The day passed uneventfully for juvenile court in downtown Richmond. Some crying, some angry words, some compromise, no threats of violence. The hours in court had returned a sense of calm to Wallis to be back in her element after the meeting with Stanley.
Wallis walked out onto Marshall Street in the early evening, slowly walking down the wide stone steps in front of the over-sized red brick building with stately white pillars. She felt worn out down to the bone, glad to feel so exhausted. It made it harder to really worry about what might be happening to the pieces of her life. Everyone had used words like calm, hard to rattle, and cynical to describe Stanley Woermer, the opposite of what Wallis had seen in the bookstore and she knew the same words could be a pretty apt description of her.
The Jag was parked in an open lot two blocks away and as she slowly made her way down the wide sidewalk she had to pass by the small dramas giving out their last gasps along the short marble wall that ran the length of the sidewalk in front of the court house. The building took up the entire city block, ending before the smaller, old John Marshall house the city fathers had decided not to disturb but had built around instead.
Families were heard exclaiming their innocence to each other on the sidewalks outside. A mother was yelling out her virtues, two young men there for support nodding their heads in agreement while keeping a short distance between themselves and the wildly pacing woman. Further down, a woman cautiously put her arm around her friend saying with as much conviction as she could dredge up that things could only get better from here. A father marched down the sidewalk, angry he couldn’t keep the woman who had been his wife from getting any more of his money.
“If I’d ‘a known I had to pay the dentist’s bill, I wouldn’t have bought him those shoes,” the man shouted before he slammed shut his car door, glaring at no one in particular. A couple of people looked up with bemused silence and went back to their conversation. A woman, quietly and quickly walked to her car in the other direction down the block, suppressing a smile as best she could. She had won a small battle. It was something to build on.
Everyone is always right in family court, thought Wallis, getting back to her car well after six, even if they think they won or lost.
These kinds of days always wore her out. She had gone before Judge Henderson with a custody case that had to be settled before the couple could get a divorce. It was the fifth continuation, mostly by opposing counsel on behalf of the husband. The judge’s patience had grown thin. When it became apparent the other lawyer was going to attempt to drag things out even further, the judge coolly informed everyone that the case was going no further than today, no matter what.
“By the time you two leave my court, you will no longer be married and your children will have an answer to where they’ll be living and when,” he said, leaning forward as he pulled the billowing black sleeves out of the way. Clearly visible at the collar of his robes was a small pin with a tight circle of stars.
Judge Henderson didn’t look at either party as he spoke. He never looked at anyone, never lifted his head. His mottled face wore a perpetual scowl of indifference as he glanced around at his lap or nearby papers. His pale brown skin was as thin as onion paper and gave away his real moods, changing from pale tan when he was bored to a rosier brown when he was listening and deep purple when he had had enough. Both lawyers knew better than to challenge him, no matter the mood.
“There will be two scheduled bathroom breaks, no meal breaks, and no leaving the court room for any other reason until all matters before me are settled. Counselors, do we all understand?”
Wallis could hear the husband sputtering in the ear of his lawyer, something about his rights and noticed the lawyer batting away at his client, trying to get the annoying fly to sit down, be quiet. Both men were wearing the more common flag pins. Everyone in this town is patriotic and has to wear some measure of it on their sleeve, thought Wallis.
The wife sitting at her elbow looked up toward Wallis, but Wallis never looked her way. No need for an explanation, this was the way it was going to be. Wallis stole a glance at Jane Ely, the court reporter to see if she had flinched when she had learned of her connected fate. She was still staring straight ahead, dutifully taking down every word. She was one of the best in town and was always Wallis’ first choice.
“Yes, your honor,” said both attorneys in unison.
“Was there something your client wanted to say, Mr. Hicks?” asked the judge.
“No, your honor. Thank you, your honor.”
Even though she was hungry walking into court and it would be worse by the time she left, Wallis was glad to hear the ruling. It was a good sign.