Messrs. Fulton and Matthews, on the other hand, explained that she had a passion for her son, and had been rendered hysterical and distraught at her husband's refusal to let her take her child with her when she left him. Mr. Markham was depicted as a man who adored children and wished to assist his wife now in providing a home for Johnny. But, they continued—Nick Burnham was so consumed with jealousy and was such a violent man that he had threatened his wife and had done everything to undermine her relationship with the boy, all because he couldn't bear the feet that his wife had wanted to divorce him. The story went on and on. The issue of the kidnapping was one they handled with great care. Totally destroyed by the loss of her child, and helpless in the face of Nick's threats, Hillary had taken John, hoping to wait until they would all go to court. And then the matter had got out of hand. She was too afraid of Nick to return … she was afraid that Nick might hurt the child. … As Nick sat in court and listened to the yarn they spun, it was all he could do not to stand up and scream. And worse yet, he recognized how respectable a troop they were. Fulton and Matthews were the best, and although Ben Greer was good, Nick was beginning to fear that he was no match for them.
The trial was due to go on for two or three weeks, and Johnny himself was to be a key witness at the end. But in the third week of the trial he came down with the mumps, and the judge granted a continuance. The trial was due to resume on November 14. And in the end Nick and his attorney felt that the interruption did them good. It allowed them time to regroup and dig up additional witnesses, although Nick was disappointed at how few would testify. People didn't want to get involved. No one knew for sure … it had been a while … even Mrs. Markham wouldn't testify for him. She had done what she could in letting him know where the child was, the rest was up to him. In her eyes the damage had already been done. His name and theirs had been dragged through the papers for too long, and she didn't thank him any more than she thanked her son for that. Who got the boy now was of no importance to her, and she wished them all in hell. All that Nick could get was a handful of maids who had hated Hillary, but had never seen her actually neglect the child, they said. At the end of the second day back in court Nick threw up his hands when the Markhams left and he and Ben Greer went to confer.
“Jesus Christ, why is she doing this, Ben? She doesn't even want the child.”
“She can't back down now. She's gone too far. Most court proceedings are that way. By the time you reach the end, no one wants to be there. But the machinery of justice is difficult to turn back.”
In desperation the next day, he tried to buy her off, and for a brief moment he thought the battle was won. He saw the glimmer of interest in Markham's eye as they met in the halls of the court, but there was no interest in Hillary's eyes. And when Nick had walked away in despair, Philip grabbed her arm.
“Why the hell did you turn him down? How do you think we're going to live for the next few years? You can't get your hands on your trust, and you know what my mother said.”
“I don't give a damn. I wouldn't take a dime from him.”
“You fool.” He grabbed her arm again and she shook him off.
“To hell with you both. I want my son.”
“Why? You don't even like kids.”
“He's mine.” Like a fur coat or a jewel or a war trophy she didn't want but would reclaim. “Why should I give anything to Nick?”
“Take the money, for chrissake.”
“I don't need the money.” She stared at him in icy hauteur.
“Oh, yes, you do. We both need it.”
“Your mother will come around.” It was a possibility he was counting on too. But if she didn't, there was a struggle ahead he wasn't looking forward to. He might even have to go to work, something he didn't intend to do. And he knew Hillary never would. But she had thought of something that had escaped him. “Haven't you ever heard of child support?” She smiled sweetly up at him. “Nick is going to want to make sure Johnny has everything he wants. And so will we. Voilà.” She curtsied to him and he grinned.
“You're awfully smart for a pretty girl.” He kissed her on the cheek and they walked back into court, and the battle raged on. The judge had estimated that they would be finished by Thanksgiving Day, and Nick tensed at the thought. What if he lost? What would he do? It was inconceivable to think of a life without his son. He dared not even think of that. And then suddenly they'd reached the end, and the attorneys were making their closing statements. Johnny had already taken the stand, but he sounded childlike and confused, torn between both his parents, a father he adored, and a mother who sobbed loudly in open court, and whom he clearly felt sorry for.
The judge had explained to all of them that normally he took a week or two to make up his mind, but given the tension that had already existed in both households for almost a year, the publicity in national press, the strain on the child, he was going to try to reach a decision more speedily this time. They would be notified when to convene again, and in the meantime everyone was to go home and wait. And when Nick left the courtroom that day, flashbulbs went off in his face, and as usual the press appeared. “What'd they say, Nick? … Where's the kid? … Who wins? … Do you think she'll kidnap him again? …” They were used to it by now, almost, and that day, when she left the court, Hillary stood on the front steps of the courthouse with Philip and gave them a charming smile. And as Nick climbed into his limousine he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He'd gained back some of the weight he'd lost while Johnny was gone, but at forty, he felt twice his age.
He looked over at Greer, poring over some notes next to him, and he shook his head. “You know, sometimes I think this thing will never end.”
“It will.” Greer looked up at him. “It will.”
“But how?”
“That we don't know. We have to wait for the judge to decide that.”
Nick sighed. “Do you have any idea what it's like to have all that you hold most dear, in other people's hands?”
Greer slowly shook his head. “No, I don't. But I know what you're going through, and I'm sorry as hell.” He looked at him for a moment not as an attorney, but a friend. “I hope to hell you win, Nick.”
“So do I. And if I don't? Can I appeal?”
“You can. But it would take a long time. My advice to you would be to wait. Give her six months with the boy and she'll come running back to you with him. I've been watching her all this week, and she's everything you said she was. Tough, cold, shrewd. She doesn't care about him. You started something and she's going to get you back, where it hurts most.”
“She has.”
“But she won't. She'll give the boy back, mark my words. All she wants right now is to win. Publicly. So she looks like a good mother. America, motherhood, and apple pie, you know about that stuff.”
Nick smiled for the first time in a week. “I didn't think she did. She's more interested in sable and Van Cleef.”
Greer smiled too. “Not in court. She's a smart one, and her attorneys have been very good.”
Nick looked at the man who had become his friend. “So have you.” And then with a lump in his throat, “Win or lose, Ben, you've been great. I know you've done your best.”
“That doesn't mean a damn unless we win.”
“We have to.”
Greer nodded, and both men fell silent as they watched the winter sky as the limousine glided swiftly uptown.
The next week was agony for them all as they waited for the call from the judge. Nick paced his room night and day, went to the office, ran home, tried to spend each spare moment with his son, and Greer felt like an expectant father. He had never cared so much about a case as he had come to care about this one in the past year. And in the Markham apartment, Hillary was as nervous as a cat. She wanted to go out and play, and for once Philip exerted some influence on her and insisted she stay home.