Okay," McKenna said.
"Be careful."
Within minutes, he was in the backseat of a cab. Only now aware of the blood on his shirt, he buttoned his suit jacket and folded his arms against his chest. A familiar pain crept from the back of his neck to behind his left eye, and he began to perspire. He closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths. In his years coping with migraines he had found only one thing that might stave off the impending agony: he needed to relax, to think pleasant thoughts, to go to another place.
"You okay?" the cabbie asked, darting nervous looks in the rearview mirror.
"Yes, I just have a headache. I'll be fine."
Another dagger struck quick behind his eye. He pulled out the little square tin where he kept his medication, and took two tablets. Taped on the inside of the tin's lid was a photo. He stared at it and tried to block out every other thought as Isabel smiled back at him. She was giving Colin his first bath.
He remembered taking the picture, and how Isabel, her hair disheveled and her eyes tired, laughed joyfully when Colin splashed her.
After Colin's death, of course, Isabel's smiles and laughs were few and brief. But she had coped with the loss far better than her husband. While Isabel made all the funeral arrangements and attended to grieving family and friends, McKenna was no more than a vacant spectator. Isabel volunteered at the hospital and brought meals to the families they had met in the children's ward. McKenna retreated to his office. Isabel sought grief counseling, never once missing a session, while McKenna sat alone in Colin's playroom in the dark. He was angry-angry at the insurance company for denying coverage for an experimental treatment. Angry at Isabel and everyone else who seemed to accept that nothing more could be done to save his little boy. And angry at God. Isabel had pleaded with him to open up, see a counselor-to try and remember the good times in Ohio. Recalling one of their last carefree nights before everything began to fall apart, McKenna sank low in the back of the cab and closed his eyes ...
-7he Fairest of7hem "'Isabel read aloud, giggling at the headline of a story from a legal gossip Web site that catered to federal law clerks.
"McKenna said, having already been teased mercilessly by the other judges in the Ohio federal courthouse.
Isabel read gleefully on. -Our nominations for the annual judicial hottie list are out. This year there are twenty-seven federal judges that are making their law clerks sweat-and not from researching case
McKenna tried to grab the printout from her, but she darted away into the kitchen, reading as she fled. "Ibis is my favorite part. `7he most recent addition to the list: Judge Jefferson McKenna from the Southern District of Ohio. A tall, dark dreamboat-Ohio never looked so good. But sorry, Buckeyes, this guy's headed to where he's been nominated for solicitor general. We can't wait to see him in the mandatory SG uniform, including the morning coat and those tight striped
Backtracking, he dashed around the refrigerator, caught Isabel, and wrestled her to the floor. Snatching theprintout from hergrasp and throwing it out of reach, he pinned her on the floor. She laughed andfake-struggled, and he kissed her. And they made love right there-a rare exercise of freedom with Colin fast asleep.,4 week later, Colin came down with what they thought was the flu. Leukemia. Life would never be the same.
McKenna paid the cabbie and walked up the uneven brick sidewalk to a faded yellow house with a motorcycle parked on a patch of long, uncut grass near the front door. The key was under the pot of dead geraniums, just as Kate had said it would be, and he went inside.
The house had few windows and fewer lights. The living room had a black leather recliner that faced a television connected to a video gaming system. By the television was a bookshelf, and on the top shelf sat three motorcycle helmets, all candy-apple red. A Gibson Les Paul
"Be careful."
Within minutes, he was in the backseat of a cab. Only now aware of the blood on his shirt, he buttoned his suit jacket and folded his arms against his chest. A familiar pain crept from the back of his neck to behind his left eye, and he began to perspire. He closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths. In his years coping with migraines he had found only one thing that might stave off the impending agony: he needed to relax, to think pleasant thoughts, to go to another place.
"You okay?" the cabbie asked, darting nervous looks in the rearview mirror.
"Yes, I just have a headache. I'll be fine."
Another dagger struck quick behind his eye. He pulled out the little square tin where he kept his medication, and took two tablets. Taped on the inside of the tin's lid was a photo. He stared at it and tried to block out every other thought as Isabel smiled back at him. She was giving Colin his first bath.
He remembered taking the picture, and how Isabel, her hair disheveled and her eyes tired, laughed joyfully when Colin splashed her.
After Colin's death, of course, Isabel's smiles and laughs were few and brief. But she had coped with the loss far better than her husband. While Isabel made all the funeral arrangements and attended to grieving family and friends, McKenna was no more than a vacant spectator. Isabel volunteered at the hospital and brought meals to the families they had met in the children's ward. McKenna retreated to his office. Isabel sought grief counseling, never once missing a session, while McKenna sat alone in Colin's playroom in the dark. He was angry-angry at the insurance company for denying coverage for an experimental treatment. Angry at Isabel and everyone else who seemed to accept that nothing more could be done to save his little boy. And angry at God. Isabel had pleaded with him to open up, see a counselor-to try and remember the good times in Ohio. Recalling one of their last carefree nights before everything began to fall apart, McKenna sank low in the back of the cab and closed his eyes ...
-7he Fairest of7hem "'Isabel read aloud, giggling at the headline of a story from a legal gossip Web site that catered to federal law clerks.
"McKenna said, having already been teased mercilessly by the other judges in the Ohio federal courthouse.
Isabel read gleefully on. -Our nominations for the annual judicial hottie list are out. This year there are twenty-seven federal judges that are making their law clerks sweat-and not from researching case
McKenna tried to grab the printout from her, but she darted away into the kitchen, reading as she fled. "Ibis is my favorite part. `7he most recent addition to the list: Judge Jefferson McKenna from the Southern District of Ohio. A tall, dark dreamboat-Ohio never looked so good. But sorry, Buckeyes, this guy's headed to where he's been nominated for solicitor general. We can't wait to see him in the mandatory SG uniform, including the morning coat and those tight striped
Backtracking, he dashed around the refrigerator, caught Isabel, and wrestled her to the floor. Snatching theprintout from hergrasp and throwing it out of reach, he pinned her on the floor. She laughed andfake-struggled, and he kissed her. And they made love right there-a rare exercise of freedom with Colin fast asleep.,4 week later, Colin came down with what they thought was the flu. Leukemia. Life would never be the same.
McKenna paid the cabbie and walked up the uneven brick sidewalk to a faded yellow house with a motorcycle parked on a patch of long, uncut grass near the front door. The key was under the pot of dead geraniums, just as Kate had said it would be, and he went inside.
The house had few windows and fewer lights. The living room had a black leather recliner that faced a television connected to a video gaming system. By the television was a bookshelf, and on the top shelf sat three motorcycle helmets, all candy-apple red. A Gibson Les Paul
Similar Books
