Jenny taps her fist against her chin, and it’s obvious that she’s dealing with some painful emotions. At last she drops her hand and pats the kitchen counter with both palms. “During the conference at your office today, I could hear some of your discussion from the lounge.”

This makes me sit up straight. “And?”

“I thought I heard some mention of a videotape. Is that the tape that Viola left for Henry Sexton? The tape Daddy and Walt tried to get rid of?”

Shit. “There was some discussion of whether it might be possible to restore that.”

“And is it?”

“It might be, apparently. We won’t know until tomorrow.”

“And would that be a good thing?”

How do I answer this? I’m not about to make Jenny lie awake all night in terror.

“I honestly don’t know. Let’s not borrow trouble, huh? I’d just as soon give the case to the jury first thing in the morning.”

“So you don’t think Daddy should take the stand tomorrow?”

I think back to my visit in the jail, to the broken look in his eyes. “No. His chances are far better if he keeps his mouth shut.”

“I agree. I really worry what Shad Johnson would do to him on cross.”

“You’re right to. Shad can wield a question like a scalpel. I think Quentin underestimates him.”

The swish of slippers on the floor makes us both turn. Mom stands in the kitchen door, sleepy-eyed but alert for any hint of danger.

“Did I hear you talking about the case?”

Whoever said all humans lose hearing ability as they age never examined my mother.

“We were just discussing the possibility of Dad taking the stand tomorrow.”

Very calmly, Mom reaches out and steadies herself by grasping the door frame. “Would that be the mistake I think it would, Penn? I’m asking you as a former prosecutor.”

“Most lawyers would say yes. Most lawyers would have rested after Junius Jelks testified, or after Lincoln was destroyed. Certainly after Vivek Patel.”

My mother nods slowly. “Your father never would listen to anyone else. Not about the big things. And Quentin’s following his wishes.”

“Mom, I think there’s only one person in the world who could stop Dad from taking the stand tomorrow.”

To my surprise, she laughs. In that laugh is fifty years of shared living, half a century of knowing another human being as they truly are and sticking with them anyway.

“I’ve tried,” she says. “Oh, how I’ve tried. But it’s no use.”

She walks between Jenny and me, then puts an arm around each of us. A shock of pain flashes through my right side, but Mom doesn’t seem to notice. This tells me she’s definitely been into the pharmaceuticals.

“My two babies,” she says, “still with me. We’ll just have to hope for the best tomorrow.”