Dante's Dilemma (6 page)

“So what's the bottom line—will she give you more time with Louis or not?”

“Four weekends annually, no Chicago.”

“That's not so bad,” Kay said. “If that's her first offer, I'm sure we can move the needle a little more in your favor. And it's an improvement over what you have now.” Under the current court-sanctioned arrangement, I was technically allowed to see Louis only once a year.

I shook my head in anger. “I haven't told you what the condition is.” The night before, my hand had begun to shake when I first realized what I was reading, and I had to force my fingers to continue down the page. “I have to agree to allow Louis's new stepfather to”—I could barely spit out the words—“adopt him.”

I knew the fellow, a radiologist with a toney practice in Riverside. According to the papers tendered by Annie's lawyers, his name would replace mine on Louis's birth certificate, and I would cease to exist in any legal sense as my son's father. It wasn't clear what Louis was then supposed to call me—Once In A While Daddy, or maybe just Poor Uncle Mark—but the mere thought of it sickened me.

“Oh dear,” Kay said as she took this in. “Well, I guess we
do
have a fight on our hands.”

“Is there a way to fight it? I mean, assuming I won't agree?”

Kay was silent for a moment. “I'll have to do some research.”

Worse than I'd imagined. “I won't hold you to an answer, but please tell me what you think right now—can Annie go ahead with an adoption over my objection?”

Kay chose her words carefully. “She'll have to petition the court, but there is precedent for it. When there's been abandonment by the biological parent.”

Abandonment.
I knew enough about how the legal system worked to see immediately how Annie's lawyers would portray me. Louis was nearly three before I'd asked to see him for the first time. Never mind that I'd stayed away because I'd been sick—and not just from having to live with myself. No matter how I tried to explain it, my long absence from my son's life would inevitably raise questions.

“So it's hopeless.”

“I didn't say that. But you need to be aware of what fighting this is going to mean. The issue will ultimately come down to what's in Louis's best interests. At a minimum, he'll have to be interviewed by social workers, maybe even a court-appointed guardian. And that won't be the end of it. Everything about your life will become fodder for discovery. Where you live and work, what you do in your spare time—even how you stock your refrigerator. Any fact that might bear on what kind of home you could provide.” She stopped there, not needing to spell it out for me.

“I'm not the first blind father in history. I can take care of him.”

“I believe that, but we're going to be battling some pretty nasty assumptions. It will be an uphill battle, even without you living a thousand miles away.”

“That's not a problem. I can be on the first plane tomorrow.” As a matter of fact, it would kill quite a few birds with one stone. I'd quit my job and dust off my résumé, put the new house on the market . . .

“Not so fast. I don't want to take the chance that you'll be between jobs when we go to hearing.”

I realized then with another body blow to my ego exactly what else I had to be fearful of: finding some other place willing to employ me.

“You stay put,” Kay advised, “at least until I've taken a closer look at some of the law. But before we get underway, I want to be sure you've thought it all through—that you're really ready to go forward with this.”

“I don't need time to decide. He's my kid.”

“All right. I'll start the ball rolling on our end. The first thing I'm going to do is call Annie's lawyers and tell them they're to deal directly with me from this point forward. And that we're going to move to have the original decree vacated. We're no longer politely asking for a few unsupervised visits. We're going for full parental rights and joint custody.”

“Is that possible? I wasn't under any kind of duress when I signed.”

“I can't promise anything, but the first thing you learn as a lawyer is to take the offensive. First impressions count, and I want the court to view you as fighting tooth and nail for Louis. In the meantime, painful as it may be, I want you to think back on the night your son died. Is there anything we can use against Annie, anything that might cast some of the blame on her?”

Kay accurately read my hesitation. “Mark, that's what I meant about being sure. If you want to do everything to get your little boy back, you need to be prepared for it to get ugly. And fast.”

SIX

I arrived at the County Building that morning a good half hour early for my meeting with State's Attorney O'Malley. If my conversation with Kay meant anything, it was that I could no longer afford to lose my job. Even with my record, I couldn't assume another hospital would be chomping at the bit to hire a doctor my age, let alone one who couldn't read the first letter off an eye chart. Sure, there were antidiscrimination laws, but they were of small consolation to the seventy-five percent of blind Americans who couldn't find work in their chosen fields. I thought back shamefacedly on my behavior with Jonathan the day before. From now on, my marching orders would be to kiss his dimpled ass from sunrise to sunset, even if I had to swallow every last ounce of my pride to do it.

I exited the cab cautiously, feeling ahead with the cane for a safe place to plant my feet. An arctic cold front had moved in the night before, sending the mercury into the single digits and sheathing the city in ice. Fortunately, the Streets and San crews had been out early: the salt on the pavement was as thick as poppy seeds on a New York bagel. I crunched over to the entrance, vowing to redouble my efforts to locate where the movers had put my rubbers. I could only imagine what the chemicals were doing to my shoes.

The heating vents were working double-time when I squeezed through the revolving door. It was only half past eight, but the lobby was swarming with people: slow-moving workers on their way to their desks, citizens arriving to beg, steal, or bribe a favor from an official. There were plenty of bureaucrats to choose from. By some counts, Illinois is home to more than seven thousand separate government units, the highest in the country. People grumbled about their tax bills, but the appetite for patronage jobs was as rich as the silt flowing through the area's rivers, managed (naturally) by several overlapping agencies.

Once inside, I pulled off my winter hat—a knit Mets/Grateful Dead warmer—and stuffed it into my backpack. It wouldn't do to show up for my new assignment looking unserious or in hostile colors. “Silent Night” was playing on the building's loudspeaker, reminding me that Christmas was only two weeks away. Until the package from Annie's lawyers, I'd entertained hopes of spending part of the holiday season with Louis. Now it looked like I'd be playing Ebenezer Scrooge again. I shook off the thought and started off toward the chiming of the elevators at the back of the lobby. Halfway there, I froze at a familiar sound a few yards distant: an unmistakable contralto coming from the center of a shadowy group headed straight my way.

Shit
, I thought. There wasn't time to duck into a corner—was there even one? It didn't matter. Hallie had already spotted me.

“Speak of the devil, there's Mark now.”

She and her companions reached me in a few seconds.

“Hallie?” I said, feigning a blind man's confusion to explain the silly look on my face.

“Stop pretending you don't know it's me.” She took my arm and gave it a subtle turn so I would know exactly which way to face the others, a maneuver learned from growing up with a blind brother. Even through my overcoat, her touch sent a jolt down my spine. “This is Mark Angelotti, the expert I was just telling you about. Don't pay any attention to his act. He doesn't miss a thing.”

She introduced me to two other lawyers, Sara Andrews, a senior partner at her firm, and Carter Fawcett, an associate. I held out my hand and we all shook.

“Pleased,” Carter said.

“Don't say that until you get to know him better,” Hallie said.

She didn't seem to feel anything like my own embarrassment, so I fell in with the jolly mood. “Three lawyers all at once. I'll have to watch out for my wallet.” I made a show of patting my breast pocket.

“That one's so old it has cobwebs on it,” Hallie said. “You've gotten rusty in my absence.”

“You too, unless I miss my mark.”

She laughed and turned back to her colleagues. “Did I mention he's also good with puns? Why don't you guys start back and I'll catch up with you at the office.” The law firm of Wentworth, Feinstein, and Shaw, where Hallie headed the criminal practice, was only a few blocks away. “We still have hours to go until the press conference and I need a few minutes alone with Mark. Carter, don't forget about that new set of pleadings.”

“You're looking good,” she said as soon as they'd departed.

“As are you,” I replied, imagining her as Josh had described: a curvy Latin beauty with dark hair and laughing, mocha-colored eyes. I didn't have much else to go on, having kissed her only a few times before working up the courage to tell her about Jack.

“Though I might advise dressing more appropriately for the weather. Your ears are as red as beets,” Hallie said.

“I forgot to wear a hat this morning.” I lied. “So what's up? Sounds like you have a new case.”

“I do. But it's all hush-hush for the moment. We're making the big announcement this afternoon. It's a
pro bono
matter, very high-profile. I really had to work the levers to get my partners to agree, but they're pleased with the exposure it will bring to the firm. The only negative is that Tony Di Marco will be heading up the prosecution. We were just upstairs, meeting with him about scheduling. Same shady little prick as always. I'd love to see you wipe the smirk off his face again.”

Di Marco was the assistant who had conducted my first, all-too-painful cross-examination. “As I recall, he cleaned my clock pretty good, too.”

“You held your own. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We're taking over from another defense team and I'm not comfortable with the expert they've been using. We videotaped her for practice and it was like watching a kindergartener trying to explain calculus. We could really use your help.”

I winced inwardly. So that's all she wanted from me.

“Do you think you could squeeze in some time tomorrow? I could fill you in over lunch. The change of counsel will be public then, and you can tell me what you think. About helping us, that is.”

I looked down at my shoes. “I don't know, Hallie. I'm going to be tied up on a new matter myself for a while.” More than one if you counted my upcoming custody battle. “And I'm not sure we should be working together. I'm mean, I assumed when you didn't return my calls—”

She touched my sleeve in an intimate gesture. “I know. But I needed time to get used to what you told me. It's . . . well, let's just say it wasn't easy for me, finding out about your son. And you not telling me about it for so long. I didn't call because I wasn't sure. To be honest, I'm still not. But maybe when this new case is behind us, we could have coffee sometime . . .” She trailed off unpromisingly.

I took a deep breath. “I don't think it's wise. Not the part about coffee, but us being on the same case together. It will just complicate things.”

I waited to see whether she'd protest, wishing like hell I could read her expression.

She hesitated before patting my sleeve again. “I guess you're right. I'll call you when this new case is finished then?”

“OK.” I turned to go.

“And, Mark?”

“Yes?”

“Happy Holidays.”

I rode the elevator to the third floor and checked in at the front desk. The receptionist on duty was better than average—I figured state employees were required to take some kind of sensitivity training—and displayed little discomfort in asking for my ID and showing me where to sign the visitor's log. Michelle Rogers, the ASA sent to fetch me, was less composed, introducing herself in an overly loud voice and hanging back awkwardly thereafter.

I put on my Yes I'm Carrying This Big White Cane expression, and asked if there was a place I could hang my coat.

“Sure,” Michelle said. “There's a closet right over there.”

She sounded young and fearful of making a mistake, so I went easy on her. “You'll have to show me where ‘there' is. Don't worry, it's not hard.”

I gave her a quick introduction to “sighted guide” by asking her to tap the front of my left hand with the back of her right, which enabled me to locate her elbow without much trouble. I reached up and grasped it from behind. “Just walk at a normal pace and I'll follow. You don't need to pull me along and I'll trust you to stop us before we pitch down a flight of stairs.”