Maisy
“This chair is uncomfortable,” Dad grumbled.
“Mine has a squeak. See?” Behind me, Mom wiggled her chair so hard the wooden legs clacked on the floor and the squeaking—which hadn’t been all that noticeable earlier—echoed throughout the room.
I opened my mouth to scold my parents but Beau beat me to it. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” Dad muttered at the same time Mom stilled. “We’re just nervous.”
Nervous. Jittery. Edgy.
There wasn’t a word strong enough to describe my level of anxiety. I was coming out of my skin.
Sitting in the small room at the county courthouse, I drummed my fingers on the wooden table in front of me. Stuart was on my right. Mom, Dad, Beau and Sabrina were in the row behind us. Jess, Gigi and Michael were behind them. There was only one empty seat on my half of the courtroom.
The seat where Hunter’s perfect butt was supposed to be sitting.
I glanced over my shoulder, looking at the door for the hundredth time in the last half hour. Where was he? He was never late. Was he mad because of this morning?
Hunter had tried earlier to—once again—unload whatever was on his mind about his past. And—once again—I’d dutifully shut him out. I’d kissed his pleading lips good-bye and shut the door on his face. Whatever he had to tell me could wait until after the hearing. Whether it was about his family or an ex-girlfriend or our relationship, it could wait.
Coby’s hearing came first.
But even if Hunter was mad, he could at least be here on time.
I sighed and turned back to the front, taking in the other half of the room. Eleanor Carlson’s side was barren. The devil herself, her witnesses and her attorney had yet to arrive.
I glanced up at the white clock on wall behind the judge’s bench: 8:50 a.m. The hearing would start in ten minutes and the key players had yet to arrive, including the judge. The only other person in the room was a stenographer setting up her machine at the front. Didn’t the others believe in being prompt? Was there anything wrong with starting things a few minutes ahead of schedule? Because if this hearing didn’t start on time, the chances of me flipping out completely were really, really high.
But at least I wouldn’t be alone when I went berserk. I could feel Dad’s tree trunk of a leg bouncing on the floor and Mom was squirming in her squeaky chair again.
“Where is Hunter?” Mom whispered.
I just shrugged. Good question. Where was Hunter?
“He’ll be here,” Stuart told Mom.
I turned to look at the wooden doors again, wishing for one to open with Hunter on the other side. He was my calming presence, my steady hand to hold, and I desperately needed some steady right now.
Open. Open. Open.
I stared at the doors for another second as I willed them to open, but the dark mahogany stayed shut.
Turning back to the front, I surveyed the décor for the twentieth time. Was it a requirement that all courtrooms be decorated in wood and only wood? Was it supposed to be comforting and calming? If so, it was having the opposite effect on me. I felt trapped in this wooden chair behind this wooden table in this wooden room.
Dark paneling covered the walls from floor to ceiling. The judge’s oak bench towered above us. The wooden seat at his side was bracketed by wooden spindles. The only thing in the room that wasn’t wooden was the freshly waxed linoleum floor, which shined under the florescent lights above.
I was smack in the middle of an episode of Law & Order.
“Deep breaths.” Stuart covered my hand with his to stop my drumming fingers.
I obeyed, filling my lungs with air before pushing it out with a breathy, “I’m sorry.”
“It will be fine. Trust me.”
I nodded, and when he let go of my hand, I slipped it under my thigh.
The air shifted as the doors pushed open and my half of the room spun to see who was walking in. Please be Hunter. My hopeful gaze turned to an annoyed glare when Eleanor Carlson stepped through the door, followed by her attorney. I looked past the short, balding man, expecting to see a witness or two, but the pair was alone.
No witnesses? I wouldn’t complain. No witnesses for her was a good thing for me.
Because without witnesses and evidence showing I was unfit to parent Coby, it would be Eleanor’s word against mine. Judge Tubor might be less likely to give her time with Coby if she came across as the bitch she clearly was.
Eleanor’s high heels clicked sharply on the linoleum as she strutted to the front of the room. Her black blazer and pencil skirt silhouetted her rail-thin frame. The top button on the black blouse under the blazer had to be choking her. With dark hair tied in a fierce bun, the fine lines of her forehead had been stretched to near invisibility. I’d give Eleanor one thing; she was a beautiful woman. She looked well younger than her years and clearly had the money to maintain herself. Her nose had a stiffness that was far from natural.
With her chin held high, Eleanor walked to her table opposite ours. Only when she sat did she bother making eye contact. She aimed a nasty glare right at me before sitting in her own wooden chair.
That glare was all too telling.
I’d come to a conclusion after our initial court appearance and our awful mediation attempt. This custody battle wasn’t about Coby, it was about me. Eleanor Carlson was punishing me for killing her son. I just hoped—for Coby’s sake—that Judge Tubor saw it too. My son didn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in this war between adults.
As Eleanor’s attorney settled into his own chair, I looked back to the clock.
Five minutes.
Five minutes and this ordeal would be underway.
Five minutes for Hunter to get his ass to the courthouse.
Where was he? Had something happened at the hospital? Had he gotten called in for an emergency?
I bent to my purse under the table and felt around for my phone. The screen was blank. Firing off a Where r u? text to Hunter, I quadruple-checked that my device was on silent before putting it away.
Then I sat deathly still. The silence in the room was ominous. I was having trouble taking a full breath, and as much as I needed to suck in some oxygen, I didn’t dare. Breathing would be too loud.
Two minutes passed like twenty until the judge’s chamber door opened behind his bench and out he came.
This was it. The wait was over.
I swallowed down the bile that had risen in my throat and concentrated on the judge so I wouldn’t puke.
Judge Tubor was an older man, likely in his late fifties, and had lived in Prescott my whole life. His hair was fully gray but his youthful face betrayed his age. The olive skin of his face was nearly wrinkle-free except for some laugh lines around his eyes.
He’d been the district judge for Jamison County for as long as I could remember. Our community loved him and no challenger had ever been able to beat him in an election. He’d always won my vote because of his fair but firm judgments, but if he took Coby away from me, I’d never vote for him again.
“Morning.” Judge Tubor nodded to us all and then sat on his bench, adjusting his black robe before shoving on reading glasses to review the papers at his desk.
With the judge not looking at us, I stole one last glance at the back doors just in time to see Hunter’s broad frame slip in sideways.
Finally. My shoulders relaxed as I sighed.
“Sorry,” he mouthed before taking the last empty seat at the back.
I nodded and swiveled toward the front. As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Eleanor glaring again. But this time, her snarl wasn’t aimed at me, but at Hunter.
Okay, weird.
A twinge of unease pricked the back of my neck but I ignored it when the judge started speaking again.
“All right. Let’s get started.” He nodded down to the stenographer, whose fingers started flying as she dictated every word of Judge Tubor’s legalese. He kicked off the proceedings with a summary of the custody petition and the activities he’d mandated during our first appearance.
“It is my understanding that no agreement between Ms. Carlson and Ms. Holt could be reached outside of court. Correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Eleanor’s attorney and Stuart answered in unison.
“Okay.” Judge Tubor looked up from his notes and took the reading glasses off his face. “Then I’ll be rendering a custody decision this morning. Ms. Carlson, since you are presenting this petition, we’ll start with you. I’ll ask you some questions and then you’ll have the opportunity to present witnesses on your behalf.”
Eleanor and her attorney both nodded.
Then the judge looked to me and my posse. “Once Ms. Carlson has presented her statement and witnesses, Ms. Holt, you’ll have the chance to respond and present witnesses of your own.”
Stuart and I both nodded.
The judge leaned forward. “Before we start, I’d like to remind you all that my concern is and will remain with the child. My decision will be made in order to provide the best possible environment to ensure the child is given every possible opportunity to thrive.”
I did my best to keep my face impassive, but with every “the child,” my jaw clamped tighter. Judge Tubor knew my family. He went to our church. His wife helped my mom organize potluck Sundays. And he knew Coby. Calling my son “the child” was impersonal and did nothing to ease the ball of tension in my gut.
“With that understood, let’s begin,” Judge Tubor declared. “Ms. Carlson, your petition is fairly uncommon for a grandparent. You’re seeking six months of full custody with limited visitation during that time from the child’s mother. You have no evidence suggesting Ms. Holt is an unfit parent. Can you explain why you feel you need to have the child for such an extended period of time away from his home?”
The child. Seriously?
“Your Honor, I feel that my grandson would do well living with me for a good portion of the year. It would give us a chance to bond and catch up on all of the years I’ve missed because he’s only been with his mother.”
I swallowed a growl. This missing “bond” was entirely Eleanor’s doing. She could have reached out years ago. Shipping my son to Michigan was not the answer.
“Why do you feel that living with you in Michigan is the only way for you to catch up?” the judge asked, as if reading my thoughts. “Couldn’t you plan more visits here so as to not interrupt Coby’s home life?”
“I think the separation is necessary,” Eleanor answered. “I need him to be away from her so that I can be sure my grandson is getting a proper moral upbringing.”
Proper moral upbringing? I nearly came out of my chair and would have if not for Stuart’s hand landing on mine. Mom was getting worked up too because behind me, her chair started squeaking again.
I shook my head as I clamped my mouth shut.
Eleanor Carlson was nuts. She thought she could teach my son a proper moral upbringing? Her own son had become a drug dealer and had thought killing innocent women was acceptable.
Before I could mutter a sarcastic retort about her own parenting skills, Judge Tubor continued. “Ms. Carlson, you’re suggesting that Ms. Holt is unfit to raise Coby yet you have no evidence proving she isn’t providing him a proper home. The child psychologist has sent me her report, and by all accounts, Coby is a happy and well-adjusted child. The parenting plan you’re proposing would cause an extreme disruption to his home life. Why should I grant your request when you haven’t given me any reason to take Coby from his mother for six months out of the year?”
I leaned forward to stare at Eleanor’s profile. She was floundering a bit, her brown eyes widening as she looked to her attorney for an answer.
I smirked at her lack of an answer. Had they given no thought to the questions the judge would ask? Had she not practiced answer after answer in her bathroom mirror like I had? Did she honestly think she’d just waltz in here and get custody of Coby without proving she deserved it?
Maybe I’d spent the past month worrying for nothing. Maybe Eleanor wasn’t just crazy, but stupid too.
Eleanor’s attorney final spoke up. “Your Honor, if I may—”
“You may not.” The judge shut him down. “I’d like Ms. Carlson to answer the question.”
Eleanor straightened and cleared her throat. “I don’t have specific evidence that she is an unfit mother. What I do know is that woman knew nothing about my son. If I don’t get the chance to get Coby away from her, he’ll never have the opportunity to learn about his father. He’ll be brainwashed into thinking my wonderful Everett was a monster.”
“I have never, not once, said anything derogatory about Everett to Coby.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think them through.
The judge’s eyes sliced to mine and he frowned.
I shrank back into my chair. “Sorry.”
“You’ll get your chance, Ms. Holt.” Judge Tubor dismissed me and went back to Eleanor.
“Keep it together,” Stuart whispered, patting my hand.
I nodded and took a breath.
“Ms. Carlson,” the judge continued, “this petition seems like an extreme solution to your concerns that he won’t learn about his father. I’d like to know why you couldn’t spend time teaching Coby about his father while he remained in his home.”
“I can’t be around that woman.” Eleanor’s snap surprised us all; the collected façade she’d brought into the courtroom was falling to pieces and fast. We’d only been here ten minutes and already she was crumbling?
“Why is that?” the judge asked, still pressing for more.
“Why do you think? She murdered my son!”
At Eleanor’s outburst, Mom gasped and I jerked in my chair. Eleanor might as well have slapped me.
The worst part of it was, I didn’t have a rebuttal.
I had killed Everett. I hadn’t murdered him in cold blood, but I had taken her son’s life. And even though I hated her, I could see how hard it would be for Eleanor to be in the same room with me.
“Let’s all take a minute,” the judge said calmly. “I understand this is an emotional situation, but remember, we’re doing this for Coby. I agree with you, Ms. Carlson, that the best way for him to learn about his father is from someone who knew him well. As Coby’s grandmother, your influence could be very beneficial in his life and help him make a connection to the memory of his father.”
Over my dead body. The last thing Coby needed was to be introduced to Everett’s memory.
“Thank you.” Eleanor sniffled and dabbed the corner of her eye. Maybe she wasn’t as frazzled as I’d thought a second ago. Maybe this was all part of her plan. Fake dramatics. Shed some tears. Get the judge to pity her.
He wasn’t buying it, was he?
No. Oh god, no. My heart raced even faster as the blood drained from my face. Just the idea of Coby being around Eleanor sent my head spinning.
If Eleanor sank her claws into Coby, she’d do nothing but confuse him. She’d paint Everett as the brilliant yet misunderstood genius doctor and me the slut nurse that had gotten knocked up and then committed murder. Coby would never understand. My loving, caring, gentle little boy was about to be put in the middle of a situation most adults would have a hard time comprehending.
Please, Judge Tubor. Please don’t do this to him.
He sat on his bench, ignorant to my silent pleas. “Do you have anything else you’d like to say before we start talking to witnesses?” he asked Eleanor.
She shook her head. “No, Your Honor.”
“All right. You may proceed with calling your witnesses.”
Her attorney cleared his throat. “We have no witnesses at this time, Your Honor.”
The judge’s eyebrows creased. “None?”
“No, Your Honor,” her attorney answered.
Yes! I did a tiny fist pump for the Holts.
“All right.” The judge looked over to me but before he could start his questioning, Hunter’s voice filled the room.
“Your Honor?” I spun my head around. Hunter was on his feet, an arm raised. “I apologize for the interruption. My name is Dr. Hunter Faraday. I am Ms. Carlson’s stepson and would like to say a few words, if you don’t mind.”
Wait, what did he say?
Hunter’s eyes came to mine as I replayed his words.
I am Ms. Carlson’s stepson.
Stepson? My heart plummeted into my stomach as my mouth fell open, the words looping through my mind over and over.
What the actual fuck was happening?
Hunter was Eleanor’s stepson? Was that what he’d been trying to tell me? Because if it was true, that meant he had known Everett.
All this time.
And he’d tried to tell me, but I’d shut him out.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was sit and stare at the man in the back of the room who had just shocked me to the core.
“Dr. Faraday, please come forward.”
My eyes tracked Hunter as he obeyed the judge’s command. I couldn’t look away. In my periphery, Beau was fuming, Mom had been stunned into silence, and Dad’s wounded eyes were locked on me. But I just kept my gaze locked on Hunter.
The man I loved. The man who had been lying to me for months. The man who had tried to confess just this morning.
“Please, take a seat.” The judge nodded to the chair at his side. “I think I’d like to hear what you have to say.”
“That makes two of us,” Dad muttered.
“Deep breath,” Stuart whispered. “This is a good thing.”
My eyes snapped to my attorney. Stuart knew. When Hunter couldn’t tell me, he’d told Stuart instead.
I closed my eyes as a mix of emotions made me dizzy. I was hurt. I was angry. I was a fool. Never in a million years would I have expected this to be Hunter’s big secret. Never. Now I really wished I’d let him explain.
When I opened my eyes, they went straight to Hunter. He sat, solemn, in the front of the room, his pleading eyes begging for a chance to explain.
No. I didn’t want his explanation. He might have been trying to give me one recently, but he’d had months before this custody drama to come clean. Yet he’d stayed quiet. Anger beat out the other emotions and blood roared in my ears. I gave Hunter the tiniest headshake and ripped my gaze away, not daring to look at him, otherwise I’d scream.
I sat frozen in my wooden chair and listened, my eyes glued to the stenographer’s flying fingers as my own gripped the armrests of my chair with as much force as I could muster.
“Okay,” the judge said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Hunter nodded. “As I said, Eleanor Carlson is my stepmother. And full disclosure, I am in a relationship with Maisy Holt. We’ve been dating for around three months, not long after I moved to Prescott.”
And in all that time, he hadn’t bothered to mention he knew exactly who Coby’s father was.
My teeth gritted hard as Hunter’s gaze raked over my face but I refused to tear my gaze from the stenographer. I was barely holding on to my emotions, and if I looked at Hunter, I’d lose it. Coby couldn’t afford to have me lose it.
I swallowed a dry laugh. How ironic. I’d been thinking lately how wonderful it would be if Hunter might become Coby’s father one day. I didn’t need to worry about that though, because he was technically Coby’s uncle.
My heart kept sinking as other questions swamped my mind. Had our relationship been a ruse? Was this all part of Eleanor’s evil plan to take my son? Had Hunter been playing me all this time?
The pain was getting the best of me and my chin quivered. Doing the only thing I could think of to stop the angry tears from welling, I pinched my leg. Hard. Now was not the time to think about Hunter’s betrayal. I could process that after I knew the fate of my child.
As the sting in my leg burned, Hunter’s voice faltered, and I couldn’t help but look up at him. His mouth was turned down in a sad frown.
He’d seen that pinch.
“Dr. Faraday, are you speaking on Ms. Carlson’s behalf today or on behalf of Ms. Holt?” Judge Tubor asked.
“Actually, I’d like to speak on Coby’s behalf today.”
One sentence and all of my anger vanished in one hot tear rolling down my cheek.
Hunter loved Coby. The entire wooden room echoed with that love in his voice.
Which only made his lies hurt that much more. The fleeting thought that this could all be a ruse flittered right out of my mind. Hunter might have betrayed me, but he was staying true to Coby.
At least there was that.
“I met Coby about four months ago when I met Maisy,” Hunter said. “In that time, I’ve had the honor of spending time with him. He’s a remarkable child. He’s got his father’s intelligence. And his mother’s heart.”
My fortitude wavered. Hunter’s eyes, full of regret and apology, were waiting for mine. His shoulders tensed before he glanced at Eleanor.
“Your Honor, if your concern is introducing Everett to Coby, I will ensure that happens. But I can’t in good conscience keep quiet about Nell’s character. Coby would not benefit from spending time in Michigan.”
Nell?
The judge asked the same question.
“Nell, her preferred name,” Hunter clarified.
Eleanor was Nell.
The blows kept coming and I sank, defeated, into my stiff chair. I had asked Hunter specifically about Nell and he’d shut me out. That would have been the perfect opportunity for him to come clean.
“Let’s hear about these character issues,” the judge said.
Hunter nodded. “Coby needs love and affection. He’s no different than any other child. Nell doesn’t have it in her to give him the love he needs. It’s just not part of her makeup. Nell married my father when I was ten, and in the twenty-four years that I have known her, she has not once given me a hug. She’s never made me a meal or told me that she cares. All of those things, those motherly things that Coby gets from Maisy, will be entirely absent in the time he spends with Nell.”
As wrecked as I was that Hunter had kept his secrets, my heart still felt sad for his childhood. His mother had died too young. His father had had to cope with the loss of his wife. Hunter had gotten stuck with a cold stepmother and Everett as a stepbrother.
But he’d lied. I couldn’t forget that.
“Coby is a happy child, Your Honor,” Hunter continued. “Separating him from his mother would only cause stress in his young life. If Eleanor had been more loving in my youth, I’d agree that a grandmother’s influence could be beneficial for Coby, but I don’t think that is the case here.”
The room went silent as Hunter’s last words rang through the room. Everyone sat motionless, digesting his statement.
Moments later, Judge Tubor broke the air. “Would you like to respond, Ms. Carlson?”
Eleanor stared shocked at Hunter, blinking a few times as she formulated her response. “My chef makes delicious meals and the boy would have an excellent nanny for the other parts.”
“Coby,” Hunter said. “Not ‘the boy.’ His name is Coby.”
Surprised turned to hate and her face twisted in a snarl. “I hate that name. If she hadn’t murdered Everett, he’d have a decent name.”
Every Holt in the room gasped.
“I apologize, Your Honor,” Eleanor’s attorney spoke up after shushing his client.
“It would be in your best interest, Ms. Carlson, to leave your opinions about your son’s death out of these proceedings.”
“Of course,” her attorney answered.
“Do you have anything else you’d like to add, Dr. Faraday?” the judge asked.
Hunter shook his head and nodded to Stuart. “No. Thank you for the opportunity to speak.”
“You’re excused.”
Hunter nodded and rose from his chair. As he walked past me, I studied the table until he’d returned to his seat. When I looked up, Judge Tubor was staring at Eleanor’s attorney.
“Do you have other witnesses?”
The bald man shook his head.
“Okay.” Judge Tubor looked to Stuart. “Mr. Redhill. You may proceed with your witness statements.”
“Before we jump into witness statements, Your Honor, I’d like to bring something else to your attention.”
What? What else was there besides our witnesses? When were we going to run out of goddamn surprises? I opened my mouth but clamped it shut when Stuart shot me a quelling look.
He pulled a small stack of papers out from underneath his legal pad and stood, taking them to the judge. “Your Honor, my client and I are very concerned about Ms. Carlson’s history of harassment.”
Harassment? What was he talking about?
“In the last few months, Ms. Carlson has made an extreme number of calls to Ms. Holt. As you can see in those records that Sheriff Cleary received last night, the number registered to Ms. Carlson has called Ms. Holt’s number at least once a day for a period of nearly two months. She asked Ms. Holt about her son’s death, to which Maisy did not respond.”
My head was spinning again. Eleanor, not a reporter, had been calling me all spring? Eleanor averted her guilty eyes from her red-faced attorney.
“As she’s demonstrated today,” Stuart continued talking to the judge, “Ms. Carlson has little reverence for Ms. Holt. These obsessive phone calls are nothing but harassment. We believe that Ms. Carlson is seeking these extended, unsupervised periods with Coby to alienate him from his mother.”
The judge frowned as he kept inspecting the phone records. When he set them down, he leaned his elbows on his desk.
“Ms. Holt, would you be opposed to allowing Ms. Carlson supervised visits with Coby once a month?”
I shook my head. “No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Ms. Carlson, I am denying your request for split custody. I will award you one weekend visit per month with Coby. Location, supervision and duration of those visits will be determined by Ms. Holt. Any questions?”
Eleanor started to speak but her attorney held out a hand. “No questions.”
“Mr. Redhill?”
“No,” Stuart said. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Then this matter is closed and adjourned.” He rapped his gavel on its block and stood, looking down at the stenographer. “Ended early. Let’s hope the rest of the day stays on schedule too.” Then he hastened back to his chamber.
The second his door closed, Eleanor, followed by her attorney, stood from their table and stormed toward the door. She yanked it open but paused to sneer at Hunter. “Your father would be ashamed of you for betraying me.”
“Good-bye, Nell” was his only response.
She left the courtroom, and if my lucky streak continued, she’d be gone from Montana before dark.
Stuart breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung shut. “Battle won.”
As I stood from my seat, a wall of large bodies formed in the row behind us. Dad, Beau, Michael and Jess were all standing shoulder to shoulder. I couldn’t see their faces with their backs to me, but I knew they weren’t smiling.
And past them was Hunter. He was looking right through them to me.
Stuart had been right. We’d won one battle.
But there was about to be another.