Julia opened the door, her hair wet from the shower. She smiled when she saw me, her arms flying open to welcome me into her embrace.
“It’s always so good to see you, Harrison,” she said against my ear. “I just wish it was under happier circumstances.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
She stepped back and nodded, dabbing at a couple of tears that threatened to ruin her eye makeup. “Come in. Tell me about him.”
I followed her into the hotel room, recklessly thinking that it was sure a step up from the dingy little motel where my friends and I took rooms the summer I met her. There had been stains on the sheets that we joked about before we added to them with late night takeout and…well, other things.
She took a seat in a straight back chair that looked uncomfortable and crossed her legs, playing with a pen between her fingers as she watched me. I was too restless to sit, so I leaned against the wall.
“He goes by JT. And he’s…”
I hesitated, searching for the right metaphors to describe JT. But none came to mind.
“I bet he’s like you,” she said.
“Libby thinks so.”
She smiled. “I didn’t let myself think about him much over the years. But when I did, I always imagined he would be like you. Stubborn. Rebellious. Handsome.”
I inclined my head to accept her compliments. “Thank you. And, yes, he is a lot like that.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
She stood up and headed for the bathroom, presumably to finish getting dressed. I cleared my throat to get her attention.
“My lawyer doesn’t think it would be a good idea for you to meet him before the hearing.”
Julia paused, her face a mask of emotion.
“Why not?”
“Because it could upset him. And he’ll already be nervous about his meeting with the judge.”
Disappointment danced in her eyes even as she nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”
I went to her and rested my hands on her shoulders. “You’ll meet him. I promise you that.”
She rested her head against my chest for a long second and then took a deep breath.
“Alright. Get out of my way. Let me finish getting dressed so we won’t be late.”
*****
The courthouse was as busy as ever. We made our way through the metal detectors and headed upstairs to where our hearing would take place. We stepped off the elevator, Libby on my right, her hand in mine, Julia on my left. I automatically looked for a familiar face: Finn, JT, or Penelope. I spotted Penelope’s lawyer ducking into one of the small consultation rooms. A funny feeling worked its way through my chest as I wondered who he was talking to in there. Were they coaching JT? Were they trying to influence his testimony?
I couldn’t make myself believe that. But I still felt uneasy.
And then the elevator door opened again and Finn stepped out. My mother beside him.
“Harry,” Libby began as tension soared through me, tightening my grip on her hand.
“What is she doing here?”
“I called her.”
I jerked my hand back, staring at my sister as if I could find something there that would explain why she would stab me in the back in this way.
“I made it very clear—“
“Yeah, well, she wanted to help.”
I shook my head. “You had no right.”
I brushed past her, pushing her out of my way with a brush of my shoulder. It felt like betrayal. It felt like the one person I thought I could trust had just stabbed me in the back. I didn’t want her here. I made that very clear. I didn’t want my mother to testify to what she’d done all those years ago. It didn’t matter who did it or why. All that mattered was that it had happened.
I followed the corridor around until it ended in a solid wall. I slammed my palm against it, needing some outlet for the anger and frustration and…everything that was building up inside of me.
“I’m sorry, Harrison.”
I spun around and found my mother standing several feet away. She looked tired, frail, as she always had. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the back of her head, her pale skin unmarked by makeup. She wore thin, gold rimmed eyeglasses that were fairly new, a simple blue dress that was both elegant and practical. Her dress, the way she stood with her hands at her sides, were the definition of who she was. Elegant, practical, pious, obedient, quiet. She was the perfect wife for a religious fanatic.
“What are you doing here?”
“Libby said you needed my testimony. She sent the jet back for me.”
I shook my head, refusing the instinct to walk to her, to protect her.
“I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did. I never imagined you would ever learn about that child’s existence, let alone discover that I was the one who hid the truth from you.”
I turned away, fighting a battle inside of myself that I didn’t know how to calm. She came up beside me and touched my arm, but I jerked away, stepping sideways so that I was just out of her reach. I saw the flash of pain on her face, but it wasn’t enough to equal the scales, not enough to take the sting out of her admission.