Rapture

by Sonia Icilyn

  “Maxwell’s baby?” Bertha gasped.

  “Yes, Mom,” Avril confirmed. “I’m sure Elonwy would like to tell you all about it.”

  Lennie immediately took charge. “I’ll go and get us all a brandy.”

  The following two hours was not easy for anyone. Elonwy began her sorry little story which simply heightened Avril’s fury as she watched her sister-in-law expertly camouflage the truth. Bertha vented her spleen. Antonio lamented. And Lennie found himself playing referee. Dale simply sat back in a chair and quietly contemplated the feuding family’s noisy attempt to resolve this almighty quarrel.

  It ended the moment Avril rose from the chair she’d leapt from at several intervals throughout their endless battle. “Don’t ask me to forgive her, because I can’t,” she aimed at her brother. “Never!”

  “I’m going to stand by her,” he returned loudly. “You can either be an aunt to this baby, or stay out of my life.”

  “She’s having a christening at Greencorn Manor,” Avril finally screamed out. “At the very church where I was supposed to be married in Grantchester.”

  Antonio turned toward his wife, his eyes pained. “Is that true?”

  “No.” Elonwy shook her head, spilling more crocodile tears. “I mean, we’d talked about it. They were trying to talk me into it, but a few days ago, I discovered…” She dipped her head and looked sadly at her baby, who’d slept with a few slight stirrings throughout the commotion. “Maxwell’s in some kind of financial bind with one of his projects and his family asked to put the christening on hold.”

  “And you thought you’d run back to your faithful husband,” Avril spat out. “Love, you don’t even know what that is.” She wanted to tell Antonio exactly what his wife thought of him, but knew the disclosure would rock his senses while he was already on news overload.

  “We should try and eat something,” Bertha said on a shaky breath. There seemed nothing more appropriate to say than attempt to use food as a conciliatory tonic. “I know I’m hungry. Anyone?”

  “I was looking forward to your dinner,” Dale spoke in a calm tone, “but I’ve walked into something here and—”

  “You’re part of it, too,” Elonwy suddenly accused. “You’re Dale Lambert, right? Your law partner, Philippa Fearne, promised me she could win my case against Maxwell for parental support. But that’s not going to happen, is it, because he’s going to get arrested for fraud sooner or later and—”

  “Arrested!” Tony interrupted, working nervous fingers through his hair.

  “I can only do what’s best for me and my baby,” Elonwy whimpered. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you all through.”

  “And I’m sorry Philippa couldn’t do more for you,” Dale answered in acceptance of her sorrow.

  Avril stared at him murderously. “She’s not sorry.”

  Antonio, who’d remained standing the entire time, slowly sank into a chair. “I just want my family back home, with me,” he murmured, holding his head between his legs. “My wife and my baby.”

  Amazingly, the young infant started crying. “You do what makes you happy, son,” Lennie’s voice infiltrated on a bone of wisdom. “Let’s try to be a family. Keep the outsiders out and the love in.”

  Bertha nodded tearfully. “As long as my children are happy, I am, too.”

  Avril shrugged, hard-hearted. “If that’s what you all want,” she conceded, feeling out of place. “Then…I’m fine with it.” She stared at Dale, holding back the glazing tears. “This is my family, warts and all,” she sighed, apologetic for her outburst and for spilling the whole sorry business. She could not imagine after being in that house today, watching her spit venom, that Dale would ever want to be a part of it. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 14

  Dale approached the courtroom that morning in fighting mode, not at all diminished by his own seemingly shifting feelings about what he’d witnessed at Lennie and Bertha’s home the night before.

  Angry and recalcitrant, Avril’s behavior had taken him by surprise, though, in truth, it was what he’d expected. On the ride back to his Swiss Cottage home, after feasting at a silent table, he was forced to think more about what lay ahead and whether his love could hold it all together. Or more precisely, keep Avril intact.

  From the moment they’d met, she was a woman lost and like the proverbial black knight in shining armor, he’d come to her rescue. He’d seen attributes that tickled his fancy, a potential lover, mother and friend. Dare he admit it, a wife. But if he were to probe deeper, there was something vulnerable beneath that caramel-brown complexion, fragile-boned exterior and slim beautiful frame that he wanted to find.

  The pressure was coming from factions in her life and he had no way of knowing how to deal with them. He just did not understand how her mind worked and felt he needed to.

  Last night, unable to sleep, he’d been staring at the ceiling, looking for answers to no avail. Then Avril had nudged him gently and asked what was wrong. “Wait,” she said guiltily. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

  “No,” he sighed. He rolled over to face her and saw that she, too, was wide awake. “Avril,” he began, confused as to why she’d jumped with fire and damnation on Tony and Elonwy’s back. “Why couldn’t you let it go?”

  Her eyes widened. “Elonwy doesn’t love him,” she said flatly. “Have you any idea what that is to love someone and never have it returned?”

  Dale looked at her astonished. “No,” he admitted. “Do you?”

  “I know what it is to want a mother’s love and be denied it,” she answered without a hint of self-pity.

  There. She’d finally said it.

  Another fear in her life had emerged.

  The revelation shocked Dale to the core. “Of course she loves you,” he kicked back knowingly.

  “She’s never shown it,” Avril shrugged. “Not in any way I truly understand. It’s always been about Tony. You do understand what I’m saying?”

  Dale shook his head. “No. Well, yes,” he amended. “We’ve talked about this before, but I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.”

  Avril sat up. “I’ve accepted it for many years,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s quite symptomatic, in fact, of how my mother’s life turned out.” She looked at him seriously. “To find your love unrequited is shattering. When I was younger, it nearly destroyed me. I turned to modeling to escape and met some very unstable people. There was always a yearning to find something. No one deserves to be in that position. It is a far better thing to let that person go than to force them to love you, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t know what to think. “Maybe,” Dale answered.

  “The point is,” Avril told him. “I don’t want to make the same mistake as my mother or brother. I’d rather let you go if I was not receiving equal love than have any hope of keeping you.”

  Now, in the light of day, as Dale walked through the doors to the courtroom and faced the notorious “Bulldog,” he thought about what Avril had said. And he found himself agreeing, at least in principle, that Marcus Davy was a man whose values reflected that of the woman he loved. How could he have been so blind?

  Seating himself at the defense table, he suddenly became reinforced with energy. There was an emotive element to his case, as well as a practical one. There was no evidence to suggest that the alleged gunman ever existed. No stray bullets or a gun were found. And his client had admitted in the dock that in spite of loving the woman, he no longer wanted to pursue Cassandra Moore. He’d let her go because she loved somebody else.

  When Dale rose to probe his own client to put the record straight, his zealousness piqued. He was going to cut every question he could think of to disprove what had transpired in the cross-examination last week. “Tell us about the night Cassandra Moore revealed to you that she had feelings for Morris Yates,” he asked.

  Marcus shrugged uncomfortably. “She came over to the house.”

  “Whose house?” Dale asked.
>
  “Mine,” he answered.

  “The police reports suggest that you went over to her house and caught her with Morris Yates. You had an altercation and threatened you were going to arrange to have him gunned down. The prosecution would even have us believe you reached for your gun. Is any of that true?”

  “No,” Marcus strongly affirmed. “Cassandra came to my house.”

  “Were you alone?” Dale questioned.

  “No,” Marcus said. “My kid brother was watching a movie.”

  “Your kid brother?” Dale repeated on a long pause for the news to sink in with the jury. He reached for a set of papers from his table. “That’s not in the depositions or the police reports.” He held them up for the benefit of the courtroom.

  “Objection,” William Katz shouted out.

  “That’s because nobody asked me,” Marcus bleated loudly above his voice. “But my kid brother was there.”

  “Objection,” William Katz shouted out a second time. “What kind of stunt is the defense counselor pulling here? We have no knowledge that there was a witness.”

  “Both counselors approach the bench,” Judge Baines ordered.

  “Where is this coming from?” she addressed Dale with concern.

  “Your Honor, I didn’t know his kid brother was there either,” he told the judge, omitting to detail how he came by the information. “Cassandra Moore didn’t inform the prosecution either, which goes to suggest she probably didn’t notice him there, or is fabricating a different story for the benefit of this courtroom.”

  Judge Baines considered. “I’m going to allow it.”

  “I strongly object,” William Katz whispered tautly.

  “Overruled,” Judge Baines announced, turning toward the prosecuting counselor. “I’m going to give you a day to prep so that you get your day in court to cross-examine the witness and strongly advise that you talk to your client. Mr. Lambert, I want Mr. Davy’s brother in the witness box at tomorrow’s hearing. This trial goes ahead.”

  Both counselors withdrew.

  “Then what happened?” Dale continued, happy that he could now play his ace.

  “I invited her to my room upstairs, but she didn’t want to come up. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”

  “So you asked her?”

  “Yeah,” Marcus nodded. “She told me all about it, their sordid little affair, like it was something to pull a stroke on a brother like that.”

  “Did you get mad?” Dale antagonized him, walking closer to his client.

  “I was more hurt than mad,” Marcus replied calmly.

  “And you wanted to get even?” Dale taunted him further.

  “Get even?” Marcus repeated, almost on a chuckle. “Hell, there’s more skirts out there on the streets.”

  “Skirts?” Judge Baines interrupted.

  “Women, ladies, girls,” Marcus amended. “I ain’t doing no time for some dope sister.”

  “Please rephrase,” the judge ordered.

  “Ma’am.” Marcus stared at the judge. “It makes no sense taking down another man for loving somebody. Girls like Cassandra Moore, looking all pretty and nice like she does can put a man in an early grave because his heart got broke. And now, her man’s dead. I don’t know how he died, ’cos the moment she told me I’m no longer her man, I let her alone. I ain’t no fool and that’s why I’m still alive.”

  “Her man, Morris Yates?” Dale clarified, quickly dispelling the picture of Avril’s brother from his mind. “Did you see him that night?”

  “No,” his client confirmed. “After Cassandra left, I watched a movie with my brother. The next thing I know, I’m arrested on a conspiracy to murder charge.”

  “Did you hire anyone to kill Morris Yates?” he asked, stepping closer to the jury, looking directly into their faces.

  “I didn’t even know the brother’s name ’til I saw his picture in the paper,” Marcus went on.

  “You hired no one to murder him?” Dale rephrased.

  “No, I did not,” Marcus stated emphatically. “But if you were to ask me,” he continued, pointing directly at his former girlfriend across the span of the courtroom where she was seated. “I’d say she stitched him up herself.”

  “Objection,” the “Bulldog” pounced. “Cause for motive.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Baines prompted, raising her brows at Mr. Davy.

  “One final question,” Dale returned, standing in the middle of the courtroom. “You said your brother was there at the house. Did he see Cassandra Moore at anytime throughout your discussion?”

  “He saw her all right,” Marcus answered contemptuously. “He saw her pathetic tears, heard her lies and lame excuses. Her apology wasn’t even real.”

  “He saw her in your house,” Dale repeated to let the impact hit the courtroom, “while she told you the truth.”

  “My brother heard and saw everything,” Marcus confirmed.

  “Objection,” Mr. Katz said dispiritedly.

  “Overruled,” Judge Baines said sharply. “As I said, you’ll have your time in court tomorrow to question the witness. Mr. Lambert?” she prompted.

  Dale threw his opponent a satisfied smile, inwardly knowing he’d nailed this case. “I have nothing further, Your Honor.” As he retook his seat at the defense table, Dale saw clarity in how Avril’s mind worked.

  When it came to love, like Marcus Davy, she wanted either all or nothing.

  As the weeks flew by, Dale’s case strengthened. So did his love for Avril. Even with his surprise witness, William Katz sought to complicate the case by finding one of his own. But that did not rattle Dale. With his growing confidence on winning the case, he cut to pieces the young girl’s testimony, reminding her that perjury was against the law and that she should not risk imprisonment to protect her friend, Cassandra Moore.

  Then a gun had been recovered, stalling the case for it to be examined for fingerprints. Again, Dale prevailed when Marcus Davy’s prints were not found. Hard at work on his case, he left Avril time to put her own questions into motion with the tenants she had yet to talk to.

  Many things began to unfold there, too. Most disturbing was her discovery of the new rent increases. Having received no notification herself, possibly because she was using the apartment temporarily and was not listed on any rent records, Avril was more than concerned.

  “We simply cannot afford another rent increase,” Mrs. Allen complained while in the elevator with Avril on a cold misty afternoon in September. “This is the third one this year.”

  “The third!” Avril repeated alarmed. She had no idea. A telephone conversation earlier in the week with Reuben Meyer made no reference to any surprise rent reviews. I want a meeting with you next week in my office and I want to know everything, he’d reported when she outlined some of the residents’ latest grumbles. Reuben explained that he knew nothing about the letters that were sent to the housing association. “There must be some mistake,” she told Mrs. Allen.

  “There’s no mistake,” Mrs. Allen returned.

  “Do you know who’s in charge of these rent increases?” she asked, knowing that Reuben was probably in the dark about that, too.

  “I got a letter about it,” the elderly woman informed. “Come to my apartment. I will show you.”

  Avril followed, unsure what to expect. But when the evidence was planted in the palm of her hand, she recognized the name and signature immediately. Avril’s body shook.

  “Mrs. Allen, can I take this?”

  “If you can do something with it, go ahead,” she encouraged. “And,” Mrs. Allen added on a smile. “There should be more young people like you. If heads need to roll, use your title. Call a public meeting with everyone who lives in this block. It’s time we kicked somebody’s butt so that they stop squeezing the little people.”

  “I’ll try and help,” Avril promised, though in truth, the information she had in her hand was explosive and needed to be dealt with sensitively.

  It was
nearly three months ago when she’d come close to making the mistake of her life by marrying the man whose signature she now recognized. What on earth was Maxwell Armstrong doing forcing rent increases? She suspected that it probably had to do with his financial woes and that it was unlikely the other investors knew of his activities.

  The matter played heavily on her mind as she made her way back toward the elevator. Dale was meeting her later for dinner and she was looking forward to cooking up something special and listening to the latest news on his case. Over the last few weeks, they’d alternated their sleeping habits. Sometimes she was at her place, other times at his.

  And ever since his case had intensified, she’d noticed a change in him, too. The case should have been over shortly after Dale had questioned his client in the dock, but further witnesses had come forward, lengthening the process. Avril knew he was giving his closing argument that day, so she wanted their meal to be an appetizing closure to the drama that had unfolded in the courtroom.

  Now it seemed she was in one of her own.

  Alighting the elevator, Avril walked along the corridor and then stopped. Someone was waiting patiently outside her apartment door. She recognized the cascading brown hair across the woman’s flirting shoulders and the long black woolen coat with the faux fur collar, and felt a pang of annoyance creep across her body like a bad rash.

  “Kesse!” she said sternly.

  The woman turned. “I know I’m probably the last person on earth you want to see,” Kesse stuttered, slightly startled.

  “You’re second in line,” Avril answered, her mind landing on Elonwy.

  Kesse’s well marked brows rose. “Can we talk?”

  “How did you know where to find me?” Avril demanded.

  “Your mother,” Kesse responded with pleading eyes.

  Avril noted her forlorn expression, red lipstick and Kesse’s obvious beseeching appeal and was won over. “Come in,” she invited, pushing her key into the lock. After all, she convinced herself as they both stepped into the hallway, they had to talk about what had happened.