Alma's Will (9 page)

Harvey Anderson

Harvey Anderson, Eric's boss, called him into the office.

"You seem really down today, Eric," he said, "more so than usual. I've noticed you've been looking kinda down lately. Miss the wife and kids?"

"Of course I miss them."

"It's only been a few weeks, and you've been down since you got back. Is it that this house thing is going to take a long time? It would be easy enough to fly there for the weekend a couple of times a month. We could find work you could take care of over the Internet if you'd like to stay for a longer stretch occasionally. It would only mean moving a couple of accounts around."

"Thanks, Harv, but I'd rather stay here. The last place I want to be right now is in Macon."

"Is there something going on between you and Liv?"

"Not openly, and nothing she's aware of."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"It's just that business with her mother's house. She's making such a big deal of it. It's all she can talk about; it's all she thinks about."

"She must be very attached to that house."

"That's just it, Harv. She isn't. She couldn't care less about the house. What's eating her is what Alma—that's her mom—wants… wanted… to do with it."

"You said she left it to some kind of charity, if I remember correctly. Did you say what?"

"I didn't, not that it's any great secret. The will stipulates that it be turned into a shelter for runaway gay teenagers. When Liv heard that she was livid." He thought a second about what he'd just said and chuckled bitterly:
Livid Liv
.

"Not big on queers, is she, Eric?"

"Apparently not."

"But you must have known that already."

"Yeah, I knew, but I never dreamed she would obsess over it. Look, gays aren't exactly my cup of tea either, Harv, but it's not worth making a fuss over. You know, live and let live. There I go again."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind." He was thinking,
Liv… let Liv
.

"So it's just that obsession of hers? She'll get over it once the case is settled."

"I wouldn't count on it, not right away anyway. She doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning. But there's more to it than that. There's the embarrassment, too. I mean, this is a worthy cause, isn't it? Going along with her makes me feel like some kind of redneck. It's not exactly my favorite charity, but it's not one I'm going to fight against, either. Gays are just about the last thing I'd think of if I were going to make some kind of major philanthropic contribution, and the idea of trying to instill in kids some kind of affirmation of their gayhood, or whatever the word is—"

"Gayness."

"—doesn't exactly appeal to me, but, Christ Almighty, isn't it better than them being out on the streets, hustling, or turning to crime to survive, or dead?"

"There are regular shelters they can go to."

"I hear they get bullied there, and the people in charge don't do much to protect them. A lot of them run away or kill themselves. But even if that doesn't happen, is that any reason
not
to have special shelters for them?"

"Have you told Liv how you feel about this?"

"She knows. Maybe I haven't expressed myself as forcefully as she has, but after all, it's not something I obsess over."

"Aren't you?"

"I don't think so; I'm just being realistic. She's throwing all this time and money and energy into something she can't win, she's tearing the family apart, staying out there fixated on this thing when she could just as well be home, she's… As I said, what bothers me most is that it's become an obsession with her."

"It's funny that she and her mother should be miles apart on an issue like this one. Maybe this is more about her anger over her mother disagreeing with her than about homosexuality."

"No, it's the gay thing. And I've found out what gave her mother the idea of making the house a safe home for gay kids. Liv hid it from me, but she had a brother who was gay, and her parents threw him out. And all the time I thought she used to have a brother and he died, and there she was, bad-mouthing gays, not constantly like now, but often enough, and…" Eric broke off, blew out the breath still in his lungs, and shook his head.

"When did you find out about him?"

"A couple of days ago."

"I thought it had to be recently. It sounds like she was too ashamed to tell you."

"Well, now he's shown up; he didn't die, and, as you can imagine, he's opposing her on the will."

"Is that what you meant when you said she doesn't stand a chance?"

"Yeah. And you should hear her now talk about her brother, her own flesh and blood. I can't help wondering how she'd react if one of our kids turned out gay. It's not impossible, you know. After all, her brother is."

"It's the business with her brother that's pushed you over the edge, isn't it, Eric? The more I listen to you, the more serious this sounds."

"The woman needs counseling, but try convincing her of that! She's convinced that God is on her side. She's been going to some redneck church down there, taking the kids. I don't want my kids growing up prejudiced like that, Harv. Can you imagine what it's like suddenly finding out you and your wife have such fundamental differences? We never fought, we hardly ever disagreed, and now I find myself wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake her over a political issue."

"You're thinking of divorce, aren't you? Isn't that forcing her to choose between the house and a husband? She'd choose you, but she'd resent it."

Eric realized then that, while he was speaking, somewhere along the line his list of grievances had turned into a plea for sympathy. "It's not between me and the house," he explained; "it's between our marriage and her insane compulsion to show the world she hates gays."

"Eric, be reasonable. Do you expect anybody to believe that disagreeing on the subject of homosexuality is an irreconcilable difference?"

"You don't understand, Harv. I never said I was pro-gay. It's a question of the hate, not who she's directing it at. Look, I never had much sympathy for gays, but I'm not about to go beating up on them either. It's more 'You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.' But we don't leave them alone, do we? I mean as a society. The way Liv's reacted kind of opened my eyes, and frankly I can't live with such irrational, all-consuming hatred. And I don't want her influencing my kids."

"Then you should get yourself a lawyer."

"I already have."

Brindell, Worthy, Fripp & Thurston

Other people besides Eric considered Liv's pursuit of the house an obsession. Christian Worthy had complained about her several times to his senior partner, Lewis Brindell.

"That Redding woman is driving me crazy. She calls about the Enslik estate nearly every day. She thinks I'm stalling."

"Are you?"

"To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind doing that, Lew, but it's not necessary. You know how slowly these things move."

"It's natural she's impatient. Even when there's not much money involved, there's a huge emotional investment mixed up in a parent's will."

"It's a lot more than that. She's obsessive. I hate to think what it'll be like when she loses."

"And you're sure she'll lose."

"No question about it. It's clear the old woman knew what she was doing, and now we know why."

"You don't want to win this one, do you, Chris?"

"Would you? It's a good cause."

"Helping gays?"

"Getting kids off the streets, keeping them safe. It won't make the firm look good, fighting that."

"The liberal press would go to town on us. But don't forget this is the South. Taking the other side wouldn't help our image much either."

"The case is toxic, a lose-lose proposition for everyone except the other side," Worthy exclaimed. "No one in his right mind would touch it with a ten-foot pole. They're saying even Harris Cole may recuse himself. A probate judge recusing himself! Have you ever heard of that happening before?"

"Can't say I have. On what grounds?"

"The woman's been living at his court reporter's house while she's in Macon."

"With the Heymers? Cole's isn't the only courtroom Jessie works in. If all the judges try that tack, we'll need a change of venue."

"Well, it hasn't happened yet, and it won't. More than one of them would jump at the chance to rule against her. Then there'd be an appeal, and before you knew it the politicos would start jumping in. Terri Schiavo all over again."

"I don't think that's a likely scenario. This isn't a matter of life and death. Nobody's going to stick his neck out over something as trivial as a will."

"I wonder."

"Look, would you rather someone else handled it?"

"Who? I don't suppose
you'd
want to take it on?" Brindell brushed the idea aside with a wave of his hand. "See what I mean?"

"There's Thurston."

"Jerry? You know what he thinks of gays. He'd go at it with a vengeance; he'd shoot off his mouth to the press. Do you think you could stop him? It'd embarrass us all, and she'd still lose."

"At least she'd have an ally who wouldn't mind taking her phone calls. But I guess you're right. Jerry's the last person we want to get involved. What about Fripp?"

"He won't go near it. Besides, he has more than enough to do."

"Maybe he'd trade one of his heavier cases for this one. It doesn't require much," Brindell suggested.

"He'd sooner work himself to the bone. He knows what I have to go through, listening to her ranting."

"So you
have
asked to trade."

"No, just bitched to him about it. Really, I don't think I can take much more of this."

"Make it sound like you
are
stalling. Maybe she'll take the case somewhere else."

"Fat chance!"

"Then it looks like you're stuck with her, doesn't it?"

* * * *

"Mrs. Redding called," the secretary said.

Christian Worthy rolled his eyes. "Again?"

"I told her you were in conference."

"Thank you for that, Sandra."

"She wants you to call back."

"Watch me rush to the phone."

She laughed. "She said it's important."

"She always does."

Jerry Thurston was busy leafing through some documents by the filing cabinets. "What's this all about?" he asked.

"Mrs. Enslik's will. She left her house to charity, and her daughter isn't at all happy about it." Worthy didn't say what charity.

"Bad business, contesting charitable donations. Is the woman that tight-fisted?"

"I really couldn't say what's eating her, and I don't want to know."

"You have my sympathy," Thurston said, and carried a pile of folders back to his office.

"Don't say a word to Jerry," Worthy whispered.

"About the gay safe home? Don't you think I know better than that? It is tempting to give her a piece of my mind, though."

"But you won't, will you? She'd turn around and sue us too."

* * * *

Liv waited all day for her lawyer to return her call, and all the next day. Finally, she called again.

"Hasn't he returned your call?" the secretary said. "I passed on your message."

"No, he hasn't. Can I speak to him now?"

"I'm sorry, but he's in court this morning."

"Well, ask him to call me as soon as he gets in this afternoon."

"Will do."

She'd complained to Eric that her lawyer kept putting her off. It didn't seem to bother him.

"Lawyers are busy people," he told her. "They never return calls unless they have something to tell
you
."

"But I have things to tell
him
."

"Then leave a message what it's about with his secretary."

"She doesn't like me. I can hear it in her voice."

"You don't have to give details. Or you can ask for his voicemail."

Eric doesn't want to have anything to do with the case
, she thought bitterly. He knew how important it was to her, but he just didn't care. She just had to go it alone. Thank God for Jessie and Dennis—at least
they
listened to her! She wished she could say something to Pastor Rich, but she'd promised Jessie she'd keep it quiet. That judge had told her not to talk about it, and she didn't want to get her friend in trouble.

* * * *

"You gotta listen to this, Lew," Worthy said. "Now she's leaving me voice messages. I'd like to throttle whoever told her about the invention. Let's hope she doesn't think of emails."

Brindell listened. The message went on and on and said very little.

"You'll have to answer her, Chris. Just say you're working on it and these things take time. It'll be enough if you answer every three or four of 'em."

Kate Ansel

"Did you see that the California court invalidated all those same-sex marriages they performed in San Francisco last winter?" Liv asked Eric when he phoned one evening.

"Yeah, it must be in all the papers everywhere."

"Now what are they going to do?"

"Beats me."

"There was a long article in the paper here about it. I don't know if you saw it in Idaho. And to think my brother's married to a man! I can't get over it. Honestly, these people get everything they ask for."

"Maybe not everything."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that their marriages were declared illegal."

"Are you sure that's all you meant? I could swear you were thinking of a certain safe home in Georgia."

"Okay, I admit it, Liv. You're a mind reader. But I thought we had agreed we wouldn't talk about that."

"It isn't true anyway. What's keeping them from having all the safe homes they want? I just don't see why they need to use
my
house."

"It's not your house. It was your mother's, and she left it to them."

"There you go, talking about it again. I tell you, she was coerced."

"I doubt it. The men next door were as surprised as we were."

"Well, maybe not directly, but they must have planted some kind of idea in her mind one way or another. There's no other explanation."

Eric knew better than to go into the other explanation. "Let's just drop the subject, huh? Tell me about the kids."

"The kids are fine. They're thriving. They do miss you, though. Right now they're watching some program on television and there's no dragging them away. It'll be over in about ten minutes. You can talk to them then."

"Okay, then tell me about that article."

"What article?"

"The long one you just asked me about—in the paper there."

"Oh yes. Well, it had these little interviews with couples who got married. One of them really got to me. Two women. I forget their names. Just a second. I'll go get it."

"Don't bother."

"No, I want to."

She was gone less than half a minute. "Here it is. The woman's name is Kate Ansel, and get this—she says they wanted to get married so she could adopt her partner's child from a previous marriage."

"Couldn't she do that anyway?"

"How would I know that? You'd think they could, wouldn't you? Get this, now—she wants to be sure that if anything happens to the mother the child will stay with her."

"Why should
that
get to you?"

"Well, what about the boy's father? He must have one somewhere."

"Exactly—somewhere. We don't know if he's been part of the kid's life."

"Of course he has! It's obvious why they got a divorce. It really is scandalous that they gave custody to the mother under those circumstances."

"C'mon, Liv. We don't know why they divorced. It could've been before she met that… What did you say her name was?"

"Kate Ansel."

"For all we know she could have left him before the child was born. Or he could have left her. For that matter, what makes you so sure they were married?"

"There you go making up scenarios."

"
You
made up the scenario. I'm just saying there are other possibilities. If you ask me, I think the kid is better off living with a parent who's raised him."

"Dennis says a boy needs a father."

Was that a note of blame he detected? He bit back the urge to point out it was her doing their kids were temporarily fatherless. "I agree, but not all boys have one," he said. "At least this kid would have
some
one. Isn't that better than putting him in a foster home or an orphanage?"

"Or a safe home for gay children?"

Eric ignored the dig. "Only if he's gay. From what I've read, kids brought up by same-sex couples turn usually turn out like everyone else. Is that so hard to believe?"

"You're always taking their side. It almost sounds like you approve of people of the same gender marrying each other."

"I don't. I've always thought marriage should be between a man and a woman, and I can't see how anything would make me change my mind. But it's easy to understand why they do it if they're allowed to."

"What kind of church would marry a same-sex couple? That's what I don't understand."

"A church that doesn't consider it a sin, I suppose."

"How can they not consider it a sin? Do they go by the Bible or don't they? And how can they call themselves a Christian church if they don't?"

"Ask them. What do I know about religion?"

"Not very much, it seems. You know, I've been thinking that churchgoing is something that's been missing from our lives."

"That's quite a turnaround from when we were first married."

"I don't mean for us. More for the kids' sake, really."

"A religious education?"

"Not just that. They make friends there. It gives them a feeling of belonging."

"A sense of identity."

"Yes, of knowing who they are. And a religious education wouldn't hurt either. The schools are so much more secular nowadays than they used to be. They don't teach them moral values anymore."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that!"

"It's true. You should hear what Jessie and Dennis have to say about the public schools."

"The schools are supposed to be much better here than in the South, and as far as what the Heymers have to say… Well, they don't have children of their own, so they don't know first hand, do they?"

"Pastor Rich agrees with them one hundred percent. He was asking me if I'd be sending the twins to his church school this fall."

"And you told him they'd be going back to Idaho, right? You did, didn't you?"

"You know I'm hoping this will all be over by then."

When he got off the phone, Eric looked for the interviews Liv had told him of or something like that in his local paper, but there wasn't anything. His curiosity got the better of him, and he googled Kate Ansel to get the whole story.