Keeping Faith Read online

  "Ian Fletcher had sworn that he wouldn't exploit Faith. It was the only way I agreed to allow him in to film my mother's stress test. When I turned away for a minute, he had his cameraman pan over to Faith, and I jumped between her and the lens."

  "What was going through your mind at that moment?"

  "That he not film Faith. The last thing I wanted was more media interest in her. She's just a little girl; she ought to be allowed to live like one."

  "Do you think that you were emotionally unstable at that moment?"

  "No. I was steady as a rock. I was completely focused on keeping Faith safe."

  "Thank you," Joan says. "Now I want you to consider Mr. Metz's final question. Under this scenario of his, Faith would be moved to a new environment. She'd be living with the woman she caught in a compromising position with her father. She's got a new sibling coming. She's not in familiar surroundings. Not to mention the fact that her groupies from the front lawn will probably drive across town to take up residence at her new home. Does this sound like an accurate representation?"

  "Yes," Mariah says.

  "Good. Now, during this trial, did Colin convince you that he was the better parent for Faith?"

  "No," Mariah answers, confused.

  "Did Dr. Orlitz, the state-appointed psychiatrist, convince you that Colin was the better parent for Faith?"

  "No," she says, her voice a little stronger.

  "Did Dr. DeSantis, the private psychiatrist for the plaintiff, convince you that Colin was the better parent for Faith?"

  "No."

  "How about Allen McManus?"

  "No."

  "Mr. Fletcher?"

  "No.

  "What about Dr. Birch? Did he convince you that Colin is the better parent for Faith?"

  Mariah smiles at Joan and pulls the microphone a little closer. Her voice is strong and steady. "No. He did not."

  After the defense rests, the judge calls a recess. I go to wait in the tiny conference room Joan and I have been using, and after a few minutes the door opens and Ian enters. "Joan told me I'd find you here," he says quietly.

  "I asked her to."

  He doesn't seem to know how to respond.

  "Thank you for finding Dr. Fitzgerald."

  Ian shrugs. "I sort of owed it to you."

  "You didn't owe me anything."

  Pushing away from the table, I stand and walk toward him. His hands are deeply set in his pockets, as if he is afraid to touch me. "Maybe I should thank you, too," he murmurs. "For what you didn't say."

  I shake my head. Sometimes there aren't words. The silence between us is flung wide as an ocean, but I manage to reach across it, to wrap my arms around him.

  His hands close over my back; his breath stirs the hair at the nape of my neck. He will be with me. Right now, that's enough. "Mariah," he whispers, "you may be my religion."

  The judge calls the guardian ad litem to the stand. "The attorneys and I have all read your report. Do you have anything you'd like to add at this point?"

  Kenzie nods briskly. "I do. I think the court needs to know that I am the one who let Mariah White into the Medical Center at two A.M. on Sunday."

  At the plaintiff's table, Metz's jaw drops. Joan looks into her lap. The judge asks Kenzie to explain herself.

  "Your Honor, I know that you can hold me in contempt of court and send me to jail. But before you do, I'd like you to hear me out, because I've become very attached to the child in this particular case, and I don't want a mistake to be made."

  The judge eyes her warily. "Continue."

  "As you know, I've filed a report. I met with many people, and I originally concluded that if the child's life was at all endangered, moving her out of that situation would be best. So in the paper you're holding in your hand, I recommend that custody be granted to the father."

  Metz claps his client on the shoulder and grins.

  "However," Kenzie says, "I made a decision late Saturday night, after a doctor told Mrs. Epstein that Faith might be dying. I didn't think that the U.S. justice system had the right to keep a mother from saying good-bye. So I called Mrs. White and told her to come to the hospital. I thought, Your Honor, that I was simply being kind...and I would have expected my report to stand on its own.

  "But then something happened." Kenzie shakes her head. "I wish I could explain it, really. All I know is that I saw, with my own eyes, a child who was comatose and failing come back from the edge once her mother was at her side." She hesitates. "The courtroom is no place for personal observation, Your Honor, but I want to share a story with you because it has relevance to my decision. My great-grandmother and great-grandfather were married for sixty-two years. When my great-grandfather died of a stroke, my great-grandma--who was in perfect health--passed away two days later. In my family we've always said that Nana died of a broken heart. It may not be medically accurate...but then again, doctors concentrate on people's bodies, not their emotions. And if it is possible to die of grief, Judge Rothbottam, then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?"

  Kenzie leans forward. "Your Honor, I switched from being a lawyer to being a guardian ad litem ten years ago, and I have a fairly legal mind. I've tried to come at this from a rational viewpoint, and it just doesn't work. I had people telling me about visions and crying statues and the passion agony of Christ. I had other people telling me about religious hoaxes. I heard about people who were very sick, then completely healthy after brushing Faith in the hospital elevator.

  "I've witnessed a lot of inexplicable things lately, but none of them point to the fact that Mariah White is hurting Faith. In fact, I think she saved her life. And it's not going to help this little girl one whit to be moved away from her mother's influence." She clears her throat. "So I'm sorry, Judge. But I'd like you to completely disregard my report."

  The courtroom erupts in confusion. Malcolm Metz furiously whispers to Colin. The judge rubs his hand over his face.

  "Your Honor," Metz says, getting to his feet, "I'd like to give a closing argument."

  "You know, Mr. Metz, I bet you would." Rothbottam sighs. "But you're not the one I want to hear from. I've listened to you and Ms. Standish, and to Ms. van der Hoven, and I don't know what the heck to believe. I need a little lunch break--and I'd like to spend it with Faith."

  Mariah turns toward her daughter. Faith's eyes are wide, confused.

  "What do you say?" Judge Rothbottam asks. He comes out from behind the bench and walks toward the gallery. "Would you like to have lunch with me, Faith?"

  Faith glances at her mother, who nods imperceptibly. The judge holds out his hand. Faith slides hers into it, and walks out of the courtroom beside him.

  She likes his chair. It goes around and around, faster than the one at her father's office. And she likes the music he plays. Faith glances at the collection of compact discs on one shelf. "Do you have Disney stuff?"

  Judge Rothbottam plucks out a CD, slides it into the player, and the strains of the Broadway-cast recording of The Lion King fill the room. As he shrugs out of his robes, Faith gasps.

  "What is it?" he asks.

  She looks down, feeling her cheeks heat the way they do when she's caught stealing a brownie before dinner. "I didn't know you had clothes on under there."

  At that, the judge laughs. "Last time I checked." He sits down across from her. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

  She nods over the turkey sandwich he's placed on the massive desk for her. "Me, too."

  He draws a chair closer. "Faith, who do you want to live with?"

  "I want them together," she says. "But I can't have that, right?"

  "No." Judge Rothbottam looks at her. "Does God talk to you, Faith?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Do you know that a lot of people are interested in you because of that?"

  "Yes."

  The judge hesitates. "How do I know if you're telling the truth?"

  Faith lifts her face to his. "When you're in court, how do you tell?"