Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

“Now, Mr. Oscar Cardinal,” he began.

“My name’s Oz, my sister’s name is Lou. Don’t call her Louisa Mae or else she’ll get mad and punch you.”

Goode smiled. “Now, don’t you worry about that. Oz and Lou it is.” He leaned against the witness stand. “Now, you know the court’s right sorry to hear that your momma’s doing so poorly.”

“She’s going to get better.”

“Is that right? That what the doctors say?”

Oz looked up at Lou until Goode touched Oz’s cheek and pointed his face toward him.

“Now, son, up here on the witness stand you got to speak the truth. You can’t look to your big sister for answers. You swore to God to tell the truth.”

“I always tell the truth. Cross my heart, stick a needle.”

“Good boy. So, again, did the doctors say your mother will get better?”

“No. They said they weren’t sure.”

“So how do you know she will?”

“Because . . . because I made a wish. At the wishing well.”

“Wishing well?” said Goode with an expression for the jury that clearly spelled out what he thought of that answer. “There’s a wishing well round here? I wish we had one of them back in Richmond.”

The crowd laughed and Oz’s face turned pink and he squirmed in his seat. “There is a wishing well,” he said. “My friend Diamond Skinner told us about it. You make a wish and give up the most important thing you have and your wish will come true.”

“Sounds mighty fine. Now, you said you made your wish?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you gave up the most important thing you had. What was that?” Oz looked nervously around the room. “The truth, Oz. Remember what you promised to God, son.”

Oz took a long breath. “My bear. I gave up my bear.”

There were a few muffled chuckles from the onlookers, until all saw the single tear slide down the little boy’s face, and then the snickers ceased.

“Has your wish come true yet?” asked Goode.

Oz shook his head. “No.”

“Been a while since you wished?”

“Yes,” Oz answered softly.

“And your momma’s still real sick, isn’t she?”

Oz bowed his head. “Yes,” he said in a tiny voice.

Goode put his hands in his pockets. “Well, sad fact is, son, things don’t come true just ’cause we wish ’em to. That’s not real life. Now, you know your great-grandmother’s real sick, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You make a wish for her too?”

Cotton rose. “Goode, leave it be.”

“Fine, fine. Now, Oz, you know you can’t live by yourself, right? If your great-grandma doesn’t get better, under the law, you have to go live with an adult in their home. Or else go to an orphanage. Now, you don’t want to go to no old orphanage, do you?”

Cotton jumped to his feet again. “Orphanage? When did that become an issue?”

Goode said, “Well, if Miss Cardinal does not make another miraculous recovery as she did with rattlers and pneumonia, then the children are going to have to go somewhere. Now, unless they’ve got some money I don’t know about, they’re going to an orphanage, because that’s where children go who don’t have blood relatives to take care of them, or other persons of a worthy nature willing to adopt them.”

“They can come live with me,” said Cotton.

Goode looked about ready to laugh. “You? An unmarried man? A lawyer in a town that’s dying? You’d be the last person on earth a court would award those children to.” Goode turned back to Oz. “Now, wouldn’t you like to go live in your own home with someone who has your best interests at heart? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Course you would. Orphanages are not the nicest places in the world. Some kids stay there forever.”

“Your Honor,” said Cotton, “does all this have a point other than to terrify the witness?”

“Why, I was just about to ask Mr. Goode that,” declared Atkins.

It was Oz, though, who spoke. “Can Lou come too? I mean, not to the orphanage, but to the other place?”

“Why sure, son, sure,” said Goode quickly. “Never break up sister and brother.” He added quietly, “But there’s no guarantee of that with an orphanage.” He paused. “So, that’d be all right with you, Oz?”

Oz hesitated and tried to look at Lou, but Goode was too quick and blocked his view. Oz finally said quietly, “I guess so.”

Cotton looked up in the balcony. Lou was on her feet, fingers wrapped around the railing, her anxious gaze fixed on her brother.

Goode went over to the jury and made a show of rubbing his eyes. “That’s a fine boy. No further questions.”

“Cotton?” said Atkins.

Goode sat down and Cotton rose, but then he stopped, his fingers gripping the table’s edge as he stared at the ruin of a boy on the big witness chair; a little boy who, Cotton knew, just wanted to get up and go back to his sister because he was scared to death of orphanages and fat lawyers with big words and embarrassing questions, and huge rooms filled with strangers staring at him.

“No questions,” said Cotton very quietly, and Oz fled back to his sister.

After more witnesses had paraded through court, showing that Louisa was utterly incapable of conscious decision, and Cotton only able to slap at bits and pieces of their testimony, the trial was adjourned for the day and Cotton and the children left the courtroom. Outside, Goode and Miller stopped them.

“You’re putting up a good fight, Mr. Longfellow,” said Goode, “but we all know how this is going to turn out. What say we just put an end to it right now? Save people any further embarrassment.” He looked at Lou and Oz as he said this. He started to pat Oz on the head, but the boy gave the lawyer a fierce look that made Goode pull back his hand before he might have lost it.

“Look, Longfellow,” said Miller, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, “I’ve got a check here for half a million dollars. All you got to do is end this nonsense and it’s yours.”

Cotton looked at Oz and Lou and then said, “I tell you what, Miller, I’ll leave it up to the children. Whatever they say, I’ll do.”

Miller squatted down and smiled at Lou and Oz. “This money will go to you now. Buy anything you want. Live in a big house with a fancy car and people paid to look after you. A right nice life. What do you say, children?”

“We already have a home,” said Lou.

“Okay, what about your momma then? People in her condition need a lot of care, and it’s not cheap.” He dangled the check in front of the girl. “This solves all your problems, missy.”

Goode squatted down too and looked at Oz. “And it’ll keep those nasty orphanages far, far away. You want to stay with your sister, now don’t you?”

“You keep your old money,” said Oz, “for it’s not something we need or want. And Lou and I will always be together. Orphanage or not!”

Oz took his sister’s hand and they walked off.

Cotton looked at the men as they rose, and Miller angrily stuffed the check back in his pocket. “From out of the mouths of babes,” said Cotton. “We should all be so wise.” And then he walked off too.

Back at the farmhouse, Cotton discussed the case with Lou and Oz. “I’m afraid unless Louisa can walk into that courtroom tomorrow, she’s going to lose her land.” He looked at them both. “But I want you to know that whatever happens, I will be there for all of you. I will take care of all of you. Don’t you worry about that. You will never go to an orphanage. And you will never be split up. That I swear.” Lou and Oz hugged Cotton as tightly as they could, and then he left to prepare for the final day in court. Perhaps their final day on this mountain.