The jury stared at the floor.

Defense table eye contact was avoided and no one was smiling.

55.

The afternoon light lay low across the courtyard, a horizontal plane seeking entry into the dim courtroom. Overheads had been clicked to BRIGHT settings and everyone was tired. The jury was out, the judge had retired to chambers, and the lawyers were sitting with their feet propped up, making calls on their cell phones and surfing on their laptops.

At long last, the bailiff stuck his head in and announced a verdict. Immediately the lawyers hopped to, arranging themselves and straightening ties, leaping to their feet as Judge Moody appeared as if an apparition that walked through the wall, floated to his lofty place and spread his wings as he settled. The jury filed in and took their customary seats in the jury box.

Judge Moody said, "Madam Foreperson, has the jury returned its verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

"Please read the verdict out loud."

"We the jury do find in favor of the plaintiff Chase Staples and award him damages in the amount of fifty million dollars."

Judge Moody nodded solemnly. "That's it, then?"

"And we award punitive damages for destroying records and conspiring to destroy this baby's life of one hundred fifty million dollars. Now that's it."

Bedlam erupted. Chase cried, John Staples swung him in his arms, Latoya sobbed, Christine shook Thaddeus' hand, and Manny cheered from the back row. Until the judge gave him a long, severe look. Then the lawyer left the courtroom.

THIRTY MINUTES later a scene took place on the courthouse sidewalk. Morgana and A.W were standing toe to toe. A.W was gesturing furiously.

"Those records could only have come from you!" the senior litigator cried.

"You're right."

"But why?"

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. "Let's just say I decided to settle the case without you or Sandy."

"I have already called the office. Your check has been seized. No more pay for you. Your benefits have been cut off. Your 401(k) is frozen pending the result of our lawsuit against you. Which will be filed at eight o'clock in the morning."

"I'll get another job. Or maybe not."

"Your American Express is canceled."

"I have other cards."

"Your partnership is rescinded. You've been terminated."

"I never liked my partners. You're all crazy as bat shit."

"And Judge Moody has turned this case over to the U.S. Attorney for prosecution. You're headed for federal penitentiary time for perjury."

"You've got me there."

"You'll lose your law license. That's a given."

"I'll coach junior high girls' basketball."

"We'll see that you never coach at any school."

"No, that I doubt you can do. This is a pretty big country and there are lots of little kids who need a great coach."

The old man's Mercedes pulled to the curb and flashed its lights. A.W. stormed away and climbed into the back seat of the black limousine. It roared away from the curb and disappeared into traffic. Morgana watched the limo disappear, then looked up and down the street. No cabs were in sight. Just then, a weathered old Crown Victoria pulled over to the curb. It was Latoya and she leaned across the seat and rolled down the window.

Latoya smiled and motioned her over. "Going somewhere?"

"I have six blocks to walk to my car."

"Need a ride?

"I do. I do need a ride."

"Hop in. Climb in back with John and Chase."

Morgana crossed around to the traffic side and climbed in the back seat. Chase sat next to her in his car seat. For once the baby was reasonably happy. Morgana sat back, put her arm up around Chase, and a smile came to her face.

Morgana tweaked his foot and laughed, "Chase, could you spare me a hundred until payday?"

The old Crown Vic rolled away from the curb in a haze of smoke and disappeared into rush hour traffic.

56.

They chose Iowa City because of the college influence and the validating effect that liberal institution would have on same sex couples.

Caroline and Morgana piled their luggage into the yellow cab's trunk and climbed in the back seat. The flight from Chicago had been uneventful though bumpy due to low-hanging cumulus over central Iowa. They rode the cab into downtown Iowa City and the driver pulled in at the Sheraton Hotel drive-through. After check-in they found their room and ordered room service.

"Now to find City Hall," said Morgana. "And get a license."

"Is there a waiting period? Blood tests? Any of that crap?" asked Caroline.

"Unknown. Let me call City Hall."

They found that they could obtain the license from Johnson County and there would be a three-day waiting period. They had arrived on Thursday so the license would be valid on Monday.

They took a cab, went to the Johnson County desk, paid the thirty-five dollars, signed papers, and had their license.

They ran back outside, squealing and laughing, Morgana waving the license and showing pedestrians, who would smile and nod and step around her.

They caught a cab back to the hotel, ordered room service again, and began scanning for in-room videos. It was going to take Friday plus the weekend, but they had plenty of sightseeing planned and exulted at being together with no interruptions.

"We're putting the honeymoon before the marriage," said Morgana. "Any objections from the crowd?"

"Not here," Caroline laughed.

"Hearing none, let the movies, lovemaking, and sightseeing begin. Not to mention the seafood. I want lobster tonight."

"Done."

"By the way, do I have a job yet?"

"None!"

"Then let the party begin!"

57.

They were married eight weeks when the pain became too difficult to bear without a constant drip. She found herself tethered to a pole. Which meant she was spending long periods in bed. Morgana's pancreatic cancer was a death warrant. She was Stage IV and the five-year survival rate was one percent. Morphine was the treatment modality for the severe back pain she was experiencing.

The pain grew worse, much worse. The added morphine was leaving her increasingly drowsy and nauseous.

Ten weeks out, the morphine's effectiveness abruptly fell off. Additional opiates were prescribed, which would help for a few days, then those would fall away as well.

Caroline was with her constantly, leaving her bedside only to bring water and obtain medical marijuana. Illinois had at long last implemented a pilot program and twenty-two grow labs around the state were selling out faster than the pot could be produced. Dr. Rabinowitz prescribed the marijuana for Morgana's nausea and the pot did actually help her in occasionally eating, though by then most sustenance arrived in a tube that snaked into the back of her hand.

Twelve weeks out she was in constant pain so severe that when she was conscious she was crying and begging Caroline to do something.

"I've called Doctor Rabinowitz. He wants you to go to hospice."

"I won't leave our home!" Morgana cried. "This is where I choose to die, at home, in my own bed!"

"I'll call him again."

But she was dying and there was no more help. Dr. Rabinowitz paid a house call and held Morgana's hand while he spoke to her in very soothing tones. "There's nothing else I can offer, Morgana. We've done all we can for you. We can step up the morphine but you'll be rendered unconscious. Is that what you choose for me to do?"

Morgana thought it over. "Yes," she said. "That's my choice."

"We'll give you very specific instructions so you do not overdose. We don't want that."

"We don't?" whispered Morgana, fighting off a wave of unrelenting pain that now covered her entire torso and paralyzed her legs. Caroline would carry her to the bathroom when there was time, or would change diapers day and night, usually both.

"We don't want an overdose for you. For one thing, there's no physician-assisted suicide in this state, if that's what you're thinking."

"It is what I'm thinking."

"All oncologists in Illinois know the law by heart. You're a lawyer. You can read it on your laptop at Sec. 12-34.5. Inducement to commit suicide. The law is very clear that I would be committing a class two felony were I to help you commit suicide."

Caroline raised her hand. "Hold on a sec. What if I help her do it?"

"Same law would apply."

"Even though I'm not a doctor?"

"Right. The law applies to everyone, not just doctors."

Caroline seemed to know where she was going with this. "All right. You do your part by increasing the amount of morphine she needs to stay pain free."

"And?" the doctor said.

"Don't ask," said Caroline gravely. "Just please, don't ask."

"Very well. I'll make the orders and instruct the nurse."

"Thank you, Doctor Rabinowitz," Morgana moaned. "For everything."

"Of course. Now I need to get back to the office."

"Sure."

"But I'll see you again."

"Of course."

He squeezed Morgana's foot and shook Caroline's hand. "God bless," he said, and headed downstairs.