A Southern Girl (22 page)

That afternoon, Coleman changed into work clothes and reported to the attic for lifting duty. Together we carried the components of the crib down the disappearing stairway to our bedroom, where Coleman whacked it together in a matter of minutes as the quirks of its assembly came back to him.

As I smoothed the comforter down, I said, “I wish we could have gotten a direct flight to Kennedy. We’ll arrive La Guardia at eleven in the morning and sit.”

“We could run into Manhattan.”

“Not enough time. Her flight arrives at 5:48 and the Open Arms briefing starts at 4:30. Benita Mallory was emphatic that we make that if possible.”

“So that’s all we have to do, eh? Show up at a briefing. I wonder if they’ll hand out some kind of ticket or chit; you know, ‘Present this to the flight attendant to claim your kid.’ You don’t suppose she’ll be in baggage claim, do you?”

As I admired the now-ready crib, I found him admiring me. A good sign, I thought.

13

Coleman

I stayed in touch with Barron Morris. He put no expiration date on his offer, telling me he realized it represented a major decision and urging me to take whatever time was needed. Elizabeth and I discussed pros and cons, but casually, as though the debate was a hypothetical one not truly related to our future. In the meantime, I pressed ahead with billable hours.

A few days before Mother arrived for her visit, I sat at my desk, a stack of depositions piled in front of me and notebooks covering the credenza to my left. Two weeks remained until the McLauren trial, at which I hoped to punish a stingy insurance company for its latest offer, one the company termed “final.” Our client, Ted McLauren, had been a passenger in a Volvo broad-sided by an eighteen wheeler in an intersection. The damage to McLauren’s right leg was severe and permanent. Experience made all the difference in evaluating such claims, and it was here that I felt I earned my pay, weighing as objectively as I could evidence, depositions, medical reports, legal theories to determine a range of value.

My door opened and Don Mahoney’s head appeared. “Stop in when you get a moment,” Mahoney said. I knew, as did every other lawyer in the firm, that the outside limit on the “moment” was fifteen minutes, and that failure to report within that time would bring Mahoney back, “wondering
what the hell happened to you.” I gave it ten minutes, straightened my tie and ambled down the hall to Mahoney’s corner office.

“Sit down,” Mahoney intoned in his cavernous voice as I entered. “Coffee?”

“Thanks. I’ve had my quota.”

“What are you working on these days? How’s the Anspach matter?”

“Can’t get to it. McLauren goes to trial in two weeks and I’m getting ‘litigator’s lament.’”

“A terrible affliction,” Mahoney agreed. “I’ve had it myself many times. What’s the offer?”

“Fifty grand.”

Mahoney winced. “And we said ‘no?’ What are the damages?”

“Seventy-five thousand and climbing, but liability is the problem; the old red-light, green-light debate. Our key witness had a very poor vantage point. They know it and we know it. Naturally, our client sees that as a technicality and plans to retire on our efforts.”

“Naturally.” Mahoney paused. “Changing subjects, I hear you and Elizabeth are expecting. Chinese, did I hear?”

“Korean.” I felt pressure in my throat, as though I tightened my tie to excess.

Mahoney nodded but said nothing, turning his gaze toward the blind-covered bank of windows to his right and drumming his fingers lightly on the surface of his desk.

“Is that a problem?” I asked, sensing in Mahoney’s silence the air of admonition.

Mahoney grinned, but without humor. “Oh, I don’t see why. Besides, it’s your business. But it has been the subject of some discussion at the club. A couple of folks on the membership committee have come to me wondering if they risk setting some sort of precedent …”

I saw where Mahoney was headed, but decided not to help him get there. “Gee, aren’t there already some adopted children among the members?”

“Well, sure there are,” said Mahoney with a hint of impatience. “The point is this child is … ethnic.”

“Ah,” I said, feigning a dawning of the light. “The Reggie Page problem.”

“No, no. Reggie Page is another matter altogether. You can’t equate the blacks with the Orientals.”

“No, of course not,” I agreed. “I only meant that both involve exceptions to the norm, and I guess any time you make exceptions you have to consider the long-range implications.”

“Naturally,” agreed Mahoney. “Everyone likes you and Elizabeth and wants you in the club. You’ve no doubt got your reasons for taking in this child and who are we to second guess. But in that Cynthia and I will be sponsoring your application, I wanted to make sure you understood the sensitivity some of the members are feeling on the minority question.”

“Absolutely,” I replied, surprised at the edge in my own voice and newly conscious of a latent indignation within. “It’s just hard for me to imagine a little orphan being the source of controversy at the club.”

“It’s not so much the orphan.”

“What then?”

“Jesus, Coleman, you’re a bright guy, think about it. The last thing Riverside needs now is controversy over a racial question. I know where you stand because I’ve practiced with you for five years. But I have to tell you that some people are less sure about your wife. Her refusal to join the Junior League still has some folks upset.”

I gave Mahoney a respectful scoff. “That was no great statement of principle on Elizabeth’s part. She’s not the League type and wasn’t interested, pure and simple.”

Mahoney grew animated, flaring his arms upward as his voice descended to its most imperial, regnant depth. “But joining the League is something you do when you live here and are married to a lawyer in this kind of firm. You should have forced her to join.”

I laughed. Maybe having the Charleston offer in my back pocket made me cocky. “I commanded her to sign up. She said, ‘No.’ That was the end of it.”

“And now you see where people get their suspicions.”

“So that’s it,” I said, eyeing him with a steady glare. “My wife is considered some type of rebel and people are nervous.”

“‘Rebel’ is too strong, but I’ll be honest and say that some have doubts. Don’t be shocked if your invitation to join isn’t unanimous.”

“Then don’t be shocked if we don’t apply for membership.”

Mahoney waggled his finger. “You’ve taken this wrong. Your application will sail through. I only wanted to warn you about what some of the more conservative members are thinking.”

I stood. “I don’t know, Don. It seems to me that we may be putting you and Cynthia on the spot by applying. Naturally, we wouldn’t want to embarrass you. Why don’t we both take a few days to think it over.”

“Good thought,” affirmed Mahoney, standing. “We’ll talk again. And keep me posted on how the McLauren negotiations are going.”

“I sure will,” I promised with a smile.

Mother teared up as she confessed to lying to Elizabeth about the phone call. Truth bears the weight of other religious obligations she shoulders, so I knew the guilt must have pained her. Our conversation took place the following day, while Elizabeth shopped and after Josh, Steven, and I endured a thrashing on the soccer field at the hands of the mighty Rowdies, the league’s best. A chilly, driving rainstorm late in the game contributed to the coughs and sniffles they brought home. Mother made a fire and fixed soup, apologizing to Josh and Steven as she served it that she had not come to their game. After lunch, when the boys had gone upstairs to play a board game that required them to fight their way through an endless string of ever more potent dragons to rescue some maiden named Penelope, I took a seat near the fire. Mother, seated on the other side of the hearth, read a book. She looked up to find me staring at her.

“Something on your mind, dear?” she asked.

“You,” I said. “Just wondering how you’ve been coping with dad’s situation.”

“Some days are easier than others. I’ve stayed active. He won’t be coming home. I see that now.”

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do? That’s a big house for one person.”

She closed her book in her lap. “All my memories are in that house. I won’t think of selling it until the day comes I can’t keep it up. I might take a trip.”

“Good,” I said. “You’ve wanted to travel for years.”

She sighed. “Your father hates leaving Charleston, as you know. Whenever I’ve pried him away, he’s been no fun at all.”

I smiled. “I can imagine. Where would you like to visit?”

“Europe. Italy, Greece. I’ve never been abroad, so there is plenty to choose from.”

“Go for it,” I said. “Stay here with us until the boys drive you crazy, then take off. The change would do wonders.”

I got up, walked to the fireplace, pulled back the screen, and placed another oak log on the andirons.

“Change is a part of life, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. She folded her reading glasses and put them deliberately on the table beside her chair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if things were changing here as well.”

“Why do you say that?”

Sarah looked into the fire. “I had a feeling that Elizabeth would get her way on this preposterous adoption.” I eyed her, my surprise tinged with wariness. “I answered the phone yesterday. Before I could set the caller straight on who was speaking, she started spouting information about the arrival of this child.” It was at that point the tears came. “I … wasn’t honest with Elizabeth when she asked me who called. I couldn’t sleep last night knowing I owe her an apology.”

“Did you speak to her?”

She sniffled but regained control. “I wanted to talk to you first. I hope you see what’s happening here. She’s positively determined to force this on you, and on us. I just hope it hasn’t gone so far that it can’t be stopped.”

“Mother, I think you should know that I’m the one who called the agency to accept. She didn’t force this on me.”

Her eyes widened, and in them I could see not only the reflection of the fire in the fireplace but the glint of her indignation where tears were moments earlier. “But, why on earth would you agree to such a thing? You know it makes no sense.”

“No, I don’t know that,” I said softly.

“Oh, how can you be so naïve? She’s a foreigner you’ve never even laid eyes on. Some of them carry terrible diseases. Then you read these tragic stories of pregnant women on drugs with horrible effects on their children; how do you know she won’t have a brain disorder? It’s a pig in a poke!”

I looked away. “We’re going through a reputable agency. There are risks. We realize that.”

“And you’ll see just how risky it is when you have to pay thousands of dollars in medical bills for a child who can’t even feed herself or learn the alphabet.”

“With all due respect, I think you’re looking at the dark side of the moon.”

“I just knew she would do something like this. She’s always resented your heritage, although God knows why.”

“Mother, leave Elizabeth out of this. It was her idea, yes. But this child needs a home, and we have a home to offer. Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?”

“Because society is complicated, as you will find out when she has doors slammed in her face. And it wouldn’t surprise me if your sons experience the same thing.” She tossed her book onto the table. “The whole thing makes me ill. Positively ill. To think you’d do this when your father is in such fragile health. I don’t speak to him about it. It will bring on another stroke.”

Expecting this line of attack sooner, I had no easy counter. “I’ve considered that,” I said as evenly as I could, and it was true. “The reality is that he may be in this condition for years, Mother. We can’t put life on hold. He wouldn’t want that.”

“He wouldn’t want
this,
” she said. “I’ll make my apology to Elizabeth, but I won’t change my mind about the mistake she is making.”

“
We
are making,” I corrected, then let it drop, and it more or less stayed there until that Sunday when she didn’t come home from church. When she had not returned by 1:30, I grew concerned. Even when Communion coincided with a visit from the Bishop, church ended by 12:30 and the walk home was a mere ten minutes. I zipped up my jacket and started for St. Andrews.