Jodie Picoult - Plain Truth

“Goddamn!” she yelped, jumping out of the way, then surveying the brown stains on her light hose. “Oh, great.”

Coop sat down on a metal bridge chair. “When I was a kid my grandma used to try to make accidents happen. Knock over bottles of milk on purpose, trip over her own feet, splash her blouse with water.”

Blotting at her ankles, Ellie said, “No wonder you went into mental health.”

“Makes perfect sense, actually, provided you’re superstitious. If she had something important to do, she wanted to get the mishap out of the way. Then she’d be free and clear for the rest of the day.”

“You do know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Are you so sure?” Coop crossed his legs. “Wouldn’t it be nice to know that now since this has happened, you can walk into that courtroom and do no wrong?”

Ellie sank down beside him and sighed. “Do you know that she’s shaking?” Folding the soiled napkin in half and then in half again, she set it down on the floor beside her chair. “I can feel her trembling next to me, like she’s a tuning fork.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie said. “I’m afraid that bringing it up might terrify her more.”

“Psychologically speaking-”

“But we’re not, Coop. We’re speaking legally. And the most important thing is to get her through this trial without her coming apart at the seams.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“I haven’t done anything at all!”

“Ah, now I get it. If Katie’s this nervous just listening to testimony, what’s she going to be like when you get her up as a witness?” He rubbed Ellie’s back gently. “You must have faced skittish clients before.”

“Sure.”

“You-” Coop broke off as another attorney entered the room, nodded, and stuffed a set of quarters into the coffee vending machine. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s not toilet trained.”

Beside him, Ellie swallowed the bubble of a laugh. The attorney kicked the defective machine, cursed beneath his breath, and walked upstairs again. Ellie smiled up at Coop. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“How about this?” Coop asked, leaning forward to kiss her.

“You don’t want to kiss me.” Ellie held him at arm’s length. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

His eyes drifted shut. “I’m in a gambling mood.”

“Oh, there you are.”

At Leda’s voice, Ellie and Coop jerked away from each other. Standing on the staircase was Ellie’s aunt, with Katie in tow. “I told her you were coming right back,” Leda said, “but she wasn’t having any of it.”

Katie walked down the last few steps to stand in front of Ellie. “I need to go home now.”

“Soon, Katie. Just hang on a little longer.”

“We need to be back for the afternoon milking, and if we leave now, we’ll be able to do it. My Dat can’t manage with Levi alone.”

“We’re required to stay in court until it’s adjourned,” Ellie explained.

“Hey, Katie,” Coop interjected, “why don’t you and I go somewhere and talk for a few minutes?” He cast Ellie a sidelong glance, urging her to be compassionate.

Even at a distance, it was possible to see the tremors that ran through Katie. She ignored Coop, staring directly at Ellie instead. “Can’t you make court adjourn?”

“That’s up to the judge.” Ellie set her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you, and I-where are you going?”

“To talk to the judge. To ask her to adjourn,” Katie said stubbornly. “I can’t miss my chores.”

“You can’t just go talk to the judge. It’s not done.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it.”

“Get the judge angry,” Ellie warned, “and you’ll be missing your chores forever.”

Katie rounded on her. “Then you ask.”

“This is a new one for me, counselor,” Judge Ledbetter said. She leaned over her desk, frowning. “You’re requesting that we wrap up early today so that your client can do her chores?”

Ellie straightened her spine, her expression impassive. “Actually, Your Honor, I’m requesting that we adjourn at three P.M. every day this trial goes on.” Gritting her teeth, she added, “Believe me, Judge. If this were not germane to my client’s way of life, I wouldn’t be suggesting it.”

“Court adjourns at four-thirty, Ms. Hathaway.”

“I’m aware of that. I explained as much to my client.”

“I’m just dying to know what she had to say.”

“That the cows wouldn’t wait till then.” Ellie risked a glance toward George, who was grinning like the cat who’d eaten the canary. And why shouldn’t he be? Ellie was doing a splendid job digging her own grave without a single syllable’s contribution from him. “At issue, Your Honor, is the fact that in addition to my client, one of the sequestered witnesses is also a hired hand on the Fisher farm. For both of them to miss the afternoon milking would put undue strain on the economic affairs of the family.”

Judge Ledbetter turned toward the prosecutor. “Mr. Callahan, I assume you have something to say about this.”

“Yes, Your Honor. From what I understand the Amish don’t abide by daylight saving time. It’s one thing to run their own schedules when it doesn’t affect anyone else, but in a court of law they ought to be required to adhere to our clock. For all I know, this is some plot of Ms. Hathaway’s to point out the glaring differences between the Amish and the rest of the world.”

“It’s not a plot, George,” Ellie muttered. “It’s just lactation, pure and simple.”

“Furthermore,” the prosecutor continued, “I have one witness remaining to be questioned, and postponing his testimony would be detrimental to my case. Since it’s Friday, the jury wouldn’t be able to hear it until Monday morning, and by then any momentum that’s been building would be lost.”

“At the risk of being presumptuous, Your Honor, may I point out that in many trials I’ve participated in, schedules have been reworked at the last minute according to the whims of child care, doctor’s visits, and other emergencies that come up in the lives of the attorneys and even judges? Why not bend the rules for the defendant as well?”

“Oh, she’s done a fine job of that by herself,” George said dryly.

“Pipe down, you two,” Judge Ledbetter said. “As tempting as it is to get out of here before Friday-night traffic settles in, I’m going to deny your request, Ms. Hathaway, at least for as long as it takes the prosecution to present their case. When it’s your turn, you’re welcome to adjourn court at three P.M. if it suits you.” She turned to George. “Mr. Callahan, you may call your witness.”

“Imagine that you’re a young girl,” said Dr. Brian Riordan, the forensic psychiatric expert for the state. “You find yourself involved in an illicit relationship with a boy your parents know nothing about. You sleep with the boy, although you know better. A few weeks later, you find out you’re pregnant. You go about your daily routine, even though you’re a little more tired these days. You think the problem will take care of itself. Every time the thought crosses your mind, you shove it aside, promising you’ll deal with it tomorrow. In the meantime, you wear clothes that are a little looser; you make sure that no one embraces you too closely.

“Then one night you wake up in severe pain. You know what is happening to you, but all you care about is keeping your secret. You sneak out of the house so no one can hear you giving birth. In solitude, in silence, you deliver a baby that means nothing to you. Then the baby begins to cry. You cover its mouth with your hand, because it is going to wake everyone up. You press harder until the baby stops crying, until it is no longer moving. Then, knowing you have to get rid of it, you wrap it up in a nearby shirt and stuff it somewhere out of sight. You’re exhausted, so you go up to your bedroom to sleep, telling yourself you’ll deal with the rest tomorrow. When the police approach you the next day asking about a baby, you say you know nothing about it, just like you’ve been telling yourself all along.”