Legal Murder

chapter:18

Virginia flipped the fourth golden pancake onto a China plate and set it in front of her tired husband. He gave her a grateful smile and then proceeded to drench the stack in maple syrup. Reagan's eyes stayed fixed on the stained, crumpled page that he'd found with the rest of his morning mail. There was no name on it, but he was more than certain of the sender.

"What is that?"

Reagan shot his head up to meet Virginia's curious gaze. "A note."

She sat across from him at the table and took a sip of her black coffee. "What does it say?"

"Here," He figured it would be easier for Virginia to read it herself. "I think it's from Dixie. But it seems odd that she would just stick it in our mailbox at who knows what hour. It looks like the product of an old typewriter."

Virginia began to scan over the letter, licking the end of the syrup-sticky spatula as she read.

"Dixie could have just emailed it to me." He went on, stroking his unshaven double chin, "Well, regardless, I think it's brilliant. I'd never really thought of everything quite like the way she put it."

She read it again, thinking. 

"Maybe this is exactly what America needs. America loves dividing itself into races, religions, genders, and beliefs. Dixie's proposition is to end all the division, and put the humans who don't get a say at the very forefront of the argument." Reagan took his paper napkin from beneath the plate of untouched pancakes and took a pen from his shirt pocket. He scribbled portions of Dixie's letter across the napkin, and stared at it with a million thoughts spinning in his head.

"This is it, Reagan," Virginia spoke up, "I think this is the movement we need to change America."

"But it's just a bunch of fragmented ideas..." Reagan murmured somewhat hesitantly.

Virginia looked him square in the eye, the smell of scorched pancakes rising in the air behind her. "Ideas are what makes things happen, and right now, this is all we've got."

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"Christmas Eve is in four days. I want to get him something special." Ginger said, pressing her palms against the glass of See's candy. The vast array of chocolates dressed in golden tinsel and ornament print wrapping paper stared tauntingly up at the sisters.

Lauren tugged Ginger's hand and pulled her away from the display. "What did you have in mind?"

"Richard collects snow globes."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the concept, Lauren pointed to the in-mall Hallmark shop. "I bet they have snow globes in there." She took off her scarf as they walked towards the outlet, and pushed it into the depths of her Macy's bag. The warmth of City Lights Mall consumed her and she decided to take her snow cap off as well.

Before they made it to the doors of Hallmark, Ginger spotted something that made her stop in her tracks.

Lauren's line of vision followed Ginger's outstretched index finger to a pink and blue sign dangling over a store across the mall. In the display window sat rows of baby booties and cribs with velvet-soft, duck-print blankets. Without a verbal exchange between the sisters, they abandoned the snow globe for Richard and started for the infant boutique.

"Aw, look how cute this is." Ginger gushed the second she stepped foot into the baby powder-smelling store. Everything in blue was stroked, inspected, and added to Ginger's wish list. Her heart was full. It was as though the situation was meant to be. Which it was. "I think I have the feeling back." She commented, almost too quietly to hear.

Lauren glanced over whilst holding up a giraffe-print bib, "What feeling?"

"I think it's happiness." She smiled, patting her abdomen lightly. Ginger's mind left the store and wandered into the house Richard and her were planning to buy. She saw a beautiful blue wall, a wide, bright window, and toys all stacked into a bin. There was a crib, a rocking chair, and a pile of diapers. And there was her little boy, curled up in a mountain of sheets, smiling so sweetly it melted her heart. She realized then, as she stared at herself reflected in her own son, that it was all worth it. No matter what already happened, and no matter what would happen, the burdens and sacrifices she'd make for the new, tiny part of herself would all be worth it. 

Because in the end, her pregnancy was about protecting the beginning of her son's life.

"Ginger?" Lauren called, snapping her from her thoughts.

Ginger glanced away from the airplane-print strollers to see what her sister was holding up. She drew closer and took the little item into her cupped hands. It was a snow globe. There was a miniature Christmas tree inside it, and around the trunk, where presents usually sat, were figurines of a father, a mother, and tiny baby wrapped in red cloth.

"The best gift of all." Ginger said, staring at the little family in the globe.

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He stepped around one of the sound technicians and adjusted his headset. The shoot was scheduled for two 'o clock and it was two ten. The crew was scrambling to set up cameras and lighting while Reagan paced back and forth in front of the director's trailer. He was at a total loss. Never before had he drawn such a blank when it came to filming one of his famous, spontaneous movies.

But there he was. Pacing. Hoping for a miracle to fall from the sky and land at his feet.

And then it kind of did.

Tires squealed behind him, and the busy crew took a millisecond to observe the driver stepping out of her car. She was an older woman, much older than Mr. Peters. Her hair was a neglected mix of curly grey and red, and her face was a wrinkled mess of freckles and splotches. The wideness of her brown eyes were the woman's only sign of youth.

"Can I help you?" Reagan asked when the newcomer clomped determinedly toward him in her low, black pumps.

Her expression could only be described as the exclamation point at the end of a brilliant sentence. "I'm Amelia Waltz. I work at the local library." She said in an out-of-breath sort of way, "My friend forwarded me the email you sent to her. The one about abortion?" She didn't wait for Reagan's confirmation, "I thought about the question a lot, and I've decided something."

"Oh?" Reagan hummed, watching Mrs. Waltz's eager eyes. 

"I'm too old to be ignorant. It's just plain stupid. I've been avoiding confrontation my whole life, and avoiding problems never solves anything. So I've decided, after answering the question you sent, that I would do anything, and I mean anything to save just one of those innocent babies." Her sun-scarred hands were clasped together in an act of desperation.

"You already have," Reagan began slowly, a smile taking shape on his face, "you've just given me an idea that will save not one baby, but hundreds." With that, he shook her fragile hands, and thanked her continuously. When Mrs. Waltz left, he ordered his crew to pack up their equipment.

"Where are we bringing this stuff to, sir?" A curious new photographer inquired.

Reagan gave him a meaningful smile. "Ever been outside the state?"

"No, sir."

"Well, you're about to."