“You couldn’t have done anything for him,” Rainey whispers to me in the corridor outside the emergency room after I confess how I vomited in the sink and waited inside the house until the ambulance came.
“He didn’t have a chance.”
Thank God. I was terrified that there was something I might have done to save his life. Rainey pats me on the shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“No, but at least I’m alive,” I say, my mind replaying the moment Chet squeezed the trigger.
“Where is Leigh?”
“I left her at my house,” she says, looking at me solicitously.
“I just called her a few minutes ago. She’s okay.”
I go up to Wynona and Trey, who are in the waiting room seated beside Shane Norman and presumably other members from Christian Life. As soon as I see Shane, I begin to feel anger building inside me. Why?
He didn’t kill Chet, but suddenly I am convinced that Chet would still be alive this morning if he had never met Norman. Though I can’t put it into words and realize instantly how irrationally I am thinking, I know that Shane is somehow connected with chet’s decision to take his life. This is hardly the time for a confrontation, and I force myself to concentrate on Wynona’s face, which is a mixture of shock and disbelief. Trey, the poor kid, is crying so hard he is hiccuping. I put my arms around them both, unable to think of a single word that is appropriate. After a few moments, Wynona pulls me off to the side and whispers in a choked voice, “Did he say anything at all?”
“No,” I say, not up to admitting to her that I actually saw him pull the trigger, although I have told the police.
“I was just opening the door to come outside.”
“He left a note for me and Trey,” she gasps, “but all he says is that he loves us and that God would forgive him.”
I look down at her ravaged face, realizing she is working over in her mind the same question I am. Why did Chet choose to kill himself the morning the trial was to start? What did he know that he didn’t tell me?
I glance at Shane, who is now comforting some old lady. He is wearing the earnest, compassionate expression of the professional caregiver. With Trey right be side her, it is not the time to ask, but I murmur, “Do you think it was related to this case?”
“I just don’t understand,” she says, wiping her eyes.
“You know how much this case meant to him.”
Trey looks at me blankly, eyes red and swollen. I can’t say to him that his stepfather was notorious for having no friends, no associates, no permanent employees other than a secretary whom he reputedly replaced regularly. The truth is, I have no idea what he really thought about this case. Though finally he seemed to accept the possibility that Shane was involved in his son-in-law’s death, I can’t be certain of it. Did he kill himself because he couldn’t bring himself to accuse the man who brought him to Christianity? I don’t know. At best I was to be nothing more than an ill-prepared emergency backup. At worst I was being used in some way I can’t fathom.
“He was the best lawyer I ever saw in a courtroom,” I say. It is trite, but I know it will mean something to Trey for as long as he has a memory.
Some of the most heartfelt tributes I heard made to Rosa after her death were in situations equally awkward. I look up and see Shane coming toward me. I extend my hand, wondering if he can sense my hostility.
His bloodshot eyes suggest he had a long night, too.
Wynona and Trey drift back to the sympathetic faces around them, and Shane, dressed in the expensive blue suit I saw him preach in, demands.
“Why didn’t you call me last night when you found Leigh?”
I had expected a question about Chet and, nonplussed I stare at him. For the first time it hits home that, for the moment at least, I and I alone am Leigh’s lawyer.
“She didn’t want you to know.” My words come out sounding more prickly than I intend. Nothing will be accomplished by pissing off Shane Norman. It was Shane who retained Chet, not Leigh. I do not tell him his daughter has begun to take seriously the notion he may have killed her husband.
“You can’t represent someone if she doesn’t trust you.”
Shane draws back from me and says levelly, “You were only chet’s assistant.”
I look about the room at the group of mourners. I do not see a single other lawyer present. I keep my voice low.
“Leigh’s an adult; she can make that decision for herself.”
Shane somehow smiles as he says, “I insist that you tell me where my daughter is.”
If I didn’t feel the same way he does, I’d have less sympathy.
“I’ll tell her,” I say truthfully, “you want very much to see her.”
For the second time since I have known him, I see a glimpse of Shane’s anger. With his back to the members of his congregation, his eyes narrow and his jaw tightens.
“I wouldn’t get too high and mighty, Mr. Page.
There are ways of dealing with people like you.”
Who are people like me? I wonder. Lapsed Catholics Solo practitioners who will take any case they can get? Or fathers of confused teenagers? Clearly, this is a threat, but of what kind? I resist the temptation to ask if he is going to have me killed, too, but just barely.
12
“I’m sorry,” I lie.
“I know how upset you are.” Under the circumstances, he can’t be a friend, but I surely don’t want him as an enemy.
He turns and walks back toward Wynona and Trey and the members of his church. Though I cannot see his face, I am sure he is smiling once again. At this moment Sarah walks through the double doors, her eyes searching for mine. I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life.
“Rainey called the school,” she says, hugging me.
“Dad, are you all right?”
I turn and, out of the corner of my eye, see Rainey smiling at me.
“Yeah,” I manage and feel my cheeks wet, “but I’m sure glad to see you.”
“Poor Dad,” she says, her voice hoarse with emotion, “it must have been awful for you.”
I guide her outside into the sunlight so I can take a deep breath. Though she is wearing the jeans and a blue sweater I’ve seen a dozen times, she looks great. Happy to milk a little sympathy, I say, “It was pretty bad.”
“I’ll move back home this afternoon,” she says, with no trace of sullenness in her voice, “if you want.”
I want. I nod gratefully.
“And I’ll keep my mouth shut.” This isn’t the way I would have liked for her to make the decision, but I am learning fast that I control very little these days.
“For about ten minutes,” she says, her red mouth forming a familiar smirk.
I must seem okay for her to make a smart-ass remark.
If I had really looked shaky, she would have been too scared. Just seeing her has restored my spirits. Between her and Rainey I may make it through this week. I motion through the glass for Rainey to come out.
“Rainey’s been a big help,” I say, thinking of last night and this morning.
Sarah watches as Rainey nods and starts to come toward us.
“When has she not?” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.
“I can’t believe y’all aren’t married.”
I jam my hands in my pockets to keep from saying something stupid. We are covering a lot of territory this morning. If Sarah knew I had gone out to a club the night before last to pick up a woman, I’d hear no end of it.
“Well, let’s get poor Mr. Bracken buried first,” I say, knowing this remark will bring her up short.
As Rainey pushes open the door, Sarah asks solemnly “When is the trial postponed to?”
I wink at Rainey to let her know everything is okay.
It is apparent she hasn’t told Shane that Leigh is at her house. I wonder if she has finally begun to have her own doubts about Shane. Either that or she is being extremely loyal to me. Perhaps both.