Julia Watts - Wedding Bell Blues

When she looked up, she saw Buzz standing before the judge in a suit that looked as if it had been slept in last night and then used as a napkin this morning.

“Your Honor,” Buzz began, “I wanna tell you a little about my client, Lily McGilly. Mrs. McGilly is an award-winning author and illustrator of several books for children. In her hometown of Atlanta, she did a great deal of volunteer work for organizations that helped women and children. She has volunteered to teach art classes for after-school programs for underprivileged youth and has helped prepare food in soup kitchens that feed hungry children and their parents. Mrs. McGilly’s love for children is so strong that when her friend Charlotte Maycomb made up her will, she knew that Mrs. McGilly would be the best person to care for her baby girl.

“And when Lily Fox married my other client, Mr. Benny Jack McGilly, whom we believe to be Mimi Maycomb’s biological father, they entered into marriage in the spirit of creating a stable, loving family for Mimi to grow up in. Through the testimony of members of the McGilly family, I intend to show that Mr. and Mrs. Benny Jack McGilly have created a stable, loving family. Charlotte Maycomb’s wishes should be respected.”

“Is that all?” Judge Sanders asked.

“Yes, Your Honor, that’ll do it,” Buzz said, returning to his seat.

Lily had serious doubts that Buzz’s opening remarks would “do it.” Not only were they brief compared to Hamilton’s, they lacked Hamilton’s sense of theater. Also, while Hamilton’s entire argument was built on the perceived evils of homosexuality, Buzz didn’t even touch on the gay issue.

Lily looked at Ben, whose face was an unreadable mask. He might still be under the impression that the McGilly family name would get them out of this mess, but Lily thought differently. Things looked bad.

Hamilton’s questioning of the Maycombs only made it worse. When Ida Maycomb took the stand, Hamilton spoke to her in soft, gentlemanly tones. “Mrs. Maycomb, I know this is a difficult subject for you, but I want you to recount for us a conversation your daughter had with you six years ago, after she had met Mrs. McGilly.”

Ida Maycomb was the very image of the tragic, martyred mother. On some level, Lily was sure, she was enjoying her role in this drama. “She called me up one day and said there was something she had to tell me. . . and it had to be in person. So she invited me to lunch the next day. Of course, I was dying to know what it was she had to tell me. I thought to myself, maybe she’s finally found a man who’s agreed to marry her.” She shook her head sadly. “But of course, that wasn’t it.”

Ida looked down and cleared her throat. “I went to her apartment for lunch. I remember she’d made a tuna salad that had too much celery seed in it. Charlotte never was much of a cook —”

“Mrs. Maycomb,” Judge Sanders interrupted, “in the interest of our getting to have some lunch today, could you please stick to the topic at hand?”

“I’m sorry, your honor. It’s just that it’s so difficult ...” She began to sniffle. Hamilton pulled a small packet of Kleenex from his jacket pocket. She took one and dabbed at her eyes. Lily wondered how many times they’d rehearsed that little exchange. “Continue when you’re ready, Mrs. Maycomb,” Hamilton said soothingly.

Ida took a deep breath and continued. “We sat down to lunch. Charlotte was just playing with her food, not really eating, and she said there was something she’d been meaning to tell me for a long time, but she had just kept putting it off. Now, she said, she couldn’t put it off any longer. ’ Mama,’ she said to me, ‘I’m. . . I’m a. . . lesbian.’ “ Ida said the word lesbian as though she was sounding it out from a dictionary’s pronunciation key. She wiped away another tear.

“And why,” Hamilton asked, “was it that your daughter felt that after all this time she had to tell you about her homosexuality?”

Ida looked at him with wet eyes. “She said she had fallen in love ... that was how she put it, just like it was a normal thing to do. She said she’d been seeing this woman, and they had decided to settle down and make a life together.”

“And who was this woman?”

Ida nodded toward Lily. “That’s her, right over there.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Maycomb. I know this is difficult for you. I just have one more question. A little over three years after the conversation you just discussed, Charlotte told you she was pregnant—that she had been artificially inseminated and that she and Lily were going to raise a child together. What was your reaction when she told you this?”

“Well, naturally, it just broke my heart,” Ida said. “When you’ve got two adults who are sinning together, there’s not much you can do about it. You can pray for ’em, and you can try to bring ’em to the Lord, but they’re adults, so they’re gonna do what they wanna do. But to bring a child into that sinful environment . . . like I said, the thought of it just broke my heart. That’s why we want to raise Mimi ourselves...there’s some things a small child shouldn’t be exposed to.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Maycomb. No further questions.” Judge Sanders nodded toward the table where Lily was sitting. “Mr. Dobson?”

Buzz rose and smiled at Ida. “I won’t take up much of your time, Mrs. Maycomb.” He was polite to the point of deference. Lily had to give old Buzz some credit for this tactic — in a small Southern town, you weren’t going to win any points by being mean to somebody’s mama. “Could you tell us, please ma’am, what your daughter did for a living?”

Ida looked puzzled. “She taught at Atlanta State.”

“Yes.” Buzz glanced at his notes. “At the time of her death, she was a tenured associate professor of English, was she not?”

“Uh, I think so.” Ida’s hesitation didn’t surprise Lily. Ida had never taken much of an interest in Charlotte’s career. “But I don’t see what that has to do with the case.”

“Well, the way I see it, Charlotte’s achievements have quite a bit to do with the case. If she became a tenured associate professor at such a young age, it must have meant her colleagues thought she did a good job. And she must have. Her teaching evaluations were high. She published numerous articles and coauthored one published book. It seems to me that Charlotte’s career is somethin’ a mother could really be proud of.”

Ida was clearly baffled about where Buzz’s line of argument was heading. “Well, Charlotte always was...book-smart.”

“It sounds like she was. And the reason I’m bringing this up is because, by giving her tenure, by promoting her to the rank of associate professor, her colleagues were saying that Charlotte was of sound mind...that she knew what she was doing, that she was capable of making decisions. And if she was of sound mind to make decisions at work, it seems like she’d also be of sound mind to make up her own will to decide who should get custody of her child in the event of her death. What do you think, Mrs.