And then, it was time for classes again. The routine re-established itself. Mairin had caught up fairly well with her case load at work. At school she was falling into new patterns of study--different only in class nights and topics. And then one late fall afternoon when she returned to the agency after home visits, there was a message from Carol Thomas, her supervisor, to please see her right away.

"It’s about Sandra Guilford," had been added to reinforce the message’s importance. Sandra Guilford had been one of Carol’s cases. She had been a spectacular success--both for Carol and for herself. She had become blind in her teens, from retinal detachments. She had come to the agency a depressed, sullen young lady. She had been sure that her life was over. And then Carol had taken her in hand. She told Sandra in no uncertain terms that Sandra could make it.

It had taken a long, long time, but Sandra had done it. She’d learned Braille, she’d gotten a guide dog, she’d finished high school and had completed college with a degree in counseling. She was the opposite of Mr. Brush in that she had brought many innate talents to the project of rehabilitation. And she was strikingly beautiful. She had become a valuable spokesperson for the agency and its services and rarely turned down a request to address a community group.

When she had finished college, she had gotten a job as residential director for a group home for retarded adult women, most of whom were employed. It was a matter of extreme pride to Carol that Sandra had gotten a job outside of what insiders knew as the "blindness system." She was employed in a job where she had had to compete fully with sighted applicants. No breaks had been given to her because of blindness. There were certain jobs that were designed for blind people. For instance, the IRS had developed a special program to train blind professionals to handle phone queries during the busy spring months. Many, many more such jobs were needed. But Sandra deserved special applause for getting a job that was in no way tailored to her handicap. As Mairin walked to Carol’s office, she wondered what problem could have arisen.

Carol was deep in case files when Mairin came in and sat down in the deskside chair. "Got your message," she said.

"Thanks for coming," said Carol. "Sandra is really in a mess. You know how difficult her board can be. There’s one faction that’s been especially difficult. Now they’ve gained some strength. They claim that she can’t really do the job of director, that she’s not performing adequately. They really want to get rid of her. They can’t do that, can they?"

"You mean they can’t fire her because of her blindness."

"Right. They can’t, can they?"

"No, there are federal and state laws that prohibit discrimination that’s based on a handicap. You said that her board has been difficult. I don’t know that I’ve been aware of that. How does that fit in?"

"Basically she was hired by the board three years ago when Mrs. Lester was chairman. There was a real honeymoon period. The media loved the situation. We have good public relation ties, and so does Evergreen House. Sandra is a knock-out, as we all know. She’s very photogenic. There were a number of newspaper articles and a TV documentary. Both agencies got lots of good publicity.

"But there were some people on the board that Sandra never got along too well with. They’ve been critical of her all along. They magnify every little incident that they think shows weakness on the part of a blind person. They also have certain ideas on how to handle mentally retarded people that don’t square with Sandra ‘s."

"For instance?"

"A good 'for instance.' Sandra invited a nurse from Planned Parenthood to give an evening program on sex education. Barbara Gill, one of the board members, raised a real howl. Said Sandra was putting ideas in the girls’ heads."

"Oh, for pete's sakes."

"That’s what I said when I heard about it. Anyway, let Sandra tell you all this directly. Can you go see her?"

"I’ve got tomorrow afternoon free."

"Let me see if I can get her on the phone."
 
 
 
 

Carol had set up a mid-afternoon appointment between Mairin and Sandra. Mairin decided to walk over. Both agencies were located in the same part of town, an area with educational, cultural and historical organizations. It was a lovely area but bordered rundown inner-city housing. Evergreen House was an old mansion that had been abandoned in the movement of the wealthy to the suburbs. It had been restored for its current use and had been named due to its many trees and shrubs, only a few of which were truly evergreen. It was a lovely old house, large enough to house eight women and the director.

Sandra was waiting for Mairin in the big living room. She invited Mairin into her own rooms. They were neat and comfortable, in a homey way. Only the Braille writer on the desk and the guide dog curled up in the corner indicated that the occupant lived a slightly different life.

"You’re right on time," said Sandra Guilford.

"It was a nice walk," said Mairin.

"Will you have some iced tea? I brought a fresh pitcher in just a few minutes ago."

"Yes, thank you," said Mairin. "It is hot out today."

Sandra Guilford carefully poured the iced tea, crooking a finger over the rim of the glass to be able to tell when the liquid reached the right level. They sat, talking a bit of small talk, waiting to feel as comfortable as possible with each other.

Sandra began. "I talked with Carol yesterday about this difficulty that I’m having with my board. She told me that you were in law school. I’m sure that I’ll need some legal advice, but I’m not sure where to start."

"So that’s left no one person with the kind of grasp of the board that she had. I get along very well with most of the members, but this little clique of four or five people has decided to get me out. They claim that I can’t do the job, that managing a home for the retarded takes vision. They claim the women aren’t safe with me here."

Her voice grew angry. "But that’s not the real issue. The real issue is that they have all these preconceived garbage ideas about retarded people. They’re as prejudiced as the community that we’re supposed to be enlightening. I know what these women can do, and I’ve told them so."

I’ll bet you have, thought Mairin. She was marvelling at the force of personality and temperament that Sandra was displaying.

"We had a great go-round about a sex education program recently."

"So Carol told me."

"And there have been all sorts of other incidents like that."

"What is their position now?"

"They want me to resign. But if I don’t resign--which I will not do--they have a clever idea. They will try to retire me on disability. This is a private agency, but my position is publicly funded. So there’s public retirement involved. And they’ll apply for that retirement for me, on grounds of disability."

"I don’t believe it."

"Believe it. They’re no fools. See how nice they’re treating me? I can collect disability retirement at twenty-eight."

"That ‘s ludicrous."

"Sure it is. What can we do? At their next board meeting, two weeks from Thursday, in lieu of my resignation, they’ll complete an employer’s certificate of disability and file it with the retirement board."

"I’d like to talk this over with a few people," said Mairin. "I’m living with Bea and Harry Warncke this year. He’s a common pleas judge, and I’d like to know what he thinks. Then I’ll get back to you."

"Can you do it quickly? I’m worried.

"Yes, of course."
 
 
 
 

It was after five when Mairin got her car from the agency parking lot, and she was later than usual to school. Parking was at a real premium. "Bastard!" she said to a white sports car that took a place she’d spotted. She sat through her class in personal property, but it wasn’t registering.

She got home at 9:30. "Harry," she said as she came in the door. "I have to talk to you."

Harry grinned. He was in his characteristic place on the sofa with his feet on a hassock. The evening paper was scattered around in various layers. "Sit down, lady," he said. Bea left you some dinner in the oven. She’s playing cards down the hall at Thelma’s."

Mairin sat down in Bea's big blue chair. "I had an appointment with Sandra Guilford today." And she related the afternoon’s conversation.

"So," she said. "What do we do now?"

"That’s a tough one."

"But what will we do?" pressed Mairin. "They don’t have any right to do that. It’s an internal problem. They’re using the blindness in a discriminatory manner. Surely they can’t do that!"

"No," said Harry, "they can’t. But they’ll get away with it.

"Honey," he added, seeing Mairin twist around in the chair, "come eat your dinner, and I’ll tell you why."

They went out to the kitchen. Mairin got the dinner out of the oven and began eating as Harry sat down across the table. "Look," he began, ‘there are lots of nice ladies on the board--nearly all of them married to men with money and power. They’re the establishment. They’ll come into court with big, puzzled looks on their faces and wringing their hands. ‘She’s blind,’ they’ll say. ‘We have the interests of those poor retarded women at heart. We feel compassion for Sandra Guilford, but the residents come first. We gave her a chance to do the job, but it was a mistake. She can’t do it.’ Any jury in the land would buy their argument. They don’t believe that blind people can do the things that you have shown me that they can do."

"But you can show a jury that, too."

"No, Mairin, no. You’ve got to believe me. I’ve been a judge twenty years. If there’s one thing that I know, it’s that a jury won’t buy this case. Don’t fight it. Mairin, believe me, she may be right, but she’ll never convince a jury."

"It can’t be, Harry, it just can’t be. A good lawyer could convince them. . . . Michael Morgan probably could."

"I’m sure he’d see this differently than I do, but I’m sure I’m right. Hell, Mairin, let me sit down with the board. Maybe we can work out a settlement."

"She doesn’t want a settlement. She wants her job." Mairin was beginning to sound angry.

"Honey, it’s late. It’s eleven o’clock, and you’ve got a big day tomorrow. My best offer is a good one. I’ll talk to the board. Maybe we can work something out. Sleep on it, and we’ll talk tomorrow."

Mairin slept fitfully. When she got to the agency, she put in a call to Michael Morgan. He returned it late that afternoon. He set a time for Sandra Guilford and Mairin to meet with him.
 
 

They had an early supper that night, Mairin, Harry and Bea together as Mairin had no class that night. Pushing back his chair and reaching for his second cup of coffee, Harry remembered. "Oh, yes, Mair, have you decided what to do about this Sandra Guilford?"

"We’re going to talk with Michael Morgan." There was no other way to say it. She had found with Harry that if she dodged at all, he would just start throwing questions, and like a dart-thrower outlining a body with darts, pin her down to the exact spot where she belonged.

"That’s okay, Mair. I’m not annoyed. I just realize that the two of us would handle this case in completely different ways.