“So why not interview a person who knows something about journalistic ethics?”
“Jo, you’re supposed to remain neutral.”
“Neutral as in letting Kathryn Morrissey shred Sam’s reputation two nights before his trial begins?”
“Kathryn will be discussing how journalists pursue truth. Period. It has nothing to do with Sam Parker.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You know NationTV wouldn’t be letting Kathryn Morrissey deliver her Journalism 101 lecture in prime time if Sam Parker wasn’t going on trial.”
Jill’s voice was icy. “The journalist’s obligation to truth is at the core of this trial.”
“What about the journalist’s obligation to be ethical?”
“You are such a fucking moralist, Jo.”
“Finished?”
“No. When I talked to Kathryn today, I told her you’d be doing a nightly piece on the trial for us. I also told her you were in a relationship with Sam’s lawyer. She said that didn’t worry her. She knew you’d be fair.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel guilty?”
“It’s supposed to make you reflect on the story I hired you to tell.”
“Jill, we’ve been friends for thirty years, and I think we’re about thirty seconds away from doing ourselves some serious damage. I’m going to hang up. Have a good Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow night after the interview airs,” Jill said and she hung up. No holiday wishes for me.
Zack worked through lunch. When he came over afterwards to take the little girls and me for a boat ride around the lake, I handed him a sandwich and told him about the Kathryn Morrissey interview.
“Well, that’s shitty news,” he said. Then he wolfed down his tuna salad sandwich.
“Good lunch,” he said. “Thanks. Are the kids ready to go?”
“Are you really not bothered by this?”
“Sure, but I’m not going to let it wreck our day.”
“Can you teach me how to compartmentalize?”
“No problem,” he said. “Can you teach me how to make tuna salad?”
The day was windy, clear, and fresh, and Zack, who usually drove his Chris-Craft across the water at speeds that made my adrenalin pump, took it slow, staying within easy distance of the shoreline as he circled the lake. I was grateful. And there was something else. I had snapped Madeleine and Lena into matching life jackets that signalled their commitment to water safety with a cartoon of a whale and the legend “Buoy, oh boy.” As always, I was wearing my life jacket. Standard procedure, but until that day Zack had habitually left his life jacket on the seat beside him: within reach if someone challenged him, but useless in an emergency. That afternoon, he slipped it on before we set out.
As I settled in behind him with the girls, I patted his shoulder approvingly. “Getting cautious in your old age?”
“Nope, just increasingly aware of the fact that I’ve got a lot to lose.”
The sun was still warm at 5:00 p.m., so we fired up the barbeque, threw blankets on the leaf-littered lawn, and ate our burgers outside. After dinner, Mieka and Greg and Pete and Charlie took the boat out, and Zack and I sat, hand in hand, watching Madeleine and Lena play in the lengthening shadows of the trees. That night, intoxicated by fresh air and the novelty of spending the night together, we turned in early. By the time I’d finished brushing, flossing, and slathering on the Oil of Olay, Zack was in bed. I turned out the light and crawled in beside him.
He put his arm around me. “Happy?” he said.
“I am. How about you?”
“If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I laughed. “You are such a smoothy. Speaking of which, did you and Charlie ever talk?”
“We did. I took your advice and waited till noon, but I still woke him up. I apologized and told him I had one quick question about the Glenda Parker interview. He assured me that he and Glenda were alone during the taping, and he hadn’t told a soul about the edit.”
“That’s good news,” I said.
“It is,” Zack agreed. “And Charlie welcomed the opportunity to share it. He said it was important for me to know that I could trust him.”
“A story with a happy ending,” I said.
“The story’s not over,” Zack said. “Charlie offered to scramble me some eggs.”
“And you took him up on his offer.”
“Sure. I figured there was something on his mind, and this close to a trial, I don’t leave any stone unturned. Besides, I was hungry.”
“So what did Charlie want to talk about?”
“Fathers. He asked if I was close to my mine. I think if I had been, Charlie and I would have eaten our eggs and said sayonara. But lucky for me, I saw my old man precisely once and that was for less than an hour.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention your father.”
