Page 37 of Counting Backwards

Andrew leaned back in his chair and let out a long, slow breath.

“Jessa.” He said the one word like it answered everything.

“Please, just hear me out.” A droplet of sweat trickled between my breasts, and I was glad I’d worn a dark high-necked blouse. I should have known he’d try to shut me down from the get-go.

“You’re on the Witlock matter, and you’re basically running the show on Everson Towels and Matherson’s negotiation. It just doesn’t make sense,” he said, steepling his fingers and leaning even farther back. He regarded me a moment and then continued. “Now that you’re thriving again, to put you back into the limelight like that, especially when you’re in the middle of another negotiation... We can’t do it.” He shook his head as he finished.

I’d prepared myself for him to bring up Shantrane, expecting him to point to that case during our meeting. I just hadn’t expected him to get there so quickly.

“It was four years ago, Andrew,” I said, echoing Vance’s words from the night before. Shantrane had been one of our most important clients, and four years earlier, I’d been quite proud of myself when, at only twenty-seven years old, I’d been staffed as one of the leads on the matter. I spent months working with them on a complex negotiation, and when I finally got the other side to agree to Shantrane’s patently unreasonable demands, I’d been a star of the firm.

But then I’d accidentally sent the opposing side an earlier draft of the agreement to sign, not the final version. Both parties signed before our client or anyone at the firm realized the error. The client was stuck with terms significantly less favorable than the ones they’d have gotten had I just double-checked the attachment to one email. Not surprisingly, the firm swiftly lost Shantrane as a client, and I lost all the respect I’d been working so hard to earn.

I would have been fired at another firm, but Andrew’s longtime friendship with my father saved me. Andrew arranged for me to keep my job so long as I kept myself under the radar with clients. Recently, after all this time had passed, and with the solid work I’d produced, I thought I’d finally gotten back to a place of trust and esteem with my colleagues. But not making partner, and the current furrow to Andrew’s brow, said otherwise.

“Our firm has a reputation to uphold, one you greatly jeopardized the last time you were the lead on such a high-profile case.”

“I understand. I really do. And I’m grateful for the chance you’ve given me to prove what I can do. But this case is more important than reputation.” Speaking slowly, I said, “Women in federal custody are having their uteruses removed without their consent, Andrew.” He flinched at my words, surprise and horror flashing across his features. I was desperate to make him understand the urgency of the situation. “It’s forced sterilization. It’s... it’s... eugenics.”

Instead of jumping to his feet to lead the charge like I would have hoped, he stared back at me stoically.

After a beat he asked, “You’re basing this on what? You have proof you can show me?”

Even though I understood many of the senior attorneys at the firm had ceased taking me seriously, I’d been under the impression that Andrew still believed in me, that he thought I was an attorney worth nurturing and supporting. I needed to show him how very serious I was.

I began rattling off all that had been alleged by the women. As I listed one horrid detail after another, he returned to an upright position in his chair again, his gaze intensifying as if I actually had his attention now.

“But only one woman is willing to be named in the complaint?”

“So far,” I answered. “Only one woman so far. But the others—I know I can get them on board once they know they’re not alone. They’re afraid of the retaliation. But with each one who steps up, I think others will follow. Meanwhile, this doctor, this butcher, is getting away with it.”

Andrew went silent as he thought over my words. He stared blankly down at his desk, the way I’d seen him do so many times in the past. He would retreat into himself when he was parsing through complex issues until he came up with a solution. The longer he maintained that vacant stare, the more optimistic I began to feel.

“Please, Andrew. What if it were your daughter at risk?” The moment the words escaped my mouth, I wished I could take them back. It was the wrong thing to say. A man like Andrew could never envision his own daughter in a situation like this. He clammed up again and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Jessa. It sounds like a worthwhile case, but I can’t put our firm on the line like that. A case like this would be all over the news, and if it turns out you’re wrong...” He let me fill in the blanks in my mind. “It’s too big of a risk for the firm. You’re talking about going after the federal government.”

“That’s exactly the point,” I answered. “I have to bring the case, Andrew.”

“I’m sorry, but for the sake of Dillney, Forsythe & Lowe, I can’t let you do it.” His tone said the matter was settled, but I refused to back down.

“What if I took a leave of absence?” I surprised myself with the suggestion, but suddenly I knew it was the right thing. “I could filethe case on my own, as a solo practitioner. If I did that, would you let me come back? After the case was over?”

He let out a long sigh as he regarded me.

“Honestly? Depending on how it goes, this could become a very high-profile case. If you lose...” He trailed off, and I once again heard everything he wasn’t saying. His lack of support was a surprising betrayal, his willingness to totally shut me down providing a rude awakening about where I actually stood with him. I waited, determined that I wouldn’t make this easier on him.

“Jessa,” he said, his voice tired, “if the press decided the case was some kind of political move or a wild-goose chase, it’d be too much of a liability. Especially with the bad press after Shantrane, all of it focused on the same one attorney. Clients would wonder why we kept you on, and it’d weaken trust in the firm.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I won’t lose,” I said.

“You’re really willing to take that chance?” Andrew asked. “You think this is what your father would want?”

I felt a burst of anger that he’d bring my dad into this, especially when he knew how important my father was to me.

But maybe it was exactly the right question.

“This is definitely what my father would want,” I answered, realizing as I said it that it was absolutely the truth. I pictured my dad telling me to count off in my head, and I felt new strength. “I won’t lose,” I repeated, as much of a promise as it was a wish.