Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"You think I mistreated her?"

"How else am I to feel?"

With an unhappy look, slumped in his chair, Nate nodded, mostly to himself.

"Not to mention the fact that you abused me, Nate, and our friendship.

You lied to me. Quite boldly."

Natc again closed his eyes, then licked his lips so he could speak.

"I was afraid of what you would do when you found out. I admit that.

But I want you to know something-I followed her lead. At all times. I did what she wanted."

Cornered, cowod, Nate took a coward's msp0nse. He blamed Clara. He was too weak-perhaps to focus upon the sheer nasty bite of these words. But this meanness, intended or not, hit Stern like a blow. Yes, of course.

This was the rebuke he had coming: she liked it. For an instant, he was 'close to responding with gutter obscenities. Even when he recovered, his accent, to his own ear, suddenly seethed peculiarly distinct.

"Nate, you are a scoundrel."

"Jesus," Nate said again.

Stern resumed his feet. This confrontation, long imagined, like so much else, seemed far more difficult in actuality than in prospect. He had no wish to prolong it. But Nate's comment still left a wake of ruthless emotion.

"One last word, Nate," said Stern. "A piece of friendly advice." Nate, who, all in all, looked thoroughly wrecked by this conversation, sat up on alert: he knew something else was coming. And he was certainly correct, for 'Stern had had a flash of the insight that for three decades had 'saved his life in the courtroom, some adrenalizexl ability of the synapses to suddenly connect, no more explicable than the gift of tongues or flight. "I suggest you fire your nurse before you head off for divorce court. Fiona has some damaging evidence, and the cross-examination will be even nastier if that young woman remains on your payroll."

The nurse was there, fiddling with some charts, when Stern threw open the office door. She had taken a message from his office and handed Stern the slip. He did not bother examining it now. He was in a courtrom mode, playing for appearance, knowing his behavior would be carefully recounted. He looked her up and down, just like that, an entire once-over, which she took in almost innocently, with the same uncertain smile, the same unruffled bland beauty.

Then he showed himseft out, having decided, with liona's videotape well in mind, that the young woman belonged to that small class of human beings who look worse with their clothes on.

CLAUDIA called--URONT," read the pink message slip the nurse had handed him. He reached her on the car phone, driving back to the office. "They got you," said Claudia.

"I have something somewhat pressing of my own. Please find the number at Dr. and Mrs. Cawley's home and patch me through." They were on the line together while it rang a number of times; Fiona was not in. Stern swo Stern resumed his feet. This confrontation, long imagined, like so much else, seemed far more difficult in actuality than in prospect. He had no wish to prolong it. But Nate's comment still left a wake of ruthless emotion.

"One last word, Nate," said Stern. "A piece of friendly advice." Nate, who, all in all, looked thoroughly wrecked by this conversation, sat up on alert: he knew something else was coming. And he was certainly correct, for 'Stern had had a flash of the insight that for three decades had 'saved his life in the courtroom, some adrenalizexl ability of the synapses to suddenly connect, no more explicable than the gift of tongues or flight. "I suggest you fire your nurse before you head off for divorce court. Fiona has some damaging evidence, and the cross-examination will be even nastier if that young woman remains on your payroll."

The nurse was there, fiddling with some charts, when Stern threw open the office door. She had taken a message from his office and handed Stern the slip. He did not bother examining it now. He was in a courtrom mode, playing for appearance, knowing his behavior would be carefully recounted. He looked her up and down, just like that, an entire once-over, which she took in almost innocently, with the same uncertain smile, the same unruffled bland beauty.

Then he showed himseft out, having decided, with liona's videotape well in mind, that the young woman belonged to that small class of human beings who look worse with their clothes on.

CLAUDIA called--URONT," read the pink message slip the nurse had handed him. He reached her on the car phone, driving back to the office. "They got you," said Claudia.

"I have something somewhat pressing of my own. Please find the number at Dr. and Mrs. Cawley's home and patch me through." They were on the line together while it rang a number of times; Fiona was not in. Stern sworeold wordsin Spanish.

"Did they give you the message about Ms. Klonsky?"

"Klonsky?"

"That's yehat's urgent. She's called here three times in the last hour.

She says she has to see you today. Personal business. I wasn't sure where you were going from there, but she said she'd go to Your house and wait for you. I gave her the address. Is that all right?"

It was nearly six now. Stern slammed on the brakes and jerked the car to the curb. His hands were shaking. He was already turning around.

"Hello? asked Claudia.

"Yes, yes. How long are you them tonight, Claudia?" Another few hours, she answered, working on a brief for Raphael.

Stern asked her to try Mrs. Cawley every fifteen minutes and to give her this message: Mr. Stern apologized for not reaching her directly, but he was unavailable and thought it important that she know Dr. Cawley and he had met this afternoon and had a very thorough and candid discussion.

"And then tell her," said Stern, "that I want to know, with all respect, if she has lost her mind. You must repeat it just so."

Claudia was mumbling and laughing as she made notes; she always enjoyed Stern, He put down the phone then and shot off through the traffic. The auto clock said 6:02. Urgent arid personal.

Yes! He was flying.

The yellow Volkswagen was in the circular drive of Stern's home. He could see it as he approached, driving too fast down the block. It was an instant before he picked out Sonny. She sat on the slate front steps, her legs spread to make way for her belly, and her face turned to the sun-Ms. Natural, as she had called herself last month. Stern did not bother putting the car in the garage. Instead, he parked behind her and hiked up the drive, exhilarated and self-conscious.

Here he was, he thought, at one of those signal moments in life which come upon you, part of the infinite progression, just like other moments, but with the chance for enormous change. There had been a great deal of that for him lately -but he was prepared. He had probably not felt a thing like this in over thirty years, yet he recognized itat once. A certain border terrain had been crossed, and they waited on the edges of real intimacy-not just social interaction or an exchange of views, but penetration of the most fixed personal boundaries. And here, awaiting that final passage, he felt the full complexity, mystery of her persona. Oh, he knew nothing about the kinds of things that had made her.

They came from different ends of the earth, different eras.

It would be years before he recognized the imprint of her experience upon her, every layer, like the accumulating pages of a book. But his heart rose to the assignment; and he was confident that the required energy still resided within him. Every corny fatigued metaphor seemed apropos. He was drunk with the prospect, dizzy.

"What an unexpected pleasure," he said, beaming, as she awkwardly stood, brushing the soil from her seat and blinking off the sun.

He had actually opened. his arms to embrace her, when he caught her look, pointed and intense, which stopped him cold; he knew at once that he had blundered. From somewhere she had produced a.white envelope and she raised it at arm's length, as if to warn him, or even, perhaps, to fend him off.