Primary Justice

4

BEN CALLED MAGGIE AND asked her to bring in soft drinks. After some minor grumbling and a five-minute delay, she appeared with three cans of Coke Classic. As the sodas were served, small talk replaced the previous serious conversation. Ben could feel the tension in the room diminishing.

“She doesn’t always seem so … unfocused, you know,” Jonathan said. “You should see her when she listens to music. We’ll play a record, and her entire personality changes. She seems completely absorbed.”

“Same thing in church,” Bertha added. “When the organ is playing, and they’re taking communion.”

“She becomes absorbed in the ritual,” Jonathan continued. “She likes helping me garden, too. Seems to like repeating the same act over and over. Makes her feel comfortable.” He sipped from his Coke. “It’s a wonderful thing to see, Mr. Kincaid. All of a sudden, she’s not the restless, lost child you saw a moment ago.”

“I can’t believe you’ve had Emily for almost a year without getting caught up in bureaucratic red tape,” Ben said.

Jonathan and Bertha eyed one another. “Well, when we first found Emily, we reported it to the police, of course,” Jonathan said. He took another swallow of his Coke. “They claimed they made an investigation and to no one’s surprise told us they hadn’t the foggiest idea who she was. They told us to take her to the Department of Human Services. We … uh … forgot.” Jonathan winked in his wife’s direction.

“But even if you were already attached to Emily,” Ben said, “you should have turned her over to the child welfare authorities and then applied to adopt her.”

Bertha shook her head. “What would be the point? Let me tell you something, Mr. Kincaid. I’m fifty-nine years old. Jonathan is sixty-one. We’ve never had children before. They wouldn’t let us adopt a puppy, much less a sweet thing like Emily.”

“And as time went on,” Jonathan added, “we realized just how permanent, how … devastating, Emily’s condition really was. They probably wouldn’t put her up for adoption at all. They’d put her in one of those homes for special children. I’ve heard about what goes on in those homes, Mr. Kincaid. We couldn’t let that happen to our Emily. We just couldn’t.”

Ben frowned. He was hearing damaging information that he knew wouldn’t help their case at an adoption hearing.

“So we kept Emily at home,” Jonathan continued. “Told the few neighbors we know she was the daughter of a mythical niece of Bertha’s in Kansas City. It worked for a while. But you know how neighbors are.” His voice took on a shrill tone. “ ‘Why isn’t little Emily in school? When is that niece from Kansas City coming back for her? Maybe the Adamses are one of those old couples that snatch kids in shopping malls.’ ” He paused. “Eventually, someone called the police.”

Bertha smiled wryly. “We got rid of the nosy Parker with a lot of tea and sincere-sounding balderdash. Or so we thought. I guess our luck couldn’t hold out forever.” Bertha reached down beside her chair and withdrew a long sheet of paper from her purse. “Some rude young man wearing dark sunglasses served this on us last week.”

Ben took the sheet of paper from her. It was a court order commanding Bertha and Jonathan to show cause why Emily shouldn’t be taken from them and placed in the custody of the Department of Human Services. The hearing was set for the following Friday.

While Ben reviewed the order, Greg suddenly burst through his office door.

“Hey, Ben, we’re taking a poll on Marianne’s name—” He saw the Adamses and froze. “Whoops! I didn’t know you had visitors.” He looked mortified.

“Greg,” Ben said, “this is Jonathan and Bertha Adams. Jonathan is a senior vice president at Sanguine Enterprises.”

“Really.” Greg looked awkwardly at Jonathan, then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He turned away hurriedly. “Well, Marianne doesn’t have to commit until lunchtime. I’ll come by later when you’re not busy.” He slunk backward out the door. Ben heard him mutter to. Maggie in the hallway, “Geez, he’s only been here two hours and he’s already talking to clients!”

“Is that young man a lawyer here?” Jonathan asked.

“Strange but true,” Ben said. He returned his attention to the court order. “Everything seems to be in order. The DHS is apparently taking this very seriously.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do, Mr. Kincaid?” Bertha asked.

At last, Ben realized, it was time to try to sound like a lawyer. “Of course we’ll appear at the hearing on your behalf and try to convince the court it would be in the child’s best interests to remain with you. We’ll make a formal request for adoption. Other than that, there’s not much we can do. I’m afraid the procedures for adoptions are rather rigid. And it won’t look good when they tell the court that you kept Emily for a year without reporting to the DHS.” He paused. “The best approach would be to go to court with a consensual adoption. But for that, we’d have to know who her mother or father is and obtain their consent.”

Jonathan inhaled sharply. “Are you sure that’s the only way?”

Ben shrugged. “It’s the only approach that is likely to be successful. Absent consent, we can only make our case and hope for the best. Do you have any idea who Emily’s parents might have been?”

Adams’s face hardened. He seemed to retreat into deep, silent thought. “No,” he said, finally. “No, I don’t.” He took a long time before adding, “But maybe I can work on it.”

Bertha’s brow creased. She looked pointedly at her husband.

“How soon do you need to know something?” Jonathan asked.

“The sooner the better. I’d like to have an affidavit on file with the court before the Friday hearing.”

“All righty. I’ll call you as soon as I have any information.”

Jonathan and Bertha rose to leave. Ben handed the man one of his freshly printed business cards and asked Maggie to bring Emily back to his office.

The little girl seemed in good spirits. “Hello,” she said, looking at Ben. “Have I ever met you before?”

Bertha smiled faintly and took the girl by the hand. The three of them left his office.

Ben plopped back into his chair. The gnawing sensation in his stomach seemed stronger. Why couldn’t he have something normal for his first case here? A simple debt collection case maybe, just to get the ball rolling.

He sighed. He tried to analyze the legal ramifications of the case, but found himself daydreaming about Emily, and wondering what life must be like for her. For Emily, he thought with some admiration, everything was now, this instant, present tense. No memory, no guilt, no regrets. An entire life spent in a fixed moment of time.