she couldn’t help but smile again. “Then, perhaps, my dear, you should have those lovely eyes checked.”
They passed the last edge of the crowd and moved thirty yards in a slow shuffle, tarmac on the left, sun-cooked grass to the right. Neither spoke, but he pressed her hand with his arm. When they reached a bench in a spot of shade, they sat and watched a line of uniformed officers stand at the balustrade and stare in their direction. They disliked that Adrian was bonding out, that Liz was sitting with the lawyer who made it happen. “That’s a grim spectacle,” Faircloth said.
“Not everyone sees Adrian as we do.”
“How could they when they barely know the man? Such is the nature of headlines and innuendo.”
“And murder convictions.” The old lawyer looked away, but not before Elizabeth saw the pain she’d caused. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“It’s quite all right. It’s not as if I’ve forgotten.”
Elizabeth looked back at the officers. They were still watching her, most likely hating her. “I never visited,” she said. “I tried a few times, but never got past the parking lot. It was hard. I couldn’t do it.”
“Because you loved him.”
It was not a question. Elizabeth felt her jaw drop, the sudden flush. “Why would you say that?”
“I may be old, my dear, but I have never been blind. Beautiful young ladies don’t sit so devotedly in court without good reason. It was hard to miss the way you looked at him.”
“I never … I wasn’t…”
The old lawyer nudged her with a shoulder. “I imply no impropriety. And completely understand why a woman might feel that way. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
She shrugged once, then shifted on the bench and wrapped her arms around a single knee. “How about you?”
“Visit? No. Never.”
“Why not?”
He sighed and stared at the courthouse as another man might stare at an old lover. “I tried at first, but he wouldn’t see me. Everyone hurt. There was nothing to say. Maybe he blamed me for the verdict. I never found out. After that first month, it became a matter of simple avoidance. I told myself I’d try again, then a week went by, and then another. I found reasons to avoid that side of town, the prison, even the road that would take me there. I made up lies and stories, told myself he understood, that I was old and done with the law, and that the relationship had been purely professional. Every day I whittled at the truth of my feelings, buried them deep because it hurt like hell, all of it.” He shook his head, but kept his eyes on the courthouse. “Adrian was there because of my inadequacy. That’s a hard truth for a man like me to accept. So, maybe I drank too much and slept too little. Maybe I turned from my wife and friends and all that ever mattered to me as a man and a lawyer. I lost myself in the guilt because Adrian was, perhaps, the finest man I’d ever represented, and I knew he’d never come out the same. After that, the hatred came like a thief.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Faircloth.”
“I was referring to myself. To the power of self-loathing.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Now? No.”
Elizabeth looked away from the lie. The old man had hurt for a long time. He still did. “How long until he’s out?”
“I’ll post the bond,” Faircloth said. “They’ll drag their feet on principle. A few hours, I imagine. He can come home with me, if he likes. I have room and spare clothes and life, still, in these old bones. He can stay as long as he likes.” The old man struggled to his feet, and Elizabeth guided him back to the sidewalk. “If you’ll help me to my car. It’s there.” He pointed with the cane, and she saw a black car with a driver by the rear door. They moved down the walk, but Faircloth stopped a few feet from the bumper, one hand white on the cane, the other still on her arm. “He did not seem well, did he?”
“No.” Elizabeth frowned. “He did not.”
“The perils of confinement, I suppose.” The driver opened the door, but the lawyer waved him off, a sudden twinkle in his eye. “Why don’t you come by the house tonight? Perhaps between the two of us we can make him feel less forgotten. Shall we say drinks at eight,