Cracks in the Sidewalk (25 page)

“By who?” Claire asked.

“Jeffrey or a court-approved guardian.”

“JT is going to bring the children?” Elizabeth said brightly.

“He probably will. I don’t have an acknowledgement from his attorney yet,” Dudley answered. “Judge Brill’s order states that Jeffrey has to deliver all three children for a visit every Sunday morning from nine o’clock until noon. And he also has to allow you to telephone the children three times a week.”

“Starting when?” Claire asked.

“Visitation will most likely start this coming Sunday, phone calls possibly as soon as tomorrow. I’ll know more after I speak with Noreen Sarnoff.”

They spoke for a few minutes longer, but Elizabeth’s head already buzzed with excitement. Before she hung up Elizabeth cooed, “Thank you, Mister Grimm, thank you so very, very much.”

~ ~ ~

A
t nine-forty, the second envelope arrived at Noreen Sarnoff’s office. Without a moment’s hesitation she tore it open and read through Judge Brill’s decision. The words “Jeffrey Caruthers is ordered to deliver the three minor children for weekly visitation” virtually jumped off the page.

Noreen grimaced. Losing was never fun, but at least visitation was limited to once a week and she’d gotten the visits supervised, which she reasoned counted for something.

She poured herself a second cup of coffee, then sat behind her desk considering just how she would give JT the news. At ten-fifteen she reluctantly telephoned Jeffrey Caruthers.

“Good news,” she said. “Elizabeth didn’t get what she was looking for. Judge Brill limited her visitation to once a week, and he ordered that those visits be supervised either by you or a court-approved guardian.”

“Good news?!” JT screamed. “Are you nuts? I said
no
visitation! Did you not understand that no visitation means none? None! Zero, nada, zilch—”

“I realize that’s what you wanted,” Noreen interrupted, “but we’re lucky to come out of this with a split decision when—”

“Don’t give me that split decision crap! I paid good money because you said we’d win. A slam-dunk, that’s what you said, a slam-dunk.”

Noreen’s temper finally flared and she shouted, “Enough! If you think screaming in my ear is gonna change things, you’re sadly mistaken. You’re lucky to get what you got! Personally, I think the court went easy on you. Why, I don’t know.”

“Oh, great,” JT snarled. “Now you’re on
her
side!”

“No, stupid, I’m on your side. Face facts, you were a lousy witness. You came across as vindictive and ticked off at the world. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was great. She was sincere and believable, and more importantly she didn’t try to bury you, which she probably could have.”

“Look, I said no visitation and that’s what she’s getting, none. I don’t care what you say or that judge says or anybody in the entire state of New Jersey says, I’m not allowing my kids to step one foot inside that house.”

“You haven’t got a choice.”

“Oh, yes, I do! I can take the kids and—”

“Don’t say it,” Noreen warned. “Because if you tell me you’re planning to kidnap those children that’s a crime, and attorney-client privilege goes out the window when it comes to prior knowledge of a crime about to be committed.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t,” Noreen warned again. “And let me give you this little piece of free advice. If you do try something stupid, you’ll end up in the slammer for a good long time and the probability is your in-laws will be the ones to raise your children. Don’t think they wouldn’t love to see that happen!”

“They can’t take my kids away from me, I’m their father.”

“The court can and will if you even
think
about kidnapping those children.”

“So I’m supposed to just march myself over there every Sunday and hand my kids over to that bunch of crazies? Who’s to say they won’t take off with the kids?”

“Judge Brill ordered supervised visits,” Noreen reasoned. “You can stay there with the kids, or you can obtain a court-approved guardian to accompany them on visits.”

JT snorted. “Some concession that is.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“What if the kids don’t want to go? What if they’re sick or something?”

“If the kids are sick, you call your wife, explain the situation, and arrange an alternate time for visitation.”

“How am I supposed to deal with this?” JT asked, desperation permeating his voice.

“It’s once a week,” Noreen said unsympathetically. “Just do what the court ordered so you don’t risk losing your kids altogether.”

“What about after Liz dies, do Claire and Charlie still get to see the kids?”

“No, the court order only applies to the children’s mother.”

“Then I’m off the hook? I don’t have to bring the kids over there anymore?”

“Not unless the McDermotts bring another lawsuit to request their own visitation.”

“Can they do that?”

“They can, but I doubt it would be successful. New Jersey has no real statute governing visitation for grandparents.”

“So this is only until Liz dies?” JT said.  

After that Jeffrey tried to talk Noreen into giving him a reduction on her fee since she didn’t get him the decision he wanted. When she told him that he had a better chance of seeing pigs fly, he slammed the telephone down.

Noreen Sarnoff sat behind her desk shaking her head in amazement. Not much surprised her, because she’d seen the worst of them—knife-wielding gang members, sleazy crooks, swindlers of every sort, wife beaters even—but never anyone as callous and unyielding as JT Caruthers. She knew she had to watch her step with him, cover all bases. Noreen Xeroxed Judge Brill’s court order and attached a letter detailing what was expected. At the bottom of her letter she wrote in bold-face type, “This visitation schedule is effective immediately, and you have been instructed to bring the three minor children to visit their mother, Elizabeth, starting on Sunday, October fifteenth.” 

E
lizabeth could hardly wait to talk to the children, and for all of Monday afternoon she could do little but think and rethink what she might say to them. It had been almost a year. A year was forever in the life of a child. In a year a baby learns to stand and walk, a toddler becomes a little girl, and a boy goes from Robin Hood to race cars. What would they be like now, these babies of hers? Would they remember the things they’d once done together? Would they ask questions she couldn’t answer? Did they know of her illness and did they understand what was happening? How much, if anything, had Jeffrey told them? After the long months of wondering whether she would ever see her babies, it would finally happen. The joy of it made her heart feel light as the flutter of angel wings. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes and pictured David, her first-born. With dark hair and eyes the color of a Hershey Bar, he looked like his father and in some ways he had Jeffrey’s mannerisms. David was still a little boy but already knew how to flash a smile that got him most anything he wanted. 

And then there was Kimberly with her constant calling of “ommy, ommy.” While learning to talk, Kimberly lopped off the first letter of almost every word. Now she was three, no longer a toddler but a little girl. Elizabeth pictured her a bit taller, perhaps more wiry, but still blessed with silky blond curls. Kimberly loved stories about a prince and princess who marry and live happily ever after. Elizabeth recalled when she herself loved those stories. She’d believed in them until—

A wave of sadness emerged but Elizabeth turned her thoughts to Christian, the child she had never really known. She’d last seen or held him five weeks after he was born. Now his first birthday had come and gone along with those baby experiences—the first peals of laughter, tiny hands grappling for whatever they could reach, a first tooth, a first word, learning to sit, to stand, to trust, precious moments every one of them, but regretfully not hers to share.

How would he react, this child who had never known her? To him she was a stranger. That thought struck hard. Christian would need time, and she had to allow him that. She would have to hold back the desire to snuggle his face to hers. She would have to wait until he felt ready to come to her.

In time it will happen,
Elizabeth assured herself.  
In God’s own time, it will happen.

~ ~ ~

A
lthough it took all the willpower she could muster, Elizabeth waited until three-thirty Tuesday afternoon to telephone the children. She dialed Jeffrey’s number and listened as it rang and rang. For a full eight minutes she sat there listening to the hollow echo of that ring before she finally hung up.

“It’s fairly warm today,” Claire suggested. “Maybe JT’s taken them to the park.”

“Sure, that must be it,” Elizabeth said.

At six o’clock she tried again, but still no answer. She tried again at seven and then at eight. There was still no answer.

“Do you think something might be wrong?” Elizabeth asked her father, but Charlie said he doubted such was the case.

“What then?” Elizabeth asked earnestly.

Charlie shrugged. “JT’s not one who likes losing. Maybe he thinks he can weasel out of the ruling.”

“He can’t do that,” Claire declared. “It’s illegal! The court order said he had to let Liz talk to the children. If the court ruling says that’s what he has to do, then he has to do it!”

“The likelihood,” Charlie said, “is that JT won’t out-and-out defy the court order. But he’ll probably do everything possible to push his limits.”

“Can he get away with it?” Elizabeth asked apprehensively.

“Maybe, maybe not,” her father answered. “It all depends on what we do. If we believe he’s deliberately defying the judge’s visitation order, we can take him back to court.”

“What good will it do?” Claire asked. “If he doesn’t obey the court order the first time, what makes you think he’ll obey it the second time?”

“If we take him to court for disobeying the first order, the judge will probably hit him with sanctions. A fine, possibly even jail time.”

“Dad,” Elizabeth said. “Isn’t it a little too premature to be thinking of that? After all, he didn’t answer the phone for one day. That doesn’t mean he’s never going to.”

“I hope not,” Charlie said gravely. “I certainly hope not.”

For the remainder of the evening there was no further discussion about JT. Claire worked on an afghan she was crocheting, Charles watched the second World Series game, and Elizabeth pretended to read. For almost an hour Elizabeth flipped through the pages of
Better Homes and Gardens
, looking at roasted turkeys and chrysanthemum arrangements clouded by the haze of tears plaguing her eyes. At ten o’clock, when her eyes had grown weary and her heart exhausted, Claire helped her into bed.

~ ~ ~

C
harles said nothing that night. He had seen the tears in Elizabeth’s eyes and understood the heartache she felt, but he was at a loss for words. When morning came he left the house at eight-thirty, but instead of turning toward the bank he traveled through a maze of streets until he came to the Caruthers house. He parked the car, pulled a sheet of notepaper from his briefcase, and began writing. Once finished, he stepped from the car, carried the folded paper to the house, and slipped it through the mail slot in the front door. After that he drove off.

The Warning

J
effrey despised the shaft of sunlight that sliced across the bedroom and interrupted his sleep. On Wednesday morning he woke to that blinding glint of light and the sound of David relentlessly calling his name. Jeffrey turned over and tugged the blanket above his ears. Moments later David tromped into the bedroom and began poking his back.

“Wake up, Daddy,” David said, “I need you to read my letter.”

“Later,” JT answered wearily.

“No, now.”

JT turned to face the boy. “I’m trying to sleep. Go back downstairs and play. We’ll read your book later.”

“It’s not a book,” David answered peevishly. “It’s my letter from Grandpa.”

JT sat up. “Your letter from Grandpa?”

David nodded.

“Go get it.”

David thumped down the stairs and came back carrying the note Charles had written. He handed it to JT. “Read,” he commanded.

JT unfolded the note and scanned the first few lines.

“Jeffrey,” the note began without any salutation and written in the tight script that JT recognized as Charlie’s.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked the boy.

“Grandpa gave it to me.”

“He was here? In the house?”

“Grandpa was outside,” David said. “He saw me in the window and put my letter in the letter hole. Now read, okay?”

“Okay,” JT answered. “But after I read it to you, I have to keep the letter and put it in a safe place because it also has a message for Daddy, okay?”

“Dear David,” he began, making up the words, “I hope you are being a very good boy and minding everything your daddy tells you to do. Your daddy has a lot of responsibility, and he needs you to help him. You must eat whatever he gives you for dinner and don’t hit your sister. Love from Grandpa.”