by
Theresa Rizzo
Prologue
Catherine donned her favorite gray knit dress and spritzed Romance perfume on her wrists for confidence. She reached into her jewelry box for her wedding rings, before threading plain gold hoops through her ears to complete the ensemble. With one last peek in the mirror, Catherine checked her makeup before heading down stairs.
In the kitchen, Thomas looked up from his newspaper and smiled. The frank appreciation in his glance should have warmed her, but it only served to make her more nervous. What if he no longer looked at her that way after today?
“You look great.” He pushed back his sleeve to check the gold Seiko. “Ready to go?”
Thomas stood and reached behind the chair. With graceful ease, he shrugged into the pinstripe suit coat and buttoned it. Catherine’s heart squeezed tight at the handsome sight he made all dressed up, thinking she’d never get used to it. This man was hers. They’d been through so much together; could they really survive this morning's ordeal too? Today would be her most painful test, but hopefully it would purge Catherine of the nightmares plaguing her dreams these past ten years.
Lips framing a brave smile, Catherine expelled a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The drive to the Daley center seemed shorter today than the previous weeks. Leaving the shade of the parking garage, they passed the Picasso sculpture guarding the skyscraper. Catherine whipped her head around to stare at the hulking statue, suddenly feeling that the abstract form had taken the shape of a great menacing dragon that would sear her through and through with one quick fiery breath. Frowning, she hurried through the glass door Thomas held open into the safety of the building. As Thomas reached out and punched the black elevator button, Catherine resisted the urge to grab his arm, stopping him. Her heart pounded an unnatural quick rhythm. Run. Run. Run.
Catherine drew in a deep steadying breath. She longed to clench Thomas’ hand, but didn't want to appear pathetic. She could do this. They left the elevator together, walking side-by-side to the courtroom and their destiny. Outside the door, Thomas pulled Catherine to the side and turned her to face him, effectively blocking out the milling press and crowd. Forever her protector. Thomas ducked to look in her eyes. “I wish there was another way.”
Catherine nodded and batted her eyes against the tears stinging her eyelids. She looked away from the concern shining in Thomas’ eyes, to the everyday hustle and bustle of regular people hurrying around the hallway doing their jobs, getting on with their lives. She needed to find the strength to center herself, to create some distance so she could meet the challenge ahead.
With one last deep breath, Catherine faced him and smiled. “Let’s go.”
Thomas held the door open and escorted Catherine to their seats. Sitting absolutely still, she concentrated on her folded hands, blocking out the familiar before-trial routine. She rose and then sat again as the Judge entered the room.
“The defense calls Catherine Whittemore Boyd to the stand.”
In a life riddled with painful endings and bright beginnings too few to count, Catherine Whittemore Boyd sought refuge in routine and simplicity. Ordinarily she would have dreaded the choreographed chaos of a graduation ceremony, but this day she embraced it with a light heart. She should have been exhausted from long nights hunched over text books cramming for finals, but her racing mind made sleep impossible. This was it. The day she'd worked so hard for had finally arrived. Today she would graduate—with honors. Not only had she earned her degree, but more importantly, she'd earned her son.
She slipped into her soft cotton robe and crossed the hall. Paint fumes lingered from her last-minute application of the fluffy white clouds that drifted across the slate-blue walls and ceiling. F-14 Tomcats streaked around and through the puffs, trailing vapor wakes.
The spotless room with its airplane lamp and new furniture smell held an air of expectancy. Crossing to the bookshelf, she knocked over a few stuffed animals. She tossed a Berenstain Bear book onto the desk and another across the bed, pulled out the desk chair and, opening the closet door, tugged the two shirts and worn jean jacket askew. The jacket slid from the hanger to the floor, and she left it where it fell.
She wrinkled the navy comforter before lifting the stuffed Dalmatian she'd bought Drew on their last trip to Disneyland . Hugging the toy close, she sank onto the mattress. That was better. Now it had a more comfortable, messy, lived-in-look. A little boy look.
A boy could fall in love with this room. Hopefully her son would. She pictured Drew lying on his bed, weaving one aircraft fantasy after another, or maybe dumping his Legos on the floor and spending hours creating his own special airplane and play station.
Deep into nostalgia, she allowed herself this rare, brief moment to wish that things were different. If only the past could be erased, and she could look up into the stands and see Thomas by Drew's side, smiling proudly at her as she received her diploma. In her fantasy, both Thomas and her son were joining her in California , as excited as she was about their fresh start.
But fantasies, by definition, didn't deal in reality. Long ago, Catherine learned to suppress such futile longings. Circumstances beyond her control had extinguished many of her dreams—like those of a happily-ever-after with her husband and son, but some were well within her reach. Like Drew. Soft light filtered through the blinds as the sun crested the neighboring houses. Drew was probably in the air right now.
A slow smile spread across her face and she squeezed the stuffed animal tighter. After four long years she would at last be a real mom.
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©2004 Theresa Rizzo. All Rights Reserved.