Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

Goode smiled. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“But in return, I want to examine whether Southern Valley is an appropriate party to acquire her land.”

Goode looked astonished. “Lord, they’re one of the most substantial companies in the state.”

Cotton said, “I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about morals.”

“Your Honor,” Goode said indignantly.

“Approach the bench,” said Atkins.

Cotton and Goode hurried forward.

Cotton said, “Judge, there is a long line of Virginia case law that clearly holds that one who commits a wrong shall be barred from profiting from same.”

“This is nonsense,” said Goode.

Cotton drew close to his adversary. “If you don’t agree to let me do it, Goode, I’ve got my own expert who will contradict everything Dr. Ross has said. And if I lose here, I’ll appeal. All the way to the Supreme Court if need be. By the time your client gets to that gas, rest assured, we’ll all be dead.”

“But I’m a lawyer for the Commonwealth. I have no authority to represent a private company.”

“A more ironic statement I have never heard,” said Cotton. “But I waive any objection and agree to be bound by the decision of this jury, even with the sorry likes of George Davis sitting on it.” Goode was looking toward Miller for a cue, so Cotton gave him a shove. “Oh, Goode, go over there and talk to your client and stop wasting time.”

With a sheepish look, Goode slipped over and had a heated discussion with Miller, who looked over repeatedly at Cotton. He finally nodded, and Goode came back.

“No objection.”

The judge nodded. “Go ahead, Cotton.”

Lou had ridden down to the hospital in the Hudson with Eugene while Oz had stayed behind. He had said he wanted nothing more to do with courts and the law. Buford Rose’s wife had come over to look after Oz and his mother. Lou sat in the chair staring at Louisa, waiting for her miracle to take effect. The room was cold and sterile, and it did not seem conducive to anybody’s getting well, but Lou was not counting on medicine to make the woman better. Her hopes lay with a stack of old bricks in a grassy meadow and a bundle of letters that might very well be the last words of her mother she would ever have.

Lou rose and drifted to the window. She could see the movie theater from here, where The Wizard of Oz was still enjoying a long run. However, Lou had lost her dear Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion was no longer afraid. And the Tin Man? Had she finally found her heart? Maybe she had never lost it.

Lou turned and looked at her great-grandmother. The girl stiffened when Louisa opened her eyes and looked at her. There was a strong sense of recognition, a suspicion of a tender smile, and Lou’s hopes soared. As though not only their names, but also their spirits, were identical, a tear trickled down the two Louisas’ cheeks. Lou went to her, slipped her hand around Louisa’s, and kissed it.

“I love you, Louisa,” she said, her heart so near to breaking, for she could not recall saying those words before. Louisa’s lips moved, and though Lou could not hear the words, she clearly saw on her lips what the woman was saying back: I love you, Louisa .

And then Louisa’s eyes slowly closed and did not reopen, and Lou wondered if that was to be all of her miracle.

“Miss Lou, they want us down to the courthouse.”

She turned and saw a wide-eyed Eugene standing in the doorway. “Mr. Cotton want us both get on the stand.”

Lou slowly let go of Louisa’s hand, turned, and left.

A minute later Louisa’s eyes opened once more. She looked around the room. Her expression was fearful for a moment, but then grew calm. She started pushing herself up, confused at first as to why her left side was not cooperating. She kept her gaze on the window of the room, even as she fought hard to move herself. Inch by precious inch she progressed, until she was half-sitting, her eyes still on that window. Louisa was breathing heavily now, her strength and energy nearly gone after this short struggle. Yet she lay back against her pillow and smiled. For outside the large window her mountain was now boldly visible. The sight was so beautiful to the woman, although winter had taken most of its color. Next year, though, it would surely all return. Like it always did. Family that never really left you. That was what the mountain was. And her eyes remained fixed on the familiar rise of rock and trees, even as Louisa Mae Cardinal grew very still.

In the courtroom, Cotton stood before the bench and announced in a strong voice, “I call Miss Louisa Mae Cardinal.”

A gasp went up from the crowd. And then the door opened and Lou and Eugene came in. Miller and Goode looked smug once more as they saw it was only the child. Eugene sat while Lou went up to the witness chair.

Fred approached. “Raise your right hand, put your left on the Bible. You swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do,” she said quietly, looking around at everyone staring at her. Cotton smiled reassuringly. Out of sight of anyone, he showed her that his fingers were crossed for luck too.

“Now, Lou, what I have to ask you is going to be painful, but I need you to answer my questions. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, on the day Jimmy Skinner was killed, you were with him, right?”

Miller and Goode exchanged troubled glances. Goode got to his feet.

“Your Honor, what does this have to do with anything?”

“The Commonwealth agreed to let me explore my theory,” said Cotton.

“All right,” said the judge. “But don’t take all day.”

Cotton turned back to Lou. “You were at the mine entrance when the explosion occurred?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe for us what happened?”

Lou swallowed, her eyes becoming watery.

“Eugene set the dynamite and came out. We were just going to wait for it to go off. Diamond—I mean, Jimmy—ran into the mine to get Jeb, his dog, who had chased a squirrel in there. Eugene went in to get Jimmy. I was standing in front of the entrance when the dynamite went off.”

“Was it a loud explosion?”

“Loudest thing I’ve heard in my life.”

“Could you say whether you heard two explosions?”

She looked confused. “No, I can’t.”

“Likely as not. Then what happened?”

“Well, this big rush of air and smoke came out and knocked me down.”

“Must’ve been some force.”

“It was. It truly was.”

“Thank you, Lou. No further questions.”

“Mr. Goode?” said Atkins.

“No questions, Your Honor. Unlike Mr. Longfellow, I’m not going to waste the jury’s valuable time with this nonsense.”

“I next call Eugene Randall,” said Cotton.

A nervous Eugene was on the stand. The hat Lou had given him was clutched tightly in his hands.

“Now, Eugene, you went to the mine the day Jimmy Skinner was killed to get some coal, correct?”

“Yes, suh.”

“You use dynamite to get the coal out?”

“Yep, most folks do. Coal make good heat. Lot better’n wood.”

“How many times you reckon you’ve used dynamite in that mine?”

Eugene thought about this. “Over the years, thirty times or mo’.”

“I think that makes you an expert.”

Eugene smiled at this designation. “I reckon so.”

“How exactly do you go about using the dynamite?”

“Well, I put the stick’a dynamite in a hole in the wall, cap it, roll out my fuse, and light the fuse with the flame from my lantern.”

“Then what do you do?”

“That shaft curves in a couple places, so’s I sometimes wait round the curve if I ain’t using much dynamite. Sometime I go outside. Noise’s starting to hurt my ears now. And blast kick the coal dust up bad.”