Dark Valentine

by Jennifer Fulton

  She did this just before she strolled back toward the witness box to continue her pedantic review of Rhianna’s testimony. “Would you state once again what you believed about Mr. Brigham’s invitations?”

  “I thought he was asking me to date him.” Rhianna reminded herself once more that the jury saw her as a straight woman.

  “And you declined because you did not wish to date him. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the reasons you stated were that you did not find Mr. Brigham attractive and you were not looking for a boyfriend. Did you have a boyfriend at that time?”

  Somehow the woman who had lain with her head on Rhianna’s belly, and her hand fisted within, managed to make that question sound breezy. Rhianna wanted to shake her. “No.”

  “Was there another man you were interested in at any time during your acquaintanceship with Mr. Brigham?”

  What was this? Had Jules decided to sneakily tease out the information about her sexuality, after all? Rhianna counted to three and said mildly, “No.”

  “So you were not willing to go on a social outing with Mr. Brigham even to discover if the two of you might become friends?”

  “I could see that he wasn’t interested in being my friend.”

  “What made you believe that?”

  “I think most women can tell when someone is interested.”

  “So, you consider yourself a good judge of men because most women are? It’s what—genetic?”

  Norman Clay stood. “Objection.”

  “Rephrase your question, Ms. Valiant,” Judge Tuttle instructed. “And Ms. Lamb. The court is not interested in your views on most people, only those pertaining to yourself.”

  Jules resumed. “Please describe how you know when someone is showing a romantic interest in you.”

  Rhianna almost laughed. Unable to help herself, she said pointedly, “Flowers. The people who send me flowers usually want something, and in my experience it’s not friendship.”

  Impassively, Jules said, “Mr. Brigham frequently sent you bouquets, so you felt this was a sign of romantic interest?”

  “Yes, which is why I phoned him and asked him to stop.”

  “He continued to send them, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did that seem odd to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it your conclusion that he did not take your rejection seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do about that?”

  “I started throwing the flowers in the trash or giving them away.”

  “Did you tell him you were doing this?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought if I ignored him, he would give up and leave me alone.”

  Jules apparently wanted the jury to notice this point. As if a couple of them might be hard of hearing, she strolled along the box and repeated crisply, “Ms. Lamb avoided confronting Mr. Brigham. She thought if she ignored him, he would leave her alone.” Stopping dead, her hands on her hips, she faced Rhianna and asked pleasantly, “In your experience, have you found such a fainthearted, indirect approach to be successful in discouraging men?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  Jules smiled. “Let me see if I understand this correctly. Having found that no did not work with Mr. Brigham, you thought saying nothing at all might be more effective?”

  “Yes.”

  “Over what period did you ignore Mr. Brigham?”

  “Nine months.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No.”

  “So for nine months he continued to behave like he was still courting you. He sent flowers, he made calls inviting you on dates, he hung around your workplace hoping for the chance to see you. Do you think this was the behavior of a man who knew his advances weren’t welcome?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It never occurred to you that he just wasn’t getting it?”

  “Objection,” Clay said. “Your Honor, Ms. Lamb cannot be expected to have read the defendant’s mind.”

  “Ms. Valiant, is this line of questioning leading somewhere?” the judge asked.

  “It is, Your Honor,” Jules said. “This witness testified on direct examination that she believed the defendant knew his advances were not welcome. Yet she now appears to be contradicting herself. The jury needs to understand exactly what Ms. Lamb believed.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Ms. Lamb,” Jules said earnestly. “Based on Werner Brigham’s conduct, did you believe he understood that he was wasting his time and that you had rejected him?”

  Rhianna repeated the question in her mind, trying to figure out why Jules was spending so much time on this one minor point. “I’m not sure what he thought.”

  “Let me rephrase. How do you normally deter men who are romantically interested in you?”

  “Saying no usually works.” Rhianna tried to keep the acid from her tone. Norman Clay said juries don’t respond well to witnesses who showed anger, even if provoked. “If a man doesn’t listen, I say it more loudly. Which was what I had to do with Mr. Brigham. In fact, I had to scream.”

  This statement created a small ripple among the jurors, and Jules narrowed her eyes very slightly. “So, you claim Mr. Brigham knew his overtures were not welcome. Yet you also claim you weren’t sure if he understood he had been rejected. Which is it?”

  “Objection. Your Honor, Ms. Valiant is confusing the witness.”

  “Are you confused,” the judge asked.

  Rhianna glanced at Norman Clay. The prosecutor’s face gave no clue as to his thoughts. Jules had backed her into a corner with this circular argument and was making her sound like a ditz.

  “No, Your Honor.” Ignoring the frown of consternation on Mr. Clay’s face, she said, “I think Ms. Valiant wants me to explain why her client was chasing a woman who didn’t want him. I’ve asked myself the same question many times.” She looked past Jules to Brigham. “All I can say is that it’s hard to form an opinion about behavior that makes no sense.”

  She glanced toward the jury in time to catch a couple of unconscious nods. Something flickered in Jules’s eyes as they slid over her. Rhianna’s nipples reacted and she checked to make sure her pastel pink jacket wasn’t flapping open. The color made her wince. Norman Clay had seen to it that she could have passed for a coed from the most conservative Bible college below the Mason-Dixon Line. Beneath the jacket she wore a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a pleated skirt in tones of pink and dove gray. Cuban-heel Mary Janes completed her yesteryear preppiness, the black-patent kind Catholic girls wore to mass, and a large black velvet bow secured her fake ponytail high on her head.

  Rhianna had expected jury members to see straight through this contrived look, but by the time Norman Clay had questioned her for a couple of hours, she realized that she was not a real person to them. She was the well-behaved daughter or sister everyone wished they had back home instead of the one who gave attitude and dressed like Britney Spears. She could see why her sexuality was off-limits. If she was asked directly, she would have to tell the truth, of course. The defense had agreed to stay away from the topic, but Rhianna wondered if Jules was planning to reveal her anyway, by inference.

  Filled with trepidation, she surveyed the courtroom. Jules was not the only one checking her out. Werner Brigham had been feasting his eyes on her ever since she took the stand, and he kept shifting in his seat like he needed to use the restroom. He had combed his limp, sandy hair back for the trial and oiled it firmly in place. The style drew attention to his flaccid face and weak chin. Rhianna tried not to look at him. The feverish intensity of his stare made her flesh crawl.

  “Ms. Lamb, with the benefit of hindsight do you think you could have done more to make your rejection emphatic?”

  “I got a restraining order,” Rhianna pointed out.

  “After six months, yes. Can you see why that delay might impl
y some ambivalence on your part?”

  Anger flared deep inside Rhianna. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I said or did. Mr. Brigham was not interested in my wishes.”

  Jules smiled. “In that case, I’m surprised you accepted an invitation for a dinner date with him on the Saturday of the alleged assault. Do you see why that decision might seem illogical?”

  Rhianna was silent. Something had changed in the way Jules was questioning her. She was still being pleasant, but the cross-examination suddenly seemed more serious.

  “Please answer the question. Doesn’t it seem illogical that you would go on a dinner date with Mr. Brigham?”

  “Yes. But—”

  Before Rhianna could explain herself, Jules asked, “Did Mr. Brigham seem happy about the date?”

  “It wasn’t a date, it was a meeting.”

  Jules conceded this point with an apologetic nod before repeating, “So, Mr. Brigham seemed happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you wear to this encounter?”

  “A dress and pumps.”

  “Please describe these.”

  “The dress was a dark blue sheath style, a cocktail dress. And the shoes were Prada sling backs with high heels.”

  “That’s quite a contrast from the outfit you’re wearing now.” Jules gave the jury time to reach the same conclusion. “Why did you wear provocative clothing to a meeting with a man you were trying to discourage?” Without taking a breath, she said, “Strike that— You felt this meeting would send a clear, unambiguous signal to Mr. Brigham that you were not interested. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you think if you looked pretty he would be more receptive?”

  Rhianna hesitated. “Yes.”

  “The court has heard you characterize your romantic experience with men as limited. Do I understand you correctly?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you have not faced a situation like this before. Let me qualify that. Would you say you have never been so ardently pursued by a man?”

  “Yes. Never.”

  “When women find themselves genuinely upset about a man’s pursuit, it’s been my experience that they will say virtually anything to make him leave them alone. Was that how you felt before going to dinner with Mr. Brigham?”

  “Yes.”

  “During the nine months in which Mr. Brigham courted you, did you ever consider telling him that you were interested in another man?”

  “I thought about it.”

  “But you decided not to?”

  Rhianna was aware that Jules had somehow framed her questions so that all she could do was agree with everything. Irritated, she said, “Yes.”

  “Was that because you were not interested in any other man?”

  “Yes, and because I didn’t want to cause trouble for another person by misrepresenting a friendship.”

  “By ‘friendship,’ do you mean a platonic friendship of the type you have described having with men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you say that most of your understanding of men derives from platonic friendships?”

  “Yes, and from growing up with a father and two brothers.”

  “Did your father approve of your having dinner with Mr. Brigham?”

  “I didn’t discuss it with him.”

  “Because you thought he would prevent you from going?”

  “Objection,” Clay barked. “If Ms. Valiant is done testifying perhaps we can return to the facts.”

  “Withdrawn.” Absently, Jules stroked her hair back, a movement that tightened her jacket across her breasts and called attention to her striking face.

  Watching her, Rhianna crashed into a wall of feeling. Her memories were so fresh, their physicality was tangible. Her body still bore marks. She still felt raw in her most secret places, and she was achingly aware of all that had passed between them. There was no retreat to be found within. Her mind was an occupied country, with Jules the invader. All she could see was the two of them hot and naked, clinging to each other. She could not stop reliving those moments, craving more. Her inability to evict Jules from her mind was torture. What did it take, she wondered. How much worse did the betrayal need to get before she could just hate the woman as she deserved?

  Whatever happened, however this played out, Rhianna almost didn’t care. She had already lost. One day soon she would leave Denver, with all of this behind her, and she would never see Jules again. She knew it made no sense to feel shattered by that realization, but she did.

  Jules pitched her question another way. “Why did you withhold the details of your dinner engagement from your father?”

  “I knew he would worry.”

  “Did you expect he would try to talk you out of it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you didn’t tell him. Obviously it was important to you to have this dinner. Why?”

  “I thought if we could just have an adult conversation, I could reason with him.”

  Jules frowned. “Having a meal with you placed Mr. Brigham in violation of the restraining order against him. Was that your intention?”

  “I didn’t think about it.”

  “Witnesses will confirm that you drank expensive champagne and were seen smiling and laughing with Mr. Brigham. Complete strangers will testify before this court that you appeared to be flirting. Yet you have stated that you were extremely shocked when Mr. Brigham proposed marriage to you during the course of the meal. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Rhianna wanted to ask, How can you do this? She felt frazzled. The effort of controlling every reaction and second-guessing before she opened her mouth was wearing on her. She just wanted the cross-examination to be over so that she could go home and forget any of this had ever happened.

  “Help me understand,” Jules said. “You chose to wear flattering clothes. You were drinking champagne and flirting with this man…a man who had been courting you for nine months. Yet you were amazed when he offered you a fifty-thousand-dollar diamond ring. Ms. Lamb, you are either very naïve or you are lying. Which is it?”

  “Objection!”

  Jules made a helpless gesture with her hands and looked up at the judge. Her air was one of patient forbearance, as if she knew hers was a lone voice of common sense, and she did not expect anyone to acknowledge it. But she still dared to hope His Honor would come down on the side of reason.

  “Overruled,” Judge Tuttle said tonelessly. “The witness may answer.”

  Rhianna said. “I am neither.”

  “I suppose there is a third alternative,” Jules said coldly. “You didn’t give Mr. Brigham a clear answer to his proposal, did you? In previous testimony you stated this was because you were afraid.”

  “Yes.”

  “So…Not lying. Not naïve. But afraid.”

  “Yes.”

  “And in this state of fear, you agreed that Mr. Brigham could escort you home?”

  “Yes, but there was a driver, and I thought—”

  “Ms. Lamb. You entered the car of your own free will. You did not state an unequivocal no to the offer of marriage. You have testified that in the car Mr. Brigham spoke of the home he wanted to share with you as his wife. He talked about having children. Yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Mr. Brigham treat you courteously during dinner and in the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were friendly toward him, also?”

  “I was polite.”

  Jules sighed. “Ms. Lamb, do you have an aversion to sexual intimacy with men?”

  Rhianna’s heart threatened to choke her. “I don’t have enough experience to answer that.”

  “Of course, because you only have platonic friendships with men. You are an attractive twenty-eight-year-old woman. You must have had plenty of offers, through high school, college, in your working life. But you had never had sex with a man until Mr. Brigham. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you sav
ing yourself for marriage?”

  Rhianna clamped her hands firmly together in her lap to stop them from shaking. “I had not met a man I wanted to be intimate with.”

  “I see. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Jules said sympathetically. “Fear of sexual intimacy is a clinical condition for which sufferers seek help all the time.”

  “I’m not—” Rhianna cut herself off before she could fall into the trap Jules had set. If she claimed to have no problem, Jules would end up drawing from her an admission of her sexuality. Carefully, she said, “I didn’t think it was mandatory for a woman to sleep around to prove herself normal.”

  She glanced toward the friendliest face in the jury and saw a chilling mix of puzzlement, sympathy, and dawning comprehension. Trying not to panic, she stole quick looks around the other faces. Dismay, cynicism, suspicion. She was losing their support.

  “Ms. Lamb, do you want to fall in love and settle down one day?”

  Rhianna thought, Bitch. “Yes.”

  “Yes, I thought so.” Jules offered the jury a mild, apologetic smile, as if she knew she had tried their patience with her dreary cross-examination. “Let’s cut to the chase. The reason Mr. Brigham could not figure out where he stood with you, Ms. Lamb, and the reason he could be forgiven for thinking you were just playing hard to get, is that you gave him mixed messages. It probably wasn’t your intention.”

  Jules continued in a resolute but compassionate tone. “I put it to you that you could not reject Mr. Brigham emphatically because in your heart you wanted what he was offering. A home, a family, social position. You went to dinner with him, and you willingly accompanied him to his home because you were hoping you could overcome your fears. You knew you could cement an engagement by having sex with the man who wanted to marry you. But when you tried to go through with it, things went wrong, didn’t they?”