I stood up, weak-kneed. Retta gripped my hand.
The judge came in, and when he was planted on his perch, the bailiff said, “Please be seated.”
He was a young judge who shot us nary a glance as he shuffled through his paperwork.
Judge Norton said, “Before we get started, there’s an order out of Judge Roy Taylor’s court over in Leslie County. That order states the minor child, Honey Mary-Angeline Lovett, is to be taken into custody and turned over to the state, where she will be transferred to the Kentucky House of Reform. Mr. Morgan, is there any reason I shouldn’t do that?”
Retta stood up and shook her head. “Because she’s coming home with me is the reason, Buddy Norton.”
Mr. Greene made quick notes on his paper.
“Miss Adams, you will please refrain from outbursts,” the judge warned, furrowing his brow.
Mr. Morgan eased Retta back into her seat and said, “Yes, Your Honor, there’s strong reason. That’s why I filed an application for guardianship with your court.”
“This is most unusual,” Judge Norton commented. “Why didn’t you take this up with Judge Taylor? The girl should be bound to the House of Reform—”
“Humph.” Retta scowled at the judge, then tsked loudly. “To think, Buddy Norton, I made your ma’s wedding dress and then sewed your layette not five months later when you came along,” she said gruffly.
“Order!” the judge and bailiff chorused loudly, startling me.
Retta lifted a stubborn chin, trailed her fingers up to her bun, and mumbled something low.
Mr. Morgan leaned across me and whispered into her ear, then stood.
I chewed on a nail till Retta pulled down my hand. My eyes locked with hers, pleading for her to remain silent.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Morgan said, “these are unusual circumstances—”
“This smacks of judge-shopping to me, Mr. Morgan. Tell me why I shouldn’t deny without prejudice and have you file over there?” the judge quipped.
Mr. Greene narrowed his eyes at Mr. Morgan, then wrote something down.
My throat was dry. I pinched the skin on my neck, struggling to swallow.
“Your Honor, I’m here to represent the child’s best interest. This is an unusual matter. Miss Adams resides here, and this is Miss Lovett’s birthplace, the home of her family, her ancestors. Under our law, it seems that the court which has jurisdiction over the guardian and the ward has jurisdiction. This would be the court to enforce any future orders, as needed. If the court will please look at the letter inside the file, it will explain.” Mr. Morgan seated himself and briskly organized his papers again.
The courtroom quieted as the judge opened the file. Thumbing through the pages, he pulled out a sheet and scanned it once more.
“Okay.” The judge peered over the paper at the lawyer. “I have an application from you to award the guardianship of Honey Mary-Angeline Lovett to Miss Loretta Adams. Also included in this file is a letter from the father stating in case of incarceration he requested that Miss Adams would be the legal guardian. Is this correct?” he asked.
Mr. Morgan half stood and then sat back down, “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Greene, does the state have any objection?”
The man stood up and turned, studying us for a few seconds, concern stitched across his brow. Finally, he looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, Knott County Social Services is only concerned that the proffered guardian is qualified…and that the guardian remains so.” His eyes fell on Retta, questioning, as he tucked his tie and sat back down.
“Hmm. But we still have Judge Taylor over in Leslie County granting guardianship of the minor to the state.” The judge looked directly at me.