Page 33
Twenty-Six
THE RAPTORS WON on Sunday but lost on Thursday, a brutal defeat, at home, against a team with a worse record.
A slew of injuries in the first half left them limping through the second, and the short few days since their last game wore on them.
Scott threw one interception that came back for a touchdown, then the rookie, Jordan Highcastle, fumbled on a catch and turned it over again.
With a win, no one worried Scott’s personal life impacted his playing. With a loss, the recent article about Abby wound up front and center during a brutal press session.
“Do you think the recent controversy regarding your girlfriend distracted you?”
“No,” Scott shook his head. “Clean ball handling hurt us tonight. We need to do better next week against Miami. We’ll work on it.”
Before the same guy could ask a follow-up, someone else piped up with the team motto. “Work harder!”
Scott nodded, picking the speaker out from the crowd.
He looked familiar, and in a moment, Scott placed him.
He’d been part of the team that had covered the Raptor’s visit to the hospital.
Relief flooded his veins. They had at least one friend in the room.
“Yep. The Raptors are always trying to find ways to work harder, and we’ll do the same this week. ”
Another question popped up. “What do you have to say about last week’s article in the Herald ?”
Scott blew out a frustrated breath. “Listen, guys, we’re here to talk about football. If there are no more football questions...?”
Jesse in publicity jumped in then. “You’ll notice in tonight’s press kit an article referenced from last spring that should answer any additional questions you may have about Ms. Barclay.
We expect a forthcoming retraction from The Charleston Herald , who has clearly been misinformed.
” She nodded to Scott. “Thanks, Scott. Jordan, you’re up. ”
Scott exited the stage and slid out the back with a sigh of relief and an internal promise to send Jesse a thank you gift for the holidays. Then, he reached Abby, waiting in the ready room with Kelly and the other WAGS, face pale and eyes pinched.
“You heard?”
“How could I not?” She shook her head and tucked her chin, eyes on the floor, but he caught the tell-tale shine of tears.
“Hey, hey, it’s fine. We’ll win next week and this will all blow over.”
“It sucks, people saying I’m some kind of... parasite.”
In the tight space, privacy wasn’t possible, and several of the other women glanced over.
Apparently, they, too, were divided on what to think of Abby.
Fortunately, she’d gotten to know several of them over the course of the last few home games, and Kelly’s vote of confidence had paved the way for her acceptance, but after the article, their opinions might change.
WAGS were a tight-knit group; they had to be. No one else could understand their lives. Having the team accept or reject your girlfriend wasn’t the be-all or end-all of a relationship, but it could have an impact.
They’d reached the tipping point. Kelly’s credibility, Scott’s judgment, and Abby’s acceptance all hung in the balance.
Then, the wife of one of the offensive tackles approached.
“Oh, hon, we’ve all been called that, or worse.” She hugged Abby. “You have to let it slide off.”
“Yeah, screw them and what they think. We know you’re the real deal.” Jif, impulsive and reckless and loyal to a fault, crossed the room and threw her arms around Abby, who belatedly hugged her back.
Scott let out the breath he’d been holding.
He and Kelly locked eyes across the room, and Kelly smiled.
Abby had been accepted, and that meant the Raptors would stand behind her, no matter what the press, or anyone else, said.
Once again, Scott wore his best suit.
Instead of the Monday morning after a late game, he’d leave directly from the hearing and head to Green Bay on a late Thursday night flight. Fortunately, he’d miss only a day with the team.
Management hadn’t been pleased, but his attempts to explain he couldn’t change the hearing date had fallen on deaf ears until his coach spoke up.
“We’re not side-lining our quarterback because he has a custody hearing, gentlemen. And if anyone makes a big deal of it, that’s what we’ll tell them.”
It wouldn’t go over well for any organization to seem unsympathetic to Scott’s plight, though his fight to keep his son hadn’t quite hit the headlines, yet.
So far, it had been wiser to keep it quiet.
But the court of public opinion was powerful, if fickle, and if he could use it to his own advantage—well, he wouldn’t be opposed.
Entering the courtroom with his lawyer, Mark, Scott took a deep breath and walked up the aisle.
The weight of the space sank heavily onto his shoulders.
To one side, the jury box stood empty. Approaching the bench, Scott passed the empty rows of the gallery, then slid behind the table that already held several files of documents in case Mark needed them during the hearing.
He sat, adjusting his cuffs and straightening his tie.
Lindsay exuded comfort in the vaulting space, not surprising given how many times she’d probably litigated in similar courtrooms. Dressed in a smart, black suit, she sat tall in her chair, hands folded on the table, as she awaited the proceedings.
A few moments later, the bailiff announced the arrival of the judge, then, as they took their seats again, the doors behind them opened and the quick click of heeled shoes announced the arrival of the guardian ad litem .
Judge Farmer spoke first. “Ms. Meyers, Mr. Edwards. I’ve had the opportunity to read over the reports and evaluations provided to the court by Ms. Weiring...” He nodded at the guardian, now seated in the gallery behind Lindsay.
Did that signify something? Maybe her unvoiced support for his ex-wife?
“... as well as those provided by Dr. Grant Ferndale.” He paused, studying Lindsay over the edge of his glasses. “I must say, I was surprised to receive Dr. Ferndale’s report so quickly. He appears to be much sought after in New York. I expected it to take much longer.”
Lindsay dropped her eyes to her folded hands and took a ragged breath.
“Dr. Ferndale is a professional colleague, Your Honor. When I explained the circumstances of this case, he willingly prioritized it...” she paused, then continued, “for a price. Of course, I paid it.” A sheen of tears filled her eyes.
“I’d like to have my son home by Christmas. ”
Scott clenched his fists. “I thought you were going to Vienna for Christmas this year.” The comment slipped out before he could bite down on it.
Lindsay turned to give him a hard stare but didn’t respond.
“Mr. Edwards.”
Scott turned his eyes to the judge, then flushed and lowered them. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
The judge waited another long moment, a clear rebuke, then continued, “Mr. Lystead, you’ve had a chance to look over Ms. Weiring’s report and Dr. Ferndale’s evaluation? And you’ve spoken to your client about the findings?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Mark shuffled some papers.
“We take issue with Dr. Ferndale’s conclusions.
First, he suggests a slight change to Dylan Edwards’ math grade is indicative of a major disruption in the home.
What he does not note is Dylan switched to an accelerated math course this year.
” Mark rifled through the stack, removing two of Dylan’s report cards and several exams, then standing and handing them to the bailiff, who then handed them up to the judge.
“You’ll notice on last year’s report card, he averaged an A-minus.
This semester he’s sitting at a B-minus, including that exam you have, there, on top, on which he scored a seventy-two percent. ”
The judge glanced down, then nodded.
“However, he has not yet had the chance to re-take the exam, as per the class administration, which I’ve also provided. You’ll notice last year’s exams, also provided, show a marked improvement between the first and second tests, and we expect a similar pattern this year.”
Judge Farmer nodded. “I see. Ms. Weiring, you spoke to Dylan Edwards’ teachers as a part of your investigation?”
The guardian stood, though she did not come forward. “Yes, Your Honor. None of his teachers have expressed any concern about his academics this year; however, as I wrote in my report, several have described his demeanor as being more distracted.”
Scott slumped in his chair. Mark had warned him about this.
“Yes, the, uh, dog doodles?” The corner of Judge Farmer’s mouth ticked up.
“Yes, Your Honor. His English teacher, in particular, lamented all of his assignments now have sketches of dogs in the margins.”
Mark, too, stood. “Your Honor, Ms. Barclay has a trained therapy dog...”
“Yes, yes, I understand.” Judge Farmer waved him off. “Nevertheless.”
“Your Honor?”
Scott’s head swung of its own accord toward Lindsay.
“Since Mr. Lystead has mentioned Ms. Barclay, I’d like it noted The Charleston Herald published an article regarding her character and, as a mother, I must say, the idea she may not be emotionally stable disturbed me.
” Lindsay flicked through her own papers, then offered a copy of the article to the bailiff.
“Unemployed, depressed and anxious, with PTSD. Although my ex-husband believes the best of this woman, I can’t in good conscience ignore the warning signs the way he can. ”
Scott’s teeth ground together, and Mark settled a hand on his arm.
“Ms. Weiring, your report also suggests possible co-dependent tendencies?”
“Yes, Your Honor, although...”
“And that dog,” Lindsay interrupted the guardian.
“It growled at me when I rescued Dylan... Is it really a therapy dog? I know there’s all sorts of people these days pretending to have service dogs when they’re nothing but glorified pets.
” Lindsay’s lips crinkled in a sneer as she bit out the last word.
Scott exploded to his feet, hands shaking.
“Gen is a therapy dog, and the work she and Abby do is critical. They’re at the hospital two to three times a week visiting sick kids.
They go in anytime they’re called, day or night.
And Gen behaves perfectly. They have a therapy certification from.
..” His lawyer tugged his arm and Scott trailed off.
“Sit down, Scott.” Mark’s tone brooked no argument.
His eyes sought the judge’s and, seeing the impassive expression on the man’s face, his shoulders dropped and the heat that had run to his face drained away. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
He sank back into his seat.
A slow, victorious smile spread across Lindsay’s face.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” Judge Farmer began.
“The intent of this hearing is to explain any mitigating circumstances to the findings of Ms. Weiring and Mr. Ferndale. If there are no other explanations forthcoming?” He paused while Lindsay and Mark both shook their heads.
“Very well. We will adjourn while I consider all the evidence provided to me today. We will convene again—hmm, with the holidays coming up—in six weeks’ time.
At which point, I will render a new custody arrangement. ”
He picked up the gavel and brought it down with a quick snap.
Table of Contents
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