The Choice (42 page)

During her lunch period, Sandy felt multiple eyes following her down the line at the salad bar. When she sat with some fellow teachers, the conversation around the table stopped. Several women greeted her, but no one asked her any questions. She ate her salad in silence. The other people at the table drifted away, leaving her alone with Kelli Bollinger.

“I think people are afraid that if they're seen with you, some of the taint will rub off,” Kelli said.

“That's understandable. It's never smart to take on the administration in public education.”

“Unless you're doing the right thing.”

“Any advice?” Sandy asked.

“I realize you can't tell me anything that Maria has shared with you in confidence, but you have support among the staff.”

“Is that why the other teachers left the table as soon as they could?”

“Everyone knows you have a good head on your shoulders and wouldn't do anything improper or unprofessional.” Kelli leaned forward. “And no one on the faculty has as much support in the general community as you do. I mean, every woman who's been a cheerleader during the past twenty-five years would rally for you if asked to do so. And they'd make their husbands join them.”

“This isn't going to be a popularity contest with women carrying signs in front of the school,” Sandy replied. “It's moved into the court system. I've had to hire a lawyer.”

Kelli's eyes grew big. “Then you may need to take your crowd to the courtroom.”

Sandy hadn't thought about turning the lawsuit into a public spectacle. Images of former students carrying signs outside the federal courtroom in Atlanta flashed through her mind.

“That's something I need to mention to my lawyer,” Sandy replied. “My head's still spinning about what's happened.”

“And I can pray for you,” Kelli said.

“Please do, but more for Maria than me. She's scared and confused.”

Right there, sitting at the table, Kelli started praying in Spanish. Her eyes were open, and no one nearby realized what she was doing. But Sandy understood. Hearing prayers for herself and Maria rolling off Kelli's lips made tears come to Sandy's eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Sandy said in Spanish when Kelli finished. “I've spoken Spanish almost my whole life but never in prayer. I know God understands every language, but in some strange way, it makes sense to pray for Maria in Spanish.”

“Spanish is a language of the heart.” Kelli smiled, touching her chest. “And the desire of your heart is to help this girl.”

Kelli got up from the table.

“Call me if you need me,” she said. “I mean it.”

As she watched Kelli walk away, the isolation Sandy had felt minutes before was gone. Instead, phrases the Spanish teacher sent heavenward stayed with her.

TWENTY-NINE

M
aria stopped by Sandy's classroom at the end of day and told her Carol Ramsey had canceled the appointment with her.

“Did she set another time?” Sandy asked.

“No. She sent a note to my teacher telling me not to come. That's all.”

“Okay,” Sandy said, relieved. “Mr. Lane has a copy of the papers you and your father received. I'll let you know what he says about them.”

Maria seemed on the verge of saying something else. Sandy waited. The girl wrung her hands together.

“What is it, Maria?” Sandy asked.

Maria hesitated, then shook her head.

“No.”

Maria didn't need another hug. It seemed a new problem had appeared in the girl's world. Sandy wanted to ask about it but held back.

“If you want to talk later, call my cell phone,” Sandy said. “Do you still have the number?”

“Yes.”

While on her afternoon walk Sandy's phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number without a caller ID, and she suspected it was Maria calling from a borrowed phone. She switched Nelson's leash to her other hand and answered the call.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Lincoln, it's Jeremy Lane. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Yes, I'm walking my dog. Did you receive the attorney-client contract and the legal papers served on Maria and her father?”

“Yes, and this afternoon I did some preliminary investigation into both matters. I think the women's group has two goals. First, to create a strong judicial precedent making it illegal for public educators to influence pregnant students not to have an abortion. Second, to expand the use of state guardianship laws to authorize third-party control of a pregnant teenager's reproductive choices.”

“That's horrible.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“I want to frame the other side's position to sound shocking, horrible, terrible, and any similar adjective. This type of case will likely be as much a media battle as a legal one.”

“I don't want a media battle, but both Ben and a teacher at the school told me the same thing. I just want to protect Maria and her baby.”

“It's not always possible to control the boundaries of a legal fight. I'm preparing a sheet of talking points for you to use if you're contacted by the press. The summary I gave you a minute ago will be on that list.”

Sandy couldn't imagine herself standing in front of a bank of microphones.

“I'm not sure I'm prepared for this.”

“You aren't. No one is. This is way beyond my comfort zone as a lawyer, but after I read the motion, something rose up inside me. I talked to my mother about it last night, and she believes strongly that I'm supposed to help you and Maria.”

“You told her about me?”

“I didn't give her your name, of course, but I told her what you were facing. She's been more of a zealot about this issue than I have.”

“That makes sense.”

“What? I didn't catch that.”

“That's good.” Sandy thought about Ben's concerns regarding Jeremy's inexperience. “Do you still think it would be a good idea to bring in outside help, especially if all this media stuff might happen?”

“Maybe, but the lawyer representing the women's organization is similar to me. He's a plaintiff's lawyer who specializes in cases against drug companies. He doesn't have a background in constitutional litigation, and I suspect he took the case because someone he knew asked him to. I talked to him briefly. He's been told you're a domineering, right-wing authority figure trying to force a mentally limited pregnant teenager with poor English skills to have a baby that is the result of a rape or incest.”

“That sounds bad too.”

“He's doing the same thing I am. Are you prepared to hear a news reporter repeat that about you as if it were true?”

“No.”

“There is a way to keep that from happening.”

“What is it?”

“Agree to cut off all contact with Maria now. We would enter into a consent order similar to the type used in cases of domestic abuse. You'd be prohibited from being around Maria or communicating with her in any way. If you did, you'd be subject to contempt of court.”

“I'm not going to agree to that.”

“I knew you wouldn't, but I had to let you know it was an option.”

“Then what's next?”

“Does Maria want me to represent her in the petition to have her declared incompetent?”

Sandy told him about her conversation with Maria.

“I need to meet with Maria and her father,” Jeremy said. “And it might be better if you're not present or serving as the translator.”

“Why?”

“Because it will weaken the argument that you're manipulating the situation.”

“Okay,” Sandy said. “I felt pressured not to say much to Maria when I talked to her earlier today. There's a Spanish teacher at the school who knows what's going on. She's served as a translator on medical mission trips for doctors. Her accent and vocabulary are top-notch.”

“I'm not sure it's a good idea to use a teacher from your school. Let me think about it.”

“For a domineering, authoritarian teacher, I don't have much say in what happens, do I?”

“Because you aren't.”

Sandy and Nelson reached the end of her driveway. Betsy's car was parked beside the fence. Betsy got out and started walking to her. She stopped when she saw that Sandy was on the phone. Sandy lowered the phone to her side.

“It's him,” she said in a low voice to Betsy.

Betsy nodded. Sandy returned the phone to her ear and drew closer to Betsy.

“Excuse me,” Jeremy said. “I missed that.”

“Uh, I'm home now, and I was talking to Ben's wife.”

Betsy, a big smile on her face, pointed to herself and then the phone. Sandy shook her head. She wasn't going to let Betsy talk to Jeremy.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “I'll send you an e-mail attachment with suggestions for your comments if you're contacted by a reporter.”

“Can't I just refer them to you?”

“You can, but it's more powerful when a person who's been sued speaks on her own behalf instead of hiding behind her lawyer.”

“And you're not worried I'll say something that can be used against us in court?”

“A little bit, but what you've done shouldn't be illegal in America.”

The call ended.

“I just wanted to hear his voice,” Betsy said. “Was he giving you advice about the lawsuit?”

“Yes.”

“I told Ben not to waste his time trying to find another lawyer. Nothing could be more powerful than an adopted son defending his birth mother who's helping a pregnant teenager choose life for her child. Jeremy standing in the middle of the courtroom is exhibit A of the potential God has put in each human being. How dramatic!”

“Yeah,” Sandy sighed. “Everyone is telling me there is going to be plenty of drama in my life for a while. Come inside and I'll show you the pictures.”

Betsy stayed for over an hour. Her enthusiasm helped restore Sandy's excitement.

“I'd better get going,” Betsy said, looking at the clock on the microwave. “I'm not cooking supper for Ben, but the least I can do is be there when he gets home to take me out to dinner. Do you want to join us?”

“No, thanks. I need some alone time.”

Betsy gave Sandy a hug.

“And don't worry about the money to pay Jeremy. I told Ben I'm going to organize a Sandy Lincoln Defense Fund. You won't have to do anything. I'll handle the publicity, set up the events, and collect the donations.”

Sandy shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? Ben said the legal fees in a case like this could be thousands and thousands of dollars. That burden shouldn't fall on you. Don't worry. Everything will be done tastefully.”

“Give me a few days to think it over,” Sandy said reluctantly.

“All right, but don't let your pride get in the way of letting other people help you.”

After Betsy left, Sandy checked her computer. There was an e-mail from Jeremy with an attachment containing the talking points he'd mentioned. Sandy printed out the information and read over it while eating. The comments were well-worded, but instead of admiring Jeremy's writing skills, Sandy cringed at the thought of having to deliver them to an anonymous crowd. Like many teachers, Sandy could talk all day in front of students, but change the audience to adults and her hands became clammy. She slid the papers to the side of the table and focused on the remaining lettuce in her bowl.

To Sandy's relief, the next few days passed by without a whiff of media interest in the lawsuit filed against her. Maria came by Sandy's classroom and told her that she and her father were going to meet with Jeremy on Thursday afternoon in Rutland.

“We go to the courthouse on Thursday. Mr. Lane said they have rooms where lawyers can talk to people.”

Sandy had seen the conference rooms when she'd paid her property taxes.

“Is Mr. Lane going to have a translator there?”

“Yes, a woman who works at the court building. I wish you could do it, but I know it would make my father mad.”