Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 (23 page)

“Which is?”

“That house spooked me. Everywhere I looked was his wife’s something or other. I would say, oh, aren’t these towels pretty? His daughter would say, my mom embroidered them. Or I would say, oh, this is such a beautiful afghan, and his son would say, my mom made it. There was so much stuff in that house of hers that it would never be mine. Even these beautiful murals of birds and the marsh that she painted on their dining room walls. Besides, that house was hers and the whole plan Nat had was just greedy and nasty. He’s a terrible man.”

The courtroom was silent as everyone took it all in. It was the first time I had ever had a hostile witness who actually wound up testifying for my client.

“Thank you, Ms. Johnson. We may have to call you again, so please stay in town.”

“Oh, I ain’t going no place! I wouldn’t miss this for nothing.”

I nodded my head.

“Your witness,” I said to Albright.

“Your honor, we have no questions at this time.”

“Then you may step down, Ms. Johnson. The defense would like to call Dr. Claudia Kelly.”

Nat and Albright looked around to see who Dr. Claudia Kelly was and in minutes it was all revealed.

Claudia took the stand, and after the requisite questions she explained in her most professional manner that the sum total of all of Charlene Johnson’s surgical procedures could well have exceeded fifty to sixty thousand dollars. I entered the receipts I had found into evidence and made the remark that these were marital assets of which my client was entitled to half.

Poor Charlene. She had been a good girl for as long as she could. Charlene jumped from her seat and began screaming as loud as she could.

“If you think you’re getting these back, you can
forget it
! These boobs are
mine
and these
teeth
are mine and this
fanny
is all mine! Go get your
own
because there ain’t
no way
…”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Judge Unamused Adrian spoke. “Ms. Johnson! Sit down and be quiet! Let me tell you something, your plastic surgery bills are the most offensive use of marital assets I have ever seen in the entirety of my professional career. Normally, in so much as the definition of
normal
applies here, your
improvements
would be evaluated and fifty percent of the cost of the surgeries would be awarded to the wife. But if I hear one peep from you, one
peep,
I will order half of them
literally
removed! This court is in recess for lunch. We reconvene at two o’clock.”

H
UEY
and Byron were taking Miss Olivia back to the hotel for a quiet lunch, and the rest of us planned to walk to a nearby restaurant. It was unusual that the judge had ordered such a long lunch break, but that was probably due to her need for recovery time from the overall vulgarity of the morning’s session. God knows, I needed a break.

Claudia, Rebecca and I were leaving the courthouse when I saw Julian coming toward us.

“Abigail! I knew you were good, girl, but I didn’t know how brilliant you were!” He gave me a big kiss on the cheek. “My God! What a show! Shelby must be ready to throw Albright right out the window!”

“Albright’s an idiot,” I said. “They should’ve settled.”

“Like the young people say,” Claudia said, “no freaking duh!”

We took two more steps, and suddenly Tisdale Simms took Rebecca’s arm to stop her and speak to her.

“Becca. Forgive me. I had no idea about Nat and his…his running around and all of this horrible business. I’m an old man. He’s my only son. I
believed
in him.”

Rebecca burst into tears and blurted, “But I was married to him for all these years and you never even called me! You never even called me
once
! I took care of your wife all through her illness until the day she died. I gave you two grandchildren. I did everything I could…” Rebecca’s voice, filled with pain she had never spoken of, tapered off into whisper, and then she said, “Oh, what’s the use?”

She pulled her arm away and he grabbed it again.

“Listen, please! You’re right. I should’ve realized there were two sides to every story. I’m asking you to
forgive me,
Becca. When this whole thing is settled those children are going to need a man in their lives. Nat’s not going to be any use to you after today. Or me either. That lying sack of shit in there is not the nice boy his mother and I raised. I don’t know how in the world he became so deceitful to you, to me, to everyone. I can help you. I want to help you. You and the children are all I’ve got now. Please don’t turn your back on me.”

I was standing right next to her and listening to everything they said to each other. I could feel Rebecca’s frustration and disappointment in her father-in-law. It was so typical of families and how they divided their allegiances during a divorce. I looked at Tisdale’s face, deeply lined from years of living, his teeth worn down from age and his red-rimmed eyes mirroring the sincerity of his plea.

“You’re their grandfather and nothing will ever change that. I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I probably would’ve done the same thing if I were in your shoes.” She didn’t hug him. She just stepped away. “When this is over, we’ll talk, okay?”

He nodded his head, “Okay, then. Thanks.”

When he was out of hearing I said to Rebecca, “That was the noble thing to do, Rebecca. Makes me proud to know you.”

A small grin of satisfaction crossed her face. But it was a grin born of pain. It made me think again of the well of disappointments and slights Rebecca must have felt in the absence of Tisdale’s loyalty. And the loyalty of her friends and acquaintances. She had done as much charity work as any woman I had ever known and there had been no calls from them, wondering what they could do to help. But you’re only as good as your last dinner dance, and perhaps she had fallen out of that circuit. It was summer after all, and she had moved to Pawleys. Yes, that was probably why.

“So where should we go?” I said. “I feel like a big hunk of raw meat for lunch.”

Claudia giggled, and at that same moment a man tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me! I’m Frank Del Mastro from the
Post and Courier
. Dr. Kelly, would you like to comment on the judge’s remark regarding Charlene Johnson being in possession of Rebecca Simms’s assets?”

“We don’t talk to the press, Claudia,” I said.

“Hey, I’m a whole big girl, Abigail,” she said with a tone that surprised me, but then, has anyone ever been able to tell a doctor how to behave? “Listen, Frank, you can go tell the world that I said if Judge Shelby wants to repossess fifty percent of Charlene Johnson’s improvements, I’ll do the procedures on the house!”

The reporter scampered away, taking notes and very pleased with himself. Claudia burst out laughing, and then Rebecca got tickled. I stood there in Mother Superior mode for a moment, and then I realized how funny the thought of it was. Over lunch at Slightly North of Broad (SNOBs to the foodie cognoscenti), needless to say, we were reduced to giggling ninth graders, describing Charlene missing half of everything.

“Can you see it? She goes to sit down and needs a pillow to even things out!”

“Wait! Visualize this! She’s trying to sell a warranty package to some poor man and has to put a canteloupe down one side of her shirt first!”

We thought we were pretty darn clever until we got back to the courthouse. On the front steps was a film crew from every local network affiliate, newspaper and radio station.

“I guess it’s a slow news day,” I said. “Don’t talk to them.”

We were bombarded with questions, microphones and clicking cameras. With Claudia on one side of Rebecca and me on the other, we took the steps as quickly as we could. They were on our heels like bloodhounds.

“Do you think the judge will really make Charlene give back a breast implant?”

“And half her buttocks?”

“How much of a settlement are you expecting?”

No comment! No comment! No comment!

They followed us right in to the courtroom, where the public seats were completely filled and the overflow lined the walls. I knew that when Judge Shelby entered the courtroom, she was not going to be pleased. I was right.

Everyone stood, and she scanned the room carefully, putting everyone present on notice that this was a serious proceeding. Her expression was inscrutable, but I knew enough about her from the morning’s session to know she wasn’t about to allow her courtroom to become a circus.

“Thank you for your respect to the court. Please be seated.” She folded her arms across her desk and looked across the sea of faces, faces anticipating an afternoon of entertainment, making mockery of the broken lives of Rebecca and Nat, the takeaway value being raunchy gossip about Charlene’s transformation and how pathetic Rebecca had become. Shelby reached up, removed her reading glasses from her head, folded them, placed them on her desk and leaned back. The room was absolutely silent as she scanned it once more. “All right then,” she said, “I can see we have a lot of newcomers to today’s hearing, and I also see that a lot of you are from the press. I’m going to lay down some guidelines, which, if not followed precisely, will result in your immediate expulsion from the courtroom. No cell phones, no talking among yourselves and no pictures are to be taken, which includes the videotaping of this session. Any and all conversations with the defendant, the plaintiff or the witnesses in this case are to be conducted outside this building. Do I make myself clear?”

There was some rumbling and movement and the sounds of cell phones being powered down. Throats were cleared, cameras were put back in their cases and the courtroom became quiet. Judge Shelby motioned to Albright to get the party started.

“I’d like to call Dr. Karen Tedesco to take the stand.”

Dr. Tedesco came forward, was sworn in and took her place in the witness chair. She was the quintessential image of a fifties high school guidance counselor. Imperious and smug. Brittle-mannered and buttoned up. Unmanicured but tidy, not that tidy was bothersome, but her tidiness probably extended to excruciatingly clean hairbrushes and refrigerator hydrator drawers compulsively scrubbed with disinfecting agents in the belief the efforts helped to ward off head colds or neuralgia. Her shoe rack probably held ten pairs of round-toed sensible shoes and a row of blouses covered in tiny prints. She probably hadn’t had great sex in thirty years if ever and
never
with someone of another social class. Okay, okay, you know the type.

Her identity and profession noted for the record, Albright began his questioning.

“Dr. Tedesco, how long have you known the Simms children?”

“For five years.”

“And would you call them troubled children?”

“No, not at all. They were good children. Never in any trouble.”

“Good. Now, can you please tell the court how you came to know the children had problems?”

“It began last winter when I found them waiting in the rain for their mother to pick them up from school. It was getting dark and I saw them outside on the front lawn of the campus. They were getting drenched, poor things. So I went up to them and said,
Is someone coming to pick you up?
Sami, the older one, said something like,
Mom’s late again
. So I just sort of put that in the back of my head and waited another twenty minutes until she arrived. Mrs. Simms said there was an accident on the Cooper River Bridge and she was stuck. Then it happened several more times and I started making notes about it. I mean, how many accidents are there on the bridge? Not that many.” At that point Dr. Tedesco straightened herself and pursed her lips in Rebecca’s direction. “Let’s be honest. It’s not safe for a child to be left like that what with all you read in the papers these days.”

“So, the children’s safety was compromised because they were frequently left unattended after school, sometimes in the dark and sometimes in inclement weather.”

“In my professional opinion, yes, it was. And their health as well.”

“What other kinds of things got your attention about the Simms children?”

“Well, in the early years, Mrs. Simms was always around the school. She served as class mother many times and was very active in the parents’ organization. Suddenly, I didn’t see her at all! She didn’t attend the science fair and other activities the school had for the children to show what they were doing in class. I actually called her to see if everything was all right in the home and she didn’t sound right to me.”

“What do you mean she didn’t sound right?”

“Well, if you want my honest opinion, she sounded a little whoopee.”

“Can you define whoopee for the court?”

“Of course, you know what that is—either alcohol or drugs.”

“Do you recall what time of day or night you made that phone call?”

“Yes, it was around five o’clock. I remember that distinctly because I was about to go home. My colleagues leave as fast as they can, but I like to stay and do paperwork when the school finally gets quiet.” She looked up at Shelby as though the judge would put in a good word for her with the board of education. Shelby all but sniffed at her.

“Okay, just one more question, Dr. Tedesco. How did you come to be the one to help the children write letters to Judge Shelby asking to live with their father instead of their mother?”

“One day I saw Sami crying in the hallway. Her locker was jammed and she couldn’t open it. That happens from time to time. Anyway, she was obviously very frustrated, and so I asked her if she wanted to come into my office and talk for a moment. She said that she would. Well, then the poor girl started pouring out her heart to me. She said her mother had turned into a monster and that she fought with the whole family all the time. She seemed to know that her father intended to file for divorce and she didn’t want to live with her mother.”

“Can you qualify
monster
? I mean, were there specific incidences of cruel behavior on the part of the mother?”

“No, not exactly
cruel
. I would say that Sami felt that she couldn’t make her mother happy no matter what she did. She was a very unhappy young lady. As was her brother. She begged me to help them.”

“I see. No further questions.”

I stood to have my moment with Dr. Tedesco.

“Dr. Tedesco. How common is it for teenage girls to be unhappy?”

“Oh!” she said, smiling. “Teenagers? They’re never happy! They love to find things to complain about, but that’s also a natural part of the maturation process—you know, that the adults have to be wrong or out of style so that they can justify breaking away and trying things on their own.”

“Yes.” I paused. “Well, that’s always been my thought too. It’s a very volatile time in their lives, hormones kicking in, worrying about popularity, getting into college and all those things…am I right?”

“Oh, my yes! Just look at the national suicide statistics. Shocking!”

“Yes, and heartbreaking too. I guess what has me bothered about your testimony so far is that there’s no abuse, no serious neglect, nothing beyond Sami’s normal fluctuating teenage emotions over a ride home from school, which—correct me if I’m wrong—is ten blocks from their home, and that in her teenage judgment she thinks that she and her brother would fare better in the custody of their father. Did she tell you why she thought that was the case?”

“Well, I know that their father spent a lot of time with them, especially on the weekends, taking them to Clemson games all over the southeast. Sami wants to go to Clemson and become a cheerleader. I guess they have more fun with him.”

“More fun? Fun?” I stopped and looked at the judge. “Well, fun
does
have its place in a parent-child relationship. Not as important as raising children with good morals, values and good personal habits.”

“Objection!”

“Sustained. Ms. Thurmond? You know better.”

I arched an eyebrow at Shelby and she arched one back in agreement. Fun Dad. Party Dad. Good-time Dad. No, the message was clear to all present and Tedesco was not happy about her testimony being trivialized.

“All right, her mother was late picking them up some of the time. Do you recall when that began?”

“Yes, it was last winter, because it started getting dark earlier.”

“And this implication that Mrs. Simms sounded like she had been using drugs or alcohol when you spoke to her on the phone. When was that?”

“That was sometime after Easter. And before school ended for the year.”

“And you said earlier while being questioned by Mr. Albright that you began to document how frequently Rebecca Simms was late to pick up her children. Can you tell the court how many times that was?”