God had loved her enough to give her a family, and she wasn’t going to lose them if she could help it.
So she’d written the best brief of her life to DJ, outlining her actions and, most importantly, her eyewitness perspective on the events in Tiger’s life that accounted for his injuries. She’d explained Darek’s actions without prejudice, added in her firsthand experience with Nan, and finally summed up her opinion.
Yes, her opinion. But that, too, was what the law was about. A judge was supposed to be impartial, but a lawyer was supposed to be on the side of truth.
She had forgotten that, a little. An admission she put into her resignation letter. Because she couldn’t be a prosecutor and a defender. And she was about to leap so far over the line of ethics that it wouldn’t matter anyway.
But ethics and truth had parted ways somewhere in the night. And she had to live in truth. Had to live in love.
She’d left the letter attached to the brief with a note to DJ saying that he could accept if he wanted to. Or not.
She was hoping for not. But until she knew his decision, she was free to stand at Nan’s front door and plead Darek’s case.
So she knocked.
Please, God . . . She’d begun the conversation last night at the lake and continued it now. Please, God, let this go well. Please be on my side.
The door shuddered.
No, be on Tiger’s side.
Yes, that felt right.
The door opened and Nan appeared, looking down at her, frowning.
“Hi, Nan. I was hoping we could have a conversation.” Ivy held up a coffee.
Nan stared at it.
“Please? I think—”
“If you’re here to defend Darek, I’m not interested.”
Ho-kay. She kept her smile, the litigator’s face that refused to be rattled. “Actually I wanted to tell you a story.”
Finally . . . “Fine.” Nan looked behind her, then stepped out onto the porch, accepting the coffee cup. “But Tiger’s going to wake up any minute.”
“I know. And I don’t want him to be afraid or disoriented either. Believe me, I know what that feels like.” She blew out a breath. “See, I lived in fourteen different foster homes from the time I was nine years old. I remember every single morning I woke up in a new house—the fear, the strangeness. The hope that this family might want me. Might think I was worth keeping. That this might be the last time I woke up in a new, strange home.”
“Tiger isn’t in a strange home.”
“I know. And I’m thankful for that because as a child, there is nothing worse than having the hover of social services in your life. I never knew if one day I’d come home and discover them waiting for me. Or coming into school. Or meeting me off the bus.”
“If we had custody of Tiger—”
“Seriously, Nan. Have you seen Darek with Tiger? Because you can bet he will never leave this alone. You might somehow get legal custody of Tiger, but I can guarantee that Darek will be in his life. He adores his son. He lives for his son. And I’m so sorry that I can’t be impartial, but the truth is, maybe I’m here to help you understand exactly what you do to Tiger every time you fight with Darek or file a complaint or yank him out of his father’s home.”
“Darek doesn’t deserve Tiger.”
“Tiger is his son, and he doesn’t deserve to have his son taken from him. Just like you didn’t deserve to have your daughter taken from you.”
Nan drew in a quick breath. “She never would have been on that road if Darek hadn’t fought with her.”
“He knows that, Nan. Believe me, he knows that. But that still doesn’t make it his fault. It was just a horrible, terrible accident.”
Nan tightened her lips.
“Here’s the truth,” Ivy said. “If you keep going with this, you’re going to shatter Tiger’s fragile foundation. You’re going to start a fight between you and Darek and the Christiansens, and the only casualty will be Tiger. Is that what Felicity would want?”
Nan closed her eyes, said nothing.
Ivy softened her tone. “But that’s not what I came to say.” She slid down onto one of Nan’s patio chairs. Set her cup of coffee on the table. “In one of the many homes I lived in there was another foster child about my age. Difference was, she had parents—two of them. They were both fighting over her, and her father had abducted her, taken her across state lines. The mother went a little crazy and attacked him, landing herself in a psychiatric hospital. So when they finally found Corrie, they put her in a home to sort it all out. I’ll never forget that night—she was in the twin bed opposite me, weeping. I was so jealous of her—angry that she had two parents who both wanted her—and I wasn’t very nice. I might have told her to shut up. But she just kept crying, so finally I asked her what was wrong. She told me that her father hadn’t really wanted her, but he couldn’t bear her mother getting her.”