Page 65 of Tempting Eden

“Proceed.” She gave her monotone judgment and refocused her light blue eyes on me.

“He gave me wine. A lot of it. I didn’t want it. I wanted to go home. He wouldn’t let me. He—”

“Judge!” The buffoon in the wrinkled suit was on his feet again. His voice sounded too loud in the small, wood-paneled courtroom. The only other souls in attendance were Mother and Maria. Mother was dressed as if she were in a legal TV show drama, perfect suit and pumps. Maria wore a more casual skirt that came to her knee and a light sweater. They held hands.

Things had changed quite a bit in the past six months. The night Maria had come to dinner had ended rather differently than anyone realized. Instead of leaving and going back to her Homewood cottage, Maria had, apparently, stormed up to my mother’s room where the two had it out. I tried not to imagine the rest of the details of what went down, as it were. As we’d all suspected, they’d been lovers and were only separated when my mother married my father.

Mother, out of love for my father’s memory—she told me that she truly did come to love my father—and the desire to hide her sordid past from her daughter and granddaughter (I’d rolled my eyes when she’d put it like that) had let her first love wither. Maria, in the space of a very short time, had brought it back to life. They were the marriage of opposites and couldn’t be happier. Their joy, along with Adele’s love, brought at least a little solace into my life, though my self-inflicted wound still hurt beyond repair. I missed Jack every day. Every day I hoped he’d return or at least send me a text or even a nastygram. But there was nothing. No contact.

Mother and Maria sat a few rows back, Mother’s expression growing graver by the second. I’d still never told her the truth of Adele’s conception, even after Mason filed suit. I didn’t want her to worry any more than she already did. But now she was here, listening to it all for the first time. I regretted not giving her more warning.

Mason’s lawyer continued. “I object to this on several grounds, not the least of which is relevance. This testimony has nothing to do with my client’s rights to see his daughter.”

I looked up at the judge from the witness stand where I sat. Her mouth, though never too amenable to a smile, turned down into a harsh frown. “One more word out of you during this line of questioning and we’re going to have a problem on our hands, Mr. Trent. Do you understand me?”

The judge stared daggers at the lawyer until he sat down. Mason, dressed in an only marginally nicer suit than his attorney, leaned over and began feverishly whispering in his attorney’s ear.

Claudia resumed her position in front of me, holding me steady with her now-familiar gaze. She had been a friend of mine in high school, and we’d only recently reconnected as I searched for counsel to fight Mason’s custody efforts.

I hadn’t been able to pay him, not after my career imploded and I lost the lion’s share of the Belle Mar commissions. He thought that openly suing for custody would shake some money out of Mother’s tree, but she had even less than I did. To her credit, Mother offered to sell the house if it would get Mason out of our lives, but I declined.

From the moment I’d returned home, heartbroken and jobless, I’d resolved to fight Mason. I wouldn’t let him rule me anymore. My fear of him led me to make the hugest mistake of my life—and I didn’t mean getting pregnant as a teenager. No, the biggest mistake I had ever or could ever make was driving away the love of a man like Jack England. I knew from the moment I saw him that horrible night in the penthouse, from the look in his eye, that I would live the rest of my life with the regret of hurting him lodged under my ribs, aching at intervals.

It ached even now, as I sat and retold my rape at Mason’s hands. Jack had given me the strength to call it what it truly was. I’d never thanked him for the courage he’d shown. Another of my failings when it came to him.

“You can continue, Ms. Rochester.” The judge removed her glasses and placed them in front of her. Her features softened toward me, or perhaps I imagined it.

I took a deep breath, though it didn’t stop my voice from quavering. “He kept giving me wine. I was drunk. On his couch. I told him I wanted to leave. He pushed me down. I said no. He-he raped me. I can’t remember many details, but I know he raped me. And then I had Adele nine months later.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” My mother stood and lunged toward Mason before Maria rose and took hold of her arm.

My mouth was no doubt agape at the sight of someone having to hold my Southern belle mother back from working physical harm on another. Mason cringed away from her, his cowardice on full display.

“Mrs. Rochester!” The judge barked. “You will sit down and remain calm while in my courtroom. If you don’t, I’ll have the bailiff escort you to a holding cell until you can comport yourself calmly.”

Mother obeyed, though it seemed only because Maria yanked her down into the pew next to her.

Claudia put her hand out toward Mother, trying to instill patience before turning back to me. “And how did Mr. Mason interact with Adele after her birth?” she asked.

“He didn’t. He never wanted to come see her, so he never did. He wasn’t interested.”

“What was he interested in?”

“Money. He wanted money. He told me if I paid him off and kept him taken care of, he would never take Adele from me. I paid him for years so Adele would never have to know him, to know what he did to me. But when I couldn’t pay anymore, he brought this suit.”

“Do you think he has any real interest in seeing Adele?”

I looked at Mason. He gave me an acid smile. “No.”

“Why do you think he pressed this suit?”

“I lost my job and couldn’t pay him anymore.”

“Do you think he might harm Adele or do anything to hurt her, or you, if the judge grants him custody?”

I felt my insides chill. “After what he’s already done, I’m certain he will.”

“Thank you, Ms. Rochester. That’s all the questions I have.”

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