by Peggy Jaeger
I slipped into my coat. After I had it buttoned, I finally looked over at him. He stood next to the desk, his hands in his pockets again, his shoulders drooped. The sad, haunted glaze was back in his eyes as he watched me pull my car keys from my bag.
“I’ll make sure one of the docents knows you’re in here so you aren’t mistakenly locked in at closing time. Goodbye, Mr. Frayne.” I turned my back to him and moved to the door.
Frayne’s hand shot to the handle the same time mine did. I hadn’t even heard him move behind me.
I snatched my hand back as if it had been burned and took a full step backward. His gaze briefly met mine before he twisted the knob and pulled the door open for me.
The gallant gesture after his verbal tirade was confusing, almost as much as why I was drawn to the hurt once again shining in his eyes.
“Thank you.” I moved past him.
I managed to get to my car and start the ignition before my nerves finally broke free.
Chapter 6
Sunday morning I escorted Nanny to weekly mass at our family church, Heaven on Earth, and then to a late breakfast at the inn with Maureen, Colleen, and her fiancé, Slade. There was no sign of Frayne, and I didn’t ask my sister if she knew where he was.
After dropping Nanny back at the nursing home, I spent the rest of the day preparing legal briefs, writing up a statement to deliver to the judge Monday morning for Seldrine, and snuggling with George. No texts from Frayne blew up my phone, and I was happy I didn’t have to deal with him. After his outburst, I wasn’t sure I could stand being regarded again with such scorn purely because I’d chosen law as a career. I’ll admit I was disappointed he’d been unable to look past my job and see the woman and not merely the lawyer.
For the first time in my adult life, I’d actually considered what being with a man—other than my husband—would be like. There was something intriguing about McLachlan Frayne. Sure, he was handsome in a sexy, scruffy, professorial way, all shoulders and trim waistline. Even though his hair hadn’t met a pair of scissors in a season or two, what should have turned me off was, in fact, wildly appealing. When we’d been in the subbasement antechamber, his voice teasing and erotic as he described the scenario he’d pen, my body had responded in a way I hadn’t recognized from myself.
I thought it had been desire brimming in his eyes when he’d gazed down at me. If it was there, it was surely gone now.
Oh, well.
At least I knew I could feel something for a man other than Danny. All this had me remembering the business card in my coat pocket. I pulled it from its nesting place and ran my finger over Olivia’s embossed name.
A matchmaker. Such an old-fashioned way to meet a potential…something. While I wasn’t searching for a spouse, it would be nice, as Nanny said, to have someone who wanted to spend time with me.
Before I morphed into lawyer Cathleen and debated sixty reasons why I shouldn’t and talked myself out of it, I punched in Olivia’s number on my cell.
“This is Olivia.”
“Oh, hey. It’s Cathy Mulvaney. I figured I’d get your machine since it’s Sunday.”
Her laugh mimicked the sound of champagne flutes tapping in a toast. “You know what Father Duncan always says about no rest for the wicked, Cathy.”
That brought a smile to my face and helped shake away some of my nerves.
“Fiona gave you my card?”
“She did.”
“Don’t sound like you’re walking to the gallows, sweetie. I set people up for a living, not kill them.”
This time I laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous about this.”
“Don’t be. When I spotted Fiona at the Arms, I thought, well, why not reach out. Test the waters. See if my old high school chum is interested in meeting someone.”
Was I? I still wasn’t sure. “This is all new to me, and I’m a little, well…I knew Danny since the dawn of time.”
She laughed again. “I get it. I really do. Do you have a few minutes for me to give you my spiel?”
I told her I did and then settled down into my chair.
A half hour later, I was much more educated on the role of a modern day matchmaker and had, astoundingly, promised to attend a speed-dating event she was hosting one town over the next weekend. I wasn’t going as a participant—Heaven forbid!—but as an observer to see how meeting people had changed in the twenty-plus years I’d been out of the dating pool. In truth, I’d never swum in it. Danny was my first, last, and only boyfriend. From the moment I’d seen his smiling, front-toothless grin at eight years old, I’d known we were going to be together forever.
Monday dawned cold and windy with the promise of snow in the air. I arrived at the courthouse earlier than I needed to prepare for Seldrine’s court appearance. Lucas had already notified me Pete Bergeron wasn’t pressing charges for the hit to his eye. In all honesty, the deputy’d said, she probably hadn’t meant to hit him, she was simply too drunk to realize what she’d been doing. His resolution to let it slide would go a long way with the judge’s decision about whether to keep her locked up for thirty days or release her on her own recognizance. The custody of her children in the interim was another matter I needed to address.
At a few minutes before nine, Seldrine’s parents took their seats behind me. The room was beginning to fill, the judge’s Monday docket full, I learned, after conferring with his clerk.
Lucas and Pete walked into the courtroom, Seldrine and two others with them.
At nine a.m. sharp, Judge Asa DuPont arrived, robed and ready.
The judicial system in our little town of Heaven was a bit…different…from other places. Since we were a small, tight-knit community, our civil and legal disputes were oftentimes between people who knew one another. Judge Dupont—or as he was known to me outside the courtroom, Uncle Asa, since he was my godfather—had been a fixture in the community for decades. He and my dad were the very best of friends, and many times had sat on opposite sides of a courtroom dispute, Dad for the defense, Asa for the district attorney’s office.
Yeah, it was a little legally incestuous, but Asa was a staunch constitutionalist and the rule of law meant everything to him. I’d appeared before him many times in my career, and while I might have won more cases than I’d lost under his watchful eye, I knew I’d done it based on my abilities and the law’s merits and not because he used to toss me up in the air and make me giggle when I was baby.
The courtroom rose as a unit while Asa walked to his chair. One quick gavel thwack, and we were in session.
Three cases were heard before it was time for Seldrine’s. Piers Grouty, a boy I’d gone all through grade school with and who now worked for the county prosecutor’s office, sat across from me as the court clerk read the charges against my client.
“Mr. Grouty?”
“Your Honor, Mrs. Compton is the sole responsible parent for her four children. This act of intoxication with them at home speaks to an issue of the welfare of those children. The defendant has a history of alcohol abuse and was even placed in a treatment facility several years ago. I’ve been instructed to file charges of child endangerment against Mrs. Compton and to request she be kept incarcerated in the county jail for a minimum of thirty days, while we conduct our inquiry.”
A loud gasp blew from Seldrine’s mother.
I rose from my seat. “Your Honor, if I may?”
“Mrs. Mulvaney.”
I’d known potential incarceration and child endangerment charges would be on the plate. I also knew there was a way around them.
“While Mrs. Compton does have a history of alcohol abuse, she has diligently attended weekly AA meetings for the past three years, and until Saturday, when an inciting incident sparked her to drink, she’s been sober. In fact, she received two visits from her AA sponsor and counselor this past weekend. She has been a model parent and has even begun working toward her GED, while simultaneously working fulltime at Angelica Arms. All in addition to caring for
her four young children. To file child-endangerment charges against her is not only ludicrous, it’s also cruel for the children and disruptive to the strong family unit they’ve established since my client’s husband was sent to prison.”
Asa stared down at me from his chair, his wooly eyebrows kissing in the center of his forehead. “What was the inciting incident?”
I reached over to the stack of notes I had on the table. “My client received this letter from her ex-husband, sent from the prison where he’s currently incarcerated. May I?”
Asa wagged his fingers at me to approach and sent Grouty a wave, too.
I handed Asa the letter. “Cam Compton sent this to her after he received the papers informing him of Seldrine’s petition for the dissolution of his parental rights. I’ve been working closely with my client for the past six months to legally separate him from those children so he’ll have no claim on them when he’s released. He’s used the children in the past to control my client and threatened them if she didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. As you can see”—I pointed to the letter—“he says point blank no legal document will ever keep him from his kids, and he promises to take them away from their mother. Seldrine fell apart when she read it and started drinking. Believe me, she knows she messed up by doing so.”
Asa read the letter twice, then handed it to Grouty. “Still want to press charges, son?”
“Your Honor, while I agree this letter is a more than an implicit threat, it didn’t make the defendant get drunk while she had children under her care.”
“Noted, counselor,” Asa said. “Step back, the both of you.”
Asa’s gaze fell on my client. “Young lady, stand up.”
Seldrine’s hands visibly trembled even though they were clasped together.
“Explain to me, in your own words, why you’re standing before me today.”
In a voice shaking as much as her hands, Seldrine explained about opening the letter from her ex-husband and feeling not only terrified by his intentions, but helpless against preventing them. “Taking a drink was the stupidest, most selfish thing I could ever do, Judge Dupont. I know it. At the time, well”—her emaciated shoulders lifted—“I didn’t think of what else to do. I wanted to…make it all go away. I realize now the smart thing, the correct thing, would have been to call Mrs. Mulvaney right away and let her deal with Cam.”
Asa nodded. “I’m hopeful in the future you’ll remember that before reaching for a bottle.”
He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. After a few moments, he sat forward again.
“Okay. Mr. Grouty, I’ve heard what you want. It’s Mrs. Mulvaney’s turn. And you can sit down, young lady,” he told Seldrine. “Let your lawyer do the standing and talking. It’s what you’re paying her for.”
I squeezed Seldrine’s shoulder and happened to glance toward the back of the courtroom before speaking. My breath caught when I spotted Frayne in the back row, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze squarely focused on me. His facial expression was unreadable, but his body language was screaming.
“Mrs. Mulvaney? I’m waiting.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I apologize.” I cleared my throat. “Based on the current circumstances, Mrs. Compton realizes she’s made a colossal mistake, especially in front of her children. After being sober for a number of years, she in no way thought she would ever be put in a situation such as this again. Having said that, you can’t unring a bell.”
Asa tried to hide his grin behind his hand.
“In lieu of being incarcerated, my client is willing to attend daily AA sessions for however long the court determines. She will be attending them even if the court doesn’t order them because she realizes she needs the constant positive reinforcement those sessions give her. We believe a period of no less than ninety days is warranted. Afterward, the court can reexamine my client’s progress. Mrs. Compton would like to remain at home, keep working, and attend school without any disruption to her future plans to better herself and her family situation. The children are all with my client’s parents, which is a much better arrangement than putting them into temporary foster care.”
“The parents are willing to assume responsibility for an indefinite time period?” Asa asked.
I turned to Seldrine’s parents and nodded. They both stood and said, “We are, Judge.” Before they sat down, I caught Frayne’s eye on me again.
“My client will do whatever the court instructs her to for the betterment of her family, her future, and herself.” I sat back down.
“What happens now?” Seldrine whispered to me.
“He considers both sides and rules on what he thinks is best.”
“Do you’’—she swallowed, her eyes shining with emotion—“think he’ll send me away?”
I clutched her hand and squeezed it again. “Take a breath and have some faith, Seldrine. Asa’s a good man and a fair judge. Whatever he rules, you’re going to comply with, even if it’s going to lockup for a time. Understand?”
“Cathy—”
“Understand?” I gave her my lawyer glare to show I meant business. She swallowed again, jerked her head in a few nods, then lowered her eyes.
My gaze drifted to the back of the courtroom. Frayne was still there, looking down at something in his hand. As if struck with some kind of telepathy, he lifted his head and connected with me in a heartbeat. My mouth fell open in shock at the smoldering heat staring straight at me. The hues in his pale eyes deepened to a warm mix of purple and azure, the color of the wild bluebells growing around the lake property my grandmother owned. The haunted sadness had flown, as had the anger I’d seen on Saturday, replaced now with such a well of unfathomable need, I couldn’t prevent my breath from quickening, or my heart from racing.
Seldrine touched my hand. “Cathy, what’s the matter?”
“What?” I blinked a few times, shook my head and brought her into focus. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me,” she said. “You got lost there, for a second.”
“No. No. I’m okay. I was just—” Asa’s heavy gavel rap pulled me to a stop.
“I’ve made a decision,” he bellowed.
I rose, tugging Seldrine with me.
“Mr. Grouty, I assume your office will begin investigating the home life of Mrs. Compton and her children.”
“Yes, Your Honor. It’s standard protocol, and I’ve already notified Social Services and the Department of Child Welfare.”
“Of course you have,” Asa muttered. “Fine, then, you go ahead with your plans. In the interim”—he turned his attention to our side of the room—“I’m ordering court-mandated substance-abuse meetings for a period of ninety days, every day for the defendant, subject to tagging on more time if I think it’s warranted. The clerk will give you the paperwork. In addition, the children can continue residing with their grandparents. I’m a big believer in stability, and shoving them into foster care when they obviously have family who’ll take care of them is a waste of taxpayer money. I’m allowing the defendant to interact with her children under court-supervised visits for now, until the prosecutor’s investigation is complete.”
Seldrine turned to her parents, who nodded at her.
“In addition, since our jail is already crowded enough, I’m releasing the defendant on her own recognizance. Mrs. Mulvaney, you will be responsible for seeing to it your client attends those meetings, and if I hear she missed even a single one, we’re gonna be back in here a.s.a.p. Understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The defendant will also need to provide the court with copies of her school transcript and her work timetable for the next three months. No sick days and no missed classes will be tolerated. Understood, young lady?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Asa banged his gavel. “The clerk’s gonna set up another hearing in thirty days for all of you. Everybody okay with that?”
“One more thing, if you please, Your Honor?” I said before he
could dismiss us.
“Counselor?”
“The issue of Mrs. Compton securing sole parental custody of the children is scheduled this week. It’s been on the docket for over a month.”
“Well, obviously it needs to be tabled until this situation is rectified,” Asa said. “We’ll revisit it when we convene again.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
Seldrine grabbed my hand. “Does this mean I’m not gonna get custody? Can Cam still be in their lives?”
The fear galloping in her eyes was all the proof I needed of why she’d gotten drunk. Knowing how fragile she still was, and where it could lead again if not checked, I tried my best to calm her anxiety.
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “It means it’ll take a little longer, is all. Don’t let it worry you. Cam has another four years mandatory left on his sentence. He won’t be out tomorrow and looking for you and the kids. Put it out of your mind, do you understand me?”
Her eyes spilled over, but she bobbed her head.
The next few minutes were filled with court scheduling business.
“I need to take you to a meeting right now,” I told my client, “so say your goodbyes, and then let’s get over to the church. Father Duncan has a meeting scheduled in half an hour, and you’re going to it.”
“Can’t I go home first and shower? I’ve been locked up all weekend, and I reek.”
“Nobody will care what you look or smell like. They’ve all been in the same place you have.”
“But—”
“You want your kids back?”
Her eyes glistened, and she swiped a finger under her dripping nose. “You know I do.”
“Then no excuses. The judge has made this my responsibility, and I take it very seriously. You’re going to be ready, on time, and compliant for every meeting. Do you understand me?”
She told me she did.
“Okay, let me finish up here, and then we’re leaving.”
Frayne was no longer in the back of the courtroom.
