One Good Turn (18 page)

“That’s just it, though,” Luke argued. “I don’t think she’s recovered. On the surface, maybe, but deep down...” He couldn’t expect Taylor to understand, but he tried to explain anyway. “I knew her before,” he said. “I knew what she was. Something is missing inside her, Taylor, something isn’t quite right. If only I could make it better, whatever it is...”

“And then what?”

“And then,” Luke insisted, “I would kiss her good-bye. I’m not looking to relive my past. God knows my present is a hell of a lot better than my past ever was. If I were interested in a romance it wouldn’t be with Jenny. I just want to help her out.”

Taylor eyed him skeptically. “So help me, if she does another number on you—”

Luke shook his head. “She can’t. I’m a lot stronger now than I was seven years ago.”

Taylor stared at him a moment longer and his doubt melted. “That you are. I just hope you’re strong enough to realize that sometimes some people don’t want to be saved.” He stood, gathered up his shoes and socks, and scaled the steps to the boardwalk. “Do me a favor and don’t try to save her life at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. My broker has a property to show me over in West Yarmouth—fully operational. The owner wants to retire and he wants to sell the place as a working establishment. You might want to come along.”

“Three o’clock. Sure.” Rising from the step, Luke dusted the sand from his slacks and followed Taylor into the house. He would be able to sleep now. He was imbued with a sense of purpose and commitment. Whatever had left him so unsettled about Jenny, he was going to fix it. He was going to slay her demons, just as she’d once slain his. He was going to heal her.

It had nothing to do with love, he assured himself as he secured the deck door behind him. It had nothing to do with the fact that, despite the anguish she’d been through, despite the scars she claimed to have, Jenny was still the most exciting, spirited, enchanting woman he’d ever known. It had nothing to do with his failure, in seven years, to forge a relationship with another woman comparable to what he’d had with her.

She wasn’t the Jenny Perrin he had loved. Her hair was short and her naivete was gone. It wasn’t love.

It was only fairness, he swore to himself. It was only doing for her what she’d done for him, one good turn deserving another. It was only a matter of compassion—something Luke had had too little of until Jenny had entered his life and unlocked his heart.

BY THE TIME
Luke arrived at the courtroom the following morning, the remainder of the jury had already been impaneled. He slipped inconspicuously into a vacant seat at the rear of the courtroom and peered through the thicket of heads in front of him, searching for Jenny. She must have been sitting, because he couldn’t see her.

The judge signaled the defense attorney, a debonair middle-aged man in an expensive-looking gray suit. He stood, nodded deferentially to the judge, and then stepped around the defense table to address the jurors. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the first thing I always like to remind a jury in a criminal trial is the law of the land, and the law states that a person is innocent unless the prosecutor can prove his guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. What that means is that if there is any doubt in your minds as to whether Matthew Sullivan is guilty of the charge of rape which has been brought against him, you must find him not guilty.

“However, there won’t be a shred of doubt in your mind. By the end of this trial, you will be positive that my client is innocent.”

He went on in a smooth, urbane tone, reminding the jury that Matthew Sullivan could be their brother, their nephew, their cousin or their son. The attorney talked about the way young ladies didn’t always know what they wanted, and the way they sent out mixed signals. He talked about how Trisha Vincent and Matthew Sullivan had dated each other, and how Trisha’s love for Matthew had apparently led her to go further sexually than she might have intended, but that didn’t mean Matthew had raped her. The attorney talked about college life, and about how long Trisha and Matthew had known each other, and about how heartbroken his client was at having his former girlfriend bring such a charge against him.

“This trial is not about a crime. It is about a confused young girl and a decent, law-abiding young man. I know that once you’ve heard all the testimony, you will recognize that what we have here is a lover’s spat blown way out of proportion.”

The lawyer returned to his table and sat. Luke again craned his neck, and this time he was rewarded by the sight of Jenny rising from her chair and stepping forward. At first he could see her only from the back—her proud posture, her neatly arranged hair, her stylish belted blazer over a conservatively cut skirt. “Your honor,” she said in a crisp, assured voice as she acknowledged the judge. Then, turning to the jury, “Ladies and gentlemen, this trial is not about a lover’s spat. It’s about a single word. That word is
no
.

“The facts in this case are uncontested. Testimony will bear out that Trisha Vincent and Matthew Sullivan were classmates at Tufts University and that they dated. It will bear out that on the night of October 14th Ms. Vincent and Mr. Sullivan went to a movie and then returned to Mr. Sullivan’s dormitory room. It will bear out that Mr. Sullivan tried to seduce Ms. Vincent, and that she said no.

“The law states that if a man forces a woman to engage in a sexual act against her will, he is committing the crime of rape. Trisha Vincent clearly expressed her will. She said
no
. What Matthew Sullivan did was rape her.”

Then Jenny returned to the prosecution table and sat down.

Luke let out a slow breath. He had been expecting a longer opening argument from Jenny—an eloquent recitation on a par with the defense attorney’s. That she was so brief and direct took him by surprise, the way one might be stunned by a quick slap when one was expecting a verbal dressing down. Her ploy was startling—and incredibly effective.

Damn. She was good at this.

He wondered why he should be surprised. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t totally relinquished his memory of the gentle, kindhearted woman he used to know. To be a successful litigator required an edge, a certain ruthlessness that Jenny hadn’t displayed before.

Maybe it wasn’t ruthlessness. Maybe it was the same passion for justice she’d exhibited when he’d known her seven years ago. Maybe she was just as committed to helping others today as she’d been then, except that instead of helping street bums she was now helping crime victims. Maybe she was the same old Jenny, after all.

No. The woman Luke had known in Washington could brighten the universe with her smile. This new woman couldn’t even brighten her own eyes with a smile. During lunch the previous day, he’d noticed the enigmatic shadows darkening her pretty hazel eyes even when she’d been laughing. She was still dedicated and principled and brimming with empathy—but she seemed leery, self-protective, distrustful.

And anyway, he assured himself, if she were the same person he’d known in Washington he might wind up falling in love with her again. He had no intention of doing that. Too much time had passed, too much scar tissue had formed. He wasn’t interested in getting romantically involved with her.

He steered his attention back to the proceedings at the front of the court room. The first prosecution witness, the physician at the school clinic who had examined Trisha Vincent after the alleged rape, was being sworn in.

Luke watched intently. Jenny’s examination of the witness was straightforward and concise. No histrionics, no subterfuge, no playing to the balcony. Once again he reassessed her, weighing her past and present. She’d always been refreshingly direct back then, he recalled. She’d never resorted to game-playing. If she had wanted to know something she had asked. Her approach to people had been neither demanding nor cajoling but so frank and forthright a person couldn’t help but answer honestly.

That much hadn’t changed, at least. She was still frank, still forthright.

Luke’s attention flagged slightly when the defense attorney began his cross-examination. The man was obviously a seasoned professional, but his technique didn’t strike Luke as particularly gutsy or dynamic. He often glanced at the jury in a collaborative way, as if to imply, “You don’t believe this, do you?” as he picked through the doctor’s testimony, hunting for exploitable chinks and flaws. In his effort to woo the jury, Sullivan’s attorney exuded intelligence and molasses-sweet charm.

Jenny hadn’t exuded anything. She was what she was, neat and contained, nothing sticky or drippy or overly sweet about her. Undoubtedly Luke was biased, but he thought her brisk, concise approach was much more compelling.

As soon as the physician was done testifying the judge admonished the jury to avoid reading the newspapers or watching newscasts on television and then adjourned for the day. Luke checked his watch: ten minutes to one. He stood aside as a small stream of people filed up the center aisle and out of the courtroom. When an artist passed by, Luke glimpsed the pastel sketch of Jenny on the top of her pad. It was almost a caricature—the profile rendering showed Jenny’s sharp little chin thrust forward pugnaciously and her gaze cool and relentless. For some reason, the stern demeanor captured in the sketch struck Luke as sexy.

The crowd thinned, and he turned to see Jenny hunched over her table, scribbling something onto a lined legal pad. She closed her pen with an efficient snap, slid the pad into her briefcase and straightened up. After exchanging a few words and a handshake with the doctor who had testified, she pivoted—and spotted Luke.

As she had yesterday, she appeared first shocked by the sight of him and then delighted. Swinging her briefcase from the table, she hurried up the aisle to him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Almost,
he thought as he peered down at her. Her smile was natural and luminous—it almost brightened her eyes. If only...

If only what? If only her eyes lit up he would gather her into his arms and kiss her?

Where did that bizarre thought come from? He had promised Taylor he wasn’t going to fall for her again, and it was a wise promise. He and Jenny were friends, that was all.

In answer to her question, he shrugged. “What am I doing here? I’m a citizen viewing a public trial.”

“You aren’t a citizen of the Commonwealth,” she reminded him, beckoning him to follow her out of the courtroom.

“Oh—is there a state residency requirement for watching a trial?”

Jenny detected the teasing in his tone and chuckled. “If I had a choice between watching a Middlesex Superior Court trial and lolling on the beach on Cape Cod, I don’t think anyone would find me within fifty miles of the courthouse.”

Luke nearly countered that she had had a choice. She could have chosen to become a teacher, with her summers relatively free for beachcombing. But the bustling sixth-floor hallway didn’t seem like the appropriate setting to probe Jenny’s psyche for clues as to what had led her to this place, this profession. After seeing her perform in court, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she’d made the right choice.

“You were fantastic in there,” he said.

She scoffed at what she apparently believed was a gross exaggeration. “Fantastic?”

“Brilliant,” he insisted. “How do you think it went?”

“I was adequate,” she said modestly.

They started down the hallway, Luke careful to shorten his pace so she wouldn’t have to jog to keep up with him. “I’ve got to admit, one thing you did stymied me. You know those questions the defense attorney asked the doctor, about why she accepted the girl’s story that she’d been raped when there were no obvious injuries—isn’t that conjecture? I thought the doctor was only supposed to testify on medical evidence.”

“Well, yes,” Jenny confirmed. “But I’ve found it’s better to save your objections until you really need them. You object too much over trivia and the jury gets suspicious. They think you’re panicking about the strength of your case. They sit there, wondering, ‘Why doesn’t she want us to hear this?’ I always try to save my objections until I absolutely need them.”

He regarded her as they waited for the elevator. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Once they were descending, he murmured, “You really are good at this, aren’t you.”

Jenny laughed. “You really are good for my ego. I wish you were on the jury.”

“I would have been disqualified—old friend of the prosecutor.”

The elevator door opened and they emerged onto the second floor. Instead of heading to her office Jenny halted and studied Luke with the same bemusement with which he’d studied her. “Why did you come?” she asked.

“To see you at work,” he admitted honestly. “I’m still having a little trouble thinking of you as an attorney. I’m having less trouble now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, but...”

“I’m glad you were there,” she said abruptly, then glanced away. “Maybe, if I had known you were watching, I would have done even better.” Her gaze shuttled from the elevator door to her briefcase, avoiding Luke. “I wish we could spend some more time together this afternoon, but I’ve got a ton of work to do.”

“The court recessed early again, didn’t it.”

“They usually recess by one o’clock,” she explained. “That gives everyone time to prep and oversee our other cases. And eat lunch, if we’ve got a minute to spare—which I don’t, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got to get back to the Cape, anyway. Taylor wants me to look at a restaurant in Yarmouth he’s thinking of buying.”

“Oh.” She lifted her eyes to him. “Will you come again?”

“To see you do your Clarence Darrow impersonation? Sure.”

“Not Clarence Darrow—he was a defense attorney,” she pointed out.

“But he was a great lawyer, and so are you. Yes, I’ll definitely come again.” He hesitated, then succumbed to impulse and bowed to kiss her cheek. Just a quick, light kiss, the kind of kiss given in friendship. A kiss because he was proud of her and awed by her, and—no matter how fantastic a lawyer she was—worried about her.