Private Lives. Karen Young

yet you didn’t require a tutor?”

      “Well…”

      “And you weren’t in trouble with school authorities?”

      “I—”

      “Yes or no, please, Ms. Walker,” Ryan said.

      “No.”

      “Tell us more about yourself today, Ms. Walker. You’re an author?”

      “Yes. I write books for children.”

      “And very successfully, too, according to the recent article in the Chronicle.”

      “I’ve been lucky.”

      “I actually read one of your books last night, the award-winning book. I wouldn’t say it was luck that won you the Newbery, Ms. Walker. That book was very clever, whimsical and fun while delivering a very solid message.”

      “A moral message. I try to do that in each of my books.”

      “It was about a little girl’s difficulties with her school friends—what was her name?”

      “Jasmine.”

      “Jasmine. Because her mother had chosen an…ah, alternate lifestyle. The other kids found that odd and weren’t shy about saying so.”

      “Children can be hurtful.”

      “The main character—Sophia, was it?—befriended Jasmine. Came to her defense at school. Sort of fixed everything for Jasmine, but got in some hot water herself for doing it.”

      “I tried to show how courageous behavior can be rewarding, but you may have to pay a price.”

      “What price will you have to pay for your courage in defending your friend Gina today?”

      “Price?” Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t understand.”

      “The article about you in the Chronicle made clear your aversion to publicity, Ms. Walker. You’re almost a recluse. A hearing such as this is bound to stir up more unwelcome interest in you.”

      “With all due respect, Mr. Paxton, I don’t think the media can have much interest in me.”

      “I did a bit of research into your background after reading that article.”

      Elizabeth felt her heart bump into a faster rhythm. Maude rose. “Objection, Your Honor. Ms. Walker isn’t on trial here today. If Mr. Paxton has a question, let him ask it.”

      With eyes locked on Elizabeth’s, Ryan said, “No one’s on trial here today, Your Honor. I’m within safe legal grounds to question the credibility of Gina D’Angelo’s character witnesses.”

      “Overruled,” the judge said. “But ask a question, counselor.”

      “Are you comfortable knowing the media is in the courtroom, Ms. D’Angelo?”

      Elizabeth glanced beyond him to the sparse gathering of people seated in the spectator area. Several onlookers met her eyes, three women and half a dozen men were scattered here and there. A group of twentysomethings looked on with interest, possibly law school students. “I have no interest in the media,” Elizabeth said quietly.

      “Not even if someone were to question your lifestyle?”

      “Question my lifestyle?” She frowned. “In what way?”

      “You and Gina are very close. You said as much and so did Gina. Exactly how close are you, Ms. Walker? Would you describe your relationship as intimate?”

      “Objection, Your Honor!” Maude said fiercely, surging to her feet.

      “Sustained. Move on, Mr. Paxton,” the judge said, looking mildly irritated.

      “How do you come up with ideas for your books, Ms. Walker?”

      “As most authors,” Elizabeth began, struggling to control the angry tremor in her voice, “I’m an observer of human nature. I read newspapers. I watch television. I read.”

      “The kid in your book is named Jasmine. That’s very close to Jesse. Was there some connection there?”

      Again Maude Kennedy jumped to her feet. “Your honor, I object! Mr. Paxton’s insinuations are scurrilous and have no foundation in fact.”

      “Withdrawn, Your Honor,” Ryan said, unfazed. Going to the defendant’s table, he picked up his notes. “December 24, 2000. Does that date mean anything to you?”

      “Christmas Eve?” Elizabeth guessed, but, again, her heart was beating fast.

      “A couple of years ago,” Ryan acknowledged, nodding. “Tell us what happened that night.”

      “What happens to anyone on Christmas Eve,” Elizabeth replied. “It depends on your family traditions. My Christmases are usually very quiet.”

      “But not that year, right? Didn’t the cops ring your doorbell sometime after midnight? You’d gone to bed, I believe.”

      “Your honor,” Maude Kennedy said, “if Mr. Paxton has anything of substance to add to this hearing, would he please get on with it?”

      Ryan faced the judge. “This is a hearing about Gina D’Angelo’s suitability to gain custody of a five-year-old child. The facts I’m about to elicit from this witness will cast grave doubt on Ms. D’Angelo’s character.”

      “Again,” the judge intoned, “I want you to get on with it, Mr. Paxton. There’s no place in my courtroom for grandstanding.”

      “Understood.” Ryan turned back to Elizabeth. “Where were we, Ms. Walker? Oh, yes. Midnight. Your front door. Cops ringing the doorbell. What was that all about?”

      “Gina had been in an accident. She was—”

      “Drunk?”

      “It’s not the way you make it sound.” Elizabeth’s tone was soft, pained. “Gina and Austin had been at a party. They had a quarrel in front of the other guests. They’d both been drinking. Everybody at the party was drinking, but—”

      “But nobody else stormed out into the night—by the way, it was raining. A downpour. To be more specific, one of our torrential Houston storms. But that didn’t deter Gina as she spun out into the street in Austin’s eighty-five thousand dollar Porsche, did it?”

      “She knew if she got into the car with him he’d become violent,” Elizabeth said fiercely. “He’d done it before.”

      “Well, we have only your speculation about that, don’t we?” Ryan said, giving the judge a droll look. “What we know happened was that she ran onto a neighbor’s curb, knocked down a mailbox, bogged down in a planting of sago palms and incurred substantial damage to the Porsche.”

      “She had to swerve onto the curb to avoid hitting a cat that darted in front of the car!” Elizabeth cried.

      “A cat. In the rain. In a neighborhood with stringent leash restrictions on all animals. Even cats.”

      “Maybe it was a possum,” Elizabeth said, knowing she was being baited. Still, she was doggedly determined to defend Gina. “Maybe it was a raccoon. There’s a stream running behind those houses. Animals are common.”

      “Critters, huh?”

      “Was that a question, Your Honor?” Maude inquired with disgust.

      Striding away, Ryan tossed the notes onto his table and sat down. “I’m finished with this witness, Judge.”

      Elizabeth turned in her chair to look at the judge. “Austin would have hurt her that night, Your Honor. That’s why she took the car. And he would have hurt her even worse if she’d asked a guest at the party to help her. That would have revealed the trouble in their relationship. It would have made public Austin’s cruelty.”

      “Your