"Yes." He neither hesitated nor averted his eyes.
The crowd murmured, half in surprise and half in sympathy.
Then Lloyd turned his head and looked into the eyes of Charley Bates. He seemed to challenge her to make something of the judge's declaration. Her face showed only sympathy.
He let his eyes drift away. Sympathy was not what he wanted from her.
"Why can't you father a biological child?" asked Judge Witherspoon.
"It's personal."
"I'm trying to decide whether to leave six vulnerable children permanently, or even temporarily, in your custody, Mr. Schifflebein. So, don't imply that what I'm asking is none of my business."
"It's just ... it's nothing to do with my ch—with these children."
The judge leaned closer to Lloyd. "Mr. Schifflebein, you say you are not mentally unbalanced, yet you can hardly deny that you seem obsessed with raising children – and specifically these particular children. You are not married. You will not tell this Court why you cannot father biological children of your own. You give me little reason to rule in your favor, Mr. Schifflebein."
Remmy Jackson heaved herself onto her feat. "I'll tell you!"
Lloyd stood. "Shut up, Remmy!" He glanced at the children and amended himself. "I mean, be quiet. Please."
"I will not be quiet. It was all my fault. And if you think I'm gonna sit still and keep quiet while people lie about you and hurt you and take yo' kids away from you for no good reason, then you crazier'n they think you are."
Judge Witherspoon was the only person in the room who seemed not at all shocked by Remmy's outburst or Lloyd's protest.
"Mrs. Jackson," the judge said calmly, "do you have information you believe this Court needs to hear?"
"I sho' do, Yer Honor," said Remmy. "Lloyd and me was raised together in foster homes. I can tell you what you wants to know."
"But you won't!" Lloyd insisted.
"They gon' take dese kids, Lloyd. And I done got 'nuff on my conscience already. Now, you tell 'em, or I will."
Lloyd and Remmy faced one another for a long moment. The crowd held completely still.
Finally, regret replaced the anger in Lloyd's face. Remmy's determination dissolved into sympathetic tears.
"It wasn't your fault, Remmy. None of it was ever your fault," he said.
"I love you," said Remmy. "But you got to stop trying to be perfect. It's just stubborn pride. You too proud and too private for yo' own good, and if you won't speak up for yo'self right now, I'll do it for you – in front of these precious chil'ren. Wouldn't it be better if I take the kids outside and you just ... just tell the truth."
Lloyd nodded at last. Remmy began gathering the children to usher them from the room.
"No!" cried Lucy, pulling away from Remmy's outstretched hand. Lucy turned toward Lloyd. "We can't go! You need us with you!"
Lloyd smiled at his red-haired, motherly nine-year-old. "I always want you with me, Luce. But right now I need you to take the little ones outside with Remmy. Just for a few minutes. Please."
The children left, with many sad and hopeful looks toward Lloyd, who watched them go with his soul pooling in his eyes. When the door shut behind them, Lloyd's gaze fell to his boot tops.
"You and Remmy Jackson went through several foster homes together," the judge prompted him.
"Yes."
"You got along fairly well until Remmy reached puberty, isn't that right?"
Lloyd nodded. "She was pretty. She was ... developing, y'know? Looked older than we were. The man at the house where we were staying, he, ah, he ... took an interest in Remmy."
The judge nodded. "And one night he got drunk and decided to take a more active interest."
Indrawn breath could be heard from the crowd.
"I heard Remmy scream," Lloyd said. "And I ran to her room. I pulled him off her, and he went berserk." Lloyd's face had gone blank, and his eyes were focused far away, on a room where a nightmare had been real, in a time long ago.
"You were how old?" said the judge. "Twelve?"
"Just turned thirteen. I was short and scrawny, back then. He was big – and mad and drunk. I didn't stand a chance."
"So you put yourself between the man and Remmy and made sure the blows fell on you, not on her."
Lloyd nodded.
In the crowd, some were sniffling. Hepzibah Stoner sat stoically, and behind her Charley Bates wept almost soundlessly. Hepzibah fished a tissue from her purse and passed it back over her shoulder to Charley.
Judge Witherspoon continued, "Remmy got away and called the police. They pulled the man off you when they got there, but the damage was already done, wasn't it."
Lloyd nodded.
"He kicked you. He knocked you to the floor and kicked you again and again until the police arrived. How long?"
"Years," said Lloyd. "Or seconds. I don't know. He wore these big cowboy boots with silver tips on the pointed toes. I remember wondering if blood was bad for silver."
Lloyd was staring at, but not seeing, his own feet when Charley Bates got up and left the room. Hepzibah Stoner followed her.
Down the hall in the ladies' room Charley Bates washed her face and applied fresh makeup, trying to hide the evidence of weeping. Hepzibah Stoner entered the room and pretended she was there to freshen her own lipstick.
"Leaving?" Hepzibah asked.
"I'm supposed to get married on the sixth floor of the Annex in thirty minutes."
"Really." Hepzibah put away her lipstick, closed her purse and moved toward the door. "I'm surprised at you, Miss Bates."
Charley looked up and met Hepzibah's gaze in the mirror.
Hepzibah smiled. "I took you for the type who would run away and join the circus, given half a chance."
When Hepzibah left the room, Charley stared at the closing door in bemusement.
Hepzibah re-entered the courtroom to see Lloyd sitting back in his chair as if exhausted while the judge leafed through papers on her desk.
At a signal from the judge, Bailiff Orkney left the room and returned leading Remmy and the six children.
Lloyd pulled himself upright in his chair and produced a reassuring smile for the children. They smiled back, but warily.
Judge Witherspoon waited until the children had taken their front-row seats between Remmy and Hepzibah. The crowd that had been whispering and muttering among themselves during the transition, quieted at last.
"Is there anything else you'd like to tell this Court, Mr. Schifflebein?"
"I'm not crazy, Your Honor," he said. "I only want to be a good father to my children – and they are my children, no matter what anybody says. All my life I've been preparing for them. I had to be ready to be both father and mother, so I learned how to cook and sew. I invested my savings and set up college trust funds for them. I remodeled my house, I built furniture for each of them, I made them toys, I put together a library of books and movies and music. I planned for this job, this playground job, so I would be able to work at home instead of leaving them with sitters."
"Yes," said the judge. "All that for children you didn't even have."
"I knew they were coming someday."
The judge fixed Lloyd with a direct, demanding look from which there could be no retreat or equivocation. "How, Mr. Schifflebein?" she said. "How did you know they were coming?"
Murmurs rumbled through the crowd.
"What?"
"How did you know?"
"I'm not crazy, Judge Witherspoon."
"Was Mona Zapruder crazy, Mr. Schifflebein?"
Lloyd stared at the judge with a mixture of awe and horror. Remmy, in her seat, mouthed "Mona Zapruder?" silently. The rumbling undertone in the crowd sounded confused.
The judge pounded her gavel and stood. "This Court will recess for thirty minutes. Mr. Schifflebein, please join me in my chambers."
"All rise!" shouted Bailiff Orkney.
The judge exited. The crowd stood and milled around, murmuring even louder.
In the front row, the children stood, confused. Lloyd hurried to the dividing rail and reached for Rudy's hand. He finger-spelled something into Rudy's palm while talking to the others.
"It's okay," Lloyd told them, hoping that he himself believed it. "Everything's okay. Why don't you all use this time to go to the restroom and get a drink of water. I love you."
He left them and trotted to the door behind the judge's bench. He found Judge Witherspoon waiting for him on the other side of the open portal. She gestured for him to close the door. He did and followed her to her chambers.
The judge's chambers proved to be an impressive office suite with Victorian furniture and the smell of traditional oil soap lovingly rubbed into the woodwork. The judge tossed her pile of documents onto her desk as she crossed the room to her credenza. Lloyd entered, taking in the excellence of the carpentry in the walls, crown moldings, desk, and credenza. He stopped beside one of several leather-upholstered visitor chairs.
"How could you know about Mona Zapruder?" he said. "How did you know any of that stuff you've been reading in there? What's in that fat file?"
"See for yourself," said the judge, with her back to him as she arranged something on her credenza.
Lloyd swept the file folder from the desk and opened it. The pages in it were all blank. He rifled through them, checking fronts and backs of all the papers. There was simply nothing there.
"Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Schifflebein?" The judge turned toward him, and in her hand, lifted for pouring, was Mona Zapruder's ancient teapot. The teapot smiled and winked at Lloyd.
"Oh goodness."