"What about the oxygen tube?"
"She has a tablet and a pen and much determination. I don't think she'll rest until you've seen her."
"I'll be happy to go in. Rachel, do you want to come in or head for home?"
"Home for me. We'll talk tomorrow." Rachel touched Val's arm, then left.
Val followed Dr. Kumar to Louise. "A bed is being prepared in the ICU and she'll be moved up there soon," the doctor said before moving on to another case.
Val pushed aside the curtain to Louise's area. The older woman looked gray and drained, which made sense when she had been flirting with the Pearly Gates, but her tired eyes were much more aware than earlier.
"Lyssie's fine, Louise," Val said. "My mother came and took her home. Between us, we'll make sure she's taken care of until you're out of the hospital. Is that what you wanted to know?"
Louise's eyes closed and the tension in her face eased. In the still room, the soft sounds of the ventilator that breathed for her were unnaturally loud. Thank God Lyssie had been in the house when her grandmother collapsed.
Opening her eyes again, Louise fumbled for the lined tablet lying beside her. Val lifted the tablet and held it in a position where Louise could write more easily with her felt-tipped pen. "Adopt Lyssie when I die?" she printed in large, sprawling letters that filled most of the page.
The message jolted Val like an electric shock. "You're not going to die. Dr. Kumar thinks you'll be able to go home in a few weeks."
The dark eyes looked impatient. "Diabetes hurts heart," she wrote. "Won't make old bones." Next page. "Could drop dead anytime. Want Lyssie safe. Take her?"
Val drew an unsteady breath. From Louise's expression, she must have hoped and prayed that a deep relationship would form between Val and her granddaughter, but she surely hadn't expected the situation to turn critical so soon.
Val was being asked for a commitment greater than marriage. There could be no divorce if she adopted Lyssie. But when she thought of Lyssie's intelligence and vulnerability and courage, she knew she had no choice. Saving the world was beyond her ability, but if necessary, she could save this one precious child.
Feeling a deep sense of lightness slightly tinged with panic, she said, "Of course I'll adopt Lyssie. I've always wanted a child, and she went straight to my heart as soon as I met her. You'll have to specify me as her guardian. I'll get papers drawn up, but first we need to ask Lyssie what she wants. She might have other opinions."
Louise reached for the tablet again. "Won't. Loves you."
Val found her eyes tearing. This must be akin to what new parents felt when contemplating their baby: a mixture of awe and fear and determination to do right by their child. "This sure is easier than nine months of pregnancy and stretch marks. On the down side, the terrible teens aren't that far away."
Louise's dark skin crinkled with silent laughter. Val took the older woman's wrinkled hand. "I think you're going to live to see Lyssie grow up. You're not that old, and I promised Dr. Kumar that from now on you'll have all your medications, plus Lyssie and I will both nag you to take care of yourself."
This time, it was Louise's eyes that filled with tears. Val leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Louise," she whispered. "I've never received a greater compliment than this. Even if the need to adopt Lyssie never arises, I promise I'll be there for her as long as I live. Think of me as a godmother."
Louise feebly squeezed her hand, then fell into exhausted slumber. She must have been maintaining consciousness by pure will. Now, finally, she could rest.
Val left the hospital feeling equal parts exhilarated and bemused. Even if she never became Lyssie's guardian, a seismic shift had occurred in her life and in how she saw herself. If she could take on a child, maybe she could do the same with a husband?
She drove back across Northern Parkway on autopilot, glad there was little traffic at this hour. Though her car had plenty of gas, she was running on empty herself. The last couple of months had been drainingly, exhaustingly full.
Was she in a better place than she had been? Yes, she was glad to have her own business and to have found Lyssie and Rob, even if so much caring was painful.
As she turned down Charles Street and prepared to turn into her Homeland neighborhood, she glanced at the Stony Run Meeting on the opposite side of the street. She had driven past it literally thousands of times since she had stopped attending Meeting in her adolescence. And every single time she thought about going inside again.
Tonight was far too late, but maybe, someday, she would work up the nerve....
∗ ∗ ∗
Vale opened Callie's door with her key. "Hi, it's me," she called. "Here to take a certain young lady to visit her grandmother."
Lyssie appeared, looking refreshed. Val had called first thing in the morning to confirm that her grandmother was doing well, and the news had lifted a huge load off those thin shoulders. "We had waffles for breakfast," she announced. "With fresh sliced peaches and real whipped cream. Can I take some to Gramma?"
"She'll probably be on the ventilator for at least a few days." She put her arm around Lyssie's shoulders and headed to the sunny kitchen at the back of the house where Callie was sitting lazily with a cup of designer coffee.
"Hi, Callie." Val poured herself a cup of the coffee, then sat down with a fork and began sampling leftover peaches and cream. "Thanks so much for taking my little sister. Now that I've imposed on you once, can I ask you to keep her for the next few days, until...the Monroe case is decided?"
"Not a problem." Callie waved a hand dismissively. "Lyssie is easy to have around. She has a first-rate imagination."
Val recognized that her mother was ready to turn Lyssie into another surrogate daughter who had the talent her real daughter had lacked. Well, Laurel had benefited by the arrangement, and no doubt Lyssie would, too. "She's a born storyteller as well as having artistic ability. Maybe she'll end up a writer and illustrator of books."
Callie's eyes narrowed. "I've been thinking. The school year is just starting, and I think Lyssie should transfer to the Hanover School. That's where I teach, Lyssie. It's a good place for children who have talents that might not get enough encouragement in public schools. What do you think, Val?"
Val recognized that speaking glance. She was being asked not only her opinion, but whether she would foot the bill. The Hanover School was not cheap. Though Callie might be able to wrangle a partial scholarship, more would be required, and neither Callie nor Louise could afford it.
Well, Val could manage it with some belt-tightening, and it seemed that it was the sort of thing a new godmother should do. "I think that's a great idea. I went to Friends School because it was a better fit for my abilities, but Hanover is super for creative types like you."
Lyssie perched on the edge of a chair, looking uncertain. "I might be too weird for a private school."
"Not this one," Callie said confidently. "I think you'll make friends there easily. It will be like finding your own tribe."
Val had told Callie about Lyssie's Lumbee blood, and referring to a tribe was the perfect way to convince the girl. "Then I'd like to go there, if Gramma agrees."
"I'm sure she will. She wants the best for you." Thinking this was a perfect cue, Val caught Lyssie's gaze. "Your grandmother is doing well, and I think she'll make a good recovery, but last night she asked if I would adopt you if...if something happened to her. I said yes, as long as it was okay with you."
Lyssie's eyes widened, looking enormous behind her thick lenses. "Did Gramma talk you into that even though you didn't want to?"
Val shook her head. "I agreed as soon as she asked because I thought it was a wonderful idea." She glanced at Callie, sending a silent message of her own. Making Lyssie part of the Covington family meant that if Val got hit by a truck, her mother would inherit the responsibility for Lyssie. After a brief hesitation while Callie absorbed that, she gave a faint nod, accepting the possibility.
"You'd really do tha
t?" Lyssie asked in a whisper.
"I will indeed, and with pleasure, though I'd rather your grandmother lives long enough to see her great-grandchildren." Val rose and hugged Lyssie. "I had no idea how effective the Big Sister/Little Sister program would be, honey. We're family now."
Lyssie wrapped her arms around Val, her hug as unreserved as her tears. Val patted her on the back, feeling six kinds of wonderful. Any doubts she'd had about her fitness for becoming a mother were gone for good. Parenting would have its difficulties, but it would be worth it.
Chapter 31
Kendra appeared in the door of Val's office, her eyes wide and black. "Petition denied," she said starkly as she offered a handful of faxed papers.
Even though Val had been expecting this, the finality of denial was paralyzing. "So it's over. We've failed."
Kendra nodded. Her beautiful caramel skin was tinged with gray.
Val took the fax and skimmed through. The opinion was exactly what she expected. "In spite of everything, I never believed that an injustice of this magnitude could really happen." By concentrating, she was able to stand without wavering. "I'll go downtown to tell Daniel. Do you want to come?"
Kendra shook her head. "I've promised myself not to cry in front of him and I...I wouldn't be able to do that right now."
Val picked up her handbag and headed from the office. At the door she paused to rest a hand on Kendra's arm. "I'm so sorry. Except for Daniel himself, you're the one injured most by our failure."
"Maybe. Luke might disagree." Kendra's gaze came into focus. "For you it's not as much a personal loss, but maybe something even worse. You're losing your belief in the law, and in yourself."
Val caught her breath, startled. "You may be right. At the moment that's too heavy a thought for me to handle. Will you call Luke and Jason to let them know?"
After Kendra nodded, Val left the church, taking extra special care in buckling her seat belt. She was feeling the kind of numbness that required mundane details to keep her anchored to the real world.
In eighteen hours Daniel Monroe would be executed. The drugs would flow into his veins and stop his heart and lungs. All that life and strength would depart, leaving only the shell of what had been a special man. But weren't all men and women special?
An avalanche of emotion cascaded over her, leaving her feeling bruised and bludgeoned. Instinctively she drove from the lot and turned the car north rather than south. She needed to see Rob, who should be in his guest house. Rather than phone, she wanted to tell him the news in person. Even more, she desperately needed for him to hold her. It wouldn't hurt to spare Daniel the bitter truth for a little longer.
As she drove, Kendra's words buzzed around her head. Though she liked winning as much as the next lawyer, failing to save Daniel undermined not her professional ego, but the articles of faith by which she lived. No amount of intellectual understanding that it would be hard to save her client had prepared her for the emotional devastation of knowing that she was part of a system that was about to commit murder.
Would she be able to continue as a lawyer after this? She exhaled roughly, knowing it was too soon to decide any big questions. She was like an accident victim whose severed limb was still bleeding--still in shock, unable to comprehend the magnitude of her injury.
As she turned south on Charles Street, her gaze went automatically to the Stony Run Meeting, the plain old building barely visible on the other side of the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen. She had been tempted so often to stop by. If only...
Abruptly the turmoil of her spirit overcame her doubts, and she turned into the Quaker parking lot. Ordinarily it would have been necessary to ring for admittance to enter the meeting house at an off-hour, but as Val approached an elderly woman with a serene face exited. Seeing Val, she politely held the door open. Val nodded but didn't speak, not wanting to disturb the other woman's peace.
The meeting house was just as Val remembered. She turned slowly, absorbing the atmosphere. Decorated not with stained glass or statues or carved wood but God's own light, the room was a well of silence and peace. Val settled onto the nearest bench, closing her eyes as she remembered the traditional Quaker injunction: "Turn in thy mind to the Light, and wait upon God."
As a child, she had done that instinctively, quieting her mind to make room for the inner light. She had lost that ability at adolescence, and her inability to recapture quiet had led to her abandoning the meeting. She hadn't known real peace since.
Awash in hormones, the discovery of boys, and a desire for success and the security of money, she had known that she didn't belong at the meeting house. Today she needed to seek at least an echo of faith to sustain her through a dark night of the soul.
Since stilling her mind would be impossible, she formed a mental image of Daniel, then tried to surround him with tight. When she couldn't manage that, she focused on igniting a single spark of inner light in her heart. She was on the verge of giving up when she found a faint, pure glow of illumination deep within.
Expanding the light, she was able to encompass her image of Daniel. Once she felt him beside her, she knew that he would be safe in the light despite the fierce injustice of his imminent death.
As she became more centered, she reached for Louise and Lyssie. They had both had such hard lives. Louise already lived in light, and it was simple to bring her close. Lyssie was more difficult, all jangled edges and wariness, but in time Val felt her little sister's presence as well.
Her spirit, so long deprived, slowly flowered, bringing the peace that surpassed understanding. One by one, she sent light to Rob, to Jason and Kendra and Luke, to her friends and family, to the Friends she had known years before in this meeting house.
She wasn't sure how long she prayed, but when she opened her eyes tears were running down her face. Healing tears that softened her own jangled edges and wariness.
Her mind a kaleidoscope, she rose to leave. Why had she stayed away from the Meeting for so long? Clearness was an important concept among Quakers, and she was experiencing a moment of true clarity. She had been living life with a spiritual void at the center of her soul. No amount of success or material possessions or busyness could fell that elemental emptiness. No wonder she had done so badly with relationships. She had lacked faith in herself and in the power of love.
She was still an imperfect, deeply unworthy Quaker. But she would no longer be an absent one.
∗ ∗ ∗
In the back of Rob's mind a clock ticked away the hours of Daniel Monroe's life. Rob had experienced the same surreal horror when his brother's execution was approaching. Though Rob disagreed with the rough justice of an eye for an eye, at least he could understand it, and Jeff had committed terrible crimes. The death of an innocent man was infinitely more harrowing.
Needing a break from the case notes he was scrutinizing, he walked from the guest house and sat on the top step of the little porch. Malcolm joined him, so he draped an arm over the dog, receiving a moan of comfort in return.
He had spent the last long days digging ever deeper into the life of Omar Benson, hoping to find a definitive piece of evidence to clear Daniel. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
His gaze wandered over the unruly garden that would soon be his. Tomorrow these flowers would still be blooming, and a man who had become a friend would be dead.
He saw a movement from the comer of his eyes, and turned to see Val rounding the corner of the house. She was dressed in crisp professional mode and her expression was calm, but one look into her eyes and he knew what had happened.
Though her face showed the marks of tears, her voice was steady when she said, "I wanted to tell you the bad news in person."
"The petitions failed." He stood and moved toward her, Malcolm at his heels.
"The Supreme Court refused to grant cert. Only to be expected when the chief justice once said that actual innocence is not a constitutional argument. The state Court of Appeals has already agreed that it's essential for cases
to achieve finality. After seventeen years of appeals and postconviction proceedings, the testimony of unreliable witnesses isn't enough to make a difference." Her voice broke. "I knew it was a long shot, but even so..."
He wrapped his arms around her shaking body, his emotions as bleak as hers. "We tried our damnedest, Val. It's the most anyone can do."
"'Nice try' isn't good enough! In a capital case, only winning counts." The tears she had been trying to control began spilling from her. She wiped at them angrily. "Dammit, I thought I was done with crying."
He handed her his handkerchief, which was wrinkled but clean. "This situation deserves tears. It deserves sackcloth and ashes and wailing to the heavens."
"I keep wondering if the Court of Appeals was affected negatively by all the publicity. Maybe they didn't want to seem influenced by media opinions."
"There's no way to know, and no point in speculating." He held her tight, glad he could do this if nothing else. Even if Val wouldn't marry him, they would always have the battlefield bond of having fought to save a man's life.
If only they had succeeded.
He steered her to the guest house steps and sat down, tucking her under his arm. When she had mastered her tears, she said, "I've been thinking about my relationship issues and found some clarity, but maybe today isn't the right time to talk about it."
"Give it a try," he suggested. "We could both use a distraction."
"I suppose you're right, but if I don't make any sense, hit your mental delete key." She sat up and made a futile push at her hair. "My omniscient friend Rachel suggested that my allergy to marriage might stem from having my father be such a small part of my life. I got used to the men in my life being limited. Sort of like growing up with an alcoholic, then meeting an attractive drunk and thinking "This feels so right! It must be destiny!' If that makes sense."