12th of Never

father wouldn’t buy her a dress she wanted and she flailed and kicked at Mr. Herman and he tried to restrain her. There was no beating, no call to the police, nothing like that.
    “If he could, he would buy her a million dresses now.
    “Mr. Herman did not report that his wife and daughter were missing on March first because he didn’t know it. He was occupied with Ms. Lagrande at the time of this tragedy, which has unquestionably destroyed his life.
    “That’s it, folks. That is our case. Mr. Herman didn’t kill anyone. This trial is about whether or not you believe Ms. Lagrande beyond a reasonable doubt.”
    John Kinsela thanked the jury and sat down. For a second, Yuki couldn’t quite believe that Kinsela had singled out her star witness, shot a cannonball at her, then took a bow.
    Yuki had hoped he would do exactly that. It was now in Kinsela’s best interest to strip Lynnette Lagrande’s testimony bare, break her, and throw her bones under the bus. He could only do that if she testified.
    Her witness would appear.
    Lynnette Lagrande, a woman with an exotic dancer’s name, was in fact a grade-school teacher, twenty years younger than the defendant, and possessed of a spotless reputation. She’d never gotten so much as a parking ticket in her life.
    Gaines showed Yuki the cartoon he had doodled on his iPad. It was a Yuki character dunking a basketball into a net. Yuki never liked to say that a case was a slam dunk.
    But the battle was shaping up and Yuki liked the look of the field.
    “We’re good,” she whispered to Gaines as the judge called the court into recess. “We’re looking good.”

Chapter 6
    JULIE HAD BEEN wailing since we left the hospital, hardly stopping before revving her engine and howling again. It had been going on for weeks and I was mystified and a little alarmed.
    What was wrong? What was she trying to tell us?
    It was just about 8:00 p.m. when Joe settled me into the big rocker in Julie’s room. I reached up and Joe handed me our screaming little bundle of distress. I tried to nurse her again, but as usual, she refused me.
    What was I doing wrong?
    I said, “Please don’t cry, baby girl. Everything is okay. Actually, everything is perfect.”
    She took in another breath and cried even harder. As much as her first cry felt like a hug around my heart, now her cries felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vise.
    “What is it, darling? Are you hot, cold, wet?”
    She was dry.
    “Joe, she’s hungry. Okay, she might nurse a little bit if we wait her out. But listen, she clearly prefers the bottle.”
    “Be back in a sec,” Joe said.
    I rocked my daughter. Even with her fists waving and her little face as pink as a rose, she was a spectacular, fully formed human being made from love. I was in awe of her perfection. And more than anything, I wanted her to feel good.
    I jounced her in my arms and sang a nonsense song that I made up as I went along. “Ju-lee, you’re breaking my heart. What can I do for my bay-bee?”
    I fished an old Irish lullaby from the vault of long-buried memories, and then hauled out a couple of nursery rhymes. Mice ran up a clock, cradles rocked, but nothing worked.
    Joe appeared, like a genie, with a warm bottle of formula. I tested a drop on the back of my hand, and then I tried the bottle on Julie. And—thank you, God—she began to suck.
    I was elated. Euphoric. Ecstatic. Julie was eating. Joe and I watched our daughter pulling at the bottle with intense attention, and when a few ounces had gone down and she turned away from the bottle, Joe said, “I’ll take her, Blondie. You go to bed.”
    He put Julie over his shoulder and burped her like a pro.
    “I love you, Julie Anne Molinari,” Joe said to our baby.
    “You’ve told her twenty eleven times today. She knows it,” I said, standing up and kissing my husband.
    “She can’t hear it too much. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”
    “I believe that. But I think something is bothering you,” I said.
    “God. I can’t sneak anything past you, Blondie. Even when you’re dog-tired. Even when you shouldn’t notice anything but Julie’s fingers and toes.”
    I felt the first frisson of alarm.
    “Is something going on? Tell me now.”
    Joe sighed. “How can I put this delicately? I got fired.”
    “
What?
Come on. Don’t kid with me about this.”
    I was searching his eyes, looking for the joke.
    “Really,” Joe said. He looked embarrassed. Honest to God. I’d