The Trial by Larry D. Thompson

Luke’s part-time secretary, telling him that she needed to take an indefinite leave of absence. Her daughter in West Texas was having a difficult pregnancy and had been put on bed rest by her doctor. Luke nodded his understanding and said he would figure out a way to get by.
    After Ruth had gone, Samantha walked down the stairs and knocked quietly at Luke’s open door. Luke looked up from his computer, smiled, and said, “Hi, Sam. When did you ever find it necessary to knock to come into my office?”
    “Just being polite, Father. Can I sit down?”
    Luke wondered what was going on. He didn’t recall ever seeing his daughter with this attitude. He gestured for her to take a seat. “What’s going on, Sam? You decide to go back to College Station to look for a job?”
    “No, sir. I heard Ruth talking to you. I’m not doing much these days. I thought that if you need me, I could help out around the office. I can answer the phone. I’m a good typist. I even know how to make coffee,” she added. “And I’ve been thinking. I can’t blame you for everything in my life, particularly for my bombing at A&M. I made those five F’s, not you. I think I’ve learned I have to accept responsibility for my actions.”
    Luke put down his pen and took off his glasses. He reached for a Kleenex and idly wiped them as he looked at his daughter. What’s happening here? he thought. Then he realized that he at least had to give Samantha a chance. “Okay, you’re hired. Hours are ten to three. Pay is ten dollars an hour,” he replied, “plus room and board, of course.”
    Samantha stood and reached her hand over his desk. Luke was uncertain what she was doing until it dawned on him that she was expecting to seal the deal with a handshake. He also got to his feet and took her hand. “I accept, Father. I’ll start tomorrow if that’s okay.”
    Samantha was in her office across from Luke’s at nine the next morning. Cocoa wandered back and forth between the two rooms, not sure what was going on. Finally she decided that since it was daylight, her proper place was in Luke’s office on the rug in front of the fireplace. Samantha wore a dress and had her hair back in a bun, doing her best to look professional. She busied herself with rearranging the office and even brought a few photos down from her room for the walls. Around ten thirty she saw an African American couple of indeterminate age climbing the steps with two grocery bags. They knocked on the front door and waited for someone to greet them.
    Samantha jumped to the door. “Morning, miss. Is Ruth here?” the gentleman asked.
    “Ruth’s away for a while. I’m Samantha. Please come in.”
    “No need, Miss Samantha,” the woman replied. “We’ve had a good fall crop and just wanted to bring Mr. Vaughan some vegetables. Would you see that he gets these? We know he’s a busy man, and we’ll be on our way.”
    Samantha thanked the visitors as they turned to go down the steps. She walked to her father’s office, and he smiled when he saw the two grocery bags. “Looks like the Watsons dropped by. Just take those up to the kitchen.”
    “Father, why are they bringing you vegetables?”
    “They drop by three, four times a year, sometimes more. Their son was in a little trouble a few years ago. I helped him out. They live on a disability check, and Mr. Watson grows some vegetables in the backyard. They couldn’t afford a lawyer, so I didn’t charge them anything. Ever since, I get fresh vegetables. I try to tell them it’s not necessary, but they won’t hear of it.”
    As Samantha turned and climbed the stairs to the kitchen, she thought that maybe there was a side to her father she’d never seen before.
    *   *   *
    “Vaughan Law Office. This is Samantha. How can we help you?” Samantha discovered that she liked answering the phone. Luke’s clients were varied: old, young, male, female, all races, most of apparently modest means. Some wanted wills. Some