Blame it on Cupid (37 page)

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Nothing. Honestly.”

He didn't want to leave her and go home—and he didn't, for quite a while. But she felt strongly about Charlene not waking up in the morning and finding him there, so eventually he had to hightail it next door. By then, she'd stopped looking so stressed. She didn't relax all the way, didn't fool him that she was really okay. But in the middle of the night, there really didn't seem anything concrete he could do to help her.

But it bugged him, when he left.

He really hadn't done anything for her. Certainly nothing to earn her always treating him like a hero.

Nothing to justify her loving him.

 

A
NYONE WHO WATCHED
TV knew the court system moved slower than a turtle in a coma, yet only two weeks had passed since that miserable meeting with June Innes. Who could imagine the judge would call a hearing this quickly? Merry pawed and repawed through the hangers in her closet—she'd bought an outfit for this, but it wasn't right. Nothing seemed to hit her as right. She told herself she should be happy that reality wasn't like TV. The court system should cater to kids, should resolve things related to kids as quick as it possibly could.

It was just…something was wrong with her.

She seemed to be calm, instead of having an anxiety attack and gasping around like a beached guppy. It wasn't natural. Of course, she still had several hours for a panic attack to emerge. It was only ten. She had a full two hours to get dressed before picking up Charlene from school and driving to the courthouse.

She plucked through hangers one last time, but dag-nabbit, no matronly clothes and sedate shoes appeared.

How scary was that? She was going to have to go as herself.

Scarier yet, she even kind of liked the idea. Totally unlike herself, she managed to dress in less than five minutes, pulling on a dark purple flannel skirt, boots and a thick white hand-knit sweater. She was just messing with her hair when the phone rang. It was her dad.

“I knew you'd call,” she said warmly. “No, I'm fine, Dad. Seriously fine. Of course I'm worried about the outcome, but at this point, it's almost like waiting for a root canal. I just want it over with. And I know it sounds crazy, but I really want my chance to speak up and say what I feel to the judge….”

She picked out earrings and swooshed on a little blush. Lipstick turned into a problem. The tubes of gloss and stain and stick all seemed to reproduce at night; she must have a good two dozen, but no color ever seemed to be exactly right for purple.

“No, Dad, Charlene's birth mother will be in another room entirely. It's two separate things. My guardianship is one issue, whether Charlene's mother gets visitation rights—or any other rights—is another. From what the attorney researched, she's a real fruitcake, so I have to believe the court will look at the whole history and do the right thing….” Okay, she had to gulp before finishing the sentence. And it could be she really didn't give a damn whether her lipstick matched this morning, but she stuffed three choices of tubes in her purse. “Anyway, all I care about is that Charlie gets what she needs out of this. I'll be fine, promise, Dad. I'll call you tonight. You bet, love you back…”

She hung up, and was just attacking her hair, deciding she'd do a low ponytail, when the phone rang again. This time it was the school nurse, who wanted her to pick up Charlene. Immediately.

That was not an omen, Merry thought, as she ran hell-bent for leather for the car. She could handle anything today. She had to. Because this was about fighting for a little girl who meant the world to her, and damn it, she was going to do it—and do it right.

It was just that there wasn't a lot of spare time built in for extra crises.

Charlene was waiting outside the school, sitting on the cement fence, wrapped in her jacket, her head bowed and her eyes stormier than a cyclone. When Merry drove her to school earlier, she'd looked like a little angel. It was Charlene who'd decided to dress differently that morning, put on jeans, a navy-and-white striped sweater, washed her hair and fluffed it up into a silky little blond nimbus around her face. She still looked as adorable as she had at eight that morning—except for the attitude.

She charged toward the car, hurled open the door and threw her books in the back. “I hate school. I hate my teachers. I hate everybody. And I'm not going back. I'm not going to that stupid hearing, either.”

“Ah,” Merry said. The school nurse had already told her the problem—that Charlene had started her first period. Merry had been startled—cripes, her baby was only eleven! But she'd expected embarrassment and emotion. Not Armageddon. Silent as a mouse, she eased out of the parking lot.

“Merry, for Pete's
sake,
you've lived here two months now! You turn
left!
”

“I wasn't looking,” she admitted.

“It doesn't help when you look! You could get lost in a one-car garage. I think you're darn close to hopeless.”

“Hmm. I'd defend myself but it sure seems pointless.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“You'll feel better if you talk it out—”

“Like I care what you think.”

Merry sucked it in. “Hey. I don't talk to you that way. You don't get to talk to me that way, either.”

“So? I don't want to talk anyway. To anyone. Ever. As long as I live.”

Merry buttoned it. It's not as if she didn't remember having a tantrum or two at that age. There was still ample time before the hearing to get life calmed down—and hearing or no hearing, Charlene obviously needed some space. Possibly that wasn't going to happen too fast, because the minute they were home, Charl stormed out of the car, stormed into the house, and then disappeared into the bathroom with a slammed door.

Merry heard the sound of the shower. Then the shower went off. Several more minutes passed, but the door didn't open.

When the doorknob finally turned and the door cracked open, enough steam poured out to cook vegetables. By then, Merry was deliberately, slowly flipping through an
Allure
magazine in the living room. Right outside the bathroom door, though, she'd left a small bundle. Clean underpants. Fresh jeans and socks and a pink sweater. Girl products, which she'd picked up the first time she noticed the hint of developing breasts.

She didn't look up, but Charlie eventually made a sound in the kitchen.

“You hungry for lunch?” Merry called out. “It's going to be a long afternoon if we don't have something.”

“Maybe,” Charlene said irritably. “I can't believe you put out a
pink
sweater for me.”

“It's a lucky color.”

“For you, maybe.” Slowly, though, all that fury started to fade. Charlene watched her put together lunch. Merry might not do the cook thing well or often, but she could do comfort foods. Scrambled eggs. French toast with fresh blueberries. “When this is all over, Merry…when That Woman is gone and we don't have to do this stupid hearing bullshit ever again…”

Charlene waited, clearly waiting for a correction on her language. When Merry didn't say anything, Charl finished her original thought. “I was kind of wondering if I could have a kitten.”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Really. I'd like one, too.” Merry could feel the climate in the kitchen changing. Maybe the reason she'd managed to stay so calm and sure this week was because Charlene had been
so, so
tight, poor baby. And this morning sure hadn't helped.

Charlene poked at her food for a while, then dove in. As soon as her mouth was good and full, she started talking. “I was in math class. First hour. Suddenly I felt all this wet crap. Dougall is in that class with me, for Pete's sake! I couldn't get out of the chair. Couldn't move. I just wanted to die.”

“Aw, Charl. I'd have felt the same way.”

“I
still
want to just die. Dad told me about it all. But I thought a girl would normally be like thirteen. Not
now.
I'm not even close to twelve, for Pete's sake. This totally sucks!”

“You've got that right.”

Charlene extended the royal finger. “Don't try giving me that junk about how I should be happy I'm a
woman
now and all that.”

“Believe me, I won't. Ticked me off when people told me that, too. And my dad was the one who told me about periods, because my mom was gone by then. All the same, he wasn't exactly informed about the difference in products, like pads and tampons and all that. What to expect. How you'd feel. So you want to ask anything, any time, just pipe up.”

“The only thing I want to do is change schools and not have to go back there.”

“Can't do that, Charl. But maybe we could take a day off. We can talk about different ways to handle it—”

Just as they'd talked about different ways to handle the hearing, Merry thought, as they drove to the courthouse. Still, she went through it all again.

“There's nothing to be nervous about, honey. Everybody only has your best interests at heart. You just answer whatever the judge asks you and tell him how you feel.”

“I don't want to meet her alone. I want you to be in there.”

“You won't be alone. Lee Oxford will be in there. So will Judge Burns. And it's only for a few minutes, Charl—”

“I still don't see why I have to see her at all if I don't want to. So far nobody's listening to me. I don't want to go. I don't want to see her. I don't like the whole hearing thing.”

“It's not going to be an easy afternoon,” Merry said soothingly, “but it's not like a tetanus shot, shortie. Nothing painful's going to happen. It's just about people talking who care about you. We'll be home before dinner.”

Charlene was calmer once they finally got settled. They almost ended up in the probation office because of a tiny wrong turn. On the other hand, her getting lost—yet again—finally won a grin and a tease out of Charlene.

“Okay, now. I'll be back in this room to pick you up. I'm just two doors down. Anything goes wrong, you just yell at the top of your lungs and I'll be there.”

“Yeah, like you really want me to do that,” Charlene said wryly. But the brunette woman with the quiet, warm smile in the office of Judge Burns's chambers was clearly used to taking charge of young people. She'd set up Charlie with a soda and a puzzle book before Merry had to leave her.

She was still doing fine when she walked into the hearing room, which was a surprise. Somehow she'd expected it to look like a courtroom on TV. Instead it was more conference-room size, with tall narrow windows, scarred mahogany woodwork and a long desk on a dais in front. Although the judge obviously sat there, the rest of the room was simply divided in two sections with tables and chairs. There was no space for a jury. At most a dozen could fit in the room as it was.

She was the first one there, except for a female bailiff. Finally Lee Oxford huffed in, his alligator shoes looking spit-shined, his suit pressed sharp. “This is going to go fine, so don't be nervous, Merry,” he said.

“I'm not worried,” she said, and really meant it. She was cool as a cucumber. Even after June Innes walked in, with her chilly expression and authoritative posture, Merry felt completely collected. Everyone seemed to have a sheaf of papers to pore over but Merry, but that was okay. She closed her eyes and did more of that calm, cool thing. What good would it do to get upset? All she had to do was stand up, project all her feelings and ideas and love for Charlene, do what Charlie would want her to do for his daughter. So she was alone. Big deal. She didn't expect anyone to be there for her.

But then…the judge walked in.

Judges, in her opinion, should look like Santa Claus, kindly and wise and older—just a little thinner. Not this one. Judge Burns looked a young midthirties, and though he was wearing a stereotypical black robe, it was casually open, revealing a GQ tie and tonal shirt. His skin was as tanned as a tennis pro.

Panic started to close her throat, all the more startling because she'd been so positive she was calm. Suddenly her fingertips froze up and her heart kept hiccupping, and her lips felt like butter, too slippery to talk. She didn't care if the judge was adorable, for Pete's sake. But she'd counted on being able to talk to him, counted on him wanting to listen, willing to hear how much was at stake for Charlene.

Any other time, she wouldn't have minded looking at a heartthrob—but not
here.
The judge didn't look like anyone who was into kids, and for the first time, Merry felt the terror surface from so carefully buried depths…that she could lose Charlie. Really. Lose her.

The judge took his seat as if he were relaxing for the evening with friends. “There are several issues before the court today, affecting the minor, Charlene Ross. We'll get everyone sworn in, and then start. We all need to be clear that our function here today is to assess the status of the guardianship affecting the minor child, Charlene Ross.”