Fabulous. Now she sounded like an alcoholic in denial. She tried again.
“Jack and I had been in the ER through most of the night. Otherwise, I would’ve been showered and dressed long before Meredith and Robert showed up.”
Russ nodded while writing down more. “This was on Memorial Day weekend, correct?”
At last, a simple objective question. “Yes.”
He proceeded to locate the pertinent section. “It says here you tried to cancel their preplanned outing with Jack, just before they discovered he’d wet the bed. Is any of that right?”
In her short time with the petition, she had already memorized each claim. As indications of abuse, Robert and Meredith had cited age-inappropriate urination, his sudden interest in violence, and the physical outburst at school. Supposedly, at the Rose Festival, his running away from Audra was another telling sign. Either that or a direct result of her dictatorship. Not only had she banned her son from “normal and healthy” children’s activities, she’d robbed him of any positive spiritual influence and made a concerted effort to erase Devon from his memory.
Was it any wonder that reading this heinous list had caused Audra to drive straight to their house to confront them in person?
Unlike then, however, she would now control her tone. “Jack just drank too much juice in the ER. Before then, he hadn’t had an accident since he was little. As far as me almost canceling on them, I was worried Jack would be too tired after such a long night. I was actually trying to be a good mother.”
She wanted Russ to chime in, to contend that any judge would agree she was exactly that. But he merely nodded while taking more notes.
“I also see here,” he said, “that your in-laws feel you’ve been attempting to distance them from Jack. Not just with phone calls and visits, but also moving cross-country.”
The accusation was almost as appalling as the other ones!
“Our move has nothing to do with them.” Her brusqueness raised Russ’s head. She returned to calm reasoning. “Since Devon’s death, Jack and I have been through a lot. We just need to start a new life somewhere else—for us.”
No question, she had made mistakes. But when it came to this case, there was only one crime to which Audra would admit her guilt: confiding too much in a couple she believed she could trust.
“I’d like to add, the only reason I ever told Meredith so much is because I was trying to keep her in, not out, of Jack’s life. I actually wanted her advice about his nightmares and his interest in ... military ... things.”
Russ suddenly turned to the next page. “I assume you’re referring to the reincarnation issue? Your theory that in another life Jack died in a World War Two accident.”
“Yes—no. It wasn’t my theory. It was just a theory.”
She cringed as the words tumbled out. Were these seriously the best arguments she could formulate? Keep this up and a custody battle would lead to a commitment hearing.
“Please, Russ, believe me. I am not delusional.”
He responded with an unreadable smile. After all, crazy people never accepted they were crazy. A second case of denial.
Audra unclenched her hands and folded them in her lap, an attempt to resemble the rational client who would accompany him into court.
If he took the case.
After a quiet beat, Russ set down his pen and steepled his fingers. His voice reclaimed a touch of the warmth she recognized. “Rest assured, Audra—regardless of these claims—taking a child away from his or her biological mother is exceptionally difficult in Oregon. You don’t have to be a good mother to keep your son, just not a blatantly abusive one. Frankly, a crack whore can maintain custody, so long as she doesn’t shoot up in front of her kids at the breakfast table.”
The example, lumping her in with an addicted prostitute, didn’t exactly boost Audra’s confidence.
“What’s more,” he added, “grandparents in particular are hardly ever awarded custody.”
“You’re saying it does happen though.” An important point to clarify.
“On occasion,” he admitted, “yes. But it’s remarkably rare.”
Rare. The adjective grated her nerves raw. She had grown well acquainted with the word even before losing Devon. She’d often used it herself when informing clients of the unlikelihood that the worst would befall their pet—only to later diagnose a fatal infection, second tumor, or failing organ that couldn’t be saved.
Rare, for Audra, couldn’t hold a thimble of water.
“So, how long do cases like this usually take?” she asked, turning to the pragmatic.
“That depends. A few months after the initial filing, the courts frequently start with what they call a ‘housekeeping’ hearing.”