Read The Sabbathday River Online
Authors: Jean Hanff Korelitz
The Sabbathday River (37 page)
So Help Her God
SHE COULD NOT IMAGINE WHY THEY CALLED IT the witness standâNaomi would actually have preferred to stand, or to have the option of standing at least. But the seat she was directed to take was utterly ordinary, a plastic bucket on splayed metal spikes, even cracked in places and grubby everywhere else. It was not at all elevated but sat on the courtroom floor to one side of the judge's bench, diagonally across from the jury. Naomi looked at them and smiled nervously, but they were nervous, too, she saw, and did not smile back.
At the bailiff's request, she said her name. Then somebody held out a Bible.
Naomi gaped at it. Vaguely she understood what they wanted her to do, but she couldn't do that. Could she put her hand on her heart, maybe? Or pledge by something else, if she could think of something fast? Would they let her do that? The moment lengthened interminably.
“Ms. Roth?” somebody said.
Naomi looked up. Judge Hayes was frowning over at her.
“You need to swear.”
“I swear,” Naomi said. “I do. But ⦔
The bailiff was frowning at her. “You need to say it with your hand on the book.”
“But I don'tâ” She looked over at Judith, who was glaring at her, frantic.
Instantly Naomi placed her palm on the cheap leather binding of the Bible and swore to tell the truth, so
help her God.
For about five different things at once, she was ashamed of herself. She looked at the jury, embarrassed, and hoped they would forgive her for Heather's sake.
help her God.
For about five different things at once, she was ashamed of herself. She looked at the jury, embarrassed, and hoped they would forgive her for Heather's sake.
Charter, still in his seat, milked the moment a bit, shaking his head in wonder. She tried to pull herself together, but her thoughts raced on, heated and bitter. It took all her strength to make her heels stop drumming the floor.
“You did not want to testify today, did you, Ms. Roth?”
“That's true,” Naomi said, grateful at least that they'd begun, though a little perplexed by this opening volley.
“Am I right in thinking that you are not particularly in sympathy with the prosecution?”
“Yes,” she said, growing more confused by the moment.
“And yet I have decided to begin my case against Heather Pratt with the testimony of a person who thinks I'm wrong about her. Why do you think I'm doing that, Ms. Roth?”
It occurred to her that she should laugh, but she couldn't muster the humor. “I really don't have any idea.”
He sighed, as if she had disappointed him. “Well”âhe got painfully to his feetâ“why don't we talk about some things we
are
in agreement about. Would you please tell the jury about the morning of September 22 of last year.”
are
in agreement about. Would you please tell the jury about the morning of September 22 of last year.”
“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Of course. I was at the river. I mean the Sabbathday River. Just south of Goddard.”
“And what were you doing at the river?” Charter said.
“Running. Well”âshe blushedâ“jogging, really. I don't run very fast.”
“You're a regular jogger?”
“No. I should do it more.” The truth was, she hadn't been jogging at all since that day last fall.
“And where were you, precisely?”
Naomi closed her eyes, then opened them quickly. She did not like what she saw when her eyes were closed.
“Near Nate's Landing. I'd say half a mile upstream.”
“And did something make you stop in your jogging?”
Naomi paused. Powerfully, irrationally, she wanted to say no. No, she had seen nothing. No, she had found no dead baby. There was no Nelson Erroll, no medical examiner, no Robert Charter, no Heather Pratt. They could all rise and go home and laugh at their shared delusion of sin. She looked at him. He was waiting.
“I saw something,” Naomi said.
“What did you see?”
She remembered, and shook her head slightly. “I thought it was a doll. It made me think of a doll I'd had when I was little.”
“A doll in the river.” He seemed to consider. He was leaning over his desk, his weight on his braced arms. “And what did this doll look like?”
She knew what he wanted, but she wouldn't give it to him. “I couldn't see very well.”
“And yet you were intrigued enough to go closer.”
“I was, yes. I thought someone must be missing the doll. I could get it back for them.”
“You thought someone had left a doll in the river and you were going to get it back for them?”
It sounded much stupider in his voice. She frowned. Naomi nodded. “Yes.”
“Was the ⦠object close to the shore? So that you could reach out and grab hold of it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was in the middle of the river. I had to pick my way over the stones.”
“And the water would have been cold in late September, too, I imagine.
»
»
“Yes,” said Naomi.
“And yet you say you thought this was only a doll some careless child had lost? And you were willing to slip on the rocks and get wet in the cold water? Just to retrieve a doll?”
“It wasn't a big deal, really.”
“But rather excessive lengths to go to, for a
doll,
I think.”
doll,
I think.”
“Well, that's what I thought it was. I didn't think ⦔
“You didn't think what, Ms. Roth?”
“That it was anything else,” Naomi said lamely. Then she looked him squarely in the face. “I didn't think it was a baby, Mr. Charter. I just thought some little kid might be missing her doll.”
So sue me,
she thought. And, purely for her own satisfaction:
Go fuck yourself.
So sue me,
she thought. And, purely for her own satisfaction:
Go fuck yourself.
“And yet”âhe sighedâ“as we all now know, it was indeed a baby. Will you tell us please how you made this discovery?”
She concentrated, trying for a dispassionate, clinical pitch. “I touched the leg. It was very cold. I turned it over. She was ⦔ And here words failed her abruptly. She was ⦠what? Butchered? Incised? Pierced? Put down? “I knew,” she finally said, “that she was dead. A dead child.”
“And a girl,” he prodded.
“Yes. She was a girl.”
“Ms. Roth,” he said disingenuously, “I imagine this must be difficult for you, but I'd like you to tell the jury what you remember about the baby you found. About her face, for example.”
Her face? Naomi squeezed shut her eyes. She could not look very well at the face of the baby, its points of white flesh and open gray eyes, the dark hairs floating in water around the baby's head. She realized now, after many months, that her understanding of the baby's face had been first forgotten and then reassembled, a composite both antiseptic and impersonal: generic baby. Probably the baby she might describe would owe as much to the Gerber label as to what she had seen in the Sabbathday River. For the first time, she truly understood the vulnerability of memory. If Charter wanted pathos for the jury, she was incapable of delivering it, and not out of spite, either.
She looked at him now. “You know, I don't really remember the baby's face very well. I'm trying to, but I've sort of forgotten and I don't want to remember it wrong. She was very small and still, that I do remember. And very white.”
“The experience of finding the body must have been unpleasant.”
Naomi nodded in agreement, though she did not trust the sympathy in his voice for one instant.
“It was. Awful.”
“And what did you do when you found the baby's body?”
“I picked it up, of course. I ran to the road, back to my car. Then I wrapped it up and drove into town, to the police station.”
“What did you wrap it in?”
For a moment she stared at him, perplexed. Then she remembered: the sampler.
A is for Apple
. Grotesque, but surely a coincidence. Surely he wouldn't try to make anything out of that.
A is for Apple
. Grotesque, but surely a coincidence. Surely he wouldn't try to make anything out of that.
“I really don't remember,” Naomi said bravely, and Charter smiled at her and went to the evidence table. He took his time, hovering over the plastic bags, gazing down in particular at the knitting needle placed at the end nearest the jury, all very unnecessary, since Naomi herself could see the sampler perfectly well from where she was sitting, one slash of red over faded linen.
That's it over there
, she almost pointed.
That's it over there
, she almost pointed.
“Would this have been it?” Charter lifted the bag in question. The red ghost of an A under shining plastic.
“Very likely,” Naomi said dryly.
Charter entered the bag into evidence. The court reporter clicked. He held it out to Naomi.
“What is this, precisely, Ms. Roth?”
Well, it's a contemporary example of American folk art, Mr. Charter,
Naomi thought
, a testament to the national character, and to artistry even in the face of deprivation, a form of expression available to girls and women who were denied education and sexuality, not to mention the right to work or control their own bodies or direct their own lives or leave fathers who beat them or husbands who beat them and Probably, when you got right down to it, sons who beat them, too. And isn't it amazing that at the end of a long day of toil in a society that did not value her at all, a woman might have used the last hours before sleep and risk ruining her eyes to create something so useless and lovely as this sampler?
Naomi thought
, a testament to the national character, and to artistry even in the face of deprivation, a form of expression available to girls and women who were denied education and sexuality, not to mention the right to work or control their own bodies or direct their own lives or leave fathers who beat them or husbands who beat them and Probably, when you got right down to it, sons who beat them, too. And isn't it amazing that at the end of a long day of toil in a society that did not value her at all, a woman might have used the last hours before sleep and risk ruining her eyes to create something so useless and lovely as this sampler?
“It's a sampler, from my company.” She looked apologetically at the jury. “I direct a collective of artisans. We make these. Samplers.” She gestured lamely. “This one just happened to be in the back seat that day. I grabbed it and wrapped the baby up in it.”
“But the baby was dead. Surely you knew that.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why bother wrapping it up?”
“Because,” Naomi began, and then she heard what she was about to say and shuddered.
Because it was cold. Because I wanted to save her, for myself.
“Oh, it was just a stupid thing to do.”
Because it was cold. Because I wanted to save her, for myself.
“Oh, it was just a stupid thing to do.”
“Did you perhaps think, I can help this poor baby? I can save her?”
“I knew I couldn't save her,” she told Charter crossly. “She was dead.”
“Then why not just toss her in the back seat?”
“She was only a
baby
,” Naomi said, horrified. Then she was horrified
for a different reason. So easily trapped, after all. She did not look at Judith. Her face was hot now, and she could feel the shake in her jaw, tiny, then seemingly less tiny.
baby
,” Naomi said, horrified. Then she was horrified
for a different reason. So easily trapped, after all. She did not look at Judith. Her face was hot now, and she could feel the shake in her jaw, tiny, then seemingly less tiny.
“Only a baby,” Charter said cruelly. He walked back to his table and half sat, half leaned on it. “Just out of interest, which of your artisans made this particular sampler?” He touched it. The plastic crinkled.
“Listen”âshe leaned forwardâ“it only happened to be there. It doesn't mean anything.”
The judge leaned over. “You need to answer the question, Ms. Roth. Don't anticipate, please.”
“Thank you, your honor,” Charter said affably.
“Well, as you know,” said Naomi tightly, “that particular sampler was made by Heather Pratt. I'd picked it up a few days before and hadn't gotten around to bringing it in. I probably had a few other people's work in the back seat, too, but I just happened to touch that one first.”
He nodded sagely.
“Well, let's talk about Heather Pratt,” Charter said, as if the subject had come up naturally, and out of the blue. “How long have you known Heather Pratt?”
“I've known Heather for about two years. Her work was brought to me by Stephen Trask. Heather had been working for Stephen at the sports center, but she wanted to change her job.”
“You had not come across Heather before that?”
“No reason I would have. She was in high school.”
Other books
A Man Overboard by Hopkins, Shawn
Travels with Herodotus by Ryszard Kapuscinski
A Gentleman's Luck by Hill, Nicole
Survive the Night by Danielle Vega
After the Crux by Worth, Dani
Fiendish Schemes by K. W. Jeter
Sarah Bishop by Scott O'Dell
Winter's Thaw by Stacey Lynn Rhodes
Amanda Scott by Lord Greyfalcon’s Reward
The Chocolate Lovers' Club by Matthews, Carole