“I know what mine would be,” Everett said grimly. “Kill the bastard. But I guess that wouldn't help Sarah either. I don't envy her sitting there day after day, hearing what a dishonest sonofabitch he is. And she still walks out of court next to him every day and kisses him goodbye before she goes home to their kids.” While they waited for dessert, Everett decided to broach a much more delicate subject with her again. On the day after Christmas Maggie had agreed to think about them. It had been almost four months, and like Sarah, she had made no decision either, and avoided discussing it with him. The suspense was starting to kill him. He knew she loved him, but didn't want to leave the convent either. This was an agonizing decision for her too. And like Sarah, she was seeking answers and a state of grace, which would allow her to finally discover the right thing to do. In Sarah's case, all solutions were onerous, and in some ways, in Maggie's too. Either she had to leave the convent for Everett, to share a life with him, or she had to give up that hope and remain faithful to her vows for the rest of her years. In either case, she lost something she loved and wanted, and in either case, she won something in return. But she had to trade one for the other, she couldn't have both. Everett searched her eyes as he gently tried to open the subject again. He had promised not to pressure her and to give her all the time she needed, but there were times when he just wanted to reach out to her and hold her, and beg her to run away with him. He knew that she wouldn't. If she came toward him and chose a life with him, it would be precise, well thought out, not precipitous, and above all, it would be honest and clean.
“So what are you thinking about us these days?” he inquired cautiously, as she stared into her coffee cup and then at him. He saw the agony in her eyes when she did, and was suddenly terrified she had made a decision that was not in favor of him.
“I don't know, Everett,” she said with a sigh. “I love you. I know that. I just don't know what my path is meant to be now, which direction to go. I want to be sure I choose the right one, for both of us.” She had been giving it her every attention and thought for the past four months, and even before, ever since their first kiss.
“You know what my vote is,” he said with a small nervous smile. “I figure God will love you whatever you do, and so will I. But I sure would love to have a life with you, Maggie.” And even kids, though he never pressed her on that either. One major decision was enough for the time being. If appropriate, they could discuss other things later. Right now she had to tackle a far bigger decision. “Maybe you should talk to your brother. He went through it. How did he feel?”
“He never had as strong a vocation. And the minute he met his wife, he was out the door. I don't think he was ever as torn by it. He said that if God put her on his path, it was meant to be. I wish I were as sure. Maybe this is some extreme form of temptation to try me, or perhaps this is destiny knocking at the door.” He could see how tormented she still was, and couldn't help wondering if she'd ever really make a decision, or finally just give up.
“You can still work with the poor on the streets, just as you do now. You could be a nurse practitioner, or a social worker, or both. You can do whatever you want to, Maggie. You don't have to give that up.” He had said that to her before. The problem for her was not so much her work as her vows. They both knew that was the issue for her. What he didn't know was that she had been talking to the provincial of the order for three months now, her mother superior, her confessor, and a psychologist who specialized in the problems that arose in religious communities. She was doing everything possible to make the decision wisely, not just wrestling with it alone. He would have been encouraged to know it, but she didn't want to give him false hope, if she didn't come through for him in the end.
“Can you give me a little more time?” she asked, looking pained. She had set herself a deadline of June to make up her mind, but she didn't tell him that either, for the same reasons.
“Of course I can,” he said reasonably, and walked her back to her building across the street. He had been up to see her apartment by then and was horrified by how small, spare, and depressing it was. She insisted she didn't mind and said it was much nicer and larger than any nun's cell in any convent. She took the vow of poverty seriously, just as she did the others she'd taken. He didn't say it, but he couldn't have lived in her apartment for a day. And the only decoration was a simple crucifix on one wall. Other than that, the apartment was bare, except for her bed, a chest of drawers, and a single broken chair she'd found on the street.
He went to a meeting after he dropped her off, and then went back to his hotel room to write his report on the trial for the day. Scoop liked what he was sending them. His editorials were well written, and he had gotten some terrific photographs outside the courthouse.
The defense took nearly a full day to rest its case. Seth sat frowning, looking anxious, while Sarah closed her eyes several times, listening with total concentration, as Maggie sat in the back of the courtroom and prayed. Henry Jacobs and his team of defense attorneys had made a good case, and defended Seth as best they could. Under the circumstances, they had done a fine job. But the circumstances were not good.
The judge instructed the jury the next day, thanked the witnesses for their testimony, the attorneys for their excellent work, on behalf of the defendant and the government, and then the jury retired to do their job. Other than that, court was adjourned, pending the jury's decision. Sarah and Seth were left to hang around with their attorneys and wait. They all knew it could take days. Everett walked Maggie out then. She had stopped for a minute to talk to Sarah, who insisted she was all right but didn't look it, and then Maggie walked out to the street with Everett, talked to him for a few minutes, and left for an appointment. She was meeting with the provincial again, but didn't mention it to Everett. She just kissed him on the cheek and left. And he went back inside to wait with the others, while the jury deliberated.
Sarah sat beside Seth in two chairs at the back of the courtroom. They had gotten some air for a few minutes, but nothing really helped. Sarah felt like she was waiting for yet another bomb to hit them. They both knew it was coming. The only question was how hard it would hit, and how much destruction it would do when it did.
“I'm sorry, Sarah,” Seth said softly. “I'm so sorry I put you through this. I never thought anything like this could happen.” It would have been nice if he had thought of it before instead of after, but Sarah didn't say it. “Do you hate me?” He searched her eyes, and she shook her head, crying as she did constantly now. Every emotion she'd ever had was brought up to the surface. She felt as though she had no emotional resources left. She had used them all to stand by him.
“I don't hate you. I love you. I just wish this hadn't happened.”
“So do I. I wish I had copped a plea instead of putting you through all this bullshit. I just thought maybe we could win it.” She feared he had been as delusional about that as he had been when committing the crime with Sully. In the end, both men had given each other up during investigation. So much so that their respective information about each other had only served to confirm their respective guilt, rather than saving either of them from the consequences of their actions, or diminishing their punishment. The federal prosecutors in California and New York had made no deal with either of them. They had given Seth the opportunity to plea-bargain early on, and then rescinded it later. Henry had warned him that going to trial could possibly make his sentence worse, but a gambler at heart, more than anyone had realized, Seth had decided to take the chance, and now he feared the result, as they waited for the jury to make the decision. Once they did, the judge would sentence him a month later.