That’s all Marie would say, and Allison wondered what her warning could possibly mean. What did she need to be careful of? Obviously the court battle would be for her custody, but Allison wondered why Marsha would fight so hard for a daughter she never wanted in the first place. Was it only to get even with her father, or did Marsha actually, in her own warped way, truly love her?
“Marsha,” Stanley announced cheerily as he entered the apartment. “Your new script arrived.” He opened his briefcase and held out a bulky parcel. “I picked it up in the lobby and sneaked a peek on my way up. It sounds intriguing. Care to take a look?”
For the first time in days, Marsha visibly perked up. Allison watched Marsha from the kitchen as she pored over the thick manuscript with guarded enthusiasm. Her face was a picture of emotion as she curled up on the couch in her white satin robe, quickly flipping from one page to the next. She giggled in spots like a young girl, and Allison sighed in relief to see Marsha at last regain an interest in something. Ever since their conversation about her father, Marsha had been quiet and depressed. Allison almost felt guilty for having brought it up.
“This is wonderful!” Marsha exclaimed. “It’s sure to be a hit! I wonder if they’ve lined up my leading man yet. Hmm, who could it be?”
Stanley smiled smugly and patted Marsha’s sleek, dark head. “It’s a good thing I’m not given over to fits of jealousy, isn’t it, darling?”
“Dear Stanley, what would I do without you?” She turned to Allison and smiled. “Say, I think it’s about time for that shopping spree I promised you! Can you be ready by one? We’ll do lunch, too! It’s time New York got a good look at Marsha Madison again!”
Lunch was a lavish affair, but Allison actually enjoyed it, especially after their recent days of seclusion in the penthouse. She made a point not to bring up any controversial topics, deciding it would be best not to upset Marsha just before the upcoming trial.
Marsha chattered away, mostly about herself and how she thought others perceived her. Allison was used to this self-absorbed gossip and didn’t expect anything else these days. She listened complacently as they shopped, just happy to be out seeing people and things. As usual, Marsha insisted on buying items for Allison which she’d probably never wear, and Allison didn’t bother to argue. Instead, she played the game, pretending they were the Madison sisters out on a buying spree.
They arrived home late in the afternoon, and Marsha retired to her bed in exhaustion. Allison ate a quiet dinner with Stanley. Then he picked up a cigar and his Wall Street Journal and disappeared to his room.
She went to her room and wrote a letter to her father. She didn’t know if it would even get there in time, but it made her feel close to him. Writing had become a way of existence for her, and sometimes it was the only thing that made her feel alive. She figured she wrote an average of a letter a day, plus her journal and an occasional poem. It helped her to understand things better. She kept all her letters hidden beneath her bed in a large box tied with a yellow satin ribbon. Every night before she went to sleep she asked God to help her father win the custody trial. She didn’t know if this prayer was fair to Marsha, but it was the only way she could pray sincerely. She remembered Constance had said when you pray to God you must be honest. For now, it was the best she could do.
The day before the trial everyone was edgy, and Marsha must have smoked a pack of cigarettes. Dinner was a silent meal, and even Marie seemed jumpy. Allison assumed she’d be allowed to attend the hearing but had been afraid to ask. As Marie served dessert, Allison mustered the boldness.
“Marsha, what should I wear tomorrow?” she asked, hoping to avoid the main conflict by discussing her courtroom attire.
“What—wear? What do you mean?”
“You know, for the trial. Should I wear a suit—”
“You won’t need to go tomorrow,” Marsha said sharply.
“I want to go. After all, this concerns me. I should get to be there.” How dare Marsha try to keep me away! she fumed inwardly.
“Marsha,” Stanley said. “Would it hurt for her to come? She’s right, it does concern her.”
Marsha grunted. “Oh, all right. I don’t give a hoot! I’m so sick of this whole thing, I wish to heavens it were over!” She flung her napkin down and left the table.
Another wave of guilt rushed over Allison. She wished it were over, too. Sometimes she wondered if everyone would be happier if she’d never been born.
She went to her bedroom and laid out everything for the following day. She knew the trial was set for the morning and wanted to be ready. She looked out the window across the glittering skyline. Dad must be in New York tonight, she thought happily. And Grace, too. They had written that Grace would be staying with her Aunt Matilda on Long Island, and James would be holed up at the YMCA. It gave her hope that she’d be with them tomorrow. She repeated her prayer with an urgent expectancy, then tossed and turned all night, haunted by fragments of senseless nightmares.
She awoke at the first light of day and carefully dressed. She put on the russet wool suit she’d selected on their last shopping spree. The stylish short jacket was trimmed in suede, and the long skirt cut full at the bottom with a lining that swished when she walked. She waited patiently in her room until she heard the others stirring and went out to find breakfast already laid on the table. She tried to eat but her stomach was knotted.
“Allison, pack some things to take to the Cape. We’ll be going there right after the trial,” Marsha announced curtly.
Allison quickly put some clothes into a bag. She wondered if she’d still have to go to Grandmother Madison’s after her father won her custody at the trial. Well, at least she’d be ready to go home with him and have the rest of her stuff sent later. Marie smiled encouragingly at Allison and waved good-bye.
Marsha and Stanley rode in silence, and Allison watched out the window as people bustled along in and out of subways, scurrying like drones to work, oblivious to anyone’s plight but their own.
They walked slowly up the steps to the courthouse and met Marsha’s lawyer, Harrison Monroe. His black gabardine suit and smooth gray hair gave him a commanding image. He shook Allison’s hand in a formal manner and escorted them to a windowless room inside the courthouse. There they sat in uncomfortable silence for almost an hour.
“Is this where the trial takes place?” Allison asked, looking around the small room.
“No, we just wait here until it’s time for the hearing to begin,” Mr. Monroe answered, thumbing through a small stack of paper work. He glanced at his pocket watch and snapped his briefcase closed. “Which is just about now. Everyone ready?”
They entered the courtroom and a pushy reporter asked Marsha questions, but she ignored him. The lawyer herded them down the aisle and Allison spotted her father and Grace straining to catch a glimpse of her across the crowded room. Instinctively she started for them, but Stanley grasped her firmly by the elbow and guided her to a chair. James winked and smiled, and she knew everything would be okay.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Emerson,” the bailiff announced from the front of the room. The court came to order when the elderly judge approached the bench. He had a nice grandfatherly appearance. Most of the legal terminology and discussion sounded like mumbo jumbo to Allison, but when Marsha’s attorney called James to the stand, she sat upright and listened closely.
“Now, Mr. O’Brian, you’ve come to request custody of Allison Mercury O’Brian. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
“I have some questions regarding your fitness to assume this responsibility. First of all, what is your present occupation?”
“Well, actually, I’m an artist by trade, but I’ve only recently begun selling my work.”
“And what did you do before that? Isn’t it true you were a lighthouse keeper, living on a meager salary, barely sufficient to support yourself let alone a daughter?”
James frowned in perplexity. “Yes,
but I—”
“Just answer the question, please.”
“Yes.”
“And before that you were employed in the U.S. Armed Forces?”
“That’s correct.”
“Not a very impressive résumé. . . . And before the army you were employed by National Insurance of New York?” The lawyer had an insinuating tone in his voice.
James smiled. “That’s also correct.”
“And what was the reason for your leaving National?”
“I was accused of embezzlement, but—”
“Embezzlement?” He said the word with dramatic emphasis. “Were charges filed against you?”
“Yes, but I went into the service and to my knowledge they were dropped.”
“To your knowledge? Are you certain they were dropped?”
“No, but I have proof of my innocence.”
Mr. Monroe’s face momentarily registered surprise, then he changed his line of questioning altogether. “Are you a single man, Mr. O’Brian?”
“Yes, but—”
“Just answer the questions, please. Do you think a single man is the best sort of parent for an adolescent girl?”
“Well, no, not really, but I plan to—”
“Please, Mr. O’Brian—just answer the question.”
Allison felt like screaming. Why didn’t they let him talk? How dare they treat him in such a way! She glared angrily at Marsha and Stanley while they both watched in fascination as Mr. Monroe continued to grill and twist, making James O’Brian look like the most unfit parent ever to walk the face of the earth. James’ face grew red, and she wondered if he wanted to explode as much as she did.
Finally, Mr. Monroe smiled and folded his arms. “No more questions, thank you. I now call Marsha Madison to the stand.” He asked Marsha about her income stability and Allison’s schooling, attempting to make Marsha sound like a loving and responsible parent. And if Allison could’ve erased the last fourteen years of neglect, she’d have almost believed him, too.
“Miss Madison, how long has it been since the divorce?”
“About seven years.”
“I’m sorry to bring up such an emotional subject,” Monroe apologized as Marsha reached for a handkerchief. “May I ask what brought about your divorce?”
“There were a lot of problems, but when James was accused of embezzlement—it was just the last straw—”
“That’s a lie!” James rose to his feet but was pulled back by his lawyer.
“Order!” yelled the judge, pounding his gavel loudly. “Mr. O’Brian, I will not tolerate these outbursts.”
“Miss Madison,” said Mr. Monroe kindly. “Has your ex-husband ever offered to pay child support for Allison?”
“No, he has not.” Marsha looked directly at James, then quickly turned away.
“So you have virtually supported your daughter for most of her life—provided her food, shelter, clothing, and education, I might add, at one of the finest private schools on the East Coast. And then her father pops in out of the blue and wants to take her away. That must be very upsetting and distressful to you.”
“Objection,” James’ lawyer cried. “Miss Madison’s personal feelings have no bearing on this case.”
“Sustained.”
“Thank you, Miss Madison, that’s all I have,” Mr. Monroe said, taking her hand and helping her from the stand. Mr. Monroe made a brief speech about Marsha’s love and devotion for Allison and finally sat down. Allison glared at him in disgust.
James was called to the stand again, but this time it was from his own lawyer, Aaron Weirs. Allison smiled at him and his jaw relaxed a little.
“Mr. O’Brian,” Mr. Weirs began in a soft tone. “Please tell us why your wife divorced you.” Marsha squirmed slightly next to Allison.
James looked straight at Marsha and said, “Our marriage had been rocky from the start, but I always figured in time we’d work it out. But I believe the real reason Marsha filed was because she was having an affair with her director—”
“Objection!” Mr. Monroe yelled. “That is only Mr. O’Brian’s speculation, not a fact.”
“Sustained. Stick to the facts, Mr. O’Brian.”
“Were Miss Madison’s accusations regarding the embezzlement charges from National Insurance of New York true?” Mr. Weirs asked.
“No, the charges were completely without proof. I have given you a letter that has been substantiated to verify my innocence.”
Marsha looked at her lawyer in surprise as Mr. Weirs presented the documents to the judge as evidence.
“And why have you spent the last few years as a lighthouse keeper?”
“It’s hard to explain,” James began. “After the war, I felt my life was over, and I was diagnosed with what they call shell shock. The embezzlement charges had ruined my reputation, and Marsha had made sure I would never get to see my daughter. Life was so hopeless, some days I hardly had the strength to go on. But I spent time painting and thinking as I worked at the lighthouse, hoping one day my name would be cleared and I could resume life—maybe even see Allison.”
“Do you have any idea who framed you in these charges?”
“Yes, we know almost for certain it was Marsha—”
“Objection!” Mr. Monroe yelled again. “This is purely speculation and not allowable in this court!”
“Sustained. Once again I must insist—please stick to the facts!”
Mr. Weirs nodded to the judge and went on. “Mr. O’Brian, how did Allison come to be in Oregon?”
“My father, before he passed away, had written Marsha many times begging her to allow Allison a visit. Allison had no idea she even had a grandfather in Oregon. When she found out, she came out to meet him. Unfortunately, she came without her mother’s permission. Of course her mother, as usual, was far away and out of touch—”
“Objection!”
“Your honor, how can I answer the questions if Mr. Monroe keeps interrupting?” James asked in an irritated voice.
The judge scowled. “Just answer the questions.”
“Mr. O’Brian, what are your plans if you attain Allison’s custody?”
“Right now I am financially stable, and I have a home for her. I plan to continue my art, and there’s a wedding in my future.” He smiled across the room to Grace, and Allison felt Marsha bristle. “Allison would attend the local high school and enjoy a normal life for a change—”
“Objection!”
“I’m finished with my questions. You may step down, Mr. O’Brian.” Mr. Weirs smiled at James. “I’d like to call Miss Madison to the stand.”
After some preliminary questions, Mr. Weirs jumped right in. “Miss Madison, how many times have you been married?”
“Three,” she mumbled.
“Three?” he repeated loudly. “And do you think your present marriage will last?”
“Objection!”
“Your honor,” Mr. Weirs argued. “I’m trying to establish a pattern for Allison’s future.” The judge nodded grimly. “Miss Madison?”
“Well, of course,” Marsha snapped.
“But with your history, wouldn’t you think it’s possible this marriage might—”
“Objection. He’s badgering the witness.”
“Okay, let me ask another question,” Mr. Weirs said. “Miss Madison, do you think you provide a stable home environment for your daughter?”
“Well, it’s been difficult. I just bought a home in California, and Allison has been staying there with me. I think she likes it—”
“So you plan to keep her there while you’re off making movies?”
“Allison is a big girl. She doesn’t need her mommy to hold her hand!”
“Have you ever held her hand?”
Marsha stared blankly and Mr. Weirs continued.
“Isn’t it true she doesn’t even call you Mother, you hardly ever spend time with her, and she spends the school year in boarding school and summers at camps?” Mr. Monroe’s objecti
ons became lost in between Mr. Weirs’ loud questions and the uproar of the audience.
The judge pounded his gavel and yelled, “Order! I demand order!” He looked sternly at Mr. Weirs. “I’m warning you one last time!”
“Thank you, your honor, I’m finished with Miss Madison.”
“I adjourn this court to a short recess,” the judge proclaimed. “We’ll meet back here at twelve-thirty for my decision.”
Marsha and Stanley followed Mr. Monroe, almost dragging Allison from the courtroom.
“I want to see my dad!” she exclaimed.
“Not now!” Marsha hissed.
Allison sulked through a quick lunch, barely touching her sandwich. No one seemed to notice. Marsha didn’t order any food, instead she chain-smoked and nervously sipped a martini. Only Stanley had an appetite, and he disappeared behind his Wall Street Journal as soon as he finished his prime rib. Allison stared at Marsha, but Marsha wouldn’t look her way. She kept glancing at her watch and snapping her gold cigarette case open and shut, over and over. Just when Allison thought she might scream, Marsha announced it was time to return to the courthouse.
On the way back, Allison consoled herself with the fact that her father’s testimony was convincing. It sounded more like he really cared for Allison. And at least he’d cleared his name, even if they wouldn’t allow him to use it as evidence against Marsha. She silently prayed and crossed her fingers for luck.
It seemed even more news people and photographers were there as they pressed their way into the courtroom. Allison knew it was because of Marsha and wished they’d all leave them alone. Lights flashed in her face, and a reporter grabbed her by the sleeve. “Allison O’Brian? Is it true that Marsha Madison is really your mother? Who do you want to live with, your mom or your dad—”
“No comment!” Stanley yelled right in the reporter’s face.
They pushed their way to their seats and quickly sat down. The room was buzzing with excitement, and Allison’s heart pounded in her ears. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm and brave. When she opened them again, the judge sat sternly at the front of the court while he shuffled his papers. Feeling like a criminal about to be sentenced, she fought a wave of nausea and waited for his decision.
Allison O'Brian on Her Own Page 27
