The Choice (40 page)

“When is that going to happen?” Jessica asked impatiently. “Life isn't supposed to be a masquerade ball. Eventually you're going to have to take off the mask and let Jeremy know who you are.”

“I know.” Sandy sighed. “Right now I can stay in touch with him because of the pregnant student. At some point that's going to end.”

“Have you decided how to break the news that you're his mother? It has to be in person.”

“Are you sure? If he isn't excited about it, then he'll be trapped into pretending he is. I did some research on the Internet, and most birth mothers and adoptees begin with a long-distance communication to find out if the other person is interested in knowing about their birth history.”

“That might be true if he were living in Alaska and you'd never seen each other. But people on the east side of Rutland buy groceries in Tryon. You're practically next-door neighbors. Think about all the places he could have gone after graduating from law school.”

“I have,” Sandy admitted.

“Well, if you don't do something, maybe I will. He needs to hear from you—sooner rather than later.”

Sandy's hands suddenly started perspiring. She rubbed her palms together.

“It makes me nervous to think about it.”

“You wouldn't be normal if it didn't. Take along a few photos of your family to show him. Do you still have that picture of us in your mother's kitchen about a month before your babies were born?”

“Are you serious? I looked like a giant human basketball.”

Jessica patted her on the arm.

“A cute basketball. I have a copy if you don't. The sweet expression on your face still makes me smile. When he sees that, he'll know you didn't resent carrying him around for nine months.”

“I just don't know when and how to tell him.”

“If you don't act soon, I'm going to put on an old-fashioned print dress, mysteriously show up in Jeremy's life someday in the near future, and tell him about you. Then I'll disappear, just like the woman you met years ago at the gas station.”

“I don't think you could pull that off.” Sandy laughed.

“Don't dare me,” Jessica replied. “Remember when I jumped out of the maple tree in your backyard on a dare?”

“And sprained your ankle so badly you had to use crutches for a week.”

Jessica drove away, and Sandy continued her walk past the street where the Donnelly family formerly lived. In addition to curiosity about his father, Jeremy was sure to have questions about “Baby Smith.” The existence of a twin brother might cause Jeremy to launch his own search, and as a lawyer, he'd likely be successful. The thought that she might someday be reunited with both her sons sent a tingle down Sandy's spine, followed immediately by a shudder as she remembered the old woman's warning. Unlike Jessica's idle threat, the woman's words retained their power after thirty-three years. Trying to explain to Jeremy why she'd separated him from his brother at birth would be hard. Asking him not to find his brother would be impossible. As she turned the corner toward home, Sandy considered another possibility—not telling Jeremy he had a brother at all.

The following morning Sandy was in the teachers' lounge pouring a cup of coffee when Kelli Bollinger came over to her.

“That's a cute skirt,” Kelli said. “Where did you get it?”

“On sale at Blake's,” Sandy replied.

“I like their clothes, but I never find anything there I can afford.” Kelli leaned in closer. “How is the situation going with the pregnant student? I heard a police officer served papers on Dr. Vale.”

Before Sandy could respond, the door opened and a tall, young deputy sheriff wearing a Rutland County uniform entered.

“Is Ms. Sandra Lincoln here?” the deputy asked in an official-sounding voice.

Sandy swallowed and raised her hand like a student with little chance of knowing the answer to a difficult question.

“That's me,” she said.

“This is for you,” the deputy announced, handing her a thick envelope.

“What is it?” Sandy asked.

“You'll need to open it to find out,” the deputy replied. “I'm just serving the papers.”

“Uh, thank you.”

The deputy left. Sandy stared at the envelope. There was a return label in the top-left corner—Jenkins & Lyons, with an address in Atlanta. She turned to Kelli.

“I guess I have to open this, don't I?”

“Yes, but not in here. Find someplace private.”

Sandy left the lounge. As she walked down the hall, coffee sloshed out of the cup and a few drops splattered the front of her skirt. When she reached her room, a student from her third-period class was waiting for her with a paper in her hand. Sandy could see the red ink almost dripping from where she'd corrected the student's work.

“Not now, Gloria,” Sandy said. “Try to get to class a couple of minutes early, and I'll explain my comments.”

“But I want to work on revisions during my second-period study hall,” the student protested. “You said today was the last chance we had to make changes.”

Sandy thrust out her hand. “Give it to me.”

As quickly and efficiently as she could, Sandy explained to Gloria that it isn't a good idea to have two topic sentences in the same paragraph and why it's important for there to be agreement between a sentence's subject and verb.

“Turn this paragraph into two and check the sentences I marked for subject-verb agreement problems,” she said. “That's what this symbol means.”

“Oh,” Gloria replied. “I missed the day when you explained the abbreviations. That helps a lot.”

As soon as Gloria left, Sandy ripped open the envelope. Printed at the top was
In the United States District Court for the Northern District of Georgia
. Beneath the heading were the words
In Re: Sandra H. Lincoln
, followed by
Motion for Temporary Restraining Order
.

Sandy read as fast as she could. The general intent of the motion quickly became clear. Someone had hired a lawyer in Atlanta to file a legal action in federal court claiming that Sandy had violated Maria's civil rights by wrongfully interfering with her reproductive freedom. The motion also alleged that Maria was mentally incompetent and needed a court-appointed guardian. This claim was followed by a reference to a related petition that was being filed in the juvenile court in Rutland seeking appointment of a guardian. The motion asked that Sandy be ordered not to communicate with Maria or else face a citation for contempt of court. The papers were signed by a lawyer named Dustin Abernathy, a member of the Georgia, Illinois, and California bars.

The motion itself was merely the first part of the paperwork. Attached was a
Notice of Hearing
for the following week at the Richard B. Russell Federal Building in Atlanta. Sandy blanched at the thought of being forced to drive to Atlanta to appear in front of a federal judge. Following the notice was a ten-page brief that set out facts about Sandy's involvement with Maria and several pages of legal arguments in support of the motion. Sandy saw a reference to a women's rights organization and turned back to the first page of the motion. The organization was mentioned in one of the opening paragraphs and appeared to be responsible for hiring the lawyer.

Students started coming in for first-period class. Sandy folded up the paperwork and slipped it into her tote bag. Fifteen minutes later, while the students worked on a class assignment, she glanced down at the bag. She wanted to read the papers again but knew she had classroom responsibilities. When the class ended, she didn't have time to sneak away and inform Jeremy of the latest development before another group of students arrived.

It wasn't until her lunch break that Sandy could leave the building. Sitting in her car, she unfolded the motion and phoned Jeremy's office. Deb Bridges answered.

“Is Jeremy available?” Sandy asked. “It's an emergency.”

While she waited on hold, Sandy felt like such a nuisance. She'd initially contacted Jeremy for a onetime appointment to help Maria know her rights. Since then, the situation had snowballed. And now, with service of the motion and reference to an incompetency proceeding, the snowball had the makings of an avalanche.

“What's the latest?” Jeremy asked when he picked up the call.

“A lot,” Sandy replied.

After she read the first few paragraphs of the motion, she paused for a moment and Jeremy spoke.

“Maria mentioned going someplace in Atlanta with the counselor after the appointment at the women's clinic, didn't she?”

“Yes, she had to wait on Carol and the woman named Ms. Sullivan for a couple of hours at an office building.”

“My guess is they stopped by the headquarters of the organization mentioned in the pleadings. What does the motion say in the prayer?”

“The prayer?”

“The request for relief that appears above the lawyer's signature on the last page. It should begin with something like ‘Wherefore, the Court is hereby requested to, et cetera.' ”

Sandy turned to the final page of the motion.

“Yes,” she said. “Here it is.”

She read the language to Jeremy.

“When is the notice of hearing on the motion?” he asked.

“Next Wednesday morning at ten-thirty at the Richard B. Russell Building.”

“Hold on,” Jeremy said.

Sandy waited.

“I can do it if we're back here by four o'clock. I have a hearing on a motion for summary judgment that can't be postponed.”

“You're going to help me?”

“Of course. But this case may go way beyond a fight over who gets to talk to Maria.”

“What do you mean?”

“When a women's outfit like this gets involved in litigation, it's often because the leaders of the group want to obtain a legal precedent that can be used to advance their goals in other situations, locally and nationally. Who's the judge assigned to hear the case? It should be listed someplace on the notice of hearing.”

Sandy read the sheet.

“I don't see a name. It just gives the number of the courtroom.”

“Turn to the first page and see if there are initials beside the case number.”

“Yes, it says
WST
.”

“That's the judge. His name is Wendell S. Tompkins.”

“Do you know him?”

“I've only appeared in front of him one time, but I know his reputation.”

Sandy swallowed. “Good or bad.”

“Not good. There may have been some judge-shopping going on when the motion was filed.”

“Judge-shopping?”

“It's hard to pull off, but sometimes a party to a lawsuit will try to get a case assigned to a judge who will be more likely to rule in their favor. Because federal judges are appointed for life and don't have to answer to anyone, they can be notoriously unpredictable. Judge Tompkins has a history of stretching the limits of judicial power. And that's exactly what this motion is trying to do.”

Sandy's head was spinning.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“Scan and e-mail a copy of the papers you received to me. Deb will send you a contract so I can represent you. Once we're set, I'll file a notice of appearance with the court and notify opposing counsel. The preliminary hearing next week is the first volley in the war, not the last shot. I'll be planning for all contingencies.”

“What kind of contingencies?”

“That will be part of my research. But at this point the motion isn't seeking money damages. The goal is to obtain a court order and dare you to violate it.”

Sandy thought about the resolve she'd felt the previous night. It seemed less rock-solid.

“Since there's no order in place, you can still communicate with Maria,” Jeremy said. “The motion also mentioned a juvenile court action in Rutland. If that's been filed, it will be served on Maria and her father. Get me a copy of that as soon as you can too.”

“Okay. This sounds so complicated. What are you going to charge me?”

“An hourly rate will be set out in the contract, but I'll waive any deposit. I'll continue to help Maria on a pro bono basis.”

Sandy swallowed. Her convictions were about to cost her real dollars.

“If my suspicion proves correct that the women's group wants to obtain a broad legal precedent, there may be national pro-life advocacy groups willing to get involved to counter those efforts.”

Jeremy was looking far down the road. Sandy wasn't sure what she might face when she left her car and returned to the school building.

“How soon can you get me a copy of the papers you received?” Jeremy asked.

“Uh, I can send them from the computer in the basketball coach's office. It's on the school network, of course, but it's in a private location.”

“Is there a rule against using the school computers for personal use?”