Until (17 page)

He gently brought her face closer as Betty said, “I love you,” to him for the first time.

She shook her head, unable to control the passion within any longer. “God, I love you so much, Evander,” she said again, with tears clouding her voice.

“I love you, too, baby. You're my whole world,” Evander said softly in her ear. “You're my everything.”

Betty had never told anyone in her life she loved them. No one. She had always prevented people, and especially men, from getting close enough so that the utterance of such words was even a possibility. Now her defenses were weakened and her walls had melted. Finally she was ready to love, and to be loved.

They kissed with passion in Betty's office. As she turned her body around, they lay belly to belly and kissed with warmth on her couch. She ignored Carol's knock at her door as Evander said the words repeatedly into her ear and she replied in kind, feeling freer with each utterance. These were their first kisses after consummating their
I love yous.
These were the last passionate kisses they would ever share.

Of all the
days Betty had worked in the firm, this was by far the toughest. Gardenias and dogwood blossoms sweetened the air with their essence as they prepared to kiss winter good-bye. Birds flew in arrow formation high above as they bid the state a fond farewell on their pilgrimage north. But as she sat at her desk dressed in black, Betty tried to think about Jacqui and her man problems or Evander, whom she was already missing, so she would not have to think about her mentor's funeral. She played the radio a little louder than usual and kept her door closed, which for her was very uncommon. Betty wanted to concentrate on the work at hand like the beam of a laser, because in hours the firm would be vacated in honor of Jack Murphy.

Before she dressed that morning she debated whether to bring another suit to change into after the services, because she imagined how depressing it would be to see everyone in black all day. As she drove into the garage, she decided to drive down to the executive parking area. And there it was. Renfro's extended-cab pickup in the first spot. The parking space that did not seem right without the mirror-black Mercedes SL600. spot. She could not figure out why it made her fingers grip the steering wheel until her knuckles lightened, but it did. After all, it was only a parking space. Just a few square feet of blacktop which, given the type of
man Murphy was, he would not have had a problem with at all. But as she drove back up to the general parking area on the roof of the garage, she passed R. Raymond Patterson headed to his new spot, and yet another tear fell. For years she could not muster a drop, but once again a warm tear glistened down her face and over her lips. While she was hurt, the tears also cleaned the spaces deep within her soul.

The obsequies for Jonathan Alexander Murphy were stately, honorable, and well attended. All of the local officials and many statewide dignitaries were in the small cathedral to pay their respects. The governor relieved the lieutenant governor of such duties on that day and sat beside Agnes and the boys during the services. All of the partners of the firm sat with their spouses behind the elected officials and Jack Murphy's family. Instead of sitting alone, Betty elected to sit with a few members of the clerical staff who had decided to come by themselves.

From her seat in the back, Betty noticed the white marble pillars of the cathedral were encircled by fresh ivy. The coffin bearing his remains was covered with his favorite flower, white daisies. Above them was the boys' choir. Their voices blended in a tightly woven harmony as they sang sotto voce without visible direction. And then Betty noticed Agnes Murphy. Her veiled face looked tired yet strong. Sitting in the pew, she looked like the photo of Coretta Scott King in April of sixty-eight. Betty could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to be the rock for the rest of her family because she knew all eyes were on her. She knew what Jack would have wanted her to do. But deep inside, Betty felt she was just a step away from losing it altogether.

Looking at Agnes for the first time since Jack's death drove home for Betty just how dark and somber this loss was. She felt sorrow because she and Agnes had spoken often of the sacrifices the family had made to assist Jack in building what was now considered one of the top firms in the country. “We mortgaged the house, ate so many kidney beans I refuse to have them served in our home now, just to make ends meet,” Agnes had told Betty. She'd spoken of how they'd been on the verge of divorce several times due
to associated pressure, yet they were now enjoying the best years of their marriage and looked forward to spending the rest of their lives together.

Sitting directly behind the governor and Mrs. Murphy were Mr. and Mrs. Renfro. On that day Franklin Renfro appeared different to Betty. Usually she felt his mourning was a little disingenuous. But at that moment he appeared heavy-hearted. As Betty watched him, he never blinked, not even once. He did not look at who attended, nor did he appear concerned with who may or may not be watching him. Betty watched as his wife handed him a handkerchief and he did not respond. Then she nudged his elbow to get his attention. Betty wondered if the enormity of the job he'd wanted so badly had finally hit home. If it had sunk in that Jack Murphy would never again enter the doors of Murphy, Renfro and Collins. That he would never walk into the courtroom with his charm and automatically make the opposing attorneys quietly slouch in their seats. As he sat with his arm secure around his new wife, Betty imagined that he felt he had the tiger he had always wanted by the tail. But now he had no idea what to do with it.

After a few words of acknowledgment, “Ave Maria” was piped throughout the building as the attendees read Jack's obituary. And then from the front row, a young gentleman stood, breathed in deeply, and reached down to kiss his mother. He then proceeded to stand in front of his father's casket to give the eulogy. Betty listened as Jack and Agnes's youngest son, who was in his first year of law school, started by telling them a story. A story of how his father had taken him and his brothers fishing when he was in middle school. About stopping on the road to purchase a larger ice chest for the catch. And how Jack had eaten Happy Meals with them that night under the stars.

As the gathering laughed and shook their heads, Betty smiled as she thought about the first lesson she'd learned from the masterful counselor. She'd been leaving the courtroom after her first defeat in a case she felt she should have won. As he'd walked toward her, she'd felt herself tremble. But he'd highlighted every positive thing she'd done and then said, “Just tell them the story, Betty. Unlike the gobbledygook
they teach you in law school, this is not rocket science. We make it tough, but it really isn't. They don't care about statues. They could give less than a tinker's damn about precedence. Just tell them the story,” he'd said. “Just tell them a story.” Obviously his son had listened well.

In the processional out of the church, the body was carried by a gathering of old men wearing white gloves who were colleagues at one time or another with Jack. As they walked in lockstep down the red carpet toward the awaiting hearse, the sounds of “Amazing Grace” permeated the air on the pipe organ. No, it was not a traditional Catholic song, but it was one of Jack's favorites. Agnes Murphy followed them as the others filed out in order of importance behind her. As she walked down the aisle, she made occasional eye contact with a few special friends of the family. Even in her most solemn hour, she attempted to encourage the others to keep a stiff upper lip. As she passed Betty, she gave her not only a glance, but a subtle smile. To Betty she was truly a special lady.

Betty covered her eyes on the bright and windy Floridian day as she walked down the steps of the cathedral. The winds carried the song of a lone kilted bagpipe player as he stood in front of the sleek white hearse. With each release of air from his dimpled cheeks, the pleading sounds emanating from the instrument were strained and mournful as he played “Danny Boy.” To Betty, it did not seem like the type of song one would play on such an occasion, but it seemed apropos because if anything, Jonathan Alexander Murphy was an atypical attorney.

It had been another dull weekend without Evander. He had not been to Orlando for six months prior to the visit there with Betty, but this was the second weekend in a row he had made the trip, and this weekend had extended to Monday. The intuitive part of Betty said all was not well in their relationship, but the rational part of her pleaded for patience. As she put the documents back in the appropriate files after her daily 8:30
A.M.
telephone meeting with Renfro,
she considered for a moment driving down for a surprise visit, but with her workload, those thoughts soon faded.

Each day in Betty's meeting with the senior partner he wanted to know three things. What had she done on the case the previous day? What was she going to do that day? And what were her personal thoughts regarding the matter? Having never worked with Renfro, initially Betty felt uncomfortable with all of the attention. It was always said that while he did not have the courtroom presence of Jack Murphy, no one could question his attention to detail. Each Tuesday until the start of the proceedings he had Kathy block out five hours for all the attorneys assigned to the case to meet with him in the conference room. He asked that they each bring relevant files to their meeting. If a point was brought up he did not like hearing about, he wanted to see documentation. The unconventional way he prepared for the case agitated the other attorneys, but not Betty. The more she thought about it, the more she relished the opportunity to prove her worth as a litigator. While at times she felt she was tap-dancing for the blind, based on her record and her conversation with Mrs. Murphy, she knew this was still a golden opportunity.

That night as she walked down the hallway, Betty spoke to a couple of the office custodians and then she reached the door of Gregory Davis's office and noticed him busily at work. After a quick glance at her watch, she looked back and caught his eye.

“You still here?” Betty called out over the sound of the vacuum cleaners and buffers roaring up and down the long hallway.

“Yeah. What time is—” and then he noticed his watch. “Holy shit! It's nine-thirty. I had no idea it was this late.”

“Oh well,” Betty replied with a smile. “I'll see you back here in a couple of hours, I guess. Don't forget, we have that meeting with Renfro tomorrow morning.”

“Forget? Why do you think I'm here now?” he said with a shout over the background cleaning noise. “You leaving?”

“Yeah. I've been in the library since about five. Sometimes I just need a change of scenery to concentrate.”

“Well, if you let me get my stuff,” he said, gesturing toward his briefcase, “I'll walk down with you.”

“Sure.”

Wearing a wrinkled JCPenney's suit, Gregory walked Betty to her parking space, carrying her box of homework. “I can't believe you take this much stuff home every night. You're something else. I just want you to know that,” he said.

“Well, actually I don't take this much home each night. Just Mondays so I can prepare for my meeting with Renfro.”

“Aren't those meetings a trip? Can you believe having a five-hour meeting on this one case each week? I mean I know it's a big case, but isn't that overkill? And also making us haul all those files up there?” Gregory loosened his tie and quickly placed his hand back under the box. “And what's the deal with that antiquated file system? Didn't that go out of style with Perry Mason and the Edsel? But then again,” Gregory laughed, “so did his ties. And would you believe he calls me up every other day with all of these questions? As if he thinks I'm slacking off or something.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I worked with him on a couple of cases before. Neither of them went to court, but he was never like this. Never this . . . I don't know, I guess
uptight
is the word I'm looking for. I mean he's always been anal, but not like this.”

“Well, maybe it's because there's no Jack in the office now.”

Gregory smiled at Betty as he set the box down gently on the pavement beside her car. As he ran his hand through his conservatively cut brown hair he said, “You know, Betty, I don't know how to say this, but . . . how do you do it? I mean, how do you work with Renfro with his being like he . . . well, you know. If it were me, I don't think I could even continue to work here. I hate to ask this, but as a black person, how do you walk in that office of his?”

“It's tough. Very tough sometimes, but you deal with it. It's not like I just woke up black one morning. I mean, I
came to this firm with goals in mind like everyone else, and if I allow Renfro to make me resign, then I've given him power over me I don't think anyone should have. So I bite my lip, overlook the small stuff, and do my job.”

“Well, I would like to think that I would react that way. But I couldn't swear to it. On the other hand, we are not exactly cut from the same cloth. I mean, you came up with all of those facts that you introduced in the meeting last week,” Gregory continued. “How the hospital doctors and insurance company connected. How could you have known to interview the guy in Northern California or about the sealed court records in Nevada?”

“Just going through all the files with a fresh eye and luck, I guess.”

“Luck my a— Nothing,” Gregory said with a smile. “I mean it. Betty, I leave this place and go home and work for another two or three hours each night just to try to keep up with you. I bet you I have not taken one Saturday or Sunday off since this case landed in my lap.” And then leaning against her car he said, “Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but I was more than a little jealous when I saw the role you were playing in this case. Initially I would bone up on my facts to try to show you up. Now I do it just to keep up. Like most of these guys here, I thought you were a little overrated. We thought you were getting powder-puff cases just to make you look good, as Murphy's girl. We thought that Askew case and especially that Lopez case were set up. I mean, there was no way an associate could pull that off alone. But after working with you . . .” Davis shook his head, running out of superlatives. “You know, if I had my act together half as much as you have yours, counselor . . .”