I pushed against Trey, wanting him on his back. He complied. I knelt between his legs, spreading them with my hands as I took his erection into my mouth. I went from head to root, taking all of him into my mouth; my tongue swirled and around and around the length of him.
He moaned with pleasure; his hips gyrated against my mouth. His hands reached down, cupping my face between them. He wanted me on top. I complied. I climbed on top of him. He guided his shaft into me gently. He placed his other hand on the small of my back, lowering me down onto him.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, feeling his fullness within me.
“You like that, baby?” he asked, his lips finding mine.
“You know that I do, Trey,” I whispered against his lips.
“You know that it’s yours, baby,” he said, “Yours and only yours.”
He rocked me up and down; both of his hands now braced on my hips to allow him to rotate me in a back and forth motion as his thrusting increased.
“Baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, “No one has ever made me come like you do. No one ever could,” he said, his lips crushing mine as his thrusting increased steadily.
“I love you, Tylar; I never want to lose you.”
“You never will Trey; you're mine.”
Our orgasms came crashing down around us then; it was all about us and only us at that moment. It was about the love that we had for one another. We both cried out as we came at the same time. We laid there for several minutes, totally spent from our lovemaking. Trey kissed my lips, telling me how sweet I was and how much he loved me.
Afterwards, Trey wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up against his warm, naked body. From down the hallway, I heard Gina yell, ‘That’s not fair!’
Trey chuckled, pulling me close and we fell asleep.
The following morning, Trey walked me in to the terminal at the small private airport. The pilot was already there waiting for me in the lounge. Trey hugged and kissed me, telling me that he would be back to pick me up later that afternoon.
“I’ll be thinking about you,” he called after me, as I started to walk out the glass door that led to the tarmac.
“You better be,” I called back, waving to him.
My father was there waiting for me at the municipal airfield in Baton Rouge where we landed. It wasn't far from downtown Baton Rouge. He explained Matthew’s arraignment would be held in the 19th Judicial Court that was downtown. He said the proceeding itself wouldn't take long. He was interested in seeing Matthew again. My father made no secret of his contempt for the man. I was curious to see whether he looked familiar to me, after all these years.
The courthouse was similar to the one where my father sat the bench. He led me to the courtroom where the arraignment was to be held. We still had another forty-five minutes or so before the proceedings began. I needed a comfort break. I told my father I was going to find a restroom and would be back in a few.
Once out in the hallway, I saw signs for the restrooms. I was thankful the hallways in this courthouse didn't wind around like a maze like the other one had.
When I located the Ladies restroom, I noticed one of the stalls was already occupied. I took the empty one next to it. As I sat down to pee, I noticed the feet and ankles of whoever occupied the next stall. There was something very familiar about those…ankles. Then it came to me. Those were the same thick ankles that I recalled Ms. Deeny had. I tried to hurry my stream, but it did no good. The thick-ankled occupant in the next stall had finished up, flushed and left the restroom without washing her hands.
Eewwww . . .
I finished up, making sure that I washed my hands properly. That had been so weird. I was sure that there were other people with thick ankles like that in the greater Baton Rouge area.
When I returned to the courtroom, I saw my father talking to a man in a suit who was sitting at one of the front tables. I took a seat and my father returned several moments later.
“I just talked to the D.A.,” he said to me. “Apparently, Matthew's been uncooperative with his attorney. He won’t talk to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I’ve seen it done before many times. The accused is trying to appear as if he or she's not competent to stand trial for reasons of mental illness.”
“Do you think his attorney is coaching him to do that?”
“Not unless he's asking to be disbarred,” he replied. “Anyway, the attorney retained for him is from a respectable firm. I doubt very much that he would contrive such behavior as a defense.”
This should be interesting, I thought, as the courtroom started filling up. It was nearly 10:00 a.m. Trey and Tristan’s appointment was in another half hour. I pushed that from my mind.
The bailiff came out and called the court to order. Everyone stood up as the Honorable Judge Lance Pelletier took the bench. He instructed everyone to be seated.
The first case called was Matthew Renaud’s. A door on the left side of the court room opened and two deputies escorted a hand-cuffed and shackled man into the room. He was in typical prison garb.
I studied him carefully. I recognized him as the same man that had been at our home in Radcliff, Kentucky, all those years ago. It was the man from my first memory when I was on my swing set, the one who had yelled at Maggie referring to me as the ‘golden goose’ or some such name.
He was taken to the table where his defense attorney had risen, holding the chair next to him out so that Matthew could be seated. Matthew’s head turned, looking around the courtroom. For some reason, I hunkered down in my seat, not wanting him to recognize me. I realized I was being paranoid. I'd been five-years-old the last time he saw me.
“Are you alright?” my father whispered to me.
I nodded just as Matthew’s eyes found me and stopped looking anywhere else. His gaze rested on me and I saw a flicker of recognition pass over his face. I squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable with him staring at me. His lawyer nudged him and he reluctantly turned back around, lowering his head as if it was too heavy to hold up any longer.
The bailiff read all of the additional charges the grand jury had returned against Matthew. The judge was watching Matthew the whole time, studying his body language, I guessed. When the bailiff finished, the judge spoke.
“How does the defendant plead to all charges herein set forth?”
Matthew’s attorney rose from his seat. “Ted Presley for the defense, Your Honor, I'd like to enter a not guilty plea on behalf of my client to all charges.”
“Very well, Mr. Presley; the court will set the preliminary hearing for an expedited date, since your client is being held without bail,” the judge responded.
“Your Honor, if it pleases the court, the defense would ask to waive the pre-trial investigation and dispose of the preliminary hearing now, as my client is in dire need of psychiatric treatment which will further deteriorate by further delay.”
“Mr. Presley, I’m not a big fan of waiving any portion of the due process, in particular when there's a potential death penalty involved. The appellate courts are overwhelmed as it is. Counsel, please approach the bench.”
I watched as the D.A. and Matthew’s attorney went up to talk quietly to the judge.
“What's going on?” I whispered to my dad.
“The judge is going to force the due process to avoid costly appeals later. He's trying to ascertain why the defense would waive the pre-trial investigation prior to the preliminary hearing. The purpose of the preliminary hearing is to make sure that the evidence supports the charges brought against the defendant as recommended by the grand jury,” he whispered back to me.
Matthew was looking around the courtroom again. His eyes went past me this time, focusing on the back of the courtroom. He turned back around, burying his head into his cuffed hands. The lawyers were still talking quietly to the judge. The courtroom had become very quiet.
Suddenly, the quiet of the courtroom was interrupted by a man’s voice, singing. I realized tha
t the singing was coming from Matthew. He was singing that old lullaby very slowly and loudly.
"Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird; and if that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s going to buy you a diamond ring…”
The defense lawyer hurried over to Matthew’s side, prompting him to be quiet. He paid no attention to his attorney and continued to sing the lyrics even louder.
“If that diamond ring turns brass, Mama’s going to buy you a looking glass…If that looking glass gets broke; Mama’s going to buy--”
The judge rapped his gavel and shouted for the deputies to remove Matthew from the court room immediately. Matthew stopped singing as the deputies literally raised him up from his chair. He struggled against them; he whipped his head around as they were carrying him toward the door. His eyes found what they had been searching for.
“Mama,” he yelled, “Mama, am I still the sweetest baby in town?”
I turned quickly to see who the hell he was talking to; his mother had been my grandmother. She was dead. I looked through the crowd as the short, dark-haired woman watched them take Matthew out. Tears were streaming down the face of Karen Deeny. She fled the courtroom.
I heard my father beside me. “What the hell?”
I was in shock. What the hell was going on? My father took me by the arm and led me out of the court house.
“I don’t understand what that was all about,” I said to him, once we were outside.
“I'm in the dark as well,” he replied, clearly as perplexed as me.
“What happens now, Dad?”
“Obviously, I need to get some answers for both of us. As far as the preliminary hearing, I would suspect it'll be scheduled after the psych evaluation the judge will likely order for Matthew.”
“Do you think he was faking it?” I asked.
“Yes, but my opinion doesn’t matter. It's the opinion of the psychologists and psychiatrists that will carry the weight in court. The prosecution will have one assigned to him as will the defense; that in and of itself, will be a complicated mess.”
I knew my father was upset by what transpired in court. I also suspected he wondered now just how much his dead wife had been involved in the tangled web of lies and deceit. I questioned my own ancestors as to why Matthew had been passed off as my grandmother’s illegitimate child, adopted by my grandfather after they married. If anyone could find the truth, I knew my father would, no matter what it revealed.
We had lunch together and then he drove me to the private airport to catch my charter back to Atlanta. He pulled me to him giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“I'll talk to you very soon,” he promised. “Please give Preston a kiss from her grandpa?”
“I will, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, Tylar. Take care.”
Trey was waiting for me when I reached the terminal in Atlanta. I was never so happy to see his face in my life. What a bizarre day. I flew into his arms.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said.
“Is anything the matter?” I asked fearfully.
“No, sweetie, I was just wondering how things went.”
“I’m sorry, Trey, I had my phone on vibrate while I was in court and I forgot to turn it back on to sound.”
I filled Trey in on everything that had happened in court with Matthew. He was as shocked as I had been when I told him about Matthew calling Karen Deeny his mother.
“I bet your father was reeling,” he commented, opening the car door for me.
“That’s an understatement,” I replied.
“I think he's questioning his wife’s involvement in all of this.”
Trey got into the driver’s seat and turned to me. “I’m glad you’re home, baby.”
I looked at his sweet face and leaned over to kiss him. “How was your day? Did everything come out okay?”
He gave me his dimpled grin. “You're a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” he asked, laughing. “Everything went as planned,” he said, as we pulled out onto the highway.
We talked about our impending move as we headed back to the apartment. I was so looking forward to moving to the country and into our own home. Trey pulled his car into his space in the parking garage and shut the engine off. He turned to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me Gina is pregnant?” he asked, looking at me carefully.
Holy shit.
“Trey, I’m sorry, but Gina made me promise. She's my best friend. I had to respect her wishes on this.”
“I’m your husband, Tylar. I didn’t think we had secrets.”
“We don’t have secrets that affect each other. This wasn’t about you or me. This was about Gina and Tristan. It wasn’t my place to tell you if Gina didn’t want anyone else to know. How did you find out?”
“Tristan told me, of course. He's very proud of the fact.”
“He should be,” I replied. “Look, Trey, I know you don’t care for Gina, but she's like a sister to me, okay?”
“I get that, baby,” he said, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “To be honest, I’m kind of happy Preston will have a cousin close by.”
“Yeah? So am I,” I said.
When we got inside the apartment, Gina was playing with Preston in the living room. As soon as Preston saw me, she came crawling over to me saying ‘num-num.’
“She’s been ‘num-numming’ me all day,” Gina laughed. “How did it go?”
“I’ll let Trey fill you in on the drama,” I said, scooping Preston up to take her into our room. “Preston and I need our ‘girl time’ at the moment.”
I picked her up and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “That's from your grandpa,” I said.
We got comfortable on the bed and drifted off to sleep. Trey came into the room and pulled the quilt up around us. He climbed in next to me, wrapping an arm around me as he switched ESPN on the flat screen. He nuzzled the back of my neck with his warm lips. I got goose bumps and shivered.
“Are you cold, baby?” he asked softly, pulling me closer to him.
“I'm just fine,” I sighed. “I’m happy to be home with my family. Where’s Tristan?”
“He went to the club today after our appointment. Since Gina was here taking care of Preston, he's working until close at the restaurant. I've never seen Tristan so happy or in love. Who would've thought he and Gina would be a couple?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, “I kind of thought they might make a perfect couple. I think he totally gets her.”
“He's talking marriage, though; apparently, she wants to wait. That sounds kind of familiar.”
Deep down, I wondered if the real reason Gina was reluctant to marry Tristan right now was because of the slim chance of Ian being the father of her baby. I hoped she'd change her mind and tell Tristan. I knew he'd understand once she explained. He loved her.
I fell back asleep inside of Trey’s arms with Preston cuddled between us. When I awoke, it was after seven p.m. Preston and Trey were both gone. I got up and went to the bathroom, turning the shower on to warm up the water. I got clean underwear and my long silk nightgown out of my closet. I showered and got dressed in my nightgown, pulling my robe on over it. I blew my hair dry and applied some make-up. I wanted to have a romantic evening with my husband.
When I went out to the living room, I could hear Trey in the kitchen with Preston. I peeked around the corner and saw that he had been feeding her some pureed carrots. She kept putting her fingers in the dish and then sucking the carrots off of her fingers.
“Preston, come on sweetie. Please use the spoon for Daddy."
It was so cute. Trey was trying to teach her how to use her spoon. He held it to her and she clutched it in her little hand. “That’s right baby, now dip it into your bowl like Daddy showed you and get some of these yummy carrots on the spoon, okay?”
“Da-da-da-da,” she yammered, not really understanding what she was supposed to do.
“Yes, swe
etie, use your spoon for Daddy.” Preston dropped her spoon into the bowl of pureed carrots.
“Look, Preston,” Trey crooned to her encouragingly. “Hold the spoon in your hand like Daddy’s good girl." He again put the spoon into her tiny hand. "Now bring the spoon up to your mouth sweetie.”
Trey was imitating to her what to do with the spoon with his hand as if he had a spoon in it. She was watching him in awe with her big blue eyes. “See like this, Preston.”
She raised her spoon from the bowl and had managed to get some of the pureed carrots on it. She held it up, trying to get Trey to eat it.
“No, honey,” he said patiently, “put the spoon in Preston’s mouth.”
She squirmed in her chair and dropped the spoon onto her tray where it bounced and hit Trey’s shirt, splattering the carrots.
Uh oh.
“That’s okay, sweetie,” he said to her, leaning down and picking up the spoon.
By this time, Preston had spied me watching from around the corner of the kitchen. She started getting excited and squirming to get out of her high chair.
She knocked the little bowl of carrots off of the high chair as Trey was bent down cleaning up the floor. It hit his shoulder and splattered all over him and the floor.
Oops! Holy shit!
I backed out of the room, quickly making my way through the living room and back to the hall.
“Shit,” I heard Trey say.
Preston started fussing and whining and talking gibberish to Trey in a loud, unhappy tone. I came into the kitchen as if caught by surprise. “What happened in here?” I asked innocently.
“Oh, just a little training session that went wrong,” Trey laughed. “I need to change my shirt, Tylar. Can you take over?”
“Sure, sweetie,” I replied, smiling. I wiped up the mess on the floor and then got a clean wash cloth and cleaned up Preston’s face and fingers. I took her into the living room and got her settled in her play suite with some toys. I headed back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. I noticed something was in the oven. Trey came back in with a clean tee shirt on.
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 38