Keeping Faith Read online

  When Malcolm Metz gets to the office, called by an extremely apologetic Elkland--who was pulling an all-nighter when Colin White stormed into the lobby like an unconfined tiger--his head is still wet from his shower and his eyes are bloodshot. It pisses him off, particularly because he likes to look his best on days he litigates, yet he's due in court in less than five hours, and he's going to look as if he's been out carousing the whole night before. He draws up short at the sight of his client--hair standing in tufts around his head, jacket looking slept in...and is that blood on the sleeve?

  "Christ," Metz says. "You look worse than I do."

  "Okay," Colin begins, not even bothering to look at his attorney. "This is the thing. She's in pain. She's in the goddamned hospital. And I don't care what you say, people listen to TV, and it's going to sway what the judge thinks. Look at that nanny trial in Boston! I'm paying you a shitload of money to get a winning verdict. And I'm telling you, it's happening to her in the house, Malcolm. I saw it with my own eyes. Someone or something in there is making her sick."

  "Hang on," Metz says. "Who's sick? Who's in the hospital?"

  Colin looks at him as if he is crazy. "Faith."

  Metz's eyes widen. "Faith's in the hospital?"

  "She started bleeding last night. It happened right in front of me. She was just standing there and all of a sudden..." He shakes his head. "Christ, I've got to believe they can do more than give her drugs to take the edge off. I mean...something has to happen to make you bleed."

  Metz holds up a hand. "Your daughter is is the hospital," he clarifies.

  "Yeah."

  "She's under observation."

  "That's right."

  A smile breaks across Metz's face. "Oh, God, how perfect." At Colin's glare he hastens to explain himself. "We've been working up an angle for your case, Colin, and strangely enough, this corroborates it." As Elkland outlines Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy for Colin, Metz thinks back to his original ex parte motion, lobbed at the judge for the hell of it, but clearly now an unconscious stroke of genius. "Picture this: We walk into chambers this morning and file an emergency motion, begging Rothbottam to separate Faith from her mother because her life is in serious jeopardy. The first time we did it, he thought we were bluffing, and he let her stay with her mother. But thanks to his faulty judgment, the kid's now in the hospital. I explain Munchausen's and tell him that our expert will prove why we need this emergency provision. Then I ask for a court order keeping Mariah away from Faith. The judge will feel so guilty about throwing out the first motion that this time he'll jump right through my hoop."

  Colin stares at him, scowling. "I've never heard of this Munchausen thing."

  Metz grins. "Me neither. But by the time the hearing's over, we'll be pros."

  He shakes his head. "I don't know, Malcolm. Mariah...well, she may be a little preoccupied with herself sometimes, but she'd never intentionally hurt Faith."

  Elkland bites her lip. "Mr. White, from what I've read, that's part of the psychological disorder--looking like the ideal, concerned parent while you lie about what you've done."

  "I stood two feet away from Faith last night and watched her just start to bleed," Colin says slowly. "She didn't prick herself on anything; she didn't touch anything at all, in fact...and Mariah was even farther away than I was. But you're saying that you think...you think--"

  Metz shakes his head. "The question isn't what I think, or what you think, Colin," he says, "but rather, what do you want the judge to think?"

  Kenzie is asleep beside her laptop when the phone rings. "Ms. van der Hoven," says a silky voice when she lifts the receiver.

  It would be impossible, even in her state of muzzy confusion, to not recognize Malcolm Metz. "You're up early."

  "Five A.M. is the best part of the day."

  "I wouldn't know."

  Metz chuckles. "I guess you've already sent in your report."

  With a sinking sensation, Kenzie looks at the computer screen, blank as a wall.

  "I assume you faxed it to His Honor last night so the judge could read it before today's trial. But I felt honor-bound to let you know something before court began."

  "Which is what, Mr. Metz?"

  "Faith White was hospitalized last night."

  At that, Kenzie snaps upright. "She what?"

  "As I understand from my client, she started bleeding from her hands again, and that escalated into a more serious condition."

  "Oh, my God. Who's with her now?"

  "Her mother, I assume." There is a hesitation on the line. "But I wanted you to know that I plan to amend that. I'm asking the judge for a restraining order to keep Mariah away from the child. I have reason to believe that Mariah's the one who's harming Faith."

  "You have evidence?" she asks.

  "I've come to the conclusion that Mrs. White suffers from a certain psychological disorder. I have an expert who's reviewed the case, and who agrees with me."

  "I see."

  "Well, you will anyway. I just thought you might like to know in advance," Metz says, and then he hangs up.

  Kenzie turns on her computer and waits for the screen to spring to life. It makes her wince--too much energy all at once. She begins to type furiously, hoping that she will have a chance to visit Faith before court is in session, hoping that if there is indeed a heavenly being watching over Faith, it can follow her into an ambulance, a hospital, a new and safer home.

  "I recommend that custody of Faith White," she types, "be awarded to her father."

  FOURTEEN

  He saved others; himself he cannot save.

  --Matthew 27:42

  December 3, 1999--Morning

  There had been times, when Faith was an infant and Mariah was still slightly amazed to find a baby sleeping beside her or nursing at her own breast, that she'd be overwhelmed with terror. Years stretched out in front of her like red roads on a map, filled with hazards and errors. Faith's life, at that point, was unmarked and unscarred. It was up to Mariah to keep it that way.

  It became clear to her quickly that this was a job she could never adequately fill, not without feeling deficient. How could she even be considered remotely qualified to be a mother, knowing that she was every bit as fallible as this baby was perfect? In the stitch of a moment, anything could go wrong--an earthquake, a viral flu, a pacifier dropped into the gutter. She would look into her daughter's face and see accidents waiting to happen. And then her vision would clear and she would see only love, a well so deep that you could try and try and never know its bottom, but only suck in your breath at its frightening depth.

  Faith stirs in her sleep, and immediately Mariah turns. Of its own volition, Faith's bandaged hand twitches across the covers of the hospital bed and burrows beneath Mariah's. At the contact, Faith stops moving and relaxes again.

  Suddenly Mariah wonders if moments like this are what qualify you as a good parent: realizing that no matter how you try, you will not be able to protect a child from the tragedies or the missteps or the nightmares. Maybe the job of a mother is not to shelter but to bear witness as a child hits full force...and then to cushion the fall when it's over.

  Mariah's hands are pressed tight against her mouth. She has to keep them that way, because if she doesn't she will surely break into loud, hoarse sobs or shout at one of the well-meaning nurses to get away from her daughter.

  "I don't understand," Millie says quietly, standing with Mariah a few feet from Faith's bed. "She's never been sick like this before. Maybe it's a bug, something she caught on top of the bleeding."

  "It's not a bug," Mariah whispers. "She's dying."

  Millie looks up, startled. "What on earth makes you say that?"

  "Look at her."

  Faith is pale against the hospital sheets. Her hands, still oozing blood, are matted with bandages that have not yet been changed. Her fever has fluctuated from 104 to 106 degrees, no matter how many tepid baths and alcohol washes and grams of Tylenol and Advil she's been given intravenou