The Promise of Stardust (25 page)

The clichéd blue-eyed blond reporter with glaringly white teeth and a simulated smile to go with it refused to move. “How's Elle? Is there any improvement? Has she spoken?”

Clearly, the reporter, an anchor at a local affiliate, what was her name, Paige Cartwright, didn't understand the meaning of brain death. Or maybe she was hoping to provoke a reaction. I opened my mouth to speak.

Jake grabbed my arm. “Dr. Beaulieu has no comment, but he asks for prayers for his wife and unborn child.”

I wanted something besides prayers. I wanted all these assholes out of my face. I wanted privacy. And time to grieve. And control over Elle's fate.

I wanted Adam dead.

All I had was a court date. The truth was that, even if medical technology could keep Elle's body going long enough for the baby to become viable, the court might take one look at Adam's advanced directive and tell the hospital to turn off Elle's life support. Prayers? Hell, I needed more than that.

I had no patience for the reporters. They were exploiting our tragedy. Paige Cartwright practically poked her microphone in my mouth. “But, Dr. Beaulieu, if Elle had an advanced directive, doesn't that mean that you're using her body against her will? Isn't forcing her to remain on those machines for the duration of her pregnancy akin to rape?”

“What?” I yelled. “What's the matter with you?”

“Easy.” Jake's hand landed on my shoulder. “We have no comment.”

I stood, stunned, knowing I should back away, so entirely incensed that if the newswoman had been a man, I would have punched her. I could see the manipulation, and still, I couldn't budge.

Cartwright cocked her head to one side. “But don't you want to explain your position? I would love to interview you, Dr. Beaulieu,” she said.

“You aren't serious,” I answered back. “I'm trying to save my family, and you just compared that to …” I couldn't even say the word aloud. “You're a sadistic opportunist.”

The flash of her eyes betrayed an emotional response; perhaps it was contempt or perhaps it was satisfaction. “I didn't suggest she became pregnant through rape,” Cartwright said. “But forcing Elle to vegetate on life support against her will for the sake of pregnancy, which is by all reports unlikely to succeed, is akin to rape.”

Jake pushed me behind him. “Don't say anything.” Jake turned to Cartwright. It was easy to see even he was straining to keep his tone level, easy to see she was hoping he wouldn't or that I wouldn't.

“You're trying to provoke a sound bite with the use of that word,” Jake said. “We have
no comment
.”

Predatory, the reporters closed in around us.

“Merriam-Webster defines ‘rape' as an act or instance of robbing or despoiling or carrying away a person by force,” Cartwright said. “It's defined as an outrageous violation. Elle McClure said she didn't want to be kept alive on machines. Isn't this an outrageous violation of her will? You're forcing her to vegetate on life support. Isn't that, by definition, rape?”

Cartwright was prepared, reading from memory etched on some neural pathway. Elle could do that with her eidetic memory; she could tell the page and the paragraph of something she'd read. But all similarity between Elle and this witch ended with that one simple talent. Elle would never prey on someone shredded by grief. Elle never preyed at all.

And Paige Cartwright did it for a living.

“Get out of my way,” I said, grinding my teeth.

One cameraman stepped sideways, and Jake and I shoved our way through the breach in the wall of reporters.

And still Paige Cartwright continued: “Women have been used to produce offspring,
forced
to produce offspring for tyrants. For kings. For fascists.”

“There is no equating one situation with the other,” Jake said, nearly as indignant as I was.

“Women in Nazi Germany were impregnated like livestock and forced to bear children for the fatherland.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake.” I spun around, my hands balled into fists. “This child wasn't forced on her. We conceived this child together—
in love
. She would insist that we save our baby. Now get out of my face.”

“Come on, Matt. Let's go.” Jake pulled at my arm.

I stood fast, glaring at the reporter. Cameras were rolling. I could almost see the glee around me. Headlines. “Husband of Stricken Astronaut Explodes When Questioned.” I forced my voice to level. “Elle loved children. Loved them.” I pushed through the crowd without looking back again.

At the courtroom door, Jake finally made eye contact and exhaled loudly. “I tried to prepare you. Don't rise to it, particularly
not
inside the courtroom. Not out there either. The judge might see the news. I admit I didn't see that one coming, and she used some seriously inflammatory language, but it's over. Now forget about it. We have to go into the courtroom and be in the moment. But don't comment at all next time.”

I nodded but was still shaking with rage. I breathed in and out and proceeded through the heavy courtroom doors.

As Jake and I took our places, I noticed that seated next to my mother was a dark-eyed, middle-aged man, tapping his sharpened pencil on a legal pad. Adam sat in the gallery just behind them.

Jake leaned in. “Your mother's new attorney, Paul Klein. Works for a decent-size firm as a litigator, mostly involving trusts, but he used to litigate medical malpractice.”

The court officer announced the judge's entry. We stood.

Once seated, Judge Wheeler shuffled papers in front of him. “First let the record show Mrs. Linney Beaulieu is now represented by Mr. Paul Klein. Next is the Order to Show Cause. Attached is an affidavit with what purports to be an advanced health care directive signed by Elle McClure. This one names one Adam Cunningham and gives him Elle McClure's medical power of attorney. Mr. Sutter, I'll hear from you.”

Jake stood and buttoned his jacket. “Your Honor. The advanced directive produced by Adam Cunningham is only a photocopy—not an original. Elle Beaulieu has had no substantive relationship with Cunningham other than their mutual association with NASA for the past five years. As far as we know, she could have torn up the original document when she moved out of the residence they once shared. Furthermore, in Texas, this AD would be automatically revoked during a pregnancy.”

“Yes, but if you recall, we are not in Texas, Mr. Sutter,” the judge said.

“Which is why I move to exclude the document,” Jake said.

Judge Wheeler folded his hands and leaned forward. “What interests the court is what Elle would want done on her behalf if she were able to speak for herself,” the judge said. “I'd like to hear what Elle wrote on this 2003 document. We're putting together a puzzle here. Mr. Klein, do you have any evidence to substantiate that this advanced directive is current?”

“We do not have possession of the original at this time, Your Honor. We are trying to contact the attorney who drew up the document.”

“Very well,” Wheeler said. “I'll hear testimony concerning this advanced directive along with whatever other testimony each side is going to present. And since we were already scheduled to meet this morning, I'd like to hear your opening statements.”

Jake wrote on the legal pad, “Grounds for Appeal.”

“Just a note,” Wheeler continued, “because of the change in focus, from guardianship to the removal of the ward's life support, Mrs. Linney Beaulieu is now the petitioner. Dr. Beaulieu is the respondent. Mr. Klein, are you prepared?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Klein took three steps toward the gallery and locked eyes with reporters representing CNN, FOX, ABC, NBC, CBS, the
New York Times
, and the
Boston Globe
. Along with the journalists, Paige Cartwright sat off to the side with her glower homed on me. She was nothing but a small-town reporter with a big story in her backyard. She obviously wanted to make a name for herself in front of the networks. And when she baited me with her twisted take on the situation, I made an easy mark by jumping through her goddamned hoop. I groaned inwardly and forced my attention back to the front of the courtroom and my mother's attorney.

Over the next few minutes Klein summed up my mother's position while he rolled an unsharpened yellow pencil back and forth between his palms. “Anytime the issue came up, whenever right-to-die issues were in the news, Elle clearly informed those around her she did not want to be kept alive if there was no hope of recovery.” He harped on the fact that Elle had come to these strongly held opinions through her experiences with her own mother's prolonged death.

With great clarity I could still see Alice on her deathbed. Watching her die beat down Elle's indomitable spirit for a while. At the time I focused on Elle. It wasn't until I was in med school that I realized Alice's death had profoundly changed me, too. It made me cognizant of the quality of life and the impact illness made on an entire family.

My family. There were other similarities besides the physical resemblance Elle bore to Alice. Two women, a mother and a daughter, each lost her voice and the ability to choose her destiny. And like Hank, I was fighting against immeasurable odds that a miracle would come. I didn't appreciate the comparison even though I recognized its validity.

My mother's attorney had been articulating his case for seven or eight minutes when he said, “As a competent adult, Elle signed not one but two documents outlining that she didn't want extreme measures to prolong her life. The law dictates that she has an inalienable right to self-determination. Her pregnancy in no way changes this. Texas law notwithstanding, she said she did not want to ever be put on life support of any kind. Please honor her wishes. Thank you, Your Honor.”

Wheeler's face showed no emotion. “The court will hear from you, Mr. Sutter.”

Jake stood and glanced quickly at the press before addressing the judge. “Your Honor, Elle Beaulieu was a thoughtful woman, brilliant and complex, but she was never motivated by a single factor.” He spoke as if he understood Elle's wishes, perhaps because he had pulled out phrases I had used to describe her intensity as well as her tender side. “The day before her terrible accident Elle and Matt discussed the possibility of trying to start a family. Tragically, neither knew she was already pregnant.” Jake paused with his gaze fixed on mine and nodded at me.

I swallowed hard. If only I had known about the baby, everything would have been different. She wouldn't have gone up on that ladder. Maybe I would have stayed home that morning and we would have celebrated.

“We are here to determine what Elle Beaulieu would have wanted done on her behalf.” Jake rubbed the nape of his neck. “She wanted to have children even at the peril of her own life.” He went on to outline his case with one notable exception. He said nothing about petitioning for fetal guardianship, but that omission felt deliberate.

Jake's gaze rolled over to me, and the judge's eyes followed. “Your Honor, Elle married Matthew Beaulieu and they dreamed of building a family together. Let Elle fulfill her dream.” He came to the respondent's table, unbuttoned his jacket, and sat down.

A court officer approached the bench and passed the judge a note.

“Thank you, Counselors. I need a twenty-minute recess to attend to a different matter. Afterward, Mr. Klein, you may call your first witness.”

While Jake spent the recess pulling together his notes, I read an entry Elle wrote fourteen years earlier.

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