While Justice Sleeps(60)
“Oh, God.” She whispered the oath, too low to carry over the line. Rita and the chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. She’d had this nightmare before, but she’d always woken up. “How long—how long have they been talking?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Debi replied. “She told the Chief she was worried about you. We all are.”
The bump on her head began to throb. Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to hold off panic. “Can you put me through?”
“Interrupt them?”
“Yes. Right now.” Avery spun through the collection of excuses she’d been building since grade school. Allergies for the glassy eyes. Pneumonia for the waxen face. “Please, Mrs. Starnes.”
Another hesitation; then: “Hold, please.”
Avery lined up her stories, checking them for holes. Yes, she had given money to a drug addict last night, but Rita hadn’t given her much of a choice. No, she still had no idea where the $500,000 had come from, except from a man who had called and threatened to ruin her life.
Before she completed the list, the Chief spoke: “Hello.”
“Chief.”
“I believe you know I’m in conference.” The Chief smiled kindly at the bedraggled woman in stained gold satin pants and an oversized shirt buttoned at the wrists. The pallid skin of the once-lovely face showed the ravages of neglect. “How can I help you?”
“Let me explain anything she’s told you.” Depending on whether she was flying or falling, Rita’s stories either set Avery as a saint or as the ungrateful spawn who threw her away. “She’s a very sick woman, and she’s often confused.”
“She seems quite lucid to me. I think you should hear what she has to say.” Without waiting for her agreement, Chief Roseborough activated the speakerphone. “Avery.”
“Oh, Avery!” Rita inched forward on the softly cushioned seat and pitched her voice loud enough to fill the room. The high that had carried her through the night had worn off early that morning, leaving her alert to a world attacking her daughter. She’d gone down to a shelter and showered, then put on her cleanest outfit. The part of her that remembered being normal, being a mother, forced her to board the Metro and come to the Court. One unsteady hand fiddled with the buttons on her cuff. “Were your ears burning, baby?”
Avery rasped out, “Rita. What are you doing at my job? We talked about this.”
“I saw the paper and heard those nasty folks on the television.” Rita reached out a shaky hand for the dainty cup the secretary had placed on the lady judge’s desk. The pale amber contents, some fancy-sounding tea, had been filled with sugar at her request, but she’d been afraid to drink. Afraid she’d spill the tea all over the expensive rug beneath her feet. Afraid she’d forget the speech she’d planned on the ride over. Afraid her body would notice the absence of rum in the drink. But, because her hands needed something to do, she picked up the cup.
The china bobbled, and Rita used both hands to lift it to her mouth. She took a tentative drink to wet her tongue. “I heard what they said about you, baby, and I had to come and set the record straight.”
“That’s okay,” Avery pleaded. “I’ve taken care of things.”
Rita shook her head. “You never could brag about yourself. No, it’s a mother’s job to protect her child.”
“Rita.”
The Chief interjected: “Your mother has been quite helpful, Avery.”
Rita scooted closer to the phone. “I’ve been telling your boss about how smart you are. How honest.” She gulped more of the tea, pleased by the sweet taste, wishing vainly for more of a bite. “Remember when you won that writing award in Tucson? They accidentally gave you a hundred dollars, but you’d only won fifty. You sent them a letter and gave the money back, even though we were about to be evicted.”
Avery remembered the episode clearly. The raging argument between a tweaked-up cokehead and an eleven-year-old. “It wasn’t my money.”
“That’s right,” Rita replied proudly, forgetting how she’d threatened and cajoled Avery, trying to keep the cash. “You did what was right.” She focused hard green eyes on the Chief. “My baby always does what’s right, no matter what. Even when folks disappoint her or hurt her. No way she’s whoring around or trying to hurt that sick man. She’s a good girl, my Avery.”
Chief Roseborough reached out a hand to cover the trembling one on the desk. Tracks jagged along clammy skin that seemed unable to hold warmth. Aloud, she said, “I agree with you, Mrs. Keene. Avery has never given me any cause to doubt her honesty. And, regardless, I make my own judgments.” The Chief lightly squeezed the fragile bones beneath her fingers. “I’ve been around long enough to know not to believe everything I read or hear.”
“Good. Good.” Rita released an anxious breath. Her desire for a drink faded for one of the rare instants, and she turned her hand over to grip the Chief’s. “Avery has worked hard all her life. I don’t know what I’d do if she lost everything because of a lie.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Chief Roseborough assured Rita, whose eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and contrition. “Avery, do you understand?”