Chapter 16

The middle-aged man was smiling. Sometimes lawyers were able to actually be proud of themselves, lawyer jokes notwithstanding.

“Yes, Missus Danson, you will be able to see your son on the fifteenth of every month from here on out,” said Red Carlton esquire. The woman across from him was crying.

“Mister Carlton, I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” said Leah Danson.

I sat watching the Tableau play out. She, my wife, had no chance of ever seeing her son again, until at least after he turned eighteen: he was thirteen now. But due to the efforts of the big man, now she could. The boy had been only five when she went inside. He’d likely remember her though not too well.

Leah jumped and went and hugged the law dog. He was surprised, but not wholly unhappy with her expression of happiness.

It occurred to me that my situation per my daughter was, at least in kind, not all that different than was hers. Yes, in kind, but not in length of separation nor in reason for the separation.

At any rate, I was very likely—tonight—to receive a goodly amount of gratitude myself for the woman’s good fortune. Well, it was her marriage to me that caused the big man to put Red Carlton on the case. And, Red Carlton seldom lost a case, any kind of case; actually, never. I’d be thanking him myself at the appropriate time, oh yeah!

The good news for my wife put me in a good mood. I was in the office early, and I actually had a couple of leads for my soon to arrive secretary to put into the books and arrange interviews for. A half hour later my new assistant arrived. And my mouth opened and closed like a fish’s and that for some time.

“Yes, it’s me, and before you go off on me, I’ve done quite a bit of this kind of secretarial thing for my husband,” said Stephanie Halstead.

“Shit!” I said.

“Not if you have a brain in your head. Jack, Herb is on your side. He’s on your side as much if not more than am I!” she said.

“You are aware that part of my secretary’s job description is cleaning the bathroom at the end of each shift I said. You know like I did for seventeen years,” I said. She did look kind of shocked at my words. But she didn’t lose a step in her response.

“Okay, if that’s for real, I’m fucking onboard,” she said. I nodded, and I was not kidding. I couldn’t do it, not with my arm and leg. And, Donald, who’d been doing it, had to come in of the street every other day to take care of things, would now mostly be on the street. The good news for her, if that’s what it was, was that the job would be an easy one.

The bad news for me was that I would be dealing with my ex-wife almost continually every single day. The even worse news, I guess it was worse news, was that she was eating it up! Oh, but there was more good news, she served me coffee, the way I liked it, every morning without my asking her. Shit!

It was her first day and she had been answering phones and keeping records of what we were doing, which was practically nothing; well, we did have the new leads, two of them, but so far, they were only leads. It was clearly going to be a while before we were going to be operating in the black. And, when we finally were operating in the black, she’d be gone. I’m not sure how I felt about that. Well, she did make the coffee the way I liked it.

On another front. I wondered how the big man was seeing things. I figured to be finding out sooner rather than later, but in truth, that remained to be seen. And then it was a few days later, and no big problems had come up.

While I was musing, she came into my office and waited for me to say something. I finally did.

“Okay?” I said.

“The Morton lead, the wife called, she’d like to have somebody come out and talk with her,” said Stephanie. I nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Give Don a heads up. He can go out and get the info.” She nodded and turned to go back to her station. For the record Don didn’t have a car of his own yet, he was in fact using mine, a two-year-old Buick; I liked Buicks.

Over the next few hours we got four more calls: mostly from refs Donald had picked up at the court house. She took them all, and made the appointments, and very professionally, I thought. She clearly had done some work for her husband.

Our phone lines were cells, so that if we were out and someone wanted to get hold of us, they could. It was lunch time. She came into my office again. She had a concerned look on her face.

“Something wrong?” I said. She looked like something was wrong.

“No, no, I just wondered if I’d be out of line to ask you to lunch, my treat?” she said. I sagged back in my seat.

“I guess not, this one time,” I said. I figured she wanted to ask me a few questions: she’d only been on the job for three days. For my part, I was going to assure her that she was doing a good job for us. I had to say, that so far, the relationship thingy had not been a problem and I appreciated that.

“Sam’s?” I said. She nodded.

“Sure,” she said. “It’s cheap enough for me to afford.” I snickered.

“Well, that’s good,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to have to dip into the rent money.” Her turn to snicker.

“Good of you,” she said.

“Yeah, I try to be a good guy,” I said. I got a look from her for what I’d just said.

Sam’s was busy. Well, it was lunch time. We got a booth near the window. I liked the window booths best: lighter foot traffic, and I think the benches were a bit roomier.

The waitress came, took our orders brought us waters and knew from experience to bring coffees too: well we were in a lot.

“In case you were going to ask, yes, you’re doing a good job,” I said, opening the conversation.

“Thank you,” she said, “and I was going to ask.”

“Can I ask? My being around... ?” she started.

“Not a problem. It’s business, And, there’s the truth that I have me a woman now; and well, that makes things easier. I won’t say I don’t think about things, I do, but I’m trying and Leah is helping me in that,” I said. She nodded.

“I’m glad for you. I mean it, Jack. I want you to be happy. I want you to be okay with me being around. Just so you’ll know it was Barbie’s idea for me to go to work for you. At first both myself and Herb thought she was crazy; but well, we thought it over and figured the worst that could happen was that you’d tell me to go to hell. So anyway, I’m glad it seems to be working out, her idea.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Barbie’s idea: I gotta say it seemed crazy to me too at first, but her idea does seem to be working out. And, it is temporary, so...”

“Yes, temporary. I do want to say I hope you won’t just kick me out at the first feasible opportunity. I would like a chance to prove to you a few things. And, I do like working here even though I’ve just started,” she said.

“We’ll see,” I said. “Before there would have been no way. But things being what they are at the moment; well, maybe things will work out okay.”

“I sure hope so,” she said. I knew she was sincere in what she was saying. But there was still a lot of bad stuff out there waiting to potentially bite me in the ass. I guess we’d be seeing.

She knocked on the door. It was a full minute before it was answered. The man answering the door was in his mid-sixties for sure. The visitor and the man stared at each other briefly.

“So, you’re here after all,” said Juan Reyes. “You kill my son, and you dare to come to this door.”

“I have a right to see my son,” said Leah Danson. The man didn’t comment, but he did open the door a bit wider to admit the woman: the woman who had shot his son and had spent eight years in prison for doing so.

The boy standing in the back of the room knitted his brow. He was thirteen, the boy, and was but four when his mother had killed his father.

“Brucie?” said Leah, addressing the boy for the first time in nine years. The boy did not respond.

“The two of you can go out on the patio to talk,” said Juan Reyes. Leah Danson nodded. There was a big man outside already, but seated toward the back of the yard. He was clearly there to make sure nothing untoward went down: untoward in the eyes of the grandparents of the boy.

Mother and son took seats at the redwood picnic table across from each other. “You know who I am,” said Leah.

“Yes, I kinda remember and Grandma told me things,” he said. “You’re my mother.” Leah Danson nodded.

“You know why I haven’t been around for you?” she said.

“Yes, you were in jail,” he said. “You hit dad with something and he died.”

“Yes,” she said. “Do you know why?”

“Grandma said it was because dad wanted to be with a different woman,” he said. The boy clearly new the basics.

“Yes, well sort of,” she said.

Mother and son talked for the full hour, the allowed time. The big man came to the table and said that the time was up for the visit. Leah looked up at him and nodded.

“I will be back next month if that’s okay with you,” she said. The boy shrugged, but didn’t say anything more. “Okay, good,” she said. The big man escorted her out. He escorted her to her car.

“Mister and missus Reyes, will cooperate, but there can be no taking the boy away from the house,” he said, as she got in her car.

“I understand,” she said. “I will be back next month. Thank you for letting me talk to him without interruption; it is appreciated.”

“No problem,” he said, and he actually smiled. She responded with a smile of her own.

We had just arrived at the Hard Hat and been seated. Leah and I had been making a habit of Friday date nights for some time. It allowed me to decompress from the week’s business, and her to get out and enjoy the freedom of being no longer a prisoner. It cannot be fully appreciated by people, who have not experienced it, just how devastating it is to a person’s psyche that being in prison actually is.

“You know being able to order a drink, let alone good food, is still just too much to fathom. I’ve been out now almost a year and I still can’t believe it. I mean that I’m out of that awful place,” said Leah

“Trust me, I completely understand. I’ve been out almost six years, and I am just getting to a place where I actually feel footloose and fancy free,” I said. She laughed at my wordology.

“Yes, well I can believe it. I was inside less than half as long as you and as bad as it is for me; I can fully appreciate how you must feel,” she said.

Over the next while we drank and ate and danced a little; I wasn’t much of a hoofer given my disability, but I could fake the slow stuff pretty good.

I noticed her glancing several times over at a table some little distance across the floor. “You know somebody over there?” I said.

“I think so,” she said. “Not sure.”

“Hmm, you wanna talk to them?” I said.

“No, no, I don’t remember names too good,” she said, “I’d just embarrass myself.” I shrugged. But then something odd happened.

We were dancing to something slow. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

A stranger, to me, but maybe not to Leah cut in. Shades of a homecoming dance long past. Leah looked at me, I shrugged, and headed back to our table I watched as they toured the floor. Maybe two minutes later; the interloper returned my wife to me, and thanked me for my tolerance. Well, that put him one up on Donald Miller.

“So, do you have a new admirer?” I said.