Sweetest Kisses: A Single Kiss Part 38

G.o.d in heaven. The coincidences were piling up thick and fast. Hannah identified bewilderment, a little anger, and some joy in the emotions rocketing through her, but most of all, she was curious.

"How did you do it? How did you survive giving up your baby?"

"Not very well. I worked more hours than any new a.s.sociate in the history of the profession. I avoided my family, I took ten years to start dating again, and when I did marry, I found a man who agreed not to have children. I didn't think I deserved children after giving you up, and Dan never had children either. You are an only child, Hannah."

Something tickled at the back of Hannah's mind as she listened to Louise's recitation. The woman had suffered, clearly, and was suffering still.

"Lilacs," Hannah said, smiling for no good reason. "You're wearing lilac perfume."

"I keep lilac potpourri in my office. I burn lilac candles at home," Louise said. "It's a soothing scent, and your father complimented me on it once. I've worn it ever since."

She smiled a shy, sidewise smile that, holy G.o.d, reminded Hannah of Grace.

"Well, Hannah, what do we do now?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know. I am the last person to ask about how to be a family. I do know, though, that you have a granddaughter, and you would be within your rights to pet.i.tion for visitation with her if you chose to."

Louise's eyebrows rose. "I may be a judge, Hannah, but that doesn't mean I want judges managing my personal affairs. Legally, I'm a stranger to that child. I'll keep my distance if that's what you want. I can't speak for Dan, but I can't imagine him learning how to be selfish and intrusive at this late date."

Hannah frowned at Judge...Louise...at her mother, and cast about for something she could honestly offer.

The silence stretched until it was broken by Grace's voice, high-pitched with happy excitement.

"This is soooo cool. The judge has a picture of Bronco in her office, and she painted it herself. Wait until I tell Merle!" Dan Halverston stood in the doorway to Louise's private office, Grace perched on his hip.

"Hannah." Dan Halverston's smile would have illuminated the infernal pit itself. "Your hearing went well."

When Hannah rose she found herself enveloped in a gentle bear hug.

"Mom, did you see Bronco's picture? Aunt Judge painted it herself when she wasn't much older than I am now. Well, maybe a little older, but it's him, Mom. Now I can show Merle exactly what he looks like."

Grace was beaming, the most beautiful sight under the sun. A happy child, safe and free to be amazed at the small and not so small glories around her.

She also wasn't wiggling to escape Halverston's arms and run to her mother.

"Thank you both for looking out for Grace today," Hannah said. "Things in the courtroom got a little peculiar." When she thought about how close she'd come to losing Grace, she abruptly dropped back into her chair. Halverston sat as well, s.h.i.+fting Grace to his lap.

"I want to sit with Aunt Judge," Grace said. She scrambled off Halverston's lap and climbed onto Louise's.

Hannah was struck anew at the resemblance. Two pretty smiles, both with dark eyes, perfect skin, and determined chins. The facial shape was the same, the tilt to the eyes, the line of the eyebrows.

"Why is Aunt Judge crying?" Grace asked, some irritation mixed with her bewilderment.

Hannah's voice was surprisingly steady.

"Aunt Judge is afraid, Grace, that because she sometimes couldn't cope very well when she was alone and overwhelmed, she might not be treated very nicely now. She is afraid we won't want to be her friends. I expect Uncle Judge is afraid of the same thing."

Grace scanned the three adults, her brows drawing down in a scowl.

"That's silly. Everybody has bad days, and I-did-something-dumb days. You tell me that all the time, Mom, and you don't throw me away on my bad days."

"That's right, Grace. And you don't throw me away on my bad days either. We wouldn't throw somebody away who was trying their hardest to do the best they could."

Louise set Grace down and gave her a push toward Hannah. Hannah's parents embraced, both of them in tears.

Hannah nudged Grace and whispered that they were going to find Mac and stop at the ice cream parlor on the way home, but she also paused to slip a note into an envelope and leave it on the secretary's desk.

Time enough later-the rest of their lives-to sort out this third miracle of the day. Grace needed an explanation, but she wouldn't be concerned with all the whys and wherefores yet. Grace was too busy accepting her grandparents on the strength of intuition alone, and her child's heart was more ruled by who needed loving than who felt deserving of being loved.

Chapter 18.

Hannah answered the phone, surprised and not a little disappointed to hear James's voice instead of Trent's.

"How are my two favorite girls?"

"From what I hear, you have a different favorite girl about every four hours."

"That's because you listen to my brothers, who are just jealous. I wanted you to know DSS interviewed that kid Larry, and got exactly nothing out of him, except some guy threatened to strangle Larry's puppy if Larry didn't leave as many bruises on Grace as he could."

"Some guy?

"Larry couldn't even give a physical description. They talked on the phone."

"With a blocked number, no doubt. You've heard I acquired some relatives?"

James didn't even try to dodge. "It's all over the courthouse, though n.o.body is saying whether Stevens spilled the beans or Halverston or Merriman. My money's on Stevens. Do you know what this means?"

"I have no privacy?" Though Hannah did have family. The oddness of that was eclipsed only by the loveliness, for if Hannah had family, Grace did too.

"You're related to legal royalty, Hannah. Louise has a sister and a cousin on the federal bench, Dan's brother is on the Court of Special Appeals here in Maryland, and his other brother teaches at Stanford Law. You've also got cousins practicing law, and there's a governor in the bunch somewhere too. I thought you should know before you came in to work tomorrow."

"Did Trent put you up to calling me?"

"No, sweetie, he did not."

"Since when do you call your prospective employee sweetie?"

"Since my brother had the great good sense to fall in love with you. I'd take your docket for you tomorrow, but I don't know the first thing about family law."

"And I wouldn't let you. Those are my clients."

James prosed on for a few more minutes, but Hannah barely heard him.

Had he said Trent was in love with her?

"Gerald, you gave it your best shot, but Social Services dropped the ball," Joan said. She kept her voice steady, her tone placatory, because the idiot b.u.t.thead nutcase was doing the bad, hard stuff now, and it showed. The bones of Gerald's face were more prominent, going from handsome to feral. The light in his eyes wasn't merely arrogant, it was pure lunatic.

"Give it up, Gerald," she went on. "DSS won't go off half-c.o.c.ked on another bunch of anonymous phone calls."

Gerald jittered around Joan's kitchen, his three-piece suit looking like some rumpled castoff Goodwill might have lent him for a rare job interview. Oh, how the mighty had turned mighty stupid.

"I got a fax from bar counsel, Joan, certified letter to follow," Gerald snarled. "You know what that means? Hannah Stark has destroyed not only a decent job with cushy bennies, but the rest of my f.u.c.king legal career. If she hadn't been there to step into my shoes, the Knightley brothers would have been a lot more reasonable over a little moonlighting. Now they're taking me out."

He paused in this tirade, looming over her so spittle flew into her face when he spoke. Joan barely repressed the urge to gag as Gerald went on ranting.

"DSS didn't screw up, Joan. I did the research, I got into the confidential court files, and I laid a faultless trap. I didn't screw up, but your stupid nephew did. You said Larry was the biggest kid in second grade because he flunked a year. He apparently wasn't big enough to push around one b.i.t.c.h-lawyer's little brat. You said he'd get the job done."

Joan's temper rose, but she knew better than to let loose with Gerald in his current mood. He was too drugged up and too angry, taking chances no sane person would, for reasons no sane person would understand.

She sidled away and untangled the trailing twine of the dream catcher hanging in the kitchen window. No cops parked in the complex parking lot now, when she needed them-of course.

"Look, Gerald. Larry did what he could, given that he was scared to death. You did a low-down, rotten thing to an eight-year-old, especially when Larry has it tough enough without you turning him into some kind of playground enforcer. You never said you'd get ugly with him. If I find out you're leaning on him again, you will regret it."

Gerald went still.

"Joan Smithson," he said almost pleasantly, "are you threatening me?"

Yes, she was. Only a dumba.s.s would have to ask.

People came and went in Joan's life, and her att.i.tude had always been live and let live. Since Gerald had handled her DUI, she'd learned that she should have simply shown up in court in one of her Aunt Joan outfits and apologized for being an irresponsible idiot-which she absolutely had been. As a first offender with a clean record, she'd probably have been shown lenience.

"You're twice my size, Gerald. You have more education than everybody in my family put together, and you're a lawyer. The car you drive is worth more than my mama's mobile home. How could I possibly threaten you?"

He slicked his hand over hair that needed was.h.i.+ng. "d.a.m.n right you're no match for me. Tell Larry he'd better keep that puppy inside. Where can I get some goodies?"

Gerald must have run out of that expensive cologne. He bore the subtle stench of old, nervous sweat, a stink common to the addict.

Boy was dumber than a puppy t.u.r.d too.

"You go down to the convenience store on Eighth around seven this evening, and quietly ask the gal at the register if Leo's around. Browse for a few minutes while she makes a call where the security cameras won't see her, then Leo will meet you out back. He delivers the product, and one of his guys will meet you at your car and get the money from you. Don't screw with Leo, Gerald. It's his ball, his bat, and his rule book."

"You think that scares me?"

It d.a.m.ned well should. "Don't tell him I sent you, whatever you do."

"And have him think I rely on you for my connections? Not likely." Gerald left, one of his fancy s.h.i.+rttails hanging out behind.

Joan cracked a window, despite the cold, and watched him drive off. Before his Beemer had screeched around the corner, she dialed a number a friend had given her in case she ever needed legal representation again. As the receptionist asked to whom she could connect Joan, Joan waved at Gerald's disappearing taillights.

"Mr. Trenton Knightley, please."

Hannah tried to focus on the morning's cases, but her mind refused to cooperate.

If Eliza had sent Henry to school yesterday, Grace would be in foster care.

If Patlack hadn't been so heavy-handed with Eliza on the witness stand, Grace would be in foster care.

If Judge Stevens hadn't raised five kids, Henry might not have been such a good witness, and Grace could be in foster care.

Something Judge Stevens had said kept going around in Hannah's head: the best decisions were the ones made based on complete information. When Hannah had made the decision to go to law school, then to sit for the bar, she hadn't had complete information. n.o.body at the start of a career did.

Somebody had made an anonymous call to DSS, maybe several calls, and without knowing anything about that caller or his motives, the Department had charged off, determined to keep Grace safe from her mother.

This morning, with the child support cases, the judge wouldn't have complete information. He'd have a handful of facts, a few minutes to look them over, and then, boom, he could destroy lives or protect them with a few words.

Somehow, Hannah made it through her docket. Other attorneys gave her odd smiles, maybe because, as James had said, she was the local equivalent of legal royalty, maybe because she was the attorney whose kid DSS had tried and failed to s.n.a.t.c.h.

She returned the smiles automatically, wondering all the while who had called DSS, and why. After the last case concluded, Margaret wished her happy holidays then trundled off, leaving Hannah to pack up in the empty courtroom.

When her files were jammed into her briefcase, she considered her surroundings.

Lives were wrecked here. Yes, justice was done, sometimes, but more often, imperfect decisions were imposed by imperfect people on other imperfect people with far from perfect results.

"I hate you," Hannah said to the room. "I hate that my life was decided in rooms just like you. You're cold, utilitarian, and unfriendly. You're not very well informed. You smell like fear and mud."

"I hope you don't attribute those qualities to me," said a voice behind her.

Trenton Knightley, who had not called Hannah last night, no matter how hard she'd stared at the phone.

But then, she hadn't called him either. "I love your scent," Hannah said. "You could never be cold or unfriendly without reason, but this place..." Sharp winter light slanted in the tall windows; a single small mitten lay on the front pew. "I can't do this, Trent."

She sat at the counsel table, more than post-docket crash knocking her off her feet.

Trent took the other chair, setting his double briefcase beside Hannah's overstuffed one.

"You're a good lawyer, Hannah. You can't throw seven years education and tons of ability out with the trash."

"I can't throw the rest of my life into the practice of law if it isn't right for me. I wanted to tame the courthouse dragons, I see that now, but they're not dragons. They're merely people trying their human best to manage impossible situations with tools that aren't always effective."

The room was silent, save for the wind rattling a back window. A bailiff came by and collected the water pitchers from the counsel tables.

"So you're leaving?" Trent asked when they were alone again. His tone was neutral, which hurt worse than if he'd made the question an accusation.

"I won't jump s.h.i.+p until you have a replacement," Hannah said. "I can impersonate a lawyer for a few more weeks." They would be long, hard weeks, even though making the decision to go gave her a sense of peace. "My parents might not understand."

"Families work through these things."