Unspoken Page 7
The judge looked away, his mouth twisting as Rob continued to make my case.
I glanced at Ken Matthews, who was nonchalantly studying the white tips of his neatly trimmed nails, then my thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Why was the judge making the zoo’s case? Why didn’t Matthews look even a little bit tense?
In one startling instant I realized what Rob must have known the moment the judge entered the room—Matthews and Oliphant were pals. Oh, maybe they weren’t golf buddies or brother Elks, but they both relied on the public’s goodwill; both men were paid by tax dollars. They wanted to make the zoo’s lawsuit go away . . . and they could get their wish if they’d only let me keep Sema.
Rob talked; the judge countered. Kremkau said something; Rob’s neck flushed above his collar.
Why, this meeting had probably been Matthews’s idea . . . or maybe Oliphant’s. In either case, they both stood to win if we settled before the lawsuit went to trial.
The judge pressed his hands to his desk. “Ms. Granger,” he turned the heat of his gaze on me, “you have in your possession an animal owned by the Thousand Oaks Zoo, correct?”
Somehow I found my voice. “I’ve had her for eight years, Your Honor. I took custody of her with the full blessing of Alden Johnston, the former zoo director.”
He lifted his hand, cutting me off. “A simple yes or no will do, thank you. Now”—he turned to Matthews—“Mr. Matthews, the zoo would like that gorilla returned, correct?”
“Absolutely.” Kremkau, the lawyer, spoke for Matthews. “The animal is now mature. It needs to be habituated so the zoo can continue its highly successful primate breeding program.”
Oliphant cast the lawyer a warning look. “As I said, a simple yes or no will do.”
He turned to Rob. “Mr. Granger, on what grounds does your client believe she has a right to keep this animal?”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Your Honor,” Rob said. “Ms. Granger has spent years teaching and caring for this gorilla. She has conducted unique research in the field of interspecies communication and hopes to soon publish her results. And while this gorilla is no pet, she has bonded to Ms. Granger. The animal speaks; she reads; she communicates in two languages. To interrupt Ms. Granger’s work now would be a travesty of justice and science.”
The judge swiveled toward the opposition. “In theory, Mr. Kremkau, does your client have any objection to Ms. Granger continuing her work with this animal?”
“How can the gorilla be bred,” Kremkau sputtered, “if she is not part of the gorilla community? My client contends that gorillas are social animals and cannot happily exist apart from a gorilla group.”
“My client is this animal’s family,” Rob argued. “Sema depends on Ms. Granger for food, companionship, and affection. I have seen them together, Your Honor, and their relationship is . . . well, it’s extraordinary.”
Brad Fielding leaned across the chasm between the two groups of chairs. “Perhaps that dependence is not such a good thing.” He shifted his attention to me. “I can’t help but wonder if Sema knows she’s a gorilla.”
My adrenaline level spiked. “That’s preposterous.”
“Not all gorilla behaviors are instinctive,” Fielding continued, speaking now to the judge. “Female gorillas who do not watch other mothers do not learn how to care for their infants. Gorillas learn how to eat, mate, and groom each other by watching others in their group. Sema has learned amazing things about how to be human—what she’s lacked is the opportunity to learn how to be a gorilla.”
The judge leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, then focused on me. “Do you agree, Ms. Granger, that habituation would benefit the gorilla under discussion?”
“I definitely do not. Tearing Sema from the only home she’s ever known would be the most traumatic event of her life.”
Oliphant shook his head in admonishment. “You didn’t answer my question. Would she benefit from exposure to other gorillas?”
I found myself staring at Fielding as my brain floundered for an answer that wouldn’t dash my dreams. The answer to Oliphant’s question was obvious to anyone who had studied primates—gorillas are extremely social creatures and desperately need the company of their own kind—but Sema seemed to be an exception. She spent nearly every minute of her waking hours with me, so she had never lacked for company or conversation.
I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Sema has never given me any reason to think she wants to live in the zoo. I am her companion. We are together all day, every day.”
The judge propped his chin in his hand and smiled. “How is that possible? Even the most devoted caretaker needs some time for herself.”
“Gorillas sleep between ten to fourteen hours at night,” I answered, “and they rest every afternoon after feeding. I’ve learned to adjust my schedule so I’m with Sema when she’s awake. I do other things during her naptime.”
“Surely,” Oliphant said, “you would appreciate having someone to share the burden so you can have more time to call your own.”
I lifted my chin. “When I need an extra pair of hands, my vet sends an animal technician who works by the hour.”
“Still, the daily workload must be incredible.”
“Your Honor,” Rob interrupted, “I fail to see the relevance of all this. My client has given this animal exemplary attention for eight years. Quality of care is not at issue.”
The judge lifted a brow. “I didn’t mean to imply Ms. Granger is not an adequate caretaker—as a mediator, I’m hoping to impress the advantages of an alternate solution upon your client.”
In that moment, I knew we would lose. The Honorable Geoffrey Oliphant favored Thousand Oaks, so if we went to trial, we’d have one strike against us from the beginning.
My eyes flicked at the zoo director, who was studying his hands and smiling to himself. “Let’s cut to the chase,” I told the judge, catching sight of my brother’s alarmed expression from the corner of my eye. “And let’s speak in plain English, please.”
Oliphant actually smiled. “Why don’t we look at the zoo’s proposal.”
I sat in stunned silence as briefcases opened on both sides of the room. Kremkau passed papers to Matthews and Fielding; Rob handed a single printed page to me.
I glanced at the heading—Presettlement Proposal, January 10, 2005. Lines for signatures appeared at the bottom, while a list of stipulations filled the center of the page.
“What you see before you”—Oliphant picked up his copy of the proposal—“is the zoo’s suggested solution to this quandary. We are open to your thoughts, of course, but I think I’m safe in saying that none of us wants a protracted case. Extensive publicity would not be good for the zoo or Ms. Granger. The Thousand Oaks proposal is, I believe, quite generous.”
I looked at my brother, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Rob”—my voice had gone taut as rage seared my cheeks—“we need to talk. Now.”
Oliphant nodded to Rob. “Take a minute.”
Moving on legs that felt wooden, I stood and moved out into the anteroom, then whirled to face my brother. “You knew about this proposal?”
Rob carefully closed the door behind him, then spoke in a lowered voice. “Of course, Glee, I told you I’d been talking to Kremkau.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me ?”
“Come on, Glee, I’ve done nothing but talk to you.”
“Not about this, you didn’t. You sold me out. You brought me here and hoped I’d be too intimidated to say anything.”
Behind me, someone coughed. “Excuse me. I’ll let you have some privacy.” I turned in time to see the law clerk gather his papers and duck into the hall.
Rob waited until the door closed, then rounded on me. “I didn’t think you’d be intimidated—and I knew you’d fight for the issues that are really important to you.” The line of his mouth clamped tight and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Good grief, Glee, can’t you understand that you can’t win as long as you insist on keeping property that isn’t yours? You won’t try to raise the money to buy Sema; you won’t let me lend you the funds. All right, fine, but that means you’re going to have to share your gorilla. Matthews wanted to cut you out of the picture entirely, but I convinced him he needs you to care for Sema. According to the terms of the proposal, you’ll be able to continue your work indefinitely. You’ll even draw a salary and full benefits. You’ll just have to conduct your work at the zoo.”
Something in me began to tremble. “What—what if we reject this proposal and go to trial?”
“You could lose Sema entirely. If the trial garners a lot of negative publicity, you could earn a reputation among your colleagues as a troublemaker . . . how would you feel if you could never work with gorillas again?”
Unable to bear the hot light of his eyes, I turned to stare at a painting— a mediocre Florida landscape, complete with alligators, egrets, and pink flamingos. Hotel art at its finest.
“You should have told me,” I whispered.
“You would only have argued.”
I shrugged and looked over my shoulder. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of all those people in there.”
“Glee.” His cheek curved as he smiled. “On at least two occasions I have driven around town with a gregarious gorilla in my passenger seat. How could anything you do possibly embarrass me?”
Despite my intention to maintain self-control, my chin wobbled and my eyes filled with tears. I dashed the wetness away, then accepted the handkerchief Rob pulled from his poc
ket.
“Ready to go back in?”
I sniffed and patted my lower lashes dry, then nodded. “Let’s go.”
6
We walked into a silence so thick I could hear the swish of my skirt with each step.
“Thank you,” Rob sank into his chair. “We’re ready to proceed.”
Oliphant picked up his copy of the proposal. “As you can see,” the judge explained, “Ms. Granger will be required to return the gorilla called Sema to the zoo within seven days—provided, of course, the animal is healthy and free of communicable disease. Once the gorilla arrives at the zoo, it will be kept in a separate holding facility until it can be gradually and carefully habituated to the existing gorilla population. At that point the animal will join the other gorillas’ daily routine, with the following exceptions: Ms. Granger will be allowed to continue her work with the gorilla for one two-hour session each day. Ms. Granger will also be reinstated as an employee of Thousand Oaks Zoo, where she will work under Mr. Fielding, gorilla curator. Ms. Granger will be allowed input concerning Sema’s care, conditioning, and breeding. In addition, she will conduct daily performances for the public so others may learn about the animal’s unique abilities.”
“Absolutely not!” I glared at Fielding, my breath burning in my throat. “Sema is not a circus act!”
“No,” Matthews responded, speaking in the tone he might have used with a three-year-old, “she is a zoo animal. We put animals in zoos so people can observe them. If this animal is as unique as you say, we have every right—even the responsibility—to let the public see her.”
Ignoring his boss, Fielding leaned toward me. “I know you care desperately about saving the world’s remaining gorillas, Glee. As long as people think of the g’s as big, hairy apes, there’s no connection, no real concern. But if they see Sema and realize how human she is, they’ll change their opinions. Sema could be a huge voice for gorilla conservation. You could end every demonstration with a plea for donations to the groups who are trying to enforce the ban on poaching and the bush-meat trade.”
I looked away, disgusted by the mention of money. I’d never doubted Fielding’s honest concern for gorillas—in this area, at least, his stubbornness was a virtue. But what I’d read of Matthews had convinced me he was far more concerned with enlarging his role as head of the local animal kingdom than sending money to the impoverished Africans who patrolled the gorilla preserves.
Rob dropped his copy of the proposal onto his briefcase. “So far I fail to see any good reason why my client should acquiesce to all these stipulations.”
“I’ll tell you why.” Kremkau’s voice filled with quiet menace. “Because we are ready to sue on the grounds of wrongful possession. We’ll have no problem proving the animal belongs to Thousand Oaks, and we’ll have no problem demonstrating that in the past your client has willfully and callously disobeyed the instructions of her superiors at the zoo. From the beginning, she has placed her desire to conduct research before the zoo’s interests, and she has insisted on fabricating humanlike responses from a creature that is and always will be only an animal.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Matthews cut me off. “The media would have a field day with this.” His eyes gleamed above an expression that would not qualify as a smile in any creature’s expressive lexicon. “I think our best interests lie in compromise. Ms. Granger— you may continue your work with Sema. But she will live at the zoo, where she was born and where she belongs.”
I brought my hand to my lips and resisted the urge to look at Rob. I wanted to dig in and fight, but I knew I’d lose. I could only conceive of one sure way to win—if I held a press conference and demonstrated Sema’s unique abilities, I could make a public case for keeping her in her present situation. But if I did that, I’d be playing into Matthews’s hands. I’d be doing what he wanted to do, and I would not put my girl on display like a circus freak.
As an individual, Sema deserved better.
Aware that every man in the room was waiting for my response, I squeezed my brother’s arm. “I won’t put her on display,” I looked directly at Matthews, “and I want a month to help her adjust to the idea of moving. I’ll need to teach her about the other animals and help her understand what’s going to happen.”
Matthews nodded. “You can have the month. But since public education is one of our primary purposes, you will conduct public demonstrations. We can postpone these, however, until the animal has adjusted to her new surroundings.”
“Give her a year,” I countered. “And I’ll need your promise she won’t have to perform if she’s sick, upset, pregnant, or nursing an infant.”
Matthews’s watery blue eyes gleamed above his glasses. “We’ll consider it. But after the agreed-upon interval, she’ll perform every afternoon in the gorilla pavilion.”
I lifted my hand. “Every Saturday afternoon—and only if I’m available to interpret for her. Though I realize I’ll be working for Fielding, I want to remain in charge of Sema’s welfare.”
Fielding shifted as if he would object, but Matthews spoke first. “Agreed. If you two have a disagreement about Sema, you may have the final word. In all other circumstances, you will defer to Mr. Fielding.”
Rob looked at me, apology in his eyes.
“The proposal contains other provisions.” Kremkau glanced at the paper in his hand. “Salary stipulations, a guarantee of job security, benefits— all are spelled out, and all, I believe, are quite generous.”
Rob nodded. “We might want to tweak an item or two, but everything looks good.”
“Well.” The judge tapped a rhythm on the edge of his desk. “I do believe we have reached an agreement. Mr. Kremkau, why don’t you write up a draft of the revised agreement and send it to Mr. Granger’s office. I’d like to have a signed copy of the settlement in my office by next Friday.”
Just like that, the battle was over. The judge stood and moved to shake Matthews’s hand; Rob took my arm and led me toward the door.
“I am sorry,” he murmured as he reached for the knob. “You’re right, I should have given you the details—”
“Glee?”
I turned at the sound of Fielding’s voice. He stood behind me, looking strangely out of place in his khaki uniform. The ghost of a smile touched his mouth with ruefulness. “Look, I hope there are no hard feelings. I’m looking forward to having you on our team.”
He had to be lying. What employer would want a reluctant woman, especially one with whom he shared an unpleasant past, on his staff? He didn’t want me in his life any more than I wanted him, but within days a legally binding document would decree that we had to work together.
For a moment I couldn’t speak, then I winced. “I wish I could say I was looking forward to joining you, but I can’t. This has been the worst day of my life . . . and you’ve been a huge part of it.”
Grateful for the stalwart support of my brother, I took his arm and left Brad Fielding with his cohorts.
7
Quiet cloaked the trailer when I returned, the silence broken only by the gentle sound of Sema’s deep breathing. Ethan sat on a stool by the table, a paperback novel in his hand. “She’s been great,” he whispered when I came in. “We played; we read a couple of books; then she ate lunch. She’s been sleeping about an hour.”
He grinned as I searched for my wallet in the depths of my shoulder bag. “She was signing away while I was reading to her. I picked up a little of what she was saying, but I think she got impatient. She kept pointing to me, then she’d hold her nose and do this—”
I looked up to see Ethan close his fist, then brush his thumb twice against his upper teeth.
Even through the pain of bitter disappointment, Sema could make me smile. “She was calling you a stinky nut .”
Ethan grunted. “That rascal. I thought she was insulting me.”
“Relax. She likes you. You should hear what she’s called me over the years.”
I pressed a wad of bills in Ethan’s palm, then opened the door. “Thanks. You were a lifesaver.”
“Anytime.”
As his footsteps echoed over the wooden stairs, I closed the door and realized even this dark cloud had a silver lining. If Sema lived at the zoo, I’d never again have to pay a gorilla-sitter.