Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  “I wish that I could, but I cannot. Philip Rowland was the last domino to fall. He died just a few hours ago from massive head trauma after he wrecked his car last night.”

  “How awful! Oh, his poor wife. She must be in agony. But, I don’t understand. Why do you think his death is tied to the others?”

  “For one, his blood alcohol content was over two point zero and Philip never drove while intoxicated, much less when sober. He had a driver, but he sent him home for the day, telling him he wanted to be alone to go visit Serena’s grave. Two, he left his will and all his legal papers out on his desk, which, according to his secretary, were always kept under lock and key. And three, he withdrew all of his money in the form of cashier’s checks from all of his accounts and had a courier pick them up right before he left work to deliver to his wife. Then he got in his Porsche and thankfully made it out of the city limits before he smashed into a tree. Police report estimates he was traveling over eighty miles an hour—and there were no skid marks.”

  “Dear Lord. How many lives will be ruined before this is truly over? Do you think he did that because he couldn’t handle the fact that Roger killed his daughter? I mean, they were very close.”

  “I wish I could say that was the reason, but I don’t believe it is.”

  “If not that, then what?”

  “Mind you, this is still all being investigated, but it seems that Mr. Rowland had something to do with the false reports issued by Thurman Thomas. The prosecutor subpoenaed his phone records the day Philip crashed. So, it appears that rather than dealing with the fallout, combined with the loss of his daughter, Roger’s involvement and the possibility of conspiracy to commit murder, he opted to not face it. All the particulars are still sketchy but that’s the way things are pointing. Now that Detective Knowles is awake and able to talk, I’m sure all the missing pieces will be forthcoming.”

  I felt the medicine begin to take control of my mind. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, so I said, “You said something about the County when you walked in. Please, tell me and make it quick. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my eyes open.”

  To my surprise, Mr. LaFont smiled. “This news I don’t mind sharing. After all that has happened, the County wants to settle as soon as possible, before the egg dries on their faces. The offer on the table is five million. Do you want me to counteroffer?”

  I wasn’t sure if my head was spinning now from the medication or the news. Though it was more blood money that would never bring my Jack or mother back to me, my share would be enough that I could breathe without concern again. I tried to figure out what Bertrand’s percentage would be, but my fuzzy brain couldn’t concentrate on the numbers. “Help me out here. What would that be after your thirty-three percent?”

  “Finally! The question I’ve been waiting to answer. Mrs. Dickinson, I know it won’t change what has happened, but hopefully, it will give you some stable ground to stand on. I decided to forgo my percentage, so you will get it all. Now, other than healing, you just need to figure out what you would like to spend it on, once you sign the papers of course.”

  I felt the tears leak out of my eyes and their wetness form on the pillow, but I couldn’t get my mouth to speak the words from my heart. I drifted off into peaceful sleep, thanking the Lord in my mind as I marveled over the gems of love He always left behind, even in the wickedest of storms.

  He had just granted me the biggest, most precious stone—justice for Jack.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - SIX MONTHS LATER

  The night sky was clear, for the brisk breezes earlier had blown all the clouds away and exposed a sky full of vibrant, twinkling stars. I felt the frigid air in my leg and fingers. Though the broken bones had healed at last, the remnants of the injuries lingered with the changing temperature.

  I glanced at my watch and smiled. In less than ten minutes, the lights would be turned on and the newest addition to the millions of other lights would be revealed. I’d waited five long months for this day, my final act of love for Jack and my mother.

  For a few quiet moments, I stared into the moonlight sky and embraced the peacefulness my heart felt. Though my steps had been slow, I was making progress down the pathway to healing. Once I left Regina’s and settled in to my new home at Mom’s house and started my job, I found myself taking another step each day. Though many nights had been spent crying myself to sleep, I found solace during the day in all the blessings I still had in my life. Now, almost six months later, I was able to close my eyes at night and rest without staining my pillow with the saltiness of my tears.

  My job at the university was more than fulfilling. The students were a joy to teach and I found myself looking forward to seeing them each morning. Something about their youthful vigor brought a smile to my face. For the first time in a very long time, I felt useful and knew what I was doing was making a real difference to others.

  I had watched Regina and Kendal’s relationship blossom over the summer and fall and was thankful that at least some happiness had come from all the sorrow. At first it was rather odd, considering everything, especially the awkward conversation that Kendal and I had once I left the hospital. I had still been a tad wary about what I witnessed that day in Sheridan between him and Guy. He explained that he had been doing a bit of reconnaissance of his own. When he reconnected with old ties in Sheridan and discovered Guy had hired a private investigator to take incriminating pictures, Kendal contacted him and offered the one thing an addict wants besides drugs: money.

  His plan had been to fool Guy into thinking he wanted the pictures so he could keep them from me and destroy them, then actually take them to Detective Knowles. At the time, Kendal hadn’t been aware of the other set with Roger and Serena. It wasn’t until he sat in the waiting room of the hospital with Regina that he even remembered the envelope. When he opened it, he told me he’d almost fainted. The tension between the two of us was washed away with our tears as we cried together. He forgave me for thinking the worst of him and we both agreed that it was high time to put the past behind us and bury the mistakes we both had made.

  My counseling sessions with Pastor Trent helped as well. He listened and didn’t judge or admonish my thoughts and feelings, even when, during the first few, I was so full of anger that my words would have been continuously bleeped had they been on television. The majority of my anger was at Jack for cheating on me, but a good portion was also directed internally for my own mistakes. After months of soul searching, I came to realize that none of us could shoulder all of the blame for what had happened. We were imperfect human beings that had each made mistakes that simply compounded and created a voracious monster which, once unleashed, destroyed us all.

  Pastor Trent concurred with my mother’s wedding day advice—communication was the key. He also added that wisdom, patience, honesty and forgiveness, together with communicating with others, were what held relationships together. And he was right. Had secrets not been kept between me and Jack, I wouldn’t have pulled away from him and he wouldn’t have strayed. If the detective wouldn’t have succumbed to the pressure to solve the case quickly, Jack would have never been behind bars. If Philip Rowland and Bill Witham had practiced a bit more patience, they wouldn’t have jumped to the conclusion that Jack was Serena’s murderer and conspired to kill him. If Thurman Thomas didn’t have a closet full of his own secrets that he wished to be kept hidden, he wouldn’t have been so easily molded by Philip’s heavy hand. Each transgression piled upon the one before it and the monster grew to epic proportions.

  But the biggest catalyst of all was grief. It changed people. The overwhelming loss of a loved one caused all of us to do things completely against our personalities. Our internal moral compasses had been skewed by a heavy cloud of sorrow. Consumed by our losses, none of us had clean hands in our responses to death. We all were guilty of reacting emotionally, assuming things before the truth was known.

  At the end of each visit, Pa
stor Trent would slide over a handwritten note with a listing of particular scriptures he wanted me to read before our next meeting. I would go home and read them, feeling the Lord speak to my heart, and as time passed, my anger eased and finally ceased. When Pastor Trent noticed the change in me, he asked if I would like to help out in the nursery. At first, I balked at the idea, afraid that being around the sweet babies would rip open my old wounds again. But one day while at the grocery store, I watched a young mother dote and coo to her little bundle as she shopped, and realized I didn’t feel the lump in my throat like I used to, so I gave the nursery a shot the next Sunday. Though they weren’t mine, I bonded with each snuggly baby and showered them with hugs and kisses for an hour and a half each week. Soon, I realized the longing for one of my own had lessened as I came to grips with my new life.

  Mrs. Preston and I had grown very close during the last few months. It was like the Lord placed her in my life as a surrogate mother. Her outrageous stories of her younger days always brought a smile to my face, even though I didn’t believe half of them. As with any true southern woman, she enjoyed embellishing her tales, but I didn’t care. We spent a lot of time together discussing what I should do with the money, and when I told her my idea, she loved it and helped me with the preliminary drawings.

  There was only one thing in my life that I hadn’t settled yet and that was how I should go about thanking Detective Knowles for saving my life. Even though I had known he was in the same hospital as me, I refused to go see him once I was released. I was still too angry at that point. When Regina suggested that I at least call him, I declined. My thought process at the time was that if it weren’t for his original mistake, neither of us would be in the situation we were in. While I spouted these angry words to Regina, I knew they were horrible things to say and think, but I couldn’t help it. I knew seeing his face would keep the wound fresh and I needed to heal.

  I had burned the letter that Roger left me without ever reading it. Nothing he could have said would lessen the painful outcome of his misplaced, so-called love for me. Though I did understand the pain of losing your spouse and could sympathize with his sorrow, the path he chose after his wife’s death I couldn’t fathom. While awake, I refused to think about him or speak his name. Even during my counseling sessions, I steered clear of talking about him. I figured if I didn’t think about him, eventually memories of my former boss and what he did would cease to exist. It worked, to a point. Rarely during waking moments did I think of Roger—but the day on my kitchen floor still haunted my dreams, even though the nightmares were decreasing as I learned to let go of the hate inside my heart.

  I took a deep breath and watched the hot steam leave my mouth and disappear into the air. It was time to stop wandering down memory lane and get going. I straightened my hat and slid on my gloves, forcing myself not to limp as I made my way out to the main courtyard. This would be my tenth year as a volunteer at the Garden and it would have been Mom’s fifteenth. It was a holiday tradition that we both had enjoyed doing together. Although the place was spectacular during the other three seasons with all the beautiful arrangements of flowers, shrubs and trees, it became a magical fairyland during the winter. It was the perfect place to have a memorial for Jack and Mom and the decision as to what to do with the money from the County had been an easy one to make.

  The owner of the Garden, Mollie Gateway, had asked me to do the honors of turning on the switch. Though the light show started on December first, I had requested the newest addition not be turned on until Christmas Eve. I had thanked Mollie for not only granting my request, but understanding when I rejected her offer. I told her I preferred to be with friends and family only when they came on, because I didn’t want to cry in front of all the onlookers. She caved with a hint of sadness and offered the duty to another staffer.

  “There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you. It’s almost time!”

  Regina and Kendal were sitting on the small bench closest to the front gates, bundled from head to toe. They rose in unison, holding hands as they walked over to me. I hugged them both and smiled, pointing to the small golf cart about ten feet away. “Hey, not to worry. I’m driving us over there. Come on.”

  “Oh, Lord, please tell me that thing doesn’t go over ten miles an hour? With you behind the wheel, I’ll be scared,” Kendal teased.

  “Gee, Kendal. Love hasn’t changed that sharp wit of yours, has it?” I replied as I scooted around and climbed in to the driver’s seat. “Say, where’s Mrs. Preston? I thought she was riding with you?”

  “Aww, I’m just joshin’ ya, girl. Don’t worry, she’s on her way. She’s ridin’ with a friend. They’re gonna meet us at the display. But, before we head over there, let me snap a picture of my two favorite gals.”

  Regina’s warm face pressed against my cheek in a nanosecond, followed by her hand in front of my face. “So, you already know I can’t keep a secret for more than a second, but you will be happy to know you are the first person we’ve told. Look what I got for Christmas!”

  Kendal snapped the shot just as my mouth fell open from shock at the enormous diamond sparkling on her ring finger. My two rocks would soon become one unit.

  I beamed. “Awww, congratulations! What wonderful news, though can’t say that I’m shocked. When’s the big day?”

  “Decided it was high time to make an honest woman outta her,” Kendal said, easing his bulky frame into the cart, “and that decision I am stayin’ out of. I ain’t no dummy. I already know my part will only be to show up. I’ll leave the plannin’ to the two of you.”

  “It’s going to take a lot more than a shiny bauble and your last name to do that,” Regina spouted back. “Now, see there? That’s why I’m marrying him. He knows I’m the boss already!” We all laughed as I drove along the winding, paved trails of the Garden to the designated spot while Regina talked a hundred miles an hour about her wedding plans. When I pulled up and parked, she reached over and hugged me.

  “Oh, Mel, what a wonderful idea. I still can’t believe you did this. What an awesome tribute to Jack and your mom. I just know they are smiling down on you right now, pleased as punch.”

  I shrugged off her compliment. “It’s my way of making sure the world never forgets them, that’s all. Besides, I had no desire to keep the County’s money. I wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for…”

  “Let’s not talk about that tonight, okay? Tonight is the time for celebrating. God’s love for mankind and ours for Jack and Ms. Lucinda. Oh, and look! The plaque is stunning! ‘In Memory of Jackson Tyler Dickinson and Lucinda Barrett—may you both soar on your wings until we meet again and fly together.’ How beautiful.”

  Before I could respond, the hum of electricity surrounded us, followed by the lights. We all stood in awe, taking in the amazing display in front of us.

  I had donated almost the entire amount I received from the County to the Garden, in exchange for the services of Ralph Jenkins, the light designer of the Garden. The money bought an additional two acres of empty land adjacent to the already thirty acres owned by the Garden. The wooded land was full of pine and oak trees around the edges and a perfect, open glen in the middle. Though Mrs. Preston and I had given the rough idea of what I wanted and had seen Mr. Jenkins’ sketches on paper, seeing it completed was astounding.

  The trees were decorated in solid purple, each strand wrapped by hand from the roots to the very tops, and down the expanse of each branch. The glen had been transformed into a sea of pink flowers, varying in size from two feet to eight feet. The stems were trimmed in bright green and a brilliant yellow center graced each open flower.

  But the effect that left us all speechless was the butterflies. The first set on our left started out small, maybe a foot across, and sat on top of an empty chrysalis rimmed in dark blue lights. Orange and black lights created the wings of the butterfly and the lights moved in perfect unison, giving the illusion of flight to the next flower. With each s
hort stop, the butterfly grew in size, and once it landed on the last large flower, the wings shimmered as it rose up gracefully through the tops of the trees and disappeared. The process started all over again, repeating every minute.

  “Oh, darlin’! That’s simply breathtakin’. Better than this old mind could have ever imagined.”

  We all turned around to the sound of Mrs. Preston’s voice, her excitement contagious. My smile and response were cut short when I recognized her escort. I shot a look at Regina and she gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged, but the twinkle behind her eyes was a dead giveaway. She knew. I could tell Kendal did as well due to the smirk on his face and the fact that he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  It took me a few seconds to find my voice and manners. I moved over and hugged Mrs. Preston’s neck. “Isn’t it just wonderful? Thank you so much for helping me do this.” I let go and cleared my throat, then turned my attention to her guest and acknowledged him. “Detective Knowles. How nice of you to bring Mrs. Preston here. I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.”

  Mrs. Preston waved off my comment with her gloved hand. “I need to get a bit closer to see all the details.” She shooed me away and walked over to where Regina and Kendal stood, leaving me and the detective stranded.

  “Mrs. Dickinson. Good to see you again.”

  I eyed him with suspicion, fully aware that this was all planned. If my friends weren’t within earshot, I would have let my thoughts erupt. Instead, I lowered my head and turned my body to face his, my voice quiet. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same thing, Detective. Why are you here?”

  “It’s just Craig now.”

  “What?”

  “I’m no longer at the police department. Haven’t been for a few months now, so it’s just Craig.”

  I studied his face and noted the thick, dark scar that started in his hairline and disappeared under his shirt. Regina had told me his injuries had been extensive and that he would have died from the massive amount of blood he lost if Kendal hadn’t arrived and pulled us free from the rubble when he did. Kendal’s tire had blown the day he was chasing me, leaving him stuck out in the raging storm as he changed it. We marveled later at how something that seemed a stumbling block at the time turned out to be a saving grace, for if he’d have been at the house any sooner, Kendal would have been in the debris along with us.