Chapter 25

A NUTCRACKER READY FOR HIS NEXT WALNUT

Patrick sat in the defendant’s chair and fingered his Captain Pluton Band-Aid.

Mila watched him do it.

“All rise. Hear ye, hear ye, the Family Court for the District of Manhattan is now in session. The Honorable Judge Donald Ramirez presiding.”

Patrick rose and looked at Ted, who kept his face fixed straight ahead and his hands folded down like stiff marble limbs that might crack off at any second from strain. Yep, the old man still hated his guts. No matter, Patrick thought. The boy is all.

“All having business before this honorable court draw near, give attention, and you shall be heard. You may be seated.”

Patrick and all sat back down as Judge Ramirez, middle-aged but with an already full head of white hair, looked over the court papers. “In the case of Theodore Cake, the plaintiff, versus Patrick Guthrie, the defendant, is counsel ready to proceed with opening statements?”

Ted’s lawyer rose like a nutcracker ready for his next walnut. “We are, Your Honor. We intend to prove that the defendant, Patrick Guthrie, is unfit to care for his ten-year-old son, Braden, who is, while I speak, recovering from an invasive heart procedure. Mr. Guthrie was terminated from his teaching job the Friday after Thanksgiving, could only obtain temporary employment at a pizza restaurant, and was terminated from that job this past Saturday for continually being late and then finally not showing up for work at all.”

Judge Ramirez glanced at Patrick with a dim face.

“Furthermore, Mr. Guthrie is behind on his rent, light, heat, and phone bills. He is mere weeks from being evicted. This is not only an unfit environment for a child, it is an unthinkable one for a child recovering from heart surgery. We ask that Braden Guthrie be placed in the care of Mr. Cake, the father of the boy’s mother who tragically passed away some three years ago. We ask that Mr. Cake be awarded indefinite custody of his grandchild. It may be that Mr. Guthrie could very well obtain employment in the New Year, but his recent work history shows that he is unstable and even incapable of preserving the most modest of jobs. Put frankly, the man can’t even show up to cut a pizza, let alone care for another human being.”

The Nutcracker sat down and Ted looked over at Patrick with satisfaction.

“Is opposing counsel ready to make an opening statement?”

Abe wasn’t. He just sat there as if he were the cracked nut and the Dance of the Sugar plum Fairy had just scattered the broken bits of his shell all over the courtroom.

“Mr. MacManus?”

Abe looked at Patrick, who whispered, “Just tell the truth.”

“And end up begging out on the streets with you? I’m too old to play Punxsutawney Phil come February . . . or maybe I’m not.” Abe rose and collected himself. “I will tell this court the truth.”

“Seeing as how you’re a member of the New York Bar, I hope so,” Ramirez said with a voice as dry as gravel.

“Patrick Guthrie has done everything he can to take care of his son. Throughout this holiday season he has embodied the very spirit of Christmas. Even though he has faced his son’s impending operation with a father’s natural fears, he has spoken and sung his way through his days and into the hearts of those around him.”

Mila smiled to herself and again looked at Patrick, who still fingered the Band-Aid. Rebecca sat several rows behind, clutching her file.

“He has brought yuletide joy to many who needed it most.” Abe sat down as the bewildered judge looked from Abe to the opposing counsel and then back again.

“Mr. McManus. That’s your opening statement?”

Abe put his head in his hands and nodded. Ramirez shrugged and looked back to the plaintiff’s table. “Call your first witness.”

Rebecca stood at the witness box as the bailiff swore her in. “. . . and nothing but the truth, so help you God.”

“I do.” Rebecca sat as Ted’s attorney approached.

“Ms. Brody. You have interviewed Mr. Guthrie and observed his living and working situation now for some two weeks. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And have you come to a conclusion as to whether Mr. Guthrie is a fit parent to take care of a young boy who’s recovering from very serious heart surgery?”

Rebecca sat silent for a moment, her eyes traveling from Ted to Patrick and then back to Ted, who began to glower. “Mr. Guthrie is the best father to that boy any man could be.”

The attorney traded disappointed glances with Ted. “That’s not what I asked, Ms. Brody. Is Mr. Guthrie a fit father to care for a fragile child? Is he financially capable? Are his living situation and home life ones that you would consider acceptable?”

“Mr. Guthrie assures me that he will have gainful employment come the New Year. I believe him. Until that happens, there are financial aid programs to explore, city assistance—”

“Ms. Brody—”

“The boy shouldn’t be without his father,” Rebecca said in rush of words.

The attorney again looked to Ted Cake, who gave a knowing nod. “Ms. Brody, isn’t it true that in observing and interviewing Mr. Guthrie, you have gone above and beyond what a city social worker would be expected to do?”

“I’ve done my job.”

“Does your job include staying with Mr. Guthrie and his son for a whole showing of an animated movie at the hospital?”

Rebecca tried to answer, but was cut off.

“Does your job include arriving at the hospital at four in the morning in preparation to see the father and son?”

Rebecca looked to Ted and realized she’d been followed.

“Isn’t it true that you’ve become emotionally attached to this man?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

The attorney picked up a paper from the plaintiff’s table. “Just like you became emotionally attached to a fellow colleague during your medical internship, Julia Bright, and forged her signature on a patient’s chart?”

“So she could sleep. She hadn’t had any sleep for two days and was bumping into carts while making decisions.”

“So you took it upon yourself to forge her signature on a chart, just as you took it upon yourself not to disclose the AMA censure to the city when you applied to be a social worker, just as you’re now taking it upon yourself to decide that Mr. Guthrie is fit to take care of his child even though he can’t pay for his rent, light, heat . . . Do I have to go on?”

Rebecca sat in the witness box, exposed and beaten up. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said as she looked straight at Patrick. “I’m taking it upon myself to tell you that Patrick Guthrie would do anything, and I mean anything, for his son. And if it please the court, I perjured myself earlier.”

Ramirez sat up as Rebecca kept her eyes on Patrick.

“Go ahead and hold me in contempt. I’m very emotionally attached to Mr. Guthrie.”