Chapter 24
Janie had thrown up twice before they even left the house Monday morning.
The first time was right after she got out of the shower, the anxiety hitting her so hard she barely made it to the toilet.
The second was after she’d gotten dressed in her most conservative navy suit, the go-to one she wore to court when she needed to project competence and stability, and realized her hands were shaking too badly to fasten the buttons.
She got there in plenty of time, but splash-back on her suit forced a change of outfit.
She was sitting on the edge of their bed, half-dressed and crying, when Hannah came in. She wordlessly finished buttoning Janie’s shirt, then pulled her into a hug that Janie wanted to stay in forever.
“We’re going to get through this,” Hannah murmured into her hair. “Whatever happens, we’re going to get through it together.”
God, how Janie wished that were true. But if everything went against them today, would Hannah really not blame her for losing their children?
And she couldn’t shake the image of a judge, a total stranger who knew nothing about them and nothing about how much they loved their daughters, getting to decide their family’s fate in a matter of hours.
It seemed ironic that she’d been more than happy with the ability of a hundred judges in her cases deciding the fate of her client.
Maybe this was payback for her cavalier attitude.
She finally disentangled herself from Hannah’s embrace, and they went downstairs to wait for the Uber she’d ordered.
David had insisted they didn’t drive, probably sensing that neither of them were fit to navigate the mayhem of Monday’s morning traffic, and though Tom had offered to take them, Janie politely declined.
The last trip in his back seat had left her with palpitations and deep nail marks in her palms.
Maria had already arrived, and she pulled Janie into a warm and deep embrace. “Everything will be fine, mija.”
“Thank you for coming to look after the girls,” Janie said, choosing not to acknowledge Maria’s statement. She wanted to believe her, more than anything, but doubt burrowed deep in her mind, warning her of impending doom.
Hannah showed Maria to the playroom and returned with Tom, who then stood at the door like a sentry ready for battle.
Janie hadn’t seen him in a suit since their wedding.
They had people in their corner and on their side, but all of it might mean nothing in the face of Angela Evans and her legal entourage.
Janie froze at the base of the stairs, staring at her phone screen and the little black car moving toward their house. Hannah touched the small of her back, and she almost collapsed against her.
“It’ll be over soon,” Hannah said.
Her words didn’t provide the comfort they were supposed to.
Over didn’t necessarily mean the right result.
Over could mean her life as a mother was done, and she’d never get to hold her beautiful little girls ever again.
Because if a judge was going to take her children away, why would they allow her visitation rights?
Lawyer logic tried to creep in but didn’t make it past the barking black dog of her catastrophizing.
“The car’s here,” Tom said, opening the door.
The cool air rushed in, wrapping her in even more doubt.
The October morning was crisp and clear, the kind of day that should have imbued hope but instead loomed like a mockery.
How dare the weather be beautiful when Janie’s entire world could be about to collapse?
Hannah’s hand was once again at her back, gently ushering her out of the house and toward the Uber.
She got in and shuffled across to the center, then stared out the windshield, not particularly fixing on a point of interest. If the driver braked hard and she shot through the windshield, at least this nightmare would be over.
She was vaguely aware of Hannah putting her seatbelt on for her, as if she’d sensed Janie’s nonchalance about her own mortality, and then she fell away from the surroundings of the interior and the chatter of their driver into a kind of echoey trance.
She didn’t want to engage in small talk with a stranger when the custody of her beloved children hung in the balance.
How was she supposed to entertain inane drivel about the latest sports game or the state of the country’s politics when she could be two hours away from becoming childless, no longer able to claim the title of mom?
She partially emerged from the vaguely meditative state when she became aware of Hannah squeezing her hand.
“We’re here.”
Hannah’s voice was distant, as if Janie were hearing her through a seashell.
A vivid and beautiful memory of her grandma with her at the beach, each with a seashell pressed to their ears, presented itself in her mind, and she smiled.
All of her special childhood memories were with Grandma Susan, but she didn’t want her own children to have that same experience.
She would be different. And that meant not letting her vindictive, greedy mother anywhere near the girls.
A thread of steel wound its way from the base of her spine and up into her mind, fortifying her for the battle ahead.
Suddenly, sound returned and everything became crystal-sharp.
She grasped Hannah’s hand tightly. “She’s not taking them away from us.”
Hannah tugged Janie closer. “Damn right she isn’t.”
David hurried across the sidewalk to open the door and helped Janie out of the car. “You reminded Maria not to answer the door for anyone and to call me immediately if anyone shows up claiming to have a court order, yes?”
“Yes.” Janie arched her eyebrow, briefly offended at the implication she might’ve forgotten something that important.
But she hadn’t been her usual, logical self throughout this ordeal, so his question was vaguely justified.
She glanced over to the main entrance and saw Gabe, Lori, Shay, Rosie, Woody, and RB were already there, looking like they were about to launch some kind of queer military operation.
“Ready?” David asked, more gently this time.
Janie looked at Hannah, who took her hand. “No,” she said. “But let’s do it anyway.”
As they approached the steps, their people surrounded them. Gabe fell into step on Hannah’s left, her presence solid and commanding. Shay took up position on Janie’s right, her usual bright energy replaced by something fierce and protective.
“You’ve got this,” Shay said quietly.
Janie leaned her head on Shay’s shoulder for a moment and sighed deeply. “Thank you for coming.”
Inside, the courthouse was all marble and echoes and too many people moving with purpose. That was usually a familiar comfort, but today it felt foreboding. But Janie shook it off, determined to maintain the fortitude that had coursed through her in the car.
David led them to a courtroom on the third floor, and Janie’s stomach dropped when she saw her mother already seated with her lawyer, a severe-looking woman in a predictably expensive suit. She was currently reviewing documents with a focus that made Janie’s legal instincts scream danger.
Her mother looked up as they entered, and something flickered across her face very briefly.
Surprise, maybe, at the size of the group accompanying Janie.
Or perhaps calculation, already figuring out how to spin the presence of such a motley crew of individuals.
But it was milliseconds before her mother’s expression smoothed into the perfect mask of concerned grandmother, and nausea rushed up Janie’s throat once again.
“Don’t look at her,” Rosie said softly, placing her hand on Janie’s shoulder. “Look at us. Look at Hannah. Look at everyone who’s here for you.”
Janie nodded and forced herself to focus on Hannah instead and on the set of her strong jaw, the way she stood straighter when she was nervous, as if she was on parade again. Then there was the tiny muscle twitching in her cheek that meant she was holding back her surging emotions.
Hannah turned and gave her a small, tight smile. “We’re going to get through this.”
The court officer called them to order, and everyone else settled into the gallery seats.
“Remember,” David said, looking at Hannah, “this isn’t a full hearing. It’s just an emergency motion to determine temporary custody while the main case is pending.”
Janie arched her eyebrow and meant it this time. “Just” felt like a joke when a negative outcome would mean her daughters being ripped away from them.
Judge Morrison entered, her sharp eyes and expression giving away nothing. A small sprig of hope fluttered in Janie’s stomach; surely a Black female judge would be more sympathetic to the challenges they faced, more understanding of—
Don’t be stupid. That was her mother’s kind of thinking, making assumptions based on demographics. Judge Morrison would rule based on the law and the evidence. Nothing more, and nothing less.
“This is an emergency motion for temporary custody filed by Angela Evans, maternal grandmother of,” Judge Morrison glanced at her notes, “Tia, Luna, and Chloe Rogers-Evans, currently in the custody of their parents, Hannah Rogers and Janie Evans.”
Hearing the girls’ full names, so formal and legal, made Janie’s chest hurt. They were her babies, not cold names on a legal document.
“Ms. Bradford,” Judge Morrison said, looking at Angela’s lawyer. “You have the floor.”
Bradford stood with a confidence that came from years of winning, and Janie fought to control the bile rising from her roiling guts. She would be confident too, confident that her girls belonged with her and Hannah.