Fallen Hearts (Casteel 3)

"It's out of the question, Loretta," I said I didn't want to call anyone "Mother" who made such a suggestion. The smile left her face as if I had slapped it.

"You're not thinking of your own family, of Logan and your own child," she said sternly.

"Drake is my own family," I said.

"But my dear," she said, leaning back, "you and I know he's not."

I stared at her. Apparently, there wasn't anything Logan hadn't told her. I wondered if he had told her what had happened between Tony and me.

"Drake is, too, my family," I said slowly, my eyes narrowed, my gaze pointed and sharp as steel knives. "I resent your saying otherwise."

"I'm only trying to be helpful," she said. "I'm only thinking of your welfare."

"Thank you, Mother," I said, smiling, my face dripping with the same false cordiality. "It was so nice of you to come over here in this bitter cold."

The false softness quickly left her eyes. Her hand shook and she nearly dropped the teacup.

"Well, I think you're making a terrible mistake going through with this, but if you're determined to do it, there's nothing more I can say." She put the teacup down so sharply, it nearly shattered. "Please," she said, standing. "Don't tell Logan I came over here to advise you. He asked me not to do it."

"Then why did you?" I asked quickly.

"Sometimes a mother knows what's better for her child . . . instinctively," she said.

"That's exactly how I feel, Mother," I said. "Although I am not Drake's mother, I know instinctively what's better for him, and like his mother, doing what his mother would surely want, I intend to win him back. I hope you'll be there to support us during this trying time."

"Oh, of course, I will," she said quickly. "Poor dears. Of course." She came around the desk to kiss me. Her lips felt cold against my cheek. "Just call me, anytime. And we'll be there right beside you," she said.

She shook her head and sighed and then she left.

I sat back and looked out the window. It must have warmed some, I thought, for it had started to snow, but my heart still felt as if it were caught in the grip of a cold hand. Of course I was frightened about tomorrow. Of course I was concerned about the future of my own child, but I couldn't stand the thought of Drake growing up and someday looking at me with Luke's eyes, filled with a similar resentment. I wanted so much to win his love and have him cherish me as his sister. Fanny sensed just how much I wanted it, and so she set to take it away.

I was tired of losing the people I loved.

"No, Loretta," I whispered, "there is no other way. This journey filled with pain and suffering has come to an end where it all began . . in the Willies. And that's as it should be. Surely, that's as it should be."

I turned back to the papers on the desk, determined I would be ready.

SIXTEEN The Trial

THE COURTHOUSE WAS STUFFED LIKE A THANKSGIVING turkey, with so many people crowded in, it was full to bursting. Nearly in tears Logan's mother told me some people in Winnerow had actually planned to close their shops and leave their jobs to attend the hearing.

This early November day brought us our first true winter weather. It had been snowing heavily all morning; a sharp, brisk wind churned the flakes into wild dervishes. In such bitter, brutal weather I didn't think many people would venture out, but it seemed most of the town had come to witness the spectacle. When Logan and I entered with Camden Lakewood, people stared and whispered, their voices like dry leaves blown before winter's first wind. Everything about us was fodder for their grinding jaws--the clothes we wore, the expression on our faces, and the way we carried ourselves as we walked down the aisle to our seats before the judge's table.

It was Camden Lakewood's idea that we should create a distinct contrast between ourselves and Fanny and Randall immediately, so Logan wore one of his expensive dark blue suits and his lamb's-wool topcoat. I wore a dark blue wool dress, my matching diamond bracelet, necklace, and earrings and my silver fox coat. I had my hair brushed down, but pinned up on the sides.

Logan's parents sat right behind us, his mother looking as though she were holding her breath. Her face was already flushed and she wore the most agitated expression. His father smiled warmly and nodded with encouragement.

The crowd's murmur rose in volume the moment Fanny, Randall, and their attorney, Wendell Burton, entered. They had been married two weeks ago in a quick civil ceremony. Fanny swept in a few steps in front of them. She had her rich black hair pinned into a bun and wore long, silver earrings that dangled from her lobes like icicles. I was surprised at how smart she looked in her heavy dark green wool jacket. It had a detachable cape that she unfastened the moment she came through the door. Beneath her coat she wore a high-collar black wool dress with three- quarter sleeves. She wore no jewelry other than her earrings.

Randall wore a light overcoat. His hair was shiny and wet from the snow, and although he looked frightened and tense, he did appear neat and distinguished in his dark brown suit. Fanny looked directly at people in the audience and smiled. She waved to some people, people I recognized from the Willies. A few smiled and waved back, but most just stared in awe. Randall pulled out Fanny's chair for her. They sat on the opposite side of the courtroom. I felt Fanny's eyes on me, but I didn't look her way. I wanted to wish her away, wish her right out of existence. Was this going to be her way to finally bring me down to her level, to air all our shame before the entire town? Oh, Fanny was so jealous of me, still and forever jealous and spiteful and now she had her day to be heard, and I knew she would show me no mercy. And I had done nothing to her! Nothing! She didn't want Drake to be her child; she wanted only to humiliate me.

When the judge, the Honorable Bryon MacKensie, entered the courtroom, everyone stood up and hushed, the Willies men holding their hats in their hands. The judge spread his black robes as he sat down, very elegantly, and scrutinized his large audience. He appeared slightly taken aback by the size of the crowd. He was a highly respected judge in these parts, presiding over many of the society cases and keeping company with senators and statesmen. He was a tall, lanky man with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.

He shuffled through some papers on his desk for a moment and then picked up his gavel and rapped it loudly. "This court is now in session," he intoned.

A few people coughed nervously, but other than that, it was as silent as a funeral parlor.

"I expect this hearing to be conducted in an orderly manner," he began. "The audience will not, I repeat, will rot voice comment, clap hands, or in any way disturb the factual presentations and examination of witnesses. Anyone who does so will be forcibly removed and in jeopardy of being held in contempt of court."