Deadlock (31 page)

“No, not that. But these things can throw us off.”

“Tom,” Millie said, gathering all the earnestness she could. “I don’t feel
off.
I might have thought that once. But I’ve been approaching this like I would a case that comes before us. I’ve been reading and analyzing and taking notes. But I’ve also been praying and trying to listen. I know how odd that may sound to you, but I just believe it, Tom. I am a Christian because I believe it.”

Riley said nothing. If he was reflecting on anything, Millie thought, it was probably his sudden demise into the Court’s minority on religion cases.

“And now you’re suddenly what?” Riley said. “A Bill Bonassi-type justice?”

“I am not a type,” Millie said.

“Don’t be naive, Millie. You know how it is. People depend on the Court. They sense what it is doing and adjust. You have been the swing vote on many crucial occasions. We all know that. The people know that. If you veer off in another direction all of a sudden, it’s going to wreak havoc.”

“I don’t see this as veering off.”

“Why not? You’ve done a 180 on Establishment. A complete turnaround. What are you going to do with, say, abortion? You’ve always supported a woman’s right to choose. Do you still?”

The directness of the question hit her hard. “Just because I am a Christian doesn’t mean I am going to change my approach. I always take any issue as it comes up, case by case.”

Silence for a moment, then Riley’s tone became fatherly. “Millie,” he said, leaning forward the way a concerned counselor would. “We’ve known each other a long time. You know how fond I am of you. And I understand what it’s like to go through difficult, confusing times in life. When my wife died in ’92, it was terrible. But I got through it. And I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. I didn’t change my entire life. I went on, the way I always had. And you can do the same.”

“I can only promise,” she said, “that I will take great care how I decide cases, as always. I will not change the way I approach research and deliberations. But” — she looked at Riley, into the blue, intelligent eyes she knew so well — “we may not always agree like we used to.”

“I hope,” Riley said without hesitation, “it won’t come to that. But if you suddenly throw this Court off in the opposite direction . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t want to have to fight you, Millie.”

His words, almost whispered, hit her like a car slamming into her. Yes, that was it. Like her accident all over again. Her throat tightened. “I would hope there won’t be a rift,” she said.

But there was. She knew it.

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4

Fall storms pummeled the east for four days after that. But on Monday the sky was clear and blue, as if to signal a fresh start for the business of the Court.

By the time Millie was in her chambers, ready to engage in legal research on an issue of interstate commerce, she felt she was coming out from under a dark cloud. Perhaps the storm of Tom Riley’s reaction would also blow over, and she could get back to business as usual.

She began the morning at her desk with a new habit. She had a brand new Bible, a gift from Dorothy Bonassi. Each morning for the last two weeks she had opened to the Psalms and let them pour into her. There was no agenda, none of the anxious striving she had experienced during her conversion. It was the living Word of God, and she soaked it up like the desert soaks up rain.

Today she was on Psalm 19. She read the first verse slowly, whispering the words. “ ‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork.’ ”

She realized she finally believed that. The music of it filled her. And she felt, at last, that she had climbed to another height. Not near the peak, not yet. But up from where she had started, where she had spent years. And she was safe here. She would not fall.

She closed her Bible and picked up her work. Turning to the draft opinion on interstate commerce that one of her clerks, Paul, had prepared, Millie knew she would make use of the blue pencil. But it would be a pleasure to edit this one. It had nothing to do with the Establishment Clause, and she could use a break from
that
section of the Constitution, thank you.

Her other clerk, Rosalind, knocked on her door and entered. Her face had an ashen, faraway look.

“What is it?” Millie asked.

“You’d better come,” Rosalind said.

Both of her clerks had workstations in the antechamber. Paul, the bespectacled
Law Review
editor from Stanford, sat before his terminal in silence. The glow from the screen reflected off his glasses. He did not look up to make eye contact with Millie. His blank stare made her think of an accident scene, as if he were seeing a dead body sprawled on a patch of asphalt somewhere.

“Did somebody die?” Millie asked. Perhaps the president? A fellow justice? She felt her heart quicken.

Rosalind shook her head, her blond hair framing her concerned face, and indicated Millie should take her seat in front of Rosalind’s screen.

Millie sat and looked at the screen. Big block letters spelled out the
Burrow Bulletin
. And just below that a headline read “Supreme Court Chief Gets Religion!”

Millie read the article in silence.

Gimme that old-time religion! That’s a song you may hear coming from a most unlikely place — the chambers of a certain chief justice of the United States Supreme Court!

Did I say chief justice? Yes, I did. Looks like the cat’s out of the bag, the chickens have flown the coop, the bloom is off the rose. Somebody stop me!

The
Burrow Bulletin
has learned that Millicent Mannings Hollander, the recently enrobed chief of our highest court, has seen the light!

Not only is she now a professing Christian, but she’s already reversed herself in the first major case of her tenure, soon to be decided! The case involves the Establishment Clause and government interference in matters of religion.

Insiders tell the
Burrow Bulletin
that Hollander is going to rule that the government of Ohio can go holy roller and inject God right into their public life! This is a complete reversal of how Hollander has ruled in the past!

What next? This reporter is betting abortion will be the next domino to fall. With Hollander now the fifth in a conservative majority, the whole balance of the Supreme Court has been thrown off! Never in our history have we seen a Supreme Court justice change so completely in one fell swoop.

Your intrepid correspondent is in touch with some members of Congress, who are vowing to look into this. One even called it a “fraud” on the American people!

Stay tuned! In the next few days, you are bound to see the reverberations of this bombshell across the nation!

Burrowing . . .

As if from a distance, Millie heard Rosalind’s voice. “Justice Hollander, are you all right?”

Millie did not answer. The inside of her head felt like a collapsing building, a chaos of rubble and dust, imploding upon itself. For a long, sickening moment she thought she might stop breathing.

“Madame Chief Justice?” Rosalind said.

“I’m sorry,” Millie said.

“Is it . . .”

Millie looked at Rosalind. Her face was like that of a child whose mother has just been accused of a terrible crime. Now she was asking, not wanting to believe it.

“Rosalind, Paul,” Millie said. “I need to tell you what has happened.”

Rosalind still looked like the waiting child. Paul, in contrast, was the petulant one. He did not look up from his screen.

“Paul?” Millie said.

Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were almost tearful.

“Please,” Millie said. “Let me tell you both what this is about.”

The phone on Paul’s desk rang. Millie waited as he picked up and inquired.

Paul’s eyes shot to Millie while the receiver was still at his ear. Then he put the receiver to his chest. “It’s ABC News,” he said. “They want to have a word with you.”

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5

For Senator Sam Levering, breaking news was like Prozac — an instant respite from depression. He was, in fact, a news junkie.

That was why his limo had not only two TV monitors, but also a special remote so he could jump immediately to any of five news outlets — CNN, Fox, ABC, NBC, and CBS.

This morning he was concentrating on ABC. The reporter was standing in front of the White House delivering his report. The “strange conversion” of Chief Justice Hollander had reached the top of the Washington news food chain.

When the limo phone rang, Levering knew exactly who it would be.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” Levering said.

“What’s good about it?” Francis said.

“You’ve heard.”

“Of course I’ve heard. It’s all over the place. You’d think we’d had a terrorist attack with all the reporters.”

Levering mused that this felt very much like an attack. Surprising, potentially debilitating.

“What are you going to do about it?” Francis demanded.

“I’m on it.”

“Were you on it when you forced Hollander down my throat?”

Levering felt like cussing out the president of the United States. Instead he said, “I will take care of it.”

“Get her off the bench,” the president said.

“She’s a Supreme Court justice,” Levering snapped. “She either has to retire, die, or get impeached.”

“Choose one,” Francis said.

Was he serious? “Mr. President, let me assure you. I can deal with Hollander. I will get her to play ball, as they say, or force her to resign.”

“How?”

“Leave that to me.”

“I already did that,” Francis shot back. “I just better not see a rollback on women’s rights, gay rights, every other kind of rights. What a nightmare. You know what they’ll say about me? That I made the worst pick for chief justice ever. Should have seen it coming. This could change the Court for twenty years.”

“Shall we meet?” Levering said. “I’m free this afternoon.”

“No,” Francis said. “I’m golfing with the CEO of GE. Just do something and get back to me.”

Click.

Levering looked out the window and saw the Washington Monument rising into a fog.

He poured himself a shot of bourbon and called Anne Deveraux.

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1

Charlene woke up just before the train hit her.

The locomotive bore down on her, its horn blaring. She was stuck on the tracks, unable to move. No restraints held her. Her feet simply would not take her away from certain death.

The nightmare ended, as they most often do, before impact. But the train whistle sounded again, and this time Charlene recognized it. It was the prolonged beep of her fax machine.

She had fallen asleep on the couch. Last night she could not sleep at all, her stomach in a knot. The decision from the Court of Appeals was late, and there was no word from the clerk when it would come in.

No matter how much Charlene prayed for sleep, it was denied her. She took that as a sign that God did not want her to sleep, but to continue praying. She did so, starting with prayers for Sarah Mae and Aggie Sherman, then for the case to be resolved in their favor.

But that was not all. Charlene found herself praying for Millicent Mannings Hollander.

She had been stunned by the news. A Supreme Court justice coming to know Christ as Savior while actively serving? That was definitely a first.

But would Hollander’s faith lead her to adopt a different view of the law than she’d had before? What would that do to the balance of the Court?

Charlene had a sudden wild thought. What if Sarah Mae’s case actually got to the high Court? How would Hollander rule? Graebner and Winsor believed strongly she would be on their side, and Charlene had to agree. But what now? She prayed for God’s will, not her own, and finally fell asleep around four in the morning.

The fax beeped again. Charlene rubbed her eyes and checked her watch. 11 a.m.