Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

As he cleaned the tables he thought about the tall, dark-haired girl who wasn't a real lawyer. She looked familiar. That's why he asked if she lived in Savannah. Moses knew a lot of people by face if not by name. He'd met hundreds of people when he worked for Tommy Lee Barnes as a bolita runner and could remember faces for years and years.

A bolita runner collected money from the players of the simple betting game and handed out slips of paper that served as proof of the numbers chosen. Beginning early in the morning, Moses went all over the city calling on regular players and trying to attract new ones. At precisely 6:00 p.m., five winning numbers between 1 and 100 were announced by randomly selecting five numbered Ping-Pong balls from a large bag. Prior to the drawing, Moses and one of the other runners tabulated the most popular numbers of the day, and Tommy Lee would remove those numbers from the sack to avoid a big loss.

Tommy Lee made the daily drawing exciting. He had a preacher's voice and always asked a pretty girl to stick her hand in the bag and draw out the Ping-Pong balls. Runners notified winners the following day and delivered their winnings. Moses liked counting out the greasy dollar bills to a winner. Even with payouts, Tommy Lee would make a couple of hundred dollars a day. Each Friday, Moses would take envelopes of cash to the police officers who let the game operate. Mr. Floyd, Tommy Lee's boss, paid the mayor's office directly.

The tall girl who wasn't a real lawyer reminded Moses of a girl he'd known during the time he worked for Tommy Lee Barnes. She didn't play bolita, but the old woman who owned the big house where the girl lived guessed ten numbers every Wednesday. When the girl saw Moses on the sidewalk outside the house, she would tell him to go away. Moses would nod respectfully and sneak around the corner where he would wait for the old woman to come out to meet him. If she had a winning number, Moses would pick up the ticket and redeem it for her.

Moses wasn't sure what had happened to the girl. She would be an old woman herself by now. Once or twice, he thought he'd seen her face in the water, but it didn't make sense that she would be there.

BY THE END OF THE FIRST WEEK, I HAD BEGUN TO DOUBT MS. Patrick's promise that a summer clerk job at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter would be more fun than toil. Mr. Carpenter added two more projects to my workload and three more to Julie's stack. She and I worked together on the Folsom case, and I revised her memo on the secured transaction issue, but we had to go our separate ways on the new projects. She worked directly with Mr. Carpenter. I found myself reporting more and more to Robert Kettleson, a senior associate who confidently informed me that he was next in line for partner.

Kettleson, a tall, skinny man, communicated with me via e-mails that he typed at all hours of the day and night. He wanted my responses in writing so there would be no doubt about my opinion. The process bothered me, but I had to admit it forced me to be very careful in my research.

I had no time to work on the Jones case. When I asked Zach about it, he pointed to the files on the corner of his desk and told me justice for indigent defendants like Moses Jones would have to wait another week. At least the old man had food to eat and a roof over his head.

Late Friday afternoon, Julie returned to the library and plopped down on the other side of the table.

"Are you coming to work tomorrow?" she asked. "Please say no because I don't want to be the only clerk who abandons the office to spend a few hours at Tybee Island beach. Why don't you come with me? We're both pale as white bread, but we could lather up with sunscreen and pretend we're from Nova Scotia."

"Nova Scotia?"

"If that's not exotic enough, you can be Norwegian and I'll be Lebanese."

"I don't own a swimsuit."

"You're kidding."

Apparently my face told her the truth.

"Don't worry about it," she continued. "I'll buy one for you and put it on my credit card. You can pay me back when we get our paychecks next week."

"Do your orthodox cousins in New York go to the beach?" I asked.

"Yeah, there are places where they can go and be among the faithful on certain days of the week, but they don't wear-" Julie stopped. "Rabbi, are you that conservative?"

"Yes."

"Wow. You are hard-core."

Her words stung, but I stayed calm. "I have strong convictions about modesty," I replied quietly.

"Okay. Suit yourself, or rather don't if it offends your morals. My parents want me to walk on eggshells around my cousins, which is one reason I don't like to visit them. But I still want to know if you're going to spend the day at the office. If you do, it will make me and Vinny look bad."

"You already talked to Vince?"

"He agreed to take the day off. I didn't say anything to him about the beach, but if it was okay with you, I wanted to invite him to join us. Two girls and one guy would be irresistible odds."

"The two of you can go."

"And steal him from you? He's not my type."

"I'm not sure he's my type."

"What is your type?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't met him."

"Don't be so dense," Julie snapped. "You have to meet men to find out who you're compatible with. I'm trying to help you, but you're not making it easy. You'll never find out the truth about other people or yourself with your nose stuck in a Bible or a prayer book."

"I don't use a prayer book, and I didn't ask for help."

"But you need help. Lots of it. I'm sure glad we're not sharing an apartment. I don't think I could stand your self-righteous attitude 24/7. You're so uptight I'm surprised your eyes open in the morning!"

My uptight eyes suddenly stung with tears I vainly tried to blink away. Most people didn't keep attacking after I made my convictions clear. Julie saw that I was upset and swore.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I quickly wiped my eyes. "Everything you say makes sense except that I believe God controls my future. I can't abandon my confidence in him. To do that would be to deny who I am as a person." I pulled a tissue from my purse and blew my nose. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Julie shrugged. "You fanatic religious types are all alike."

"People judge me because of the things I do and don't do. But I'm not a mixed-up mess of legalistic rules and regulations. I'm a child of God who wants to live in the freedom from sin Jesus provides through his death on the cross."

"Okay, okay," Julie said. "You can step down from your pulpit. My efforts to corrupt you are over for the week."

This time I didn't cry. I pressed my lips tightly together before I spoke. "I guess I'll walk home."

"No need to get hot and sweaty. I'll give you a ride. I said I was sorry."

Partway home, Julie broke the silence. "You've never had a boyfriend?"

"No."

"My Jewish intuition tells me that's about to change."

We reached Mrs. Fairmont's house. Julie stopped the car.

"So, are you going to the office tomorrow?" she asked.

"No. I wouldn't do anything to try to gain an advantage."

"Good. I'll call Vinny. This summer is our last chance to have fun before we have to enter the real world of work."

I opened the door. "If you go to the beach, use plenty of sunblock."

"You won't recognize me on Monday. I may not look Lebanese, but in a couple of days I'll be able to pass for an Israeli."

I COULD HEAR THE TV BLARING when I entered the house. I peeked into the den. The TV might be on, but that didn't mean she was watching it. Mrs. Fairmont's eyes were closed. She tried to maintain a schedule, but I'd learned that even though she went to bed early, her sleep patterns were irregular. Twice when I'd come upstairs to the kitchen in the night, she had been awake watching TV. Flip didn't seem to mind. He matched his sleep schedule to hers. The little dog barked and came over to me for a welcoming scratch behind the ears.