awarding custody to the aunt, Your Honor. As you may be aware, Mr. Lester is the cousin of the child’s father.”
Judge Carstairs frowned. “What I may be aware of isn’t pertinent, Counselor.” She nodded toward the door at the side of the courtroom. “Let’s move this into my chambers.”
Annie sent a startled glance at Chet, who shrugged.
“She does things her way,” he murmured. “All we can do is go along.”
They trooped out of the courtroom and into a book-lined room that looked like an elegant library in a private home. The judge took a seat behind the desk and waved them all to chairs. She glanced at Pastor Laing. “Garth, are you here to testify in this case?”
“I’m here as little Marcy’s pastor,” he said, sitting down next to Link. “I’m concerned that we do what’s best for her, that’s all.”
The judge’s dark gaze rested on him for a moment, then she nodded.
Annie tried to find something hopeful in that. The pastor’s body language put him in their camp. She didn’t know what they’d done to deserve that, but she was grateful.
“All of us want what’s best for the child.” Judge Carstairs’s face softened in a smile as she glanced at Marcy, sitting contentedly on Link’s lap.
Annie moved the diaper bag a little closer to her side. She’d come prepared with crackers, a pacifier, a cup of milk, a book, toys. The last thing they needed was for Marcy to have a cranky spell in the middle of this hearing.
“So,” the judge continued, “we’re going to have a nice, informal little conversation about the situation and try to figure out what that best is.”
“Your Honor…” the Lesters’ attorney began.
Judge Carstairs frowned. “You have some objection to that, Ms. Marshall?”
“No, Your Honor. But I’d like to point out that my clients haven’t had an opportunity to prepare their case. This has come up very suddenly. Naturally, as the deceased’s closest living relatives, they expected the child would come to them. They’re a married couple, they’re lifelong members of the community and Mr. Lester has an interest in the deceased’s company.”
Indignation flooded through Annie. The woman was talking as if only Davis’s death had any significance.
Then she realized the judge was looking right at her.
“You have something to say, Ms.—” She glanced down at the file in front of her. “Ms. Gideon, is it?”
Annie felt the pressure of Link’s hand clasping hers. “I’m Ann Gideon Morgan,” she said firmly. “My sister, Becca Conrad, was the baby’s mother. I’ve been taking care of Marcy since the accident, and I believe my husband and I are the logical people to continue to do so.”
My husband and I. It was the first time she’d used the phrase, and it sounded odd to her ears. She could only hope that feeling wasn’t obvious to the others in the room.
The judge’s gaze moved from her face to Link’s with what seemed to be a sharpening of interest. Annie’s nerves clenched. What was the woman going to ask her? If she asked about the circumstances of their wedding, what could she say?
“Your Honor, this marriage—”
The judge cut Frank’s words short with a sharp gesture. “This proceeding is informal, as I said. But I still ask the questions.” She turned back to Annie. “Your marriage was rather sudden, wasn’t it? Will you tell me how it came about?”
Please, let me say the right thing.
At some level she was ashamed to be clinging so tightly to Link’s hand, but she couldn’t seem to let go.
“I’ve known Link for over eight years.” She could only be surprised that she sounded so calm. “We were both very close to my sister and her husband. After the—” Her voice caught suddenly and she had to pause before she could continue. “After the accident, we felt the best thing for the baby we both love was to be married. Pastor Laing conducted the ceremony yesterday.”
“I see.” Her gaze rested thoughtfully on them. “Mr. Morgan, do you have anything to add?”
Link’s hand twitched, but she was the only one to know that.
“Only that no one could be a better mother to this little girl than Annie, Your Honor.”
He looked down at Marcy as he spoke, and she smiled up at him as if she understood. Then she turned to Annie, holding out her hands commandingly. “Nan,” she said.
Annie lifted Marcy onto her lap, feeling a wave of love. Surely the judge would see how much she cared, wouldn’t she?
Judge Carstairs folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “I think I’ve heard as much as I need to hear at this time.”
At this time? The words sounded an alarm in Annie’s mind.
“Your Honor, we haven’t had an opportunity to present our case,” Frank’s attorney said.
“You’ve already pointed out that you haven’t had time to prepare your case,” Judge Carstairs said. “I’m not inclined to take the child out of an established relationship.”
A wave of relief swept Annie.
“However, I’m also not going to make a decision that affects the future of a child in a hurry.”
Annie looked at Chet, but if he knew what the judge had in mind, his face didn’t show it.
“Therefore, in the matter of the infant child Marcy Amanda Conrad, I’m ordering that she remain in the custody of her aunt and uncle, Ann and Lincoln Morgan, until such time as a full custody hearing can be held.” She frowned at a calendar on her desk. “We’ll set a hearing date in a month’s time. That will allow both sides to prepare their arguments and also allow Children’s Services to conduct an evaluation of the home Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are providing. The Lesters will have visitation, also observed by Children’s Services. That’s all.”
Annie sank back in her chair. She could vaguely hear Frank protesting, being hushed by his attorney. Link seemed to be saying something to Chet. All she could do was try and take it in.
There was no decision, either for or against them. She forced herself to look at Link. His set face probably hid feelings as appalled and shocked as hers.
She wouldn’t be going back to Boston with Marcy today. She’d spend the next four weeks living in Lakeview with Link, trying to pretend to the world that they were just like any other newly married couple. And knowing that at any moment a social worker could decide she wasn’t doing a good enough job and take Marcy away from her.
Link stirred restlessly in the leather chair in the family room. It was a comfortable chair, but he couldn’t seem to find comfort at the moment. What he wanted to do was throw on some shorts and go for a run, then go back to his quiet apartment.
He couldn’t. Because of the judge’s ruling, he was stuck here, trying to figure out how he and Annie were going to deal with this situation for the next month.
Chet had come over for a conference after they’d gotten Marcy to bed—a council of war was more like it. He’d been cautiously optimistic about the results of the hearing.
“…wouldn’t have given you even temporary custody if she hadn’t felt you were the right people to have Marcy,” he was saying reassuringly.
Impossible to tell if Annie felt reassured. She sat very erect in the bentwood rocking chair, still and collected. The Annie who had gripped his hand so tightly during the hearing was submerged beneath that composed exterior she wore so well.
For an instant he felt annoyed with her for not showing more distress at the way things had blown up in their faces. Talk about irrational. Would