She related the story as matter-of-factly as she could, like Joe Friday said on
She told him what happened, but it was the things she didn’t tell him that tore her apart. How sweet Grace’s little rosebud mouth had been when she made sucking motions in her sleep. How thick her dark hair had been, already curling around the tiny shell of her ear. How the baby’s hand had grasped her mother’s finger, those dark eyes tinted blue as they looked up into Leah’s face. How, the first instant she had looked into her baby’s face, she had fallen in love instantly, more completely and without any reserve, than she ever had or would again in her life.
Those things weren’t important, not to Donald Highbrow, even though, for Leah, they were the only things that mattered.
“You’re certain that Mrs. Goulden told you they were hospital discharge papers?”
“Yes.” Leah insisted. “She intentionally tricked me.”
“Were there any witnesses to that fact?”
“I don’t know.” Leah cocked her head, trying to remember. “There were no nurses in the room, but it wasn’t a private room. There were other girls with their babies. Someone might have overheard us.”
He nodded, taking more notes. “You were discharged that day, correct?”
“Yes. My mother arrived to take us home but… Grace was gone. And I went home with Rob.”
“But I understand you were readmitted to the hospital two days later?”
“She was…” Rob interjected, squeezing Leah’s hand again. “She had a little breakdown. We called our family doctor in, and after he made a house call, he felt it best to admit her overnight, so he could sedate her more fully… “
“Is that bad?” Leah swallowed shameful tears. “I didn’t mean to. I just… kind of… lost it…”
“I understand.” Donald Highbrow gave her a long, sympathetic look. “It wasn’t your fault. But I need to be honest with you, Leah. You have to understand, if we end up in court, they will use that against you.”
“I was hysterical with grief!” she protested,
“They will twist everything you said or did to fit their purpose,” he explained slowly. “You will be presented as an unwed mother, and that will be bad enough. Most courts would see you as unfit for that reason alone.”
“She won’t be an unwed mother for long,” Rob snapped. Leah saw his jaw working and knew he was angry- really angry.
Donald smiled sadly. “I can’t change the way the world works or how the judge will see things. If we end up in court, they will do everything in their power to show you as unfit, Leah, even if your circumstances have changed. I’ve gone through enough of these cases to know their tactics.”
“But I’m not unfit!” Leah choked, blinking back the tears that threatened.
“I know that,” the lawyer reassured her. “But even your overnight stay in the hospital could be used as proof that you’re mentally unstable.”
Leah covered her face with her hands, defeated. “Oh my god.”
Donald wasn’t done dealing out the facts. “They’ll want to force you to submit to a psychiatric exam with one of their doctors. He, of course, will diagnose you as sexually deviant because you got pregnant out of wedlock in the first place, and hence, you may be judged unfit to be a mother.”
“What the hell?” Rob exploded. Leah looked over at him, incredulous. “It’s like the Salem witch trials. If she drowns, she’s not a witch, but if she floats, she’s a witch, and we get to burn her!”
“Very much so, I’m afraid.” Donald nodded slowly. “If you are, indeed, married by the time we reach a courtroom, they will likely swap the sexual deviancy argument.”
Rob sat back. “Well that’s a relief.”
“I didn’t say they’d drop it. I said they’d swap it.” Donald tapped his pen on the yellow legal pad. “They will, instead, label Leah as neurotic. They will point to all of those natural reactions of grief-crying jags, bouts of anger and depression, irritability, low self-esteem, anxiety, even chronic headaches and stomachaches-as signs of neurosis that prove her unfit to be a mother.”
“Is there any hope at all?” Leah whispered, feeling the sick ball in her stomach tightening with every word out of the lawyer’s mouth.
“Of course there is!” Donald insisted, giving her a reassuring smile. He really was a handsome man, sharp in his suit, his salt and pepper hair neatly cut and combed. He had always given off a sense of confidence that Leah had deeply felt. When he talked, people really listened and trusted what he had to say. It was probably what made him such a good lawyer.
Donald reached over and patted Leah’s hand. “I just want you to be prepared for the worst. We are gearing up for war here, and we want as much ammunition as possible on our side. That’s why I need to know everything, absolutely
Leah met Rob’s eyes and she knew he saw the panic in hers. What if they found out? About the secret room under the loft? The pictures? The Mary Magdalenes? Rob pressed his lips together and gave a small shake of his head, but it wasn’t reassurance enough for Leah.
“Is there anything I should know?” Donald asked, looking between them.
“We’re living together,” Leah admitted, looking back at the lawyer. “In sin. Technically.”
Donald nodded. “I would get married as quickly as possible. Elope. Go to the Justice of the Peace if you have to, just so you have a marriage license on file with the state. Appearances are important now, more than ever.”
Leah nodded, remembering that this was the man who had arranged to fake her mother’s marriage license.
Donald wrote something else down, underlining it. Twice. “Is there anything untoward in your pasts I need to know about? Any history of mental illness in your families? Any criminal history?”
Leah and Rob looked at each other. She knew what he was thinking. How could they risk telling him?
Rob shook his head. “No, not that I’m aware of. I’m an upstanding citizen. We go to church. I donate generously.”
“Your age difference is going to be problematic,” Donald said, looking directly at Rob. “No judge is going to like the fact that you impregnated a girl half your age, even if you did end up married to her.”
“I understand that.” Rob’s jaw was working again. “But it’s your job to make them understand that we’re good people, that we love each other and we want to keep our baby.”
“Yes, that it is.” Donald flipped his notepad over the desk. “And trust me, I will do my job.”
“That’s why I hired you.” Rob held out his hand and Donald shook it.
“Not yet. There’s still a matter of my retainer.” Donald laughed and nodded toward the door. “You can pay it on your way out.”
“So there really is hope?” Leah asked. “I really might get her back?”
“I’m a cautious optimist,” Donald explained, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tented under his chin. “In these cases, I find social workers and doctors take advantage of naive young girls like yourself who know nothing about the law or their rights under it. They’re told all sorts of lies, like they’ll have to pay the hospital bill before they can take their baby-which isn’t true, of course. Or they’re told their babies are already promised to families.”
Leah gasped. “That’s exactly what she told me!”
“Of course it is.” Donald grimaced. “She wanted your baby. Every baby adopted means she’s doing her job, and of course, it means there is a large donation made from a happy adoptive couple to the church.”
Rob frowned. “Is it really so nefarious?”
“Oh, no.” Donald waved the thought away. “I think these social workers really believe they’re doing what’s best for the baby. I mean, if you hadn’t come riding in on your white horse to rescue her, Leah would probably be on the streets of New York right now, doing God only knows what, with a newborn. What kind of life is that for a child?”
Leah glared at him. “A better one than without her own mother…”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Donald countered. “I believe you have rights as a mother, and the law does too. And I
