Just Destiny (38 page)

“That’s
totally
different,” she said. It was different, but there was enough similarity to prick Jenny’s conscience. Perpetuating a false assumption to get people to give her what she wanted wasn’t so different from winning a game or a lawsuit—regardless of the cost. Both involved manipulating people. Jenny hung her head in shame.

“You’re right, it
is
different.” Steve folded his arms across his chest. “This was personal. One question. Why’d you tell the truth?”

“What?”

“Why’d you tell the truth about the baby being an accident?” When he looked at her, a lock of hair fell across his forehead, giving him a boyish look. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“Yeah, that’s on me. We should’ve asked, but to be honest,” he bit his lower lip, “I didn’t really want to know. Also if she asked, I figured you’d lie—nobody would’ve been able to prove otherwise.”

“I thought about it. I tried,” she confessed. “But I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“I would’ve known. Gabe would’ve known. It just seemed wrong.”

Hurt shimmered in his steady eyes. “But you had no problem lying to me.”

Jenny’s heart clench at his obvious pain. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she hated herself for hurting this sweet man. She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly before shrugging. “I didn’t really lie to you and Helen—it was more an oversight. An assumption. It just kind of snowballed.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve’s look of disbelief turned to ugly disgust. “We’ve shared a lot of personal stuff, Jen. We might have disagreed about things, but we’ve always been honest and trusted each other. At least we had that.”

Steve spun on his heel and walked into the garage without a backward glance. How could she tell him that even though he was her lawyer, he was about the last person she could tell the truth to—
because
they were so close. The pregnancy, her and Gabe’s fight, and then her running off that caused his death…she was so ashamed at how badly she’d handled it. It was too raw and it’d
all
been her fault; she couldn’t bear admitting that to Steve.

“Wait. I’m sorry.” She hurried after him, trotting by his side.

Steve waved a hand and didn’t look back. “Not now.”

“But—”

He went in the house and shut the door. The click echoed loudly in the garage. Jenny stared at the gleaming brass deadbolt. He’d locked her out.

Tears stabbed the back of her eyes as she stared at the scraped garage door. They’d had spats, but he’d always been willing to talk. She reached out to knock on the metal door, then drew back. He’d never turned his back on her before. He was really angry.

And he wondered why she hadn’t told Gabe about Michael?
That
was exactly why. Gabe would’ve felt betrayed and disappointed in her. He probably would have shut her out just like Steve had. The truth would have wrecked her marriage just as this little lie wrecked her and Steve’s friendship. And it would have hurt at least this much.

Jenny walked back to her house, his words echoing in her head.
We’ve always been honest with each other. At least we had that
. She’d really screwed up this time.

* * *

Stephanie Blair walked through her apartment, kicking off her high heels on the way to the kitchen and her favorite beer. She quickly cut a wedge of lime and squeezed it into her Corona. Untucking her white silk blouse as she walked, she sipped the beer, savoring the tangy bitterness from the lime. She dropped onto the overstuffed denim couch and sighed loudly. Unclasping the plastic clip holding her twisted long hair, she ruffled it, massaging the roots that had been pulled all day long. She bounced one leg restlessly, rehashing her disastrous day in court.

George Turner was a royal pain in the ass. No wonder the partners pawned him off on her. They’d told her they were giving her the case because it’d be better having a woman represent him, but now she knew the truth; he was a pain in the ass they didn’t want to deal with. It’s a good thing this wasn’t a jury trial, ’cause good old George was so offensive that even if they had an ironclad case, which they didn’t, the jurors would’ve found an excuse to hang him.

And the Huntington’s? Shit. How could she possibly have guessed that? And there’d been simply no way to defuse that bomb. Thanks again, George.

She propped her aching head against her fist and wiggled her toes. She needed a foot massage. She’d spent half the day on her feet questioning her client, racking her brain for any question that might remotely make him look good. And he’d called her stupid.

Something sharp snagged her foot.

“Youch!” She launched herself off the couch in time to see her cat dash away.

“Damn it, Clover.” She inspected her foot. Sure enough, a long run was laddering up her calf. She groaned. “Another pair of hose ruined. Thanks a bunch.”

The midsize calico came over, butting her head against Stephanie’s calf, winding around her in apology. She picked Clover up and returned to the sofa.

“
Now
you want love? You’re psychotic, cat. I don’t need this abuse; I’ve got George Turner, thank you very much.”

She sipped her beer, depressed. She’d gone into it knowing the case would be tough, but now it didn’t look as if they had a leg to stand on. The Harrisons had had a perfect marriage by all accounts. Gabe Harrison had adored his wife and was probably up in heaven wondering what the hell we stupid mortals were doing.

Sometimes, when things were going particularly badly, she could almost imagine him yelling down, “Give her the damn sperm, you fools!”

And then there had been the embarrassment of having that prick Delaney chew her ass up and down over a simple misunderstanding. Embryos? Sperm? They were close. She hadn’t deliberately tried to slip anything by him. How mortifying.

The only chance she might have is to play up Jenny Harrison’s proclivity for lying. As a witness, she came across as the perfect grieving widow. And her attorneys had prepared her well. Why couldn’t
she
be her client, instead of good old George?

The only time she’d seem Jenny’s composure falter was when Stephanie had taken a shot in the dark and asked if she was Michael’s mother. Jenny’d denied it of course, like she knew she would, but she’d paled and gotten this funny look on her face. At least she’d succeeded in throwing her off balance. Jenny had been totally unprepared for her next question and had to admit that she’d lied to the guard. But she sure had looked funny…almost sickly. Almost as if it were true.

Her thumb moved back and forth, wiping the condensation from the beer bottle, then suddenly stopped. My God, it couldn’t be true, could it? Could she have perjured herself? If Michael was her son, she would have been a pregnant teenager. If she perjured herself and already had a child, her case would be blown out of the water. No judge in his right mind would give her the sperm.

Sick, Stephanie, really sick. You’re grasping at straws now. Really desperate. But…what if it’s true?

Crazier things happened. She’d check it out first thing in the morning. She picked up the meowing cat and poured a little beer in the empty candy dish on the coffee table to shut her up. Maybe she’d get lucky. Just maybe she could salvage this mess yet.

She smiled and raised her beer to the cat. “Cheers.”

* * *

Jenny dragged herself out of bed the next morning, wondering if she’d be driving herself to court today. She’d called Steve four times last night, trying to apologize again, but he refused to pick up. She’d marched across the driveway three times, but each time she chickened out before she got to his door. He was really mad. She had no idea what he’d do if she forced her presence on him.

As the garage door rolled up and Jenny opened the Jeep’s door, Steve’s car pulled up the driveway. He politely got out and opened the passenger door for her. Jenny shut her car and the garage doors and climbed into his car. Without the slightest glance in her direction, Steve backed out of the driveway and headed downtown.

Though Steve hadn’t abandoned her, he wasn’t ready to breech the chasm between them either; ten minutes of her nervous chatter was met with monosyllabic answers. Jenny couldn’t stand the way he shut her out. “Steve, please. We have to discuss this.”

“Not now.”

“Then when?”

“Look,” through hard eyes, he looked at her for the first time that morning, “you stepped over the line. What you did was not only stupid but manipulative—and that’s what I’m having trouble with.

“As your attorney, that was key information we should’ve had. It was our mistake in overlooking it—that’s what comes from being emotionally invested in the client—but you deliberately withheld it. You made us look stupid. I know this baby means a lot to you, but I won’t be made a fool and I won’t be manipulated.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not even by you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Back off, Jen.” He looked at his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “You still want that baby, don’t you?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then concentrate on that.”

“But—”

“
Shut
up.” A muscle at his jaw pulsed. “Please.”

Jenny felt empty, totally bereft. Gone was her best friend and in his place was this cold stranger-lawyer person. And she’d done it. She had no one to blame but herself. The interminable ride downtown finally ended, and for once, Jenny was glad of the distraction the swarming reporters provided. Now that the trial was winding down, the press seemed more energized than before, as if expecting a spectacular finale.

Depressed, Jenny took her seat next to the ever-present Helen and was surprised to see that George’s attorney wasn’t there yet. Ms. Blair hurried in just as the judge called the room to order. She tossed her raincoat over the back of her chair and slid into her seat.

He inclined his head toward Ms. Blair. “Nice of you to join us, counselor. Are we ready for closing arguments?”

“No, Your Honor.” Ms. Blair smoothed a hair back into her twist as she withdrew a document from her briefcase. “We request leave to reopen the case due to new evidence that goes directly to the credibility of the defendant.”

“What new evidence? Your Honor, I object,” Helen said, standing.

“Counselors approach the bench.”

Jenny looked uncertainly at Helen, who ignored her. Steve rounded the table from his side and joined them in front of the judge. A nervous chill quivered through Jenny’s stomach. Helen looked concerned. Uh-oh. Her gaze went to Helen’s blank legal pad. Empty. No new picture; Helen had been paying close attention instead of doodling. The judge and attorneys discussed the new evidence with hushed whispers Jenny couldn’t hear.

Finally, the attorneys returned to their tables. The judge called the bailiff forward and whispered something to him, who in turn went to the court reporter.

“Counselors, Mrs. Harrison, join me in my chambers, please. Ms. Johnson, you have five minutes with your client.”

“What’s going on? What’s the matter?” Jenny whispered.

Helen moved her and Steve toward the front of the courtroom, away from the crowd. Turning her back to the room, Helen grabbed her arm in a firm grip. “They’ve got Michael’s birth certificate. They know you’re his birth mother.”

A buzzing sound filled Jenny’s ears and she felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her lightheaded. She glanced at George’s attorney. How had they found out?

Over her reading glasses, Helen’s serious blue eyes stared at Jenny. “We’re moving into chambers for your testimony. The judge will issue a gag order to protect Michael, but you’re going to have to come up with some pretty solid answers—fast.”

Judge Delaney’s chambers were similar to Judge Moore’s without the plants and homey touches. Definitely a much more stark, no-nonsense kind of room. The judge seated himself in a cushy high-backed leather chair behind his desk and motioned for Jenny to sit on his left. The other attorneys took seats nearby.

The bailiff swore her in and Ms. Blair began. “Mrs. Harrison, are you Michael Campbell’s mother?”

“No.” Her answer was swift and sure.

Ms. Blair reworded the question. “Did you give birth to Michael Campbell?”

“Yes.”

She handed Jenny the birth certificate. “Do you remember filling this out?”

“Yes.”

“So you lied yesterday when you said that Michael was not your son?”

“No. He isn’t my son. I signed adoption papers when he was three days old. My parents are his legal parents. Michael was raised as my brother. I never mothered him and I have no parental rights. All I did was give birth to him.”
And love him
.

“How did you come to be pregnant?”

“The usual way.” Jenny couldn’t resist the Alex-like answer.

“Objection, relevancy,” Helen said.

“Goes to character.”

“Sustained. Move on, counselor.”

“Mrs. Harrison, have you given birth to any other children?”

“Not live birth.”

“Have you ever been pregnant besides that one time and the one resulting in the miscarriage?”

“No.”

“How many men have you had sexual intercourse with?”

“Objection,” Helen called out, indignant.

Jenny closed her eyes in despair; this was getting
really
personal. Three, Michael’s father, Jake, a guy she’d dated for three years in college, and Gabe.

“Goes to character.” Ms. Blair raised Michael’s birth certificate and waved it in the air. “The witness has already proven herself to be a consummate liar. If she’s also promiscuous, she’s certainly not suitable to raise children.”

Helen turned to the judge. “Your Honor, we’re not here to determine if Jenny Harrison is suitable to raise children, the issue is if Gabe Harrison would have wanted her to have his child. Pursuing this line of questioning is pointless.

“Sure, in her youth Jenny made some stupid mistakes and got pregnant, but she did
not
have an abortion. She did the responsible thing and gave her baby up for adoption—to people she knew to be loving, caring parents. She should be lauded for her courage. It took selfless love and bravery to put the well-being of her baby above that of herself. Yesterday Jenny answered Ms. Blair’s question about Michael’s parentage truthfully. She is
not
the child’s mother.