LITMIR.BIZ

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Arnold Schwarzenegger, though Bruno was only five foot five and weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet.

      Jessica nodded her thanks as Bruno pulled out her chair. “Where is my father, Bruno?”

      “I do not know. He is everywhere. Here, there, gone and back. And after he sees you today on the television, ach! The man he is a crazy person.” Bruno threw up his hands. “He marched out of here and he does not come back.”

      Jessica frowned. She didn’t like the sound of that. She took the wine list Bruno pressed upon her.

      “Do not worry, he will be back soon, Your Honor. He would not miss this night with you for all the tea in his coffee cup.”

      Jessica blinked. Bruno had a way with a cliché. Sometimes it took her several minutes, or days, to figure out what he meant. This one was easy. “All the tea in China, Bruno.”

      Bruno lifted his nose. “That is what I said.”

      With great dignity he left her alone and went to greet the gathering dinner crowd.

      Jessica stared at the wine list, but she did not see the choices. Instead she frowned, reflecting. Though her father had never been late for one of their dinners before, she had noticed an increasing absentmindedness on his part. Now that she thought about it she could name several times she’d called the restaurant, or the house, when he should have been at one place or the other, only to have to leave messages on an answering machine. She was embarrassed to admit her job consumed her so completely she thought of little else, and had not put the disturbing incidents about her father together until now.

      Could something be wrong with Daddy?

      “Hey, baby girl, sorry I’m late.”

      The object of her concern kissed her cheek before slipping into the chair opposite her. Jessica’s smile felt stiff as she took in his disheveled state and flushed face. Ben Kirkland never looked unkempt. That would be bad for business. Yet here he sat with the top buttons of his shirt askew, his tie loose, and his salt-and-pepper hair looking as if he’d just come through a wind tunnel.

      Jessica glanced through the wall-to-wall picture window that overlooked the river below them. Bright and shiny sunlight reflected off the still water. Not a breeze stirred. Her smile turned upside down as she narrowed her eyes upon her father. “Where have you been, Dad?”

      He paused in the midst of tightening his tie. Was she wrong, or did he look just a bit guilty? What on earth could her father be hiding from her?

      He smoothed his hair and raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Am I under oath, Your Honor?”

      “Of course not. It’s just…” Jessica sighed. She did have an abrupt manner when she questioned people. She couldn’t help it, that was her way, her job. “You’ve just been different lately, Dad. I wondered if anything was wrong.”

      “Wrong?” He reached for the wine list, and crooked a finger at the wine steward who hovered nearby. “Why would anything be wrong?”

      Jessica frowned. His voice was too high, his color too pink despite the healthy summer tan of his face, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Dad?”

      Her voice wavered in the middle, sounding like a child frightened by the bogey man in the middle of the night. Her father, who had heard her cry out in the dark often enough and had always come to her rescue, glanced up in surprise. Their gazes met and he hesitated just long enough for her to wonder if he told her the truth with his brusque words. “I’m fine, baby. Leave it be.”

      He turned away to greet his steward, ordering wine with practiced ease. When he returned his attention to her, he was once again the man she knew, the man she loved more than any other. “So tell me about today.”

      The words were not a request but a demand. Jessica had known she would have to discuss her day, but she’d dreaded it. When things happened that she could not control, she wanted to crawl into the sand, bury her head and never pull it out.

      “You heard what happened. Bruno told me you were upset.”

      Her father snorted. “Bruno! He doesn’t understand our legal system. As he always says, ‘I came to America for freedom, but sometimes your freedom is just too free.’”

      “He’s right.” Jessica paused as her father performed the wine ritual with his steward, then she nodded her thanks as the accepted selection was poured into her glass. She picked up the crystal and swirled the ruby liquid about, tilting the glass just enough to catch the setting sun and turn the wine the color of blood. Then she put the wine down, untasted. “I had no choice, Dad.”

      “Of course you didn’t. No one knows better than I how hard it was for you to let that creep go.”

      Their eyes met, and they shared a moment of silence for the tragedy in their past. Once there had been four Kirklands living happily in a house in a Milwaukee suburb. Jessica’s sister, Karen, had been two years her senior, and though they had fought like sisters, they had loved like sisters, too. When Karen went away to college at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, Jessica had visited her often, counting the days until she could join Karen and experience the swirl of life in Mad City, as it was known to Wisconsin Badgers.

      “Jessica?” Her father’s voice brought her back to their table. He held his wineglass aloft, waiting for her to join him. She picked up her glass and tapped the rim to his. “Here’s to getting past the past and moving on,” he said.

      Jessica took a sip, then set the glass down with deliberation. “I wish I could, Dad. But every time I have to let someone go whom I know is guilty, I remember Karen and…” She stopped and took a deep, ragged breath.

      Her father’s hand covered hers where it rested on the table. “And you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and stomped on.” She nodded. “What happened to Karen was unspeakable, honey.”

      Jessica stared at his large, blunt, sun-browned hand covering her smaller, thinner, paler one. “Mom never got over it.”

      “I doubt we will, either. At least until we can have some closure.”

      She looked into his eyes and recognized the never-ending pain. “I thought that if I put away the guilty, I’d feel better.”

      “Don’t you?”

      “Sometimes. But every time I have to let one go, I remember that one, and not all the guilty ones I’ve sentenced.”

      “Why do you think that is?”

      “Because no matter how many I sentence, I’ll never know if he’s the one who murdered my sister.”

      Her father winced.

      “I’m sorry.” Jessica turned her hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

      “It’s the truth. Maybe we don’t talk about Karen enough.”

      “I doubt that. You know sometimes I can’t remember what she looked like? I know she had lighter hair compared to mine, and she wanted to be a veterinarian. Sometimes, I can almost hear her laugh, but I can’t remember her face.”

      “Look at her picture. I always do.”

      “Her picture isn’t her, Dad.”

      He squeezed her hand. “We’ll never forget Karen, never forgive what happened to her, but both of us need to get past it and move on with our lives. Especially you, Jess.”

      Jessica straightened, pulling on her hand, but he wouldn’t let go. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It means you need to do something other than worry about the bad guys all the time.”

      “I thought you were proud of my career.”

      “I am. I’m bursting my buttons whenever I can work into the conversation that my daughter is a judge. But you’re starting to worry me.” Jessica scowled

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