Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope (36 page)

“She said Mr. Paulding was a crook, and the lawsuit was his way of trying to steal the church property.”

“Did she explain what she meant by stealing the property?”

“No, but it bothered me a lot. I’ve only been in Savannah for three months, but Mr. Paulding has been a great boss. When I had to be off work for a couple of days for a family emergency in Texas, he let me go home even though I hadn’t accrued enough vacation or sick days.”

“Did Sister Dabney find out you worked for Mr. Paulding?”

“We didn’t talk, but she’s the kind of preacher who knows stuff even if no one tells her. I know that sounds weird, but it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

“It’s none of my business, but I think this should be worked out without a big lawsuit.”

“Most lawsuits are settled before they get to court,” I said. “Pray that’s what will happen here.”

“Are you a Christian lawyer?”

“I’m a law student working here for the summer. One of the senior partners is handling the case.”

“But are you a Christian?”

The man’s bold persistence impressed me.

“Yes, I am.”

“There’s a boss over your boss and Mr. Paulding. That’s who we need to talk to.”

“I will.”

“Me, too.”

As soon as I hung up the phone, I knew that in addition to praying there was someone else I had to talk to.

25

THE PHONE RANG SO MANY TIMES WITHOUT THE ANSWERING machine picking up that I thought I’d dialed a wrong number. I was about to end the call when a slightly out-of-breath male voice answered.

“Hello,” he said.

“Mr. Callahan?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Tami Taylor, I mean Tammy Lynn Taylor.”

“Hey, I just walked in the door. I was checking on a new calf. And don’t worry. Your name change is safe with me.”

“My parents know. It came out when Zach Mays and I were in Powell Station a few weeks ago.”

“How is the ponytail preacher doing?”

“He’s not a preacher.”

“Not yet. When will I get to see him again?”

“We don’t have another trip planned.”

“You’d better get on it,” Mr. Callahan answered emphatically. “It takes a unique man for a woman like you. He might fit the bill. Not that I’m trying to play matchmaker.”

I smiled. I’d never considered Oscar Callahan the matchmaker type.

“Yes, sir, but he’s upset with me because I got him involved in the slander case I mentioned when we came to see you. The defendant is Rachel Dabney, only now she goes by Ramona.”

“You’re kidding. After all these years.”

“It’s her.”

“Is her husband, Russell, a defendant?”

“No, he left town with another woman a few years ago. Zach and I went to her church this past Sunday to see if she was going to slander our client. While we were there, she talked about you.”

“Me?”

The lawyer listened as I told him everything Sister Dabney said about him.

“And she didn’t know before the meeting that you knew me?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you mention it later?”

“No, we left before the service ended.”

“Well, it sounds like she hasn’t lost a step. I’m a little stiff from the car wreck but thankful to be alive without any serious injury. My heart is ticking along fine. I still take blood pressure medicine and a cholesterol pill, but it’s more to keep my doctor’s blood pres-sure normal than my own. And as old as I am, I feel like the prodigal son.”

“How is Mrs. Callahan?”

“Trying to figure out what happened to her cynical husband. She’s warming up to the new man and starting to like me better than ever.”

“You weren’t cynical.”

“Behind my mask. Seriously, tell Zach how much I appreciate his obedience to pray that day in the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir. I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

“And thanks for calling to check on me.”

I realized he was about to hang up.

“Wait, there’s one more thing. I need your advice about the law-suit. Isn’t it wrong to sue a preacher like Sister Dabney?”

Mr. Callahan was silent for a moment.

“Is there evidence she slandered your client?”

“Yes, unless what she said was true.”

“Do you know the answer to that?”

“No, sir, but you can see how accurate she is about people.”

“That doesn’t make her perfect. There’s accountability that comes with a gifting. This lawsuit could be God’s way of humbling her.”

Mr. Callahan’s answer surprised me. “Is that what you believe?”

“I have no idea, but it’s clear you’re not considering all sides of the issue. So long as you represent your client with integrity and don’t misrepresent the evidence, it may be necessary for the legal process to sort out the truth.”

Mr. Callahan could see the different facets of a lawsuit from across a courtroom or hundreds of miles away.

“You trust the legal process that much?”

“It’s not perfect, but I don’t have illusions about my personal omniscience either.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled.

“It can be a tough call,” Mr. Callahan said. “There were times when I withdrew from a case or sent a client on his way, but I’m not sure it was always the right thing to do. And remember, you’re not working for yourself. At Joe Carpenter’s firm those types of decisions will be made for you until your name moves to the partner side of the letterhead. That’s one reason I hung out my own shingle in Powell Station. I always wanted to have the last word on the work I took in.”

“Have you ever regretted it?”

“Sure. No matter the path you take in life, there will always be challenges.”

I paused for a moment. “Do you think I could do that? I mean, come back to Powell Station. The two lawyers who took over your practice probably don’t need me, but I know a lot of people and—”

“Tammy Lynn, you could come home and make a go of it. But you have a big advantage over me at your age.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re trusting God to direct your steps. My decision was my own.”

AFTER I HUNG UP, Vince buzzed me and we made arrangements to see Mrs. Fairmont that evening. I worked alone for a couple of hours until Mr. Carpenter’s secretary paged me on the office intercom.

“Julie and Tami, please come to Mr. Carpenter’s office.”

I pressed the button.

“Julie is out of the office at a hearing in federal court in Brunswick.”

“Then he’ll see you alone.”

“If it’s about the Paulding case, Zach Mays should probably be included.”

“He only asked for the two of you. Do you want me to put you through to him?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m on my way.”

Grabbing a legal pad, I walked down the familiar hallway. The interior of the law firm had been so intimidating and mysterious the first few days at the office. Although infinitely fancier than the inside of the chicken plant in Powell Station, there were similarities. One place handled birds; the other processed people with problems. I entered the waiting area for Mr. Carpenter’s office.

“Go on in,” his secretary said. “He’s talking to Judge Cannon about the Paulding case.”

I knocked lightly on his door and entered.

“That’s right, Judge. I’ve served her with a notice to take her deposition next week. I suspected she wouldn’t hire a lawyer. Her conversation with you confirms it.”

Mr. Carpenter listened for a few moments.

“Yes, I know you don’t like pro se cases. None of us do, but we had to take action. I confirmed service of the notice of deposition about half an hour ago, but I have no idea if she’ll show up.”

He was silent again.

“No, given what’s transpired between the parties, I consider the possibility of settlement remote. However, I would agree to a bench trial, which would be quicker and less messy than steering the case through a jury proceeding. Do you want me to mention it to the defendant?”

Mr. Carpenter listened.

“Yes, sir, it would be better if you took the initiative. I appreciate the call and will keep you informed.”

Mr. Carpenter hung up the phone.

“Your friend Judge Cannon has been assigned to the case.”

“He only saw me long enough to reject our first plea agreement in the Moses Jones case.”

“He’ll see more of you before the summer is over. I was talking to him about
Paulding v. Dabney
.”

“What did she say to the judge?”

“Not what she should have. She warned him that he would be judged by God if he let the case go forward. Judge Cannon has been threatened by the best; she won’t faze him. He mentioned the possibility of a bench trial. What do you think about agreeing to that from our side?”

“Usually, that’s not the best for the plaintiff.”

Mr. Carpenter raised his index finger. “Except when the defendant is going out of her way to antagonize the judge. Then it might be the fastest way to a judgment that will enable us to levy against that property.”

At that moment, Oscar Callahan’s confidence in the judicial process sounded hollow.

“Your job is to help me prep for the deposition. You know more about how this woman thinks than I do. Julie can prepare questions that cover the legal requirements for libel and slander, but I need you to get me behind her personal defenses. Everyone has buttons that when pushed reveal weakness. When weak, a party is more likely to give up valuable information. It sounds esoteric, but it’s practical. And since it’s a deposition, we can take risks I wouldn’t hazard at trial.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what Mr. Carpenter wanted me to do, but I suspected that was all the explanation I would get.

“When do you want the questions?”

“By the end of the day on Monday. The deposition starts Wednesday morning at nine. Put it on your calendar.”

“You want me to be there?”

“Of course.”

“And Julie?”

“No, I promised Jason I would try to keep costs down. It will be you and me.” Mr. Carpenter gave me a toothy smile. “The Reverend Dabney won’t intimidate either of us.”

I left Mr. Carpenter’s office and returned to the library. Julie was there.

“Sorry I missed the party,” she said. “I ran into Mr. Carpenter’s secretary in the reception area and found out you didn’t wait for me.”

“You could have crashed the party,” I answered glumly.

“What was it about?”

I told her about the assignment.

“That will be easy for me,” she said lightly. “I’ve already done the research and can plug in the information we’ve obtained from the witnesses. You have the fun part.”

“Why is it fun?”

“For the same reasons I’ve had fun goading you all summer. Only this time, it’s for the cause of justice.”

IT WAS A WARM EVENING, but Mrs. Fairmont insisted on sitting outside with Flip. Vince pushed her in a wheelchair to avoid the possibility of a fall on the uneven ground. In one corner of the property there was a bench shaded by a live oak tree that had escaped the blades of the bulldozers. Mrs. Fairmont sat in the middle of the bench with Vince and me on either side. She held one end of Flip’s retractable leash in her hand as he ran around sampling new smells before scampering back for reassurance that they were still attached to each other.

“Dr. Dysart came by to see me today,” Mrs. Fairmont said.

“You mean Dr. Dixon, the cardiologist?” I asked.

“That’s right. Anyway, he’s pleased with my progress and placed me on a regular diet. I called Gracie as soon as he left. She brought me the best meal I’ve had since I went to the hospital.”

“What did she fix?”

“Baked salmon, broccoli, and a small tossed salad.”

“Any idea when you may be able to go home?” Vince asked.

Mrs. Fairmont didn’t immediately answer. Vince looked past her toward me and repeated the question. Mrs. Fairmont wrinkled her brow. She paused before answering.

“I need to know if you’re working for Christine or me.”

Vince stood so Mrs. Fairmont could see his face. “I’m Vince Colbert, a summer law clerk at Sam Braddock’s law firm. Mr. Braddock has been your lawyer for years.”

Mrs. Fairmont looked peeved. “Then why didn’t he come him-self? Is he trying to avoid being around old people? He’s not that far behind me, you know. I’ve always paid his bills as soon as they came in the mail.”

“Mrs. Fairmont,” I said softly, “Vince and I brought Flip for a visit. This isn’t about business.”

Flip trotted up to me. I lowered my right hand and let him lick my fingers. Mrs. Fairmont watched.

“He knows you,” Mrs. Fairmont said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re the young woman who’s staying at my house.”

“Yes, I’m Tami Taylor. Do you want to go inside? It’s so hot out here.”

“Maybe we should,” Mrs. Fairmont replied with a sigh. “I’m get-ting a headache and don’t feel too well.”

I helped her into the wheelchair. Vince pushed her across the mix of dirt and new grass. Flip ran ahead, glancing back to see if we were still following. Inside, I took a deep breath of the cool air and noticed that Mrs. Fairmont’s head was tilted to the side. I touched the wheel-chair. Vince stopped.

“Mrs. Fairmont,” I said, coming alongside her. “Are you all right?”

The elderly woman’s eyes were closed. They slowly opened but didn’t communicate any sign of recognition.

“Let’s take her to the nurse’s station,” I said, pointing down the long hall.

I took Flip’s leash. The nurse on duty came out from behind the nurse’s station.

“We went outside for a few minutes, and she’s not feeling well,” I said quickly to the middle-aged black woman on duty.

The nurse took Mrs. Fairmont’s hand. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Tired,” Mrs. Fairmont mumbled.

“Let’s get you into bed,” the woman answered, then turned to me.

“I’ll take her from here. The dog needs to go outside.”

“Her doctor prescribed—,” I began.

“I’ll do it,” Vince said, cutting me off. “You stay with her.”

Vince took the leash from me. I could hear Flip’s claws scratching against the tile floor as Vince dragged him away. The nurse and I went to Mrs. Fairmont’s room. Together we helped her from the wheelchair into bed.

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“Now that she’s in bed, I’ll check her vitals. Are you the grand-daughter who lives with her?”