Chapter 6: Court Day

The family court was on the second floor, and I walked in at five to nine with a borrowed blazer and no lawyer.

Bea stayed in the corridor with June.

The bailiff said babies weren't allowed in that courtroom unless a judge asked for one.

I sat at the left-hand table alone.

The aid in my right ear whistled once and settled.

Across the aisle sat Winslow in a charcoal suit, with his lawyer on one side and his mother on the other.

Eleanor Wentworth wore a navy coat and pearl earrings, and she did not look at me.

Lorna sat one row behind them with a tissue in her hand.

Nobody had told me Lorna would be in the room.

"All rise."

The judge was a thin man with a flat voice, and he read my name off the file without lifting his head.

"Mrs. Wentworth appears without counsel."

"Yes, Your Honour. I couldn't pay for one. My husband froze the accounts."

"Mr. Wentworth's counsel?"

His lawyer stood.

He was smooth and polished, and he talked to the judge and never once to me.

He said I had left a hospital against medical advice with an infant.

He said I had no home, no income and a documented hearing impairment.

He said I had accused a grieving widow, in a public waiting room, of a crime the fire marshal had not found.

"Mr. Wentworth has no wish to hurt his wife," he finished. "He wishes only to keep his daughter safe until she recovers her judgment."

"Until I recover my judgment," I said.

"Mrs. Wentworth, you'll have your turn."

"Then let me have it now, please, Your Honour. He's already said my whole life."

The judge looked at me for the first time.

"Briefly."

Keep reading free with an account. Start Divorced, Yet He Can't Let Me Go from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.