Robin didn’t have an inkling if this would amount to anything. “I talked to Judge Bollinger.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Libby said.
Her friend’s excitement made Robin feel more than a little guilty. “You know Judge Bollinger?”
“Yes … I think so.” Libby hesitated and seemed to put two and two together. “How do you know him?”
“From court … his courtroom is just down the hall.”
“You’re in criminal law.”
This was a statement of fact and not a question.
“Do you want me to tell him to forget about it?” Robin snapped. She regretted saying anything to Libby now. It had been a mistake, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. What she really wanted, Robin realized, was to tell Libby that she’d finally talked to the man she’d been secretly longing for all these months.
“You went to the fund-raiser?”
Robin had mentioned it that morning at the gym. Libby had seemed surprised that she’d opted to attend. Like Robin, Libby usually mailed in a donation and left it at that.
“I was there,” Robin murmured, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
“How was it?”
“Like I expected. Chicken and frozen peas for dinner, long speeches, major push for donations.”
“I’m surprised you went.”
Robin let the comment hang, unwilling to admit her real reason for attending.
An uncomfortable silence followed and Robin was about to end the conversation when Libby spoke.
“Can I ask you something?” Her friend’s voice dropped several decibels as though she was troubled.
“Depends on what it is.” If Libby intended to drill her about Roy, then the subject was off-limits. No one knew how strongly attracted Robin was to the judge. No one needed to know. It was her business and no one else’s.
“Remember I texted you about Phillip … Dr. Stone … asking me to coffee?”
“Hot stuff,” she joked.
“Well, it wasn’t for the reason I thought.”
“Oh?” Robin hadn’t heard the outcome and had frankly been curious, but she’d assumed Libby would volunteer the information when she was ready. Libby tended to be as private as Robin was herself.
“He … wanted to tell me he thinks that one of the girls from the yarn store is pregnant and hiding it.”
“An employee?”
“No … it’s either Lydia’s daughter or her friend.”
That gave Robin pause. “They’re just kids.” She remembered seeing them and thinking it was inspiring to see two young teens taking up knitting.
“They’re thirteen,” Libby told her.
Thirteen? Well, it was young, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard of someone that age being pregnant. “He didn’t identify which girl?” Robin asked.
Libby sighed. “No, he got called out of the cafeteria on an emergency. He seemed to think I should know, but I don’t. I like Lydia a lot, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“Would you want someone to tell you if it was your daughter?”
Her friend hesitated. “I asked myself the same question and decided I probably would. He seemed a bit uncomfortable bringing up the subject. I’m sure it weighed heavily on his mind or he wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“That’s your answer then,” Robin told her. “If Dr. Stone felt compelled to bring it up, he did it out of concern for the teenager.”
After a moment, Libby agreed. “He was worried she wasn’t getting proper medical care. After thinking about it myself, I wonder if she even knows she’s pregnant.”
“You could be right,” Robin said, and then added, “You need to talk to Lydia.”
Her friend exhaled audibly. “I know … but this isn’t any of my business. It’s awkward, especially since I don’t even know which girl he meant.”
“And to think the girl is only thirteen …”
Robin tried to think of what she’d been like at that age—quiet and shy, withdrawn and studious … in essence, a dork. If the two girls in the yarn store were anything like she was then, they didn’t have a clue about what was happening to their bodies.
A few weeks ago Robin had been in court with a pregnant eleven-year-old girl. She and her stepbrother were being charged with drug crimes. The eleven-year-old had come to the courthouse to testify against her stepbrother, claiming he was the baby’s father and she’d been raped. The stepbrother insisted that the girl had “wanted it” and had offered him her body in exchange for drugs. Hooked on crack, pregnant, and only eleven years old. These were the types of abysmal situations Robin faced daily as a prosecuting attorney. Was it any wonder she’d developed a cynical view of life? It was impossible to avoid, working the cases she did.
“I don’t know if I’m the best person to handle this,” Libby mumbled.
Robin, caught up in her own thoughts, lost track of the conversation.
“If not you, then who?” she asked, and then quickly tagged on a second question. “How well do you know Lydia?”
“Not well … some, I guess,” Libby amended.
“I’d do it myself, but I hardly know Lydia,” Robin offered. “The only time I go into the yarn store is when Mom needs me to pick up yarn for her. Half the time I think it’s an excuse.”
“An excuse?” Libby asked.
“Yes, my mother thinks if I hang around the store enough I’ll catch the knitting bug. Trust me, I’m immune. It’s fine for you and my mother, but I wouldn’t go near a pair of knitting needles if my life depended on it.”
Robin’s mother had recently married her high school sweetheart and moved to Florida. Apparently good yarn stores were few and far between in the Sunshine State. Perhaps this was Ruth’s way of reaching out to her.
Robin knew she’d taken her mother for granted. It wasn’t until Ruth had moved away that Robin realized how much she had liked having her mother around.
Christmas had been awful for her. Her only family in the area had been her twice-divorced brother. Grant had invited her to join him at his son’s place for dinner, but she had declined.
Her mother, Robin had realized too late, was her anchor. Libby had lost her mother when she’d been a young teen. From conversations they’d had in college, Robin knew that when Libby’s mother died, Libby had been cast adrift, lost on an emotional storm-tossed sea. The only time she felt safe was when she immersed herself in a book, or listened to her music. Both had helped her to escape the pain of having lost her mother, of being a motherless child.
It was shortly after that bleak Christmas Day that Robin had started thinking seriously about her future. She didn’t want to be alone again. Like Libby, Robin longed for roots: a husband, children, a purpose.
“I hope I’m not putting you on the spot,” Robin said. She didn’t envy her friend this task. “But it’s obvious you’re going to have to say something to Lydia about all this.”
“I guess you’re right,” Libby mumbled, sounding as though she would do just about anything to get out of it.
Robin reached her car and stood outside the vehicle while she considered the best way for Libby to approach the yarn-store owner.
If the situation was reversed and she was the one to talk to Lydia, what would she do? The memory of the eleven-year-old played in her mind. If this thirteen-year-old was pregnant it was more than the health issue involved. The question of whether the father was of legal age played into the equation. This could be rape. Charges might need to be filed. It could be a legal question as much as an ethical one.
“I plan to get to the bottom of this. If someone took advantage of this girl … she needs help,” Libby said.
“I thought of that, too,” Robin whispered.
“I imagine you did,” Libby murmured. “Oh, Robin, what is our world coming to?”
Chapter 9
Libby thought long and hard about how best to approach Lydia Goetz.
It would have helped if Phillip had showed up
at the gym the following morning. But he hadn’t, so she didn’t get the chance to question him further. Robin urged Libby to stop by the yarn store as soon as possible and talk to Lydia. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who had to face a woman she barely knew with this potentially devastating news.
As she mulled all this over, Libby was filled with dread. She paced the living area in her condo, checking her watch every five minutes until ten o’clock, when A Good Yarn opened.
She left the condo at around 9:45 a.m. and decided to walk, hoping the exercise would inspire her on how best to approach the subject. She needed just the right words—if there was such a thing. “Lydia, your thirteen-year-old daughter might be pregnant.” How did anyone say that?
Wanting to delay the conversation, Libby stopped in at Susannah’s Garden and aimlessly wandered around. The scent of flowers didn’t lift her mood as she’d hoped it would. Instead she found herself thinking of all the flowers that family and friends had sent for her mother’s funeral. There’d been so many bouquets that her father had given several away. Libby left the flower shop without making a purchase.
The bell above the door chimed as she entered the yarn store. Lydia’s face brightened with a welcoming smile. She was such a warm, kind person, and Libby feared this news would devastate her.
“Libby, it’s good to see you. Are you having any problems with the baby blanket you’re working on?”
“No … no.” She glanced around the shop. Lydia was alone. Either her sister, Margaret, was with their mother, or else she would arrive later.
“I was hoping the two of us would have time for a chat,” Libby said, avoiding eye contact. Her voice was low and, despite her best efforts, filled with trepidation.
“Of course, Libby.” Her friend led the way to the back of the shop and automatically poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Black, right?”
“Right.” Oh, how she missed that half-and-half, but she’d given it up as part of her plan for dropping those extra ten pounds.
Lydia handed her the mug and they both sat down at the table.
“I hesitate to say anything,” Libby said, staring into her coffee. “I wouldn’t if it wasn’t a health and legal issue and, well …”
“A health and legal issue?” Lydia repeated. Now she, too, seemed alarmed.
“I think it might be best if I start at the beginning,” Libby suggested. She’d tried to think of the best way to lead into the subject with some finesse and hadn’t come up with a single idea. The only way, she resolved, was to be as direct as possible.
“Yes, please, start at the beginning.” Lydia held on to her coffee mug with both hands as if she needed to cling to something solid.
“Remember when I went to Seattle General with Casey and Ava about a week and a half ago?”
“Of course. You dropped off the preemie hats.”
“Right. While we were there we met Dr. Stone in the elevator.”
“Oh, yes.” Lydia brightened somewhat. “The girls were impressed with the handsome Dr. Stone.”
“He recognized me because we work out at the same gym.”
“So the girls said.”
Apparently Libby had said more than she’d realized. “He recently asked to speak to me … privately.”
Lydia smiled knowingly. “Really?”
“Don’t get the wrong impression. I can categorically tell you that Dr. Stone isn’t the least bit interested in me personally.”
“Oh, Libby, are you disappointed?”
“No, not at all.” She shook her head, not wanting to get sidetracked. “The thing is, he felt it was important we talk because …”
The bell above the door chimed, indicating that Lydia had a customer. Libby groaned inwardly and forced herself to sit back. Her entire body felt coiled, like she was a warrior going into battle. Her senses were on full alert; adrenaline was pumping hard and fast through her veins.
While Lydia dealt with the customer, Margaret arrived. Libby had grown accustomed to her brusque ways and knew not to take offense. She suspected that beneath that gruff exterior was a gentle soul. Libby knew that Margaret was fiercely protective of her sister, and she wished she could continue her conversation with Lydia in private. Margaret wouldn’t take kindly to her upsetting Lydia.
“Hello, Libby,” Margaret said, as she put her purse inside the small office. She returned with a mug of coffee.
Lydia finished with her customer and almost immediately someone else stepped into the store. Hesitating, Libby wondered if it might be best for her to return another time. Then she decided it was now or never—otherwise she might lose her courage.
Lydia seemed to feel the same way because she asked her sister to help the next customer. “Libby and I are having a bit of a talk here. Could you cover for me?” she asked.
“Sure thing.” Margaret set aside her coffee and headed to the front of the store.
“Okay,” Lydia said, reclaiming her seat. “You were about to say?”
Libby inhaled and briefly closed her eyes. “Dr. Stone asked to speak with me because after meeting the girls in the elevator he was convinced one of them is pregnant.”
“What?” Lydia’s shock echoed through the store.
Margaret stopped short and so did the woman she was helping.
“Everything all right back there?” Margaret asked.
“It’s fine,” Lydia murmured. Her eyes held Libby captive. “This is a joke, right?”
Libby shook her head. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. “I wish it was.”
“Is … is it Casey?”
“I don’t know if it’s her or Ava.” She wanted to slap Phillip for not being clearer. He had assumed she would remember the girl on his right, or was it her right? Her gut reaction told her it was Ava, just from the way the girl behaved, but she couldn’t be sure. She almost said so but changed her mind. She simply didn’t know.
Lydia had gone pale. She brushed the soft brown hair off her forehead and held her hand there. “Brad caught Casey trying to sneak out of the house the other night … it wasn’t the first time. We don’t know where she goes and she won’t tell us.”
Libby’s stomach twisted into a giant knot. Maybe she was off base. “What about Ava?”
“She’s a sweet girl and all, but from what I’ve seen of her grandmother, well, let’s just say the living situation isn’t ideal. It could be her.”
“Dr. Stone said that Casey or Ava might not even know about her condition.”
“How can he tell? Really, it’s only speculation, right?” Lydia seemed to be clinging to the possibility that it wasn’t true and this was all a big mistake.
Her shock and disbelief mirrored Libby’s own response when Phillip had approached her. Surely this was pure speculation, misguided concern, or misunderstanding. The girls were both so young and naive. Pregnant? At thirteen? It shocked and angered her. Still, Libby couldn’t ignore what she knew, couldn’t pretend he was off base. He was the physician, not her.
“I’m not entirely sure how he knew. Dr. Stone didn’t say, but he was concerned enough to approach me. I wish I could explain this further … Phillip … Dr. Stone and I only spoke for a few minutes before he was called away for an emergency. I haven’t seen him since to ask.”
Perhaps it would have been better to wait, but this entire matter had weighed so heavily on her mind that Libby couldn’t ignore it any longer. Ever since her meeting with Phillip, she’d slept fitfully.
Lydia’s hands started to shake. If Libby knew her better she would have reached across the table and gripped hold of the other woman’s forearm. She wanted to comfort her, to offer Lydia reassurances, but she had none to give.
“Why did he bring this to you?” Lydia asked.
“He assumed the girl was my daughter.”
“Oh.”
The bell chimed as the customer left the store. Within seconds Margaret joined them.
“What’s going on back
here?” she demanded.
Libby left it up to Lydia to respond.
Lydia glanced blankly up at her sister and remained silent. “Something I need to look into … I need to talk to Brad.”
With narrowed eyes, Margaret studied Libby suspiciously. After a few uncomfortable moments she left the two of them alone again.
“My husband and I wanted to adopt an infant,” Lydia whispered. “We had a wonderful social worker and then one night we got a phone call. It was an emergency situation and she needed a place for a young girl just for a couple of nights.”
Libby nodded. She remembered Casey telling her that she was adopted.
“We fell in love with Casey. Brad, Cody, and I decided to make her part of our family.” She paused and it looked as if she was about to break down and weep.
Libby wanted to say or do something to help but didn’t have a clue how she could.
“The day we stood before the judge to finalize the adoption, Casey was so happy and excited she ran up and hugged the judge.” A tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and scooted down the side of Lydia’s face. “But Casey came with a lot of baggage …”
Libby could only imagine.
“The last six months haven’t been easy, adolescence, and all the hormones have kicked in … Casey started her period.” Lydia’s mouth snapped closed and she pressed her fingertips over her lips. Her eyelids slammed shut. She inhaled and seemed to be holding her breath. More tears rolled down her face.
“Lydia?” Libby felt helpless. She would give anything to take all this back. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her new friend or bring problems to her front steps.
Lydia swallowed tightly and then whispered. “I … I don’t know if Casey had a period last month.”
Libby’s stomach clenched. “One of the reasons I decided I had to say something is because of the legal issues involved.”
Lydia stared at her blankly. “How do you mean?”
“If … if Casey is pregnant, you’ll need to find out who the father is. If he’s over eighteen then it’s statutory rape. Criminal charges will need to be filed. Do you know if Casey has a boyfriend?”
Lydia nodded. “She does.”