by Janet Rebhan
Caroline smiled and raised her glass in a toast. She made that subtle movement again with her jaw as she resisted any number of amusing comebacks before deciding just to accept the compliment. Once, when he’d made the same toast, she’d asked him if he was excluding photographs and movies, because well, that would make it a little easier for her to believe him. He had laughed and said, no, that she was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person or in photographs or movies. She’d then jokingly commented that he probably needed to get out more before advising him to have another glass of wine because it must have some magical, mind-altering properties. And on it continued, year after year, with Jake laying on the compliments and Caroline politely and sometimes teasingly accepting them, but never fully believing he was 100 percent sincere. Wouldn’t that make her naive if she did believe him? Or worse yet, narcissistic? Then again, the fact that she was even giving it further consideration was probably an indication she was taking herself far too seriously. Still, every now and again, just because it made her feel all warm and fuzzy, she allowed the little girl inside to believe he really meant it. And that thought, coupled with a few glasses of wine, made for a romantic evening to be remembered one day when she was old and gray and reminiscing.
“You’re such a sweet talker. Lucky for me, I don’t fall for that kind of bullshit.”
“Whoa. The lady has a mouth on her,” Jake said, almost choking on his wine. Then smiling, he said, “I think I like it.”
“Okay, I can’t do this anymore.” Caroline laughed. “What are we ordering anyway?
“Ah, come on, honey, play along.”
Caroline softened her posture and locked eyes with her husband as she took another sip of wine. Then she sat back in her chair and placed her hands in her lap. “Go ahead,” she said. “Give me the bad news first, then the good news, if there even is any.”
“Killjoy,” Jake said. “It’s our anniversary.”
“And we’re in the middle of a custody battle for a baby girl who should have been ours, but she’s not. Instead, she’s in a foster home and the court is actually considering giving her to an abusive, murderous father. What kind of system does that?” Caroline looked around the room, then lowered her voice a notch. “Sorry, honey, but I’m just not feeling all that romantic. We probably shouldn’t have come here this year.”
Jake reached across the table and took Caroline’s hand in his. “I’m not giving up, Caroline, and neither should you. I know just how much this baby girl means to you, and I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power to get custody of her for us. I want her, too, you know. We are in this together.”
Caroline took a deep breath and heaved a slow sigh, her posture relaxing even more. She reached for her wine, took a sip, and looked at Jake with tears forming in her eyes. Reaching out with her hand, she touched Jake’s cheek and then his lips as if to silence him.
“I love you so much,”—Caroline paused and kissed Jake lightly on the lips—“but you don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t promise me anything.”
Jake took Caroline lightly by the wrist and removed her hand from his mouth.
“I will prove him guilty of murder if it’s the last thing I do. He will not get custody.”
“Yeah, well, first they have to find him and arrest him,” Caroline said, leaning back in her chair.
“They will,” Jake said. “If he wants his baby girl, he’s not going anywhere. And if he’s still here, it’s only a matter of time before he is found and taken into custody.”
Caroline shifted her gaze to the window and watched as the sun began its slow descent into the ocean, turning the sky that followed closely behind the color of burnt sienna. She turned her head back toward her husband. “So what’s the news?” she asked. “You said on the phone you had some.”
“Oh.” Jake leaned in. “I finally got in touch with the social worker today. She agreed to try to arrange to have Rachael’s foster parents bring her to DCFS headquarters for chaperoned meetings between us.”
“That is good news!” Caroline brightened. “But why do you say try? Isn’t she the one in charge here? If she agrees, then it’s a done deal, right?”
“Well, first we each have to get clearances from the Children’s Advocacy Institute and the Department of Justice, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What kind of clearances?”
“Since we’re not related to Rachael, CAI has to perform background checks on us for child abuse; DOJ checks for criminal records. Obviously, we are both going to pass. Only problem is, they often drag their feet on these things.”
“But squeaky wheels get the grease, right?” Caroline said.
“Exactly,” Jake said. “We will continue to be proactive until we get results.”
“In the meantime, she is growing up without us.” Caroline took a sip of her wine. “And what about permanent adoption?”
Jake studied his hands, then looked at his wife. “That’s a tricky one. Normally, there would have to be no suitable family member to take her, and we would have to find a way to get ourselves to the top of the waiting list with the Placement and Recruitment Unit. There are families who have been waiting a lot longer than we have. Also, babies are in much higher demand than older kids.”
Caroline raised her hand. “Stop,” she said. “I don’t mean to be rude. I just don’t have the patience anymore. Please, just give me the bottom line.”
“The bottom line,” Jake said, “is that we are on track. I am on top of it. I am not going to quit until it’s finished. No one is going to get that baby girl but us.” He paused and took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off his wife. “I can feel it in my bones. I believe you now. We both know she was meant to be ours.” Jake reached out and took both of Caroline’s hands in his own. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper and continued. “We’ve both received incredible signs. And you know I’m a logical man, not given to imagination, but you’ve made me a believer. I want this little girl as much as you do. Heaven has to help us, because we all belong together. We were meant to be a family.”
Jake could see he wasn’t getting through to his wife the way he usually could. Something inside her had switched off. She had stayed strong and resolute for so long, and now she was losing hope. Finally, he was convinced of the right thing to do, and now she was running low on motivation. Oh the ebb and flow of relationship. When one is up, the other is down or vice versa. Usually, this kept them in balance. But now, they both needed to be up at the same time. Now was not a good time for her to let go. He knew he had to stay strong, at least until she came back around again.
Caroline leaned back in her chair and cast her eyes down at her wineglass. She cupped her right hand under its wide base just above its long and slender stem, picked it up, and swirled it around in gentle counterclockwise circles. She watched the red liquid swish around, leaving a clear film behind that coated the inside of the glass as it slowly descended like raindrops on a window pane. “Legs,” she said softly, keeping her eyes on the teardrop shapes sliding slowly down the inside of her glass.
“What, hon?” Jake replied.
“The wine—it’s got good legs,” she said again softly, still looking at her glass. “That means it has lots of alcohol.” Caroline raised the glass slowly to her lips and took another sip, staring out the window again, watching as the ocean slowly devoured the sun. She let the wine linger in her mouth before swallowing. She felt the warming sensation in the back of her throat and allowed herself to believe, if only for the evening, that everything was going to be all right.
Caroline’s friend, Jena, called early the next morning.
“Morning, princess. Get your prissy butt out of bed; I’m coming over.”
“What are you . . . ? What?” Caroline said. “What time is it?”
“It’s nine o’clock, girlfriend, and we’re playing tennis at the club today.”
“No we’re not,” Caroline replied. “I don�
��t forget appointments.”
“Of course you don’t. We didn’t have one, but another couple just vacated the ten o’clock time slot, and I got a call from the club, so I took it.”
“Good grief.” Caroline sighed and pushed up into a sitting position. “I’m a little hung over.”
“Uh-oh,” Jena said. “Did we drink too much?”
“Well, last night I did,” Caroline said. “At the rate of three glasses of red wine in one hour’s time on a mostly empty stomach.”
“Ouch,” Jena said.
“I think I’m depressed.”
“That’s it,” Jena said. “I’m coming over. Drink some Alka-Seltzer and throw yourself together. I’m not wasting this court even if we just lob the ball back and forth in the sunshine, then head to the bar for a Bloody Mary.” Jena paused. “Where’s Jake?”
“He had an early-morning tee time at the golf course with his partners—business stuff. He’ll be home by noon.”
“All right then, I’m leaving now. Don’t go back to sleep.” Jena hung up the phone.
Caroline groaned and rolled off the side of the bed. She stood for a moment, looking out the second-story bedroom window into her spacious backyard. Glancing into her next-door neighbor’s backyard, she paused to admire the colorful playhouse they had recently added in the corner next to their pool house. All she wanted to do at that moment was get a cup of coffee and mope around in her rose garden, but she could hear her best friend’s voice in her mind, repeating her admonishment: I’m coming over; throw yourself together, so she dutifully shuffled into her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. While she waited for the citrus-flavored, fizzling tablets to dissolve in her small bedside drinking glass, she looked at herself in the mirror. If she squinted, she could almost see Rachael’s face overlapping her own in the reflection. For an instant, her wide-set green eyes turned to dark-brown saucer-shaped doll eyes with long, thick black lashes, and both sets of eyes began to fill with tears. She reached out to the mirror and touched her own reflection, pausing only momentarily before swilling the salty liquid down her throat in a couple of well-intentioned gulps. “Ahhhuurrrrp,” she belched. “Princess my ass.”
On the tennis court, Jena hit the ball directly to Caroline so she wouldn’t have to run around much to keep the game going. It was not one of their competitive days; it was just fun in the sun with two longtime friends. Still, Caroline was out of breath when they finished. And as Jena had promised, they ended their time together in the club bar.
“I’m just saying that if you take a bit of the hair of the dog that bit you—”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I guess you’re right,” Caroline said, holding a hand in front of her face. “I am a little shaky.”
The server approached with a glass of Pinot Grigio for Jena.
“Sparkling soda with lemon slices on the side,” he repeated Caroline’s order before turning and serving her. “Sure you don’t want a Bloody Mary?”
“Is it that obvious?” Caroline replied.
The server laughed and winked at Jena. “No,” he said to Caroline, “Jena texted me in advance. I’ll be right back with a couple of Advil.”
Caroline made a face at her friend and smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
Jena leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “He’s such a doll.”
“He’s a baby.”
“Oh, I know,” Jena said. “And that makes him trainable. I tip big, and he treats me well.”
The server returned with the Advil.
“That was fast,” Caroline said.
“No problem. Bloody Mary’s on its way.” He winked at Jena again.
“It’s my turn to buy today too,” Jena said, smiling.
“Will you ladies be having anything to eat?” he asked.
“I’ll take the Caesar salad,” said Jena. “Hold the anchovies.”
“I’ll have the same,” Caroline said.
The server walked away. Jena stared after him before turning her attention back to her friend. “So happy anniversary, sucker,” she said, raising her glass for a toast. “I know you and Jake will be together forever. You two make me sick.”
Caroline smiled and raised her glass. “Thanks, Jena.”
“He’s got a cute butt, don’t you think?”
“Who, Jake?”
“No, the server.”
“Oh, I don’t know; I didn’t look. Should I look now? What’s his name anyway?”
“I don’t know. He only gave me his number last week.”
“So you could text him in advance before coming in?”
“Yeah. Something wrong with that?”
“No,” Caroline said. “Of course not; it’s really none of my business anyway.” She watched as the server walked past her to another table and turned back to Jena. “I see what you mean. I’m sure he’s very . . . expedient.” Caroline smiled.
Jena laughed heartily and gulped her wine. Caroline looked beyond Jena to see a tall, sturdy woman walk into the bar. Her gaze lingered a moment because she didn’t look like the typical woman who came into the club. She was older than Caroline, and dressed in pale-gray slacks, a white blouse, and a navy cardigan. She clutched a large tapestry handbag to her chest as she scoured the room before sitting at the empty table next to hers. Caroline smiled politely and nodded. The woman smiled back and proceeded to rummage through her oversize bag until she pulled out a large vinyl notebook and what looked to Caroline like a stamp and an ink pad. When the server approached her table, the woman ordered a Diet Coke, then pulled out a paperback romance and began to read quietly.
“You were saying?” Jena said.
Caroline laughed. This is what Jena always said to her when she got distracted. “Yes, well, I’ve been thinking.” Caroline leaned in toward her friend and lowered her voice. She paused for a moment. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I want an honest answer.” Caroline looked directly at Jena, whose interest had been piqued.
“I’m listening,” her friend said.
“Have you ever thought about killing someone?” There. She said it.
Jena let out an involuntary cough and raised her eyebrows. “You’re serious?”
Caroline looked around, then smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
Jena looked at her friend for a moment. “Honestly? No.” Jena caught her breath on the next inhale and paused, thinking. “I’d have to say no,” she said again. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I mean, not for sport or anything.” Caroline continued to talk low. “I’m talking about someone who is bad—a murderer even. Someone you know is going to hurt or kill again if nothing is done about it.”
“No,” Jena said decisively. “I usually leave that kind of thing to the authorities.”
“Yeah, well, what if the authorities aren’t doing anything about it? What if—”
Caroline was interrupted again as the server delivered their salads and Caroline’s drink.
“Fresh ground pepper?” he asked, smiling at Caroline as he set her plate in front of her.
“No thanks,” Caroline said, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of her Bloody Mary. She noticed the woman sitting at the table next to hers shift in her seat. Her book was still spread open in front of her, but her eyes were not moving. Caroline turned her attention back to her friend, who had already begun to eat her salad.
Jena swallowed, took a sip of her wine, then put down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “This is about that baby, isn’t it?” She raised her voice. “I can’t believe you would even allow your mind to go in that direction!”
“Calm down, Jena; you know I’m only kidding.” Caroline’s eyes darted in the direction of the neighboring table again, but the woman was looking out the window as if expecting someone.
“No you’re not. And you better stop this because it’s not healthy.”
Caroline leaned in again, lowering her voice even more, hoping Jena would take a hint to follow suit
. “Okay, so I’m not kidding, but I’m only asking if you’ve ever even just thought of it. I didn’t ask you if you would ever actually carry it out. I mean, people ask all the time whether or not you would have killed Hitler if you’d had the chance.”
“And?” Jena said.
“And what?”
“Would you have killed Hitler?”
“Of course I would have. No question about it.”
Jena sighed and shook her head. “I’m not so sure I could have,” she said. “I think you have to allow a person to change. What if you killed him right after he’d had a change of heart and aborted his plans?”
“No, no, no,” Caroline said. “I’m talking about if you knew for a fact he was going to go through with perpetrating his evil.”
“But that’s just it, Caroline. You can never know for certain beforehand. That’s why I believe judgment is for the gods, not for us humans. Hindsight may be twenty-twenty, but foresight, being only a prediction, is still pliable. Don’t get me wrong; I think Hitler was an evil bastard, but I still don’t feel it’s my place to determine whether or not he was capable of redemption before he carried out his heinous crimes.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to disagree there, because I totally would have killed him.”
“Or you just think you would have,” said Jena. “Like you said, sometimes people say they would do something in a given situation, but it’s a whole other thing to actually be faced with the particular circumstance. You don’t really know what you would do until you are actually presented with the opportunity.”
They finished their meals and continued their conversation, but neither budged even a little on their stances. Jena liked leaving judgment to the deities; Caroline wanted to take the law into her own hands.
