Chapter XII #2
Mae jotted down the main parts of Winona’s account, nodding from time to time.
As she looked up, the woman's beseeching gaze left her momentarily frozen. She couldn’t say that it was not probable that she would see her child again.
That the courts ran like a fine-oiled machine and pounced on intentional and unintentional neglect with the same fervor.
Instead, she murmured, “Well, now that we have a bit more information, I will bring it to my husband for his opinion. Perhaps there are some procedural inconsistencies that he can exploit to bring her back into your custody.”
Winona’s face went blank as Mae explained.
Her eyebrows formed a line of soft brown that divided her face into two uneven halves.
As she opened her mouth to speak, the door opened again, and Mrs. Bonham appeared.
Mae noted the more relaxed manner of the woman as she made her way to the exit, thanking Henry profusely.
After the office door closed, Henry turned his focus to Mae and Winona.
Mae stood and came around the desk to stand next to Henry, handing him the note-filled papers she had recorded.
“This is Winona Kerr,” she gestured toward the blonde.
“Her child was removed for negligence after she left her daughter in her neighbor’s care.
The child suffered a kettle burn, and the hospital transferred her to the custody of the state due to her absence.
The commitment papers list the parent as unknown—but Mrs. Kerr presented herself at Bellevue the same day.
There may be a notice defect." She handed him the notes.
“These are some of the details that she has provided.”
Henry scanned over the notes and then nodded toward Winona, “Mrs. Kerr, won’t you come in?” He gestured toward his office and allowed her to enter before him.
Mae settled back down in her chair and felt her skin prickle as she saw the ledger peeking out from under the mound of case files on her desk.
Another month of barely making the bills.
She picked up the first case file. Mae could hear Henry’s low, reassuring voice through the door.
She was sure he was encouraging his new client to feel the same trust in him that she had always felt.
She knew Henry always tried to make things right.
The door to Henry’s office opened a crack, and Mae could hear soft crying from the other side.
Henry’s head poked out, finding Mae still organizing her desk.
“Looks like we will be taking on Mrs. Kerr’s case.
Poor woman. It should be easy enough for you to pull some paperwork and precedent tomorrow,” he informed Mae.
“Hopefully, I can file the motion as soon as possible.”
Easy enough? Did he forget that she had to stop at three different places just to pull some paperwork and precedent?
Mae mentally counted the steps—three different buildings, four trains, certified copies of her work from the clerk.
Just cataloguing her name in each of their ledgers felt like too much work at this point.
Her eyes darted to the financial ledger.
He continued, ignoring her stunned silence. “We have forty-eight hours to file for reunification before they mark her for adoption. Either we file tomorrow or we don’t file at all.”
Mae raised an eyebrow. As the door closed, Mae could hear Henry’s soothing cadence as he reassured Mrs. Kerr that they would do everything possible to get her daughter back to her.
He was so good at giving hope, but as Mae thought of the dominoes she had to set up to fall in their favor, she shook her head. Most of these petitions failed.
Forty-eight hours. That was a quick turnaround for placement. She wondered at the haste, but Mae knew that once a child was marked for placement at the Foundling, they were never reunited.
Somewhere downtown, a four-year-old girl waited. But by three o’clock, her own son would be waiting too.
* * *
Somewhere downtown, a four-year-old girl had waited. Mae had given Winona forty-eight hours and a motion. She understood now what those forty-eight hours had felt like.
Mae lay forlornly on her bed and gazed out at the drizzling gray sky.
The remainder of the day before had been spent sprawled on the couch, soaking in the tub until the water had turned cold, and staring at the hardened loaf of bread that she had smeared with jam but her stomach found repulsive to eat.
While her body had been listless, her thoughts had been wearing out the wooden planks of her mind.
She heard Simon's voice ringing in her memory, then being silenced suddenly by the pounding of the Foundling door against the jamb.
The recurring sounds created a constant loop that unraveled any cohesive thoughts she tried to grasp.
What would Henry do? How would he go about this?
She tried to think as he would have. But she found she couldn’t.
She had never been the creative one. He had thought of the ideas and she had researched them.
That had been their team. He led and she followed up with the supporting documentation.
Now that the team was broken, she realized just how inept she had been as a partner.
She’d abdicated all responsibility for their practice, their family, their marriage to Henry in the hopes that her acquiescence would make her indispensable.
Now she knew that it was Henry who was indispensable.
Without him, there was no practice. No family.
No future. I can’t hide behind him anymore. Simon needs me.
The clopping of a horse down the street created a soft rhythm in her ears, and as it approached from down the street, it pushed the traumatic sounds of the day temporarily from her mind.
Clop. Clop. Clop. She closed her eyes and tried to envision Henry's smile, but her mind’s eye saw the dark cross burned into the wooden door that had slammed in her face.
Her mind turned over Father Cary’s comment about Simon’s file.
If he entered her attempt in Simon’s file, then there was a file.
She might be able to use it as a loophole if she could dig up the rest of the paperwork.
The notice still hadn’t been served to her by the probation officer.
She would make a point to stop in at the Children’s Court again to verify the documents.
She went over the motion that she had drafted for Lily Kerr in her mind.
If Simon’s case was missing attestations, she could draft a second motion for Simon based on Lily’s.
It couldn’t be her that filed the motion, though.
She couldn’t use Henry’s status as her overseeing counsel anymore.
She considered her options. Henry hadn’t had too many close friends.
The only name that popped into her mind was Judge Matthews.
Henry had clerked for him during his time in law school.
She knew Henry had kept in touch and had reached out when he had needed a second legal opinion.
Judge Matthews would remember Henry. Would he allow her to file the motion under him?
Rolling to her side, she focused on the photo of their wedding day.
Across the room, the dark, black and white details were blurring together.
Reluctantly, she peeled herself from the bed and walked to the dresser.
The cold metal of the frame bit into her palms and singed her fingertips.
As she stared at the young couple in front of her, unrecognizable in their happiness and youth, she studied their smiles.
Her hands had warmed the frame now, and the remembrance of Henry's features warmed her heart.