Deadlock (17 page)

That was a bolt from the hot blue sky. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s probably very personal.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. But I’d still like you to take a look.”

To her surprise, she wanted to — part of her, at least. And she wanted to tell him about her vision, because he’d talked about something like it in church. For one small moment she wanted to trust this man, and reveal part of herself to him.

But another part of her didn’t want anything to do with him or his so-called brief.

“Thank you anyway,” she said diplomatically. “I really should be getting back to — ”

“Tell you what,” Holden said. “I make a fifteen-foot hook shot from the line, you read it. Deal?”

She looked at him, half admiring his persistence.

“I’ll sweeten the offer,” Holden said. “I’ll make it a left-handed hook.”

“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Left-handed hook from the line.”

He smiled and dribbled out to the free-throw line. He bounced the ball a couple of times, took a step with his right foot, and delivered a left-handed hook shot that arced beautifully into the afternoon air and down through the net.

Millie stood up and put her hands on her hips. “You are left-handed! What happened to all that full-disclosure stuff?”

“This is street ball we play here, Your Honor,” Holden said. “Now I’ll just get you a copy of the brief.”

|
1

On Monday morning the wind came down from the north. Dark clouds conferred in the sky, portending rain. It was the sort of day in the desert Millie had always loved.

Millie took a lounge chair to the backyard with a big cup of coffee and one of her mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls. She told her mother she wished to be left alone, no phone calls. She was going to go into court against Jack Holden. She was surprised at her enthusiasm and genuine interest in finding out what went on in that pastor’s mind. But she had always loved the battleground of ideas, and here it was in her lap.

She settled comfortably in the chair and began to read the thick document. Under the section titled “Statement of Facts” the brief stated:

The Statement of Facts went on to narrate Holden’s story as he had told her, only in more detail. Millie was caught up in it immediately. She could tell Jack Holden must have been a very good trial lawyer. He had her attention from the start.

Section Two was titled “Issues.” The wording was more casual than a true Supreme Court brief, but Holden was writing this for a lay audience, specifically those behind bars.

I wanted to say that God does not exist, and that I know that to be true. I said that many times to myself, but began to wonder about the statement. I wanted to be an atheist. What proof did I have?

I found that the one thing I could not say with absolute certainty was that God does not exist. One cannot prove the non-existence of anything. We would have to have absolute knowledge of everything to know for certain that God does not exist. And then we would be gods ourselves.

I found that it is valid to be an agnostic, and to say, “I do not yet have enough evidence to convince me that God exists.” This is why I decided to look at whatever evidence there was, and see where it led.

After studying the evidence, I now believe the evidence is strong, not only for a god, but for the Christian God.

Millie sat up in the chair, ignoring the prickles of heat in her ribcage. She read the paragraphs again. She had to admit that his writing was not flabby noodles. She read on.

“Mom!” Millie shouted.

Ethel came to the back door. “What’s all the hubbub?”

“Can you bring me a legal pad, please? There’s one in my briefcase. And a pen.”

“Are you working out there?” Ethel said with rebuke.

“Please.”

Her mother brought out the pad and pen. “What’s that on your lap?” Ethel said.

“We’ll talk later, Mother. I just need some time alone.”

“What’s with all those wrinkles in your forehead?”

“Mom!”

“All right, all right.” Ethel started back toward the house, muttering.

Millie set the legal pad on her lap and got ready to take notes. Jack Holden wanted a real fight here, did he? All right. She was going to give him one. On the pad she jotted a note:
God may be, or may not be, but if you are proposing that he is, the burden is with you.

She flipped to section three, which was titled, simply, “Beauty.” That sent a small spike of anticipation through her. She had just been thinking about the beauty of her surroundings. She read quickly.

Beauty exists. Everyone knows it, for everyone finds something beautiful. There is an amazing agreement on what is beautiful, all across cultural lines. Beethoven and Bach. Sunsets and flowers. Mountains and the Grand Canyon. You can’t escape beauty.

But where does beauty come from? You can’t put it into a mathematical equation. You can’t mix it in a bowl. It is a sense. It is something we feel as a consequence of being human.

Millie paused and looked out at the valley again. The colors, if it were possible, seemed even more vibrant. She felt the wonder of it, and then a small jolt of annoyance. Holden’s writing was a bit too sure of itself, a bit thin on the evidence. Or was it? She jotted a note on the pad.
The sense of beauty may simply be a chemical component of our bodies, like the sense of smell.

Holden was claiming that this feeling was from God, not from chemicals.
Not enough information,
she wrote.
We’re going to need more from you, Pastor Holden.

The next heading was “Morality.”

What has been said of beauty may also be said of morality. We all behave as if there is a standard, a real right and wrong. Somebody who cuts me off in traffic either believes he has that “right,” or wants to “get away with it.” In either case, he believes in a moral standard.

This is true of all morality, in all cultures. As historian Will Durant writes in
The Lessons of History
, one who studies history will see “the universality of moral codes.”

As with the sense of beauty, the sense of morality must come from outside nature, and it must be given by a Being who gives us morality, a set of laws designed for our own benefit, intentionally. A moral lawgiver, in fact.

Millie shook her head. At least he got to the heart of matters quickly. Verbose counsel never impressed the justices. Holden was clipped and assured.

But his assurance was still bothersome. Okay, she told herself, be objective about it. When she considered a case, Millie always spent at least a little time in the shoes of each party to better understand the opposing viewpoints.

So she asked herself,
What if I really did change my mind about God?
And her initial reaction was a kind of muted fright.

She breathed deeply. What would a belief in God actually do to her after so many years? Would it affect her judicial philosophy? Now wouldn’t
that
be opening a can of political worms.

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts — the unmistakable percussion of metallic kitchenware falling on the hard tile of the kitchen floor.

“Mom?” Millie called out. She waited. No answer came. She called out again, louder this time.

No answer.

|
2

“Sarah Mae,” Charlene said gently, “how old are you?”

This was it. Sarah Mae’s testimony from the witness stand would be the deciding factor in the case. Winsor had undermined her expert witness. Now the story had to be told by the one who lived it.

There was no turning back. Charlene had used all of her persuasive powers to get Aggie to go along with continuing the trial. It was greed that did it. Aggie’s. Eight hundred thousand could become at least a million, Charlene had said. They increased the first offer. They would easily go into seven figures next. You can trust me, Aggie.

But greed was not why Charlene was continuing the trial. The case was God’s will, Granddad notwithstanding. Charlene was taking this trial to the limit, and there was no way she could lose. No way. Sarah Mae’s testimony was too compelling. God’s will was too clear. Charlene Moore was God’s woman.

And the next few minutes were the key to the whole thing.

Big doe eyes looked back at Charlene. “Eighteen,” Sarah Mae said.

“And where do you live?”

“Dudley.”

“With your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“And brothers and sisters?”

Sarah Mae nodded. Judge Lewis said, “You need to answer out loud, so the reporter can hear you. Do you understand?”

Again Sarah Mae nodded. Then quickly added, “Yeah.”

Charlene paused to let Sarah Mae recover a bit. “Sarah Mae, tell us about that day two years ago when you found out you were pregnant.”

The girl swallowed and took a deep breath. “I started to feeling sickly. But there wasn’t nothing wrong with me. Least I didn’t think there was. But I got sickly and threw up. I didn’t want to tell Mama because I knew why I was doing that, throwing up. So I went to that place that I saw on the telephone pole.”

“Was that the National Parental Planning Clinic?”

“Objection,” Winsor said. “Leading.”

“Sustained.”

Charlene said, “What was the name of the place you saw on the telephone pole?”

“National . . . what you just said.”

“Do you remember it in your own mind?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It was in Dudley?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You went there because you thought you might be pregnant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sarah Mae, without mentioning names, tell the jury why you thought you were pregnant.”

Sarah Mae Sherman looked at her hands. Her fingers were locked together. “I saw this boy for a spell. I thought we was in love. Turns out I was. He weren’t.”

Charlene paused. She caught a quick glance of Aggie Sherman, seated in the front row. She was also looking at her hands.

“Now, when you went into the clinic, what was the first thing that happened?”

Sarah Mae’s chest went up and down as she breathed. “They was all friendly at first. They had a lady behind a desk and she sat me down.”

“Do you remember this lady’s name?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Continue then. What happened next?”

“I told her what I thought. She said I could have a test to see. I asked her if I had to tell my mama, and she said no, I didn’t have to tell my mama nothin’, and there’s no law said I had to.”

Charlene paused. “And did you have a test?”

“Yes.”

“What kind was it?”

Sarah Mae looked embarrassed. “Of my urine.”

“What was the result?”

“I was pregnant.”

Charlene paused a moment, letting the story take on a natural flow. “When it came time to talk to the lady about what to do, Sarah Mae, can you tell us what she said?”

Beau Winsor said, “Objection. Hearsay.”

“State of mind, Your Honor,” Charlene said.

“Overruled. The witness may answer.”

Sarah Mae looked from the judge to Charlene. “She asked if I was wantin’ to have an abortion.”

“That was the first thing she said?”

“Uh-huh.”