Charlie
lifted his head and looked at her with sad eyes.
 “Guess we
blew it,” he sighed.
 Their
sandwiches came. Molly looked at hers and nearly retched. Surprisingly, Charlie
ate his while Forte took a desultory bite now and again. It was obvious his
mind was elsewhere.
 “It was a
curve you threw me, Mrs. Waters. No question of that.”
 Maybe that
was it, she decided. She had thrown them all curves. Maybe all this trouble
came from her own doings. All wrong, she decided, a catalogue of
self-accusations rising in her mind.
 “Not going to
be much fun going back in there,” Charlie muttered, turning to the lawyer. “You
said from the beginning it was a long shot.”
 “Didn't
expect it to be
this
long.” He pushed his sandwich plate away. “I don't
feel very good about this, folks. A good trial lawyer anticipates. When she
walked in pregnant, I knew we were up against it. I should have asked for
interrogatories, made observations. Their family setup is strong and tight,
well-illustrated. The opposition seems better served.”
 “No sense
running yourself down, Mr. Forte,” Molly said. “I'm the one who wrecked the
case.”
 “A lawyer has
to establish the right environment for his clients to open up, an atmosphere of
candor.” It surprised her to see how hard he was taking it. She looked at
Charlie, who seemed equally confused. He had told them he believed in their
cause, but this attitude seemed beyond the call of duty. “No. I'm afraid it
doesn't look good, folks.”
 “Are you
suggesting that we walk away?” Molly asked.
 “I suppose it
sounds like that,” he said.
 “That lady up
there didn't let on what she was thinking,” Charlie said. He seemed to be
trying hard to shake off the gloom of impending defeat.
 “We'll just
have to put our heads down and go forward,” Forte said, pulling his plate
forward again and taking a bite of his sandwich. “It's not over yet.” His eyes
glazed over as if his mind had gone elsewhere.
 Turning
toward Charlie, Molly put her hand over his. “You were terrific up there,
Charlie. No matter what, I was very proud.”
 “I was dying
inside, babe. I tell you true.”
 “Me, too.”
 Forte seemed
lost in thought, and they ignored him.
 “Forgive me?”
she asked. She knew she would spend a lifetime asking that question.
 “For what?”
And he would spend a lifetime answering it in just that way.
 “I could kick
myself,” she said.
 “Hell you
can.” He tried to smile. “That's my job.”
 “If I were
Peck, I'd ask for a dismissal,” Forte said suddenly, his fingers tapping the
table. “It may be over sooner than we think.” But it did not seem as if his
words ended the thought. “She might not go for that.” He seemed to be talking
to himself.
 “For what?”
Molly asked.
 “I don't
know,” Forte shrugged.
 “It sounded
like you did,” Molly said.
 “Just an
embryo,” Forte muttered. “Too complicated to explain.”
 Molly sensed
that he was being evasive and did not pursue the point. She noted that Forte
had finished his sandwich.
 When the
hearing reconvened, the two lawyers stood in front of the bench talking in
whispers, then came back to the table.
 “She didn't
grant his request for a dismissal,” Forte said.
 “I suppose
that's good,” Molly said.
 “Neither good
nor bad. She simply might have no place to go for the rest of the day.” Molly
detected a note of sarcasm, although Forte seemed uncommonly vague. He was
working things out, she decided. She pointedly avoided looking at Frances and
Peter.
 Then Frances
rose and waddled to the witness stand. Peck followed. Despite her size, she
looked more radiant than Molly had ever seen her. Her face had filled out, and
her skin, devoid of makeup, glowed with health. Clear-eyed, neat in her crisp
maternity blouse with its big red bow, she looked the picture of confidence and
contentment. Happy. So you put us all behind you, Molly thought, glancing at
Charlie. Yet, notwithstanding the dispute, Molly felt more than just a grudging
admiration for her. She had come a long away from Dundalk, from Chuck and his
indifference. From them. Perhaps, from Frances's point of view, she and Charlie
were pariahs, reminders of sadder days, an unwanted, unnecessary, and negative
influence on Tray. Maybe it was time to stop this charade.
 Peck led Frances
gently through her testimony. Earlier, he had driven home the main point of his
arguments. It remained to put the frosting on the cake. The initial questioning
had clearly established that the life of the Graham family, Tray included, was
a model of loving, caring, respect, and, in fact, unbounded happiness.
 “And your
first marriage, to Charles Waters, Jr., was, to say the least, unsatisfactory?”
Peck asked.
 “At first it
was reasonably happy. Then Tray came along, and my husband went off to foreign
countries.”
 “Rarely
coming home?”
 “Rarely.”
 “And when he
did come home?”
 “He was
distant and indifferent.”
 “Did you
contemplate divorce?”
 She lowered
her eyes and clasped her hands across the expanse of her pregnant middle.
 “It was on my
mind. Yes.”
 “Not true,”
Charlie whispered.
 “You don't
know that for sure, Charlie,” Molly snapped, and he looked at her queerly.
 “With respect
to your in-laws, how did they treat you during the marriage to their son?”
 “We never had
words. They were very devoted to Chuck, and I, of course, was his wife. Molly
was thoughtful and understanding. My father-in-law was more interested inӉshe
hesitated as if searching for exactly the right wordâ“manly things. His
relationship with my husband was very close. Also with Tray. They were not
unkind. I'd never say that. Not once. I was married to their son.”
 “And before?”
 “My
father-in-law opposed the marriage. It was no secret.”
 “For what
reason?”
 “He said it
was because Chuck and I were too young.”
 “That seems
logical. Was there any other reason?”
 “I think he
would have opposed any woman who wanted to marry his son.”
 Molly
squirmed uncomfortably. There was no denying the truth of it.
 “Regarding
Tray, did they ever treat him badly?”
 “Of course not.”
 “Are they
sincere when they say they love him?”
 “I believe
so.”
 “Is it true
that after your husband's death, they were supportive, loving to Tray?”
 “Yes. They
were.”
 “And when
your present husband came along, how did your father-in-law react?”
 “He did not
approve of our getting married so soon after Chuck's death.”
 “And he made
these views known to your future husband?”
 “Emphatically.”
 “But neither
he nor your mother-in-law opposed his plan to adopt Tray?”
 “No.”
 Peck paused.
Turning, he looked at Molly and Charlie, telescoping the importance of the
message that was about to come forth.
 “Would you
tell the court, Mrs. Graham, in your own words, exactly why you feel that it
would be better for your son if Mr. and Mrs. Waters did not visit him at this
time.”
 Frances
sucked in a deep breath. Here comes the painful part, she thought. The judge
tilted her head toward the witness, her attention totally focused. Molly
reached out and took Charlie's hand. He was sweating.
 “Tray is a
happy, well-adjusted boy. He has a loving father in every respect. He has a new
brother whom he loves and, as you can see, another one on the way. Hopefully, a
sister. I know that my former in-laws think us cruel and heartless for taking
this action. But we have to make decisions that are best for our son. For Tray.
The past for him is only a dim memory. Why should he be disturbed, his life
disrupted, in any way? He has loving grandparents in my husband's parents. Why
should he be treated differently from the other children? It is not necessary
for him to visit with Mr. and Mrs. Waters. In fact, it will undoubtedly be bad
for himâ”
 “What makes
you say that?” the lawyer interrupted.
 “His reaction
to Mr. Waters's visit to the school was upsetting. It was an unnecessary
intrusion.”
 “You were
surprised at Mr. Waters's sudden visit?”
 “It seemed
very odd.”
 “Irrational?”
 “I suppose.”
 “Did it
affect you at all?”
 “It upset me,
too, yes.”
 “In the light
of what you subsequently heard about Mr. Waters, as we learned earlier, have
you any doubts about your decision on visitation?”
 “None.”
 “Now let me
ask you this, Mrs. Graham. Sometime after Mr. Waters's visit to the school, you
were asked by Mrs. Waters to meet with you.”
 “That is
correct.”
 “And you
went?”
 “Yes.”
 “Why?”
 “She sounded
very troubled and I truly felt that she might be offering to drop this suit.”
 “So you
went?”
 “Yes.”
 “And she told
you how unhappy they were and about Mr. Waters's, well, depressed state and his
self-destructive thoughts?”
 “Yes.”
 “And how did
this affect you?”
 “Badly. I
began having pains. I thought perhaps it might be a miscarriage coming on. I
had to stay in bed for a week.”
 “Do you blame
that on the aggravation of the meeting?”
 “I can only
assume it was because of that. It could have been a coincidence.”
 “But you were
aggravated by this meeting?”
 “Very much
so.”
 “Did it leave
you with any regrets, any second thoughts about your decision?”
 “None.”
 Peck nodded
and looked up at the judge.
 “No more
questions, your Honor.”
 He doesn't
have to go much further, Molly thought. Forte stirred beside her. She looked up
at him. His eyes were burning with intensity, his lips were bloodless, his
olive skin seemed darker. He moved forward, lean and spare, indicating a
singleness of purpose that made her wince with fear. Please, God, she thought,
don't let him hurt her. He started abruptly, without introductions or
preliminaries.
 “If you had
not married, Mrs. Graham, would you have allowed your former in-laws to have
access to your child by their son?”
 “I object to
that, your Honor,” Peck said, rising. “That question is hypothetical and
absurd.”
 “I have no
objections, counselor,” the judge said.
 “Well then?”
Forte prodded.
 “I don't
think that's a fair question,” Frances said, looking up toward the judge.
 “I'll put it
another way, Mrs. Graham. You did not have any objections to your former
in-laws' supportâphysical, psychological, financial, whateverâduring the brief
term of your widowhood?”
 “I had no
choice.”
 “Did you
detest it? Was it so terrible?”
 “I did not
feel comfortable being dependent on them. No.” Frances seemed puzzled by
Forte's line of reasoning. Molly, too.
 “You didn't
think that they were a bad influence on their grandchild then?”
 “I wasn't
overjoyed by their influence. As I said, what choice had I?”
 “Why were you
unhappy with their influence?”
 Frances
hesitated, her eyes searching for her husband.
 “They weren't
such a hot influence on Chuck.”
 “Are you
blaming them for your admittedly unsuccessful marriage?”
 “In a way, I
supposeâ”
 “As if you
did not exist as a partner in that marriage.”
 “I don't know
what you're getting at,” Frances said.
 “Nor do I,
your Honor,” Peck said rising. The judge waved him down.
 “I think you
should make your line of questioning clearer, counselor,” the judge said. Forte
nodded consent, not taking his eyes off Frances.
 “But you just
said you blamed your in-laws for your bad marriage.”
 “I didn't
mean that. Not entirely.”
 “What did you
mean?”
 “You have to
understand. Chuck was never really mine. He was always torn. His fatherâhis
father just possessed him.”
 “Exercised
undue influence, is that what you mean?”
 “Well,” she
hesitated. “Something like that.”
 “An influence
that you perceived as negative?”
 “In some
ways, yes.”
 “In what
ways?”
 “They were
together a lot.”
 “Meaning you
were left out.”
 “In a way.”
 “That seems
very vague, Mrs. Graham.”
 Peck stood up
again.
 “I really
object to this, your Honor. He's badgering my client.”
 “I'm inclined
to agree, Mr. Forte.”
 “I'm just
trying to make a point.”
 “What point?”
the judge asked.
 “If you let
me continue, I'll show you.”
 “Go on then,
counselor,” the judge said. “But gently, please. This is not a criminal trial.”
 Forte turned
back to Frances.
 “So you felt
that your father-in-law was a bad influence on your husband and would be a bad
influence on your child?”