Jenny laughs through her tears, but then her expression turns even more serious than before. “Penn, did you ever cheat on Sarah?”

“What? Where did that come from?”

“You heard me.”

This is the last thing I want to talk about, but I know Jenny will have no peace until I answer. “I did once, before we were married.”

She flinches as though I’ve caused her physical pain. “But not after?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Penn?” calls my mother from the kitchen. “Jenny? What’s taking so long?”

“We’re coming!” I shout up the hallway.

When I turn back to Jenny, she’s staring into space with glassy eyes. “What is it?” I ask. “Jen?”

She seems not to hear me. I guess that despite the decades that have passed since the event, she’s still seeing her father kissing his nurse in the office garage.

“Jenny, is there something else going on? Are you afraid Jack’s cheating on you?”

Jack is her husband, whom I can’t imagine committing adultery if his life depended on it.

“No,” she says, still looking dazed.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you positive?”

She shakes her head once like someone trying to wake up from a nightmare, and then her eyes come clear. “Let me wash my face again. Tell Mom something to buy me a minute.”

“I will.”

She stands on tiptoe and kisses my cheek, then hurries back into the bathroom.

“Where’s Jenny?” Mom asks from the kitchen door. “Is she sick?”

“Just a little, I think. Her stomach. Nerves, I’m sure.”

“Well, we can’t wait all day. I’m not going to miss those summations.”

“We won’t, Mom. I promise.”

She frowns, then speaks under her breath. “That girl has had nerves ever since she was a child. You’d think that by fifty-three she’d outgrow them.”

“High-strung,” I answer, walking back to the kitchen with a forced smile. “Isn’t that what you always said?”

Mom pats my arm, but I’m not sure whether she’s doing it to comfort me or herself. “I’m just glad Jenny didn’t have to grow up on a cotton farm,” she says. “She wouldn’t have made it.”

“She might have surprised you.”

Chapter 68

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Shad Johnson begins, nodding to the twelve jurors, then turning to acknowledge the audience, which has somehow swelled even larger than in past sessions. “Good afternoon.”

We’re bound to be in violation of the fire codes at this point, but Judge Elder has allowed it, so nothing will be done to thin the crowd. Shad gives a respectful nod to the gallery, then turns back to the jury box.