Informed Consent (3 page)

Denise
shrugged.
 
“Really?
 
I have no idea who that woman is.”

“Your
husband does.”
 
He shoved a stack
of forms out of his way, settled more deeply in his chair, and pulled the
keyboard towards him.

The
Captain stuck his head out from his office.
 
“Take the cuffs off, Harrison.”

Ushered
out of the room an hour later, her hands full of official papers, Denise saw
the tall woman moving in her direction from across the room.
 
This time the woman offered her hand.

“I owe
you a big thanks.” Denise smiled.
 
“I don’t even know who you are!”

The woman
stood at least three inches taller than Denise.
 
She smiled down at her.
 
“Glad I could help.
 
I’m Sam Donaldson.
 
Actually,
Samantha Donaldson Cross.”

Denise’s
stomach dropped like a boulder to her feet.

Samantha
took her arm and propelled her out the door, moving her smoothly into a parking
lot adjacent to the station.
 

“My car’s
right over here.”
 
She pointed to a
sporty looking Audi.
 
“I’ll drive
you home.”
 
She aimed a fob at her
car and reached for the driver’s door.
 
Denise stood dumb, where the woman had left her.

“Get in
Denise,” Samantha said.
 
“I’m
taking you home.
 
Come on, get in.”

Her feet
were like lead.
 
She really didn’t
feel them hitting the ground.
 
Apparently her brain had simply short circuited.
 
Nothing.
 
Nothing was going on in her head.
 
She was going to drown.

She
missed the door handle on the first try but eventually made it inside and got
the door shut.

Samantha
had already buckled herself in and now she put the key in the ignition and the
motor caught, managing to sound more expensive than an American car.She turned
to look Denise in the eye and gestured towards the floor where Denise had
dropped her purse.

“Give me
a dollar.”

Denise
stared at her, mute.
 
The woman
wanted a dollar?
 
She was getting
the new client discount for whatever Sam had said to get her off?

“A dollar,”
Sam repeated.
 

Denise
didn’t have a dollar in bills.
 
She
pulled out her ATM card, and a stack of credit cards.
 

Samantha
sighed.
 
“Look around in
there.
 
There has to be some change
somewhere in that thing.”

Denise
came up with six dimes, three nickels and eight pennies and let them fall into
Sam’s outstretched hand.

Samantha
dropped them into a cup holder.
 

“You just
hired me.”
 
She slid the elegant
little car into gear and backed them out of the parking space.

“I can’t
discuss your business.”
 
She added
as she headed for the street.
 
“With anyone.
 
Except you of
course.”

Denise
started to cry.

***

“So, I’m married to
Andrew’s brother Neil.”
 
Samantha
started talking once she merged into traffic.
 
Denise kept her mouth clamped shut and concentrated on
stemming the river running down her face.

 
“We’ve heard a lot about you.”

 
The words hung in the air. Ominously.

Neither woman spoke
again until Samantha pulled up at the gates of the compound.
 
Denise scrabbled at the door.
 
“I can walk.
 
It takes forever to get the damn gate open.”

 
Samantha’s hand came up and rested on
Denise’s arm.
 
“Let me come in,
Denise.
 
We need to talk.”

Denise expelled a
breath.
 
“It’s 123454321.” She sat
back in her seat.

 
Samantha lowered her window and pushed
in the code. There was silence again as they waited for the gate to make its
slow journey.Luckily, it only changed its mind twice.

“What’s up with that?”

Denise shook her
head.
 
“I don’t know.
 
It’s always been that way.”

“I’ll bet it drives
Andrew crazy.”

Denise’s eyes opened
wide and she opened her mouth to speak.

A laugh from Samantha
cut Denise off.
 
“They’re
all
compulsive about that kind of
stuff.”
 

Seeing the question on
Denise’s face, she added, “They like things to work the way they’re supposed
to.”
 
The woman shrugged.
 
“They like to keep their women safe.”

Denise’s mouth pulled
into a tight line.
 
Mentally she
added this nugget to her list of
Things
to Keep in Mind
. And while she was on mental lists, she started a new one
labeled: Things to do Right Away.
 
She put “Fix the freaking gate” at the top of that one.

Samantha stopped the car
in front of the house.
 
She
scrunched down in her seat to peer out of the windshield.
 
“Criminy.
 
That
is
pretty
worn down.”

Denise shoved her door
open, climbed out and tried to slam it behind her.
 
Since Audi’s were expensive, well made cars, the sound
failed to truly express her feelings.

“I gather my house has
been the source of concern?”
 

“I know, awkward. Let’s
go inside.
 
Never mind the house.
We need to talk about the trouble you’re in.

“With the courts,” she
clarified.

Denise strode up the
steps to the front door.
 
The
horrible feeling this elegant, self-assured woman knew much, much more than
Denise wanted her to, was slowly but surely filling her chest cavity.
 

 
The door wasn’t locked because it never
was.
 
She shoved it open and
gestured to the other woman.
 

“They don’t like
unlocked front doors, either.”

 
Denise glared.

 
Samantha grinned. She shot Denise an
apologetic glance, though.
 

“Look.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I’ll keep our conversation strictly business if you want but
I’m trying to be helpful.
 
I
thought you might want to talk about it.
 
Especially in light of today.”

Why was it that her
spine suddenly seemed to take on a life of its own, freezing into the rigidly
offended position she associated with her dead grandmother’s reaction to a bad
smell?

 
“We’ll talk about the legal aspects, of
course.”
 
Samantha hadn’t noticed
Denise’s reaction.“Remember, we have a relationship forbidding me to discuss
your business with anyone.
 
You
don’t have to worry about me telling Andrew. Or Neil, for that matter. We can
let it go at the legal stuff, if you want.
 
Or we can cut the shit and talk about how freaked out you
are to discover Andrew expects you to accept domestic discipline.”

Finishing her sentence,
Samantha dropped her purse and briefcase into a nearby chair, and gestured at a
sofa.
 
“Shall we sit?”
 
She didn’t wait for an answer but let folded
herself gracefully onto an overstuffed couch.

 
A flush burned its way up Denise’s
cheeks.
 
She sank into a low chair,
crossed her arms over her stomach, and rocked forward.
 

“What did he do?
 
Discuss me with the whole freaking
family?”
 
Oh hell, she’d started to
cry again.
 
“Did he call to announce
he’d spanked me as a pre-nup?”

Samantha leapt up and
moved across to Denise, resting a hand on her head.
 
“It’s not like that Denise. It isn’t gossip.
 
Neil is Andrew’s big brother and he’s
married so yeah, Drew is going to look to him for advice.
 
That’s the kind of relationship they have.

“Look, what I’m trying
to tell you is this -- Andrew’s a Cross.
 
Neil’s a Cross and I married him. They’re all alike. I can help you. Or
not.”

 
No more gentle tear drops; Denise
dissolved into a torrential river of tears.
 
A gasket sprung loose from something major.
 
Unable to stop, she buried her face in
Samantha’s lap.
 

 
Samantha’s hand stroked Denise’s head.
That made Denise’s heart ache even more. “I wish I’d never met him.”

 
Samantha said nothing.
 
She stuck to patting.

When Denise’s finally looked
up, her face streaked with tears, she said, “I don’t get it!
 
How could you let someone treat you
like that? You’re gorgeous.
 
You’re
obviously smart; you’re a lawyer for god’s sake!”
 

“What’s that got to do
with it?”

Well, that was
annoying.
 
Pretending she hadn’t
asked a perfectly reasonable question.
 
Denise dashed at the tears on her face.

 
“I’m sorry I lost it.” Her voice wobbled
so she left the room, muttering about needing a tissue, and walked toward the
kitchen.

“Something to drink?”
She called back into the other room before she stuck her head under the cold
water faucet.
 

 
“Sure.
 
Anything.
 
Now
answer my question.
 
What do looks
and professions have to do with anything?”

 
Denise yanked open the frig and bent
over, peering in.
 
“I have soda,
mineral water and juice.
 
Or do you
want something hot?”

 
“God no.
 
It’s hot enough outside.
 
I can help you. Quit avoiding.”

Denise moved back into
the room her hands full of bottles.
 
She sighed and sat down across from the other woman.
 
“I’m a mess.
 
I flunked out of school, I have no job and I can’t drive. My
parents died. I have no idea where my mother got this bizarre idea to make my
marriage to Andrew part of her will, but she did. Now my brother’s depend on
me.
 
So I had no choice.
 
Otherwise--forget it. No offense, but I
wouldn’t have married Andrew for a billion bucks.”

Samantha looked at
Denise for a moment, evaluating.
 
“Your parents knew Andrew, right?”

Denise nodded.

“Did they like him?”

Denise shot the woman a
disgusted look.
 
“They thought he
walked on water.”

 
“Maybe that’s why they did it
then.”
 
It was a statement, not a
question and Denise scowled.

“I can’t believe they
even made a will.
 
My parents
barely paid enough attention to pay the bills.
 
Suddenly they decide to make a will?”

 
Samantha looked at Denise. “You kinda
wonder where they got the idea, eh?”

“If I ever find out I’ll
kill the person.
 
I suppose one of
my Aunts must have suggested it.Maybe one of them planned to off my parents so
she and the other biddies would inherit.”
 
Denise looked thoughtful.

“If that’s what
happened, if my aunts tried to plant the idea, my parents would have loved to
arrange it another way, one more F-you to the sisters.”

Samantha nodded. “OK.
End of that subject.” She gave a slight shrug. “So… How’s it going? It has to
be worse, the adjustment, not even wanting to be married to the man.
 
Did you like him? Love him? Before you
found out Andrew wanted a Head of Household deal?”

 
“Is that what they call it?” Denise
twisted the cap off a bottle of water she’d brought in for herself.

Samantha kept her eyes
on Denise.
 
“Domestic
Discipline.
 
Taken In Hand.
 
Head of Household.
 
All the same, basically.”