Coming Up Roses (38 page)

The state's attorney, Roger Wilcox, approached the witness stand, his expression one of concern. "Are you all right, Mrs. McGovern? You're looking a little pale."

Kate met his gaze and realized his concern was all pretense. This was a stage, the jurors their audience. He wanted to establish himself as a kindly and caring inquisitor when all he really meant to do was draw blood.

Kate moistened her lips. The truth, the whole truth. If she stuck with that, he couldn't trip her up. "I—I'm fine.

Sort of fine. N-Nervous, very nervous."

"That's completely understandable, Mrs. McGovern. I must say you've shown a great deal of courage coming forward as you have. As reluctant as I am to admit it, I'm not at all certain I would have been as brave."

Kate struggled to swallow. "I—I'm not feeling very brave right at the m-moment. I'm so terrified, in fact, that if my legs would hold me up, I th-think I'd skedaddle out of here."

Several chuckles erupted from the spectator area, and Kate was relieved to hear that some of them were distinctly male. She relaxed a bit. Clearly, not every man in the room saw her as a threat. The prosecutor's gray eyes took on a polished hardness, belying his good-natured smile.

The judge's expression softened, however, and Kate had the feeling he wanted to give her a fatherly pat. More of her fear fell away.

"Are you up to answering a few questions?" Wilcox asked. "I understand your condition is delicate."

Kate met his gaze. Though she hadn't burdened Zachariah with the news as yet, his outrageous lie hadn't turned out to be a lie after all. She had missed her monthly curse, and since she had always been regular, no matter how much stress she was under, Kate felt certain that meant she was pregnant. "Yes," she echoed, "delicate."

The attorney turned toward the spectator area and, raising his voice a bit, said, "I have to commend Mr.

McGovern. An amazing bit of work, that." He walked over to his table and leafed through some papers. "When were you married? Ah, yes, a month and a half ago."

"Nearly two months if you count the weeks," Kate came back.

She felt heat rising to her face. The implication was that she might have lain with Zachariah before their marriage. When Wilcox turned around to face her, the polished hardness in his eyes had become a glint of satisfaction. His first shot had been a bull's-eye.

"You are, I take it, feeling well enough to answer a few questions, though?" he repeated.

Kate licked her lips. "I—I can certainly t-try."

"I think the first and most obvious one—at least in my mind—is what led you to come forward? As I understand it from the sheriff, your late husband's body was safely concealed. He was believed to have drowned. If you had left things as they were, you wouldn't be going through this today. So, why? What made you come see the sheriff?"

Kate moistened her lips again, longing for a drink, afraid to ask for one. "Honestly?"

Another wave of laughter burst from the spectators. The judge's mouth twitched. "Mrs. McGovern, that's the general aim here," he clarified. "Nothing but the truth."

Kate felt another wave of heat rise up her neck, and she wanted to kick herself. Of all the stupid things to have said. She pressed a hand over her abdomen, feeling as if she might be sick. "It's just that my reasons are going to sound rather silly," she rushed to explain. "Fabricated reasons would probably sound more sensible."

The quirks at the corners of the judge's mouth turned into a smile. "You don't have to sound sensible, Mrs.

McGovern. Just tell the truth," he inserted.

His expression conveyed more eloquently than words that women, feeble-minded creatures that they were, couldn't be expected to make good sense. Kate took a shaky breath. The truth? As much as the judge's attitude rankled, her mind drew a horrible blank. The truth, she thought frantically. She'd had her reasons; she knew she had. And at the time, they had seemed like very good reasons. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember them now.

"I—I think it would be simplest to explain it to you as I did to my daughter," Kate told the prosecutor shakily.

"It's rather like in a story, if you don't mind my making the comparison. Until everything is satisfactorily concluded, one can never say the end, and I felt very strongly that my daughter and I deserved a happy ever after.

Until I did the right thing, that bad part of our life would never be over."

A deathly silence fell over the room. Kate's heart felt as though it stopped beating. But, of course, she knew it hadn't. If and when she drew her last breath, it wouldn't happen on the witness stand. She could almost feel the noose tightening around her throat.

Lifting her hands, she made another appeal. "I couldn't live the rest of my life with that horrible a secret. And I didn't want my daughter to, either. She has suffered enough."

The attorney stepped to his table and jotted something down. Then, tapping his pen on the paper, he brought his gaze back to her. "I think your reason makes perfect sense, and very eloquently put, I might add." He pursed his lips and regarded her for a long moment. "Now for my second question, and this time, as difficult as it may be, I'd like you to answer it with a yes or no. Do you regret Joseph Blakely's death?"

Now Kate felt absolutely certain her heart had stopped. "It isn't very fair to put it to me like that. So much played into it. Even Judas had regrets."

More laughter erupted. With a chilling sense of dismay, Kate knew she was sounding as feebleminded and idiotic as the judge thought her to be. The attorney's gaze sharpened on hers. "Being absolutely fair is the aim of this court, Mrs. McGovern. Please answer the question, yes or no. Do you regret killing your husband?"

"Objection!" Defler yelled. "Your Honor, that's a deliberate attempt to lead the witness!"

The judge rapped with his gavel. "Sustained." He leveled a gaze on Wilcox. "Rephrase the question, please."

Wilcox smiled. "Certainly. Mrs. McGovern, do you regret your late husband's passing? Yes or no."

Kate squeezed her eyes closed. The truth, and nothing but the truth. "No," she said faintly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

"No!" she repeated more loudly.

The silence gnawed at her. Slowly, Kate opened her eyes.

"Thank you for that," the attorney said softly. "Your answer tells me two things, that you've come forward prepared to tell the absolute truth and that you're equally prepared to accept the consequences, no matter how grim."

He jotted another note. Then he glanced back up at her. "Why don't you regret his death?"

"Because he hurt my child," Kate said. "Again and again and again!" Tears blinded her, and her voice turned shrill. "I tried to run away with her, but he always caught us and brought us home. I can't be sorry that he can't hurt her anymore. On another level, I know my feelings of relief that he's gone are very wrong, but—" Kate shrugged. "She's safe from him, and I can't get beyond that."

The attorney repositioned the paper he was writing on and cleared his throat. "I realize that you claim his death was accidental." He pushed erect and strolled toward her, his manner so kindly that Kate wanted to slap him.

"But I'm curious. Did you ever consider deliberately killing him?"

She dug her nails into her hands. In all her wildest imaginings, she had never dreamed that the prosecutor's questions might be this vicious. An honest answer might prove fatal. Her lawyer jumped up. "Objection, Your Honor! If people could be tried for their thoughts, we'd all hang. That question is completely out of line."

The judge leveled a relentless glare at Kate's attorney. "Objection overruled. To establish intent, this question is completely acceptable." Returning his gaze to Kate, he said, "Please answer the question, Mrs. McGovern. Did you or did you not ever consider deliberately killing your late husband?"

"I refuse to let my client answer that question on the grounds that her reply may incriminate her!" the lawyer cried.

Kate threw a frantic glance at Zachariah. His eyes held hers for a long, endless moment, and during that moment, she remembered all her many reasons for coming here. Namely, she wanted her life back, and to accomplish that, she had to put the past completely behind her. No more secrets. No more lies. No more being haunted by memories. Unless she answered the questions, honestly and without holding back, she would never be entirely free of her past. Never.

Kate fixed her gaze on the judge. It had been so long since she had trusted in the goodness of human nature, five years that had seemed like an entire lifetime. She could stay caught in that trap for the rest of her life.

Turning toward her attorney, Kate said, "It's all right, Mr. Defler. I have nothing to hide. If I did, I never would have come forward." Then to the prosecutor, she said, "The answer to your question is yes, I considered killing Joseph Blakely at least a dozen times and probably in every conceivable way you can imagine."

A gasp rose from the spectator seating area. The prosecutor looked taken aback for a moment. He clearly hadn't counted on that being her answer. As his gaze rested on hers, Kate thought she saw a spark of sympathy in those gray depths. "Can you give me one instance?"

"Objection!" Defler roared. "Don't answer that question, Mrs. McGovern."

Kate ignored him. "Once I nearly stabbed him with my sewing scissors. If he hadn't turned at the last second, I would have."

Charles Defler threw up his hands in a theatrical gesture of defeat and returned to his seat.

Wilcox pursed his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. "On the night of Joseph Blakely's death, when you walked up behind him with that piece of firewood, did he turn around?"

Kate stared at him, knowing he had set the trap and that she was about to step in it. She squared her shoulders.

This was a courtroom. The aim here was to see that justice prevailed. She had to believe that. "No, he didn't turn around."

"Then what prevented you from hitting him on the head, Mrs. McGovern? According to your deposition, he was torturing your child. She was screaming. You had tried, unsuccessfully, to drag him off of her. At that last second, as you lifted that piece of firewood, you must have considered killing him!"

"I just wanted to make him stop!"

"Permanently?" he fired back.

"Yes, permanently! Of course, permanently."

"No more questions," Wilcox snapped. "The prosecution reserves the right to recall the witness."

Thinking she was finished, Kate pushed to her feet, only to be told to sit back down. Charles Defler rose and walked toward her, clearly agitated. Coming to a stop before the witness stand, he raked a hand through his hair.

"How are you doing, Mrs. McGovern? Would you care for some water?"

Kate nodded and gratefully accepted the glass that was handed to her by a court clerk.

Defler paced, then turned. "You've admitted to nearly stabbing your husband with your sewing scissors. Was he abusing your child when you made that attempt?" he asked gently.

Kate's lips felt glued to the glass. She nearly choked as she swallowed the mouthful of water. Lowering the tumbler to her lap, she replied, "Yes."

"What was he doing to her, Mrs. McGovern?"

She wrapped her hands around the glass. "He was sh-shoving the tip of a knife under her fingernail."

Defler resumed his pacing and directed his footsteps toward the jury box. Scanning the jurors' faces, he said, "A knife under her fingernail? A brutal, unthinkable punishment, surely, but not fatal. Some might wonder why you felt compelled to stab the man. Can you explain that to us?"

The ensuing silence seemed deafening. Once again, Kate scanned the spectators' faces, looked into their eyes, read their emotions. This time instead of seeing accusation reflected there, she saw shock and revulsion and pity.

These people hadn't turned their backs on her, they simply hadn't realized. Kate could forgive them that. Joseph had been a clever man who had hidden his true nature under a cloak of respectability, charming when he chose to be and always treacherously convincing, able to shift moods with honeyed ease as only the truly mad can. These people had been hoodwinked, just as her uncle Jed had been, just as she had been until Joseph revealed his true character to her.

Kate took a deep breath, determined to get through this. Remembering was never easy. To put those memories into words was nigh unto impossible. "She was sc-screaming for me to make him stop, but h-he wouldn't.

Nothing I s-said, nothing I did—he wouldn't stop—and so I tried to stab him."

Kate once again panned the courtroom, but now no one seemed able to meet her gaze. Except one man. She looked into his hazel eyes and yearned to feel his arms around her.

Another awful silence fell over the courtroom, broken only by occasional coughs and the sounds of people fidgeting in their seats.

"What had your daughter done to provoke your husband into meting out that sort of punishment, Mrs.

McGovern?"

Kate passed a hand over her eyes. "She, um… She had taken a piece of bread without first asking his permission.

We were late having lunch that day, and she was hungry, and I—" A break in Kate's voice forced her to pause and swallow. Afraid she might spill the water, she set the glass aside on the railing. "I told her she could have a bit of bread to tide her over. When Joseph saw her with it, he assumed she had snitched it, and before I could tell him otherwise, he was in a high temper. Once he got riled, there was no stopping him."

Another silence. "One final question, Mrs. McGovern, and then I'll allow you to step down. On the night Joseph Blakely died, did you consider dealing him a fatal blow with that piece of firewood?"

Kate closed her eyes, struggling for composure. At last she found the courage to meet her attorney's gaze. It seemed a damning question to her, but she could only trust that he knew what he was doing. "Look at my little girl's hand, Mr. Defler, and estimate how long it must have been held in the flames to cause burns so severe."