Chapter 10: Before the Hearing
Ruth filed for a restraining order the next morning.
The judge granted a temporary one by end of day.
Carla was prohibited from coming within three hundred feet of our home, our school, or either of us personally.
I found out when Ruth texted me a copy of the order at 4:47 in the afternoon.
Noah read it over my shoulder.
He didn't say anything.
He just went back upstairs to his sewing room and I heard the machine start up again a few minutes later.
That was how he processed things.
He made something.
The three weeks before the hearing moved strangely — some days crawling, some days gone before I'd registered them.
Ruth kept us informed at every step.
Carla's attorney had filed the motion about the alleged loan from our mother.
Ruth had responded with a detailed counter-filing that included a sworn statement from our mother's former accountant, a woman named Patricia Hale, who had managed Mom's finances for six years before she passed.
Patricia Hale stated, in writing, that she had no record of any loan from Carla Voss or Carla Hendricks to our mother.
She stated that our mother's personal accounts showed no such deposit at any point during her management of them.
She stated that our mother had been meticulous about her finances and had never mentioned any outstanding personal debt.
Ruth read me the key paragraph over the phone.
"She also included a personal note at the end," Ruth said.
"Not legally binding, but she asked that it be included.
She wrote: 'I knew Ellen for many years.
She was one of the most careful and honest people I have ever worked with.
The suggestion that she borrowed money and failed to repay it is inconsistent with everything I knew of her character, and I would say so under oath without hesitation.'"
I had to set the phone down for a moment.
When I picked it back up, Ruth was still there.
"You okay?" she said.
"Yeah," I said.
"I just — I didn't know Patricia Hale remembered her like that."
"People who were loved tend to leave that behind them," Ruth said quietly.
The day before the hearing, Noah finished the jacket.
He brought it downstairs folded over his arm and handed it to me without ceremony.
"Can you give it to her tomorrow?" he said.
I unfolded it carefully.
Dark navy wool, with small careful stitching along the lapels.
A single interior pocket.
A lining in a deep blue that matched, almost exactly, the darkest panel of my prom dress.
"Noah," I said.
"She drove three hours," he said.
"And she's been doing all of this for free." He shrugged, which meant he was trying not to show how much he meant it.
"It's just a jacket."
I looked at him.
"It's not just a jacket," I said.
He went back upstairs.
The hearing was at nine in the morning.
Ruth met us outside the courthouse at eight-thirty.
She was wearing a gray coat and carrying a leather folder and she looked like someone who had done this many times and was not afraid of it.
I gave her the jacket.
She unfolded it.
Looked at it for a long moment.
"Noah made it," I said.
Ruth looked up at him.
He was standing slightly behind me with his hands in his pockets, looking at the sidewalk.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded without looking up.
"I want you both to know," Ruth said, "that whatever happens today, the financial fraud case is solid.
The restitution will happen.
The license consequences will happen." She paused.
"The other matter — your father's medical records — that investigation is separate and ongoing.
It will not be resolved today.
I want you prepared for that."
"I know," I said.
"It may take months," she said.
"It may lead to a clear answer.
It may not."
"I know," I said again.
She looked at me carefully.
"You're ready."
It wasn't a question.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
We walked up the courthouse steps together.
