Cracks in the Sidewalk

by Bette Lee Crosby

  Dudley Grimm, a small dark-haired man with the expression of an undertaker, answered, “Good morning.”

  Charles nodded and followed them into the conference room.

  They settled around the table and Dudley opened his writing tablet. “Let’s start with an overview of everything that’s been going on.”

  “The long and short of it,” Charles answered, “is that Liz’s husband refuses to allow the children to visit their mother.”

  “For how long?”

  “It began shortly after Liz started chemotherapy treatments late last year. She saw the kids once in October, and after that Jeffrey stopped bringing the children to the hospital. In November he broke off all communication, even phone calls. Then last month he told Claire he’d rather burn in hell than allow anyone in our family to see the kids.”

  Dudley began writing. “Did he give any explanation for this behavior?”

  “Jeffrey told Liz he thought it would be better for the kids if she didn’t spend time with them. He claimed he was trying to wean the children so they wouldn’t be so traumatized when she dies. That was last fall. Liz has probably seen the kids once or twice since then.”

  “You realize,” Claire interjected, “that such an idea is ridiculous, especially since Liz is doing extremely well. A terminal diagnosis doesn’t necessarily mean a person is at death’s door. It simply means that whenever the person does die, it will probably be from that illness.”

  “Oh. And Elizabeth,” he said, still scribbling notes. “Is she awake, coherent, able to converse with the children?”

  “Of course,” Charles said emphatically. “Liz occasionally has short memory lapses, but it’s mostly insignificant, everyday things. When it happens, it only lasts a few minutes. She might not remember the name of a color or what to call a food, but she remembers everything about the kids. Even when she can’t tell you what day of the week it is, she can tell you what Christian weighed when he was born and the name of Kimberly’s favorite doll.”

  “Good,” Dudley said without glancing up. “Very good. So am I correct in assuming what we’re looking for here is a court-mandated schedule of parental visitations for Elizabeth?”

  “Oh, Liz would like more than just visitation,” Claire said. “What she wants is full custody of all three children.”

  For the first time, Dudley stopped writing and looked up. “Wants custody?”

  Charlie turned to Claire, astonished. “Custody?” he repeated. “Liz never said—”

  “She might not have said it in so many words,” Claire countered. “But I know for certain it’s what she intended.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dudley stammered. “If Elizabeth’s condition is terminal, who’s going to—”

  “Me,” Claire answered. “Our house has plenty of room, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Liz and the children.”

  “Even if that’s true,” Dudley said, “no court will award custody to—”

  Harsh words did not come easily to Dudley Grimm so he hesitated, trying to find a tactful way to say what he had to say. When none came to mind, he reluctantly finished the statement. “A mother who’s dying.”

  “Liz isn’t dying,” Claire replied sharply. “She’s learning to live with her disability. Surely the court will understand that. If they have a concern about her ability to care for the children, then let them assign custody to us.”

  “Us?” Charlie echoed. “Why, we’ve never even discussed—”

  “That won’t happen anyway,” Dudley said. “You’re grandparents. Unfortunately, grandparents have no legal standing, except in rare instances where both parents are deceased, and there is no specific—”

  “What about if the father is an unfit parent?” Claire asked.

  “Unfit how?”

  “He’s mean, intolerant, selfish, has no job, has a girlfriend living with him—”

  “Does he abuse the children in any way? Neglect their care? Leave them unattended?”

  “I can’t say that exactly.”

  “Then you have no case,” Dudley said apologetically. “Without specific proof of such actions, the court automatically awards custody to the natural parent.”

  “Well, what about if we say—”

  “Claire!” Charlie interrupted. “That’s enough! Let’s get on with what we came here to do, which, in case you’ve forgotten, is to get Liz visitation with the kids.”

  Dudley Grimm breathed a sigh of relief. “That, I think, is quite doable.”

  He asked a number of questions about Jeffrey: his home address, his last place of employment, any known childcare arrangements, and whether he had retained a lawyer to fight this action. Writing furiously again, Dudley asked about the children, the state of their health, and their previous relationship with their mother. Just before the meeting came to an end, he requested the name, address, and telephone number of Elizabeth’s doctor.

  Thus it Began

  On the second Tuesday of May the Caruthers’ doorbell chimed early in the morning, so early that JT was still in bed. Believing it to be Claire, he squeezed his eyes shut and tugged the blanket over his head. A few minutes later he heard the knock—a knock much too heavy for Claire, unless she’d come back with the sledgehammer. He bolted out of bed and flew down the stairs ready for a fight.

  “I warned you—” he screamed as he yanked open the door.

  “Jeffrey T. Caruthers?” the sheriff’s deputy asked.

  “Yes, but if this is about the store—”

  The deputy handed him an envelope, politely said, “Have a nice day,” and turned toward his car.

  “Wait,” JT cried out. “What’s this?”

  The deputy didn’t bother looking back. He climbed into the patrol car, pulled out of the driveway, and disappeared down the street.

  “What the—” JT looked at the envelope, addressed to him but with a return address of the Union County Courthouse. Still groggy and bewildered he stumbled back inside, flopped down on the sofa, and tore open the envelope.

  At the top of the first page a line of bold black letters shot through him like bullets:

  Motion to Compel Parental Visitation

  Caruthers v Caruthers

  “No way!” he screamed and slammed the paper down. The noise startled Christian who woke crying, which hardly concerned Jeffrey since he’d launched into a full-blown rage.

  “This is Liz’s doing!” he ranted. “Her and that crappy family of hers! Troublemakers, that’s what they are, big-time troublemakers! Their life is miserable, so they think they’re gonna make mine miserable too! Well, this time they ain’t getting away with it!”

  He angrily kicked over the coffee table and sent a stack of magazines flying. “If they want a fight, I’ll give it to them! I’ll make them wish they never heard of me! I’ll—”

  Suddenly JT noticed Kimberly on the stair clutching Ballerina Bear. “Daddy, are you mad at me?” she asked tearfully.

  “Oh.” Jeffrey saw the fear in his daughter’s eyes, and shame overcame him. “No, sweetheart, Daddy’s not mad at you. I just bumped into the coffee table and knocked it over.”

  “Were you yelling because it hurt?”

  “Yes, Kimberly,” he replied. “It hurts a lot.”

  He stood there for a few moments, saying nothing. Then he righted the table, picked up the magazines, and headed for Christian’s room. After changing the baby’s diaper, he dressed David and Kimberly and herded them downstairs for breakfast.

  “There is no French toast,” he patiently explained as he poured milk over two bowls of Captain Crunch and set them in front of the children. He scattered a handful of Cheerios on the highchair tray and began to spoon strained applesauce into Christian’s mouth.

  As Jeffrey performed each task his mind churned with thoughts of how he could get back at Elizabeth and her family.

  ~ ~ ~

  Once the children were settled in front of the television, Jeffrey called Missus Ramirez. When she a
rrived, he went into the family room and locked the door.

  Jeffrey’s first call was to Harry Hornzy, a man who’d been arrested seven times and not once convicted. “I’m gonna need some legal help, so I thought of you.”

  Harry gave a raucous guffaw. “Yeah, well—”

  “I hear tell your lawyer is pretty good at winning cases, so I figured—”

  “He’s good; he ain’t cheap.”

  “Good is what I’m looking for. I’ll pay what I gotta pay. I want a bloodthirsty shark—you know the type—somebody who’ll chew my wife to pieces and spit out the remains.”

  “Walter’s your guy. Walter Petrecca. You gotta tell him I sent you else he plays it straight and narrow, you get what I mean?”

  “Yeah. He sounds like what I’m looking for.”

  Jeffrey’s next call was to Walter Petrecca. “Harry Hornzy suggested I call. I’ve got a problem, and I need a lawyer.”

  “What kinda problem? Assault? Break and enter? Car jack—”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s a custody battle.”

  “Custody? That’s a family dispute. I do criminal law.”

  “You gotta help me,” JT said, desperation threading his voice. “My wife’s using her family to bury me. I need somebody vicious enough to destroy the bitch.”

  “Oh,” Petrecca said. “One of those. My ex, she’s the same.”

  “Okay, so you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. I feel for ya, but I still don’t do family law. If you want, I’ll give you the name of the lawyer who handled my divorce. It’s a woman, but don’t let that fool you. This one’s a killer. My ex wanted the house plus one-hundred-thou alimony. Noreen whacked her down to ten.”

  That was enough to convince JT. He took Noreen Sarnoff’s telephone number and called her next.

  ~ ~ ~

  On Friday morning Jeffrey Caruthers met with Noreen, a six-foot-tall blonde with razor sharp features. He handed her the notice he’d received, along with a check for eight thousand dollars.

  “I trust you can take care of this,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow as if to question his doubt. “Isn’t that what you’re paying me for?”

  They rehashed Jeffrey’s reasons for not allowing the children to visit their mother. Noreen studied the Motion to Compel Visitation.

  “Looks like this is going to Judge Brill,” she said. “He’s a softie. The probability is he’ll be sympathetic to the dying mother.”

  “What kind of crap is that?” Jeffrey snapped. “Elizabeth’s dying! She’s got a brain tumor! That’s one step away from being a vegetable. How can anybody have sympathy for a vegetable?”

  “Hold on a minute. Are you saying your wife is incapable of recognizing or conversing with the children?”

  JT shrugged. “She’s probably not that bad.”

  Noreen again raised her eyebrow. “Okay, let’s clarify this. Is there any actual medical proof your wife is incoherent, mentally incompetent, or violent enough to cause physical damage?”

  He shook his head.

  “Too bad,” Noreen replied. “That would have given us a real edge.”

  JT smiled. Petrecca was right: she was a killer.

  When Jeffrey left Noreen Sarnoff’s office the corners of his mouth had turned up and he was whistling.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two days later Noreen telephoned Jeffrey at home.

  “I spoke to your wife’s doctor,” she said. “A Rebecca Sorenson. She acknowledged that Elizabeth’s tumor has been diagnosed as terminal but also indicated that the chemotherapy treatment your wife is undergoing has resulted in a marked improvement. According to Sorenson Elizabeth still suffers from left-side paralysis and occasional memory lapses, but otherwise she’s perfectly coherent and capable of restricted motion activities. In fact, she suggested that seeing the children would be extremely beneficial for Elizabeth.”

  “Of course she’d think that, she’s being paid by—”

  “Regardless,” Noreen interrupted. “The bottom line is Doctor Sorenson can hurt, but not help, your case.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We find our own medical expert, someone who’s more attuned to our way of thinking. And we have to do more than answer your wife’s motion. We need to go back at her with an aggressive counter complaint.”

  “For what?”

  “We’ll file a motion requesting sole legal custody of all three children based on her limited life expectancy. That will give you the authority to make decisions concerning what is or isn’t in the best interest of the children.”

  “Sole legal custody,” JT repeated. “That’s good, real good.”

  Five days later Claire McDermott stood at the front door of her house and signed for the registered letter sent from the family law division of the Union County Court. Even before she’d closed the door, Claire could sense bad news seeping through the paper. Registered letters were almost always bad news. Friendly mail waited in a mailbox until a person had time for it. Bad news was something Elizabeth could do without, Claire reasoned. She carried the envelope into the kitchen and slit it open. The document inside read:

  Caruthers v Caruthers

  Petition for Sole Legal Custody of Three Minor Children

  “This is ridiculous,” Claire grumbled. “He’s already got custody!”

  She slapped the paper down on the counter and walked into the dining room. For several minutes she stood there staring out the window, seeing nothing but the words: sole legal custody. Finally she turned back to the kitchen, picked up the paper, and began to read.

  Apparently Jeffrey wasn’t only seeking custody of the children, he was also asking the court to deny Elizabeth’s request for visitation rights because it was not in the best interest of his children and would cause them undue emotional distress.

  “His children,” Claire huffed. “His! That’s so JT, acting as if Liz had no part in the birth of those babies!”

  For a good two minutes Claire stood there talking to herself, giving voice to her anger. Finally she picked up the telephone and called Charlie at his office. “You can’t imagine what he’s done now.”

  “What who’s done?” Charlie replied.

  Claire gave an audible huff. “You know who I mean. Jeffrey!”

  “Oh.” Charlie sighed.

  “He’s filed a petition asking for custody of the kids.”

  “Hasn’t he already got custody?”

  “He wants sole custody! He wants to deny Liz visitation rights!”

  “That’s ridiculous! No court is going to—”

  “Maybe not,” Claire interrupted. “But we can’t take a chance that—”

  “We’re not going to,” Charlie answered. “Call Dudley, and let him know what’s going on. He’ll handle it.”

  “Are you sure Dudley can—”

  “Of course he can. He’s a lawyer!”

  Claire hung up the telephone wishing she felt more certain of Dudley Grimm’s capabilities. He was such a mild-mannered man, so soft-spoken and small, so slender and only inches taller than Claire herself. She would have preferred someone with a booming voice and powerful girth, someone capable of striking fear into the opposition.

  ~ ~ ~

  That evening Claire met Charlie when he came through the door. “Don’t mention this to Liz,” she whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

  “Doesn’t know?” Charles echoed. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to worry her right now. She’s had a good day, so why spoil it?” Claire went back to preparing dinner.

  Two days later Dudley Grimm telephoned Claire.

  “Judge Brill called a conference with me and Jeffrey’s lawyer,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “My guess would be that his docket is overloaded. He’s probably going to ask that we come to a mutually agreeable resolution out of court.”

  “The judge can conference all he wants, but I’ll never give up Liz’s right to see her children nor will
I agree to Jeffrey having sole custody.”

  “Claire,” Dudley said, “you don’t get to make any of the decisions in this case. These actions concern only Elizabeth and Jeffrey. As far as the court is concerned, you and Charles are basically bystanders.”

  “Excuse me?” Claire’s voice was riddled with indignation. “We are not simply off-the-street bystanders. We’re the children’s grandparents!”

  “But as I explained, in the state of New Jersey grandparents have no legal standing in a custody battle. The only exception would be a case where both parents are either deceased or declared unfit to raise the children.”

  Claire sputtered a few more objections, but when she hung up the telephone she knew the time had come to tell Elizabeth.

  Judge Brill didn’t tolerate squabbling lawyers and frivolous actions, something he made perfectly clear before he’d settled into his seat.

  “I see no reason why I should have a case such as this on my docket.”

  “Your Honor,” Dudley Grimm said mildly. “My client is a dying woman who has asked for nothing more than a few personal mementos and access to her three children.”

  “Reasonable enough request,” Judge Brill commented. He turned to Noreen Sarnoff. “Why does your client have a problem with that?”

  “Well, Your Honor.” Noreen sighed in the breathless way that caught men off guard. “The children in question are young and extremely impressionable. The father feels that seeing their mother die in front of them would cause extreme emotional trauma.” She gave another sigh. “Then there’s the issue of the grandparents—”

  “The grandparents,” Dudley cut in, “are responsible and upstanding parents who have stepped in to care for their terminally-ill daughter because her husband refused to do so. Understandably, they are concerned about the welfare of her children.”

  Judge Brill looked to Noreen.

  “Not so, Your Honor,” she said. “The grandmother exhibits a tendency toward violence. That became obvious when she attacked my client’s house with a sledgehammer.”

  Judge Brill gave an impatient huff and rolled his eyes. “Is there any chance that these people can reach an out-of-court agreement through mediation?”