The Judge

Following a quick breakfast we went for another walk, this time in a different direction. The countryside was much the same,

with one difference. Along one road was a small pond set back in the trees. When she spied the pond Vivian exclaimed,

“When I was in high school I went skinny-dipping there with some friends, girl friends.”

“You didn’t,” I joshed

“Yes, and we were embarrassed as some boys came along and taunted us. They wouldn’t go away so we had to swim to the

other side and dress as quickly as we could. Fortunately, they were boys we didn’t know or our parents would have found

out.”

“It looks like a good place to skinny-dip,” I remarked.

“Would you like to, right now?” she asked.

I looked at her and hesitated, until I saw the appeal in her eyes, then I said, “How will you explain wet hair to your family?”

“They’re going to church so we’ll wait until they leave before going home.”

“And if someone sees us?”

“How many cars have you seen go by?”

“None.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” She climbed over the fence and walked around to the far side of the pond. “Watch out for

poison ivy.”

When Vivian removed her clothes I gasped at the perfection of her body.

“Come on, slow-poke,” she teased, then noticed I had an erection. “The cold water will take care of your plumbing problem.”

And it did. Vivian turned away so I could undress without further embarrassment. As soon as I entered the water the coldness

cooled me down quickly.

We frolicked in the water, did a lot of close quarter hugging, which aroused me again, in spite of the cold. After a half hour

Vivian said, “I think we can go home now,” and kissed me with even more fervor than usual.

As we walked home I commented, “You said your family was going to church. Did I keep you from going to church with

them?”

She looked at me and squeezed my hand. “What we did was more fun than going to church, wasn’t it?”

I had to agree.

“I don’t attend church regularly. Usually on special occasions such as Christmas, or weddings. My family doesn’t attend

regularly either. I think they went today to give us some space.”

“They gave us space, all right. Are you going to tell them we went skinny-dipping?”

“I don’t think so.”

When we arrived back at the house the family was gone, as Vivian said they would be.

My flight back to New Haven was scheduled for 3 P.M. Vivian drove me to the airport early enough so that I had more than an

hour before check-in, which is the way airlines like it these days. On the way we agreed that I should return the following

weekend, following the same schedule as this weekend. I kissed her goodbye when we were still sitting in the car, a long, lip-

crushing one.

* * *

When I entered the manor Mrs. Campbell stopped me and said, “The judge said he wished to see you as soon as you got

home. He’s in the den.”

I knocked, then entered. The judge handed me a glass of wine and asked, “How was your weekend?”

“Beautiful, I asked Vivian to marry me and she accepted.”

“That’s delightful news; I congratulate both of you. I asked Mrs. Campbell to send you in here as I have news that might

interfere with your next weekend.”

“Oh!” I replied.

“One of the judges on the superior court bench was scheduled to preside at a homicide trial beginning tomorrow but had a

heart attack yesterday and I’ve been asked to sit in for him. The trial has been postponed for a week so I’ll have time to

prepare and I’ll need your help. Hopefully, I can be prepared by Friday so it won’t spoil your weekend, but there’s a possibility

I’ll need more time.”

“If you need me, you need me; that’s why I’m here. Will you need secretarial help also? If so, Andy could come.”

“That won’t be necessary; the courts always provide a secretary.”

“Will she transcribe the proceedings so we can add it to your files?”

“I’ll make sure she does that.”

I called Vivian that evening to apprize her of this new development. “Judge Summers thinks he might not need me Saturday

but I wanted to let you know what the situation is.”

“Oh, Charlie,” she replied. “I know you have to work and it’s part of your job; but that doesn’t make it easier. Hold on until I go

outside with my phone; I’ll be able to talk more freely then.”

“Okay.” I assumed one of the family was in the same room as Vivian and she wanted to tell me something for my ears only.

“Are you still there?”

“I’m here; did you have something to tell me too private for others to hear?”

“Yes, Kaitlin was in the room with me and I wanted to tell you I had a long talk with Mother right after you left, about sex. She is

so understanding; she said she understood our problem and would release me from my promise if we both took precautions.

“She says she’ll have our doctor, who is a woman, fit me with a diaphragm, and that you should wear a condom. Would that

be okay with you?’

“You know, Sweetheart, each day you say or do something that takes my breath away. Your mother is a wise woman and she

must know how much we love each other. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“You know what, you’re not the only one who gets turned on. After our skinny-dipping I was ready but you were reluctant.”

“I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That we might have sex without taking precautions.”

“Oh dear! Let’s not let that happen.”

“If you can’t come Friday, come Saturday. After all, it’s Labor Day weekend and we’ll still have three days. And bring some

condoms.”

“Some? How many?”

“Just be prepared; I have some plans for you.”

“Tell me what you have planned.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

We talked for another half hour and she wouldn’t budge about what she had planned. When we said goodnight, both of us

said, “I love you,” with a shaky voice.

I went to sleep that night puzzling over what Vivian had planned for the weekend, and hoping I didn’t have to work Saturday so

we would have the full weekend together.

I drove Judge Summers to the courthouse in New Haven in the morning and parked along the street until the judge obtained a

parking permit that allowed me to park inside the court parking garage. As the saying goes: Privilege has its advantages.

There wasn’t much I could do on that first day except help the judge sort out the office to his liking. Then, I became a gofer,

going to one office or another, or to the archives in the basement for files or records of some kind. Each different place

required a note from the judge stating who I was and what he needed. I got no refusals from anybody. Apparently, his power

was still in existence.

Meanwhile, the judge spent his time reading reports and documents prepared by his predecessor. By morning’s end I was

worn out and the judge was eye weary. We took a two hour lunch break in which he consumed three martinis but no food. I

was famished and had several large slices of pizza accompanied by a tankard of beer. I figured, if he was going to be drunk,

why not. When we returned to the office he showed no sign of having had any liquor; I was bloated.

The afternoon was at a slower pace, with the judge writing some notes which he told me he would take home and have one of

the secretaries type. He had me read them to be certain his handwriting was legible. I found several indecipherable words

but most of his writing was clearer than mine. I didn’t understand most of it but that wasn’t important.

We headed home after 4, encountering ever increasing traffic, taking almost an hour to do so.

At dinner that night I asked Judge Summers for his permission to write an article for the local newspaper describing his

background and summarizing the case he would be sitting.

“Go for it, my boy. If you can get it published I’ll be proud of you.”

“I’ll let you read it first to make sure I have all the facts straight.”

At this he laughed.

I later called Professor Adams and asked him to clear it with the editor of the paper. He promised to call me back the next

day.

He was as good as his word. At 8:15 in the morning, as we were finishing breakfast, Professor Adams called. “I spoke to

Clinton Radley, who is the editor for local court news at The Register. He gave the green light, subject to his approval of the

story when he receives it. If he likes it he would like you to do a daily report on the trial. Sounds like you are in.”

“Thank you, Professor; I appreciate your help.”

Before driving the judge to court I brought his notes from the day before to Fran and asked her to type them, priority. “Do you

need them this morning?” she asked.

“No, we’re going to New Haven in a few minutes. There might be more notes today.”

We arrived and got parked a few minutes after 9. Judge Summers got busy right away, reading more material that had been

delivered to the office.

With his permission I began work on the newspaper article. I tried to keep it short but there was much information to try to

squeeze into the article. I was certain the editor would rewrite part of it, so I didn’t concern myself too much about the length. I

wrote about the judge’s history of being a hard-nosed, no nonsense judge and how he had retired six years ago but had been

called back as a temporary replacement for Judge Bennett, who had been stricken with a heart attack the previous Saturday.

I made a brief referral to the trial he would preside over, to begin the following Tuesday.

Judge Summers read what I had written and commented, “Well done, but Radley will put his own spin on it.”

I walked the three blocks to the newspaper office and was directed to Clinton Radley’s office. He made a quick read and

said, “I’ll give this to our rewrite editor; he’ll probably make a few changes and I’ll see that it appears in Thursday’s edition,

with your name on the byline. Next week, beginning Tuesday, I’d like you to write an article each day describing the action in

the trial. You will need to get it to rewrite by 4 o’clock. Can you do that?”

“I can, but it will have to be hand written; I won’t have access to a typewriter.”

“As long as we can read it.”

Each day my job was to be a courier for the judge, running hither and yon to get information or papers he needed.

Thursday morning I stopped at a newsstand to pick up a paper to see if I had made it in print. There I was on the front page

under the caption, PROMINENT JURIST TO PRESIDE AT BUCKLEY TRIAL.” The article followed and was almost exactly as

I had written it.

The judge was pleased. “Your first published work; congratulations.”

I returned to the newsstand at lunch and bought two more copies One, I would send the front page to my brother along with a

note telling him about Vivian. The other I would take to Vivian, this weekend.

That afternoon Judge Summers gave me some good news. “I’m about finished with what I need to do, why don’t you take

tomorrow off and go visit Vivian.”

I almost hugged him, then said, “Thank you, Judge. She’ll be thrilled when I tell her that tonight.”

“And take a copy of that paper with you.”

“I intend to. She’ll be thrilled with that too.”

That evening, when Vivian called, I gave her the good news about having Friday off. “I can catch a flight that will get me there

at noon. Will that be too early?”

“Sweetheart, you could come at 2 in the morning and I would be there to meet you.”

“Oh! Do you want me to arrive at 2? I’ll have to see if there’s a flight arriving at that time.”

“No, noon would be fine. I don’t want you to be half asleep all day.”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“You won’t tell me what your surprise is and I’m not telling you mine.”

“Okay, Smarty pants; be that way. I love you anyway.”

As we hung up I thought how lucky I was that we had found each other again.

* * *

Friday morning, on the way to the airport I remembered to stop and buy some condoms. Be prepared, I thought, I bought a

dozen. When Vivian picked me up at the airport I handed her the newspaper and told her, “This is my surprise.”

She looked blankly at me and then at the newspaper and the caption caught her eye. ”Charlie, how wonderful.”

“There’s more. I’m also going to write a daily report, starting Tuesday, about the trial, from beginning to end.”

“Wow! That’s great. I’m so excited for you.”

“Now, tell me what your surprise is.”

“I was going to show you tomorrow, but if you’re good, I’ll show you today.”

“I’m getting curiouser and curiouser.”

“Is that a word, curiouser?”

“Wasn’t it in ‘Alice in Wonderland’?

“Oh, I think you’re right.”

“Now, take me to a good restaurant so I can buy my beautiful bride-to-be lunch.”

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