Author's Note: Well, after all of the steady updates I have been posting lately, I'm sure you guys have been wondering where I have been this week. Unfortunately, I have been busy for the past few days, and I haven't had the chance to load any updates onto the site. But I'm back now, and I hope you guys will enjoy what is coming next.

As always, please review.

When it Snows

By TheBlueSwan

Chapter 25: The Question of Paternity

Thursday October 21st 2004, Hartford (Winters & Schuster Law Firm) 5:13 p.m.

The day had been a long one. The better part of the afternoon had been spent locked inside a board room with a bunch of old-fudgy-duddies who were so stuck in the past; they couldn't believe that a female lawyer could be good at her job. As far as those old duddies were concerned, Margaret had only ever gotten as far as she had because her great-grandfather had founded the firm, and her father was currently head of it. And so, she had spent the last three hours biting her lip, attempting not to snark at the oh so intelligent old men who dismissed nearly all of her contributions out of hand. Naturally, this was made all the more irksome by the fact that, an hour after she had initially suggested a solution, one of her esteemed male colleagues would put it forth and the others would agree, giving the man full credit for her idea.

One might wonder at her colleagues' logic, and why they themselves did not question the soundness of treating her in such a manner. For, if logic were to prevail, one must naturally assume that Margaret, being Andrew Winters' only child, would take up his mantle sooner or later. Logic, however, was rarely applied in cases strife with prejudice. And so, Margaret had little doubt that many of the old-fudgy-duddies had somehow found a way into deluding themselves that she would be denied her inheritance in favor of one of their male colleagues.

Despite all of this, Margaret had still managed to maintain a positive outlook on the day. And so, as the meeting drew to a close, Margaret had decided to leave work early that day – to go home and enjoy and nice long bath, with a good book and a big glass of merlot. That, of course, was when her secretary had interrupted the meeting and asked Margaret to step out.

"What is it Daisy?" Margaret asked her secretary.

"Mr. Matthew Forester is on the line," Daisy stated grimly, "he said he needed to speak with you right away. That it couldn't wait. He said things have escalated again."

Margaret startled, "What? Escalated? Escalated how?"

Daisy shook her head, "I don't know Miss. Winters. He wouldn't say, only insisted on talking to you immediately."

"Gentleman," Margaret addressed the duddies distractedly, "please, excuse me."

Mr. Harrold grunted, "You're excused," he waved her off dismissively, as if she were his secretary as opposed to his superior.

Margaret, however, was much more concerned with her client at the moment, and so she paid the old fool little notice.

Thursday October 21st 2004, Hartford (Police Station 4) 7:26 p.m.

Sitting in his jail cell, Reginald Lister seethed at the injustice of his present situation. Not only had both he and his precious little girl been arrested on ludicrous charges, but the authorities refused to simply dismiss the charges – this, despite repeated arguments from himself, his wife, his daughter and his lawyer. It was more than enough to wonder what the world was coming to, when all sense of decency appeared to be lost to his fellow man.

But, despite all of these indignities, the most galling one was yet to be had. For, the authorities would not see fit to release him or his daughter until a bail hearing had been had.

A bail hearing!

As if he and his daughter were nothing more than common criminals!

Reginald Lister trembled with rage at the thought. That he would have to pay bail so that the authorities could release them, to their own recognisance, until they faced in court the Foresters' false accusation…

The very idea disgusted Reginald – that these villains could believe that they would get away with such infamous behavior. Oh, when he got his hands on those Foresters…

They would rue the day!

Feeling a sharp tinge of pain in his chest, Reginald decided it would be best to calm himself. Rubbing his aching chest distractedly, he reminded himself that things would not progress so far. Surely, his lawyer would find a way to see these ridiculous charges dismissed. The officers would not be swayed, that much was clear by now. But surely a judge with good acumen would see their situation for what it was – a crude and petty revenge from a shrewd family of wretches.

No.

Reginald Lister had no doubt.

The charges would soon be dismissed. He and his daughter would soon be released. And neither would see a bail hearing any time in their natural life.

Friday October 22nd 2004, Hartford (East Hartford Hospital) 8:02 a.m.

For the second time in under a week, Dean Forester sat in one of the stiff, plastic, orange chairs found in the pediatrics' ward of the hospital. And once again, his fourteen year old sister slept, knocked out on painkillers, in a hospital bed. Seated beside him, his father anxiously fiddled with his watch as they waited for their lawyer to arrive. His mother, Jane, had fallen asleep in her chair after having spent the better part of the night, awake, soothing Clara and crying. To say that she would be angry to learn that they had allowed her to doze off would be an understatement. But she needed the sleep, and this was the only way they could think of to force her to get it.

As the clock struck five past eight, Dean felt himself sinking further and further under the weight of his shame. All of this was his fault – and he knew it all too well. He should have dealt with the Lindsay situation sooner. But he hadn't and there they were – again. Clara's shoulder had needed to be splint once more, but thankfully nothing else had seemed to be affected. Still, the hospital had insisted that she remain there for a week. They said it was because they wanted to make sure no complications arose, but Dean had to wonder if they were insisting on keeping Clara because they were worried she would get hurt again if they released her.

Dean, however, was distracted from his suspicions by the sound of someone knocking on the door of Clara's hospital room. The sound, although unusually soft, still managed to startle Dean. His father, just as surprised, tensed.

"Mr. Forester?" Miss. Winters softly called out.

Recognising the voice of their lawyer, the Forester men visibly relaxed. Turning towards Miss. Winters, they found the woman standing outside the door, looking towards them hesitantly.

Regaining his composure, Matthew Forester quickly stood to greet their guest, "Hello Miss. Winters," he said, whispering.

Dean watched as his father shuffled for a moment, the man's right hand reaching out to rub the back of his neck. Through his father's awkward fidgeting, it was quite clear that the man was at a loss at the situation they now all found themselves.

Dean certainly didn't blame him – for he, himself, was at a loss. Despite what Lindsay claimed, he could not, would not remain married to her. The marriage was not good for him – she was not good for him. And if this week had proven anything, it was that Lindsay and her parents were not good for his family. Though Lindsay claimed to be pregnant, he had not for one second floundered in his decision to divorce her. If she had been indeed pregnant with his child, it would certainly have complicated matters, but he would not have remained married to that woman – not after all that she had done. If the child she carried had been his, he would have sought full custody and insure that the Listers be denied visitation rights. As it was, however, things would never have to come to that.

No, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would divorce Lindsay. Just as he knew that he would remove her from his life insomuch as it would be possible. What he didn't know, however, was how he would accomplish this without any further harm befalling his loved ones.

"I must apologise for making you come all this way," his father continued, sighing, "I know it is not your habit to make house calls, but I am very grateful you were willing to make an exception this time."

"Of course," the blonde answered shakily, her gaze trained upon Clara's sleeping form.

"Please," Matthew gestured to the empty seat across them, "have a seat."

As Miss. Winters made her way across the room, Dean could tell she was trying her best to remain as professional as possible. Still, despite her best efforts, the woman seemed unable to keep her gaze from straying back towards his injured sister. At the sight, her nostrils would flare slightly and a frown would begin to form before she regained control of herself and presented a calmer front.

That Miss. Winters found the state his sister was in upsetting was clear for all to see.

As their lawyer took her seat, his father turned and gently nudged his mother awake. Groaning, Jane Forester hugged the pillow she held tighter and curled into herself. This reaction succeeded in pulling a small smile from his father's lips, but the man remained undeterred. Nudging her once more, Matthew succeeded in gaining his wife's attention. His mother's face scrunched up and she swatted at her husband's hand, making him desist for a moment.

"Jane," his father whispered, "Jane, you need to wake up now."

"Mm?" his mother answered, blearily. Her body shifted and her eyes opened slowly, the lids fluttering for several moments.

Dean knew when reality had regained its foothold upon his mother's mind, for she tensed so suddenly, she looked as if she were made of stone for a moment. Reaching out towards his father, Jane all but shoved the man to the side as she looked around him to gaze worriedly at her daughter. Noting no change in Clara's condition, his mother visibly deflated in relief.

Slowly, Matthew turned to take his seat once more, his hand reaching out for Jane's as he did so. In response, Dean's mother turned her from Clara, taking in Miss. Winters' presence for the first time. She threw the Forester men a scathing glare – and Dean knew they would be in for it later.

"Hello Miss. Winters," Jane greeted the woman.

"Hello Mrs. Forester," Miss. Winters smiled tightly, "it is good to see you again. Although I certainly wish it was under better circumstances."

"Likewise," Dean's mother responded, her smile appearing noticeably broken.

Nodding her head in understanding, Miss. Winters' gaze strayed towards Clara once more. Sighing, the woman shook her head in order to clear her thoughts. Opening up her briefcase, she pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. Turning determinedly towards his parents, Dean's lawyer took a deep breath, "So, Mr. Forester," Miss. Winters began, clearing her throat, "when you called last night, you informed me that things had escalated – that your wife had a confrontation with Mrs. Lister and that Clara's injuries were aggravated as a result. Could you please elaborate on that?"

"Well," Matthew began, looking at his wife cautiously.

Friday October 22nd 2004, Hartford (East Hartford Hospital) 8:09 a.m.

Jane's eyes stung as she answered, "Yes, yes I did."

Biting her lip, she tried to keep herself from crying once more, "We had just returned from having Lunch at Luke's not even a half-hour before Shannon Lister appeared. Clara had been tired, so I had helped her up the stairs and into bed. I was in her room with her when Mrs. Lister began banging against my front door, demanding that I explain myself. Clara," her voice wavered, breaking at this point.

Sniffling, Jane tried to ignore the tears gathering in her eyes. Her husband tightened his hold upon her hand and Jane couldn't help but to lean towards him, to gain comfort from his presence. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself the resume, "Clara wanted me to call the police. But I was angry," Jane said, her voice thick with emotion, "I wanted to look Shannon in the eye and tell her exactly what I thought of her daughter and husband. I shouldn't have," she cried, "I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself."

Jane let out a sob as Matthew handed her the tissue box, now nearly empty from all the tears she had shed over the night. Wiping her tears away, Jane continued, "You should have seen her – heard her," Jane hissed, "As far as Shannon Lister was concerned, we were the ones in the wrong."

Jane shook her head, sniffling, "According to Shannon, Mr. Lister and Lindsay did not attack Clara. Clara attacked Lindsay and then Mr. Lister intervened," she laughed derisively, "And she kept insisting that we drop our false charges…"

Wiping angrily at several stray tears, she shook her head, trying to clear it, "I just got so mad!" Jane pleaded, "That she could lie like that, when my daughter was bruised from head to toe," she sobbed, "So I told her. I told her what I thought of her lies. And, in my anger, I even told her that Dean had caught Lindsay cheating on him. And that was when she threw herself at me!"

"I feel like such an idiot," Jane fiddled with her Kleenex, "Clara," she began, "Clara must have realised what would happen and when I fell backwards, she just," Jane sobbed, "She tried to catch me. But I just wound up falling on top of her. And now…" she broke off, heartbroken.

Friday October 22nd 2004, Hartford (East Hartford Hospital) 8:13 a.m.

"I see," Miss. Winters nodded, her voice strained.

"What can be done about this?" Matthew asked, "Can charges be filed?"

The lawyer sighed, "Charges can be filed, but I'm afraid that, in the case of Mrs. Lister, not much can be done."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Well," Miss. Winters began, sighing, "although Mrs. Lister did attack your mother – she never actually touched Clara. So, although she was a contributing factor in aggravating your sister's injuries, she cannot be held accountable for them. We can charge her with assault against your mother. But given that she has no injuries, save a few scratches, Mrs. Lister will unlikely get more than a slap on the wrist. I'm afraid that all we can do is to have a restraining order issued against her."

"But I thought we already filed for restraining orders?" Mr. Forster asked, frustrated.

"Against Mr. Lister and Lindsay?" the lawyer clarified, "yes, you did. And they were granted because Mr. Lister and Lindsay had given the judge cause to worry that you might physically be in danger. But as Mrs. Lister had never had a physical altercation with any of you prior to yesterday afternoon, I could not file a restraining order against her."

The Forester stared at each other, angry and disappointed with the outcome of the meeting.

"So," Matthew sighed heavily, "all we can do is file a restraining order and hope the Listers follow it?"

"I'm afraid so," Miss. Winters said regretfully, "but the orders against Mr. Lister and Lindsay were served yesterday afternoon. So, if at any time either one come within fifty feet or less of you, you need to file a complaint with the police immediately."

"The orders were served yesterday?" Dean asked, "When?"

Frowning, Miss. Winters answered, "Just prior to their arrest by the Hartford PD. Why?"

Dean sighed dejectedly. He had known it would be a long shot – but he had still hoped it could work.

"Dean? What is it son?" his father asked, confused.

Dean crossed his arms and bit his lip. He hadn't told them that he'd had a confrontation with Lindsay yesterday. Clara had been hurt again and they'd had more important things to worry about. And he hadn't exactly been eager to announce Lindsay's news, even if he felt fairly confident about the situation.

Looking down at his lap, Dean answered, "After you guys left Luke's yesterday, Lindsay found me. She shoved me and started yelling at me."

"Dean," his mother hissed, her reprimand clear in her tone.

"I know, okay," Dean whined, "but with Clara back in the hospital, it just didn't seem all that important at that moment."

"Not that important?" his father scowled, "Son, you should have told us."

Groaning, he conceded, "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well," Miss. Winters, "As important as all of this is, I think we should focus our attention upon the most pressing matter. What exactly happened yesterday?"

Dean sighed, "Mostly she just blamed me for everything – said that I didn't care about her, that I was a jerk and all that. She made me out to be the bad guy, as always, skewering the truth to fit her own ends. Lindsay, like Mrs. Lister, even said that Clara had attacked her and that Mr. Lister had only intervened for fear of her safety…" Dean trailed off, biting his lip.

Knowing that her son was holding something back, Jane prodded, "And?"

"And," Dean began, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "she said she was pregnant."

At the news, his parents reared back. Miss. Winters, however, seemed caught between incredulity and anger at the situation. Dean figured it was because she was worried that a custody battle might complicate her job more than just a little bit.

The full weight of the situation dawning on him, Matthew Forester swore profusely. Jane Forester, however, simply sat in her chair, staring blankly ahead of her, her face ashen. Clara, thankfully, remained entirely oblivious to the situation, caught within Morpheus' web as she was.

"Would you just all calm down for a second," Dean hissed at his parents, reaching his wits end.

"Calm down?" his father spat, incredulous, "son, do you realise what this means?"

"Yes, Dad," Dean answered derisively, "I know what it means. It means that Lindsay got herself knocked up by that guy she's been having sex with."

"Dean?" his mother asked, pleading.

But before he could answer, Miss. Winters cut in, "Hold on," she said frowning, "your wife actually admitted to being pregnant with another man's child?"

"No," Dean snorted derisively.

"Then," the lawyer began, her frown deepening.

"She didn't have to tell me it wasn't mine," Dean cut Miss. Winters off, "I guess that, in all the commotion, Lindsay lost track of things," he stated derisively.

"What do you mean Dean?" his mother asked, her tone anxious for a sliver of hope to grasp at.

"I mean that, for months now, things have been really bad with Lindsay and I. She'd pick a fight every other day, banishing me from the apartment one night and ignoring me the next," Dean sighed.

"And?" his father prodded, unimpressed.

"And," Dean began, his face turning red. He had really hoped he wouldn't have to spell it out to them, "As a result, our sex life suffered quite a bit. So much so, in fact, that I can tell you exactly when I last had sex with Lindsay."

His parents just stared at him, expressions mixed with disgust, frustration and confusion and Dean knew he would have to bring things to a point, "We haven't had sex since Lindsay found out I was still talking to Rory."

Their frowns held fast for one long moment, before comprehension began to dawn. The two shared a look with one and other, wanting to verify that they had reached the same conclusion.

"I'm sorry," Miss. Winters interjected, confused, "and this affects the situation how?"

Dean smiled for the first time of the day, "Lindsay found out that I was still talking to Rory in the middle of April. If the baby were mine, she would be over six months pregnant. Even if she was one of those girls that don't expand much during pregnancy, I think it's safe to say that her condition would still be fairly obvious by now. And even if, by some miracle, she happened to be over six months pregnant now, I'm pretty sure she would have told me a few months back. It would have, in Lindsay's mind, given her the leverage she needed to force me to buy the townhouse she wanted. In fact, I'm guessing that's why she told me she was pregnant. She's probably expecting me to come back crawling on my knees, begging her forgiveness."

Jane laughed, sobbing at the same time. Unable to find the words to express how relieved and happy she was at the news, the woman simply launched herself at her son. Startled, Dean suddenly found himself being smothered by an unruly mane of red hair. Matthew Forester, in contrast, simply chuckled and grabbed a hold of his wife's waist, less the woman he loved accidentally slid off his lap and landed upon the floor.

"Well," Miss. Winters smiled, "that is good news. You will, however, most likely have to undergo a paternity test. Especially if your wife insists that the child is yours."

"I can live with that," Dean laughed.

The lawyer nodded her head, glad that her client would co-operate. The levity of the moment, however, quickly passed her under the reality of the situation her client faced. Margaret Winters was loathed to intrude upon this happy moment, especially since the Forester family seemed to have had so few good breaks as of late, but she felt it her duty the ensure that her client understood the difficulties he still faced, "You should know, however, that whether or not you test negative for the test, you will still be put under scrutiny. Part of it will be due to the fact that judges tend to like to see people squirm. But the better part will be because, despite the fact that your wife is most likely carrying another man's child, she is still your wife. And as result, there could still be consequences. Although alimony may be waved in cases in which the lesser-earning spouse is considered to be at fault for the end of the marriage, the judge may still issue it. For example, if the judge learns of your own infidelity, he may feel that Lindsay is entitled to her fair share, especially if it is proven that you strayed first. It will all depend on the judge – and the lawyer the Listers will hire. It will be his or her job to discredit you, to make Lindsay out to be the victim of an unequal or abusive marriage."

Posted December 15th 2017