Chapter 19 #2
I dropped my fork, appetite officially lost. I needed to just tell my sister I wasn’t doing it, that it was insanity she’d even asked me. A new text rolled onto the screen.
Laura: Stop trying to come up with ways to tell me you aren’t doing it and just do it.
Swearing under my breath, I picked up the phone and called her.
“Stop harassing me,” I said when she answered.
“The preliminary hearing is Monday,” Laura said, crunching on something in my ear.
“Are you eating chips?”
“You know I snack when I’m stressed, and you’re stressing me out.”
“Me? How the hell do you think I feel?”
Laura sighed. “Gigi, I get that I’ve had more time to work through all this, and I get that it’s unfair of me to dump you in the middle of it. But I need you. You’ve asked me a thousand times since the accident what I need. I need this.”
Fuck. The problem with coming from a close-knit family was that every member knew exactly what buttons to push to make you do things you didn’t want to do.
“Miller was the most forgiving person on the planet. He’s not sitting around in the afterlife plotting vengeance. He would want you to do this.”
“Low blow, Larry.”
“Yeah, well, that should tell you how much I want this. It may not feel like it at the moment to you, but this is the right thing to do.”
“I’m swamped with work,” I said, trying a different tack.
“Too busy to keep a mom out of prison? Too busy to keep a family together? Too busy to make sure one mistake doesn’t ruin a woman’s life? Wow, man. Your priorities really have changed.”
“You’re the worst sister in the history of sisters.”
“What’s that? I can’t hear your insults over the noise of my wheelchair.”
“That’s not the thing to guilt me with right now,” I warned her.
“Sorry. Force of habit.”
She didn’t sound sorry at all.
“You always said you’d do anything for family. Please do this for me, Gage.”
It was still raining, and I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I knocked on the door of Unit B, the middle brown brick town house. The exteriors were dated but tidy, and there were kids’ toys in each postage stamp–size front yard.
I heard footsteps approaching, a pause, and then the slide of a dead bolt. Valerie opened the door and looked at me nervously. “My kids are home,” she said, shooting a glance over her shoulder.
I didn’t know if she was more concerned about her daughters hearing the details of what she’d done or the possibility that I’d behave the way I had in my office.
“We can talk out here if you feel more comfortable,” I offered.
“I just caught the little one with craft scissors, running for the bathroom, so I’d feel better if I could keep my eye on them.” She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She led the way into a cramped living room where a large couch and a mound of toys vied for floor space. Her daughters, curly-haired carbon copies of their mother, were engaged in some sort of block building battle. There was more throwing than building happening.
“Can I get you something to drink? I have water, juice boxes, and milk,” she said, gesturing toward the small kitchen that opened into the living room via a pass-through.
“I’m fine.”
“We can talk in there. You can sit and I can make sure they’re not cutting each other’s bangs again,” Valerie said loudly.
“Sorry, Mommy,” the oldest girl said, looking not the least bit apologetic.
“Yeah, sowwy, Momma,” parroted the youngest. “I have snack?”
“In a few minutes. I’m going to talk to Mr. Gage in the kitchen,” Valerie promised. “Come on in.”
The kitchen was even smaller than it had looked from the living room.
The green linoleum had to be original. The cabinets were builder grade, and the countertops were an ancient yellowed Formica, but the surfaces were clean, and the white refrigerator door was plastered with photos and drawings.
There were no photos of Valerie and her husband.
She poured a glass of water out of the tap and set it in front of me, then winced. “I’m sorry. You said you didn’t want anything. I’m nervous. We probably should have done this over email.”
“Done what?” I pointed to the chair opposite me at the tiny round table.
“You telling me what you’re about to tell me,” she said, sinking into the seat.
Twin peals of girlie giggles erupted from the living room.
Valerie closed her eyes. “I love that sound so much. I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t hear it anymore.”
“Is your husband here?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s at home. His home. Our former home. We split up last year. We share custody of the girls.”
I’d forgotten that. Or had I brought it up to wound her?
“I didn’t realize you’d gotten divorced,” I said and hoped it wasn’t a lie.
“We’re not officially divorced. Separated. Things were…tough after the accident. I was in a dark place, and I had to leave my job at the hospital. I kept freezing when I saw blood. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t function. Eventually my husb—the girls’ father asked for a divorce.”
She said this to the top of the table, where she was tracing an old stain with her finger.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was a reflexive platitude, and I could tell that it hadn’t carried any genuine emotion with it when she flinched.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m working at an assisted living facility now. It’s not what I was doing before, and the pay is, well, kind of terrible. But we share fifty-fifty custody.”
I didn’t know why she was telling me all this. I didn’t want to know about her personal life. It was easier to think of her as some distant, faceless criminal than an actual person. Which, most likely, had been Laura’s point all along.
I took a breath and reached into my briefcase, producing a legal pad. “It’s easier to discuss your case in person, Valerie.”
She blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you.”
I cleared my throat. “Regardless of my personal feelings, my sister asked me to do this. And I would do anything for her. Anything.”
She nodded meekly. “I understand.”
“And that anything currently involves representing you.”
She swallowed hard. “I–I don’t have much money for a retainer, but I can get a loan. My parents—”
I shook my head. “This is a personal favor for my sister. Which means I won’t be charging you. But I will be holding this over her head for the next decade or so.”
“Th-thank you,” Valerie squeaked, pressing the white knuckles of her hand to her mouth.
“Look, Valerie. It’s important to me that you know that while the personal aspects of your case aren’t going to be easy for me, I am legally bound to provide you with the best defense possible.”
Tears slid down her face, but instead of yesterday’s despair, I saw something else in her brown eyes. Hope. “I can’t believe you’re willing to do this. I don’t deserve your help.”
“Let’s let the court decide the deserving part.”
Valerie’s oldest skipped into the kitchen with a front-toothless smile and her hands behind her back, her little sister on her heels. “Mr. Gage, I made you a present!” Molly announced, whipping out a crayon drawing of God knows what and presenting it to me.
“Wow, Molly, this is really…something. Did you draw this just now?”
“Yep. I’m a good drawer,” she said with the confidence of a well-loved kid.
“It’s amazing. Thank you. What’s this part over here?” I asked, pointing to a pink scribble.
“That’s a dragon spider. See all its legs? Then those are the wings, and this is the fire,” she explained.
“Momma sad?” Tilly asked, laying a sticky hand on Valerie’s arm.
“No, baby. Momma’s happy,” Valerie promised.
“Good. Snack now?” Tilly asked.
Valerie managed a laugh. “All right. Snacks for everyone.”
“Mr. Gage too?” Molly clarified.
“Mr. Gage too.”