John said he would be in the room to talk with Karissa's lawyer. We were welcome to wait in the hallway. So, when

the other lawyer arrived, I knew who he was right away, because he was accompanied by Karissa.

She was, as usual, dressed to near perfection, in a soft yellow dress, and ridiculously high heeled shoes.

She showed no evidence of nervousness, heading straight towards the bench where I was sitting beside Hannah.

"Hello, Hannah," she said.

"Hello, Karissa," Hannah said.

Karissa turned to me. "Hello, sweetheart." This was said with much more warmth.

I considered ignoring her, but I knew that would be really childish, and not be impressive to the lawyers or a judge. Not to

mention that Adam wouldn't like it. As much as I knew he disliked Karissa, he wouldn't approve of me being openly rude

to a person older than myself.

"Hello," I said, trying to make my voice as impersonal as possible.

Karissa doesn't lack nerve, I had to give her credit for that. She sat down in the spot next to me, on the bench, so

that I was sandwiched in between her and Hannah.

"How have you been?" she asked me.

I had to keep my temper right then. I didn't snap something rude, but I did give a sigh, to let her know that I was annoyed.

"I'm fine," I said. Then childishly, I did add, "I couldn't be better."

"I have something for you in my car," she said.

This time I gave her a direct look. "I don't expect any gifts from you," I said tartly.

"Harlie," Hannah remonstrated, in a soft voice. I knew Hannah's mild protest wasn't because she wanted me to accept a gift from Karissa,

but because of the way that I'd answered.

I stood up, and walked down the long corridor, towards the windows at the far end. I stood there, looking out at the traffic

zooming by down below.

"Hey," said a voice near my elbow, and I turned to see Adam standing there.

"Hey," I answered, turning to face him. Thus, I was able to see Karissa, still sitting beside Hannah on the bench, waving her hands around

and talking.

"Poor Hannah," I said. "I just sort of stuck her with Karissa."

Adam turned to look down the corridor, too. "Hannah's alright. She can handle it."

"Yeah."

We stood there until we were called back down to the room with the long table that we'd started out in. I stayed close to Adam,

and to Brian, too, and made it work out so that I was sitting in between the both of them. Karissa and her lawyer were seated

on the opposite side of the table.

I decided that Adam and Brian had been right about John being a sharp lawyer. He wasted no time in coming to the point about

what I'd said about the drinking and driving. He wasn't dramatic about it. He just stated the facts as I'd told him. And then he ventured

into the part about my perception of Karissa's unpredictability and her erratic behavior.

I kept my face focused on a picture on the wall, so that I wouldn't see the expression on Karissa's face. It wasn't that I cared

about her feelings. I just figured she would be erupting with rage.

And I would have been partially correct. It wasn't rage, but it was that fake-sounding confident voice of hers, the one that

could override anybody else's voice. Right now it was over talking her own lawyer, who was trying to hush her.

But she would not be hushed.

As soon as her lawyer began to speak up, she said, "I don't recall that particular evening that Harlie's talking about. But I do often

have a glass of wine with a meal. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"It was more than one glass," I protested, without thinking.

John shook his head at me, and Adam laid a restraining hand on my leg.

"I think Harlie might have misunderstand some of the things that I said or did. I certainly had no intention of

making her feel uncomfortable," Karissa was droning on.

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, under my breath.

Adam leaned over and whispered, low, in my ear. I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment. I looked at

Adam and he nodded at me. I hesitated a moment longer, looking pleading, but he raised an eyebrow at me, and so

I stood up, and went out of the room as quietly as I could, without even looking at anyone else.

I was embarrassed beyond belief. I was angry at myself, too. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Being sent out of the room

like that. Having Adam say those five words, 'Go sit in the hall', well it was humiliating.

I don't think it had been long. Maybe ten minutes or so, when I heard the door behind me opening and then closing, and

then Adam came to stand beside the wooden bench.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him. "Because I can't keep my mouth shut?"

"I'm not mad. But you can't be in there if you're not in control," he said.

"I'll be quiet," I said, looking up at him. "I promise."

"Alright," he said, and held the door open for me to pass in front of him, back into the room, and we both sat back

down. In the ten or so minutes that I'd been out in the hallway, Karissa had lost some of her starch. She was looking

upset, and irritated at her own lawyer.

"Naturally," John was saying, "This report of drinking and driving, especially the occasions that Harlie was in the vehicle,

are concerning. Would your client be willing to undergo alcohol counseling?"

Before the other lawyer could react, Karissa spoke out. "I certainly will not agree to that. It's absolutely unnecessary."

"The judge might differ with that opinion," John said, calmly putting Karissa in her place.

Wow. It was like watching a tennis match. Back and forth. Back and forth. Except Karissa's lawyer was no match for

ours. John very neatly wrapped everything up by saying, "Of course, even with the counseling that I mentioned, visitation

with her niece is not a given for Ms. Bonner. Harlie has made her wishes known, that she has no desire to reside with her aunt. Even

having the occasional visit isn't something she's currently interested in. And, Mr. Marks, as you're well aware, sixteen is

well past the age where a judge will take the juvenile's wishes into consideration."

"They're not capable of caring for Harlie," Karissa said, with a burst. "They can't give her the life that she deserves."

It took every fiber of control in my arsenal to keep from shouting out, or contradicting her. I pressed my lips together

so tightly that it hurt. A glance at Brian suggested that he was having the same difficulty.

John lifted a file of paper and then let it drift back down. "These papers say otherwise. A report from the Calavaras County

Department of Family Services. Though unconventional, the McFadden family is a proven unit, stable and well able to meet

the needs of both Harlie and her brother, Guthrie."

"That may be what those papers say," Karissa said sharply. "But I'm talking about a far more varied life than what Harlie would

have here. Full of opportunities and a bright future."

I scooted to the edge of my seat. Never before in my life had I ever wanted so badly to scream at someone. Adam put

a hand on the back of my neck. His touch was gentle, but I knew he meant it as, not only a comfort, but also a warning.

John stood up, gathering up all his paperwork, and his briefcase. "We'll see you folks in the judge's chambers," he said, addressing

Karissa and her lawyer. Then he nodded to us, and the four of us stood up as well, and followed him from the room.

"We'll have an audience with the judge after lunch," John said, as the five of us stood in a small circle in the hallway. "Very

informal. We can state our wishes and concerns, and they'll state theirs. The judge will ask some questions, and probably talk to

Harlie a bit, and then we'll be done."

"You think this might do it today?" Brian asked him, hope evident on his face. "Without going on to a formal hearing?"

"That's my hope," John said, not committing.

"But it's possible?" Adam asked, with the same expression on his face that Brian had. Both of them looked so worried, and yet

so hopeful, that I felt my heart squeeze a little.

"It's possible," John said, and then he gave Adam a light slap on the shoulder. "Go. Get some lunch. Plan a celebration."

So we went to lunch, at a fast food place, even though neither Brian or Adam are huge fans of eating

at those places, because that was quicker than a restaurant.

When our hamburgers came, Hannah didn't seem to have much of an appetite, and I knew that I didn't. I was thinking of

what the judge might ask me, and what I'd like to say to him, if I was able to.

"Come on, you two," Adam told us. "Eat. Stop acting as though it's your last meal before you're shot at dawn."

"We're gonna be done with this nonsense today," Brian said, with satisfaction, drinking down the last of his Coke.

"Well, hopefully," Adam said, and I knew that he didn't want me to get my hopes up too high. "Let's not get ahead of

ourselves."

I picked a piece of my hamburger bun off, and ate it. "I wonder," I said, without thinking about it, "what it would be like

to not have this hanging over my head. To not have to worry about it all the time."

I looked up when the table was quiet, to see that all three of them were looking at me, with varied expressions of

concern. Regret. Love.

"Oh, sweetie," Hannah said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "How horrible this has been for you!"

I squeezed her hand in return, and said, "I know it's been real bad for all of you, too. I can see how it's worn you

all down."

I thought privately that it seemed as though Adam had aged in the last few months, but I didn't say that.

"And then I did what I did," I said, taking my straw wrapper and folding it into halves, then fourths, keeping my

eyes on it. "Took off to Daniel's, and made it all worse-"

When I looked up again, they were all still watching me, looking somber and contemplative.

"That didn't help any," Adam agreed, but his voice was kind.

"I want to say again," I began slowly, "that I'm so sorry-and if I could, I'd do things differently-"

"It's done," Adam said. "There's no undoing it."

"We know you're sorry about it," Hannah said.

Brian leaned over from his spot next to me, and put a hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

"And you're never gonna do anything like it again," he said, raising an eyebrow at me. "Right, peach?"

"Right," I said, and he gave me a dig in the ribs that had me turning ticklish.

Brian pulled me down a little, and kissed me on the top of my head. "Because," he said, low, in my ear,

"If you ever did, I personally will retrieve you, and there won't be enough of you left by the time I'm done, to even

worry about grounding."

I squirmed a little at that threat, and he and Adam finished their hamburgers, before we got up to leave.

Back at the courthouse, we went to sit back in the same room that we'd been in before, and where John had told us to wait

at.

We were all quiet, just waiting, and each busy with their own thoughts.

When John stepped into the doorway, and said, "Ready?" to us, we all got up and followed him down the hall to a

room off the corridor, with the name 'Judge Steven B. Hudson' on the door in brass.

John held the door open for us to pass in front of him, and we went in, single-file, Adam and then Hannah, and then me, followed

by Brian and John. Karissa and her lawyer were already seated in chairs on the other side of the judge's desk.

The judge himself was not present in the room yet, and John nodded at us to take the four chairs on the other side of the desk.

"He'll be along in a few minutes," John told us.

So we sat some more. It was quiet in the room, except for the sound of the clock's pendulum swinging on the wall, and then

the silence was interrupted without warning by Karissa, speaking curtly, "All of this could have been avoided, if only you two weren't so

stubborn and narrow-minded."

She meant this, of course, for Adam and Brian. I could see them both tense up, and Adam's jaw set in an angry line. But they

were both quiet, not responding.

I sighed, and Brian reached over to take my hand tightly in his own.

When the door opened, and the judge came into the room, we all stood up.

"Good afternoon," he said, in greeting, to the room in general, and everybody said 'good afternoon' to him collectively.

He did, indeed, just like a television judge, have on a black robe. He was an older man. If I had to, I would judge him to be

about the age that Doc G had been. His hair was dark, with silver on his temple.

When he went behind his desk, and sat down, then we followed John's lead, and sat back down in our chairs.

The judge picked up some papers that were lying in front of him on the desk, and skimmed over them, really quickly, while

the room waited in silence.

"A custody issue," he said, putting the papers down, and taking off his glasses, twirling them in his hands a little. "For

the young lady here, obviously?"

"Yes, Judge," John responded.

"Alright. Well, gentlemen," he said, addressing John and Karissa's lawyer, "Start your engines. Let's begin."

7