The Jodi Picoult Collection Read online

  Katie did not hear the rest. All she knew was within moments, Adam was in the same room as her. She began to take short, shallow breaths; each one rustling, as if she might unwrap it to find the candy of his name. Adam placed his palm over the Bible and Katie pictured it, instead, pressed against the flat of her own belly.

  And then he looked at her. There was a sorrow in his gaze that made Katie think anguish had risen within him like a sea, leaving a watermark that cut right across the blue of his eyes. He stared at her, kept staring at her, until the air went solid and her heart thudded in her chest, hard enough for there to be a recoil.

  Katie bit her lip, pulling shame tight as a shawl. She had done this, she had brought them to this point. I’m sorry.

  Don’t worry.

  She lifted shaking hands to cover her face, thinking like a child now: if she could not see Adam, surely she would be invisible.

  “Ms. Hathaway,” the judge said. “Would you like to take a moment?”

  “No,” Ellie answered. “My client is fine.”

  But Katie wasn’t fine. She couldn’t stop trembling, and the tears were coming harder, and for the life of her she couldn’t look up and see Adam again. She could feel the stares of the jury members like so many tiny pinpricks, and she wondered why Ellie wouldn’t do this one thing for her—let her run out of here, and never look back.

  “Please,” she whispered to Ellie.

  “Shh. Trust me.”

  “Are you sure, counselor?” Judge Ledbetter asked.

  Ellie glanced at the jury, at their open-mouthed expressions. “Positive.”

  At that moment, Katie thought she truly hated Ellie.

  “Your Honor,” came his voice; oh, Lord, his sweet, deep voice, like the hum of a buggy running over the pavement. “May I?” He picked up the box of tissues on the stand, and nodded in Katie’s general direction.

  “No, Mr. Sinclair. You will stay where you are,” the judge ordered.

  “I have to object to this, Your Honor,” the prosecutor insisted. “Ms. Hathaway put this witness on for purely dramatic value, and nothing of true import.”

  “I haven’t even questioned him yet, George,” Ellie said.

  “Counsel—approach,” Judge Ledbetter said. She began to whisper angrily to Ellie and the county attorney, their voices rising in small spurts. Adam looked from the bench to Katie, who was still weeping. He picked up the box of tissues and opened the gate to the witness stand.

  The bailiff stepped forward. “Sir, I’m sorry, but—”

  Adam pushed past him, his footsteps growing louder as he approached the defense table. Judge Ledbetter looked up and called out his name. When he kept walking, she banged her gavel. “Mr. Sinclair! You will stop now, or I’ll hold you in contempt of court!”

  But Adam did not stop. As the prosecutor’s voice rose in outrage, wrapped around the angry warnings of the judge, Adam knelt beside Katie. She could smell him, could feel the heat coming off his body, and she thought: This is my Armageddon.

  She felt the soft stroke of a tissue along her cheek.

  The voices of the judge and lawyers faded, but Katie did not notice. Adam’s thumb grazed her skin, and she closed her eyes.

  In the background, George Callahan threw up his hands and began to argue again.

  “Thank you,” Katie whispered, taking the tissue from Adam’s hand.

  He nodded, silent. The bailiff, following orders, grasped Adam’s arm and wrenched him to his feet. Katie watched him being led back to the witness stand, every slow step a mile between them.

  * * *

  “I’m a ghost hunter,” Adam said, responding to Ellie’s question. “I search for and record paranormal phenomena.”

  “Can you tell us what that entails?”

  “Staying overnight in places that are assumed to be haunted; trying to detect some change in the energy field either by dowsing or by a specialized type of photography.”

  “Besides your Ph.D. from Penn State in parapsychology, do you hold any other degrees?”

  “Yes. A bachelor’s of science and a master’s degree from MIT.”

  “In what field, Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Physics.”

  “Would you consider yourself a man of science, then?”

  “Absolutely. It’s why I know paranormal phenomena have to exist—any physicist will tell you that energy can’t be lost, but only transformed.”

  “How did you get to know Jacob Fisher?” Ellie asked.

  “We met in a class at Penn State—I was a teaching assistant, he was an undergraduate. I was immediately attracted to his focus as a student.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “Well, obviously, given the field I’m in, I can’t afford to make light of my work. I’ve found that the best way to go about my business is to put my nose to the grindstone and just do my research and not worry about what everyone else thinks. Jacob reminded me of myself, in that. For an undergraduate, he was far less interested in the social scene on campus than the academic side. When it came time to sublet my house, since I’d be traveling to do research, I approached him as a potential tenant.”

  “When did you meet Jacob’s sister?”

  Adam’s gaze moved from Ellie to Katie and softened. “The first time was the day I got my Ph.D. Her brother introduced us.”

  “Can you tell us about that?”

  “She was beautiful and wide-eyed and shy. I knew she was Amish—I had learned that from Jacob some time back—but she wasn’t dressed that way.” He hesitated, then lifted his palm. “We shook hands. Perfectly ordinary. But I remember thinking that I didn’t want to let go.”

  “Did you have the opportunity to meet Katie again?”

  “Yes, she visited her brother once a month. Jacob moved into my house a few months before I officially moved out, so I got to see Katie when she made her trips to State College.”

  “Did your relationship progress?”

  “We became friends very quickly. She was interested in my work, not in the National Enquirer hack way, but truly respectful of what I was trying to do. I found it very easy to talk to her, because she was so open and honest. To me, it was like she wasn’t of this world—and in many ways I guess that was true.” He shifted in his seat. “I was attracted to her. I knew better—God, I was ten years older than her, experienced, and clearly not Amish. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

  “Did you become lovers?”

  He watched Katie’s cheeks bloom with color. “Yes.”

  “Had Katie ever slept with anyone before?”

  “No.” Adam cleared his throat. “She was a virgin.”

  “Did you love her, Mr. Sinclair?”

  “I still do,” he said quietly.

  “Then why weren’t you here for her when she became pregnant?”

  Adam shook his head. “I didn’t know about it. I’d postponed my research trip twice, to stay close to her. But that night after . . . after the conception, I left for Scotland.”

  “Have you come back to the States between then and now?”

  “No. If I had, I would have gone to see Katie. But I’ve been in remote villages, unreachable areas. Saturday was the first time I’ve been on American soil in a year.”

  “If you had known about the baby, Mr. Sinclair, what would you have done?”

  “I would have married Katie in a heartbeat.”

  “But you’d have to be Amish. Could you convert?”

  “It’s been done, I know, but I probably couldn’t. My faith isn’t strong enough.”

  “So marriage wouldn’t really have been an option. What else would you have done?” Ellie asked.

  “Anything. I would have left her among family and friends, but hoped that I could still have some future with her.”

  “What kind of future?”

  “Whatever she was willing or able to give me,” Adam said.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ellie continued, “but a shared future between an Amish