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“They’re with his parents. Mrs. Martinez isn’t expected to survive. He’s requesting full and immediate custody in either case.”
“Granted.”
He signs several documents and records the decision both on a physical log and on the computer. Sadness fills my eyes at the thought of another unnecessary death, and the ones they love who’ll be left behind.
“Good work, Barton. If ever there’s a time to treat others with compassion and understanding, it’s Christmas. How are your parents?”
“Basking in eighty-degree sunshine on a Caribbean cruise.”
I sense Judge Siever wanting to offer additional condolences for Sydney. He presided over the wrongful death lawsuit her mom and dad filed and sentenced the drunk driver to life in prison. Two prior infractions insured the careless man received the maximum punishment.
We stand and he walks with me into the courthouse hallway.
“You’re welcome to dinner with me and Abigail.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”
We shake hands and I check my watch; plenty of time to make our eleven-thirty reservation. When I reach the car, a text message from Mrs. Rogers freezes my chest.
Miss Parks went home. She did not complete the second assignment, and I paid her five hundred for two hours’ work.
Why did she leave?
Family obligations, though I don’t believe her excuse. She kept cursing someone named Peterman under her breath.
Shit! I must’ve handed Penelope the wrong file folder. She’ll hate me for all eternity because I mistakenly asked her to review a sexual harassment case.
What’s her home address?
Are you sure that’s appropriate?
Not your concern.
I don’t want Penelope thinking I’m a callous monster. The information arrives, and I plug the data into my car’s navigation system. The phone drops onto the passenger seat, and I take several centering breaths to calm my rising fear. I won’t lose the single spark of joy in my hollow life to a misunderstanding.
As I shift into reverse and an incoming call halts my progress.
“Rosalie’s gone, Mr. Barton. How am I supposed to tell our kids their mom died on Christmas Eve? Why did she do it? Did she hate me that much?”
He’s sobbing as the words stutter out. Before I find Penelope, my client needs an understanding ear.
“Are you still at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Martinez.”
The situation jolts me back to the emergency room last December thirty-first. The trauma surgeon offered a similar sentiment upon announcing Syd’s death. I know how it feels to be inconsolable, and I’m compelled to offer my client comfort.
The sudden bleeding of my heart is because of an unexpected, and gorgeous, miracle worker named Penelope. I can’t help but wonder if she’s a sign from above that it’s time I move on and allow love to resurface. Maybe she’s nudging me from heaven to accept God’s will and let go of regret. Neither Mr. Martinez nor I could’ve prevented these tragic circumstances.
Traffic’s light, and I arrive at the hospital within fifteen minutes. I pick up Mr. Martinez’s copy of the legal documents and stride through the ER’s double doors. Not as his lawyer, but as his friend.
The desk attendant informs me he’s in the cafeteria. When I reach the restaurant’s entrance, I see him slumped over his arms at a small table.
“Accept my heartfelt condolences, Mr. Martinez. You have full custody.”
I pat his shoulder and his head lifts.
