Beyond Innocence (8 page)

Serena wondered if Cory had personal experience with the agency, and she wondered how much. “They don’t try hard enough.” She didn’t bother trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She reached for her coffee, but Cory’s hand met hers midway. She didn’t pull away, enjoying the light touch, the gentle comfort. Cory had the singular ability to still her mind from the whirling guilt, misgiving, and stress. In the calm, she was able to access the truth.

“I should be honest. Eric didn’t handle the environment very well. We were in three different homes together before the agency decided he was the source of the problem. After years of being in charge of himself and me, he didn’t take too well to being told what to do.”

“How old was he?”

“Fourteen.”

“It’s hard for kids to adjust at that age.”

“Do you have kids?”

Cory abruptly pulled her hand away and leaned as far back in her chair as possible. “Uh, no. None.” Cory seemed taken aback by the question. Another fact Serena filed away for later inspection. Her thoughts wandered to Skye, weeks away from having her first child, a child born on purpose, not by accident like she and Eric had surely been. Skye was clearly excited about the prospect of parenthood. Did Cory want children of her own, or did she share Serena’s fears about re-creating mistakes? The question seemed too personal. She ignored the irony in not asking and changed the subject.

“You just seem pretty familiar with CPS policies.”

“I am. Part of the job.”

“Of course.”

“So what happened when Eric could no longer get along in foster care?” Cory seemed to relax as the questions moved away from her and back to the original subject. Again, Serena noted the vague answers Cory gave when any subject turned personal, but let it go. She could ask Paul more about Cory’s background. After all, she had a right to know more about the attorney who would be working on her brother’s case, didn’t she?

“We gradually slipped apart. Eric was arrested several times. Petty thefts, but enough to wind him up in juvenile court. No foster family would take him after that, so he went to a boys’ home, which wasn’t a home at all; it was really a last stop on the state dime.”

“It’s hard to find permanent placement for older kids.”

“I know. The agency didn’t even post his profile on their adoption site.”

“But yours?”

“Mine was up for only two weeks.”

“I suppose you were beautiful even then?”

Serena felt the heat of the blush. Funny, Cory was blushing too. She glossed over the remark. She couldn’t afford to do anything but. No way was she going to confront Cory about what she considered mild flirtation. By calling attention to it, she’d have to discuss it. What would she say? Are you a lesbian? Is that why you took me to a lesbian bar for a business meeting? Are you attracted to me? Is that why you keep touching me, with your hand, with your smile?

What if Cory thought her questions were crazy? Even she thought her questions were crazy. Better to ignore these subtle actions than make a fool of herself. Still…

“I was cute. Cute dress, cute bow in hair. Besides, little girls are less trouble. At least that’s the prevailing theory.”

“Good one. So you were adopted and Eric wasn’t.”

“I was not only adopted, but I was adopted by a family in Florida. Eric was still in the boys’ home when it happened. We never even got to say good-bye before I got on a plane for the very first time in my life and flew away from everything that I knew.”

“But you kept in touch.”

“Letters, an occasional phone call. I saved every letter. The phone calls were usually laced with anger. Eric became hostile. I was living the privileged white life with my white parents in white America.”

“Hardly fair. It wasn’t like you had a choice. You were too young.”

“And he was too young to realize he wasn’t being fair. He softened up later. When he started getting into more serious trouble.” Serena considered her next words. She’d only discussed Eric’s past with the Clarks, and then only what was necessary to disclose. She considered his past private, like her own, and kept shared details to a minimum. But Cory would have to know everything if she was going to represent him. She may already know the outcome of Eric’s transgressions, but she didn’t know the details behind his wayward path, and that was why Serena was here in Dallas, instead of dispassionately phoning in her help from Florida.

“He was seventeen the first time he was arrested as an adult. He burglarized someone’s home. With his juvenile record, the public defender gave up without trying. Eric took his first trip to the pen.”

“I don’t think that a pen time plea recommendation was out of line. Probation is usually reserved for first time offenders.”

“Don’t you tell me that there aren’t tons of seventeen-year-olds offered probation, no matter what they did as children. Shoot, a seventeen-year-old is still a child in my book.” Serena folded her arms. “Here’s what I think. I think the system wrote Eric off—aged out of foster care, problems with authority. That court appointed lawyer told Eric he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t even bother to fight for him.”

Serena shuddered at the memory. She’d received a letter from Eric, return address one of the state correctional facilities. She was only thirteen when she received it, but smarter about the system than any teenager should be. Eric explained what had happened. He’d aged out of foster care. Homeless and jobless, he got in with the wrong crowd. He’d been the lookout for a couple of other guys who’d broken into a house and stolen whatever they could carry out in one trip. Instead of his past mitigating his culpability, the court system viewed him as a lost cause. He got the minimum, but the minimum was two years in the penitentiary. He did a year before he was released on parole. At thirteen, she’d been angry about the sentence, at thirty-three, she was indignant.

“That began the downward spiral. A felon on parole can’t find a job, so he either steals to earn a living or he does drugs to forget his troubles. Since he can’t afford to buy drugs without a job, he steals. Either way, he’s doomed. Seventeen is awful young to realize you’ve hit a dead end.”

“There are alternatives.”

Serena heard the trace of judgment in Cory’s otherwise gentle tone. She knew Cory was right and she’d ultimately come to that conclusion herself, but she didn’t need a stranger to tell her how she should view her brother’s cause. She started to tell Cory exactly what she could do with her uninformed opinion, but stopped short when Cory added, “I get that he couldn’t see his way through to them.”

She reined in her anger. “I made excuses for him for years. It wore on me. Wore on everyone around me.” The late night phone calls—she’d braced herself with every ring. Was he arrested or was he dead? Either was dreaded. Either could be a relief. How could she explain the roller coaster of emotions to a total stranger, especially one who’d probably never experienced what she and Eric had?

“It sounds like you’ve had a really hard time. But look at you.” Cory paused to do just that. “You started out with nothing, and you’ve obviously done well for yourself. And you’re here now to help your brother. And you’re not alone. You have lots of smart, capable people working on his case.”

Did Cory include herself among the smart and capable? Did she really care about her, about Eric? The doorbell interrupted her thoughts.

Cory stood, her expression puzzled. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Serena waited a few seconds, but discomfort settled in. She paced the kitchen while she waited. She’d spent the day with Cory, but hardly knew a thing about her. And she wanted to. She wanted to know all about her. Severe restraint kept her from glancing through the stack of mail scattered across the kitchen counter. The return address on the top envelope read “State Bar of Texas.” Of course. Cory was a lawyer. That much she knew. But she was also a woman with a big kitchen, and seemingly a big heart, even if she kept sections of it closed off. Probably to keep herself from being hurt. Now that was something she could relate to. She would do well to keep a cooler head, guard her emotions. Eric’s case was going to sorely test her abilities. She should start by leaving her, or his, lawyer’s home. As much as she enjoyed the connection between them, she had no business in Cory’s personal space.

Serena grabbed her purse and left the kitchen. She found Cory standing in the entryway with a wallet in her hand. An enormous vase loaded with red roses rested precariously on her hip. Cory looked up and Serena read chagrin in her expression.

“Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting. I was trying to find a tip. For the guy. He just left. The flower guy.” Cory stopped talking, but the fluster didn’t leave her face. Roses, fluster. Serena couldn’t help a quick glance at the card perched on a plastic fork in the forest of roses. Of course it was in an envelope. Didn’t matter what the card said, only one kind of relationship merited red roses. Wasn’t any of her business anyway. Time to leave.

“Let me set these down and then we can talk some more.”

“You put those in a vase. I’m going back to my hotel.”

“I’m sorry; you must have had an exhausting day. I forgot you flew in this morning.”

“Long day.” Serena kept the words short so she wouldn’t say what she really felt. She preferred Cory’s home to the drab motel, Cory’s company to the solitude she normally enjoyed. Her changing preferences confused her. As long as she was in Cory’s presence, she didn’t need to examine them. So why was she leaving? She shelved the introspection and opened the door. “Thanks for the coffee. For everything. I appreciate your kindness.”

She didn’t wait for Cory’s response before she shut the door behind her and walked to the car. As she drove away, the image foremost in her mind was the huge bouquet of deep red roses and Cory’s reaction to them. There were layers to Cory she may never see.

But she wanted to.

Cory called a cab the next morning. She’d be glad when her car was out of the shop and she had more freedom. Dallas wasn’t a city designed for those without wheels.

While she waited for the cab she filled a travel mug with a third cup of coffee. She needed at least that much to get through the first half of the day. No sleep. All she wanted was to crawl back in bed, but bed hadn’t been her friend the night before. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. Thoughts of her future, feelings about Serena—both had conspired to rob her of sleep.

Julie had left two messages on her phone, both stating she was lonely and urging her to call. She’d ignored the pleas. The massive arrangement of roses sat on her dining room table. Cory passed it on her way out the door and fingered the card. She’d read it several times yesterday, after Serena had left. “You deserve the best. Always.” It wasn’t signed.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t decipher a secret message in the sparse phrase. How like Julie, to be guarded even when expressing affection.

When she arrived at the clinic, she felt out of sorts. Other than foisting her off on Serena the day before, Paul hadn’t really discussed what her role would be while she lived out her sentence here at the clinic. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk, so Cory wandered the halls of the office in search of Paul. She found him in a makeshift library, hunched over what looked like several volumes of trial transcripts.

“Hi, Cory. Glad to see you back for another day.” Paul’s smile was infectious, and Cory couldn’t help but smile back. He tapped the shoulder of the man next to him and motioned for him to turn around. “Greg Levin, meet Cory Lance. Cory, Greg’s our senior writ counsel and he’s going to take the lead on the Eric Washington case.”

Greg offered his hand and Cory shook it. Would she be working with Greg? What would Serena think about him? Senior writ counsel. He certainly sounded experienced. Serena would want the best working on her brother’s case. She should be happy for her.

“Nice to meet you, Greg. I introduced Serena to an investigator yesterday, and I’m ready to get started. Just let me know what you’d like me to do.”

Greg shot a puzzled look at Paul who intervened. “Cory, I thought we’d have you work in our intake division. We have a few interns who could use guidance from a pro about evaluating whether a case fits our services. I’m sure Greg will let you know if he needs help on the Washington case, but why don’t you come with me now and I can introduce you to the rest of the staff.”

They were halfway down the hall before it hit her. She wasn’t going to be working on cases. She’d be pushing paper to serve her time. Paper about strangers. Not Eric. Not Serena.

She went through the motions as Paul introduced her around the office. She could barely remember anyone’s names, but then again, it didn’t seem important since she wouldn’t be sticking around. She did notice that Paul used delicate phrasing to describe her experience. She was by turns a “veteran trial attorney” and a “seasoned litigator.” Did the clinic employees know who she really was? Her name had been splashed all over the papers for a few weeks. Kind of hard to imagine they wouldn’t have a clue that the enemy was in their midst. Yet, Paul treated her like an equal, no judgment, no animus.

“Here’s where we have the students set up.” He motioned her into a small room, sparsely furnished with three folding tables and a scattering of mismatched chairs. “The interns usually don’t show up until after their morning classes, around ten. I’ll stick around until then and help you get started.” He pointed to a brass coat stand in the corner. “Make yourself comfortable. I realize it’s not the kind of space you’re used to, but we use most of the donations we receive for legal talent, not for furnishings.”

“No problem. I’m used to county digs. Not much plush about the offices at the courthouse.” Cory hung up her coat and settled in at one of the tables. Paul pulled over a box and sat beside her. He reached in and pulled out a rubber-banded stack of mail.

“We get literally hundreds of requests for help every month. The first step is weeding through the letters to figure out if there might be a viable claim. Next, we identify which cases need immediate attention. You might say intake is a bit like triage.”