by Joanne Pence
She heard the sarcasm in his voice, but she also saw the cautious hope in his eyes. He had learned over the years, as she had, how to protect himself. She debated her answer. Tell him straight? Make jokes? Or simply lie like hell? This was no joking matter, and she never was any good at lying.
She took a deep breath. "I thought you could use some moral support tomorrow."
Carefully, he placed the soda can on the table. Without looking at her, he walked to the pool and stared down at the water.
She sat forward, her hands clasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought, perhaps, you'd like...I mean, I wanted to do more than talk to you on the phone. I wanted to be here. To help, if I could, in any way."
He kept his head bowed.
She stood. "I'm sorry, Tony," she whispered. "Perhaps I shouldn't have intruded. I just wanted..." I wanted to be with you. Didn't he want her there? Had she misread him so completely? She watched him, hoping. When he didn't speak, didn't face her, with a shake of her head she turned and hurried toward her car.
"Wait," he called, running after her. She stopped and he spun her around, his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were soft then, loving, yet his face was pinched and filled with worry. His strong, blunt, man's fingers gently touched her jaw as if not quite believing she was real, and that she had come here to be with him. He brushed back a strand of hair caught by a slight breeze and blowing toward her mouth. "It'll be ugly, Lisa. You don't know her. Her tongue's sharp, and she'll use it on me. If you're there, you might get caught in the cross fire."
She held his waist. "I've been attacked by experts. I’m not worried. If you'd like me there, I want to be with you."
"Are you sure?" He seemed to hold his breath awaiting her reply.
"Listen, Santos, I just flew three thousand miles to be with you and you ask me if--"
She couldn't say any more because his mouth pressed hungrily against hers. His arms slipped around her back, pulling her closer, as hers went around his ribcage, holding him tight.
His hands traveled down her back, over her hips, then to her breasts, as if they were trying to remember all they had learned those months ago, as if trying to convince himself that she really had returned.
"Tony," she murmured, "Tony," and raised a hand to his neck, feeling the damp strands of hair. He smelled like strong soap and sunshine and engine oil, and where she touched him, his body held the heat of the day and of his labors. He spanned her ribs with his large, warm hands, then higher. He kissed her ears, her neck, as she ran both hands into his hair, clutched it with her fingers, messing it even more than it already was. He drew back and straightened, looking down at her, trying to regain some control. Slowly, she moved closer, her eyes never leaving his, giving no doubt what she wanted.
He led her back to the house, up the stairs and in a moment he was lying beside her on his bed wearing nothing but his crucifix, and she wore even less. The half shut blinds in his bedroom allowed in slats of golden sunshine that cast an amber glow over the room. She didn't shut her eyes. All she wanted to do was to look at him, and see that they were together once more.
They made love quickly, desperately, their bodies aching and ready, as if sharing a mutual fear that if they didn't seize the moment, it would be gone and they would have to part again.
Even when their love making was over, and their breathing drifted back to normal, they continued to keep their arms around each other, to hold, to touch.
It was the first time they'd made love in daylight, and she marveled at the beauty of his body, the tawny color of his skin, the firm, muscular strength of him. She ran her fingers over his face, the face she knew as well as her own, bringing back memories of the fifteen-year-old's face she'd touched so long ago. He was even handsomer now, his face more interesting in its maturity--the lines, the toughening, the wisdom and the sadness that came with living, feeling, loving.
Her hands lingered over his shoulders, his chest, his hips. "You've grown so handsome, Tony," she said. "And I've only grown more bony."
He trailed kisses down her neck to her breast. "You're a bony old hag, all right. But I wouldn't throw you out of bed for eating crackers."
"Tony, I'm serious!"
"I know. You're also beautiful. And too thin. Don't they feed you in New York?"
"Nothing worth eating. There's not a Big Bob's in the whole city," she said with a weighty sigh.
He lifted himself onto his elbow and stroked her hair back from her face, his eyes drinking in every feature. "God, I'm glad you're here. Thank you."
She shut her eyes a moment and swallowed until she was sure her voice wouldn't quiver. "Good," she whispered, then lifted her hand to his neck and pulled him down to her once more.
Chapter 22
The next morning, Lee was up at six. She puttered around the house, looking at the homey touches Miriam had added indoors and the beautiful garden she was creating in the yard. Miriam joined her soon after, and they sat and talked, mainly about Tony, but also a bit about Gene, until it was time for Lee to get ready to go.
She pinned her hair into a loose chignon and wore a navy blue double-breasted suit with a red trim, conservative yet smart. Navy blue shoes with three-tiny red buttons, a small navy clutch bag, and gold earrings completed the outfit.
Lee drove alone to the county courthouse. At ten o'clock the night before, she'd gone home to give Tony time to collect his thoughts and try to get a good night's sleep. Since he'd be driving Vic, she suggested it would be best for her to meet them there. Ben would be sent to school and afterward, if Tony weren’t back from court when school let out, the ranch hands would watch him. Tony didn't want Ben anywhere near the courtroom proceedings.
As Lee pulled into the parking space she saw Vic and Tony walking toward the entrance to the Hall of Justice building. Vic wore a suit that was a little too snug. He looked like a raging bull itching for a fight. Tony, in a dark gray pinstripe suit, looked handsome despite his deep, worried frown. His skin was sallow, dark circles cut deep under his eyes, and she wondered if he had been able to sleep at all last night.
She sat a moment watching him, her hands clasped tight. "Don't let him lose his son, God," she thought. "Please, don't let him lose his son." For a woman who never had time to pray, she was doing a lot of it these days.
After a while, she picked up her purse, tucked it under her arm and went inside.
She found the two men in the waiting area outside the courtroom. Vic nodded at her and went back to his pacing. She caught Tony's eye. He stood as she approached, then clasped her hand. He continued to hold it tightly as they sat down on the bench to wait.
Tony's attorney walked up to him. "It's time," he said.
She squeezed Tony's hand a moment before letting it go. His gaze held hers, no words spoken, then he went forward with the attorney. She followed Vic to a seat in the back of the courtroom.
The courtroom door opened again, and one of the most beautiful women Lee had ever seen entered the room.
Vic nudged her arm. "Catherine," he murmured, nodding toward the newcomer.
Lee blanched. Catherine Durelle was about thirty, but looked younger. Tall and statuesque, she had silky blond hair, combed back from her face to fall sleek and shiny to her waist. Her skin was the golden tan of the southern California beaches, and her eyes a blazing, brilliant blue. She wore little make up. Her white dress hung in a simple, straight line from her shoulders to her knees, caught at her waist by a woven belt. Everything about her cried out purity and the American dream. Lee died a little inside.
But at the same time, she could see how much Catherine might have resembled her back in the days when she was younger, when she was Lisa Marie--the same coloring, the same body type, the healthy California looks she had before she learned how to enhance and accentuate the classic and more delicate look she used for television.
A few steps behind Catherine walked a short, heavy set man, with brown hair that had been permed and knitted t
o cover a thinning top. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses and a black suit. Lee assumed he was Catherine's attorney until she saw the man take a seat behind her in the visitors' area, and pat her shoulder. The infamously impotent Dr. Durelle, she thought.
A stylish, middle aged woman approached the Durelles Catherine's attorney. After a few whispered words with the doctor, she joined her client.
Lee's stomach knotted. She'd fantasized that Catherine would come storming in looking like a low class Hollywood tart, wearing a striped tee shirt, a red miniskirt and black lace nylons. The judge would take one look at her and throw her and her case out the door.
Inside, she'd known Tony wouldn't have married someone like that. She also knew Catherine couldn't be half as sweet as the role she played. Sweet, pure people don't hire private eyes to dig up dirt on ex-spouses. But then, custody battles were often the nastiest and cruelest of court cases, and even normally gentle people turned cunning and crafty over them.
A female lawyer was inspired. Who could argue with more feeling for a mother's rights than another woman? Lee could see why Tony had been so fearful of this confrontation.
The plaintiff, Catherine, was the first one called to the stand.
After the routine questions to establish who she was, her attorney went straight to the heart of the matter. "Please explain to the court why you're here, today, requesting joint custody of your son."
She took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was throaty and quivering with emotion. "I'm here because I miss my child. When he was born I was young, too young, to understand or appreciate the gift of life that he was. Now, I'm older, more mature. I love him. Without him, there's a terrible void in my life...in my heart." She glanced at the judge then dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
Lee knew the woman was playing up her act for the judge, yet she couldn’t help but suspect that some of Catherine’s words were true. She had been too young. Tony wasn’t an innocent in this, but Catherine had walked out on her son, and Tony had given the boy a home.
"Why do you believe you can care for your child at this time?"
Catherine cleared her throat. "Because I have a wonderful husband and a large home in Beverly Hills. It has five bedrooms and I've already prepared one for Benjamin. My husband makes a good living as a surgeon and I don't work, so I could be home with my son whenever he needs me."
"Thank you, Mrs. Durelle. Please describe to the court your attempts to have your son visit you."
"I asked Tony, that is, my ex, Mr. Santos, to let Ben come and visit me for a while but he said no. I knew I had to get Ben because Tony's an unfit father."
"Objection!" Tony's attorney stood. "That's a conclusion of the witness."
"Sustained."
"You've used the word 'unfit.' Do you wish to prove to the court that Mr. Santos is an unfit father?"
"I didn't want to hurt Tony's reputation. I'm not after vengeance against him for keeping me away from my son. All I want is my little boy back." She began to cry silently. "I'm only asking for what's fair. For joint custody so that my little Benjamin can come and live with me sometimes, too. So I’ll have some say in the upbringing of my son. I’m his mother, and I love him and miss him so much." She turned to the judge. "I’m his mother," she pleaded.
Lee felt her stomach churn sickly at Catherine’s words--they sounded sincere, even fair.
"Are you concerned about Ben's upbringing now?" The attorney continued.
"Well, I hired an investigator to check up on Tony. I found out he has lots of women going through his house. He doesn't work. He made a lot of money as a ball player and blew it buying a fancy house and some fancy horses, but he didn't save anything for our son. I've heard of Ben going to school with holes in his jeans and holes in his Nikes. Tony drinks too much, too--and so does his father! There are a bunch of other men living there too, and they throw wild parties--I hate to imagine what that boy has seen at those parties!"
"Your honor," Tony's lawyer protested. "Your honor, I am shocked and dismayed by my colleague, leading this witness to make unfounded allegations and wild conjecture against my client. She wasn't there, she hasn't been in my client's house, and she certainly hasn't attended a party with him. And I ask the court, what healthy nine year old doesn't wear holes in his jeans and his tennis shoes?"
Catherine's attorney stepped toward the bench. "Would your Honor please ask my learned colleague to wait until it's his turn to question the witness before he launches into his argument?"
The judge harumphed and turned to Catherine. She smiled up at him. He smiled back. "Was any of what you just said learned from your own observation?"
"No, your honor, from the investigator's report. But I remember when we were married, that Tony used to drink, and swear, and women were always hanging around him."
Her attorney spoke. "Are you saying he was unfaithful while you were married?"
Catherine raised her eyebrows and looked at her lawyer as if she had to be joking, "To me? No, I couldn't say that."
The attorney turned to the judge. "I believe, Your Honor, we have some proof here, today, of the kind of high living Mr. Santos has been doing. Would you care to elaborate, Mrs. Durelle?"
"Yes. We all know about movie stars and TV stars, and how they always use drugs and alcohol and bad language. Well, my investigator learned that Lee Reynolds, the news anchor on CABN-TV was having an affair with Tony a few months ago, and now I see that she’s back. I recognize her from TV--she’s in the back of the courtroom."
"I object most vehemently, Your Honor!" Tony's attorney shouted over the buzz of voices that filled the courtroom as all eyes but those of Tony and his attorney turned toward Lee. "These are inadmissible generalizations and this witness's comments border on slander."
Lee’s body went rigid. Her fingers gripping the edge of the bench on which she sat. Her head felt light, swimming from Catherine’s vitriol.
"Objection sustained," the judge bellowed.
"No further questions, Your Honor."
Lee let out the breath she'd been holding.
Tony's attorney rose to cross examine Catherine.
"Is it true, Mrs. Durelle, that you abandoned your son when he was only one year old?"
"I didn't abandon him. I left Tony, but I wanted my son. Instead of letting me have him, Tony gave Ben to his father to raise."
"You left a year old baby with a man who was playing baseball and traveling for six months out of every year and you're surprised that he asked his father to help care for the child?"
"I told him I wanted Ben!"
"Why didn't you take your son with you to begin with?"
"I didn't know where I was going or how I'd get along."
"Does the name Dwayne Davis mean anything to you?"
"No!"
"How about Lefty Davis, then? Does that refresh your memory?"
"Oh. He might be someone I've heard of on some baseball team."
"You should have. He was a big star in the miners, on your ex husband's team in fact."
"Objection!" Catherine's attorney snapped. "This has no relevance to this case."
"I’ll show that it does, Your Honor," Tony's attorney replied.
"Overruled."
Tony's attorney tugged at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves as he turned his attention back to Catherine. "Is it not true that you couldn't take your child with you because you left Phoenix to follow Lefty Davis when he was sent to the major leagues?"
"No, it isn't."
"Do you know what perjury is, Mrs. Durelle?"
"Well, I didn't follow him! I left Tony and I heard Lefty was in the town I was going to, so I asked if I could stay with him until I got settled, that's all. It was no more than that. We were just friends."
"And once you got settled, why didn't you send for your son?"
"I tried. But Tony wouldn't let me have him."
"Are you saying Lefty Davis had such a large place he was willing to let you and your baby stay with hi
m?"
"No. It was later."
"What was later?"
"Later. When I was on my own again. That's when I asked to take Ben."
"How much later?"
"I don't remember."
"A month? A year? Nine years?"
"Objection! She already stated she doesn't remember."
"Sustained."
Tony's attorney stroked his chin. "Well, given this unspecified amount of time, how did you expect Mr. Santos to care for his child at the same time as he was trying to build a baseball career--a career that requires travel and mobility?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"You hadn't thought!" Sarcasm dripped from his voice. Catherine bristled.
"What do I care? Tony wasn't my problem."
"What was your problem, then?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You leave your infant child and you have no problem? Now, that's a loving mother!"
"Objection! Conclusion of council and improper line of questioning."
"Sustained."
"As I understand it, Mrs. Durelle, since you and Mr. Durelle cannot have children of your own, you've decided to take back the child you abandoned. In other words, he means nothing to you except as a substitute for other children you cannot have. Is that correct?"
"Not at all! He's my son and I have every right to have him live with me."
"Didn't you give up that right when you walked out on him?"
"No!"
"Objection! Conclusion of council!"
"Sustained. Strike the witness’s answer."
"You abandoned your son," Tony’s attorney said.
"I left Tony. It's his fault." The judge pounded his gavel, but Catherine wouldn't stop. "He was no good. A lousy husband. Lousy in everything!"
"Your Honor!" Catherine’s attorney was on her feet.
"Mrs. Durelle," the judge roared, "please limit your response to the questions posed. And I direct counsel to keep refrain from inflammatory remarks and keep to the semblance, at least, of questions in this courtroom."
"Yes, your honor." Tony's attorney faced Catherine again and took a deep breath. "So, Mrs. Durelle, let me get this straight. Will you explain to the court why you left your baby with this supposedly terrible man?"
