Karolina's Twins (31 page)

“That's what Karolina did with her dog, Madeleine. Abandoned him in a field.”

Catherine nodded. “Rather than turn him over to the Nazis to be killed. You're right. Lena told me that Karolina went into a dazed state and mumbled ‘Madeleine' before she abandoned her babies. Now you're getting it.”

“I don't know if I'm getting it. She didn't abandon them, she threw them out of a window of a moving train.”

“Will you stop saying that?”

“No, follow me here. Karolina throws the babies out of a train window in 1943 somewhere in rural Poland. For whatever reason, Lena feels compelled to find them, but she waits seventy years before hiring me. Do I have that right?”

“No. Lena threw one of the babies herself. She bears the guilt. And she promised Karolina she'd come back and find them and tell them that they were loved and not abandoned. She swore to God.”

“Where was the train when they threw the babies?”

Catherine shook her head. “She doesn't know. Somewhere between Chrzanów and Gross-Rosen, which is now Rogoznica, Poland. A few hundred miles.”

Liam threw his hands up. “A few hundred miles? And why now? Lena survived. She could have looked for them in 1945 at the end of the war. And anytime thereafter. And what happened to Karolina?”

“I don't know yet what happened to Karolina, but my guess is that she didn't make it. As to why she's so compelled to find them now—that's the jackpot question. There's a reason, Liam. That's the undisclosed secret I'm always talking about.”

Liam shook his head. “Without some kind of proof of her story, you're going to have a hell of a time defeating Arthur. Maybe she's not delusional, but I certainly think Lena evidences signs of an obsessive behavior disorder. Didn't the doctor tell you that it could be a psychological disorder if it consumes one's life?”

Catherine nodded. “Yes.”

“What are you going to do tomorrow morning before Judge Peterson?” Liam asked.

“I'm going to stand my ground. He has no right to force me to reveal client confidences.”

“Lena wouldn't waive them?”

“I wouldn't ask her. She's on the up-and-up, Liam. I know it.”

Liam closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don't know how she expects me to find those kids. Even if her story's all true. Without proof, it's an unwinnable defense. This case could wind up as a disaster for Lena. And what makes it all the worse is that you're preparing to go to jail.”

“I know you're upset, but don't give up. Please. See if you can find out anything about a woman named Muriel Bernstein. She was a student nurse in Kraków in 1939 and was on the transport to Gross-Rosen. She was sitting with them. Also, see if you can find a family named Schultz in Regensburg, Germany. That may be where the babies ended up. That was Siegfried's family name. Either one of those people could corroborate Lena's story.”

“Siegfried? Like the opera? There must be a million Siegfrieds in Germany. And Schultz? Could he have a more common last name? That's like tracking down a man named Smith in America. Not to mention that Muriel Bernstein is a pretty common name as well.”

“Too hard for the great Taggart?”

“I didn't say that.”

 

T
HIRTY-SIX

C
ATHERINE TOSSED AND TURNED
all night and finally rose before sunrise. Liam was brewing a pot of coffee when she entered the kitchen.

“Sorry to wake you. I couldn't sleep last night,” she said.

“I noticed. What's in your hand?”

“It's an overnight bag. A toothbrush, some toiletries. My medicine.”

“Seriously? Cat, I can't let you do this. You're a high-risk pregnant woman. You are not going to spend time in the nasty confines of the Cook County Jail.”

“First of all, I'm not high risk. Second, it's not a decision for you to make. I'm meeting Walter at seven-thirty. He still believes that Peterson will back down. Walter can't remember the last time they locked up a lawyer for refusing to reveal a confidence. Anyway, he's sure that it won't stand up on appeal.”

“An appeal could take weeks, even months.”

“Liam, why are we arguing about this? You're not telling me anything I don't know. I understand that you're worried, and I'm sorry to cause you stress, but I really believe in what I'm doing and I need you to support me.”

She put her arms around his neck. “This might be the most important thing I've ever done. People like Lena, they had more courage in their little fingers than I'll ever have. I'm standing up for what I believe. I have to do my part, and if protecting her means confronting Judge Peterson, then I'm going to do it. I won't give Arthur the ammunition to take away Lena's independence and put her in a home. She will not be locked up again.”

*   *   *

A
S BEFORE, JUDGE PETERSON'S
courtroom was standing-room only when Walter and Catherine entered. Earlier that morning she stood before her closet trying to decide on her outfit for judgment day. What does one wear to go to jail? She finally selected her navy suit, a white blouse and a red, white and blue silk scarf. Very American. No jewelry.

She and Walter had met that morning. She told him not to play the pregnancy card. She didn't want mercy, she wanted justice.

“We need to make a clear record this morning,” Walter had said. “If we're going to ask the appellate court for an expedited review, we need to put it all on the record.”

“Do you think he'll actually lock me up?”

“Yes, I do. Shirley has skillfully backed Peterson into a corner. He won't hesitate unless you consent to follow his order.”

“Well, that's not going to happen. Let's go.”

Catherine and Walter took their seats at counsel table. Across the room, Arthur sat next to Shirley. An arrogant grin stretched across Arthur's face, as if to say, “You're about to get yours.” He tried to catch Catherine's attention and lock eyes, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Liam sat in the front row, wishing it were possible to resolve the dispute by knocking Arthur into next week.

The corner door opened, the crowd hushed and Judge Peterson followed his court personnel into the room, the duck behind the ducklings. “All rise.” Catherine stood tall and confident. Arthur leaned forward and craned his neck trying to catch her attention. His pompous smile never left his lips.

“Case number 13 P 6268,
In re: the Guardianship of Lena Woodward,
continued by previous court order for status,” announced the clerk.

Walter, Catherine, Shirley and Arthur rose and approached the bench. The judge motioned for the overflow courtroom to be seated. In a quiet voice, he said, “The record will show that this matter has been continued by me for a third time to allow Ms. Lockhart to bring herself within compliance of this court's orders, which heretofore she has intentionally resisted. Since she is represented, I will address my remarks to Mr. Jenkins. Does Ms. Lockhart understand the terms of my order?”

“She does, Your Honor.”

“Does she have any questions at all about what this court requires of her?”

“She does not, Your Honor.”

The judge took off his reading glasses. He leaned forward. “It is not my desire to sanction anyone, especially such a committed attorney as Ms. Lockhart, but I have a duty, a responsibility as a probate judge, to protect the elderly members of our society who come before me. Does Ms. Lockhart understand that?”

“She understands what you articulate as your duty.”

“So that my record is absolutely clear, the petitioner, Arthur Woodward, has, under oath, alleged that his mother, Lena Woodward, is a disabled adult by reason of her senile dementia. Specifically, he has asserted that her mental state has deteriorated to the point where she now suffers from an obsessive-compulsive disorder to locate people who do not exist and who never did exist.” He turned to Shirley. “Is that essentially correct, Mr. Shirley?”

Arthur vigorously nodded his head up and down, stepped in front of his attorney and interjected, “That's right, Your Honor. She's got some crazy delusion that a woman named Karolina had two girls during the war and that she's got to go find them. Ridiculous. And this lawyer here, Lockhart, is leading her on, trying to get her hands on all my mother's money.”

Judge Peterson slammed his gavel. “I did not address you, sir. I addressed your attorney. When I want you to speak, I'll let you know. Right now, you turn around, go back to counsel table, take a seat and keep quiet.” Arthur tilted forward to look at Catherine, put a satisfied grin on his face, turned and strutted to counsel table.

Shirley answered the judge's question by saying, “Your Honor is correct in briefly summarizing the allegations of the petition. We are concerned about the conflicting position in which Ms. Lockhart has placed herself.”

The judge nodded. “As am I. Mr. Jenkins, Ms. Lockhart herself has stated in open court that she is representing the alleged disabled person in a matter separate and distinct from this probate case. It may very well be an entirely proper representation. But the petitioner has alleged otherwise. It is my responsibility as a probate judge to inquire. It is also my judgment that by entering an appearance on behalf of Mrs. Woodward in this probate case, and by declaring to me in open court that she does represent Mrs. Woodward in a secondary matter, Ms. Lockhart has thrust herself into this controversy. If there is nothing untoward about the attorney-client relationship in the secondary matter, then let her tell me and this proceeding is over.”

Walter turned to face Catherine, who shook her head. “Your Honor,” Walter said, “divulging the information you seek would require her to betray the confidence that Mrs. Woodward has justifiably placed in the sanctity of the attorney-client relationship. It would broadcast to the public that private, privileged communications from a client to an attorney are confidential and protected from disclosure only until some judge or litigant decides he wants to know them. Ms. Lockhart intends to stand firm and is quite certain that the appellate court will see it that way as well.”

“Well, she's going to get a chance to find out. Ms. Lockhart, I put it to you one last time. Will you comply with this court's order and advise me fully about the subject matter of your representation of Mrs. Woodward in the separate matter?”

“No, sir, I will not.”

“Then you have left me with no choice. Given my responsibility to Mrs. Woodward, the alleged disabled person, I hereby confirm my finding of direct contempt and remand you to the custody of the Cook County sheriff to be held in the Cook County Jail, from day to day, from week to week, until you are prepared…”

“You'll do no such thing,” bellowed a voice from the back of the courtroom. A tall woman, with glaring eyes and a determined look on her face, pushed back the swinging gate and with the assistance of her cane confidently strode directly toward the bench.

“Lena!” Catherine said.

“Who is this woman?” Judge Peterson demanded.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” Arthur said, popping to his feet.

Lena turned and stiffly pointed at her son. “Arthur, sit down and shut up.” Which he did.

Shirley was startled. “Apparently, she is the respondent, Lena Woodward, Your Honor.”

“That's correct. I'm Lena Scheinman Woodward, and the accusations of my irresponsible son are pure poppycock.”

The judge raised his eyebrows. “Any layperson who comes before me to testify must be sworn in.”

“She's not here to testify, Your Honor,” Catherine said. “Lena, you're not required to say one word.”

“I'm not going to let you go to jail. That's my choice, not yours. I'll answer any questions this judge wants to know. I have nothing to hide.”

Judge Peterson looked to Catherine. “She's apparently overruled you.”

Lena raised her hand and swore to tell the truth.

“Is Catherine Lockhart your attorney in this probate matter?”

“Yes.”

“Is she also your attorney in another matter?”

Lena paused. She tilted her head this way and that. “I believe that's a technical question. I have not signed any papers. I have not formally engaged her. I haven't paid her any money. But I consider her to be my attorney. I've sat in her office for several days and talked her ears off. She's a very good listener.”

The judge wrinkled his forehead. “And you haven't paid her? Have you agreed to pay her anything?”

Lena shook her head. “No, we've never even discussed fees, but if I had, don't you think that's my business and not Arthur's? I'm taking up quite a bit of this attorney's valuable time. Why should I expect her to work for free?”

“Can you tell me what these talking sessions are all about? Without disclosing the actual conversations, can you tell me, in general, what is the subject matter of your discussions? And before you answer, I will give you time to consult with Ms. Lockhart or Mr. Jenkins.”

“I don't need time.”

“You don't have to answer those questions,” Catherine said. “And I advise you not to. He could ask follow-up questions. Once you open the door, you can't limit his inquiry.”

“I understand that. It's okay. I'm proud of what I'm doing.” Lena looked directly into the eyes of Judge Peterson. “In 1943, on a Nazi transport train to the Gross-Rosen concentration camp, two beautiful little girls were abandoned and lost. Intentionally. It was my fault. I take the responsibility for the decision to abandon them in an effort to save them from certain death at the hands of the Nazis. When we did that, I gave my solemn promise to go back and try to find them. They may not be alive, Your Honor. I know that. But they did exist and I held those babies in my arms. After all these years, I've finally found the courage to fulfill that promise. I can't do it alone. I've asked Catherine Lockhart and her husband to help me. Have I done something illegal?”