Chapter 1 - The Question Nobody Wanted Asked
“Who put their hands on you?”
The question sounded ordinary, but I watched my son react as though Judge Ostrander had reached across the courtroom and seized his collar.
Nathan looked at Trask, then Corinne, and finally at the little white bandage above my eye.
I understood why he couldn't look at me.
He had practiced the story of my falls so many times that he no longer knew how to answer a question that wasn't in his script.
“Before I answer,” I said, “I would like the court to know I object to this petition in its entirety.”
Trask stood.
“Your Honor, the respondent is not represented and may not appreciate the nature of these proceedings.”
“I appreciate them perfectly,” I said.
“My son is trying to take control of my person and my estate by claiming I cannot manage either.”
The judge studied my face.
“That is the substance of the petition, Mrs. Braddock.”
“Then I understand the question.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Corinne.
I wanted Nathan to hear that I could still think clearly, even if he had persuaded himself that being old was a medical diagnosis.
I described the kitchen, Corinne's demand for my password, and the precise way she'd turned my wrist.
I described the hallway wall and the little framed photograph that fell when Nathan shoved my shoulder into the plaster.
When I came to Hal's desk, I had to stop for a moment.
I could see my husband there as plainly as I could see the judge, bent over his ledgers with his reading glasses tipped forward.
“Nathan was going through his father's papers,” I said.
“I tried to stop him, and he pushed me against the desk.”
Trask objected that my allegations were unsupported.
The judge said they were testimony, not a verdict, and allowed me to finish.
Then he did something unexpected.
He asked if I wanted independent counsel before the court proceeded.
“Yes,” I said, “and I would like the lock on my front door preserved as evidence.”
Nathan suddenly leaned toward his attorney.
The judge noticed.
“Mr. Braddock, you'll have an opportunity to respond.”
My son sat back with both hands gripping the edge of the table.
Ostrander announced that he knew me from a professional course years earlier and would address any appropriate recusal request.
I respected him more for saying it in the open.
Trask asked for a brief recess.
The court granted ten minutes.
Nathan passed close enough to whisper as he went out.
“You just made this worse.”
He spoke with his father's voice when he wanted to frighten me, a resemblance I had once found comforting.
I kept my eyes on the papers in front of me.
My own hands were shaking.
I wasn't performing courage for anyone.
I was trying to keep it from abandoning me.
Inside my coat lining was a narrow digital recorder with a broken plastic clip.
Three weeks earlier, Nathan had crushed what he thought was the only copy of a conversation we had in Hal's study.
He didn't know I'd transferred the recording to another device.
And he didn't know that the voice most likely to destroy his petition wasn't mine.
May you like
It belonged to his wife.
