Twenty Eight

Emily had no real idea what to expect. Her only previous experience with courtrooms had been as a witness, called in only for her testimony, and leaving immediately after it. This time, however, she found herself wanting, no, needing to be there for the whole trial. Fred wasn’t sure how long it would take, but he was confident it wouldn’t be more than a few days, and Emily had booked the time off work so she could be present for the whole thing.

In some ways, it felt like her presence might show Trent that she supported him, that, despite their final conversation, he might believe that she did care for him. Even though she was absolutely certain that he would not want to speak to her again once her testimony was out in the open, she inexplicably found herself hoping that he might. Her ambivalence was becoming quite distressing to Emily: at once preparing herself to be hurt, again, completely sure it would happen; at the next turn wondering if there was hope, and wishing like a schoolgirl with a crush for some sign that there was cause for confidence in a future with Trent. It was exhausting.

The judge came into the courtroom and took a seat at the table on the dais at the front of the room. He sat facing the defendant, the plaintiff, a girl Emily only now noticed and recognized as the bruised and bloodied girl from the trauma room that night. Today, the girl was dressed conservatively, in a skirt and blouse. She looked much older than her nineteen years, and Emily noted the crutches propped against the table. Not surprising, she reflected. She had reviewed the chart the day before and recalled the injury in vivid detail. It was bad. Another thing she didn’t want to confirm before the judge.

The judge himself was a kindly looking man, dressed in the typical black robes. He had steel gray hair and looked like someone you’d see bouncing a new grandchild on his knee at a family Christmas party. Emily felt some measure of relief on seeing him; he looked fair. For Trent’s sake, that was all she could ask for. Well, that and for him to throw out the lawsuit.

Fred had told Emily that Trent’s defense team plan was planning not to call Trent to testify. They felt that this showed he was not a factor in the accident at all. She wondered, briefly, if Trent’s temper might have played a part in that decision. Emily was to be called by the plaintiff, and early on in the proceedings. First, however, a number of Jackie’s friends were called to testify to the events of that night. All were impossibly young, and spoke in the teenage vernacular with the lilting upward-tone at the end of each sentence that made it sound as if they were asking a series of rhetorical questions. One young woman stated that they had been waiting for hours after the show for autographs. They were unable to get past the security detail who had held them back from storming the bus, but did manage to get near the bus as it began pulling out. Jackie, her friend said, had grabbed onto the rearview mirror, then lost her grip and fell as the driver slammed on the brakes. She was struck by the front wheel of the bus as it screeched to a halt. The young woman was still obviously shaken, and broke down a number of times during her testimony.

Soon, it was Emily’s turn to be called. She jumped when they announced her name. Numbly, and acutely aware that every pair of eyes in the room was on her, she made her way to the table indicated by the bailiff. She faced the bailiff, swore woodenly on a bible, and sat. She willed herself to look at Trent, but found she couldn’t make her eyes seek his. She looked at her hands folded in her lap and waited expectantly. The girl’s lawyer rose.

“Dr. Peterson, you were the emergency room physician who treated my client, Ms. Alexander the night she was hit by the defendant’s bus, were you not?” he demanded. Emily felt her back go up and struggled to compose a response that wouldn’t sound defensive, although snapping rudely was her first instinct. She was saved by Trent’s lawyer.

“Objection, your Honour,” he said indignantly, half-rising from his chair.

The judge waved it off. “Sustained,” he said. “Let’s stick to the facts, Counsellor, shall we?”

“Apologies, your Honour,” he said to the judge. Then, turning back to Emily: “Dr. Peterson, you were working in the Forest Glen Hospital Emergency Room the night my client was brought in, were you not?”

“I was,” Emily agreed in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

“And you treated her injuries?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Could you describe them, please?” he requested, his tone polite.

Emily outlined the triage and initial treatment of Jackie’s injuries. She had thought over her words very carefully a million times a day since she first received the subpoena, so her delivery was smooth and professionally objective. It sounded much like any testimony she had ever given, to the casual observer, but inside, Emily’s mind was working furiously. Everything sounded damning.

“And did Mr. Buchanan attend the hospital that night?” the lawyer asked.

Simple truth is best, Fred had told her. “Yes,” she replied.

“Did you speak to him at all?”

“Yes.”

“Did he offer any explanation for how my client came to be injured?”

Emily paused, and still could not look at Trent. This was the moment she had been dreading for weeks. “Not really,” she said simply, and truthfully.

The lawyer adopted a look of mock surprise. “Oh?” he asked. “Could you elaborate, Doctor?”
Emily sat a little straighter, resisting the urge to tug nervously at her skirt. “He said that there were fans hanging around the arena waiting for autographs. He thought that the driver probably hadn’t seen her as he was driving out.”

She braced herself for the next question, the inevitable. The one where the lawyer asked if Trent had given the driver instructions to ‘step on it’, if he had admitted guilt. But it never came. The young lawyer’s tactical error had Emily’s heart thumping with the adrenaline rush of a near-miss.

“That’s all, Your Honour,” the lawyer said.

Emily focused all her attention on Trent’s lawyer as he stood up to address her. She could feel Trent’s green eyes boring into her, and concentrated on maintaining her posture and processing his lawyer’s question.

“Dr. Peterson, you became romantically involved with my client after the accident, did you not?” he asked gently.

How to answer? Technically, the question required only a yes-or-no response. She did not need to elaborate. Even though she felt that they were no longer romantically involved, how could she deny, under oath, that there had been, was, something between them?

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Thank you, Doctor. That’s all,” he said.

Emily blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the judge. “You can step down now.”

That’s it? she thought. I’m done? Relief was instant and thorough, but tinged by the weight of what she had said. Silently, she stepped down from her seat and walked back, outwardly calm, toward the empty chair next to Sarah. Inside her head was spinning, and her chest pain was back. Again she felt every eye in the courtroom on her. As she passed Trent, she dared to look over at him. Again, their eyes met with a connection that felt physical, and again, his face was unreadable. When Emily practically collapsed into the seat next to Sarah, her friend took her hand again and squeezed. It took every ounce of self control not to bolt from the room, to vent the restless energy, the guilt, the anxiety that churned away in her gut. Emily looked at Sarah and her friend’s reassuring grin was the proof she needed to believe that her part in this nightmare was over, and that she had escaped, if not unscathed, at least maybe doing minimal damage. She hoped beyond hope.

Emily crossed her fingers as she breathed out a sigh of relief, relief that was mitigated by the unanswered question of what problems she may have exacerbated.