Deeper Water

by Robert Whitlow

  I'd already thought out an efficient way to summarize my activities. When I mentioned interviewing Moses Jones, Mama interrupted me. "You met with a criminal alone?"

  "Yes ma'am. But it took place in an interview room at the jail with deputies everywhere."

  "That part of being a lawyer has always worried me. Be careful."

  "Yes ma'am." I took a deep breath. "And I've enjoyed getting to know most of the people I'm working with. One of the associate lawyers is a serious Christian. He's supervising my work in the criminal case."

  "Then he should be with you when you meet with this man. Don't be shy in insisting that he come along."

  "I won't. He's already told me that he wants to be there at the next meeting with the client."

  "Good. How is Mrs. Fairmont's health? Your father and I have been praying for her."

  I told Mama about the rough night and how God helped me. When I described the time of singing and prayer, she interrupted. "Amen! The Spirit is all over what you're doing at that house. To me, it's a thousand times more important than any work at a law firm. I'll mention it in our Sunday school class. Once Gladys McFarland hears about the need, you know she'll pray."

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Are you going to a church in the morning?"

  "No. The Christian lawyer mentioned a home group he attends. I may visit, but not tomorrow."

  "Be careful, but you've learned how to discern truth and error."

  "Yes ma'am. And the lawyer also asked permission to get to know me better."

  I stopped. The news was out. I waited.

  "Did you say something?" Mama asked. "The phone went dead."

  "Yes ma'am. The Christian lawyer wants to get to know me better."

  "Isn't that why they offered you a summer job in the first place? That shouldn't be too hard if you're working on a case together."

  I spoke rapidly. "Yes ma'am, but he meant on a personal level. He has a homeschool background all the way through high school. We have a lot in common."

  There was silence. This time, I knew why.

  "How old is he?" Mama asked in a measured tone of voice.

  "I'm not sure, but he's only been practicing law for three years. He's probably twenty-seven or twenty-eight."

  "So you don't know much about him."

  "He's from California and very polite. He's smart and a hard worker. The senior partner he works for has a lot of confidence in him. This week he was working on an important case involving a company in Norway."

  Mama ignored the data. "Tell me exactly what he said to you."

  "That he would like to get to know me on a personal level. I told him I would need to talk to you and Daddy, and he thought that was a great idea. I've never met anyone like him. He understands my convictions and doesn't criticize me."

  "How could he know that much about your beliefs? You've only been in Savannah a few days."

  "It seems longer than that to me. Zach and I have discussed things at work and spent time together." I stopped. Mention of the motorcycle ride to Tybee Island at this point would kill all prospects. "We talked this morning. He came by the house, and we sat on the back porch with Mrs. Fairmont and had a great time."

  Slightly breathless, I stopped and waited.

  Mama spoke calmly yet firmly. "I'm sure your father and I would want to meet this young man before agreeing to anything. If he's as spiritually mature as you say, he shouldn't have any problem with that approach."

  It was a predictable response. But as I'd presented my brief case, I'd realized how badly I wanted Mama to give me the okay. Parental approval of a budding romance was a safeguard against the anguish and heartache caused by aborted attempts to find the right soul mate. Mama said the serial dating practiced by most girls was often nothing more than preparation for multiple divorces.

  "Yes ma'am. Talk to Daddy, and I'll keep my interaction with Zach strictly business."

  "And remember that our home is open if you want to bring him here for a visit. You're mature enough to get married. It's just a question of letting God find your mate."

  I raised my eyebrows. "You really think I'm ready for marriage?"

  "Yes, but the timing should be in the Lord's hands. How many times have we prayed for your husband without knowing his name?"

  "Hundreds, ever since I was a little girl."

  "We want you to have your own home and family. I'm not the perfect wife and mother, but I hope I've given you a good example."

  "Yes ma'am."

  "I miss you most as a daughter, but also as a worker." Mama chuckled. "You'd think I would get twice the help from Emma and Ellie, but I think, with them, the help is divided rather than multiplied."

  Mama's lighthearted comments encouraged me.

  "Tell me about your week," I said.

  Listening to Mama felt good and bad. It was good to hear about home, bad to face again the ache of separation from my family.

  "Tammy Lynn," she said when the conversation was coming to an end, "thanks so much for telling me about your conversation with Zach."

  Hearing Mama speak his name startled me.

  "We trust you," she continued. "Which is one of the greatest gifts a child can give to a parent."

  I felt a stab of guilt because I'd not told the whole truth. I quickly searched my heart for a way to provide additional information.

  "We love you," Mama said. "Bye."

  The call ended. I stared for a few seconds at the phone receiver in my hand. Even if I didn't tell Mama the whole truth, I could still honor her wishes.

  MONDAY MORNING, I arrived early at the office and went directly to the library. I already felt more comfortable in my surroundings. A few minutes later, Julie and Vince, their faces reflecting the red of a glorious sunset, came in together.

  "I don't have as much Middle Eastern blood in my veins as I thought," Julie said. "And Vinny is a pure Caucasian."

  "Did you go to Tybee Island?" I asked.

  "No," Vince replied. "Ned Danforth invited Julie to spend the day on his boat, and she brought me along."

  "As my bodyguard," Julie added. "I could tell Ned was miffed when we drove up to the marina together, but I pointed out that it was an opportunity to get to know both of us at the same time. Ned and Vinny ended up spending a lot of the time fiddling with the navigation system while I served as a hood ornament."

  "I think you were a bow ornament," Vince corrected. "We were on a boat."

  Julie looked at Vince in surprise. "Did the sun shining on your head give you a sense of humor? Either way, you ignored me by asking question after question about Tami."

  Vince's expression changed, but he was so sunburned that I couldn't tell if Julie's comment embarrassed him or not. She continued. "Summer clerks have to stick together, and you two should go to lunch today and satisfy your mutual curiosity."

  Before I could deny curiosity, Vince gave me a hopeful look that stopped my words in their tracks.

  "I'd like that," he said. "Are you available?"

  "I'm not sure," I answered. "I haven't checked with Mr. Carpenter."

  "Be here at noon," Julie said to Vince.

  After Vince left, Julie sat across the table from me. "I owe you an apology," she said.

  "Why?"

  "For giving you such a hard time about not putting on a bathing suit so you could meet men. Friday night I get a predatory call from Ned Danforth. At least, I could tell what he had in mind and convinced Vinny to ruin the party. You might not have been savvy enough to see it coming. Anyway, after we spent four pleasant hours sailing along the coastline, I thought I might have been paranoid. But then while Vinny was below deck with his nose stuck in an onboard software program, Ned came up to the bow and made a comment I couldn't ignore. I had to put him in his place like a ninth grader. It was awkward for both of us. He immediately turned the boat around. The sail back to port seemed twice as long as the ride out. Ned spent the rest of the trip hanging out with Vinny, and I got cooked because I didn't want
to join them. Fraternization between associates and summer clerks is so unprofessional." Julie looked down at the paperwork in front of her. "What did you do this weekend besides read the Bible and pray?"

  "Fraternized with one of the male associates."

  Julie's mouth dropped open. "Get out."

  "Yeah, one of the attorneys and I went to Tybee Island."

  "Who?"

  "Zach Mays, but don't get the wrong idea," I added. "It was nothing like your boat cruise with Ned. He had me back to Mrs. Fairmont's house before noon so he could come to the office and work."

  "I didn't peg you as a pathological liar, but that makes no sense. Tell me straight what happened."

  I pointed to the books open on the table in front of me. "Don't you think we should get to work?"

  "No!"

  Julie sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. It took twice as long as it should have to tell her about the motorcycle ride because she constantly interrupted.

  "I'm just trying to make sure you're not holding back. So when did he talk to you about the homeschooling thing?"

  "Weeks ago."

  "How is that possible if you didn't interview in person for a summer job?"

  "Let me finish telling you about Saturday before you drag up another example of fraternization."

  Julie shook her head. "Maybe you're not as uptight as I thought."

  "No, I'm more uptight than you can imagine, but it feels right to me." I finished as quickly as I could. I left out the entire discussion about asking my parents' permission to get to know Zach on a personal level.

  "I had no idea the two of you had something brewing so fast," Julie said thoughtfully. "He doesn't look religious, and the motorcycle deal doesn't fit the stereotype. I just hope he didn't come up with a strategy to seduce you after the first meeting."

  It was such a brusque comment that it shocked me.

  "He's not a Ned Danforth. I would be able to see through that in a second."

  "Maybe." Julie paused. "But where does this leave poor Vinny? I had him all psyched up about what a great girl you are."

  "I thought he asked you question after question."

  "Maybe one, but I felt so rotten about the way I talked to you on Friday that I tried to make it up by praising you to him. Now, he's going to find out that he's a lap down before the race even starts."

  I studied Julie carefully for a moment. "Did you make him think I was interested in him?"

  "Uh, no. Except that like a good Christian you love all people equally, no matter their age, race, gender, or hair color."

  "That's how you put it? It sounds like a sentence from the federal antidiscrimination laws."

  "In so many words or less."

  "Maybe I'll get the truth from Vince at lunch."

  Julie held up her hands. "Just leave me out of it. I need a social director more than you do."

  18

  MIDMORNING, MYRA DEAN CAME INTO THE LIBRARY AND summoned Julie to a meeting with a prospective client in the main conference room.

  "Bring a blank legal pad and a pen," Myra said. "You won't say anything. Mr. Carpenter wants you to take notes while he conducts the interview. It's a new client who is the money guy behind a huge real-estate deal that is heading toward litigation. He's checking us out, and Mr. Carpenter will be putting on a full-court press to get the business. Rich clients like to know they have a bigger army of lawyers and staff than the people on the other side."

  "Will I be the only person taking notes?" Julie asked. "Vince is so quick on the computer. I might miss something important."

  "No," Myra replied. "I'll be there too. You're my backup."

  After they left the library I stood up to stretch and take a break. Julie's tough exterior was showing cracks. While in college, I'd led several girls to faith in Christ. Some of them came from religious backgrounds. Others were crying out for help from a pit of sinful despair. But I'd never had the chance to pray with a Jewish person. There was a buzz on the phone extension located in the library and a female voice spoke into the room.

  "Tami Taylor, please pick up on line 127."

  I pushed the three buttons. "Hello," I said.

  "It's Zach. Can you take a break?"

  "That's what I'm doing right now."

  "Good. Come to my office."

  The phone clicked off without giving me a chance to reply. Zach was definitely more abrupt in his conversations at the office during the week than on Saturday at the beach.

  Upstairs, people were walking back and forth carrying papers, folders, and documents. Everyone was busy and no one paid any attention to me. I walked down the hallway to Zach's door and knocked.

  "Come in," he called out.

  I opened the door and peeked in. Zach was on the phone with his hand over the mouthpiece. He motioned for me to sit down.

  "I understand," he said, removing his hand, "but I haven't had a chance to talk to our client. The judge isn't going to make me go to trial a couple of weeks after he assigned the case to our firm."

  Zach listened for a moment. "Just because the jail log shows that Tami was there early last week doesn't constitute effective assistance of counsel. We haven't filed the standard pretrial motions or learned the names and addresses of any of your witnesses."

  There was another pause.

  "Yes, it will help if you open your file and allow us to review everything you have, but that's just the beginning. We'll need to do our own investigation." Zach turned toward his computer. "Yes, I'm available tomorrow afternoon, but I need to check with Tami to confirm her schedule. The main reason Judge Cannon assigned the case to our office is so she could gain courtroom experience, even if it's limited to preliminary matters."

  Zach pushed a button and changed the computer screen from a calendar to his mailbox.

  "Right," he said. "I appreciate the pressure you're under. We'll consider the offer and discuss it with Mr. Jones."

  Zach hung up the phone. "Good morning," he said.

  "I'm not sure," I replied. "That conversation didn't sound like a good way to start the day or the week."

  "Don't worry; we'll sort through it in a minute. Did you talk to your parents?"

  "Uh, just my mother." I tried to put a hopeful look on my face. "I told her how nice you've been to me and that we had a lot in common. I mentioned your homeschool background and that you're well respected in the firm." I stopped. "It's very awkward repeating this to you."

  "I'm not trying to embarrass you. I respect you."

  "I told her that too." I sighed. "She's going to talk to my father, but she thinks we shouldn't take any steps toward a personal relationship until they have a chance to meet you."

  "Did you make it sound more serious than I intended?"

  I stared at Zach for a second, not sure whether to cry or run out of the room. My face must have revealed my feelings.

  "No, that was wrong," he added. "Can you forget that last sentence and back up to the part about me respecting you?"

  "I'll try."

  "Thanks. Would it be okay for me to talk to them?"

  "I wondered about that," I admitted. "But not until I hear from my father. I don't want to manipulate them."

  "Of course, they taught you to appeal to authority, not rebel against it."

  "Exactly," I replied in surprise.

  "It's good training for becoming a lawyer. Including the case of State v. Moses Jones," Zach replied, tapping a folder on his desk. "That was Ms. Smith, the assistant DA. Her call was routed to me instead of you. The bottom line is that she wants to fast-track State v. Jones and bump it up the trial calendar. Several of the complaining homeowners are going to leave town for the summer and don't want to be held hostage as witnesses for a trial. I guess they have homes in the mountains so they can escape the malaria on the coast."

  "Malaria? Are you serious?"

  "A hundred years ago, it was a big problem."

  "Whether a few people are here or not shouldn't m
atter," I said. "There are twenty-four counts. It would still be a minority."

  Zach flipped open the folder on his desk. "How closely did you read the charges?"

  "What did I miss?"

  Zach ran his finger down the sheets of paper in front of him while I fidgeted.

  "There are twenty-four counts but only five different physical locations," he said after a minute. "Think about it. Jones was looking for a convenient hookup for his boat, not a change in scenery. He wouldn't have sought out a different dock every night."

  "I missed that."

  "And I'm no criminal law expert, but the first rule of an admiralty case is to carefully read the documents. It's the same for any area of the law. Check out the paperwork."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Just learn the lesson."

  "What did Ms. Smith say about a plea bargain?"

  "I'm getting to that. A few of the rich folks on the river want Jones removed from polite society. Each count carries a sentence of up to twelve months plus a one-thousand-dollar fine. If you laid those end to end, Moses Jones could be in jail the rest of his life."

  My jaw dropped.

  "But no judge would lock him up and throw away the key," Zach added. "The DAs initial offer is six months in jail followed by three years on probation with no monetary fine."

  I thought about Moses sitting in the interview room breathing through his few remaining teeth. In spite of my mother's fears, he didn't seem to be a huge threat to society.

  "That sounds harsh. I mean, he didn't steal or damage anything."

  "And that's her first offer. You can make a counterproposal."

  "Me?"

  "Remember, it's your case. I'll help, just like I promised. However, we need to meet with him as soon as possible. The case is set for Judge Cannon's arraignment calendar tomorrow afternoon. If we work out a deal, it could all be taken care of at that time."

  I took a deep breath. "That sounds great."

  Zach glanced at a clock on the corner of his desk. "We can run over to the jail, discuss options with the client, and grab a late lunch on the way back. All in the context of business."