Usually, the music took hold of me, helped me work through or forget whatever was bothering me.

Tonight, the blues just came out angry and all wrong. I switched to Brahms, something more soothing, but it didn’t help in the least. My pianissimo sounded forte, and my arpeggios were like boots clomping up and down stairs.

I finally stopped midphrase, hands over the keys.

In the silence, I heard the sharp intake of my own breath, an involuntary gulp of air.

What if I lose Little Alex?

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

NOTHING COULD BE WORSE than this, nothing I could imagine.

A few days later, we all flew out to Seattle for Alex’s custody hearing. The whole Cross family went west again. No vacation this time, though, not even a short one.

The morning after we arrived, Jannie, Damon, and Nana sat quietly behind me on the courtroom benches as we waited for things to get started. Our conversation had dropped off to a tense silence, but having them there meant even more than I would have thought.

I straightened the papers in front of me for about the tenth time. I’m sure I looked fine to everyone, but I was a wreck inside, all hollowed out.

Ben Abajian and I were seated at the respondent’s table on the left side of the room. It was a warmly appointed but impersonal space, with honey-colored wood veneer on the walls and standard-issue contemporary furniture.

There were no windows, not that it mattered. Seattle was showing off its dark, rainy side that morning.

When Christine came in, she looked very fresh and put together. I’m not sure what I expected, maybe some outward indication that this was as hard for her as it was for me. Her hair looked longer, pulled back in a French braid. Her navy suit and gray high-collared silk blouse were more conservative than I was used to with her—and more imposing. She looked as if she could be another lawyer in the room. It was perfect.

Our eyes met briefly. She nodded my way, without showing any emotion. For a second, I flashed onto a memory of her looking at me across the table at Kinkead’s, our old favorite dinner spot in D.C. It was hard to believe these were the same eyes meeting mine in this courtroom, or that she was the same person.

She said a brief hello to Jannie, Damon, and Nana. The kids were reserved and polite, which I appreciated.

Nana was the only one to be somewhat hostile. She stared at Christine all the way to the petitioner’s table.

“So disappointing,” she muttered. “Oh, Christine, Christine, who are you? You know better than this. You know better than to cause harm to a child.”

Then Christine turned back and looked at Nana, and she seemed afraid, something I’d never seen in her before.

What was she afraid of?

Chapter 33

Chapter 33