Jodie Picoult - Plain Truth

It was milking time; Jacob had planned it that way. He walked into the central aisle of the barn. Levi was shoveling manure into a wheelbarrow, looking none too pleased about it. Samuel stood down at the far end, waiting for the feed to funnel down the chute from the silo. Elam and Aaron moved between the animals in tandem, checking the pumps and wiping down the teats of the next cow in line.

It was Elam who saw him first. Straightening slowly, the old man stared at Jacob and gradually smiled. Jacob nodded, then reached down into the bucket his grandfather held and ripped out a leaf of the old Yellow Pages. He took the spray bottle from Elam’s hand to sanitize an udder just as his father came around the broad behind of the cow.

Aaron started. His shoulders tensed; the powerful muscles in his forearms locked up. Samuel and Levi watched the scene in silence; it even seemed that the cows had quieted, waiting to see what would happen.

Elam placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Es ist nix,” he said. It’s nothing.

Without saying a word, Jacob bent down and resumed his task. His palms slipped along the soft underskin of the cow. A moment later, he felt his father at his shoulder. The hands that had taught him how to do most everything gently pushed his out of the way, so that the milk pump could be attached.

Jacob stood up, toe to toe with his father. Aaron nodded slowly toward the next cow. “Well,” he said in English. “I’m waiting.”

George mounted the steps of the Fishers’ front porch, unsure of what to expect. In a way, he’d figured a people so close to God would have managed to get lightning to strike him the minute he got out of his car, but so far so good. He straightened his jacket and tie and knocked firmly.

The defendant answered the door. Her friendly smile faltered, then completely withered. “Yes?”

“I’m, uh, here to see Ellie.”

Katie crossed her arms. “She’s not taking visitors just now.”

From behind her, a voice yelled out, “That’s not true! I’ll take anyone. If it’s the UPS man, send him in!”

George raised his brows, and Katie pushed open the screen door to admit him. He followed her through a house that looked surprisingly like his own. In the living room, Ellie lay on a couch with an afghan tossed over her legs.

“Well,” he said. “You look completely different in your pajamas. Softer.”

Ellie laughed. “That’s why I rarely wear them during litigation. Is this a social visit?”

“Not exactly.” George looked pointedly at Katie. She glanced at Ellie, and then went into another room. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

“What a surprise,” Ellie said dryly. “Has the jury got you running scared?”

“Why, no. In fact, I figured you’re the one who’s panicking, and I’m feeling chivalrous at the moment.”

“You’re a regular Lancelot, George. All right, let’s hear it.”

“She pleads guilty,” George said. “We agree to four to seven years.”

“Not a chance.” Ellie bristled, but then thought of Katie, by the pond. “I’ll consider a nolo, and I’ll take two to four as a capped plea, if you let me argue for less.”

George turned away, looking out the window. More than anything else, he wanted to win this case-it was what would buoy him through the next election. He had no grand desire to make Katie Fisher rot away in jail forever; and from what Lizzie had told him, he didn’t think that would sit well with the community, either. With a nolo contendere, as Ellie was suggesting, a defendant didn’t admit guilt, but still accepted a conviction. Basically, it meant saying that you didn’t do it, but you understood that there was enough evidence to condemn you, so you accepted that verdict.

For Katie, it meant saving face and accepting punishment at the same time.

For Ellie, it meant erasing her client’s unexpected courtroom confession from the record.

For George, it was still a guilty verdict.

He walked toward Ellie again. “I need to think about it. If she does get convicted, she could be looking at a hell of a lot of time.”

“If, George. The jury’s been out for five days. If they come back for us, Katie gets nada. As in not a thing.”

He crossed his arms. “Nolo. Three to six, capped.”

“Two and a half to five, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” She smiled. “Of course, I’ll have to run it by my client.”

“Get back to me.” George started out of the living room, pausing at the threshold of the doorway. “Hey, Ellie,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about what happened.”

She fisted the afghan in her hands. “Well, it’s all going to be fine now.”

“Yeah.” George nodded slowly. “I think it is.”

Katie sat outside the judge’s chambers, running her fingers over the smooth seams of the wooden bench. She’d flatten her palm against a spot, buff it with her apron, and then do it all over again. Although being here today was considerably less upsetting than being here for the trial, she was still counting the minutes until she could leave.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Katie glanced up as Adam sat down beside her. “Jacob told me about the plea.”

“Yes. And now it will be finished,” she said quietly, and both of them weighed the words, turned them over like stones, and set them down again.

“I’m going back to Scotland.” He hesitated. “Katie, you could-”

“No, Adam.” She shook her head, interrupting him. “I couldn’t.”

Adam swallowed, nodded. “I guess I knew that all along.” He touched the curve of her cheek. “But I also know that these past months, you’ve been there with me.” When Katie looked up, puzzled, he continued. “I find you, sometimes, at the foot of my bed, when I wake up. Or I notice your profile in the moorings of a castle wall. Sometimes, when the wind’s right, it’s like you’re calling my name.” He took her hand, traced the outline of her fingers. “I see you more clearly than I’ve ever seen any ghost.”

He lifted her palm, kissed the center, and closed her fingers around it. Then he pressed the fist tight to her belly. “Remember me,” Adam said thickly; and for the second time in Katie’s life, he left her behind.

“I’m glad to hear that you’ve come to an agreement,” Judge Ledbetter said. “Now let’s talk about time.”

George leaned forward. “We agreed to a capped plea, Your Honor, two and a half to five years. But I think it’s important to remember that whatever decision is reached here is going to send a message to society about neonaticide.”

“We agreed to a nolo,” Ellie specified. “My client is not admitting to this crime. She has repeatedly stated that she doesn’t know what happened that night, but for various reasons she’s willing to accept a guilty verdict. However, we’re not talking about a hardened felon. Katie has a commitment to the community, and she’s not going to be a repeat offender. She shouldn’t do a day of time, not even an hour. Sentencing her to a correctional facility sends the message that she’s like any common criminal, when you can’t even come close to comparing the two.”

“Something tells me, Ms. Hathaway, that you have a solution in mind.”

“I do. I think Katie’s a perfect candidate for the electronic monitoring program.”

Judge Ledbetter took off her half glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Mr. Callahan, we set an example for society by taking this case to trial and putting it in front of the press. I see no reason to shame the Amish community any more than the media attention already has, by sending one of their own into Muncy. The defendant will serve time-but in private. Which somehow seems like a little bit of poetic justice.” She scrawled her signature across the papers in front of her. “I’m sentencing Ms. Fisher to a year on the bracelet,” Judge Ledbetter said. “Case closed.”