However, true to his word, Joe hadn’t given up without a fight. He argued against Crawford’s ability to parent Georgia as well as he and Grace did.
Holly had been subpoenaed, and had truthfully testified to his losing his temper and assaulting his father-in-law. But during cross examination, Bill Moore had made certain that the judge heard from her the extenuating circumstances that explained and justified his behavior that day in the park.
The judge took it all under advisement, and, after three tortuous days, Bill Moore called Crawford. “You got her. Congratulations. Don’t fuck up.”
Heart bursting, he said, “For this call, you can bill me double.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
Watching Georgia now, testing out the bed by bouncing on it, he asked Holly, “Why do you think the judge ruled in my favor?”
“He was won over when you said there was a big difference between a father and a daddy. You’d had a father. You wanted to be Georgia’s daddy.” She hesitated, then said softly, “I went by his grave yesterday and left flowers.”
“How’d you know where it was?”
“I checked at the cemetery office.”
She had wanted to be at the burial service, but Crawford wouldn’t hear of it, saying her attendance would raise eyebrows and beg explanations.
Only a handful of people attended the graveside service. Crawford notified his mother in California. She sent her condolences and a scrawny spray of flowers. A few men from the sawmill came, and one of Conrad’s legal colleagues from back in the day. Harry and Sessions surprised Crawford by driving up from Houston for it. Neal and Nugent were there, Nugent fidgeting.
Throat tight, he said to Holly now, “You wouldn’t think I’d miss him, but I do. He was never around, but I knew he was there. I grieve him, and all because of those last few seconds of his life. He hugged me. We smiled at each other. I don’t recall that happening since I wasn’t much older than Georgia is now.”
“He died doing something for you, and that was important to him. I think you need to hear what he told me that night.”
She related their conversation. “He ended by saying he would be proud for Georgia to know him as he was in his heyday.”
Crawford, his voice gruff with emotion, said, “I’ll tell her about him, when she’s older and can understand, and I can figure out a way to say it all. I’m not very good at stuff like that.”
“That is so untrue. Chet’s eulogy was beautiful.”
He’d served as a pallbearer and, at Mrs. Barker’s request, he’d delivered a brief but heartfelt tribute.
“Will you ever tell Georgia about her parentage?”
He replied without hesitation. “Definitely. At the very least she should know that she has the medical and genetic history of only one parent. I’ll tell her when she’s old enough to understand all the implications.”
“The most important one being how much you love her. When Beth told you she wasn’t your baby, you could have rejected her.”
“Not a chance in hell. I know what it’s like to have parents wash their hands of you. I vowed then that Georgia was never going to feel like she’d been discarded.”
“That’s why she’ll love you so much.”
“She’s crazy about you.”
“Is she?”
“Holly said this, Holly said that. Where is Holly’s house? Can Holly come with us?” He looked down at her. “Honestly, I’m a little jealous.”
For weeks leading up to the custody hearing, his life had been as he’d predicted—consumed by the fallout from the Otterman denouement. He and Holly had talked daily, sometimes several times a day, but had refrained from seeing each other. Each was still under close public scrutiny. He’d been far more concerned for her than for himself.
“I won’t let you lose the election because of your association with me.”
But once the custody ruling had been made, restrictions no longer applied. They began appearing in public together. When this was slyly remarked upon by Greg Sanders, Marilyn issued the statement she’d prepared for the eventuality. It described their “growing friendship” as “one happy outcome of the crisis situation they had shared and survived.”
She’d been retained to see Holly through the election, on the condition that Crawford and Georgia not be exploited. So far, she was abiding by that condition.
“I spoke to the governor today,” Holly told him now.
“What did he have to say?”
“Nothing about me. All about you. He wants to meet you.”
Crawford looked down at her skeptically.
“I’m serious. He called you a favorite son of Texas. Asked if your gunshot wound—” She stopped and glared up at him.
“I knew it was only a flesh wound.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I had stuff to do that night before going to the hospital.”
Still looking put out with him over his self-diagnosis, which had cost him a loss of blood and the threat of serious infection, she said, “Governor Hutchins wants to shake your hand. He stands solidly behind his decision to appoint me.”
“You’re a shoo-in.”