in the hallway before the hearing got underway. Zach replayed that exchange in his mind, trying to decide if his employee badge would still get him access to the pediatric floor tomorrow. It was fifty-fifty at best. The memory faded as the judge entered the courtroom.