“It’s not about him. Or them. Or what you did. It’s about Grace. What does it feel like, Lexi, when a mother turns her back on you?”
Lexi stopped pacing and looked at her lawyer. “Thank you. That puts it in perspective.”
His intercom buzzed. Scot reached forward and picked up his phone. “Hey Bea … Bill Brein, huh? Okay, thanks.” Hanging up, he opened his desk calendar and wrote something down. Then he looked up at Lexi. “You’re going to need to be strong, Lexi.”
“I’m trying.”
“Really strong,” he said. “They’re fighting back.”
*
Two days later, Lexi was back in a courtroom. Just stepping through the doorway brought a flood of painful memories. So much so that when Scot asked Lexi to dress in black, she said no. She would not re-create that day. Instead, the day before the hearing, she went to the thrift store again and purchased a flared, ankle-length sea-green skirt, a barely worn V-neck sweater that was only a shade or two lighter, and a pair of bronze sandals.
In her new, feminine clothes, Lexi tried to feel unlike the girl in black who’d once been taken out of a room like this in chains.
She felt Scot come up beside her. He touched her arm gently.
“They’re here,” he said.
She felt herself straightening; the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She tried not to turn, but how could she stop herself? That gravitational pull toward Zach was too strong.
Lexi’s heart leaped a little at the sight of him. The suit he was wearing was the same one he’d worn to the homecoming dance; now it pulled across his chest.
Can I kiss you, Lexi?…
She looked away from him, tried to forget. She and Scot walked up to the table on the left side of the courtroom; Zach joined his lawyer at the table across the aisle from them.
The commissioner was the last to enter. He was a portly man with a shiny bald head and rimless bifocals that rested over a veiny, bulbous nose. His bailiff, an elegant Asian man in uniform, smiled brightly as he took his place near the bench.
The commissioner smoothed his robes and sat down. “We’re here for adequate cause,” he said, rifling through the paperwork on his desk, finally finding what he needed. “Modification of a parenting plan. Mr. Jacobs?”
Scot stood up, whispering for Lexi to do the same. “Ms. Baill is petitioning this court for a modification of the parenting plan. In 2004, Ms. Baill was an ordinary high school senior, in love for the first time, and looking forward to college. Her exemplary grades and academic record earned her a scholarship at the University of Washington. At eighteen, she had dreams of becoming a lawyer.
“One bad decision on a summer night changed everything for both my client and the Farradays. Although Zachary Farraday had promised to be the designated driver at a high school drinking party, he failed to keep his word and became inebriated. His twin sister, Mia, also drank all night. And so, tragically, Alexa offered to drive the Farradays home. It was less than a mile away.
“In the crash, Mia was killed. At the time, I counseled Alexa to plead not guilty and fight for her freedom, but Alexa is a deeply moral young woman with a profound sense of right and wrong. So she pled guilty and went to prison, hoping her incarceration would help atone for her mistake.
“She didn’t know then that she was pregnant. Originally she planned to give the baby up for adoption, but Zach surprised her by offering to raise their daughter. She was so grateful and so guilt ridden over Mia’s death that she agreed to give Zachary full custody.
“In prison, Alexa earned a bachelor’s degree in sociology, and she hopes now to get a master’s degree in social work, so that she can help other teenagers who face difficulties in their lives.
“She is a wonderful young woman, and I have no doubt that she will be an exemplary mother to her daughter. The state has a strong interest in reunification of mothers and their children. In this case, it is absolutely clear that my client has substantially changed her situation and deserves to be reunited with her daughter.” Scot touched Lexi’s arm, said, “Thank you,” and they both sat down.
Across the aisle, Bill stood up. In the small courtroom, with its dull walls and scuffed floor, he was an imposing figure, with his expensive gray suit and stern profile.
“There can be no adequate cause to modify the parenting plan here. Ms. Baill went to Purdy for DUI vehicular homicide. A class-A felony.” He paused, looked meaningfully at Lexi. “Purdy, Your Honor. That’s less than an hour’s drive from Pine Island. She did not have to be cut off from her daughter’s life. She chose not to be a mother. When Zachary Farraday wrote her letters about their daughter—even sent pictures—Ms. Baill sent the envelopes back unopened. She wrote no letters to her daughter and made no phone calls. Throughout the entire duration of her incarceration, she never once attempted to communicate in any way. A former cellmate of Ms. Baill’s—a Cassandra Wojocheski—will testify that Ms. Baill told her point-blank that she never intended to see her daughter.