Great With Child

by Sonia Taitz

  Now Allen sat in a brocade-covered wing chair, feet up on a hassock, and listened to his brother’s surprising tale.

  “I hope I haven’t shocked you,” Richard was saying.

  “No, go on,” the older brother responded, almost expressionlessly.

  “These things happen, and they did—to us. But the point I want to make, Allen, is that I want to marry her as soon as possible.”

  “To make an honest woman of her, as it were.”

  “Well, there’s never been a woman more capable of honesty—though I wish she had kept fewer secrets from me at the relevant times. But I think we’ve both grown from the experience, and will only continue to grow. But anyway, Allen—she’s making an honest man of me. I’m the one who needs to learn to really father this child.”

  “You’re doing so well with my kids, and I’m so grateful, Richard. It can’t be easy.”

  “It’s not easy. But it’s worth it. And I suggest you really start to think about becoming more involved in their lives.”

  “They’ve got a great mother,” said Allen.

  “Who’s way overloaded. Overwhelmed, and not only by them but by you. The one who’s most overloaded happens to be you. How much money do you need? How much power? What title? Don’t you want to see them grow up? Why is it so hard for you to take the time for them—which is to say, for your own precious, irreplaceable, personal life?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Well, think it over. There are four people in this world who love you very much, and they all need you to be healthy.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Lauren? She seems much better to me. I know they don’t want you to drive out to see her yet—”

  “No, it’s not that. She’s mad at me, says I’m part of the problem, and that I’d have been a lot healthier and happier if I’d spent more time at home.”

  “Well, you’re getting that chance now.”

  “Not really. It’s awful being here alone, and frankly I can’t wait for those three scamps to come back.”

  “What did the doctor say about that?”

  “A few more weeks, and then we’ll all be good to go.”

  “Well, I can’t wait either. Not that I don’t love them or enjoy their company. But I’m committing to a life with this woman and child, Allen, and I want to move on with that life, and soon.”

  “I will step up. I promise. Although one thing—no carrying Martin for me anymore. That boy did love to be piggybacked,” said Allen, smiling. He’d done so on special occasions. “Do you ever carry him?”

  “Oh, yes—I give him rides all the time.”

  “Well, apparently, I won’t be able to from here on—not that these events were all that frequent—but I’m sad about that.”

  “Just explain it to him,” said Richard kindly. “That your body was sick but the doctors made it better. That he has to be gentle with you. Martin’s very smart and will more than meet you halfway. He’ll understand.”

  “Lauren says he’s the brightest of the three.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” said Richard, “but he’s got a good head on his shoulders and a very good heart to boot.”

  39

  When they finally met, Owen Thomas heartily approved of Richard, formerly the “cad.” He was equally proud of Abigail’s final agreement with Fletcher, Caplan. Surprisingly, they were letting her start up a division of children’s rights within the firm. Although they had offered her a partnership (to Abigail’s astonishment), she had refused, preferring to be “of counsel.” This meant that although she would work on the premises, and with a partner’s prestige, unlike the partners she would be a free agent. Richard would help her, behind the scenes.

  “It all sounds great, but you’ll be paid less, too, girl,” Owen had protested.

  “Maybe so,” Abigail had explained, “but so what, Dad? You were always so proud to be your own boss. Why would I work for a bunch of lying thieves who think they’re doing me such a big favor? What kind of power is that?”

  Abigail also took Evelyn on as a client, representing her agricultural patents. While Mrs. MacAdam’s potential in the field of agricultural crossbreeding had initially caused Mr. Fudim no small amount of bemusement, she and Abigail had the last laugh. The plants turned out to be quite lucrative for both women. There wasn’t a table in America—particularly one laden with pasta or pizza—that didn’t seem naked without some “basmary” on it.

  But Mrs. MacAdam seemed sad somehow, to Abigail. She seemed forlorn.

  She denied it, of course.

  “Me? Sad? Horse patties! Cow duggers! I’m laughing all the way to the bank and carrying back big bags with dollar signs on them, like Scrooge McDuck.”

  “Who?”

  “Donald Duck? Disney? Heard of them? Yes? Good! Scrooge was the rich one, counting his gold coins. Laughing to the bank, like me. Quacking and laughing. Half-and-half, you know? A mélange, as they say in France.”

  “Sure,” said Abigail. These attempts at merriment seemed flat and forced.

  “Not,” added Mrs. MacAdam, “that I’m literally laughing.”

  “No, you actually seem a little—”

  “I’m not laughing,” Mrs. MacAdam interrupted forcefully, “because I’m not a total lunatic, despite what everyone and his half-brother and illegitimate cousin says about me. Got it?”

  “Of course I’ve got it. Whatever you say.”

  “That’s right. Whatever I say, you say, and you’ll actually like it. And I’m not going to the bank. I’m disabled, and it’s hard to perambulate. So if you must know—and I’m guessing you must know, as I’m a rich McDucky client in whom you take a great interest—I prefer to do my banking online so I don’t have to wheel myself around and make a big to-do.”

  “Mmm hmm,” was all Abigail said at this point.

  Soon after, she managed to get Cora-Lee on the line. On her motorized wheels, Mrs. MacAdam was an ace at swiping up the phone by the second ring. But Abigail called late, after she knew the dowager had surely gone to bed.

  “Cora-Lee, I’m worried about the missus.”

  “What is troubling you about her?” said Cora-Lee, sounding a bit defensive.

  “She just seems—off, somehow. Sad, remote, grouchier than usual, sort of deflated.”

  “Everything here is the same, mostly. She go on with her routines. No more trial business, and that’s a good thing, she rest better at night, I think. But—no, she not herself, that is so,” said Cora-Lee, after a pause. “She hardly speak. Never yell at me these days—and you know what? I tell you, I miss that. And she hardly eat. Nothing to rush and get her. She hardly drink, either, not even her evening cocktail, and she did like her evening cocktail, you know?”

  “I’m sure she did. Oh, Cora-Lee. I’m worried! They settled handsomely—you must know, right? Mrs. MacAdam has been vindicated, scientifically, market-wise, legally. She’s getting paid and her patents are safe. And she’s going to make a fortune with those plants!”

  “Sound so good, Abigail. Good for all of you.” It was good for Cora-Lee as well. Mrs. MacAdam was generous, and would probably give her a substantial raise.

  “And through it all, I know you’ve taken the best care of her. So what’s the matter, do you think?”

  “She rich and successful, I know. More than ever. And she like having the victory and all that. She used to having money, from before, she tell me how much she and her husband Jock had luxury, luxury. So nothing new. But—but maybe winnin’ take the fire out of her.”

  “You mean, like she likes—maybe she needs—some kind of challenge?”

  “Sure, she need to be vexed, to scrapple and scrape with people. She mischievous. ‘Now what,’ you know? She win, so OK, that’s that. Now where’s the fun gonna be?”

  “Let me delve into that. It sounds right. Thanks, Cora-Lee.”

  The best way to delve was to call Jackson Moss, so Abigail did.

  “New case?�
� he said, excited to hear her voice.

  “Not exactly. But wow, we killed the last one, that’s for sure.”

  “I know—congratulations, Ms. Attorney. And I hear the firm’s finally treating you great. Like we all know you deserve.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Mrs. M; who else?” Jay laughed gently.

  “Yeah, in their way, they have been acting decent to me. And she’s a great client. But I might leave one day and start my own thing.”

  “You always gotta think independent, I say.”

  “On that topic, thanks again for sending me the camera.”

  “No need to say more.”

  “But really—it was so nice—”

  “No need to say more,” Jay said firmly, in a way that Abigail finally understood. Initiative, a nascent sense of independence? Yes. But discretion? She didn’t have too much of that.

  “I get it. I won’t say more about confidential evidentiary matters,” Abigail said, belatedly aware that she was, actually, saying more with those words. “Oops, sorry.”

  “Now I know why Mrs. M. likes you so much. Both of you don’t really know the first thing about keeping a poker face, do you?”

  “No, we don’t. We have that in common. And I’m actually calling for a different reason than to thank you or even to catch up on work. It’s personal, and it is about Mrs. M.”

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m beginning to get worried about her. With your help, I’d like to dig a little into her moods. Have you seen her lately? Have you heard anything about her state of mind?

  “State of mind? Hmm. That’s a complicated question anytime, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “But no, anyway I haven’t seen her, not much, Abigail. I mean, I’ve been over once or twice to give her my best for her success in the case.”

  “But nothing else?”

  “Well, Cora-Lee and I have gone out for a Ting or a cold beer or two now and again, but—”

  “Jay, I think Mrs. MacAdam is depressed, and Cora-Lee says she can see it, too,” Abigail finally blurted. “You know she gets that way. That’s what they say, like when Jock left her, and other sad times. She gets very low, very down. She’s—she’s a very emotional woman, Evelyn is.”

  Abigail noticed that her own voice was shaking. She really cared about Mrs. Evelyn MacAdam, just as Mr. Fudim had always said. Personally. On the most human level.

  “She’s a human being, is all,” Jay said, as though reading Abigail’s mind. “We can’t all be happy-happy all the time. Right? But if you want, I’ll go over and see her and tell you what I see, OK?”

  “I’d really appreciate that.”

  “It’s no problem, I’m going presently.”

  “You mean now?”

  “Why not? I just got my bike tuned up. It’s a fine evening. I’ll bring her some flowers and just say I was in the neighborhood.”

  “She knows you helped her win the case. I know she’ll be nice to you,” said Abigail, thinking aloud. “I mean, she’ll try to be.” Mrs. MacAdam could be mean, and if she was feeling as low as Abigail suspected she was, her nerves might show with a curt or crass comment.

  As though reading her thoughts, Jackson replied, “Hey, if she treats me rough and rude, we’ll know she’s just her old self, after all. So it’s all good.”

  “I hope it is.”

  But Jackson’s report was not all good. In fact, it didn’t sound good at all.

  “OK, Abigail. I have to admit I was kind of worried when I saw her.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was in a daybed downstairs, in the broad daylight. I was surprised. In pajamas, you know, like a nightdress, and not ailing, you know what I mean?”

  “Oh—”

  “And with half her teeth out. Like an old, old lady suddenly.”

  “Why would she—oh, Jay, did she say anything? I mean, what did she talk about? And wasn’t she self-conscious? I mean, she’s a proud woman.”

  “She just kinda sigh-sigh-sigh like the whole world was over.”

  “But—as you know better than anyone—things couldn’t be better on the legal and financial fronts! And Mr. Fudim—my boss, you know—is totally under her thumb. There is literally nothing in this case that did not go optimally—she ought to be the toast of the town!”

  “Yeah, of course I know everything about her and whatever else on this island, for that matter. And what I saw was a little disturbing. I’m just reporting what I saw and heard in this particular instance. Mrs. M. also talked about you a lot, and the past, and she talked about Jock. You know, her late husband?”

  “I remember, the one who got her mad by cheating on her, right?”

  “I think they loved each other a lot.”

  “Oh.”

  “The way she talked about him. She always does, you know. Every time I’ve ever spoken to her, she brings him up. And now, she sounded as though her life was over.”

  “But her plants are wonderful! They taste great! And they’re profitable! I could show her how great she’s doing financially! And what a vindication to all the skeptics, naysayers, and greedy pigs!” Even Abigail could sense the hollowness in her own enthusiasm. Maybe Mrs. MacAdam was about more than her plants. Maybe she was lonely in the wake of all that past excitement. Yes, of course she was.

  “Yeah, true, but now what?” Jay was saying.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think she likes a little battle, this lady, Mrs. M.,” he said, echoing Cora-Lee’s view. “The way she teases everyone. The anger in her eyes, the spit and the bile you see. What do you American lawyers call it? Piss and vinegar? It’s almost funny, right? But I think it—the piss-vinegar—it helps keeps her alive. It moves her blood.”

  “Now that I think of it, she hardly ever calls me anymore.”

  “She’s hiding—in a kind of retreat, you know?”

  “What could I do for her now? Can you think of anything, Jay? Some way to give her a reason to live?”

  “Good point you make, and I’ll give it some thought. Maybe another agricultural invention?”

  “She was working hard on expanding the basmary. More stores, more countries. She was getting somewhere in Italy—and you know they eat a lot of pizza in Italy. Basmary’s great with pasta, too. And then there was that cucumber hybrid—but no,” Abigail continued, “It’s got to be along more personal lines. She’s conquered almost everything but the question of being part of a family. Do you think she’s up to that challenge?”

  Jackson laughed.

  “You mean, your family? Be part of that? Are you up to that?”

  “Yes, and I won’t be alone. Richard and I are getting married—”

  “Finally!”

  “Hey—I wanted to finish the case first, and Richard has been taking care of his brother’s kids—”

  “No, I’m just teasing. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

  “Well, my father—and most of the conventional world—might disagree. But anyway, Richard’s brother and sister-in-law are finally getting much better, and I’d like to plan a wedding. A small one, but it’s still all new to me, and—well, I don’t have a mother to advise me. . . .”

  “So you want Evelyn MacAdam to come to New York City?”

  “I really do. Do you think she’d be up to it?”

  “She’s up to any challenge, that one. But are you ready to push some old woman around for the rest of her life?”

  “Yes. But I won’t have to. Because first of all, as you know, given your powers of keen observation, her chair is motorized. But secondly—secondly, Jay, I think I found another actual challenge. A good one that might change her life.”

  Abigail paused dramatically. But because she was not a poker player, she continued immediately after that momentary breath and blurted:

  “Evelyn MacAdam will learn to walk again. It’s ridiculous to keep a dynamo like that sitting down.”

  “Bravo
! Love it! Love to be there to see it,” said Jackson. “That’s a photograph I’d like to have, for sure.”

  “I’ll take it and I’ll send it to you,” Abigail promised. “You’ll see. And of course, you’ll come to the wedding and you’ll see her walk in person.”

  40

  But first, of course, Evelyn MacAdam would have to fly from Grenada to New York.

  “I’ve always hated planes,” she grumbled on the phone to Abigail. “And since one actually fell on me, you can’t really call me a ‘fraidy cat.’”

  “I never liked them much either,” Abigail admitted. “I nearly lost Chloe in one, remember?”

  “No, I don’t,” said Mrs. MacAdam crossly. “I’ve never met Chloe, simply saw her in your enormous tummy.”

  “Well, you will now. And Richard. And Martin, his little nephew. I was just saying that I had a bad flight, too, so I know how you feel.” Sensitively, Abigail avoided mentioning that a large part of her legal business, up to now, had been aviation disasters.

  “You’re giving me no comfort with your selfish reminiscing. Now, how am I going to travel up north if I can’t get on the damn things?”

  “We could rent a yacht for you. Put all your stuff on it.”

  “What stuff? Stop wasting my time and my money. I’m going to face my fears.”

  “I’m going to applaud that,” said Abigail, hoping that Evelyn would also rise to the occasion of walking again.

  “And I’m not taking ‘stuff.’ Bunch of creaky chairs and a couple of cushions. It’s junk, it’s old, it’s yesterday. I’m looking at tomorrow, so long as I can get there.”

  Abigail hesitated. “Would you like me to come with you?”

  Mrs. MacAdam seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

  “You mean, fly all the way down to get me, and then fly all the way back to New York with me?”

  “Yes,” said Abigail. “That’s what I do mean.”