imprisonment. The unlicensed psychiatrist, along with the shock therapy paddles, awaited deportation back to his home country somewhere in the Balkans. The Cure Center was closed indefinitely, pending further investigations.
Erin had recovered the ability to speak in complete sentences. She was going to make an excellent witness for the prosecution.
“Enough about everyone else,” Allie said as she filled a box with personal items. “What about you?”
“I have a plan.” Sandra was both relieved and excited by the prospect. “My soon-to-be ex-husband has agreed to help me apply to become Erin’s legal guardian. He’s so happy I’m only asking for the house, my car and money to cover my living expenses, he’s promised to pull some strings to expedite the process. She’s about the age of one of the children I would have had, if I hadn’t miscarried, and she already calls me Mommy.”
Allie nodded. “What about the rest of your life? Children grow up and move away, you know.”
“When Jim and I married, I gave up on law school, became a paralegal, and helped him build his practice. I’ve decided to pick up where I left off.” She smiled. “I’ve become very attached to the Adirondacks. With any luck, I’ll be accepted at Albany Law School. Jim has offered to pay my tuition. Can you believe it? He said it’s an investment in his financial freedom.”
A horn honked. “There’s my ride. Thanks for everything.” Sandra walked outside into the diamond bright sunshine, squinting at the outline of a man leaning against the limousine—and felt a sharp pang of disappointment when she realized it was only the chauffeur.
Did you really think he’d be here to see you off?
“Ready to go, Ms. Blake?”
“Yes, thanks. You have all my things?”
He nodded.
She turned and took one last look around Lake Placid as her eyes welled up with tears. Damn, damn, damn the man! He had really gotten under her skin. “Let’s go,” she choked out.
The chauffeur opened the back door and Sandra slid into the dark leather interior, eyes blinded, head bowed as she wept. Needing time alone, she pressed the button and closed the divider. Too soon, the car stopped. Despite pressing all the knobs in the back seat, the divider wouldn’t go down.
The back door flew open; Harrington stood on the curb.
He reached in to take her hand. “Come with me.”
“What’s going on?”
He led her up the steps of the gray courthouse, through a metal detector, and into a judge’s chambers—all without a word.
A gray-haired man in black robes looked up from a stack of papers. “Ms. Blake?”
“Yes,” she answered, anxious that something had gone terribly wrong.
“I’ve spent the last two hours on the phone with Family Court judges in New York City, each and every one of them singing your praises. A bossy lawyer named Jim Radcliff has called here so often, I’ve told my secretary not to put him through anymore. And this fellow—” the older man shook his finger at Harrington. “Has been badgering me to death.”
Sandra looked back and forth between the judge and Harrington, and opened her mouth. All that came out was a weak whisper, “Why?”
“Because a certain young lady needs a foster parent, and everyone in the State of New York seems to think you are the best person for the job.”
Erin burst into the room, leaped into Sandra’s arms and hugged her, rocking and repeating, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”
“I thought you’d like some company on your trip back to Manhattan,” Harrington said with an enormous smile.
Eyes swimming, Sandra took the pen, and signed the paperwork with shaking hands.
As the beaming judge looked on, Harrington embraced Sandra and Erin in a giant bear hug.
“Do you believe in miracles?” Sandra whispered.
“Yes, I do,” he replied, and sealed her destiny with a kiss.
French Kiss: Pigmalion
~*~
Baltimore Metropolitan University’s football stadium
Erin had recovered the ability to speak in complete sentences. She was going to make an excellent witness for the prosecution.
“Enough about everyone else,” Allie said as she filled a box with personal items. “What about you?”
“I have a plan.” Sandra was both relieved and excited by the prospect. “My soon-to-be ex-husband has agreed to help me apply to become Erin’s legal guardian. He’s so happy I’m only asking for the house, my car and money to cover my living expenses, he’s promised to pull some strings to expedite the process. She’s about the age of one of the children I would have had, if I hadn’t miscarried, and she already calls me Mommy.”
Allie nodded. “What about the rest of your life? Children grow up and move away, you know.”
“When Jim and I married, I gave up on law school, became a paralegal, and helped him build his practice. I’ve decided to pick up where I left off.” She smiled. “I’ve become very attached to the Adirondacks. With any luck, I’ll be accepted at Albany Law School. Jim has offered to pay my tuition. Can you believe it? He said it’s an investment in his financial freedom.”
A horn honked. “There’s my ride. Thanks for everything.” Sandra walked outside into the diamond bright sunshine, squinting at the outline of a man leaning against the limousine—and felt a sharp pang of disappointment when she realized it was only the chauffeur.
Did you really think he’d be here to see you off?
“Ready to go, Ms. Blake?”
“Yes, thanks. You have all my things?”
He nodded.
She turned and took one last look around Lake Placid as her eyes welled up with tears. Damn, damn, damn the man! He had really gotten under her skin. “Let’s go,” she choked out.
The chauffeur opened the back door and Sandra slid into the dark leather interior, eyes blinded, head bowed as she wept. Needing time alone, she pressed the button and closed the divider. Too soon, the car stopped. Despite pressing all the knobs in the back seat, the divider wouldn’t go down.
The back door flew open; Harrington stood on the curb.
He reached in to take her hand. “Come with me.”
“What’s going on?”
He led her up the steps of the gray courthouse, through a metal detector, and into a judge’s chambers—all without a word.
A gray-haired man in black robes looked up from a stack of papers. “Ms. Blake?”
“Yes,” she answered, anxious that something had gone terribly wrong.
“I’ve spent the last two hours on the phone with Family Court judges in New York City, each and every one of them singing your praises. A bossy lawyer named Jim Radcliff has called here so often, I’ve told my secretary not to put him through anymore. And this fellow—” the older man shook his finger at Harrington. “Has been badgering me to death.”
Sandra looked back and forth between the judge and Harrington, and opened her mouth. All that came out was a weak whisper, “Why?”
“Because a certain young lady needs a foster parent, and everyone in the State of New York seems to think you are the best person for the job.”
Erin burst into the room, leaped into Sandra’s arms and hugged her, rocking and repeating, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”
“I thought you’d like some company on your trip back to Manhattan,” Harrington said with an enormous smile.
Eyes swimming, Sandra took the pen, and signed the paperwork with shaking hands.
As the beaming judge looked on, Harrington embraced Sandra and Erin in a giant bear hug.
“Do you believe in miracles?” Sandra whispered.
“Yes, I do,” he replied, and sealed her destiny with a kiss.
French Kiss: Pigmalion
~*~
Baltimore Metropolitan University’s football stadium
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