Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(59)

I took up a legal pad and pen, coming up with—and rejecting—several ideas on how to solve the residency issue, until realizing the pen had leaked ink all over my fingers. I washed my hands in the guest bathroom, still thinking.

The guest bathroom. A full four-piece: sink, toilet, shower, and a bathtub. Kids take baths, I thought absently.

I wandered to my office and leaned against the door. A desk against the wall took up the most space but I’d kept it relatively open in order to give myself room for yoga. Bookshelves lined one wall, and the closet was full of clothes I hadn’t worn in ages. Nothing in the room that couldn’t easily be relocated to the attic.

What, exactly, are you thinking?

I didn’t let myself think. I took up my cell phone again and punched a number.

“Abed? It’s Alex. I need you look something up for me.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


Cory



I glanced across the small courtroom in Superior Court, in downtown L.A. Georgia didn’t look at me, but remained safely barricaded behind her lawyer, Mr. Jeffries. A chubby, balding man with a smug look on his face. He’d shaken my hand upon first entering the room with a condescending smile, like he felt sorry for what he was about to do me…but only a little.

I sat alone on my half of the room, tugging irritably at the collar of my dress shirt. I’d worn an old tweed suit jacket as well, a tie, and khaki pants, in a futile attempt to look upstanding. I wished I’d thought to cut my hair but it was too late now. Like it mattered. This hearing was going to wreck me, and no haircut or semi-decent outfit was going to change that.

Judge James Walker entered, and the bailiff told everyone to rise.

The judge, a tired-looking man in his late sixties intoned in a bored voice, “With regards to docket number A4599, Owens vs. Bishop, concerning the residence of Calliope Bishop, a minor child. I will now hear arguments.”

Mr. Jeffries got to his feet. “Good morning, Your Honor. I’m Reginald Jeffries. My client…”

“I know who you are, Mr. Jeffries, and I’ve read the request for order. Ms. Owens wants to move. Mr. Bishop does not.” The judge folded his hands and peered over his nose at the attorney. “This Court is not in the business of removing children from their parents willy-nilly, Mr. Jeffries. Unless you can prove that Mr. Bishop is unable or inadequate or in some other way unfit to maintain shared custody of his daughter, I am inclined to deny the order.”

I felt hope swell and clasped my hands tightly together under the desk.

“I understand, Your Honor.” Mr. Jeffries cleared his throat. “As of two weeks ago, Mr. Bishop no longer has a permanent residence. Not one for himself, let alone one that is suitable for Callie during his every other weekend visitation.”

“Is this true, Mr. Bishop?”

I stood up. “Yes, Your Honor. I was recently hospitalized. I got out two days ago.”

“I have heard,” Judge Walker remarked, “and I have to warn you, I will not be swayed by past heroic deeds of derring-do. I am only concerned with the facts as they stand right at this moment.”

“Of course, Your Honor,” I said. “I only ask that I be given a little bit of time—”

Judge Walker held up his hand. “We’re not at the asking part of this hearing, we’re at the telling part. You may sit.” He turned to Jeffries. “What else? I want to hear your whole case and then I’ll let Mr. Bishop tell me his. Go.”

“Uh, yes,” Jeffries said, clearly rattled by the judge’s rather abrupt demeanor. “Mr. Bishop doesn’t have suitable housing for the minor child—”

“You already said that.”

“Nor does he have employment—”

I surged to my feet. “That’s not true. I have a job, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Bishop has been advised to recover from the injuries for another two weeks. My client, Ms. Owens, is eager to settle down in Sitka, Alaska prior to the start of the fall school term for her daughter. And should Mr. Bishop ignore the medical advice given him and sustain further injury…”

“And lightning might strike Mr. Bishop, rendering him a drooling vegetable right at this very moment,” the judge said. “But since we are only concerned about what has actually occurred and not hypothetical calamities, I’m going to give Mr. Bishop the benefit of the doubt on this one.” He peered at me. “Are you employed?”

“Yes. With the same company as at our last custody hearing, Your Honor.”

“Are you going against the medical advice of your doctor and returning to work sooner rather than later?”

“I feel fine, Your Honor.”

“Oh goody.” The judge turned to Jeffries. “What else?”

Jeffries squared his shoulders and I knew what was coming next. His ace in the hole.

“Due to Mr. Bishop’s recent hospital stay—a stay of two weeks that included surgery, respiratory therapy, and round-the-clock care—he has accrued a medical bill to the tune of $237,000. And…” he rocked on his heels, “he has no health insurance.”

Judge Walker’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked at me, as if disappointed. “Is that so?”

I didn’t bother to argue. I had nothing to argue with. “Yes, Your Honor. It’s true.”