Medicine Wheel (17 page)

“You can meet with the Judge. You and I have already talked, and I can assure you that it’s just a matter of coming to terms. You will have the Judge eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“The Judge. That’s the term the children use to reference your father, but you don’t really call him that in direct conversation with him, do you?”

“You seem to know more about the Lockes than we know about you.”

“It depends on the Locke.” She smiled wistfully.

“You said you met my brother, Thad. When did you do that, may I ask?”

“A long time ago, more than ten years. I injured my ankle, and he patched it up and gave me a ride home.”

“That’s Thad alright. Always looking after injured strays.” He had a feeling there was more to this story, but it wasn’t his business.

“Anyway, after I meet with your father, I would like to confer with the client. I will inform you of my decision after I have met with her. When do you expect the trial to commence?”

“Monday, the week after next. The evidence is pretty straightforward. I’d say a day to empanel a jury. Two or three days trial . . . and then the wait for a verdict.”

“This is Saturday. That would allow almost two weeks to prepare . . . if I take this on. Not much time, but it would allow me to get back to Washington sooner, and I assume you’ve laid most of the groundwork.”

37

M
YLES
L
OCKE
HAD
been forewarned by Cam that Serena Belmont would quickly overpower him with her forthrightness, charm and verbal skills. He knew that Serena had leaped over any barriers when Reva nodded approvingly as she showed the young woman into Myles’s private office.

The young lady sitting across the desk from him was self-assured and confident and did not seem the least nervous. On the other hand, why should someone who had argued cases before the highest court in the land be intimidated by an old, worn-out country lawyer?

“Well, Miss Belmont,” Myles said, “your reputation precedes you. I must tell you that you made quite an impression on Cam.”

“Thank you, and, please, call me ‘Serena.’”

“Very well. And I’m ‘Myles’”

“That doesn’t seem right somehow.”

“Why? Because I’m an old codger?” He chuckled.

“No, no. It just seems disrespectful. You’re not old . . . you’re distinguished.”

“Distinguished? Now I like that. Try to convince Cam . . . especially about the respect part. Call me what you are comfortable with. Anyway, let’s talk about the position. Why you wish to associate with our firm ordinarily would not be my concern, but given your credentials and current position, your interest baffles me.”

“Your office is highly respected by other lawyers and judges in the state. I’ve made inquiries.”

“That’s nice to hear, but you obviously thrive in the courtroom. I have an office practice . . . business, real estate, wills, estate settlements and that sort of thing. Cam has an active trial practice, but the consistent bread and butter is on my side of the practice, and given my age, we are probably under more pressure to find a potential successor for me.”

“Cam says you’ll be here at your desk when you’re ninety, and that you still work him into the ground.”

Myles shook his head from side to side. “Cam refuses to accept my mortality, because his greatest fear is that if I drop dead he’ll be stuck behind a desk . . . and there’s not much of an audience there. But seriously, Serena, we’d love to have you join us if we can reach financial terms.”

“I would like to be paid fifty percent of my gross collected billings. The rest goes to overhead you and your partner split . . . I wouldn’t share in that, of course. I’ll have to give up my full-time position with the Bill of Rights Society, but I think they would keep me on their speakers’ bureau and would refer selected cases. Any fees from these sources would be shared with the firm the same way.”
 

“You’re more than fair. The way you present it, we have absolutely nothing to lose by taking you on, and, if it works out for all of us, we can look at partnership later. Of course, we’d be honored to have you associate with our firm. When do you think you would be able to start?”

“Six to eight months. I have to wind down my affairs and pending cases with the Society. Of course, I may help Cam with one case immediately, depending on the outcome of my meeting with his client. I’m not committed yet.”

“That’s what Cam told me. It’s your decision, and it has no bearing on the agreement we just made.”

“Thank you. But we have not reached a final agreement yet. There is more you are entitled to know, before you make a final decision . . . and, if you are willing, I need your help as an attorney.”
 

“This is growing very mysterious.”

“I will solve the mystery for you quickly. First, I must inform you that I have an illness.”

He noticed that her composure was crumbling a bit, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Tell me what you wish. I’m listening.”

“For nearly two years now, have been having what I call ‘spells’ where I will have a week, sometimes two, of nausea, occasionally followed by vomiting. I have a raging fever during these spells and have lost consciousness a few times. Severe headaches are often a warning of a forthcoming siege. I pretty much force myself to eat most of the time, but I will feel quite well for several months following a spell . . . until it strikes again.”

“And you’ve seen a physician?”

“Four of them now. They can’t tell me anything. Several have diagnosed it as consumption and told me there is no cure. One told me I could live many years with this and that it might just suddenly go away one day. That’s what I would like to believe, of course.”

“Understandably.”

“I am often tired, but I can usually put in a good day’s work. I have to manage my time carefully, though, and allocate my energy where it’s most needed. This is why I wouldn’t commit to Cam’s client. I have to decide if this is a person I am willing to devote my time and energy to.”

“None of this makes any difference to your position here. You would control your own workload, and the firm is not affected financially if you choose to work less. I fully understand now why you need to give up your current position. We can hope that a more manageable work schedule would speed up your recovery. Regardless, it would be good for you to be near your family.”

He could see the tension rising in her as they spoke. Her hands were trembling now. His heart went out to the young woman.

“There is something else,” she said. “And I am afraid you are going to hate me for this. I am taking a terrible risk in telling you, and I can only beg you not to repeat it until you have helped me work out a way to deal with my dilemma.”

She was falling apart in front of him. “Trust me,” he said.

She bit her lip and then suddenly blurted, “I have a son. His name is Edward Thaddeus Locke. Thad is his father, but Thad doesn’t know about him.”

Serena had certainly captured his undivided attention. It took him several moments to sort out her words. Serena Belmont was the mother of his grandson. “Okay, that was quite a mouthful of information, and I must confess I’m having a little trouble carrying my part of our conversation. Let’s just unwind this slowly. Thad is the father of your child. How old is the boy . . . Edward?”

“Ned, I call him ‘Ned,’” she replied, her lips quivering. “He’s almost ten. He was born April 20, 1875, a few weeks early, I think, but he’s big for his age now.” She looked up and met his eyes, showing faint traces of a smile. “And he’s smart as a whip.”

“That doesn’t surprise me somehow. So, if my math skills serve me correctly, you . . . uh, encountered Thad in the summer of 1874.”

“I was visiting my parents for the summer. I let it slip to Cam that I had known Thad. I told Cam I had injured my ankle when I was running, and Thad came along and rescued me, so to speak. That much is true. That’s all Cam knows. But after that Thad and I became friends and fell in love . . . or thought we did. Thad wanted me to marry him, but I decided I wanted more than that. I wanted my education, and more than anything else, I dreamed of being a lawyer. I know I hurt him deeply when I left. I didn’t know about the baby at that time, of course.”

“And Thad never had a clue?”

“No, I planned to tell him after the baby was born, but I lived with my aunt, and she helped me care for him. The way I looked at it, Thad would just complicate things. I knew what I wanted. He’d insist on getting married, and if I wouldn’t, he would have moved to Washington so he could be a part of Ned’s life. Am I wrong?”

“No, it sounds like you did know Thad. His middle name should have been ‘Responsible.’ Still, don’t you think he was entitled to know . . . to make his own decision?”

“Yes, I was wrong. I always knew that. My mother told me I was wrong and once threatened to tell Thad, before she decided it wasn’t her place. I kept telling myself I would tell him next year, and next year would arrive, and I’d say next year. Well, I guess next year is here.”

“It appears so.”

“My health problems made me realize that Ned needs to know his father, and that I need to be near my family for his sake. My aunt’s health is frail, and if something happens to me, she won’t be able to care for Ned. It’s time for him to see another way of life.”

“So when do you plan to tell Thad?”

“Before I return to Washington, but if I choose to help Cam with the trial, I’ll wait till that’s over. Neither Thad nor I need the additional turmoil the news would bring in the middle of a trial.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

“Can you help me with legal arrangements for Ned, just in case—“ He could see she was struggling with her composure, and he got out of his chair and walked around to the other side of the desk. She looked up at him, and he stretched out his arms. She rose and buried her head in his chest as his arms folded about her and held her close until her tears stopped flowing. Finally, she stepped back, but his hands still gently clasped her shoulders. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

“My bags are in your reception area. I have to find a hotel yet. Papa gave me the name of one that welcomes colored folks. My parents wanted me to go out to their place, but I want to meet with Cam’s client early in the morning, and I thought it would be easier if I stayed in town. I promised I would visit at the farm Sunday and decide on accommodations then. If I’m working on the case, though, I won’t stay there. I will need to be near the office and the client.”

“Forget the hotel. You’ll stay at my home while you’re here. We have several spare bedrooms. I have a . . . uh, housekeeper, Vedette Joliet, and the two of you will get along famously, I promise. She’s very wise, and I hope you will let me share the story of our little dilemma with her. We all need to talk this out together. We can discuss your legal concerns after you’ve settled in.”

38

S
ERENA
FELT
BETTER
this morning than she had for weeks. Maybe there was something in the clean Kansas air that would heal her ailing body. It was a nice thought, although she did not believe it for a moment. But she had found some peace last night, gathered into the bosom of Myles Locke’s modest home, and it felt right. She had loved Vedette instantly and had been surprised to find she was a colored woman like herself. Vedette’s skin might have been a shade darker than her own, but they shared the sense of dislocation that went with being not quite light-skinned enough for those whites who cared and not black enough to avoid suspicion by some darker skinned persons with whom they shared the arbitrary designation of “colored” or “Negro.”

The easy rapport between Vedette and Myles Locke quickly made it clear they were not employer and employee. It was very unlikely an ordinary housekeeper would share her boss’s bed with a guest settled in the house. It was obvious these two were friends and lovers, and, as Vedette told Serena, they had shared the home for some twenty-five years. Was this why Myles seemed so unfazed by the information his son had fathered a child with a colored woman? She decided it had more to do with the fact that Myles Locke always expected the unexpected. And the Judge was not a judgmental man. It didn’t matter to her. She was totally comfortable staying with Myles and Vedette. Myles had even told her she was family now, since she was the mother of his grandson. That had brought her nearly to tears again.

It was Tuesday, and Myles was already at work. Vedette was acquainted with Serena’s mother, Rachael, and had offered to take Serena out to her parents’ farm in the buggy this afternoon and support her in explaining the need to stay in town during the course of the trial—if Serena decided to participate. That would be known before they left Manhattan.

Vedette had shopping to attend to this morning and had dropped Serena off at the office, where she had agreed to meet Cam. While she waited, Myles led her to a vacant office furnished only with a small oak desk and a straight-backed chair. “We’ll have more suitable furnishings in place when you return from Washington,” he assured her.

“I just need a place to work. Truly, I don’t require anything fancy.”

“Fancy won’t happen, but Reva will delight in digging up functional.”

He also showed her the small, narrow library, its walls lined from floor to ceiling with law books. A rectangular table surrounded by half a dozen chairs stood in the room’s center. “This room doubles as a conference or meeting area,” he explained.

Cam arrived and she joined him on a brisk walk to the jail. She found her breathing a bit labored and remembered those days when she raced through the Flint Hills without so much as a pause to catch her breath.

As they arrived at the jailhouse, Cam said, “I’m going to introduce you to Kirsten . . . she’s expecting you . . . and then I’m going to get the hell out. You need to talk woman to woman.”

“I would like that.”

“I’m going to go back to the office and look at the jury pool list. Reva sneaked one from the court clerk yesterday afternoon.”

“Is that ethical?”

“You can bet the county attorney’s got his greasy paws on it already. Anyway, I want the Judge to take a gander at it. He knows everybody in Riley County. We’ll all talk about the prospective jurors the first of the week . . . assuming you’re with us on this.”