“No, it didn't. He killed his wife, himself, and my husband last year on Christmas Day. If you hit your husband too hard, he may hurt you or your son. And I'm not going to be a party to that.” There was a long silence between them as the woman nodded.

“I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, so am I. Now here's what we are going to do.” They made a list of dangerous activities that he wouldn't be allowed to do, and Liz called the court-appointed mediator while the woman sat there. But the mediation office was swamped and the first appointment they could give her was on January eleventh. It was three and a half weeks away, and to help the situation along, Liz agreed to write him a letter of warning in the meantime.

“It won't do anything,” the woman looked at Liz bleakly. “If you don't hit him over the head with a hammer, he won't get it.”

“If we do, maybe you or your son will,” Liz repeated. “And I know you don't want that.” It was an impressive threat, and the woman left Liz's office feeling helpless. But at least Liz felt she hadn't jeopardized her client or her son when she went home that night, and the kids finally seemed in better spirits.

It had been the last day of school that day, and Carole had promised to take the four younger ones skating. Peter and his new girlfriend had a date for dinner and a movie. And Liz was looking forward to a quiet evening alone when the phone rang at nine-thirty. The voice on the other end was hysterical, and it took her a minute to recognize it. It was the client she had seen that afternoon, for whom she had scheduled the mediation. And to give her a sense of security, she had given her her home phone number. The woman's name was Helene, and she sounded nearly incoherent.

“Helene, calm down, and try to tell me what happened.” It took more than five minutes to understand the story clearly. Her husband, Scott, had taken their son Justin joyriding on the hills in San Francisco on his motorcycle. She wasn't sure if he'd been drunk or not, but it was a possibility, and the child hadn't been wearing a helmet, when they were hit by a truck. Both of Justin's legs were broken, and he had a head injury, although by some miracle he had landed in a patch of grass outside someone's house. He was in pediatric intensive care at Children's Hospital in San Francisco, and his father was in critical condition and still in a coma. The police had come to her house to tell her. The only comforting part of the story for Liz was that even if she'd agreed to take the son of a bitch to court, they wouldn't have gotten there yet, and it wouldn't have changed what had just happened. It wasn't her fault, but whether or not it was, Helene's little boy was in grave danger.

“Where are you now?” Liz asked as she stood up and reached for her handbag still sitting on the end of her bed.

“I'm at the ICU at Children's.”

“Is someone with you?”

“No, I'm alone,” she sobbed into the phone. She was from New York, and wanted to move back, as soon as her husband would agree to let her.

“I'll be there in twenty minutes,” Liz said, and hung up on her without waiting for an answer. She grabbed her coat on her way out the front door, glad that she had decided not to go skating with her children. She'd been feeling guilty about it, but she'd been so tired and depressed that she had opted not to.

She parked her car outside the hospital eighteen minutes later, and when she got to the ICU, she found Helene sobbing in the arms of a nurse. They had just taken Justin upstairs to put pins in both his legs, but the nurse said he was conscious and the head injury was nothing more than a bad concussion. The child, and his mother, had been very lucky. But sitting in the hospital with her, as they waited, reminded her of Bill again. She wondered how he was, and what he was doing. She knew there was no point thinking about it anymore, it had been more than three weeks now, and she knew he wasn't going to call her. He had made up his mind, and stuck to it. Bill was that kind of person. And the terrors she and her family represented were just too much for him.

Justin came back from the operating room shortly after midnight. He was still sedated, and his legs were bandaged to the hip and he looked like a little rag doll as he lay there, but the doctor said he'd be as good as new eventually, and in six months or a year, they'd take the pins out.

Helene cried as she listened to him, but she was calmer than she'd been when Liz had arrived. They had talked for hours about what they were going to do. She had finally convinced Liz. They were going to court, and putting every restriction on her husband they could, and then Liz wanted her to go back to New York. Helene was young and had family there, and even an old boyfriend who'd been calling and was hinting about marriage. Liz wanted her out of town and as far from her ex-husband as she could get her.

“And then,” she looked at Helene with a sad smile, as the child's mother walked her to the elevator and thanked her for keeping her company all night. “And then, I'm going to retire,” Liz said, with a sigh of relief. It was all she wanted. She'd had it with family law, and she'd been thinking about it for months. This was all she'd needed to convince her. She'd thought about it again on the way to the hospital and she was sure now.

“What are you going to do instead?”

“Grow roses,” she laughed, “and clip coupons. No, actually, I'm going to do something I really want to do, and have for a long time. I'm going to be an advocate for children. I'm going to work out of my house, and close the office I shared with my husband. I've done it alone for the last year, and it just isn't what I want.” She looked better than she had in weeks when she said it, and Helene thanked Liz again before she left.

“I'll call you when I get a court date.” She smiled at her client as the elevator doors closed, and she knew as she walked to her car with a lighter step that she had made the right decision. She wondered if that was how Bill had felt when he called to tell her it was over. Maybe it was, she thought to herself. Maybe she had been as big a burden for him, and as wrong, as the practice she had shared with Jack had become for her once he was gone. If so, she had to respect Bill's decision. But she had made hers that night, finally, as she sat holding Helene's hand, wanting to kill her ex-husband for what he had done to Justin, out of pure wanton negligence and irresponsibility. Helene's ex-husband was still in a coma when Liz left the hospital, and there was a possibility of brain damage, but at least Justin was going to be all right, and to Liz, that was all that mattered.

She drove into her driveway on Hope Street shortly after one o'clock, and everyone was in bed, except Peter, who had just come in from his date, and he was surprised to see his mother. She never went anywhere anymore, except court and work. He hadn't seen her out in the evening since Bill left.

“Where were you, Mom?”

“At the hospital, with a client. It's a long story.” They chatted for a minute and then she went up to bed. She was absolutely exhausted, but pleased with the decision she'd made that night. She knew without a doubt it was the right one.

And the next morning when she got to the office, she called the court and set a date for a hearing. She called Helene at the hospital to tell her. Helene said Justin was all right, and he'd be going home with her in a few days, but when Liz told her about the court date, she said quietly that they didn't need one.

“You're not feeling guilty about going to court against him, are you, Helene? No judge in any county would be sympathetic to a man who took his six-year-old son out on a motorcycle without a helmet. You've got the goods on him now, you might as well use them.”

“I don't need to.”

“Why not?” Liz looked blank as she waited. Her mind was already full of what she was going to say at the hearing. It was set for the week between Christmas and New Year's.

“Scott died of a massive brain hemorrhage last night,” she said quietly, and to her credit, she sounded sad. But he had been her husband, and her son's father.

“Oh …” Liz said, startled into silence for a moment. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I … I've hated him for the past two years, but he's still Justin's father. I haven't told him yet.” Hearing that made Liz squeeze her eyes shut, and it brought home to her what had happened.

“I'm really sorry.” The child was going to be heartbroken, even if Helene wasn't. “Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you.”

“I guess you know what that's like, for your kids, I mean.”

“Yes, I do. It's going to be hard for a long time. We haven't gotten over it yet.”

“I'm going back to New York to stay with my parents, as soon as Justin can travel.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

They hung up a minute later, and Liz was still looking pensive when Jean wandered into her office. “What was that all about?” She had heard Liz telling Helene she was sorry, and knew she'd been with her at the hospital nearly all night. She looked shocked when Liz told her.

“It's incredible the things people are willing to do to their kids,” Jean said, with a look of disapproval.

“Which brings me to another piece of bad news,” Liz said, feeling guilty, but she had wanted to tell her all morning. It was good news for her, but not for Jean. And Liz was going to be sorry to lose her. “I don't know how to tell you this, except straight on,” which was how Liz did everything, it was one of the things Jean loved about her. “I'm closing the office.”

“You're retiring?” Jean looked stunned, although she knew she shouldn't have. Liz had been carrying an insanely heavy load ever since her husband died, and Jean had figured that it was only a matter of time before Liz decided she just couldn't do it. The truth was she could, but she didn't want to. Not without Jack. And she didn't want another partner.

“I'm going to work part-time, from home, on child advocacy. It's what I really loved about what we did. I hated all the catfights and all the fancy footwork, and all the bravado and bullshit. That was always more Jack's style than mine. I care about the kids, and that's all I want to do now.”

Jean smiled generously at her, and came around the desk to give her a hug. “You did the right thing, kid. This place is going to kill you. You'll be great at the child advocacy stuff.”

“I hope so.” Liz looked worried then. “But what are you going to do? I've been thinking about it all morning.”

“It's time for me to grow up too. This may sound crazy at my age”—she was forty-three—” I want to go to law school.” Liz beamed at her, and then laughed. It was the perfect solution.

“Well, don't go into family law, you'll hate it.”

“I want to go into criminal, and work in the prosecutor's office.”

“Good for you.” Liz estimated it would take her three months to wind up all her cases, and then she wanted to take a few months off, and let everyone know what she'd be doing. She had earned a break, and she wanted to spend the time with her children. They had been patient for the last year, while she kept a dozen balls in the air, and worked long hours and endless days. She felt as though she owed it to them to take a break now.

“If I apply to law school before the end of the year,” Jean said, looking pleased, “I should be able to start in June, or at the latest September. That'll give me a couple of months off too. It'll do us both good.” They both felt as though they had aged a century in the last year, although they didn't look it.

Liz was still sitting at her desk chatting with Jean when Carole called, and Jean thought she detected a note of panic, but Jean didn't say anything to Liz when she told her Carole was on the phone. She figured it was just her imagination, and Carole was too busy over Christmas with the kids home.

“Hi there.” Liz was feeling expansive and relaxed, after having made her momentous decision. “What's up?”

“Jamie.” The way she said it rang a bell from the previous summer. She was speaking in shorthand.

“What happened?” Liz felt a sudden wave of panic as she waited for an answer.

“He was trying to hang a papier-mâché angel we made on the Christmas tree. He got the ladder out while I was doing something for Meg, and he fell. I think his arm is broken.”

“Shit.” It was five days before Christmas. And now that Liz listened carefully, she could hear him crying in the background.

“How bad is it?”

“It's at a very nasty angle.”

“I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can get there.” At least it was nothing as dramatic as what had happened to Peter, or little Justin the night before. But it was the first time Jamie had broken anything, and she knew he'd be panicked. She grabbed her coat and bag and ran out the door as Jean asked her what had happened. “Broken arm,” Liz shouted as she ran down the stairs. There never seemed to be a minute to just sit down and enjoy life. But what was there to enjoy these days anyway? Christmas was looming like a boulder about to fall on them, Jack was gone, and so was Bill now too. Merry Christmas.