Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  They ordered their drinks and meals at one time. Both selected a bowl of seafood stew—a concoction not unlike Alexia’s homemade gumbo, but with a greater concentration of garden vegetables. Cornbread came with the meal. Ted added a vegetable plate of collard greens, mashed potatoes, and okra with tomatoes. After the waitress left, Ted described the initial musical session.

  “It was similar to what we’ve done in the past, but not having to conform to a schedule made a big difference. We went on for much longer than usual.”

  He related how Baxter moved his right foot and fingers in response to Sarah’s command. “That’s the good news,” he said.

  Their food arrived, and Ted prayed. But he didn’t limit the blessing to thanks for stew, cornbread, and collard greens seasoned with vinegar. He extended the request toward Baxter Richardson.

  Alexia ate a bite of cornbread. “Is that all the good news?”

  “No, we took a break for coffee and then had a time of praise and thanksgiving. I’ve never heard anyone sing like Sarah Locklear. Her voice is clear, and I don’t mean technically. There is spiritual power in her singing that touched me as much or more than it did Baxter.”

  Alexia tried to suppress the familiar twinge of jealousy. It was impossible not to compare herself unfavorably to the nurse.

  “That’s wonderful,” she managed, inwardly kicking herself for being childish.

  Ted continued. “As far as I could tell, Baxter slept through the worship time, but when we stopped about five o’clock in the morning, he woke up. I was sitting beside the bed, and he looked up at me. He didn’t have that glazed-over, disoriented look on his face.

  “Did he talk to you?”

  “Yes,” Ted chased down a bite of collard greens with his fork. “And that was the troubling part. Sarah went into the kitchen. He asked me to lean close and spoke in a whisper.”

  Ted stopped and looked over Alexia’s shoulder. She turned around as two men at an adjacent table got up to leave. There was no one else within earshot. Ted lowered his voice.

  “What did Rena tell you caused Baxter to fall from the cliff?”

  “I can’t tell you because it’s protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

  “Why?”

  Her first response had been a legal reflex. The second question made her stop and think. She took a sip of tea.

  “Rena told me information with an expectation that I’d keep it confidential. She hired me to protect her interests and needs to be able to confide in me without fear.”

  Ted’s face remained serious. “Does she always tell you the truth?”

  Alexia winced. “I can’t answer that without violating my ethical rules.”

  Ted looked down and stirred his tea with a short, stainless-steel spoon.

  “Then perhaps I shouldn’t tell you what Baxter said to me.”

  Alexia wanted the information. “Why? Was it troubling?”

  Ted shook his head. “You’re not going to cross-examine me.”

  Alexia flushed slightly. Ted was being unreasonably obstinate.

  “You don’t have any confidentiality rules to restrict you. I’d tell you what happened at the waterfall if I could. Did Baxter accuse Rena of something?”

  Ted took a sip of tea. “Isn’t there legal protection for conversations with a minister?”

  “Yes, but the person has to know that you’re a minister, and it must be in a counseling situation. Does Baxter know that you are a minister?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that alone doesn’t mean he was seeking counsel.”

  “What is the difference between counsel and help?”

  Alexia bit her lip. “Ted, I need to know what’s going on. We can talk in circles or you can tell me what Baxter told you.”

  Ted shook his head. “I don’t think it would be right to discuss my conversation with Baxter unless Rena agrees to let you talk openly with me.”

  “You mean unless she waives the attorney-client privilege?”

  “Yes.”

  Expanding the circle of those with sensitive information exponentially increased the risks of uncontrolled disclosure. Alexia hesitated before responding.

  “I could discuss it with her, but I doubt—” Alexia paused as an idea came to her. “Remember when I asked you to consider counseling Rena?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never mentioned it to her. But that might be a way to solve this. She could talk with you as a ministerial counselor with the understanding that what she tells you will remain private.”

  “Does she want counseling?”

  “I’ll see if she’s open to the possibility. I can tell her how much you’ve helped me.”

  “Would you be there too?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where would we meet?”

  “The church would be my choice.”

  Ted nodded. “Okay. I’m willing to help her. That might be the best thing to do.”

  Dr. Simon Leoni didn’t come to Santee until Monday morning. After conducting a neurological examination of Baxter, he walked out of the cottage with Ezra. They stood facing each other on the sidewalk.

  “Movement to his extremities is definitely returning,” the doctor said. “The scans taken in Greenville after the accident showed significant displacement of the spinal cord, but it wasn’t severed; however, this degree of improvement isn’t common. I would have given him less than a 25 percent chance of regaining even the limited motion we saw today.”

  “What about his left side?”

  “I elicited a trace response in his left arm. His leg is still at zero. Given what I found today, he may possibly regain some level of functioning in both his arms and hands. The legs are more difficult to predict. If you’d asked me a week ago if he would ever walk again, I would have told you no. Now, I’m not so certain. I’ll schedule another MRI to see if there has been any decrease in displacement of the spinal cord.”

  The two men parted. Ezra walked over to the house and rang the doorbell. No one answered. He rang it again. In a few moments, Rena cracked open the door and motioned for him to come inside. She quickly shut the door behind him. She was barefooted and wearing a quilted housecoat.

  “I didn’t feel well this morning,” she said, blowing her nose on a tissue. “The nurse called when the doctor arrived, but I didn’t want to expose Baxter to whatever I have.”

  Ezra relayed the information he’d received from Dr. Leoni.

  “Did you talk to Baxter?” Rena asked.

  “He was groggy. He knew I came to visit but didn’t want to keep his eyes open. How is he responding to you?”

  “Oh, we’ve had some sweet times together, but he’s still very confused. One minute, his thinking is clear; the next, he’s talking nonsense.”

  Ezra glanced past Rena toward the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee?” he asked.

  “Sure. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll pour you a cup.”

  Ezra liked Rena’s coffee. She set the cup on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Ezra took a drink before he spoke.

  “What’s the latest from Jeffrey? I’ve been out of town for several days and just returned last night.”

  Rena put an index finger to her lips. Taking a slip of paper from a pad near the phone, she wrote on it and passed it to her father-in-law. He’s listening.

  “Oh, he’s fine, I guess,” she answered in a casual voice.

  Ezra gave her a startled look and then wrote on the pad. Jeffrey?

  Rena nodded.

  Ezra continued to write. When can we meet?

  “That’s good,” he said. “I haven’t talked to him since I returned.”

  Rena slid the note back. I’ll be followed.

  “I’ve got to go,” Ezra continued. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  He scribbled beneath Rena’s words. Tomorrow, my office—3:00pm—$$

  Rena nodded. “I’ll take something so I feel better.”

  Gwen cornered Alexia around ten thi
rty the following morning. Coming into the lawyer’s office, she closed the door.

  “I’ve told the receptionist to hold your calls for five minutes,” she said. When Alexia started to protest, she continued. “Except for Sean Pruitt. I know you’re waiting on notification of the hearing in Charleston. Let’s have it.”

  Alexia pushed her chair away from her desk. “Okay. I talked to Ted, and it’s just what I suspected. He and the nurse spent the night praying for Baxter, who is regaining use of his right arm and leg. Their time at the cottage was like being in church.”

  “Which is where you first kissed the minister, if I recall my facts correctly,” Gwen retorted.

  Alexia smiled. “Guilty, but the whole deal with Baxter is different from anything I’ve been involved in. For Ted, it’s completely unselfish.”

  “And for you?”

  “I’m like a kindergartener who barely knows the alphabet. Until I met Ted, I never considered that God might do miracles. The stories in the Bible were no more real to me than fairy tales.”

  Gwen was thoughtful. “Did you actually see him move his hands and legs?”

  “On the right side. I started to tell you on Saturday, but you were focused like a laser beam on Sean Pruitt.”

  Alexia told Gwen about her visit to the cottage, leaving out the recorded conversation. Scoring points on cross-examination with a worthy opponent was rewarding, but the lawyer couldn’t escape a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of a barely conscious man. Gwen stood when Alexia finished.

  “What does Rena want to do?”

  “She wants out more than ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave me the go-ahead to file the complaint for divorce within the next few days.”

  After Gwen left, Alexia phoned Rena at the house. Rena answered and curtly told Alexia that she would call back at a more convenient time. In a few seconds, a return call was routed to Alexia’s office.

  “What’s going on?” Alexia asked.

  “It’s Jeffrey.”

  Rena proceeded to tell Alexia about the electronic eavesdropping.

  “Surveillance!” Alexia exclaimed. “He has no right to do that. It’s not his house!”

  “You tell him,” Rena replied. “Right now I’m standing on my deck in a cold wind talking to you since I don’t know whether he’s bugged my house or not.”

  Alexia’s mental wheels were turning. “Maybe Sean can find out from Quinton.”

  “But he’s been in jail for weeks.”

  “And according to Sean still maintains his contacts on the outside.”

  “Go ahead and ask him then, but in the meantime we’d better communicate on cell phones.”

  “Which can also be tapped. What else did he tell you?”

  When Rena finished, Alexia asked, “Did Jeffrey claim that the equipment at the cottage picked up my conversation with Baxter?”

  “I don’t think so. That’s why he asked me about the tape.”

  “What else?”

  Alexia could hear Rena sigh. “I told him what really happened at the waterfall. He could hear your questions and that made it impossible to avoid the issue. He asked me point-blank whether Baxter tried to push me off the cliff, and I told him everything—our argument about the Richardson companies, what I’d tried to do to handle the problem on my own, and how crazy Baxter acted.”

  “How did he take the news?”

  “He was shocked, but now he understands why I want to divorce Baxter. I think he’s more willing to help me now.”

  “Did you tell him about the subpoena demanding a copy of the videotape?”

  “No, it didn’t come up. The whole thing with Baxter blew him away. We didn’t talk about anything else.”

  “Did he say anything about what happened with Ted Morgan and the nurse the night before?”

  “He thought it was a waste of time.”

  “Did he mention any conversations Ted Morgan had with Baxter?”

  “No, weren’t you going to talk to Ted about it?”

  “I had lunch with him yesterday, but he wouldn’t tell me. He wants to hear your side of what happened at the waterfall before letting me know what Baxter said to him. I can’t do that without your permission, and it’s risky anyway. But I think I know how we can address it.”

  “How?”

  “You can go to him for counseling.”

  “I don’t need counseling from a music minister!”

  Alexia explained her strategy to Rena, who remained skeptical.

  “It’s the only way to find out what he knows and at the same time keep your comments to him confidential,” Alexia insisted. “You won’t have to meet with him again or establish an ongoing counseling relationship.”

  As soon as she spoke the words, Alexia felt a bit dirty. At the heart of her idea was a nugget of deception.

  “Okay,” Rena replied. “Set it up, and I’ll go so long as you’ll be with me.”

  34

  And after all, what is a lie? ’Tis but the truth in masquerade.

  LORD BYRON

  Sean Pruitt called Alexia. The hearing on the motion to quash the subpoena was set for Wednesday afternoon at 3:00 PM.

  “Should I bring the tape in case the motion is denied?” she asked. “It’s in a safe-deposit box at the bank, and I’ll need to get it out before I leave Santee.”

  “Bring it. If we win, I’d still prefer to have the tape in my possession. If we lose, it will save you a trip to deliver it to the solicitor’s office.”

  “Should Rena come?”

  “I’ve already filed a response that she doesn’t have a copy of the video, so it’s not essential that she be there. No warrant for her arrest will be issued until the tape is reviewed.”

  “Okay.”

  Pruitt paused. “Is something else going on with Rena?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can hear it in your voice. Something is troubling you. Has the detective from Mitchell County returned?”

  “I don’t think so. If he tried to see Baxter, Rena would have let me know. But I had a chance to talk to Baxter.”

  Alexia explained what happened at the cottage.

  “I agree. His statement’s not definitive,” Pruitt said when she finished. “But it helps, and together with Rena’s testimony could create a credible argument for self-defense.”

  “Rena is convinced it’s airtight.”

  “She bounces around a lot, doesn’t she?”

  “Gwen and I call her ‘the yo-yo client.’ The only problem is that I’m the yo-yo she’s constantly yanking on.”

  “I’ll try to ease some of the yanking for you. Has the divorce been filed?”

  “No, but it will be as soon as we tell her that she can leave Santee and not look back.”

  “Wednesday will determine the next step.”

  “Oh, there’s one other thing,” Alexia added. She told him about her conversation with Ted Morgan.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for Rena talk to anyone. Who knows what she will say?”

  “I’ll be there with her.”

  “Will that make any difference?” Sean asked. “It didn’t deter her in Charleston. Perhaps you can tell the minister what Rena told you, and she can simply nod her head that your account of the facts is correct. Keep her from opening her mouth.”

  “Which I should have done when we first met with you.”

  “Probably.”

  “Okay.”

  Rena didn’t try to hide the fact that she was driving to Richardson and Company headquarters. Even before Baxter’s injury, she avoided the building, unknown territory inhabited by people she didn’t know and couldn’t trust. She’d been to Ezra’s office only one other time. She parked in the parking place marked, “Reserved for Baxter Richardson.”

  Expertly landscaped grounds, as carefully manicured as the golf courses developed by the firm, surrounded the two-story stone and brick structure. A small stream flowed across the ground in front of the building, and
the path to the entrance crossed a narrow bridge. The original golf-equipment-manufacturing facilities were farther down the road. Gold lettering on the wall above the door proclaimed, “Richardson and Company.”

  Rena entered the spacious lobby. A young woman with an unfamiliar face sat in the middle of a circular reception desk made of dark wood. She looked up when Rena entered.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Rena Richardson. I’m here to see my father-in-law.”

  The woman’s eyes grew big. “Of course, Ms. Richardson. Shall I let him know you’re here, or do you want to go directly to his office?”

  “I’ll go myself. Is Jeffrey here?”

  “No. He’s out of town today.”

  The second floor could be reached by either a winding staircase or an elevator. Rena walked up the staircase. Jeffrey and Baxter had offices at one end of the floor. Ezra’s suite occupied the opposite end. In between were many smaller offices of the middle-management personnel who kept the wheels of the business well-oiled and turning out a profit. As she passed several closed doors, Rena wondered how many of the employees knew the real source of the company’s recent prosperity.

  Thick, dark-green carpeting covered the hallway. The first time Rena visited the office, she took off her shoes and let her toes enjoy the luxuriance, so different from the crude floor covering in her bedroom in Nichol’s Gap.

  A set of wooden double doors led to Ezra’s area. Rena pushed open one door and peeked inside. Ezra’s secretary, an attractive woman in her midthirties, looked up from her desk and waved Rena inside.

  “Come in,” she said. “Mr. Richardson is expecting you.”

  Two walls constructed of glass panels boasted beautiful views. Her father-in-law’s massive desk sat in the center of the room, and a comfortable seating area filled the left. Ezra was nowhere in sight. Rena stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and waited. In a moment, one of several doors in the opposite wall opened, and Ezra motioned for her to join him. She joined him in a small, windowless room with a table surrounded by four chairs and dark paneling. There was a small TV in a corner as well as a computer terminal and a telephone. Ezra closed the door and turned a lock.