My Sister's Keeper

"Well, of course I did!" Sara explodes. "I'm trying to get to the bottom of this!"

The admission is a circus tent collapsing, leaving all of us in utter silence. Julia chooses that moment to burst through the door. "Sorry I'm late," she says, breathless.

"Ms. Romano," the judge asks, "have you had a chance to speak to A

"Yes, just now." She looks at me, and then at Sara. "I think she's very confused."

"What's your opinion of the motion Mr. Alexander's filed?" She tucks an errant coil of hair behind one ear. "I don't think I have enough information to make a formal decision, but my gut feeling says it would be a mistake for A

Immediately, I tense. Reacting, the dog gets to his feet. "Judge, Mrs. Fitzgerald just admitted that she violated the court's order. At the very least she should be reported to the bar for ethical violations, and—'

"Mr. Alexander, there is more to this case than the letter of the law." Judge DeSalvo turns to Sara. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, I strongly recommend you look into hiring an independent attorney to represent you and your husband in this petition. I am not going to grant the restraining order today, but I will warn you once again not to talk with your child about this case until the hearing next week. If it comes to my attention at some future date that you have ignored this directive once again, I will report you to the bar myself and personally escort you from your home." He smacks the file folder shut and gets up. "Do not bother me again until Monday, Mr. Alexander."

"I need to see my client," I a

Sara Fitzgerald, predictably, is right at my heels. Following her—intent on keeping the peace, no doubt—is Julia. All three of us come to an abrupt stop at the sight of Vern Stackhouse, dozing on the bench where A

He immediately leaps to his feet, clearing his throat defensively. "It's a lumbar problem. Gotta sit down every now and then to take the pressure off."

"You know where A

He jerks his head toward the front door of the building. "She and her dad took off a while ago."

From the look on Sara's face, this is news to her, too. "Do you need a ride back to the hospital?" Julia asks.

She shakes her head and peers through the glass doors, where the reporters have rallied. "Is there a back way out?"

At my side, Judge begins to stick his muzzle into my hand. Damn.

Julia steers Sara Fitzgerald toward the rear of the building. "I need to talk to you," she calls over her shoulder to me.

I wait for her to turn her back. Then I promptly grab Judge's harness and haul him down a corridor.

"Hey!" A moment later, Julia's heels strike the tile behind me. "I said I wanted to talk to you!"

For a minute I seriously consider ducking out a window. Then I stop abruptly, turn, and offer up my most engaging smile. "Technically speaking, you said you needed to talk to me. If you'd said you wanted to talk to me, I might have waited around." Judge sinks his teeth into the corner of my suit, my expensive Armani suit, and tugs. "Right now, though, I have a meeting to get to."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she says. "You told me you talked to A

"I did, and we were—Sara was coercing her, and A

"Alternatives? She's a thirteen-year-old girl. Do you know how many kids I see whose take on a trial is completely different from their parents'? A mother comes in and promises that her child will testify against a child molester, because she wants the perp put away for life. But the child doesn't care what happens to the perp, as long as he never has to be in the same room as the guy again. Or he thinks that maybe the perp should get another chance, just like his parents give him when he's bad. You can't expect A

“Well, that's the point of this whole petition," I say. "As a matter of fact, A

"She hasn't talked to me about it."

"That's because you're talking about the wrong things. You had a conversation with her about a legal way to keep her from being pressured to call off the lawsuit. Of course she jumped all over that. But do you really think she was considering what it might truly mean—that there would be one less parent home to cook or drive or help her with homework, that she wouldn't be able to kiss her mother good night, that the rest of her family would most likely be very upset with her? All she heard, when you talked, were the words no pressure. She never heard separation."

Judge begins to whine in earnest. "I have to go." She follows me. "Where?"

"I told you, I have an appointment." The corridor is lined with rooms, all locked. Finally I find a knob that turns in my hand. I walk inside and bolt the door behind me. "Gentlemen," I say heartily.

Julia rattles the knob. She bangs on the smoky postage-stamp square of glass. I feel sweat break out on my forehead. "You're not getting away this time," she yells through the door at me. "I'm still waiting right here."

"I'm still busy," I yell back. When Judge pushes his snout in front of me, I sink my fingers into the thick fur at his neck. "It's okay," I tell him, and then I turn around to face the empty room.

JESSE

EVERY NOW AND THEN I have to contradict myself and believe in God, such as at this very moment when I come home to find a bodacious babe on my doorstep, one who gets to her feet and asks me if I know Jesse Fitzgerald. "Who's asking?" I say. "Me."

I give her my most charming smile. "Then here I am." Let me just step back for a moment and tell you that she's older than me, but with every glance that makes less and less of a difference—she's got hair I could get lost in, and a mouth so soft and full I have a hard time tearing my eyes away to check out the rest of her. I'm itching to get my hands on her skin—even the ordinary parts—just to see if it feels as smooth as it looks.

"I'm Julia Romano," she says. "I'm a guardian ad litem."

All the violins soaring in my veins screech to a stop. "Is that like a cop?"

"No, I'm an attorney, and I'm working with a judge to help your sister."

"You mean Kate?"

Something in her face tightens. "I mean A

"Oh, yeah. I know about that."

"Really?" This seems to surprise her, as if defiance is something A

I glance at the house, dark and empty. "Am I my sister's keeper?" I say. Then I grin at her. "If you feel like waiting, you can come up and see my etchings."

To my shock, she agrees. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. I'd like to talk to you."

I lean against the door again and cross my arms, so that my biceps flex. I give her the grin that's stopped half the female population of Roger Williams University in their tracks. "You got plans for tonight?"

She stares at me like I've just spoken Greek. No, damn, she'd probably understand Greek. Martian. Or freaking Vulcan. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I'm sure as hell trying," I say.

"You're sure as hell failing," she responds flatly. "I'm old enough to be your mother."

"You have the most fantastic eyes." By eyes, I mean tits, but whatever.