Waiting for You

by Kasey Croshaw

  “Jack, I thought I told you boys to stay home,” I said.

  “We ran out of, uh, of, um, beer. Yeah, beer. Had to make a beer run,” he stammered. Now he was inebriated.

  “You can’t be driving, Jack. You’re drunk,” I said.

  “I know I’m drunk. Hey your Roger Sloan’s boy,” he said.

  “Yes, Jack, we already established that fact earlier. How long you boys been sitting out here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, don’t wear a watch. Denise wouldn’t sell me no more beer, and she locked up and left,” he answered.

  I figured they must have been out here for at least two hours. The Gas-N-Go closed at 9:00 p.m. I escorted Jack to the cruiser and opened the back door. I did not need to handcuff him. I was more concerned about keeping him warm. I walked to the passenger side of the pickup and rapped my knuckles on the window.

  “Go away. I’m sleepin’,” Elmer’s gruff voice boomed.

  “This is Deputy Sloan, Elmer, step out of the truck,” I instructed.

  The door opened slowly, and he slid off the bench seat, and I had to catch him in mid-fall. “Come with me, buddy. I’m gonna take you guys home,” I said as I tried to walk a very drunk old man to my cruise and get him secured.

  Back at the pickup I leaned across the bench seat from the driver’s side and tapped Ray on his shoulder. He just tipped over to his right with his head laying on the bench. Jesus, he was passed out or asleep. I went around to the passenger side and tried to rouse him. “Ray! Ray Hall! This is the police. Wake up,” I said loudly.

  There was no response. “God damn it, Ray. Wake your lazy ass up!” I yelled. Nothing. I reached in and patted his face to get a reaction. His skin was cold. My mind went into automatic. I felt for a pulse at his carotid artery. The was no pulse. He was dead. I hit my mic. “Dispatch, this is Sloan, I have a 10-52, ambulance needed at the Gas n’ Go in Onyx. Tell them no siren needed. Person is deceased. Also, a 10-55. Intoxicated driver and passenger. I’ll be bringing them in for questioning after they sober up.”

  “Copy that. Ambulance en route, ETA 45 minutes,” dispatch said.

  “10-4,” I answered. I turned off the motor of the truck, turned off the lights, leaving the doors open. I figured it was best if the body was as cold as possible for an autopsy. The coroner was gonna love this story.

  “Jack! Ray!” I shouted when I climbed into the cruise. “Atten-tion!”

  “What? What is it, Serge?” Jack asked. “Hey, your Roger Sloan’s boy.” I wanted to laugh at his drunken stupor, but having the dead body of their friend only a few yards away, it didn’t seem appropriate. When I was in Iraq on the battlefield, the guys were always laughing about some sick shit just to break the tension. This wasn’t that much different, except no one had been shot or blown up. Ray had just died. Peacefully, it appeared. We should all be so lucky.

  “Your friend Ray is dead,” I announced.

  “Ah, Jesus,” Elmer said in a slurred voice. “The fucker never could hold his liquor.”

  “That’s too bad. I hate to lose a friend like Ray. He was good people,” Jack said. “At least he died with his boots on and his dick in his pants.”

  The ambulance finally arrived, and I helped them load Ray’s body on the stretcher. I locked the doors to the truck and followed the EMT’s to Sinclair. I got Elmer and Jack into the holding cell to sober up for questioning the next morning and began to fill out my report.

  It appeared that the town would have another funeral in the next few days. I went home exhausted and fell into bed with Dave.

  “Papa,” Noah said, standing at the side of my bed. I awoke to his little face staring into my eyes.

  “How did you get out of your crib, you little monkey?” I asked, but I looked up to see Dave standing in the bedroom doorway. He came in kissed me and told me he loved me before he headed to the café to open for breakfast.

  I pulled Noah up beside me on the bed, and the two of us fell asleep for a little while until Amber woke us up.

  It was hard not having Berto as a cook at the café. Before he was deported, Georgia could open up and leave most everything to him, but on Thursday, the day of her daughter’s funeral, she didn’t open the café at all. There was no one to run the place as we would all be in church.

  I was somewhat surprised by the number of people in attendance on a late Thursday morning on a cold January day. Churchgoers and heathens alike came dressed in the Sunday best to pay respects, not necessarily to Natalie, but to Georgia and Grandma Betty. Everyone in town and around the valley knew the family. We were kin, and there were no judgments to be made on a day like this, only respect for the dead and respect for two strong women.

  I had heard rumors, but I had no idea how long Mormon funerals could be. I had been to football games shorter than this service. The flowers were beautiful, and the music that was offered was mournful and sad. The speeches by the churchmen were long-winded and pompous, but through it all, it was a nice way to lay Natalie Weston to rest.

  After all the speeches and a final prayer, the young men from the church stood and walked to the coffin as pallbearers. Georgia and Grandma Betty followed arm in arm, followed by Karl and Sandy. Dave and I trailed, with Dave carrying Noah and me carrying Amber.

  The ride to the graveyard in the limousine was very quiet. Even Noah didn’t cry or fuss. The snow began to fall on our way, but the wind remained at bay. The funeral home had put up a tent over the gravesite, provided chairs for the family on a carpet of fake grass to keep our feet off the frozen mud and snow. The Bishop Moore gave a graveside prayer, and one of the women sang “Abide with Me.” After the consecration of the grave, Georgia retrieved seven red roses from the casket flowers and handed one to each of us. I stepped forward first as the casket was lowered into its final resting place and tossed my rose in the hole as I said goodbye. Dave went next, followed by Karl. Grandma Betty dropped her rose into the hole and cried as she said goodbye. She dabbed her eyes with her frilly lace handkerchief and proceeded to comfort Georgia as she stepped forward. Up until that time, Georgia had held it together, but as she tossed her rose down into the darkness of her daughter’s grave, she wailed in grief. Grandma Betty hugged her daughter as they both stood there looking down. Once she regained her composure, Georgia bent down and motioned for Amber to walk to her. She whispered in her granddaughter’s ear. Amber tossed her rose down onto Natalie’s casket. Georgia whispered something more to Amber, and the little girl spoke, “Goodbye Mommy, I love you.”

  That’s when I lost it and started to cry like a baby. The image of that little girl being so brave and telling her mother goodbye for the last time was heart-wrenching. Most of the mourners were now sobbing. Amber turned on her heel as if she was suddenly embarrassed and ran to me. I picked her up and gave her the biggest loves I could garner.

  We piled back into the limousine and headed back to the church, leaving the cold grave site for others to cover with dirt and set the headstone. While we had been attending the graveside service, the women of the church had set up tables and chairs for a luncheon. One thing about it, those Mormon women knew how to cook. Salads, roasts, lasagna, and especially funeral potatoes were set out on a long buffet table.

  Grandma Betty and Georgia went to the buffet table and started to tie on aprons, but the other women shooed them away. Mother and daughter seemed uncomfortable about not helping and being waited on by the ladies of the church. At one point, I noticed that Mae Horton was bent over whispering something to Georgia. She was in a ragged winter coat and men’s snow boots. The woman didn’t look well. I was surprised that she had come to the funeral, but she was part of the community, and she did know Grandma Betty.

  There were a few children there that afternoon, playing in the gymnasium of the church. Another little girl had befriended Amber, and she and her new friend were playing a game of tag with an older girl. Noah was just happy to run between Dave and me, and then to Karl and Sandy. He was a friendly little tyke an
d didn’t seem to be afraid of other people, but after he had eaten, he was done for the day. He was cranky and flailing in my arms when I picked him up to go home.

  The day had been emotionally charged, and everyone was exhausted. It was nice that none of us had to think about making dinner and it was also nice that I had the next day off. Dave and I made the most of it after we got Noah and Amber to go to bed.

  Before I knew it, it was Monday. Dave and I were getting married. He got up to shower before heading for the café, and I got the kids up and dressed with a backpack of toys and a diaper bag for Noah. Then, I got ready for patrol. Sheriff Lassiter had already approved for me to take a long lunch. Georgia and Dave would close up the café after lunch and Karl would close shop at Ott’s Auto Repair for a few hours while Dave and I tied the knot. Grandma Betty planned on riding to the courthouse with Karl, and the kids would be with Georgia and Dave.

  In the courthouse lobby, Grandma Betty pinned red carnations to Dave’s jacket and my uniform.

  “I thought you need to look a little spiffy on your wedding day,” she said with a smile as she kissed each of our cheeks. “Now do you each have your rings?”

  “Yes, Grandma,” Dave said as he pulled his out of his pocket and I did the same to show her our rings.

  “And the license?” she asked.

  “Oh, got it,” Georgia said rifling through her purse. She pulled out the folded form and handed it to me.

  The court clerk came out to take us into Judge Lewis’ chambers, and I handed the clerk our license. She led us in to meet with the Judge. Georgia had Amber stand by her and held the little girl’s hand. Karl was holding Noah and standing beside Grandma Betty. The whole fam damily was there, and I was proud and happy. It didn’t take but four or five minutes for the Judge to pronounce us legally wed by the State of Wyoming. He told us to kiss to make it official. Judge Lewis was smiling and happy as he signed our marriage license.

  It was done. Dave and I were married. It somehow released a tension that I had built up inside of me, like maybe he would leave me or we would break up, but no, we were tied together now. Forever!

  Returning to the lobby, we were surprised by a group of friends and co-workers. Sheriff Jim, Josh, Andy, and some of the guys from the jail and from dispatch had walked over to throw rice at us. Noah and Amber were giggling in delight with the balloons that one of the dispatchers had brought over to the courthouse. It felt good to have so many people show their love and respect just by showing up. I could tell that Dave was happy as hell by the way he looked at me and kept holding my hand. However, it was soon over and all of us, except Grandma, had to return to work.

  Dave and I had lived together for a few months now, and I thought that maybe our relationship would change after we were married, but I wasn’t sure how it would change. Well, it changed for the better, that’s for sure. Not that it needed improvement, but I felt closer to Dave than ever before like we were one heart, one soul. We were more in love if that’s even possible.

  Over the ensuing weeks, Dave and Georgia worked with our attorney to get our adoption of Amber complete. We had sat down with the little girl and talked to her about us adopting her and Dave and I being her daddies for real. Amber said that it would be “real cool” to have two daddies, but she also said that it would be “real cool” to have Hello Kitty bed sheets. So, that’s the mind of a four-year-old.

  I had heard from Deputy Braydon that Jessica Deet’s had finally gone to a preliminary hearing on the drug charges for which I had arrested her and she was bound over for felony charges of possession with intent to deliver. Her trial was set for mid-March. She still hadn’t been able to bond out, thank God. The murder case on Eply was stalled while the prosecutor in West Virginia had warrants out for the arrest of Sonny Horton. I needed to interview Sonny to ask him what he knew about Jared Lambert being murdered. My working theory was that Sonny Horton and Cleetus Jones killed Lambert. I just didn’t know why. I assumed it was a drug deal gone bad, but that wouldn’t make sense because Lambert was muling for Eply. Sonny was the courier for the money. If Sonny wanted to steal the money or the drugs, he had every opportunity. No, it was something else. It wasn’t drugs or money.

  It was February 14th, when Dave received the call from our attorney. We had a court date in family court the next week in Sinclair on our adoption petition for Amber. I was assigned to work patrol in rotation with Deputy Luker. He would patrol one night, and I would patrol the next. On the days we weren’t doing patrol, we worked our cases, made phone calls, and went to court on our arrests, and then, work from home.

  One evening Dave came home all excited. “Nick,” he yelled from the front door as he came inside. That got the attention of Noah, who was in his bedroom with Amber playing.

  “Dada,” he screamed and went running to Dave. That made me laugh. The little boy was so happy to see him when he came home from the café. Dave picked him up and gave him loves.

  “Hi Daddy Dave,” Amber said as she ran behind Noah.

  “Well hello, how’s my big girl,” Dave said as she hugged his leg.

  “Nick, you’ll never guess, not in a million years. You’ll never guess who walked into the kitchen of the café this afternoon,” Dave said.

  I thought for a second and answered, “Berto Vasquez.”

  “You big poop. You ruined my surprise. How did you guess?” he said with a pouting lip.

  “Sorry. Let me try again. Gee, I don’t know, honey, who?” I said mockingly.

  “You’re still a big poop,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

  “Only logical answer. Nobody comes through the back door to the kitchen of the café except delivery drivers or family. You were so excited to tell me that it had to be family, and Berto is the only one who hasn’t been around for a while,” I said.

  “Brilliant, Sherlock,” Dave said.

  “I assume he snuck back across the border?” I asked.

  “Can’t say,” Dave said with that sly wink and smile of his.

  “Can’t say or won’t say?” I continued my questioning.

  “Won’t,” Dave answered. “You’re law enforcement. He had a green card, a social security card, and driver’s license. They looked legit to Mom and me.”

  “I wouldn’t turn in Berto. He is like family. Besides local law enforcement can’t enforce federal immigration law. Only the feds can do that. Did his wife and kids come back with him?” I asked.

  “No. He said he would have them come back after the springtime. It would be easier for his wife,” Dave answered.

  “I guess Georgia gave him back his job?” I asked.

  “Yes, so that gives me more time to be with Amber and Noah during the day. I’ll still fill in and give Mom a break during the day and cook a couple of days a week so Berto can have time off, but, just think, I’ll be home for you and the kids a lot more.”

  “That’s awesome, Dave. That makes me happy for you. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” I asked. “I don’t want you feeling like you’re becoming my house husband.”

  “I love that role, Nick. I love doing for you and the kids. It’s perfect,” Dave said.

  And it was perfect. Georgia was a lot more relaxed knowing that she had a backup and Dave was happier now that he could spend more at home with the kids and me. Our court date snuck up on us, and suddenly, it was the day we would make about our daughter. Since Child Protection Services had been checking on our home for Noah, our attorney had enlisted them as witnesses in our adoption case. Even though it was a family court, it was again, Judge Lewis who heard our case. After all, there were only two judges for the district.

  Amber was dressed in her best, pretty floral dress and blue leggings. She had chosen her outfit and had Grandma Georgia do her hair especially for the day. Dave had Noah dressed in a little white shirt with a plaid bow tie. Noah was growing so fast. He would soon be eighteen months old.

  Dave and I dressed in white shirts and ties for the occasion, and we met o
ur attorney in the lobby of the courthouse with the kids. Grandma Betty had driven over to Sinclair for moral support, but Georgia had stayed behind to run the café. CPS gave us a glowing report, and the Judge seemed pleased. He even talked to Amber for a few minutes and asked her if this was what she wanted.

  “Yes, sir. Daddy Dave and Papa Nick are the best daddies I could ever have,” she said, secure in her words.

  The hearing went as expected and Judge Lewis congratulated us on our adoption of Amber Weston-Sloan. Our life was set on its trajectory with only one hurdle yet to solve. What was to become of Noah? The longer he stayed with us, the more attached he got to Dave and me. It also worked the other way around. We were attached to little Noah.

  A couple of weeks had gone by, and finally, I received a subpoena to appear at the hearing for Jessica Deets-Lambert. The morning of the hearing, I met with the prosecutor and went over my file and my testimony to make sure we had our bases covered. When I went into the courtroom dressed in my Deputy uniform and service weapon at my side, I looked up to see Jessica watching me from behind the defendant’s desk. She was there with her public defender. Jessica was shackled and in handcuffs, wearing an orange jumpsuit. She smiled and gave me a quick wave. The attorneys went back to the judge’s chambers, and when they came back out, Jessica’s public defender whispered a few things to her. The prosecutor said nothing to me.

  The judge was announced, and he entered through a door behind his chair wearing his black robe. It was Judge McLeroy. He was known for being fair, but tough, especially when it came to drugs. Jessica had waived a jury trial. There would be a plea. Then the judge would hear any testimony the attorneys wanted to present, followed by a decision and a sentence.