Chapter 35 #2
“Well, his daughter to you adults.” Debbie’s brows knitted together, and she nodded seriously. “But dragon princesses are stronger than regular princesses because they can breathe fire and fly and protect their kingdoms from mean wizards.”
“I see.” Judge Williams was definitely biting back a grin now, though her nod was so grave I imagined her sentencing hardened criminals next. “And you want Mr. Jamison to be your daddy forever and always?”
She didn’t flinch. “He already is my daddy. He reads me stories and makes me pancakes and helps me with my dragon drawings. He takes care of me when I’m sick and hugs me when I’m scared and loves me even when I’m cranky in the morning and have bad hair.”
“And how do you feel about being adopted? It’s a big step. Once you do this, there’s no going back.”
Debbie’s face grew even more serious, and for a moment she looked far older than her five years. “I feel happy. Really, really happy. Because Daddy chose me, and I choose him, and after today, no one can say we’re not a real family.”
The judge’s professional demeanor cracked completely, her smile breaking free. “Thank you, Miss Deborah. You and Mr. Jamison can return to your seats now.”
As Debbie climbed down from the witness stand, practically glowing, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
She’d been perfect—articulate and honest and so completely her adorably beautiful self.
Judge Williams shuffled through some papers, presumably preparing to make things official, when the back doors of the courtroom burst open with a bang that echoed through the space.
Everyone turned to stare as a woman and man I’d never seen before strode down the center aisle, their footsteps sharp and purposeful.
The woman was tall and angular, with graying brown hair pulled back and clothes that screamed “professional disapproval.” The man beside her carried a briefcase and wore the kind of expensive suit that suggested he was very good at his job.
My blood ran cold.
“Your Honor,” the man called out, his voice carrying easily through the suddenly tense courtroom. “I apologize for the interruption, but I believe my client has standing to be heard in this matter.”
Judge Williams’s expression shifted from warm to strictly professional in the span of a heartbeat. “And you are?”
“Robert Kaufman, representing Ms. Linda Trubio. Ms. Trubio is the biological aunt of the minor child and seeks to be heard regarding this adoption proceeding.”
The world tilted sideways.
I had to brace myself on the petitioner’s table.
Aunt Linda.
The one who’d never called, never visited, never shown even the slightest interest in Debbie’s existence. The one I’d never even met.
More importantly, the one Debbie had never met.
“Your Honor”—Sarah was on her feet immediately—“this is highly irregular. Ms. Trubio has had four years to object to my client’s guardianship and has never—”
“And is late to this proceeding,” the judge growled.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Kaufman interrupted smoothly, “my client only recently became aware of these proceedings. She traveled from Montana specifically to address this court and assert her rights as Miss Deborah’s closest living relative.”
Judge Williams stared, a raptor glaring at a herd, as though deciding which was weakest and should become dinner. Her gaze moved between the attorneys before settling on me. I was still gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles had gone white.
“Mr. Kaufman, I’ll allow you to enter the bar and state your client’s position because Georgia law requires such, but I want to be clear—this proceeding has been properly noticed, and any objections should have been filed well in advance.”
“Understood, Your Honor. My client seeks an emergency stay of these proceedings pending a full custody evaluation.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Custody evaluation.
Stay of the proceedings.
They were trying to stop the adoption.
They were trying to take Debbie away from me.
I glanced at Debbie, who was sitting forward in her chair, her tiny arms on the table. She wore a confused expression, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding what was happening. Our eyes met, and she gave me a small smile, trusting that whatever was going on, I would handle it.
That trust nearly broke me.
“Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams addressed the woman who’d remained silent through her attorney’s presentation, “please approach the bench.”
Linda Trubio walked forward with the bearing of someone accustomed to getting her way. She was sworn in and took the witness stand with confidence I found both impressive and terrifying.
“Ms. Trubio,” her attorney began, “can you state your relationship to the minor child?”
“Deborah is my late sister’s daughter. When my sister and her husband died, I was overseas for work. By the time I returned to the States and learned of their deaths, the child had already been placed with him.” She gestured toward me with barely concealed disdain.
“And why are you here today?”
“Because I’ve recently learned that Mr. Jamison is living an alternative lifestyle that I believe is detrimental to my niece’s well-being. A child should be raised in a traditional family environment, not exposed to . . . inappropriate influences.”
My stomach dropped to my shoes.
Alternative lifestyle.
Inappropriate influences.
Did she know about Jeremiah?
“And what specific concerns do you have?” Mr. Kaufman continued.
“I have it on good authority that Mr. Jamison is engaging in a romantic relationship with another man, and that this man has been spending significant time in the home where my niece resides. They only met weeks ago, and already Deborah calls this man ‘Daddy.’ I don’t believe children should be exposed to such situations. ”
Sarah was already rising to object, but Judge Williams waved her down.
“I’ll allow you to cross-examine the witness,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
Sarah approached the witness stand with the measured steps of a predator circling prey. “Ms. Trubio, when was the last time you saw Deborah?”
Linda Trubio shifted slightly. “She was very young—”
“How young specifically?”
“Perhaps . . . six months old.”
“Six months. And when was the last time you contacted Mr. Jamison to inquire about Deborah’s welfare?”
Silence.
“Ms. Trubio, when was the last time you contacted anyone to inquire about your niece?”
“I was dealing with my own grief—”
“Your Honor?”
Judge Williams leaned forward. “Answer the question, Ms. Trubio.”
Sarah nodded to the judge and rephrased her question. “I’ll remind you of my question. Have you ever, in the four years since your sister’s death, reached out to check on Deborah’s well-being?”
“No.”
“Have you ever sent a birthday card? A Christmas gift? A letter?”
“No.”
“Have you ever contributed financially to her care?”
“No, but—”
“Have you ever objected to Mr. Jamison’s guardianship until today?”
“No.”
“So you’ve had no contact with this child for over four years, have shown no interest in her welfare, and are now suddenly concerned about her living situation?”
“Daddy, who’s that lady?” Debbie asked a little too loudly. All heads—including the judge’s—turned toward her.
“She gets to talk now, sweetie. Just sit tight. Everything will be okay,” I said through gritted teeth, unsure if I was lying to my little girl or not.
Judge Williams’s stare lingered before returning to Sarah. “Continue.”
She raised a brow and simply asked, “No contact in four years? That was the question.”
“I was unaware of the full circumstances—”
“What circumstances, specifically, are you referring to?”
Linda Trubio’s composure cracked, and a touch of righteous anger flared in her eyes. “The moral environment. The . . . lifestyle choices that are being modeled for an impressionable child.”
“You mean the fact that Mr. Jamison is gay?”
“Children should be raised with traditional values—”
Sarah looked to the judge.
“Please, just answer the questions you are asked, Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams instructed.
“Ms. Trubio, are you aware that Deborah has been thriving in Mr. Jamison’s care? That she’s healthy, happy, academically successful for her age, and well adjusted?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Then what is the point? What is your specific objection to this adoption?”
Linda straightened in her chair, her voice taking on a tone that made my skin crawl. “My objection is that no child should be raised in an environment where homosexual activity is taking place. It’s inappropriate and harmful.”
The courtroom fell silent except for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
Judge Williams leaned forward slightly. “Ms. Trubio, I’m going to ask you directly—do you have any evidence that Deborah has been harmed, neglected, or mistreated in any way while in Mr. Jamison’s care?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Do you have any evidence that she’s been exposed to anything inappropriate or harmful?”
“The very presence of two men and the nature of their relationship—”
“Ms. Trubio, that’s not evidence. That’s opinion.” Judge Williams’s tone had grown sharp. “Do you have any concrete evidence of harm to this child?”
“Your Honor.” Mr. Kaufman rose. “If I may, Georgia statute clearly favors a ‘best interest’ interpretation in favor of the child, not the adult. Further, many courts in this state side with heterosexual relationships over homosexual ones under this principle. We only—”
“I understand your argument, however outdated it may be,” the judge snapped.
“I believe that children need traditional role models—”
“That’s enough, Ms. Trubio.” Judge Williams turned to address both attorneys. “I’m going to recess this hearing for lunch and to consider the testimony presented. We’ll reconvene at two p.m.”
The gavel came down with a sound like thunder, and the judge rose and exited the courtroom.
As people began to file out, I remained frozen in my seat, unfeeling fingers gripping hardened wood, staring up at the empty judge’s bench.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not today.
Not when we were so close.
“Daddy?” Debbie’s voice cut through my panic.
She was looking up at me with worried eyes. “Why was that lady talking about you like that? And why does she look so mad?”
I sucked in a steadying breath and turned to face her, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s your aunt Linda, Button. She’s . . . she just wants to make sure you’re safe.”
“Why? We’re happy. We’re a good family.”
“I know we are, sweetheart. Sometimes grown-ups disagree about things, but it’s going to be okay.”
But as I held her small hand and looked into her trusting eyes, I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore.
Sarah appeared beside us, her expression grim. “Theo, we need to talk.”