For Angelo(3)

The way Lane vehemently shook her head stopped Nellie from speaking.

“I’m sorry, N-Nellie…but I d-don’t think you understand anything.” But the girl’s voice was more pained than harsh, and it was the first time Nellie glimpsed any kind of strong emotion in her client.

Lips trembling, Lane said fiercely, “You might have heard all s-sorts of things about my mom, but I want you to know they’re all w-wrong about her. My mom’s a nice person, a kind person, and she’s the most wonderful, bravest person on earth. She never had anything bad to say about anyone, not even when he…”

Lane sucked her breath in, and her eyes suddenly squeezed shut as if she was trying to ward off a painful memory.

And Nellie had a sudden urge to run away and forget she ever knew someone named Lane Petersen.

Oh, no.

So this was why her dad wanted her to handle this girl’s case.

She cleared her throat. “Umm, Ms. Petersen—” She didn’t do Hallmark scenes, ever. That was so cliché, not to mention unprofitable. “I don’t think—”

But it was too late.

“I was seven when I first met my grandfather, and that first time h-he told me that my mom was a s-slut.”

Nellie wanted to cover her ears. I’m just going to pretend I’m not hearing anything, she thought desperately.

“He wanted me t-to disown her and come live with him in his mansion.”

Lane’s voice was emptier than any teenager had a right to sound, and Nellie furiously blinked back tears. She had never cried over sappy movies, and she was not going to cry now.

La-la-la, Nellie mentally sang, frantic to distract herself.

“When I d-didn’t agree, my grandfather got in touch with my school and told them about my mom’s job.” Lane was pale-faced, her gaze far away, and it was clear she was lost in a haze of despair and stolen innocence.

“We moved from town to town, but he would always find us, and he used his connections to ruin any chance of my mom finding a good job—”

The girl’s voice broke.

And Nellie’s heart of ice started to break with it.

Lane’s head swung to face her, and the young girl’s eyes sought Nellie’s in unconscious need.

“I just want you to understand,” Lane choked out, “that I don’t hate him. I r-really don’t b-because my mom taught me better than that.” She swallowed audibly, and the way the girl visibly fought not to cry ironically made Nellie want to bawl her own eyes out.

“I don’t hate my grandfather.” Lane whispered the words like a vow. “I don’t. But sometimes, I can’t help wondering, I can’t help asking God…how can a person be so cruel?”

Ah, God.

A single tear trailed down her cheek, ruining her makeup and maybe the rest of her life as well.

Damn you, Dad. I see what you’ve done now.

Lane’s question was so damn simple, and yet for all the years Nellie had spent studying in the best schools, she realized then that none of it had prepared her to answer such a question.

Only people with good hearts like Lane, people who weren’t like herself, could ask…and answer such questions.

“Everyone told me that I should be ashamed of my mother because of what she did,” Lane whispered. “But you see, I knew that she had done it…” She was visibly struggling to breathe. “I knew she had done it for me. I knew she thought there was no other way to raise me but to s-sell her b-body, and my grandfather—”

The girl choked back a sob, and Nellie wanted to choke the life out of the girl’s grandfather, if only the old man wasn’t already dead.

“He was supposed to be the smart one,” Lane finished brokenly. “He was supposed to be the educated one, so why—” The girl shook her head as if she was still unable to believe what she remembered…and lived through. “I begged him to help us pay for my mother’s bills, N-Nellie. I went down on my knees…”

Lane looked at Nellie with a gaze made dull by pain.

“But he said no. He said he would rather see my mother die than have his grandchild with him, and now…”

Nellie’s fingers dug deep into her palms, struggling to resist the urge to take the younger girl into her arms.

“My mother’s dead, and he’s dead, too.” Lane’s voice became toneless. “All that’s left is the money and I know it’s stupid, but I can’t s-stop thinking that if t-there wasn’t any money to begin with, then m-maybe everyone would still be alive. Maybe e-everyone would still be a-alive…and happy.”





****





Norman Mortimer knocked on the door of his daughter’s office but didn’t wait for her to answer, opening it and thus catching Nellie unaware. She was seated behind her table, eyes swollen with tears and her makeup completely ruined.

“I hate you.” But his daughter sounded more weary than furious.

Norman looked around the office. “Where’s your client?”

“She’s gone.” Nellie’s normally sophisticatedly sweet voice was harsh. “You really thought you’d get what you want? You’ll make me like you?” Nellie shook her head even as her heart cracked. “Someone who spends his entire life doing charity work, to the point of ignoring his own daughter’s existence?”