The Choice

by Robert Whitlow

  “It’s personal. I need to use the scanner.”

  “Something to do with the deputy sheriff coming by to see you this morning in the faculty lounge?”

  “You heard about that?”

  John pushed away from the desk.

  “Sandy, first, a deputy sheriff from Tryon serves papers on Dr. Vale. Now, a local constable calls on you. Some people claim the incidents are related. Others claim they aren’t. The most logical guess is divorce papers; however, unless you secretly got married in Vegas and didn’t invite me to the wedding, I’m going to toss that rumor to the side.”

  Sandy managed a slight smile. John stood up.

  “Just don’t turn me in for taking a short nap. I worked until ten o’clock last night.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “And yours with me.” John’s face became serious. “I’m not going to pry into your business, but if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. In the meantime, I’m going to defend your honor to the max.”

  “Thanks,” Sandy said gratefully.

  As soon as the coach left, Sandy logged on to the computer and placed the papers she’d received on the scanner. After they were sent to Jeremy, she returned to her classroom where a dull roar of conversation greeted her. Sandy clapped her hands together and cleared her throat.

  “Turn to page 287 in your literature books.”

  Sandy was uneasy the rest of the day. The notoriety caused by the deputy in the teachers’ lounge was similar to the reactions from others she had experienced when her pregnancy became common knowledge. There were questions on every face she encountered. Knowing it’s impossible to control a rumor mill, Sandy kept her mouth shut. Efforts to stop the mill often gave it greater power. At cheerleading practice she tried to act normal, and as practice progressed the girls slipped into familiar patterns.

  During her afternoon walk several cars seemed to slow down as they passed by, and Sandy had to push away thoughts of paranoia. Later, she logged on to her computer and printed off the attorney-client contract sent by Jeremy. She stared, bug-eyed, at the hourly billing rate. Legal representation could end up costing her the price of a car at Bob Dortch’s auto lot. Sandy had counted the emotional and professional cost of helping Maria. Now she had to face the financial cost. She checked her bank account. Most of her savings, accumulated in small increments over the years, was tied up in investments recommended by Ben. She’d have to ask him for advice on which ones to sell. Before getting more depressed, she signed the contract and sent it back to Jeremy. She was in too deep to back out now.

  While eating supper, her cell phone beeped. It was Ben.

  “Hey, brother,” she said.

  “When were you going to call me?” Ben asked.

  “What did you hear?”

  “That a sheriff’s deputy served you with legal papers this morning at the high school. Three people called to let me know about it and ask what was going on. Does this have anything to do with the pregnant student you’re helping?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry I didn’t let you know,” Sandy said. “I was thinking about you when I checked my bank account earlier.”

  “Your bank account?”

  “Yes. I’m going to have to hire Jeremy Lane to represent me.”

  Sandy quickly told Ben what had happened, but he wasn’t satisfied with a condensed version. He made her read several paragraphs of the motion and the brief.

  “The newspaper is going to find out about this,” he said when she finished. “You need to decide what you’re going to say when a reporter calls.”

  Sandy hadn’t considered the possibility of media interest.

  “And I’m not just talking about the Rutland paper,” Ben continued. “This is the sort of thing that newspapers all over the country might pick up. The women’s organization in Atlanta probably has a publicity angle it wants to work.”

  “I hadn’t thought about reporters. I guess I’ll tell anyone who calls to speak to Jeremy.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Ben paused. “He’s a sharp young lawyer for a town like Tryon, but you’re going to need an attorney who’s used to playing on a bigger stage.”

  “He mentioned the possibility of getting help from national pro-life groups.”

  “You can’t count on that. I’m going to make some calls and try to find a lawyer with more experience to protect you.”

  “Thanks, but I want to stay with Jeremy.”

  “Why? You barely know him.”

  Sandy paused and took a deep breath.

  “Because he’s my son.”

  It wasn’t the way Sandy wanted to tell Ben about Jeremy, but her brother deserved to know the truth. There was nothing but silence on the other end of the phone.

  “How do you know?” Ben asked after a few moments.

  “Is Betsy there? I’d like both of you to hear this at the same time.”

  “I’ll tell her to pick up on the phone in the kitchen.”

  Sandy waited for a minute until her sister-in-law came on the line.

  “Hi, Sandy. What’s up?”

  When Sandy repeated her news about Jeremy, she heard Betsy gasp. Sandy told them about the first meeting in Jeremy’s office and the photograph on the corner of his desk.

  “And you’re sure it’s the same house?” Ben asked.

  “No doubt about it. And Jeremy mentioned that one reason he was willing to help my student is because he’s an adoptee. Think about it. Doesn’t he look like Jack?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “And when I researched him on the Internet, I found out that he was born in Atlanta on April 5, 1975. That’s the day the twins were born.”

  “Sandy, this is amazing,” Betsy said. “When are you going to tell him?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to have to do it soon.”

  “Who else knows?” Betsy asked.

  “Only Jessica. She found out by accident the other day when she came by the house and saw a photograph of Jeremy’s family beside my computer.”

  “You’re going to have to tell Mama too,” Ben said. “And Jack.”

  “I know, I know,” Sandy said, “but I barely have my head around the situation myself. Then all this came up with the lawsuit. I need to think about helping the student, but I’m distracted by Jeremy and his family.” Sandy paused. “Betsy, he has the cutest kids, a little girl and a boy. She looks like a Lincoln. The little boy favors Jeremy’s birth father.”

  “Sandy, you’re a grandmother!” Betsy exclaimed.

  “Yes, and I’m desperate to give them a hug.”

  “Hold on to something else for a minute,” Ben said. “We still need to figure out what you need to do about an attorney. This personal connection makes it less appropriate for Jeremy to represent you. Your lawyer needs to be focused on the case, not learning about his mother.”

  There was logic to Ben’s point.

  “You may be right,” Sandy admitted. “Let me think about it. Jeremy said the hearing next week is just a preliminary matter, the first shot in a bigger battle. Maybe I can decide after that.”

  “I’m not going to wait,” Ben said. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to start making some phone calls. I’ve had some recent dealings with a lawyer at a big firm in Atlanta who may be able to give me a recommendation. You need a constitutional lawyer with experience in that area.”

  “A son and two grandchildren!” Betsy cut in.

  “And he has a lovely wife,” Sandy said. “Ben, you’ve met her.”

  “Yes,” Ben sighed. “Leanne Lane is an attractive woman who seems to love her husband and kids. She asked several good questions when I met with them about their insurance plan.”

  “Smart too,” Betsy said. “Sandy, with you in the children’s bloodline, the kids are probably geniuses.”

  “Okay, ladies,” Ben said. “Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

  “Yes,” Betsy responded immediately. “When can I
come over and see the photos Jessica saw? Do you have any others?”

  “Tomorrow,” Sandy replied. “I took a bunch of pictures the other day when I followed them around in Tryon.”

  “You spied on them?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, and I’m glad I did,” Sandy shot back.

  “Me too,” Betsy said. “Call me when you get in from your walk tomorrow afternoon and I’ll be right over. This is so exciting!”

  The following morning Maria came by Sandy’s classroom before first period. She was holding some papers in her hand.

  “Come in,” Sandy said. “I think I know what you have.”

  “A man from the police gave this to my father.”

  Sandy took the papers from Maria and read them. It was a petition filed in juvenile court in Rutland claiming that Maria was mentally incompetent and needed a guardian appointed as soon as possible.

  “What does it mean?” Maria asked. “Rosalita and I couldn’t understand it.”

  Sandy explained in Spanish about the petition. Maria looked even more puzzled.

  “My English is not perfect, but it’s getting better and better. And I’m passing all my classes.”

  “That’s not the point. I’ll send this information to Mr. Lane, the lawyer. He already knows about it and is willing to help you for free.”

  “What should I tell my father? After the policeman came to our trailer, my father told me this is causing too much trouble for our family and that I should stop listening to you.”

  “He blames me?”

  “I told him you are trying to help, but he didn’t believe me. He said you just want me to do what you want me to do.”

  “Do you feel that way?” Sandy asked, realizing it would be a question that would come up at some point in the lawsuit filed against her.

  “A little bit.”

  “How can I help without making you feel like I’m trying to make you do something?”

  Maria didn’t answer. Instead, a tear rolled down her cheek. Sandy dropped the legal papers on the desk and wrapped the girl in her arms. Maria buried her head in Sandy’s shoulder and cried. After a couple of minutes passed, Sandy glanced up at the clock in the rear of the classroom. Students would start arriving shortly. She gently separated herself from Maria. The girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “My shoulder is here anytime you need it,” Sandy said softly.

  “Thank you.” Maria sniffled. “That is what I need the most.”

  “Have you heard from Ms. Ramsey?” Sandy asked.

  “I go to her office later this morning.”

  “What time?”

  “Second period. She gave Ms. Harrison a note taking me out of class.”

  Sandy bit her lip. She wanted to tell Maria before she left not to keep the appointment with Carol, but she didn’t.

  As soon as Sandy’s class was in their seats, she gave them an assignment and hurriedly walked to Coach Bestwick’s office. Five minutes later the petition was scanned and on its way to Jeremy.

  During her lunch period, Sandy felt multiple eyes following her down the line at the salad bar. When she sat with some fellow teachers, the conversation around the table stopped. Several women greeted her, but no one asked her any questions. She ate her salad in silence. The other people at the table drifted away, leaving her alone with Kelli Bollinger.

  “I think people are afraid that if they’re seen with you, some of the taint will rub off,” Kelli said.

  “That’s understandable. It’s never smart to take on the administration in public education.”

  “Unless you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Any advice?” Sandy asked.

  “I realize you can’t tell me anything that Maria has shared with you in confidence, but you have support among the staff.”

  “Is that why the other teachers left the table as soon as they could?”

  “Everyone knows you have a good head on your shoulders and wouldn’t do anything improper or unprofessional.” Kelli leaned forward. “And no one on the faculty has as much support in the general community as you do. I mean, every woman who’s been a cheerleader during the past twenty-five years would rally for you if asked to do so. And they’d make their husbands join them.”

  “This isn’t going to be a popularity contest with women carrying signs in front of the school,” Sandy replied. “It’s moved into the court system. I’ve had to hire a lawyer.”

  Kelli’s eyes grew big. “Then you may need to take your crowd to the courtroom.”

  Sandy hadn’t thought about turning the lawsuit into a public spectacle. Images of former students carrying signs outside the federal courtroom in Atlanta flashed through her mind.

  “That’s something I need to mention to my lawyer,” Sandy replied. “My head’s still spinning about what’s happened.”

  “And I can pray for you,” Kelli said.

  “Please do, but more for Maria than me. She’s scared and confused.”

  Right there, sitting at the table, Kelli started praying in Spanish. Her eyes were open, and no one nearby realized what she was doing. But Sandy understood. Hearing prayers for herself and Maria rolling off Kelli’s lips made tears come to Sandy’s eyes.

  “That was beautiful,” Sandy said in Spanish when Kelli finished. “I’ve spoken Spanish almost my whole life but never in prayer. I know God understands every language, but in some strange way, it makes sense to pray for Maria in Spanish.”

  “Spanish is a language of the heart.” Kelli smiled, touching her chest. “And the desire of your heart is to help this girl.”

  Kelli got up from the table.

  “Call me if you need me,” she said. “I mean it.”

  As she watched Kelli walk away, the isolation Sandy had felt minutes before was gone. Instead, phrases the Spanish teacher sent heavenward stayed with her.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Maria stopped by Sandy’s classroom at the end of day and told her Carol Ramsey had canceled the appointment with her.

  “Did she set another time?” Sandy asked.

  “No. She sent a note to my teacher telling me not to come. That’s all.”

  “Okay,” Sandy said, relieved. “Mr. Lane has a copy of the papers you and your father received. I’ll let you know what he says about them.”

  Maria seemed on the verge of saying something else. Sandy waited. The girl wrung her hands together.

  “What is it, Maria?” Sandy asked.

  Maria hesitated, then shook her head.

  “No.”

  Maria didn’t need another hug. It seemed a new problem had appeared in the girl’s world. Sandy wanted to ask about it but held back.

  “If you want to talk later, call my cell phone,” Sandy said. “Do you still have the number?”

  “Yes.”

  While on her afternoon walk Sandy’s phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number without a caller ID, and she suspected it was Maria calling from a borrowed phone. She switched Nelson’s leash to her other hand and answered the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Ms. Lincoln, it’s Jeremy Lane. Is this a good time to talk?”

  “Yes, I’m walking my dog. Did you receive the attorney-client contract and the legal papers served on Maria and her father?”

  “Yes, and this afternoon I did some preliminary investigation into both matters. I think the women’s group has two goals. First, to create a strong judicial precedent making it illegal for public educators to influence pregnant students not to have an abortion. Second, to expand the use of state guardianship laws to authorize third-party control of a pregnant teenager’s reproductive choices.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Good.”

  “What?”

  “I want to frame the other side’s position to sound shocking, horrible, terrible, and any similar adjective. This type of case will likely be as much a media battle as a legal one.”

  “I don’t want a media battle, but both Ben and a tea
cher at the school told me the same thing. I just want to protect Maria and her baby.”

  “It’s not always possible to control the boundaries of a legal fight. I’m preparing a sheet of talking points for you to use if you’re contacted by the press. The summary I gave you a minute ago will be on that list.”

  Sandy couldn’t imagine herself standing in front of a bank of microphones.

  “I’m not sure I’m prepared for this.”

  “You aren’t. No one is. This is way beyond my comfort zone as a lawyer, but after I read the motion, something rose up inside me. I talked to my mother about it last night, and she believes strongly that I’m supposed to help you and Maria.”

  “You told her about me?”

  “I didn’t give her your name, of course, but I told her what you were facing. She’s been more of a zealot about this issue than I have.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “What? I didn’t catch that.”

  “That’s good.” Sandy thought about Ben’s concerns regarding Jeremy’s inexperience. “Do you still think it would be a good idea to bring in outside help, especially if all this media stuff might happen?”

  “Maybe, but the lawyer representing the women’s organization is similar to me. He’s a plaintiff’s lawyer who specializes in cases against drug companies. He doesn’t have a background in constitutional litigation, and I suspect he took the case because someone he knew asked him to. I talked to him briefly. He’s been told you’re a domineering, right-wing authority figure trying to force a mentally limited pregnant teenager with poor English skills to have a baby that is the result of a rape or incest.”

  “That sounds bad too.”

  “He’s doing the same thing I am. Are you prepared to hear a news reporter repeat that about you as if it were true?”

  “No.”

  “There is a way to keep that from happening.”

  “What is it?”

  “Agree to cut off all contact with Maria now. We would enter into a consent order similar to the type used in cases of domestic abuse. You’d be prohibited from being around Maria or communicating with her in any way. If you did, you’d be subject to contempt of court.”