by Arlene James
As if sensing her ill wishes, he turned his gaze directly at her. Laurel gasped. His nose was swollen and blue, a butterfly strip across a hump in the bridge that had decidedly not been there before. In addition, the flesh around one eye had turned a sickly yellow veined with angry-looking scratches. Edward clasped her hand in his and pointedly looked at Bryce, who craned his neck, straightened his tie and turned back to the front, while Kennison, who was standing, said something to the judge.
Laurel widened her eyes at Edward, who winked and allowed a smug smile to briefly lift the corners of his mouth. She’d known that there had been a scuffle but she’d assumed that it hadn’t amounted to much. Seeing Bryce, though, she knew that wasn’t so, and the knowledge that assault charges had been written off on both sides suddenly held new significance. She leaned a little closer to Edward, relieved that he hadn’t wound up in jail because of her. Barry looked up from her lap, pushing his hat down over his eyes and happily babbled, “Mamamamama.” Edward looked down, smiled, and adjusted the baby’s hat. Barry babbled something unintelligible. “Dddduummphd.”
Laurel bounced him on her knee and whispered that he should be quiet, ignoring what seemed like a bunch of preliminaries to her. Suddenly, a sharp crack made her jump. She looked up to find the judge glaring down at her. He had sparse white hair and bushy black eyebrows that looked as though they belonged to someone else, and he was frowning.
“I don’t like repeating myself, young woman, so pay attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your Honor,” Edward whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Er, yes, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded and leaned forward over the bench. “I take it this is the minor child whose custody is in question?”
Laurel nodded, and the judge barked, “Speak up. The clerk can’t hear nods.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Apparently satisfied, the judge nodded and signaled the bailiff, who put them all on their feet again and swore in the witnesses. Laurel was surprised when Edward raised his hand and repeated the vow along with everyone else but the two attorneys of record, the judge, the clerk and the bailiff himself. Oh, and Barry.
Then everyone but Kate sat down and Kate made a long statement about how Laurel had cared for Barry since even before he came into the world by providing for his birth mother during her pregnancy. She said they’d prove that Avon hadn’t trusted her own brother to do so and why, and that Avon had named Laurel as the child’s sole custodian in a document that she called a handwritten will.
Afterward, Abelard Kennison got up and said that Avon Miller was an even more pathetically unstable individual than Laurel herself and custody should be given to the child’s natural uncle.
Then Kate got up again and asked to have a deposition entered as evidence of Bryce Miller’s “venal nature” and his “sole reason for seeking custody of his nephew.” Kennison objected, saying that he had not had a chance to look over the evidence. Kate then offered to dispose of the deposition and have the witness, one Daniel L. Hardacre, testify in person. Kennison paled and vociferously objected. To Laurel’s surprise, and apparently to Kennison’s, as well, the judge told Kennison to sit down and shut up. Banging his gavel, he said, “Objection denied. I’ve read said deposition and it’s clear to me that Bryce Miller engaged in dishonest, unlawful, malicious activity for personal gain. Furthermore, I’ve examined the handwritten will wherein the child’s mother specified guardianship to petitioner Laurel Miller, and I consider it valid.”
Kennison shot to his feet once more. “But Your Honor, I have proof of Mrs. Miller’s emotional instability.”
The judge narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”
Kennison climbed up onto his oratorical pedestal and held forth in grand style, citing the instances in Laurel’s youth when she had been hospitalized, and the opinion of her own grandmother. After he’d said enough to hang her—or so Laurel thought—Kate neatly looped the noose around his own neck, pointing out that the grandmother’s opinion was clearly rebutted in Mr. Hardacre’s deposition and announcing that she had statements from several doctors who had treated Laurel and the unanimous conclusion was that Laurel was remarkably well-anchored considering her grandmother’s obvious mental and emotional abuse. Even Laurel gaped at that one. Edward, however, settled back in his chair and sighed with immense satisfaction, a smile on his face.
Kennison sputtered objections and pontificated about nothing much until the judge pointed his gavel and told him to wrap it up or forget it. Red in the face and hanging on to his temper apparently by sheer dint of will, Kennison snarled that as a single woman barely able to support herself by waitressing, Laurel had no means by which to support a child. The judge waggled his eyebrows at Laurel who opened her mouth to defend herself, only to feel Edward’s large hand clamp down warningly on her forearm as Kate again got to her feet.
“With all due respect, Your Honor,” she said mildly, “it is our considered opinion that my client will shortly have control of the inheritance of which her exhusband and his counsel have tried so hard to bilk her.”
“Objection!” roared Kennison, shooting to his feet. “Your Honor, these allegations are substantiated only by the deposition of a known alcoholic, who has himself admitted incompetence!”
“We have other evidence, Your Honor,” Kate rebuffed smoothly, “which we’d be glad to present.”
The judge smiled and decided this would be an excellent idea. Kennison declared the proceedings an outrage, not that anyone paid the least attention to him. When Kate submitted the sworn deposition of one Pamela Scott, currently employed as a housemaid, Bryce audibly groaned and slid down in his chair. Receiving a whispered tongue lashing from Kennison, he hung his head and sulked, defeat screaming from every line of his posture and expression. Laurel could only look on in confused wonder. It was obvious to everyone that Judge Halstead had already read the deposition now entered into evidence, for he merely glanced over it before leaning forward and fixing Abelard Kennison with a baleful, gleeful glare.
“Getting a bit sloppy in our old age, are we, Counselor?”
Kennison was already spouting off about women scorned and single-digit IQs that would never bear up under cross-examination. The judge banged his gavel and said, “Tell it to the D.A.’s office, Counselor, for that’s exactly where these documents are headed next. As to the matter at hand—”
“That woman couldn’t raise tomatoes properly on her own!" Kennison screamed, pointing at Laurel.
Edward surged to his feet, face suffused with rage, hands balling into fists. Laurel grabbed his arm and hung on for dear life, crying, “Edward, no!” He was yelling at Kennison, though, and seemed not to hear her. For several moments, it was utter chaos with Edward and Kennison shouting at one another and Judge Halstead banging his gavel continually while Kate and Laurel ineffectually urged restraint. Finally Halstead stood up and threw his gavel at the floor in front of the bench, at which point the bailiff jumped up, yanked out a whistle and tried to burst the eardrums of everyone present.
Silence gradually ensued. Judge Halstead folded his arms and sat down. “Good.” He pointed at his gavel, and the bailiff retrieved it, handing it over. The judge snatched it out of his hand, ordering, “Shoot the next person who speaks out of turn!”
Nodding, the bailiff clumsily drew his pistol. Kate paled. “Uh, Your Honor, sir…”
Halstead made a face. “Oh, relax. It isn’t loaded.” Then he drew a gun from beneath his robes and plunked it onto the bench. Grinning, he added, “But this one is.” He glared at the entire room and sat back in his chair, his gaze coming to rest on Kennison. His smile was absolutely chilling. Oddly, however, it was Laurel he addressed.
“As to the matter of single motherhood,” he said, “I understand, Ms. Miller, that best wishes are actually in order, hmm?”
Laurel blinked uncertainly. “I—I beg your p-pardon?”
Halstead switched his glare to Kate a
nd then Edward. “Well, attorney White, is it wedding bells or not?”
Edward’s eyebrows shot up. He looked accusingly at Kate, who shrugged as if to say it couldn’t be helped, then he turned to Laurel. For a long moment, his pale blue eyes plumbed hers, then his arm slid around her shoulders and he looked up to the bench. “It definitely is, Your Honor. That is, if Ms. Miller’s proposal is still valid.”
The judge abruptly targeted Laurel again. “Well?”
Laurel couldn’t seem to get her mouth closed in order to reply. They were talking about marriage, weren’t they? She had asked him to marry her—ages ago. And in all that time she hadn’t changed her mind. She still felt that Edward White was the best possible candidate for a husband that a girl could have. Marriage to him still seemed like the answer to all her problems and, even more so, the embodiment of all her dreams. What she couldn’t seem to grasp was that he might actually want to marry her. That, it turned out, was the only thing that seemed to matter. She turned a questioning gaze on the man of her dreams and whispered, “Edward, do you want to marry me?”
For answer, he stared a moment into her hopeful eyes, then lifted a hand to tilt her chin and tuck her head back into the crook of his arm, at which point he kissed her until her toes curled and laughter erupted from the gallery. He kissed her still, until a tiny, probing finger dug its way between their mouths and finally separated them. Edward looked down into Barry’s upturned face. His sailor hat had tumbled off into his lap and now slid unheeded to the floor. “Killjoy,” Edward muttered, his arm tight about Laurel’s shoulder.
Barry reached up with that intruding little finger and touched it to the tip of Edward’s nose, saying as clearly as sunshine, “Dada.”
Edward put his head back and laughed before snatching up Barry and lifting him high overhead. “That’s right, son!” Behind them, a triumphantly delighted Kendra applauded. Laurel laughed, understanding now what all that whispering was about.
The judge cleared his throat, and all eyes turned his way. Looking down at the court clerk he said, “Did you get all that?” Fingers flying, eyes wide, she nodded. Kennison sneered. Miller laid his head on the table and rolled it morosely side to side. Edward sat Barry in his lap and smiled at Laurel.
The judge banged his gavel and said, “I rule in favor of the plaintiff. To wit, I grant custody of said minor, Barry Lawrence Miller, to Laurel Heffington Miller—pending her marriage to Edward Patrick White, attorney.”
Kate gasped. “Your Honor!”
Confused, Laurel looked to Edward. “What?”
“The judge just granted you conditional custody.”
“Conditional?”
“Mm-hmm, the condition being that you marry me.”
“Oh.” She grinned her broadest.
“Now,” the judge said, producing an official-looking paper with a flourish. “Having been assured by counsel—who’s entirely too confident of her abilities as well as her personal charms—that this union was in the offing, I’ve taken the liberty of having the county clerk’s office send over a license.” He rustled the paper at Edward as if it were a red cape and Edward the bull.
Edward slid a look at Laurel. “It’s not a big fancy wedding,” he said lightly, “but it’s unique. How about it?”
Laurel felt happiness like a physical entity, embracing her, holding her. Oddly, it felt like an old and trusted friend. She smiled at Edward and leaned close until she could rub noses with him. “I love you,” she said, “but I reserve the right to make all the marriage proposals in this family.”
He laughed and said, “Propose away.”
“Then I propose we let this nice judge marry us—right now.”
The place erupted in pandemonium, with laughter and applause carrying the wave. Kennison provided the only sour note, however. Slamming his materials together and snarling about officious conduct and backstabbing weasels, he stormed out of the courtroom, Bryce following like a whipped puppy. The judge hooted at them, literally, and ordered loudly for the bailiff to call someone in the D.A.’s office to come down for the incriminating documents immediately. He winked at Kate and said, “He won’t get far. They’ll have his assets frozen by the close of business.”
Juggling Barry between them, they filled out the license and stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the judge, who looked them over and asked, “I don’t suppose you have any rings on you?”
At that, Parker spoke up. “They can use ours, Your Honor.” After a moment, during which he worked his ring off his finger and collected Kendra’s, he came forward. Dropping them into Edward’s palm, he said, “Just a loan, mind you, but maybe they’ll bring you two the same happiness they’ve brought us.”
Edward clapped him on the shoulder in appreciation, then said to Laurel, “We’ll pick out our own this afternoon. I promise.”
She nodded and accepted Parker’s ring, eying it doubtfully. It looked much too small for her Eddie, but what the heck. She wouldn’t have cared if they’d used rubber bands. Kate took Barry into her arms and stood to one side, talking softly to him about what was going on, not that he understood any of it, but he kept pointing at Laurel and Edward and babbling, “Mama,” and “Dada,” sometimes not in the proper order. it was sweet music as far as Laurel was concerned.
“Now then,” the judge said, “let’s choose your witnesses and get on with it.”
Edward nodded at Parker, who stepped immediately to his side, beaming and back-slapping. Laurel glanced around. Kate? She seemed to have a large hand in all this. Kendra? Clearly, she wished them only the best. Then again the court clerk was sitting there with big tears in her eyes. Before she could make up her mind, a bright familiar voice from the back of the room said, “Let me.”
Laurel gasped and spun around. Avon stood in the back near the door, having slipped in unnoticed some time before. She hadn’t changed a bit, except that her curly bright red hair was inches longer and quite flattering, frothing around her shoulders. Otherwise, she might not have even changed her clothes since Laurel had last seen her. Her jeans were worn and artfully tattered, her flowered blouse small and clinging.
“I’d love to stand witness for Barry’s mother,” she said. “God knows she’s the best friend either of us ever had.”
Laurel reached out with both arms and Avon hurried into them. “I knew even when I was carrying him that he really belonged to you,” she whispered. Then louder she cracked, “And now you’ve got him a lawyer for a dad, huh? Boy, I don’t know about that, but if you think he’s the one…”
Everyone laughed.
Laurel said, “He’s the one. He’s the only one. He’s my white knight, and he always will be.”
The judge said later that it was the first time in his court that the groom had kissed the bride without compunction or any sense for the propriety of the thing—which meant that he couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off her, either before, during or after. Especially after. Ever after.
* * * * *
eISBN 978-14592-7378-8
THE KNIGHT, THE WAITRESS AND THE TODDLER
Copyright © 1997 by Deborah A. Rather
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are regis
tered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Books by Ariene James
About the Author
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Copyright
