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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

593 Riverside Drive - 24. Chapter 24

“So that’s not even the end of your testimony?” Howard asked Ella.

“No. As far as I know, it continues in the morning.”

“At least, you also know that Dr. Casamajor will be the witness in the afternoon,” Lewis reminded her.

“Yes. That will be a relief.”

“But you can be called back?” Essie questioned.

“I believe so.”

“Though not about your appointment books,” I noted. “Judge Crain finished that.”

“Yes.”

“You know what Lewinson was trying to do?” Herbert gently told her. “He was trying to trap you. He very carefully was building his argument, and this afternoon it centered on your headaches and nervousness, not on the sex.”

“It’s true,” I agreed. “He seemed to feel he needed to go over it in every detail – to question how you could possibly be so active and still say you were sick.”

“But finally, Judge Crain had enough,” Herbert said, “and Lewinson stopped – immediately. His job was done, and it turns out he’s not as stupid as we’d like to believe.”

“I feel the same way,” Ella admitted, “though I’m not sure he didn’t succeed. As I kept reading those entries – day after day – I wondered how I could be so busy, considering how ill I felt.”

“You did it to distract yourself,” my mother assured her. “You’ve said that yourself.”

“But how could I go on? And who would I expect to believe me?”

“Anyone who knows you,” Mama insisted. “All of your family and friends. We know you’ve always been social.”

“Yes, but when I was sick, I also stayed home and in bed. And there I was – I thought very sick – and just going out.”

“But you were sick in a different way,” my father argued. “This wasn’t influenza, or the chicken pox, or the grippe.”

“No,” Ella admitted. “It was something no one could see.”

“And you know you’ve never liked to complain,” my mother went on. “None of us have. It’s not the way we were raised.”

“I was,” Howard said grinning. “All I had to do was moan that I had a ‘bitty tummy ache,’ and my grandmother, and mother, and sister – and even my Aunt Jean – would all come running. I was their darling boy.”

“He still is,” I had to concede. “But I love him anyway.”

Ella returned to the trial. “There was something else happening, too. Benno Lewinson had stopped being rude, but while I was answering his questions, I realized what he was doing. And after two days, I began to rebel.”

“I noticed that,” my mother said smiling. “But that isn’t new. Though it’s the first time I’ve seen you do it in court.”

“Yes. Besides correcting Benno Lewinson’s little errors, I tried to let the judge see my side of our marriage.”

“You also made the questions more personal,” I told her, “just by adding your friends’ first names. Lewinson’s always so formal.”

“The trial was more balanced, too,” Lewis confirmed. “I felt better even reading about it.”

“So did I,” Howard seconded.

“I’m curious,” Herbert continued. “Do you have any idea what Lewinson was about to ask when the judge interrupted?”

“I’m afraid he was going to go through both my appointment books – 1923 and 1924 – so the judge could wonder how I could even pretend to be ill.”

“Isn’t there anything Max Steuer could do to stop him?” Essie asked.

“Max said there really wasn’t. He couldn’t object when I was simply confirming evidence I’d been willing to submit.”

“But he had to know it didn’t look good,” Herbert protested.

Ella nodded. “I think he was doing something else, too – something a little clever. He wanted to see how long the judge could remain polite before he stopped Benno Lewinson.”

“Isn’t that what Lewinson wanted?” Howard asked. “Showing he’d completely offered proof?”

“Not if the process irritated the judge,” I countered. Then I laughed. “I can’t help thinking that a woman lawyer – or even a judge – wouldn’t understand that and have been prepared.”

“I suspect that even a man might understand that,” my father offered amused. “In fact, most people do. Yet we still have to visit – or do business with – people we really don’t like. We simply need to.”

“Suffering fools,” Herbert said laughing.

“Or brothers,” Papa joked.

“I’m going to join Howard’s family,” my uncle teased. “I’d be treasured there.”

Again, Essie took us back to the trial. “About this afternoon,” she wondered, “does Max Steuer have any idea how to explain all your appointments – without making you look like a liar?”

“I certainly hope so,” Ella confided. “But it’s not something we’ve discussed.”

“I have another question,” Howard went on, “especially because – like Lewis – I can only read about what’s happening. But does Judge Crain seem to be at all sympathetic to you – in any way?”

“I can’t guess that, either,” Ella confessed. “He mostly has that stern look Pic uses when he’s concentrating.”

Lewis immediately laughed. “I know that expression. When he uses it, I can never tell what Dad’s thinking.”

“And that’s how I feel about the judge,” Ella repeated to Howard.

And I had to agree.

Thanks again to pvtguy for his thoughts about last week's chapter. They helped me deepen this one.
Copyright © 2023 RichEisbrouch; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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As a child of the 80s, when no fault divorces changed lives in much of North America, I find the realities of a century ago very distressing. How intrusive!

Would Lewinson be trying to get the judge to deny the divorce, or to ensure she didn’t get anything from the divorce?

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