The Best Is Yet to Be
By Ayesha Haqqiqa
“What is it with McCoy?” Debbie Pennyman asked her fellow clerk, Mary Jay ,as they rode the ancient elevator up to the tenth floor of Hogan Place. “Lately he’s been a real bear. No smiles, not even a thank-you for the extra typing I did for him for the Amberger case.”
Mary shrugged. “Maybe it’s Arthur Branch. He’s been riding everyone really hard lately. How many DP cases does he have on the docket now? Six? Ten?”
Debbie shook her head. “Four, and Jack is involved with only one of them. But Jack’s never been one to be concerned about asking for Murder One. It has to be something else.”
“Well, he’s been working long hours, even for Jack,” Mary observed. “One night last week I came back into the building about 11:30 because I’d forgotten a Christmas present I’d picked up for my son, Tony. Anyway, the guard let me in, and I nearly freaked when I bumped into Jack in the elevator. He mumbled something about going for coffee. He was in shirtsleeves, so I know he wasn’t going out.”
Debbie sighed. “I do enjoy seeing that man in shirtsleeves,” she said wistfully. “But he’s been seeing that history professor—Monica, isn’t that her name?—for several years now.”
“Lucky lady,” Mary observed. “I wonder if—“
The elevator doors opened and Jack McCoy got in. The two clerks smiled, but McCoy didn’t seem to notice. His head was bowed. In fact, his whole body stooped.
“A bad day in court?” Debbie ventured sympathetically.
“What?” Jack looked up, and suddenly realized he wasn’t alone on the elevator car.
“The Amberger case,” Debbie said. “Did the judge rule in favor of the defense motion to suppress the murder weapon?”
“No.” Jack looked at her darkly. “Everything is just fine, thank you.”
Debbie shot her coworker a look, and the trio was silent until the doors opened on the tenth floor. Jack strode down the hall, leaving the two women in his wake.
“You’d think he was running from something,” Debbie said.
“Or someone,” Mary replied.
Jack opened his office door and slammed his briefcase on his table, and then went to his desk, where he sat down and buried his face in his hands. And that was how Arthur Branch found him some five minutes later.
“The motion hearing go all right?” he asked gruffly.
“Yeah.” Jack rubbed his forehead and looked up at the DA. “Serena had a brain wave about linking the murder weapon to the stolen money, and went to the 2-7 to check it out with the detectives there.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Serena,” Branch said. “But I am a bit concerned about you. How many days has this headache of yours lasted?”
“A couple,” Jack mumbled. “That’s the way my migranes work.”
“Well, your migranes may be workin’, but your mind isn’t,” Branch said. “I heard from Judge Rivera about your behavior at the hearing today. You don’t have to shout at the judge and defense counsel this early in the game. Wait for the trial.”
“Yeah, well Barry Peck had it coming to him, the imbecile,” Jack muttered darkly.
Branch shook his head. “You know that and I know that,” he said. “And when it comes down to it, Joe Rivera knows it, too. No reason to get hostile. It just muddies up the waters.” He looked down at Jack thoughtfully. “And I’m thinkin’ that maybe you need to head upstream for a few days. Take the rest of the week off.”
“But Serena—“
“If Serena connects the money and the murder weapon, so much the better,” Branch said. “It can’t help but strengthen our case. I’ll ride herd on her, if needed. But the trial doesn’t start for two weeks, and I want you in top form for it. So now is the time to take a little vacation. I’ve checked your records—you’ve got nearly three weeks coming to you. Be glad I’m only making you take three days.” He looked at Jack meaningly, and left.
Jack muttered under his breath. Branch was right. If he had to take some vacation, now was the time. Maybe a few days at home would make the headache go away. And maybe he could get over his anger—
“No luck,” Serena said, coming into the office. “The ME already checked the cash for a DNA match from the knife. Too contaminated.”
Jack shrugged. “It was a long shot. I’m just glad you took it,” he said quietly.
Serena looked at him, concerned. “The headache again?”
Jack nodded. “In the form of Arthur Branch. I’m out of here until next Monday.” He looked up at her and smiled wanly.
“Well, get some rest,” Serena said. “You seem to be tired lately.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. He got up and went to his clothes rack, where he hung up his suit jacket. Before he had it off, Serena was gone.
Hadn’t always been that way, he thought to himself as he undid his tie and put it in the pocket. Claire had enjoyed watching him dress—and undress. But Claire was dead, and Monica—
He shook his head as he put on his jeans. Every other affair had simply cooled, and they had drifted apart. This was the first time he’d been rejected, thrown over for another man—a younger man.
What had Monica said? “Jack, you just don’t have the staying power you used to. I need an twenty-eight-year-old stud, not someone pushing 60!” While Jack stood in her living room in shock, the doorbell had rung. Monica opened the door, and in walked a graduate associate. “Jason, this is Jack,” Monica had said.
Jason, tall, muscular, and bronzed, held out a hand. “Glad to meet you, sir,” he said. “Are you Monica’s older brother she’s told me so much about?”
He wouldn’t forget that remark, or the smirk on Monica’s face as he muttered a reply and left.
“And I’m 57, not 60,” he reminded himself as he put on his jacket and left the office. At least the motorcycle didn’t care what his age was. It roared as he pushed down on the throttle and exited the garage. He headed for the Brooklyn Bridge and Long Island.
It was late when he returned home, tired and cold. The trip up to the eastern most part of Long Island hadn’t exhilerated him like it usually did. He shivered a bit as he put his helmet on the couch. When was the last time he’d made that trip? With Claire. No wonder doing it now didn’t help.
He was just about to take a warm shower when the phone rang.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Jack, it’s Nora.” The former DA had gone back to academia, and Jack hadn’t seen or heard from her in months. “How are things going?”
“What, don’t tell me you’re already missing the thrill of trials, press conferences, and political headaches,” Jack said.
Nora laughed. “No, that I’m glad I left. But I do miss some of the people from Hogan Place.” She paused, and Jack smiled, wondering if she were blushing. But then she continued. “Jack, I need your help. I’ve started writing up my experiences as the Manhattan DA. I’m hoping to use it in my ethics class. But I’d like someone from Hogan Place to review it, to make sure that I am giving things the right slant.”
Jack’s smile faded. “You need an editor?” he asked a bit gruffly. “Why not use one of your graduate assistants?”
“Jack, you didn’t listen,” Nora replied ernestly. “I need someone from Hogan Place, someone who has been there a long time, to let me know if I’ve given an accurate description of the tone of the DA’s office.”
“So you call on me, the EADA workhorse, long in the tooth but faithful and true—“ Jack said sarcastically.
“Jack!” Nora cried. “You’re twisting my words all around! Look, I need you for YOU. My right-hand man, the executive whose opinion mattered the most to me. You are the only one I would entrust to look at this manuscript, which is very important!”
“Oh.” Jack’s voice became gentle. “Look, Nora, it’s been a rough few weeks for me. I apologize. But listen—I’ve got a few days off, so I can come over to your place and look at the manuscript tomorrow. Would that be ok?”
“If you’re finally taking some of your vacation time, I have a better idea,” Nora replied. “I’ve got a cabin in the Catskills, and I can have assistants fill in for me the rest of the week. Why not come up with me and check out the manuscript, and just relax?”
Jack considered. “That may be just what I need,” he replied.
The next day, he wondered if that was what he needed as he downed his third Scotch of the evening and looked out on the mountains, grey now with the leafless trees. He had met Nora at Grand Central that afternoon. She looked flushed and excited. They had talked about their lives in general on the way upstate.
“…and when I was offered a tenured post at NYU, with a raise in salary, I couldn’t say no,” Nora said, smiling at him. “I was surprised how much I’d missed the stimulation of teaching two hundred law students.”
Jack looked at her and smiled. “While I’ve been prosecuting about two hundred perps. Or at least it seems like that many. Is there anything about the DA’s office you miss?”
“Yes,” Nora said. “Seeing how what I teach is actually used in the real world. But more than that – well, I miss some of the people.” Shyly, she patted his hand, and he smiled.
They had reached Poughkeepsie, where they disembarked and rented a car to take them to the cabin. Jack had smiled when she insisted on driving, and leaned back and closed his eyes as she spoke of the cabin in glowing terms.
“It is one leased by a group of us at the University,” she explained. “We have use of it on alternating weekends, and next weekend is my turn. No one comes up here during the week, so we’ll have it all to ourselves. When we get there, I’ll show you to your room, and then we can meet down by the fireplace and discuss my manuscript.”
Jack grunted and turned and looked at her. By actions as much as words, Nora had given him the distinct impression this time alone would be time together. After all, they were no longer co-workers; no ethical dillemas to overcome. But now-- Jack remained silent for the rest of the trip.
“Your room is at the end of the hall, opposite mine,” Nora said when they got inside the cabin and sat down their suitcases on the slate floor near the huge fireplace. “The bathroom is right next to your room, so if you want to freshen up—“
Jack, who had noticed the liquor cabinet, went over and poured himself a stiff drink. “You go ahead,” he muttered. “I’ll do my freshening up here.”
Nora looked at him, concerned, and then sighed and headed down the hall. Only after he heard her door shut did Jack go to his own room.
It was all right, as rooms go. A double bed with a red Hudson’s Bay blanket for a cover. A large overstuffed chair facing the window. Jack sat his suitcase on the chair and opened it, placing the contents in the knotty pine dresser. That done, he picked up his drink and drained it. His headache, which seemed to have gone away during the train trip, was coming back. He got out his medication and looked at it. No, he couldn’t take it now, not after that Scotch. He’d have to suffer through it.
He walked slowly back to the living room, where he found Nora bustling about, gathering wood for a fire.
“Let me do that,” he said.
“Oh Jack, I can—“
“Dammit, it’s one thing I can do! Let me do it!”
Nora looked at him, shocked. “All right,” she said quietly, handing the kindling to him.
Jack didn’t look at her. He pushed aside the large logs and made a small teepee with the kindling. “This is how you start a fire,” he said. “Start small and go big.” He saw a box of fireplace matches and selected one. Striking it on the stone of the hearth, he laid the tiny flame in the middle of the kindling and started blowing on it. Slowly, the twigs caught and burned. Jack added bigger and bigger pieces of wood, until he had a blazing fire. He turned to Nora in triumph, but she wasn’t there. Growling, he went to the liquor cabinet for a refill.
Nora came back in the room a few moments later. “All right if I sit down?” she asked quietly.
“It’s your cabin,” Jack said, staring into the fire.
“But you are my guest,” Nora paused. “I know you’re tired, Jack, so let’s just sit by the fire. No manuscript tonight.”
“Whatever you say.” Jack watched as Nora sat down on the rustic couch in front of the fireplace.
“There’s plenty of room here for you,” she said, looking over at him. “If you don’t mind my company.”
Jack muttered something and finished his drink. He refilled it and then walked a bit unsteadily to the couch, where he sat down several inches away from Nora.
She looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong, Jack?” she asked. “Have I done anything to offend you?”
Jack looked at her. “Done anything?” he said. “Oh no, just the old come-on all the way up here, and then wham! Separate bedrooms.”
“Oh, Jack!” Nora blushed.
Jack took another sip of Scotch and smiled at her. “Oh, I know. It’s Judge Lewin, still condemning me for my affairs. Well, Judge, you are no longer my boss and I would swear you had something more than a manuscript on your mind when you patted my leg on the train.”
“It was your hand,” Nora objected.
“I know what was intended,” Jack said sagely as he took another sip of Scotch.
“I think I’d better fix us something to eat,” Nora said abruptly, getting up and going towards the kitchen. Jack stayed on the couch. Then he got up and stared out the window as he finished the Scotch. At least the headache was easing off. And he’d better ease off the booze, or there wouldn’t be enough to last the weekend. And from the looks of things, liquor was the only thing that was going to make the weekend bearable.
Nora came out from the kitchen, bearing two plates. “It’s just hamburger, and it’s microwaved, but it is food and it was fast. Tomorrow we’ll cook over the fire.” She looked at Jack, over by the window, and then placed the plates on the small table at the far end of the room. Jack went over and they ate their meal in silence. When they were done, Nora took the plates to the kitchen, where she washed them. When she came out, drying her hands on a towel, she said, “It’s all right to turn in early if you’d like.”
Jack smiled at her grimly. “Is that an invitation or an order? What’s the matter, you think I don’t have staying power? That I’m too old for you?”
“What?” Nora looked at him, astounded.
“You know, your colleague Nora Lewin would be amazed to know how you dumped me, Monica,” Jack said, getting up out of his chair. He had to hold onto the back to steady himself. “She thinks I’m a real ladies’ man. A stud. Wouldn’t she be surprised to know how long I last in bed? No all nighters for this stud, not anymore. Washed up. Not any good. Not to you—not to her--not to anybody.” Jack hung his head. Nora stood stock still as he slowly turned and looked at her through half-closed eyes. “You keep your 28-year old assistant for all I care,” he said. “But don’t tell him I’m your brother. Your older brother. That implies a closeness we never had. Never could have.” He grinned in drunken triumph. “There, I told her off,” he said in a self-satisfied tone.
Nora wasn’t sure what to do. Finally, she went over and took hold of Jack’s arm. “I think it’s time you went to bed,” she said softly.
“But without you,” Jack said sadly. “Without anybody. I’ll die that way, you know. Alone.” A tear trickled down his cheek.
Nora guided him back to his bed, where she folded back the covers and helped him off with his shoes. Soon Jack was snoring softly, and Nora retired to her own room.
“I hope you don’t remember what you say on your drunks,” she whispered to herself as she looked in on Jack one more time before turning out the lights.
The morning was cloudy and cold. Jack awoke with a bad hangover, and was thankful for the gloom. He looked down at his rumpled clothes, and realized he’d really tied one on the night before. What had he said? Nothing offensive, he hoped. He made his way to the bathroom, where he took a shower. Then he went back to his room and changed clothes. He hoped it was a quiet day. He’d be on his best behavior, and maybe the sick feeling would go away by noon. It usually did if he didn’t get into any arguments.
Nora was reading on the couch in the living room. She looked up at Jack. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve kept the home fire burning,” she said, pointing to the fire.
“Yeah. That’s good,” Jack said. He thought he’d built the fire the night before, and now Nora had confirmed it.
“I was waiting on breakfast until I knew what you wanted,” she continued. “I’ve got tomato juice, eggs—“
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Jack said, clearing his throat. “That and a lot of coffee.”
“Sure,” Nora said, getting up.
Thank God she wasn’t going to harp about last night. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I feared it was, Jack thought.
Nora put the food on the table, and Jack sat down.
“The radio is forecasting a twenty percent chance of precipitation for this area,” she said as she passed him some toast. “Six to ten inches of snow. But although there’s not much chance of a blizzard, I’d feel better if we bring in firewood from the shed.”
“Sure,” Jack said as he chewed. “If we stock up on wood, the storm won’t come. By the way, the eggs are good. Better than mine.”
“Thanks,” Nora replied.
Jack took a large sip of tomato juice. The nausea seemed to be easing off. Now if only the headache would go. “Where is the woodshed? I’ll bring in some wood while you clean up here.”
“Just outside the back door. Stack up some on the back porch, too,” Nora said. “I’ll help you when I get done.”
Jack had loaded up the wood box and was bringing the first handful of logs onto the porch when Nora came out to help him. “We’ll have to buy some more wood for next time,” she said as she looked at the nearly empty shed. “Of course, there’s always the chain saw, but I’d hate to cut down any of the beautiful trees in the yard.” She pointed to the naked maples and walnuts.
Jack grinned. “I’ll take your word on the beautiful part.” He stetched his arms over his head and yawned. The exercise had done wonders for helping clear away the headache. He looked around at the panorama of forest. “It is really stunning here, though. Want to go for a walk in the woods?”
“I’d like that,” Nora said. She slipped her hand in his, and they slowly walked up the path leading to the top of the mountain. Some twenty minutes later, they got there, and rested on a smooth, flat stone.
“So peaceful, so different from the city,” Jack said as he put his arm around Nora. She didn’t seem to mind. He looked at her and smiled. “A nice respite, but would you really like to live here?”
“Full time, do you mean?” Nora shook her head. “But it is a nice place to kick back and relax. Some of the other faculty have talked about retiring around here, but that’s not for me. I’d miss the city too much.”
Jack looked at her. “You’re not old enough to think about retirement,” he said.
“I’m turning fifty next year,which is time enough to start thinking,” Nora said. She sighed and snuggled closer. “Growing old is a gift, you know. Consider the alternative.”
Jack chuckled. “Yes, and consider the newfound aches and pains, the stomach paunch you never had before, the knee that gives out every time you try playing a pickup game of basketball.”
Nora looked at him. “Growing old is more than that—at least it can be. I think the most important thing about growing old is maintaining a circle of friends. A support group, as it were. So there’s always someone there when you need them. Families used to fulfill that function.”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “But now must families are disintegrated. There’s not even the famous nuclear family anymore. Just a parent and kids if you’re lucky. And if you’re not—“
“My point exactly,” Nora broke in. “If blood relatives aren’t around, we can create a family of choice.”
“You mean like sisters and older brothers?” Jack said as an edge of bitterness crept into his voice.
“No,” Nora replied quickly. “Something more—“
Jack looked around. “The wind has picked up,” he said as he scanned the sky. “And if those aren’t storm clouds, I’ll be surprised. We’d better get back down to the cabin.”
“I wonder how much it will snow,” Nora said as they started down the trail.
They were halfway down when the first big fluffy snowflakes fell. By the time they got to the cabin, the trees were white with a dusting of snow.
“Looks like we’ll have a nice little snow,” Jack said as they made their way to the cabin door.
“I just hope it stops short of ten inches. I don’t trust the tires on the rental car.” Nora held his gloved fingers and followed him up on the porch, where they stomped off the snow and then turned to look at the storm.
“Nothing to do now but go in and wait it out,” Nora said finally. Jack followed her inside. She took off her coat and then stood by the fire, warming her hands.
“I’ll put on another log,” he said, raking up the coals with a poker. “Then you can bring out your manuscript and let me read it.”
“Now?” Nora asked.
“There won’t be any other distractions,” Jack replied.
Three hours later, they were seated side by side on the couch, discussing Nora’s story of her life as a DA, hardly noticing the snow outside.
“Really, I think you need to tell more about your death penalty decision,” Jack said. “To me, that was your shining moment. You went against your convictions to do what was legally right.”
Nora sighed. “Legally right, but I’m still not sure it was ethically right. Maybe I should have stuck to my convictions and resigned.”
“But you didn’t,” Jack countered, “because you knew you’d have to face the problem of the DP sometime in your tenure. You just had to work out a way to balance personal and public responsibilities. Your actions can serve as a model to others with the same dillemma.”
“But can they?” Nora countered. “It seems now that everyone is out for blood. Arthur Branch has made a point of asking for the DP where I wouldn’t have considered it.”
“All the more reason to show your reasoning, and the soul-searching it took for you to get there,” Jack said. He moved his leg and groaned. “Been sitting too long, and I’m stiff. Give me a minute, and I’ll get up—my God! Look outside, Nora!”
“We’ve been too wrapped up in our discussion to realize—“ Nora began as she looked at the fairyland outside. The snow that weighted down the trees glistened like diamonds. The clouds were parting, and a meek winter sun peeked over the ridge of mountains.
Jack got up slowly and did stretches by the fire while Nora went to the kitchen to turn on the radio.
“…Dutchess County remains under a winter storm watch, although it looks like the worst of it has gone into New England. Partly cloudy tonight, with temperatures falling into the low teens…”
“At least we have lots of wood,” Jack said. “We’ll be able to keep the cabin fairly warm.”
“I’m making some coffee,” Nora said. “And then I’m doing a survey of the cabin. Rachel told me there’s an emergency supply of candles and batteries, and I want to find them, in case the power goes out.”
Jack came into the kitchen, taking the coffee Nora offered him. She was busy looking in the low cabinets for the supplies and was having no luck.
“They’re probably stuck up high,” Jack said, putting down his coffee and stretching over to try and open the cabinet door. It was stuck, and he pulled harder. Then he grimaced.
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Nora asked.
“Just the shoulder,” Jack muttered. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Nora said firmly. “Go into the living room. Sit down on the couch and let me massage it.”
Jack sat down on the edge of the couch and Nora sat close beside him. Slowly, she rubbed the back of his neck and his shoulders. Jack sighed as Nora’s fingers worked their magic. “Almost as good as a hot bath,” he said, patting her hand. “Thanks, Nora.”
Nora’s hands rested on his shoulders. “Just one of the things a friend does for a friend,” she said. Jack turned, and Nora laughed as she fell into his lap. “Is this something else a friend does for a friend?” she teased.
“Only if she wants it,” Jack said, embracing her and kissing her lightly on the lips.
Nora looked at him. “I was wondering if you’d want it, too,” she said wistfully.
Jack stoked her hair. “Why wouldn’t I want it?”
“Because of who I am—and who you are,” Nora said.
“My reputation,” Jack said sadly. “Nora, that reputation is highly exaggerated. I’m not a young man, you know.”
“And I wouldn’t want a young man,” Nora said earnestly. “Young men don’t have the depth of experience—of feelings for another—that you have.”
“And what do you know about that?” Jack teased. “Don’t tell me you listened to the gossip around the water cooler.”
“No, I listened to you. Watched you, both before we worked together and after. You are a very caring individual, Jack McCoy.” She stroked his cheek.
Jack stared at the fire. “Only one other woman has said those words to me,” he said softly.
“Claire was a fine student, and a fine person,” Nora said. She held his hand.
“She was the only one who really wanted more from the relationship—more than I was willing to give at the time.” He sighed. “And after her death, the bedroom Olympics started again.”
“I’m not interested in sports,” Nora replied. “I’m interested in you, Jack. The whole person.” She paused. “You know the old poem by Robert Burns? My favorite lines are ‘Grow old along with me, The best is yet to be.’ That’s what I’d like to have in a relationship—a friend to grow old with, who will put up with me as I will put up with him. A person with whom I can cherish each moment, even if it is spent in silence, looking at a fire.” She squeezed his hand.
They looked at the fire.
When Jack took Nora in his arms again, it was with great tenderness. As they slowly kissed, he felt warmth and contentment invade his soul.