The Family Tree. Barbara Delinsky

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The Family Tree - Barbara  Delinsky


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a responsibility.

      There were a few diminishing sobs, then, ‘Mama? Please don’t hang up. Mama?’

      Not his business, Hugh told himself. Especially not now.

      Tossing the last of his coffee into the bushes, he rose from the bench. Rather than heading back into the hospital, though, he rounded the hedge and entered the garden.

      The woman was doubled over on a bench similar to the one he had been sitting on. He could see denim legs, the back of a slim-fitting tee shirt, and an unruly mass of auburn hair. A pair of stubbed cigarette butts lay in front of her sneakers.

      ‘Excuse me?’ he said.

      Startled, she lifted her head. Her left eye strayed, but her right held his. Both were red.

      Gently, he said, ‘I was sitting on the other side of the bushes and overheard your call. I may be able to help.’

      She wiped her eyes with fingers that shook. ‘By hitting on me?’

      He smiled. ‘No. I’m married. My wife just had a baby. But I’m a lawyer. It sounds to me like you have a father who is denying paternity of his child.’

      ‘You had no right to listen in on my call.’

      ‘You weren’t exactly whispering. That father does have a legal responsibility. I know. I’ve handled paternity cases.’

      She gave him a dismissive once-over. ‘You don’t look like a lawyer.’

      ‘Like I said, my wife just had a baby. Literally. We’ve been up all night. I don’t look like this when I’m going to court.’

      She choked out a humorless laugh. ‘If I can’t pay my boy’s medical bills, how can I pay a lawyer?’

      ‘When I find a worthy case, I don’t charge.’

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ She stood. She was tall – five nine, he guessed – and that one direct eye leveled him a cynical look. ‘Right.’ She stuffed her phone in the small pocket at the front of her jeans and turned to retrieve a worn canvas pouch.

      Taking his wallet from his own jeans, he pulled out a business card.

      She didn’t take it.

      Undaunted, he said, ‘I know Washington. I have a large network of contacts there.’

      ‘Not for this. You can’t help.’

      ‘He’s that high?’

      She didn’t confirm or deny. Nor did she turn and run.

      ‘How old is your son?’ he asked.

      She raised her chin. ‘Four.’

      ‘Hit by a car?’

      ‘Yes. Two days ago. His spine is messed up. And his leg.’

      ‘Is the father a senator?’

      Staring at him, she put the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

      ‘And he won’t take your calls?’ Hugh persisted. ‘I can get through to him.’

      ‘Yeah. Right. If he won’t talk to me, why would he talk to a lawyer?’ She said the word like lawyers were scum.

      ‘He’ll be frightened of the publicity if he doesn’t,’ he said. ‘Bring a lawyer into the picture, and he’ll want things settled quickly and quietly. Trust me. I know these guys. They think they can do anything they want while they’re out there on the campaign trail.’

      ‘He wasn’t campaigning. He was hunting.’

      ‘Around here?’

      ‘In New Hampshire. He had dinner at the restaurant where I work. I waited on him.’

      Hugh could picture it. Neither the mess of her hair, nor her pallor, nor that wandering eye could hide the fact that she was very attractive. ‘Is that where he’s from – New Hampshire?’

      ‘No. He was someone’s guest.’

      ‘Are you from New Hampshire?’ If so, the case would be out of his jurisdiction.

      ‘Massachusetts,’ she said. ‘Just over the line.’

      It was a go. ‘Can you prove you were together?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Did anyone see you?’ When she didn’t reply, he added a goading ‘And you’re sure it happened the way you say?’

      ‘I took the motel room,’ she snapped. ‘The clerk saw me. But I don’t know if he saw the man I was with.’ She looked down to rummage in her bag.

      ‘Did you talk with him after that night?’

      ‘I called to tell him Jay was born.’ She took out a cigarette.

      ‘And you got through?’

      ‘No. I said it was personal. They put me through to someone who said it was always personal with women like me.’

      ‘I take it he said the boy wasn’t his boss’s.’

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ She tossed the cigarette back in her bag.

      ‘Are you sure he is?’

      ‘Jay looks just like him.’

      ‘Looks can deceive,’ Hugh said. ‘Did he pay you?’

      ‘I don’t need this,’ she muttered, starting to walk away.

      ‘Wait. I’m sorry, but these are lawyer questions. If I don’t ask them, someone else will.’

      ‘Not if I don’t do anything,’ she replied sweetly.

      ‘You have to do something. There’s your boy to consider. He needs care, and you have no insurance. What about the driver of the car?’

      ‘He died.’

      ‘The accident was that bad?’

      ‘No. He had a heart attack,’ she offered in a measured way. ‘That’s what caused the accident. He was, like, eighty. He didn’t even have a license.’

      ‘Which means he was uninsured.’

      ‘Correct.’

      ‘And your mother can’t help. Father? Boyfriend?’

      She gave a slow headshake.

      ‘Which leaves our man in Washington,’ Hugh concluded. ‘He owes you.’ There was a case here – and he was glad for the distraction. ‘Look, your son needs help. I’m offering it to you free of charge. Most mothers would jump at that.’ He held out the card again. ‘Take it. If you call, you call. If you don’t, you don’t.’

      She looked at the card, finally took it. Her hand still shook. Hugh wondered when she had last had a meal and might have offered her money for that, if he hadn’t suspected she would refuse it.

      She read the printing. ‘How do I know you’re not from him, trying to get me a lousy deal?’

      ‘I don’t even know who he is.’

      ‘How do I know you’re not lying?’

      ‘Check me out. You have the name there. Call another law yer in town. Or Google me. You’ll see the kind of cases I handle. I’d like to handle this one.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because it resonates. Because I don’t think men should father children and then deny responsibility for them. I told you that at the start.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have a personal gripe – like, your father did that to your mother?’

      ‘No. But I’ve known men who’ve done it. I know how their minds work. They’ll try to get away with as much as they can, until they’re cornered. Then


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