Read Online A Picture of Guilt by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page A

you?”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    He spread some cheese on half a bagel, placed a thin slice of lox on it, and laid a strip of onion on top. The smell of the onion made my nose itch.
    “You had a rough couple of days.”
    “It’s a good life lesson. Never be a Good Samaritan.”
    He chewed slowly. “I suppose it won’t help to say you did the right thing.”
    I gazed at the bagel and shook my head.
    “What did your father say?”
    “He said Brashares didn’t do me any favors.” I reached for the bagel. “Barry agreed with my father, by the way. He was almost compassionate when he came to get Rachel.” I bit into the sandwich. “Well, as compassionate as an ex-husband can be.”
    David went into the kitchen. “What’s his take?” he called over his shoulder.
    “He says Brashares left enough holes in the case to drive a truck through.”
    “Like what?”
    “Not objecting when he should have, for one thing. Not calling any other witnesses, for another. He said Ryan ought to be thanking his lucky stars his adversary was so incompetent. In fact, he was surprised Brashares didn’t get a continuance—based on the tape and what I brought to the case. Admittedly, Barry is usually looking for a way to needle me, but he said the guy ought to be sued for malpractice.”
    David came back out with another bagel. “He would know.”
    “He also said Ryan did a masterful job. You know, limiting me to yes and no questions. Not letting me give any opinions.” I finished the bagel. “But you know what bothers me the most?”
    “What?”
    “I think he’s right.”
    David frowned.
    “I’ve been thinking about it. Brashares did his job. But there was no feeling in it. No soul. I got the sense he didn’t really care about Santoro. Or me.”
    “Can you blame him? Think of the scumbags he represents every day. He needs professional detachment.”
    “This was beyond professional detachment. And how can you do a good job for your client if you’re not invested emotionally—at least a little bit?”
    “Not everyone has the same passion, the same commitment as you, Ellie. You see an injustice, and your heart cries out to fix it. Most people don’t bother. It’s part of what makes you special.”
    I balled up a napkin and threw it at him. “Why is it you always know just the right thing to say?”
    He tossed the napkin on the floor, moved over, and stroked the back of my neck. I settled back against the cushions, concentrating on the feel of his fingers. “That’s good,” I said thickly.
    An hour later, I felt much better.
    ***
    Before I fell asleep, I mentally played back the trial. I thought I was testifying for all the right reasons. Acting on principle. Serving justice. But now, lying in David’s arms amid pillows, sheets, and blankets, I wasn’t so sure. Was my concern the injustice that had been done—or the fact that my ego had been bruised?
    The comforting weight of David’s leg fell over mine. Maybe I should give it all up. Ratchet down a few notches. He’d never admit it, but David probably found me high maintenance. Wearying. I sometimes thought he’d be happier with a woman whose world view started and stopped with him. Someone who never questioned authority. Like the bimbo Robert Redford ended up with after he and Barbra Streisand broke up in The Way We Were .
    I threw my arm above my head. David stirred, sleepily working the palm of his hand up my thigh. A shiver skimmed my nerves. Life with him would be easy. Pleasureable. I wouldn’t have to work. I could dedicate myself to tennis. Join the garden club. And be bored—except in bed.

C HAPTER E LEVEN
    There was a snap in the air as we came out of shul on Rosh Hashanah . My father rubbed his hands together. “I love fall days,” he said cheerfully. “They always make me think of a fresh start. A new school term, new friends, a new suit for the High Holidays.”
    Rachel smoothed the skirt of her new outfit, a simple but elegant taupe knit from