Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Mel, it’s Kendal. I saw you today…walking outside the jail. I…I was going to go visit Jack, too, if they’d let me. But, when I saw you, I left. At least I know you’re okay. If you feel like talking, call me.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about Kendal. Guilt at my selfishness punched me in the chest. Jack and Kendal were closer than flesh and blood brothers. They looked enough alike in the face to pass as kin. Their friendship had started in the sixth grade and never faltered. Kendal was the best man at our wedding, and a permanent fixture almost every weekend at our house, especially during football and basketball season. They were as close as Regina and I were, if not closer.

  My guilt morphed over to irritation the more I thought along those lines. They were close. Did Jack tell Kendal about the affair? Did he confide his transgressions to his best friend, maybe seeking guidance, redemption or spiritual support? Even, maybe, to brag about his new squeeze?

  I deleted the last voicemail and clicked over to my text messages. The most recent one was from Kendal, sent about three hours ago.

  Mel, I'm praying for you both.

  Kendal was right—I didn’t feel like talking. But suspicion niggled away at me until I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I decided to send him a text.

  I’m okay. Laying low for a bit. Things are not good. Not in mood to talk on phone, but wanted to say I’m sorry I haven’t responded until now

  Regina’s pack of smokes was half gone and my mouth tasted like a dirty ashtray, but I didn’t care. I lit another one and waited as the sun began to rise over the hill to see if Kendal was up and would respond. I didn’t have to wait long.

  Oh, Mel! Good to hear from you. This is just awful. A nightmare. Are you somewhere safe? What can I do to help?

  I decided not to tippy-toe around and just flat out ask him.

  Nightmare is putting it mildly. Need to know something. Kendal, did you know about the affair?

  Less than fifteen seconds later, my phone buzzed in my hand.

  No, Mel. I didn’t. I would have said something to you or convinced Jack to tell you. You know how I feel about that subject

  Indeed I did. Kendal had been married for six years to a woman who cheated on him so many times we all lost count. When he decided to end the marriage, she beat him to the punch and drained his bank account before splitting town with one of her lovers. Poor Kendal came close to a nervous breakdown. Hit the bottle heavy for two years until Jack convinced him to get help. We watched him go from a destroyed man to a new one when he gave his life over to the Lord. He’d been standing on the solid rock of his faith ever since. My guilt came back for even suspecting he knew.

  Mel, please, call me? I hate this form of communication. It’s worse than social media

  Jack’s parents were dead and like me he had no siblings, so the only person who knew him better than I did in the world was Kendal. The urge to hear his voice hit me hard, so before I could stop myself, I pushed the button and called him. He answered on the first ring.

  “Thank goodness. My fingers were getting tired.”

  “Hey, Kendal. I’m…I’m sorry I waited so long.”

  “Mel, please don’t be. I’m surprised you’re even coherent. I’d be a drooling fool. Almost am as it is.”

  “Oh, I’ve already had several breakdowns. One of them was on top of Pinnacle yesterday. Another was inside the jail. Fell face down in front of a crowded room of visitors and inmates. Fainted dead away in Roger’s office on Monday when I…found out about Serena. Blew up at my mother, my boss, my best friend. It’s been fun.”

  “Girl, I always knew you were strong but this is like Greek lore. You’re a regular Hercules.”

  “Well, like Hercules, fire can kill him. This firestorm has burnt me. To a crisp.”

  “But, you’re still standing. So, are you back at home?”

  I sighed and lit another cigarette. “No, but I’m going back tomorrow. Roger said the police finally cleared me to go back. Can’t wait to see the mess they left. My house is probably in shambles. At least I’ll have the weekend to work on cleaning up. Besides, I’m tired of not sleeping in my own house. Roger’s place is nice, but it isn’t home.”

  “That was really nice of him, letting you get away from not only work but the prying eyes of the media. Isn’t his place in Mount Pine, deep in the woods?”

  “No, Caddo Valley. But as much as I appreciate him letting me hide here, I have to go back to reality and start trying to pick up the pieces. I have to function as the sole bread-winner, which means I have to keep my job. There’s no telling how long all of this will last or how much it will cost. And whether I end up spending the rest of my life alone while Jack is behind bars.”

  Kendal sighed. “So, you went to see him. Do you want to talk about it?”

  I knew that wasn’t the only reason Kendal asked. He wanted to know if the man he had loved for longer than I did admitted to taking the life of another. “Look, Kendal. I know you want to talk about this and really, I understand the need to. You love Jack. He’s your best friend. I love Jack. But our love for him doesn’t change what’s happened.”

  “Oh, Mel, there’s just no way. Jack wouldn’t…he couldn’t…the news reports are just filthy lies.”

  “Kendal. I read the autopsy report. Viewed the mountain of evidence against him and watched some of it with my own eyes. The case against him isn’t just circumstantial. It’s a slam dunk.”

  “Did you meet with the police today?”

  “No, I went to see his lawyer, Bertrand LaFont, after I left the jail. When Jack dropped the bomb on me, I went straight to Bertrand’s office. Roger said the police still want to talk to me, but I knew I couldn’t handle that meeting without losing my marbles. Turns out, my meeting with Bertrand wasn’t any better. Guess the venue really doesn’t matter when you get blindsided with what I saw today.”

  Uncomfortable silence ensued. I couldn’t bring myself to rehash the events of yesterday and I sensed Kendal didn’t want to know the gory details that would seal the coffin on his friendship with Jack. Fatigue bore down on me and I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. I decided the insects had fed enough on my blood and that I should go inside and attempt to get some rest. My eyes were getting heavy and my head was pounding from all the squinting the last several hours. I cursed my weak eyes.

  “Kendal, listen, I’m exhausted and I need—”

  “Please, don’t apologize, Mel. Go, get some sleep. Thanks for calling me back. I’ve…I’ve really been worried about you. If you need any help cleaning up this weekend, call me, okay?”

  “Sure thing. Listen, one favor?”

  “Anything. Shoot.”

  “Pray. For all of us. Because I can’t seem to do that right now.”

  “Always, Mel. Always.”

  I disconnected the call without another word. I could hear the pain in Kendal’s voice and knew our conversation would be relived later through his tears, and my own.

  Simba followed me back inside and curled up next to me on the couch. Thankfully, sleep came quickly for us both.

  The water was cold but not freezing. The brilliant azure liquid shimmered all around me as I floated effortlessly under the waves. The tranquil silence enveloped me in a state of bliss and I watched colorful sea creatures swim by, oblivious to my intrusion into their world. I looked up and watched the sun sparkle through the depths and felt myself smile.

  Basking in the comforting water, my eyes soaked in the beautiful surroundings. Free and unchained, my body moved without my prodding, bringing me closer to a school of candy-colored fish. The montage of color turned the blue sea into a living rainbow as the fish swam in practiced unison.

  Drifting inside their midst, I realized the colors weren’t from the fish. The fish weren’t fish at all—they were floating pictures of my life with Jack. The water seemed warmer as it embraced me, my heart swelling with love at the memories in front of me.

>   Jack and I on our first date, the first tender kiss received in full view of the sparkling stars on the park bench under a magnolia tree. Jack and I at the zoo the day he arranged for a private tour of the newborn tigers, the smallest one with a bow around its neck, my engagement ring daintily swaying from the end of the ribbon. Jack in his tuxedo as he stood at the altar while I walked down the aisle, his grin brighter than the candles surrounding him. The day we signed the papers and bought our first house, and celebrated with a passionate evening of lovemaking in front of the fireplace. Yet another of the evening he saved me from falling into the fire pit and ended up burning his hand.

  Even though I was underwater, I could feel the tears fall from my eyes. My husband, my lover, my best friend and soul mate. The man God sent to me and my reason for getting out of bed each day. His smiling face, his lovely rugged features, and his dark curly hair—my heart pined for it all.

  “Yet you doubt him,” whispered the voice of my mother, her words like a dagger thrust inside my heart.

  The water turned cold and blood red, and the happy images vanished. I realized I was sinking, unable to move my limbs to swim to the surface.

  “But I saw…” I shouted in my head.

  “You didn’t look with your heart. Look again.”

  The image of the hallway appeared, and I watched Jack exit the elevator and approach the room, almost in slow motion. This time, I noticed something.

  His gait was wrong. His shoulders were too narrow, the thighs too thin. The curls that peeked out from under the ball cap were too loose to be Jack’s. His hair was much curlier. Thicker. Coarser. The image changed; now it showed the man approaching a hotel room door, moving past a large vase of flowers on the small table in the hallway. I could see the tips of the flowers above his head. My mind conjured up the image of Jack leaving the same hotel room and watched him pass the same flowers. I couldn’t see the tips.

  Because the man who walked by was shorter by at least one full inch.

  The video image disappeared, replaced by the enlarged picture from the lingerie store. My eyes were immediately drawn to the hand holding the underwear.

  There was no scar. The hand that held the silky panties didn’t belong to Jack.

  “Now do you see?”

  Yes, yes! Oh, my God—it’s not Jack! Praise Jesus, it’s not my Jack!

  A surge of adrenaline kicked me into gear and I found I could control my limbs. I swam toward the intense light on the surface, my heart bursting with renewed vigor.

  And love.

  I jerked up from the couch like a bolt of lightning had just shot through me. Simba started barking as she followed me through the living room and into my mom’s room. Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed tying her shoes.

  “Mom, oh, my God! You were right—Jack didn’t kill her!”

  “Child, calm down. I can’t understand you when you talk so fast.”

  My noisy entrance to the real world seemed to have woken Regina, and she stumbled into the room, her hair sticking every which way from a rough night’s sleep. “What’s going on?”

  “I missed it, I totally missed it!”

  My mother grabbed my hand and pulled me down to sit on the bed. Her voice was calm, quiet. “Missed what, honey?”

  “His scar! You know the one on his hand from when he got burned so badly? In my dream, the things I saw yesterday appeared. The picture at the lingerie store—it wasn’t Jack. The guy in the photo doesn’t have a scar. Plus, the hair isn’t curly enough. Too stringy. And the body type—it’s smaller than Jack’s and the killer is at least an inch shorter. Oh, Mom, you were so on target. I feel it, right here,” I said, pointing to my chest, “someone else killed Serena. Not my Jack.”

  “Glory be to the Heavens, girl. Prayers have been answered,” my mother said, and hugged my neck with ferocious intensity. “See what happens when you rely on Him to guide you? You were blind, but now you see.”

  “Amen, Mom. Amen.”

  Tears streaked down Regina’s face as she moved in for a group hug. Her voice was muffled when she asked, “So, what now, Mel?”

  Through my tears of joy, I answered, “I’m going to do everything in my power to help free my husband from jail for a crime that I know he didn’t commit.”

  Regina shut her trunk when the last bit of luggage was loaded, and I hugged her neck. “Thank you. For everything. You are coming over tonight, right?”

  She smiled, her face covered in sweat. The heat was unbearable already and it was only ten o’clock in the morning. “Well duh. Like I’m going to let you tackle the house by yourself. I’m the obsessive-compulsive one, remember? There’s no way I’m going to let you tackle that mess alone.”

  I pressed my sweaty forehead up against hers and smiled. “In case I haven’t told you today, I love you.”

  “Love, is a many splendored thing…la la la don’t know the rest of the words,” Regina quipped. I shook my head at her purposefully poor rendition of the classic song. Regina never had been able to handle deep emotions without becoming a blubbering fool, and tended to hide behind sarcasm. She pulled away from me, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. I smiled and watched as she hopped into her car and sped off. My focus shifted over to my mother, who was trying to lug her heavy suitcase out the door.

  “Mom, please. Let me.”

  “I’m not an invalid, Melody Marie. I’ll get this and take a quick gander inside to make sure we didn’t leave anything. You go take that dog of yours for a walk. It’s too hot outside to be stopping along the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said as a smile crossed my face. Mom surely was the tough old bird she claimed to be. And stubborn as a mule and feisty to boot. She was also the person I admired the most on this earth because of her strong faith. Though I doubted I would ever admit it out loud, I knew that God had spoken through her yesterday to reach me. He planted the seed in me, using my mother as the vessel to deliver the message. Ever since my dream earlier, I realized I hadn’t felt this strong and close to God in years. No longer was the dark, never-ending hole inside me, the one that had been filled with fear, anxiety, worry, pain and anger. It almost was like the water from my dream somehow cleansed me, washing all the darkness away and filling me with hope.

  Thank you, God, for allowing her to be my mother.

  I opened the back door and Simba lunged out, nearly knocking me over. “Come on girl, get busy. We’re going home.”

  Simba sniffed and snorted around the yard until she found the perfect spot to do her business. I walked over to the swing and stared across the Caddo River valley, watching the swift moving water race through the twists and turns cut into the mountainside. The humidity was near eighty percent and sweat plastered my shirt against my chest and back like a second suit. The birds flitted about their merry morning rituals, matched only in dedication by the squirrels that jumped from tree to tree. I saw the hint of pink out of the corner of my eye and smiled, recognizing that it was a resurrection lily. They were one of my favorite flowering bulbs not only for their beauty, but the legend behind them. The poem from my youth popped into my head.

  This delicate flower

  Is nature’s way

  Of reminding us what is to come

  On that sweet, blessed day.

  We are like the spring greenery

  That shoots forth to the sky,

  Before full beauty is reached,

  We all must die.

  To achieve our glory

  We need the Master’s touch.

  He cares for us in His garden

  Because He loves us so much.

  Unwilling to cry anymore, I shook the poem from my thoughts and opted to not pick the delicate flower from its spot against the house. Roger obviously enjoyed them too, since the entire flowerbed was bursting with pink. I couldn’t help but feel that their presence was another sign from God. A sign of a new life, new hope, and new direction. Plucking one wouldn’t
hurt, but I’d already invaded every other spot of Roger’s house. I wanted to leave some things untouched. Normal.

  “Come on, Simba, let’s go home.”

  Furry tail wagging like a flag, Simba danced around me like a puppy, like she knew we were leaving. Once I got her situated in the back seat and the air conditioner on full blast, I took one last look at my hideaway and backed out of the driveway.

  “Honey, your phone has been going crazy. Keeps beepin’ and buzzin. You—”

  I reached out and grabbed my mother’s delicate hand, brought it to my lips and kissed it gently.

  “Not now, mom. I want to tell you all about my dream. There will be plenty of time to play catch up once I get home. So,” I began, releasing her cool hand to mute my cell phone and the radio, then focusing my attention back to my rock, “I was underneath the ocean, or in a lake or something, not a care in the world, full of peace and tranquility. The water was warm, comforting…”

  “Mom, are you sure you want to come stay? There’s no telling what mess awaits me at the house. Wouldn’t you like to wait until at least tomorrow, give me and Regina a chance to at least create a path to walk through?”

  “Melody, you’re acting like a tornado ripped through your house or something! I’m sure it will be messy, but manageable. I doubt walls have been torn down or holes punched in the floor. So yes, I am sure. Let me just run inside and get another change of clothes and my other shoes. I’ll be right back.”

  Before I could protest, my stubborn mother was out of the car. I watched as she walked through the carport and unlocked the side door, then disappeared inside. I hoped she would hurry. Simba was drooling all over the back seat and my shoulder, her hot breath making the car smell like dog chow.

  Mom was back in a flash and I backed out of the driveway, grateful she only lived three miles from my house. I was afraid that Simba’s bladder was as close to bursting as my own. I turned onto my street, jabbering away with Mom about my plans for the day.