Just Destiny (30 page)

“Mom, don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

“I hate this,” she muttered through tense lips.

She looked so miserable that Jenny felt compelled to put aside her own anxiety and reassure her agitated mother. “It’s okay. Just answer the questions as best you can.”

“But it’ll sound so…” she struggled to find a tactful way to verbalize the truth. “I feel so helpless.”

“I know. But I
did
make mistakes. I was immature and made some poor decisions; there’s no getting around it. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

Her mother nodded abruptly, but didn’t look very reassured as she took the seat next to Alex. Her dad smiled and squeezed Jenny’s shoulder before sitting beside them. At a gesture from Helen, Jenny excused herself and walked uncertainly toward the long table where Helen sat.

After lowering herself onto the cold, hard chair, she looked up in surprise when Steve took the seat on her other side. She returned his smile, feeling more secure flanked by friends. Did he get to sit with them because he was an attorney?

The bailiff called, “All rise, the honorable Judge Delaney presiding.”

Judge Andrew Delaney swept into the room, moving to the bench in lithe, unhurried strides. He still looked as young as Jenny remembered. She glanced at the empty seats where the jury would sit—except there was no jury in this case. Her fate completely rested on the wisdom and sympathy of this young stud.

What’d he know about life and the law? What’d he know about being fair? She searched his unlined face, sure he’d never felt tragedy. How would he know what it was like to lose your whole life? He didn’t even have a hair out of place.

Totally composed, he sat and scanned the room like a king surveying his subjects. “You may be seated. Bailiff?”

“Turner vs. Harrison, case number CJ99-1214.”

“Are the parties present?”

Helen and George’s attorney rose, and Jenny was shocked to hear Steve’s deep baritone chime in, “We are, Your Honor.”

She stared at Steve in astonishment, but he’d already reseated himself and was concentrating on the judge. What was Steve doing? He wasn’t a part of this. He didn’t approve of her having Gabe’s baby and didn’t want to his name linked to her controversial case, yet he’d just publicly declared his allegiance to her. What was going on?

She turned to ask Helen, but the older woman was busy sketching on her legal pad, drawing a…Jenny leaned closer. A long, skinny flower of some sort. With sure quick strokes, she quickly penciled in something else over it. Another flower?

As George’s lady attorney stood, preparing for her opening argument, Jenny sat totally perplexed. What was going on here? Suddenly she had two attorneys, and one was so unconcerned about the whole proceedings she was doodling all over her legal pad, drawing flowers and…Jenny tilted her head to better see. A bird? A humming bird hovered over the flower. What kind of a lawyer drew nature pictures in court, instead of listening sharply, planning cutting witty arguments to make the plaintiff look silly?

And her other attorney wasn’t even supposed to be there. What was going on? Confused, Jenny wanted to call a timeout, but nobody else seemed to have a problem with the way things were proceeding. When and how had she stepped through the looking glass into this topsy-turvy world?

Jenny fished her own pen out of her purse. Hesitating a second, she worried about ruining Helen’s drawing before deciding that she was paying Helen to lawyer, not draw. She reached over to write on Helen’s pad in quick tense print.
Since when is Steve on our team?

Helen barely paused in her shading to answer in flowing loopy script:
since we filed an appearance of additional counsel.

Why?

Wanted to
, she wrote back before sketching a long flowing stem.

He wanted to?
Well that was insightful
, Jenny thought. She wanted to pursue it further, but needed to pay attention to the opposing counsel’s opening statement—someone had to. She cast a worried frown at Helen, who was busy adding another hummingbird to her picture.

Ms. Blair, a statuesque lady wearing the standard navy suit and pumps, had coiled her burnished light brown hair into a long, tight twist held together with a gold clip. She wore a two-toned watch and gold hoops in her ears. Her facial features were unremarkable, neither too long nor short, nor too heavy or scant, just ordinary. But as she began to speak, Jenny was mesmerized by the soothing deep timbre of her voice. Her voice was anything but ordinary.

“Your Honor, the deceased, Gabe Harrison, was orphaned when only twelve years old. At that time, he went to live with his mother’s brother, George Turner, as stipulated in her will. Gabe’s uncle and aunt had not been blessed with children of their own and welcomed their nephew into their family, showering him with love.

George’s wife died unexpectedly when Gabe was only a teenager. Despite the inherent difficulties of single parenthood, Gabe and his uncle grew even closer. The reason I’ve explained all this history is to prove that George Turner, the man who raised Gabe Harrison during his formative years, is the
one
person who knew and understood the deceased best.

“It is our belief, and we will prove, that Jenny Harrison is an immature woman incapable of raising a child on her own. We will prove that Gabe Harrison would not have wanted more children and furthermore, he’d certainly never want his child to be raised by a single parent. We contend that in coercing a urologist to recover her husband’s sperm, Jennifer Harrison violated her husband’s rights of procreational choice and committed an unconstitutional invasion of his privacy.

“Furthermore, we will prove that Mrs. Harrison’s desire to have her dead husband’s baby is motivated by greed. In addition, we will demonstrate that creating a child and raising it under these less than ideal circumstances is not in the best interest of the potential child. Nobody but Jennifer Harrison would benefit by this course of action, and if allowed, it’s possible that a great many people could be damaged by it—not just this family, but all those in the future who would be affected by such an ill-advised precedent.”

She gathered her notes and, without a glance their way, sat down and folded her hands in front of her.

Ms. Blair was so fervent in her statements that when she ended, Jenny had the impulse to yell “Amen” and clap. Instead, she wrapped her arms across her knotted stomach. Surprisingly, on cue, Helen dropped her pen and replaced Stephanie Blair at the podium—without any written notes, which worried Jenny.

For the first time since the judge walked into the room, her attorney looked aware of her surroundings and proceedings. Worried about what Helen might say, Jenny didn’t know whether to be heartened or dismayed.

Helen pushed back her jacket to bury her hands deep in her skirt pockets. She took a deep breath, looked at the plaintiff through wide eyes and raised eyebrows one long minute before turning to the judge.

“Wow,” she said. “How dramatic. Ms. Blair would have us believe that the fate of thousands of unborn children lay on the outcome of this trial. I think the plaintiff is reading far too much into the circumstances. The situation here is really very simple, Your Honor.

“The facts will show that Jenny and Gabe Harrison had a wonderful, loving marriage. By all accounts, they adored each other. This is an indisputable fact,” she said, letting it sink in. She strode out from behind the podium. “They went away one weekend last October to celebrate their second wedding anniversary and Jenny’s pregnancy, when Gabe was suddenly tragically killed in a bicycling accident.” She raised her eyebrows, her glance sweeping over both the plaintiff and the judge. “An accident that might have killed Jenny too if not for her husband’s quick response in pushing her out of the way of the oncoming vehicle. And then Jenny suffered a miscarriage.

“As I said before, this situation is quite simple. It’s not fraught with Shakespearean subterfuge or deep dark secrets. When Gabe Harrison was suddenly killed, his wife was denied not only her husband, but also the child they’d created. A terrible double loss. All we’re asking is that she be allowed to recoup a little of what she lost that heartbreaking weekend.

“We will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jennifer Harrison will make a model parent, given the chance. And although they knew each other only three years, the unique and intimate bond that Gabe and Jenny shared transcends time. As Dr. Harrison’s devoted wife, Jenny is the perfect person to know her husband’s will. She’s the
only
person to judge his intent in this situation.

“Mrs. Harrison’s desire to have her husband’s child is perfectly normal and natural. And yet, we’re here today because of the machinations of a jealous, bitter man who is bent on keeping others from gaining solace during this difficult time of grief.”

Pausing, Helen’s face tightened with the long, hard look she gave George. “We will prove that George Turner is a man so steeped in his own rage and grief that he’ll do anything to prevent Jenny Harrison from conceiving his nephew’s child. Mr. Turner was furious that Mrs. Harrison honored her husband’s wishes and donated his organs despite Mr. Turner’s objections, so he’s trying to punish her.

“It’s sad.” She sighed. “But it’s as simple as that. There are no devious plots here, Your Honor. Jenny Harrison doesn’t want a thing from anybody, except the opportunity to create and love her and her husband’s child.” Helen finished and returned to her seat.

Not bad
, Jenny thought. Helen’s logical, passionate appeal appeased her, renewing her confidence in her attorney.

“The plaintiff may call his first witness,” the judge said.

Ms. Blair stood. “The plaintiff calls Mary Campbell to the stand.”

The bailiff swore her mother in. Mom sat in the witness box; nervously fingering the pearls Dad gave her for their thirtieth anniversary. She looked quite matronly in her black dress and lacy white blouse. She squared her shoulders as if suddenly aware she was the center of attention or as if preparing for an unpleasant combative task.

Ms. Blair smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Mrs. Campbell.”

Jenny’s mom watched her warily, as if looking for a double meaning in the greeting. “Good morning.”

Ms. Blair quickly led her mother through several basic background questions. Then, “Mrs. Campbell, how would you describe your relationship with your daughter?”

“We’re close.”

“Have you always been close?”

She shifted in her seat. “Not always. No, but then most parents have difficulties with their children at one time or another.”

Ms. Blair raised an eyebrow. “And when were these difficult years?”

“Mostly during her teenage years.”

“Mostly? Isn’t it true that you opposed your daughter’s marriage?”

“Yes.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I was bothered by the age difference between her and Gabe.”

“And?”

“And what? I was wrong. Jen—”

Ms Blaire took a few steps toward the witness box. “Isn’t it true that you thought your daughter was too immature for marriage to anybody?”

“I—”

“Didn’t you make a comment similar to that?”

“I don’t remember. I may have,” her mother mumbled.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” Ms. Blair backed away, satisfied. “So you weren’t happy about the proposed marriage between Dr. Harrison and your daughter?”

“Not at the time.”

“If the thought of your daughter marrying a much older man with grown children of his own bothered you, it stands to reason that you might have been concerned about their having children. Were you concerned about any possible children that would come of the union?”

A worried look flickered across her mother’s face as she shifted in her seat. “Maybe. I guess so.”

“And what did your daughter say in response to these concerns?”

They’d gone back and forth about this question, but there was no way around it. Her mother’s gaze sought hers, silently apologizing. “Jenny and I were angry with each other and not getting along at that point.”

“What did your daughter say?” Ms. Blair pressed.

Her mother sighed. “She said that she didn’t intend to have children.”

“She didn’t intend to have
any
children?” Ms. Blair sounded shocked.

“Yes. But Gabe—”

“She didn’t want to have Dr. Harrison’s child?”

“Not then, but she changed her mind, obviously since she—”

“After he died. Yes, we know. That’s why we’re here today.”

“No, before,” her mother protested. “Don’t forget the miscarriage. She’d been pregnant.”

“Ahh—the miscarriage. At five weeks,” she said, as if five weeks wasn’t actually pregnant. But she’d seen the ER report during discovery. She knew Jenny hadn’t made it up. “Did your daughter confide in you that she and Dr. Harrison were trying to start a family?”

Her mom shook her head. “No.”

“No? As close as you two are?” Ms. Blair feigned surprise, then tilted her head to the side, as if curious. “When
did
your daughter give you the happy news that she was expecting?”

“When?”

“Yes, when did Jenny tell you she was pregnant?”

“Gosh, I don’t know exactly,” Mom stalled.

“An approximation will do.”

Her mother frowned. “I guess it was when I helped Jenny sort Gabe’s things.”

“And when was that?”

What did it matter?
Jenny wondered.

“After the holidays.”

“January? February? March?” She raised her eyebrows, as if shocked. “Four months after Dr. Harrison died?”

“I guess.”

“Four months after your son-in-law’s death is the first you learned of your daughter’s pregnancy. Then it stands to reason that you didn’t know about the miscarriage until then either, correct?”

Jenny saw where Ms. Blair was leading them. Good God, did she have to drag it out?

Mom paused, as if realizing she’d been trapped. Her finger and thumb rubbed the pearls harder. “Yes.”

“Your daughter suffered the traumatizing loss of her baby, yet didn’t tell her own mother about it until months later? Don’t you find it a bit strange that she wouldn’t have mentioned it sooner?”