Chapter 6: Preparation

Eric Stewart was part of the prosecuting team in Judge O’Brien’s courtroom Monday January 14, 1980. First Jack stood up in front, conducting the prosecution, and he talked to the people involved in the next case. Then he went up and dealt with the next case while his partner went back into the space for those watching. A judge of a major felony trial would never let people hold conversations back there, but traffic court went faster and was less formal. Anyway, Judge O’Brien called it quits not long after 3:00. Eric went back to the office.

He stopped by Miss Murphy’s office. She was still on trial, but the officer there would call him when she got in. In the minutes between when he got the call and when he got there, Murphy had begun a conference with somebody else, but he waited.

“Remember the Candy Wharton rape at Circle which you decided wouldn’t get a true bill?” he asked when she had her office cleared. He shut the door behind him.

“Yeah. Is there more?”

“Well, since that’s not going to public trial, information that came from it is a legal confidence.”

“I suppose.”

“Normally, confidential information in the office is only confidential in terms of not going out of the office. It would be unforgivable if the coworkers of a complaining witness’s husband heard details that had never been presented in court.”

“Do you have something you want to say? Or are you just here because nobody else will listen to your platitudes? I have serious crimes to prosecute.” Reminding him that she didn’t consider the traffic offenses he prosecuted as serious.

“Well, it’s like this. I’m going to marry Candy. And it would embarrass me if the details she told you got around the office. I’m sure that you’d find it more important that it would embarrass her -- a victim who came forward to be a complaining witness.”

“And why didn’t I hear about this earlier?”

“Well, I met her maybe two days before you did. The proposal, much less the acceptance, wasn’t until long after you had decided to nol pros. Anyway, can you keep it in your section?”

“Sure. I’ll get the files and put them in my private drawer. Congratulations, I think.”

“Thanks.”

By the time he got back to his office and into his outer clothes, it was past 5:00. When he got downstairs, Candy was waiting. She was watching the other elevators, and he walked up behind her before speaking.

“Candy.” He took her hand; when she turned, he took her other hand. He wanted to kiss her, but she didn’t look receptive. “You in the mood for walking? The car is half-way to Carson’s and parking down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Sure.”

He led her through the underground maze. In this weather, there were probably more people down there than on the sidewalks above. The tunnels didn’t go as far south as Carson’s, though, and they finally had to go back up to street level.

“I didn’t know those were down there,” she said. Of course.

“There are Chicagoans, and then there are Loop dwellers.” Every neighborhood has its secrets, even the neighborhood everybody else visits. “I don’t think anybody designed that system. The individual buildings each do what they find convenient.”

They, and those around them, hurried through the slush. He stopped her when they were a little inside Carson’s -- far enough in to get warm and out of the way of entering and leaving crowds.

“Look, there is a general decision before we get to the specific decision. When we move to a new, larger place, are you going to want to redo the bedroom? Or are you content with what I have now?” That was going to be her home, and -- really -- decor was more of a woman’s thing. Especially if she was going to be a stay-at-home homemaker, she was going to want to be in charge of how the place looked. That would be fine, but he didn’t want to buy loads more furniture and then have her redo everything. “More, of course, as well as a larger bed, but starting from what I have now.” He didn’t get a reply. He didn’t seem to have made himself clear. “The reason I’m asking is that we either get something which will go with what I’ve got, or you start your decorating now. You buy a bed which will be the first piece of the new decor.” He fumbled out the pictures he’d taken. “In case you don’t remember, I brought some Polaroids to show you what the room looks like now.” He was leading the witness.

“That’s fine. Let’s get something to go along with these.” Which might mean that she liked the look now. It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have new ideas later. That was fine. He was springing it on her too fast. Mom had taken two years for the planning the last time she had redecorated.

She kept the pictures, though, and consulted them when they were looking at beds. She picked something which would fit.

“Look, can you sleep on a firm mattress?” He’d had sex on an extra-soft one, and it had taken something away from the experience.

They ordered the bed and the mattress set. Those would be delivered in a week. Well, he could arrange for somebody to be there if Candy couldn’t, but he’d ask later. He had a Carson’s charge. They left and walked together to his car.

Should they eat in the Loop? Candy looked gorgeous, as she always did. She was not dressed, however, for a fancy Loop restaurant, and she had already raised that issue. Well, she had enjoyed the Pho place, and it wasn’t much out of their way. The Argyle exit from the Outer Drive was only a couple north of the Belmont exit. When they were waiting at the light to get on the Drive, he decided to suggest it.

“I thought we’d go back to the Pho place.” A long silence -- assent, dissent, unclarity? “The Vietnamese soup place.”

“That sounds fine. Have you really run out of restaurants?” That was better.

“Well, not in Evanston, and we really haven’t done the Loop yet. There are two Loop eating experiences, lunch and dinner, though both kinds of places are mostly open for both meals.” Should he have suggested a Loop McDonald’s? She was a college student, probably used to eating supper at McDonald’s. “In the rest of Chicago, I only know a few, and most of those aren’t on our way. Chinatown, for instance. But this place makes for a reasonably short detour from the direct way to your home. Besides, I thought you liked it. You finished your bowl of soup.” He could never figure out whether she didn’t eat much because she didn’t like his selection, because she was trying to lose weight, because she was trying to act ladylike, or why. If she didn’t like his selection, she should say so. Well, they would be married soon, and he could ask her where she wanted to eat.

“I did like it. It was fine.” Now, she sounded as if she wanted it.

“The other thing is that they are going to deliver the bed in a week. Do you think you could be there? Don’t lift anything, but see if they’ll set the bed up. If they won’t, I will.” She was pregnant, damn it! Pregnant women shouldn’t strain themselves.

“Sure.” She didn’t sound sure.

“Okay. Stupidly, I didn’t have keys made.” There were so many things to remember. “I’ll give them to you Wednesday. By the way, do you have a driver’s license?” Hell! She might have her own car. No, she had come to church, to Carolyn’s too, by bus. It was nothing like a direct route.

“Sure.” This time her usual unemphatic affirmative made sense. Of course a 19-year-old girl would have a license. “How is that ‘by the way’?” Well, it was only two things he should do that he was putting together. The family house and the family car were two very different parts of her life.

“I’ll have another set of car keys made at the same time. Your moving into my apartment is the only practical way we can do this, but I’m bound to treat it as if I’m the only one there.” He was a creature of habit, and so many of his habits were going to be inappropriate. “That’s not selfishness; it’s stupidity. Tell me when I’m doing that, okay?”

“Sure.” Well, he’d asked.

Again, she finished her bowl of pho. He wondered if there were any Vietnamese restaurants in Evanston. Well, if there weren’t, this wasn’t all that far to drive.

Parking in her neighborhood, never good, looked impossible that night. He stopped the car in the street in front of her door. They had a kiss, but he stayed in the car while she got out.

When he got home that night, he called his family.

“You got my letter?”

“Yeah,” Mom answered. “When are you going to send a photo? We don’t know what your fiancée looks like.”

“Well, she’s beautiful. You’ll see soon enough. The wedding is February second. That’s a Saturday. Do you think you and Dad can come?”

“You couldn’t keep us away.”

“And Rachel?”

“Honestly, Eric, you should ask her yourself.”

“But you’d have car room for her and Stan?”

“Sure. We always have car room for Stan. I’m not sure he’d enjoy the trip, though. It’s one hell of a long ride for a 12-year-old.”

“And weddings don’t mean much at that age.”

“Too true. Well, do you think you’re going to provide us with another grandkid to spoil?” So much for keeping Candy’s secret. Well, if Mom got a baby to cuddle, she would forgive the lie.

“What will be, will be. You aren’t going to get another grandkid in Moline, though, not from me.”

“Well, Rachel isn’t telling us about any prospects, but you didn’t tell us anything either.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Aren’t you moving a little fast?”

“Well, that’s a change. You used to complain that I was moving too slowly. I’ll admit that it’s a short engagement, but I never saw the use of engagements, really. Either you’re going to get married or you’re not.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to plan the wedding.”

“It’s going to be very simple.”

“And your bride is happy with that?”

“Her idea.”

Rachel was happy for him.

“Well, Little Brother, it’s about time.”

“I took my time, but I got a winner. You should see her.”

“Oh, I plan to. But don’t grind it in.” Rachel hadn’t taken her time. She’d married while still in college. And Tom had been a loser.

“I didn’t mean anything like that. I was comparing it to the girls I’d dated previously. You knew some of them. Anyway, you and Stan are invited.”

“Yeah. I’ll make it. Stan, I don’t know. It’s a long drive, and I’m not sure I want to explain why Uncle Eric doesn’t have enough time for him.”

“There is that.”

Wednesday had the worst weather of the month. He was doubtful about making it from Candy’s house to Evanston in 45 minutes. (On a good day, it wouldn’t take more than 20.) He called her to see if they could start earlier.

“Look, can I pick you up earlier? I want to be sure about getting to the church before 6:45.”

“Sure.”

“Expect me about 5:45, but I’m not guaranteeing that, either. Dress for sloshing through snow, but don’t get your coat and stuff on until I get there.” Court closed late, though. Rather than go back to the office, he went directly to his car. Driving was slow, but he got to her door in plenty of time. He stopped in the street in front of her door and ran up to ring her bell. She answered it, dressed -- as he had suggested -- for inside.

“I’m going back to the car. If anyone comes along, I’ll drive around the block. If I’m not there, don’t come out until you see me.”

“Sure.”

And when he got back, she was coming out of her door. The guy behind him was patient while she got in, but he started before she got her seat belt fastened. At the speeds they were going, not even a front-end collision would be dangerous.

He got to the church nearly on time. Rev. Lawrence must have seen them from some window in better heat, because he opened the door a minute after they arrived. He sent Candy in and went to park the car. He was wearing rubbers over his shoes, and the snow was deep enough on some of the unshoveled sidewalk to get to his socks.

When he got there, Rev. Lawrence opened the door for him and led him back to his office. It seemed up to him to get the discussion going.

“Well, the two of us want to get married.”

“I thought that might be it. Candy was sporting an engagement ring. Let me get some objective data first.”

Candy had been born September 15, 1960. Neither of them had been married before, etc. etc. etc. How much of this was necessary, as opposed to how much was to get them used to answering the questions, Eric didn’t know. He’d started interviews like that, too.

“Well, how long have you known each other?”

“Since early November,” Candy said. Good, she was going to carry her share of the conversation.

“That was a Wednesday, too,” he pointed out. “It must be precisely ten weeks.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit precipitous?” Well, yes, but they had their reasons. It was Candy’s choice, though, whether they’d tell their reasons. “And how did you meet?” Ouch! That was getting too close.

“We were both guests of Carolyn,” he said. He’d been Carolyn’s guest, or Carolyn and Bill’s guest, loads of times. Candy was Carolyn’s student, and he had no idea how many students she had entertained. He doubted whether the preacher had any idea, either.

Candy, instead of letting him carry the ball, started asking about confidentiality. There, they were on absolutely safe grounds. The state and the county had a fairly Catholic government making the rules and a good many Catholic judges administering them. ‘Sanctity of the confessional’ was ingrained in those guys.

Lawrence reassured her and said that if there were anything that he wouldn’t know was secret that they should warn him. Well, their secret wasn’t anything he’d have doubts about.

“Okay. This is what happened,” Candy said. “I was raped. I went to Prof. Pierce. She said I should report it. Finally, she said that she knew a prosecutor I could report it to. I and that prosecutor, Eric, met in her house. After the twins were asleep and Mr. Pierce had gone to a meeting, I told him the story. He got me to tell it to a woman who heads rape prosecutions at his office. They decided that they couldn’t prosecute. Meanwhile, I discovered that I was pregnant. It had to be from the rape. I told Eric.”

“I had a nice, year-long plan for courting her,” he said. “When I heard that she was pregnant, I saw that this year-long courtship wasn’t what she needed. I proposed immediately. She took a while, but she accepted.

“By the way, in terms of confidences you might not know are confidences,” he continued, “that we’ve only known each other for ten weeks is one. This is going to be my child. That it was conceived before we got married will be plain to everybody. That it was conceived before we even met is something I want known to as few people as possible.”

“Certainly. Might I ask, are you planning to have this wedding simply to give the baby your name and then end it?” Hell no! He wanted the marriage. The name was only something he could offer her.

“No. The timing is because of the baby. The marriage will be until death do us part.”

“Until death do us part,” Candy said when Rev. Lawrence turned towards her. That was great to hear.

That seemed to be the last real question Rev. Lawrence had that might be a roadblock. The rest of the questions were more pre-marital counseling. They needed that;, Eric supposed. At least, these were questions they hadn’t asked each other. They didn’t have to share the answers with Lawrence later, though. They just had to deal with each other on that.

He had always expected to hold the reception in the parlors, and Candy agreed to that. If it was her support group, they should be there. He was strongly in favor of it because these were people who saw Candy almost exclusively in relation to him. He told Lawrence that he would cover anything that Candy’s parents didn’t. It was quite unlikely that they would balk, but they hadn’t seemed all that happy.

“One last thing, and I’ll let you go,” Lawrence said. Well, there was something he’d like to raise, too. “We’ve changed the wording, changed it long ago. It’s not ‘Til death us do part.’ It’s now ‘As long as we both shall live.’ Don’t worry about it. The words are my responsibility, and you both are clear what they mean, which is the important thing.”

He might as well raise this now. “Another question entirely. As long as we have you here and you know the background, Candy hasn’t been taking communion.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. We have an open communion. I try to say that. You don’t have to belong here. You don’t have to belong anywhere. As long as you have been baptized and believe in Christ, you are welcome at our table, really at His table.”

“I just feel so dirty,” Candy said.

“Because of the rape?”

“Yes.”

“Well that isn’t a theologically valid reason. My usual line is that communion is a medicine for sin; it isn’t a feast for the sinless. That doesn’t really apply to your case, because what makes you hesitate isn’t your own sin. It’s more what Jesus said, ‘It isn’t what goes into a man,’ (or, I might add, a woman) ‘but what comes out of a man which makes him unclean.’ Anyway, you are welcome whenever we have communion. You are not required.”