Damaged (25 page)

“Isn't that what a
guardian ad litem
does?” Mary knew the term from law school.

“No. A
guardian ad litem,
a GAL, is similar to a Child Advocate in that both are lawyers trained to represent children in these cases. But a GAL doesn't represent what the child
wants.
A GAL represents what the child
needs
and what is in the child's best legal interests.” John looked up at her. “Take the case where the Child Advocate will testify that the child wants to reunite with his parents, after parental rights have been terminated. The GAL may testify that the parents have failed subsequent drug testing and the child should therefore not be reunited. Understand the difference?”

“Yes. So how does that apply to this case?”

“This is a list of the Child Advocates who are on rotation for Judge Green.” John waved at his laptop screen. “A lot of lawyers would wait for Judge Green to appoint one and that would mean a second shelter care hearing. But that's not how I do it. I want
one
effective shelter care hearing that goes my way, not a series of hearings that may or may not result in the adjudication I want.”

“I agree.” Mary was loving how methodical and precise he sounded, albeit still aggressive. “So bottom line, you're getting Patrick a lawyer?”

“Exactly. Look.” John pointed to the first name on the list. “This is Abby Ortega, and she's up next in the rotation. I know her well. She's smart and she cares. I'm going to call her, give her the heads-up, and ask her to go see Patrick this weekend at his foster family's, interview him, and get to know him.”

“She can do that?” Mary felt reassured to know that somebody would be checking on Patrick because she had been worrying about him.

“Family law is twenty-four/seven, Mary. Even the courthouse is open on Sundays.”

“Really.” Mary had never heard of a courthouse open on Sunday.

“Protection from abuse orders and child abuse cases are heard around the clock. There are custody orders that provide only supervised visits, and those are held in the courthouse on Sunday. If you're on the fifth floor of the courthouse on a Sunday, you might think you're at nursery school.”

“That's sad.”

“I know. To return to point, I'm going to call Abby and have her go see Patrick. Let's hope she agrees with us. That will shore up our case because it buttresses your testimony. It won't be only your word that Patrick wants to live with you.”

“Terrific.” Mary thought a minute. “What about a
guardian ad litem?
Are we going to call one of those, too?”

“No.” John shook his head. “I don't think we'll need one. If Abby goes our way, a GAL will be cumulative. But I do want another witness. An expert.” John returned to his laptop, opening files. “Patrick is having psychological issues, and I think we need an independent psychiatrist to meet with him.”

“I have a list that I use as experts in special ed matters. Should I call one of them?”

“No, it's better if we use an expert known to Green and who testifies in Family Court all the time.” John stopped hitting buttons. “This is a list of my go-to psychiatric experts. I can arrange one of them to visit Patrick this weekend, too. They won't be able to do a full evaluation, but they can give an expert opinion.” John looked up, with a wink. “They'll help us win, if they agree with us.”

“That's so great, John!” Mary threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug.

“Oh, you're a hugger.” John chuckled, righting his glasses, which had gone awry. “Why am I not surprised.”

“I really mean it, thank you so much!” Mary felt her throat thicken. “It's not that you're helping me, it's that you're helping Patrick.”

“I get it. Go sit down.” John returned to his computer. “We'll have to work this weekend. I want you to get started on the paperwork while I make the phone calls. Please, turn around, open that first accordion on the credenza, and grab the book in front.”

“On it!” Mary grabbed the accordion and pulled out the contents, which turned out to be a Xeroxed
Bench Manual in Dependency Proceedings,
and she followed John's directions, reading the rules and making notes so they could prepare the papers they needed to file. John started making the phone calls, and the two lawyers worked together all day, drafting the papers and getting them ready for filing.

The sky began to change outside John's office window, and at the end of the day, Mary checked her watch—7:15, so it was time to go home. She and John walked out together, then they parted ways. She hurried to the garage to get her car, feeling her anxiety catch up with her. She was going to become a guardian of a child that Anthony didn't even know existed. She knew he would come around in time, but it would be a shock.

Mary got her car and steered home through the city, gripping the wheel tight.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mary unlocked the front door to Anthony's roller bag and backpack in the entrance hall. The mail had been stacked neatly on the console table, and she could hear him humming in the kitchen. She set her purse and messenger bag down on the floor, wishing she had time to shower and change before she saw him. Her contacts were probably fusing to her corneas, but blindness was a small price to pay to look good when she asked him to take in a child he'd never met.

“Hey honey!” Mary finger-combed her hair as she passed the dining room table, surprised to see that it had been set for a romantic dinner, including candles and a fragrant bouquet of red roses.

“Babe!” Anthony came out of the kitchen grinning, his long arms outstretched, and Mary felt her heart lift at the sight of him, so familiar in his white oxford shirt and Dockers.

“I'm so happy to see you!” Mary buried her face in his chest, feeling the familiar sensation of his body against hers. He wasn't that tall, just shy of six feet, but they fit each other like those stuffed toys sold on Valentine's Day, their arms wrapped around each other and their hands felt Velcroed together.

“I missed you, I missed
this,
” Anthony whispered into her ear, then kissed her forehead, her cheek, and her mouth, gently, and Mary kissed him back, matching his gentleness, feeling their love connecting them, at the most physical and elemental level between man and woman.

“I missed that too.” Mary kissed him one last time, then looking up at him. “I can't believe you went to all this trouble, roses and everything? That's so sweet.”

“Wait'll you see what's for dinner.” Anthony took her hand and led her into the kitchen, which smelled deliciously of olive oil and garlic.

The kitchen was one of the reasons that Mary had wanted to buy the house, because it was large and newly renovated, ringed with white paneled cabinets and glistening black granite counters. An arched window over the sink overlooked a small flagstone backyard, and all of the appliances were top-of-the-line. Two wineglasses sat on the island next to a bottle of open Pinot Grigio, and on the stovetop rested a heavy skillet mounded with fresh broccoli rabe, ready to be sautéed, and on another burner was a skillet of chopped fresh tomatoes, fennel, capers, onions, and garlic, already cooking. Anthony was making their favorite topping for filleted bream, probably already in the oven.

“How did you get the time to do all this?” Mary asked, delighted.

“The plane got in early.” Anthony grinned at her, and Mary smiled back, her gaze taking in his handsome features. He had large, dark brown eyes that were the exact hue of espresso and crow's-feet that crinkled when he smiled. His hair was thick, dark, and wavy, and his nose was long and Roman, on the large size for anybody but Italian-Americans.

“So did you have fun out there?” Mary didn't want to bring up the subject of Patrick yet. She would have to wait for the right moment, preferably after Anthony had downed a few glasses of wine.

“It was great!” Anthony turned the dial on the oven to get the fish cooking. “The people, the setting, the department. It was all great.”

“That's wonderful.”

“Wine?” Anthony asked, reading her mind. “I put yours in the fridge. I'm having the white.”

“Yes, thanks.” Mary started toward the refrigerator, but Anthony beat her to the punch, opening the refrigerator door and holding high a bottle of her favorite Lambrusco.

“Ta-da! We had one left.”

Mary chuckled, amused at his high spirits. His nature was typically upbeat but tonight he seemed unusually energized. Or maybe she was just exhausted by comparison.

“My mother told me about the debacle at the hair salon.” Anthony took a dish towel from the rack, wrapped it around the top of the Lambrusco bottle, then pried off the cork with a satisfying
pop
.

“She's not mad, is she?” Mary hadn't thought twice about the incident at the hair salon, and everything with Patrick had shooed it from her mind.

“No, not at all.” Anthony poured the cold Lambrusco into a wineglass, where it bubbled, then slid the glass toward Mary. “Is your mother upset?”

“No, she's fine. I ate to calm her down.”

“Ah.” Anthony smiled, understanding what Mary meant without her having to explain, which was another thing that she loved about him. They came from the same neighborhood, both literally and figuratively.

“What did your mom say on the phone?”

“Just that your mom wanted to leave. I'm sorry if my mom terrorized her. We know she has the finesse of a blunt object.”

Mary chuckled, but didn't comment. She always let Anthony criticize El Virus, but never did so herself. It was the first rule of Italian families. Nobody disses blood, but blood.

“Hold on, she sent a picture.” Anthony poured more wine into his glass, then slipped his hand into his pocket, and pulled out his phone, thumbing the screen. “Didn't you see it? She copied you on the email.”

“No, I haven't had a chance to check my email.” Mary was woefully behind on her other cases, but she assumed she could catch up later. Photos from El Virus weren't among the priorities.

“Here we go.” Anthony showed her the photo, and Mary tried not to laugh out loud. It was El Virus in full makeup, and her perm had gained ten pounds of curly extensions, which matched her new curly false eyelashes. She was making duck lips that looked better on Kim Kardashian. Or ducks.

“Gee, wow, uh, she looks…”

“… certifiably insane?”

Mary chuckled. “Be grateful for small favors. She could have sent you a picture of her Brazilian.”

“
What?
” Anthony's eyes flew open, and he laughed out loud, throwing back his head. “I don't want to know that!”

Mary joined him laughing. “Neither do I. See what you've been missing?”

Anthony picked up his wineglass. “I propose a toast.”

“Great idea.” Mary picked up her glass and held it up. The sooner she got Anthony drinking, the better. “To what?”

“To a long and happy marriage,” Anthony said, looking at her, his dark eyes shining.

“Aww, I'll drink to that.” Mary sipped her wine, which tasted chilly and deliciously fruity. “I love Lambrusco. It hits the spot, every time.”

Anthony sipped his wine. “I had some great wines in LA.”

“Fill me in. But don't make me feel bad about my humble Lambrusco.”

“One of the guys in the department grew up in Sacramento, and he's an expert in California wines. He said we should take a vineyard tour in Sonoma. It sounds like fun. Would you like to do that?”

“Someday.” Mary didn't see a lot of vineyard trips in their future, with Patrick.

Anthony eyed her, his expression suddenly serious over the delicate rim of his wineglass. “We could do it sooner rather than later, if we wanted to.”

“I don't know about that, honey.” Mary took another sip of wine, for liquid courage. She couldn't hold out much longer. The right moment was coming sooner than she would've liked, since neither of them was drunk.

“I know this sounds crazy, but we could do it as early as next week, if you could get free of work. And the airfare would be free.”

“What are you talking about, free airfare?”

“There's something I need to talk to you about.” Anthony's expression changed, his smile flattening. He set down his wineglass on the granite with a
clink
. “I have great news, but it's the kind of news that takes some getting used to.”

“Really?” Mary thought he was kidding, since it was so coincidental. “Actually, I have great news too, but it's also the kind of news that takes getting used to.”

“Really.” Anthony lifted an eyebrow. “Let me go first. I may have a job offer at UCLA, and they're flying me back for more interviews, tomorrow.”

“
What?
”

“It's an amazing offer for a full-time position, an assistant professor in the department on tenure track.” Anthony met her gaze, his face alive with excitement. “It's what I've been waiting for, what I've been hoping for. I could finally earn a decent living, and it's a great department.”

Mary's mouth went dry. “But it's at UCLA.”

“Yes.” Anthony pursed his lips. “We would have to move.”

“From Philadelphia?” Mary heard the incredulous note in her own voice.

“There are other towns in the United States, honey.”

“But not for us, not for me.” Mary couldn't believe what he was saying. Suddenly she realized why he'd made the romantic dinner, brought the pretty roses, and cooked their favorite meal. “My family's here, my firm's here. We just bought this house.”

“I know that.” Anthony placed his hand over hers, his eyes pleading. “But people move away from where they grow up.”