The defendant blew out a deep breath. “Thank you, judge. I really appreciate it.”
“Next time you’ll not only serve time for whatever else you do, but I’ll also reinstate the sentence I just suspended. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, ma’am. I get it.” He turned and hugged his attorney.
The judge tapped her gavel. “Next case. Jean Randolph.”
Stump’s mom and her lawyer moved toward the center of the room. “I’m Lydia Schwartz, judge. Attorney for Ms. Randolph.”
The judge glanced at her file jacket. “Your client is also here for sentencing. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Ms. Randolph admitted what she did and apologized. It’s only her third DUI.”
“Do you want to call any witnesses before I pass sentence?”
“Yes, judge. We’d like to call the defendant’s sister and her son.”
For the next ten minutes Aunt Gerry prattled through a touching story about how tough her sister’s life had been. But Stump couldn’t forget the girl in the wheelchair. It was pure luck that his mom hadn’t hurt somebody too. Abruptly, Aunt Gerry stepped back and Stump was called upon.
“Good morning, Mr. Randolph,” the judge said. “I understand you want to say a few words on your mother’s behalf?”
Stump hesitated and looked at his mom. Lydia pointed her jaw toward the microphone and mouthed the words, “Go ahead.” He sighed and leaned forward.
“Nobody would want to rat out their own mother, but I don’t want anybody else to end up like that girl who was just in here.”
“Go ahead; tell me more,” the judge said.
Tears came to Stump’s eyes. He took another breath. “A couple weeks ago Mom got in trouble because of her drinking and had to go to the hospital.”
Jean whispered something in Lydia’s ear, probably something about the rape not being her fault. “The doctor warned her to quit or she could die. She promised she would stop, but she’s been drunk more times since then. Each time, she promises she’ll stop or at least slow down. But she never does. Yesterday she told me she quit and poured out an opened bottle of vodka right in front of me. Then she made a big deal out of throwing the bottle away.” He heard movement from the direction of his mom and her attorney.
“What happened next?” the judge asked.
Stump sniffled. “I was cleaning up the yard and needed a bag so I went to our catch-all room. That’s when I found out she lied again. Some bags fell off the shelf and I found two bottles of vodka—a full one and a pickle jar with some in it.”
The judge glared at Jean then returned her attention to Stump. “Are you saying she had two bottles on hand after just telling you that she threw everything away?”
He nodded and wiped away a tear. “Yes ma’am. I figured out that she had emptied her other bottle into the pickle jar and then put some water in the empty vodka bottle so that it looked like she was throwing away vodka, but it was really just water.”
“Your Honor,” Lydia butted in. “I’m sure Neal is confused. He couldn’t know what was in the bottle that Ms. Randolph threw out.”
“He’s your witness, counselor. If you didn’t know what he was going to say, you shouldn’t have called upon him. I’ll hear him out.” To Stump, she said, “What makes you think she threw out water instead of vodka?”
“I smelled the liquid in the pickle jar. It was definitely alcohol. And then she hid it. Why would she do that? It was just so she could put on a big show and make me think she threw the stuff out.”
Lydia rose again. “Your Honor. That’s just Neal’s opinion. He’s no expert on alcoholic beverages.”
The judge held up her hand. “I said I want to hear him out.” Back to Stump. “Go ahead, Mr. Randolph. You were saying?”
Stump finally got enough nerve to face his mother. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She turned her head away, disgusted.
“She lies over and over again. Her lawyer gets her extra chances, but she never changes. I don’t want her to hurt anybody like that girl. The doctor said if she doesn’t quit drinking, she might die. But she doesn’t listen to anybody. In a few weeks we go back to school and I won’t be around to help her as much. I think you should throw the book at her, or whatever it is you can do. I love my mom, but she won’t fix her problem so I want you to do something drastic to help her.” His head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
The judge turned to Lydia. “Counselor?”
“Ms. Randolph loves her son, Your Honor. She’s a good mom. They need each other and I think you should give her one more chance. I’m sure they can work through all of this. They’ve been survivors all their lives.”
The judge addressed Jean. “What about you, Ms. Randolph? Can you tell me any reason I shouldn’t put you in jail?”
“Because youngsters need their parents,” she said meekly.
The judge went quiet and turned a couple of pages in her file. Finally she lifted her head. “The court agrees with Ms. Randolph. Our children do indeed need their parents to watch over them and keep them safe.” She turned to Lydia. “However, the evidence shows that Ms. Randolph can’t control herself. In this family it appears as if the roles have been reversed. Neal is the one who acts like an adult and she’s the one who acts like a reckless child. They need each other alright, but he seems to be the only one who gets that.”
Judge Vaughn motioned to Jean. “For starters, the court orders you to immediately surrender your driver’s license to the state for a period of time to be determined at a later date, but not less than one year.”
Jean covered her mouth and the judge resumed, “I’m tempted to separate you from Neal for at least a year. Then maybe you’d have time to think about the damage you’re doing to your son.”
Jean’s hands shook. “Please judge, don’t do that. He needs me. He can’t even do his laundry correctly or cook a good meal.”
The judge raised a halting hand. “From what I’ve heard today, Ms. Randolph, it’s the other way around. You’re the one who acts like an irresponsible child.”
Jean’s attorney held up her hand. “Judge, may I say something?”
The judge nodded.
Lydia took Jean’s hand. “I know how important drinking and driving is to you and our society. Like you, I’ve seen the problems first-hand. But breaking up this family would not be good for Neal. He needs his mother just as much as any other child needs his or her mom. I’m asking that you reconsider. Give her one final chance to straighten up. For both of their sakes.”
Judge Vaughn removed her glasses. “You may be correct, counselor. But she’s the one who doesn’t understand consequences.” She retuned her glasses to their rightful place. “I’m sentencing Ms. Randolph to thirty days in the county jail.” Stump’s mom gasped and her attorney shook her head. “And just to show you what life would be like without your son, I’m restricting you to one hour of visiting rights each week. Maybe if you find out how lonely you get when you’re not together, you’ll finally modify your behavior.” She turned to Stump. “Do you have somebody you can stay with for the next month? If not, I can make arrangements for you to live in a court-approved facility.”
Stump wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “My Aunt Gerry might take me.”
Aunt Gerry stood. “Of course I will, Your Honor. I’ll take care of him.”
The judge turned back to Stump. “What you did today took incredible courage. I don’t see much of that around here. I want you to know that I personally respect you for doing something so difficult. Your mother is going through a very tough time in her life. She needs you. And I know she loves you. Never forget that, no matter how difficult things become between you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The judge returned to Jean. “One more arrest and I’m going to split you guys up for a year. Understand?”
“But this isn’t fair. The previous guy got off.”
“I’m very serious, Ms. Rand
olph. Hopefully you’ll get serious too.” She turned her head toward an armed man at the side of the room. “Deputy, escort Ms. Randolph to the Sheriff’s office for processing.” She tapped her gavel on her desk. “Next case.”
Chapter Eighteen
Following Mac and Rachel’s meeting on the football field, Miranda noted that there was still a lot more to find out and to do, but it appeared as if Don’s plan had genuine promise. She picked up two disposable cell phones—“burners,” as the sales clerk called them—and gave one to Mac; then she completed his image as a NASA electrician by scraping together some work clothes and a fake picture ID to clip to his shirt. Thereafter, Mac wore his “uniform” and visited Rachel nearly every day.
About ten days after the original meeting, Miranda began slipping him money from her recently approved line of credit so it always appeared as if he had the kind of spending money an electrician might carry around. He also followed up on one of Miranda’s suggestions and rented a van in which he and Rachel took six students to a Dodger’s game. A few days later, Rachel offered to let him move into her guest room—strictly as a roommate.
At first, Mac’s new housing arrangement represented a step closer to the trust money, but he quickly complained about spending the nights at Rachel’s place instead of at Miranda’s home as had been the previous norm. When he speculated that it would take so many similar nights to complete the plan that it might not be worth it, Miranda pleaded with him not to quit. “I know it’s difficult, Sweets, but Mickey and I would really appreciate it if you’d hang in there until we know for certain whether or not we can escalate your relationship into a marriage.”
That day she “appreciated” him more than any woman had ever “appreciated” him before. He agreed to keep going as long as they continued to make progress.
One night Mac called her and said he was taking Rachel to dinner. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” he said, “when I see you in the morning.”
Now, that time had come. Mac parked in Miranda’s garage and let himself into her kitchen. He grinned. “It happened,” he said before they even said good morning.
Miranda tilted her head. “I’ll be damned,” she said holding her arms out for a hug. “Tell me about it.”
“After dinner, we had some wine. Then when we got home we got right to it—didn’t even talk about protection.”
“That’s it? Simple as that?” She squinted her eyes nearly closed. “It’s almost as if she wants to get pregnant. Why else would she be so cavalier?”
“That’s fine with us, right? ‘Cause if she thinks she’s pregnant, she’d probably agree to get married.”
“It’s intriguing, all right.”
“As far as I’m concerned, the sooner the better. Either that or kill the whole deal.”
“It could have been the liquor,” she suggested. “You know something, Sweets? You may have found the quickest way to get her to marry you. I think you should ask her if you can move your things out of the guestroom and into her room.”
“But that would mean I’d have to literally sleep with her every night.”
“You’ve got to try, Sweets. It will tell us if she was just tipsy, or if she secretly wants to have a baby.”
* * *
The next morning, Mac donned his uniform a little earlier than usual. He jumped on Annie and they darted out of the driveway without warming her up. Annie sputtered as if she needed a cup of morning coffee. “Bad news, Annie. We gotta get to Miranda’s ASAP.”
“I thought you seemed anxious,” he imagined her saying.
“Can’t help it,” he said, shifting. “Two nights ago everything was going perfectly. Rachel and I got it on for the first time. I asked Rachel if I could move into her room but we ended up getting it on again without her answering the question.”
“Did you raw dog her, again?”
“She didn’t even hesitate,” he replied while twisting the throttle, “so this morning I asked her why she didn’t make an issue of it and her answer damn near knocked the wind out of me.” Ahead, a yellow light ahead urged them to hurry up. “Now it looks like a medical issue has ruined Mickey’s best shot at a decent life.”
“Maybe this will give you a reason to back out.”
“I’m okay with that if Miranda is, but if we keep going, I gotta get some sleeping pills for Rachel at night.”
“Good plan. That way, you can sneak out and spend more time with Miranda.”
“It’s not just that, but I need a break from her. I’m tired of the morning charade, dressing up like a damn electrician before we bolt over to Miranda’s place. I’m always worn out when I get there.”
“I never thought you could get too much action.”
Mac smirked. “Our assistant principal isn’t as proper as she’d like people to believe.”
“You think you might have problems getting it up? ‘Cause they’ve got pills for that, you know.”
“Not so far, Annie, but I’m supposed to make Rachel think we’re in love. I can’t expect her to marry me if I can’t pull that off and it’s difficult to get aroused by her when Miranda is so close by.”
“Sounds like you’re all going to get screwed one way or the other.”
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda hadn’t slept well since Rachel had told Mac about her medical issue. Now Miranda had to tell Don there was genuine doubt it they could ever get to the trust money.
After taking their positions in the visiting room, Don verified that the guard was out of earshot before he leaned forward. “I hope you’ve got good news for me.”
Miranda turned her hands palms up. “We’ve got a couple big problems, Donnie. If we can’t come up with an answer, Mickey isn’t—“
“What kind of problems?”
“For one thing, I almost didn’t get to come today. Mac is spending so much time with Rachel that when he finally gets away, he clings to me like tape. I had to lie to him just so I could see you.”
“What’s the big deal? You’ve been coming here every week without him knowing about us.”
“Like I said, the more time he spends with Rachel, the more he clings to me when he’s free. I told him I have to have Thursday mornings off—for ‘girl things,’ like the beauty parlor, shopping, cleaning house.”
“Sounds good. Did he buy it?”
“Not at first. He said I could use nights and weekends for those things, but I told him that wasn’t enough. I think he’ll be okay with it for a while.”
“Good. Now what’s the other problem? The last I heard, he’d just moved in with that Rachel chick and you were going to get some pictures of his hair style and tattoos so I can match them when I get out.”
“That’s the least of our worries right now.” She looked over her shoulder to the guard’s desk where Officer Jackson was skimming through a magazine. “Everything was going great until yesterday. They’d made love a few times and Rachel didn’t make an issue of birth control. We figured that she secretly wants to have a baby, so Mac started talking about kids and families.”
“Yeah? Sounds fantastic. So what’s the snag?”
“Yesterday she said she never let herself get her hopes up, after the surgery.”
“Surgery? What surgery?”
“When she was younger. She had a cancer-like growth on her ovaries. After her surgeon removed it he said there was substantial doubt whether she could ever get pregnant. But he also said he’d seen crazier things. Anyway, now her periods are irregular, sometimes several months apart, and it appears she’s not capable.”
Don’s jaw tightened. “Damn. Now we’ll have to stick with the earlier plan. Mac’s got to charm her into marrying him.”
Miranda shook her head. “That isn’t going to work, Donnie. They’d have to live together longer. There’d be an engagement period, then a wedding. That could take a year or longer. Mac isn’t going to hold up that long. Besides that, she might figure out that he’s not really employed or she
might just say no.”
Don smacked his hand on the table. “You got any other bright ideas?”
She shrugged. “I wish we did, for Mickey’s sake, but we needed her to think she was pregnant.”
Don pursed his lips. Then, “Wait a minute. You just said we needed her to think she was pregnant, right?”
“Yeah. But we can’t count on that now.”
Don wagged his index finger. “You’re looking at it all wrong, Baby. It doesn’t matter if she’s pregnant or not. All she has to do is think she is. All we gotta do is convince her she’s pregnant, even if she isn’t.”
Miranda blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t follow.”
Don grinned. “Don’t you see? Her surgeon’s comment —that he’d seen crazier things—left the door open to the possibility and it’s obvious that down deep she really does want to have a baby. Otherwise, she would have made Mac use a condom to eliminate all doubt, but she didn’t do that. It’s clear as a bell. She’ll want to believe us.”
Miranda shook her head. “Even if that’s true, she’s not stupid. How are we going to make her think she’s pregnant in the first place?”
“I can think of a couple of ways. First, you need my dipshit brother to get into her cell phone.”
Miranda’s heart sped up. Once again she was convinced that Don was smarter than most people would think. She was excited again. Maybe there was still hope for Mickey.
Chapter Twenty
Stump slid a plastic bag across the seat. “Can I turn the radio on?” he asked Aunt Gerry as he buckled his seat belt.
“I guess so, but not too loud.”
It had been a week since Stump’s mom went straight to jail, without passing Go. He’d never seen her as disappointed in him as when they handcuffed her and led her out of the courtroom. She may have forgiven him countless times for lesser failings, but this was a new level. He chewed at his thumbnail. Then, “Do you think they put her in with any murderers?”
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