by ANDREA SMITH
My mother had also given Trinity the caul that she'd preserved. She asked her to make sure that it was placed in the casket as well. She said that my mother had said she wanted something of me with her for eternity. Trinity told my mother she was taking her to a doctor she knew in nearby town the following morning. My mother had told her it was too late. She just wanted to go to sleep.
During the middle of the night, Matthew had come to Vidalia and was beating on the door of Trinity’s apartment. He claimed that my mother had been using drugs and that he was there to take her back to Baton Rouge for treatment. Trinity had told him that she felt my mother was ill and needed to go to a hospital first for a full assessment. She told Matthew she'd planned to take my mother to her doctor that morning. Matthew had told her to keep out of it; it was family business and she wasn't family.
He'd then pushed past Trinity. He went to the bedroom where my mother and I were sleeping. My mother was dead. I was still cradled within her cold arms.
Trinity had made it a point to travel to Mississippi prior to my mother’s burial. She'd arrived at the funeral parlor early that morning asking to see my mother. There was no visitation or funeral scheduled; only a graveside service. She'd quizzed the mortician at great length about the embalming. She explained she was my mother’s best friend and insisted they open the casket for her to view my mother.
When they'd finally opened the casket, she said they'd done a magnificent job with her. The mortician had commented to Trinity that he'd cried while preparing her for entombment. He said something wasn't right.
He told her maybe someday someone would want answers. He assured her my mother’s body was well preserved. He then left her alone to say goodbye to her dearest friend.
Trinity then carried out her promise to my mother. She'd placed the caul on her pillow and the metal box down underneath the satin coverlet at her feet. My mother had been entombed in the family crypt at a cemetery in Braxton, Mississippi.
The silence of our ride back to Baton Rouge was broken when my father spoke for the first time since we'd gotten into the limo.
“I can order an exhumation, Tylar. It's what needs to be done you know?"
“Will it be done for the purpose of opening the metal box?” I asked.
“Not entirely,” he answered.
I looked over at him as he continued.
“The metal box might very well contain evidence that'll help convict Matthew, but we also need forensic evidence. That type of evidence can only be gathered by having a forensic autopsy conducted.”
“Can they do that after all of this time?” I asked, astonished somewhat at the thought of it.
“Yes. Modern embalming methods and advances in forensic technology can help prove the exact cause of her death, even after all of this time. I want your approval, though. You're her next of kin.”
“You have it, Dad,” I replied, though I knew that in his judicial capacity he could've ordered it without my consent.
By the time we reached my father’s estate, Trey had arrived. I saw him coming down the stairway as we came into the entrance hall. I flew into his arms. Dad carried a sleepy Preston up from the limo. I took her from him and headed upstairs to our suite. Trey stayed downstairs talking with my father presumably about what we'd learned on our trip to Vidalia.
I changed Preston’s diaper and stretched out on the bed with her so that she could nurse comfortably. Trey joined me in the suite several minutes later. He sat down on the bed next to us.
“You’ve had quite a day,” he remarked.
I nodded not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd burst into tears at any moment.
“You know, sweetie, it's okay to feel emotional about this. You learned some very disturbing things today. That's why I'm here with you now. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I know, Trey,” I sobbed. “I just don’t want to think about what my mother endured because of me.”
“She loved you, sweetie. Would you've done any less for Preston?”
I looked down at my baby who'd fallen asleep cuddled against me. Trey lifted her from me and carried her into the adjoining nursery. He placed her in the crib and rejoined me on the bed, pulling me into his lap. He rested his chin on the top of my head; his strong arms were wrapped tightly around me
“Tell me what you’re feeling, baby?”
“I feel so many things, I guess. I feel sadness for the loss of my mother; I feel anger that Maggie didn’t do the one simple thing that my mother had asked her to do.”
“Anything else?”
Trey knew me so well.
“Okay, yes, there's something else. I feel sort of angry with my father. Why in the hell didn’t he check on her after he'd walked out? If he loved her, why didn’t he see that she was protected? My God, he knew the type of man Matthew was at that point.”
“Aren’t you a bit angry with your mother?” he asked quietly.
“Why would I be mad at her? She was the victim in all of this. I've no right to be angry with her.” The tears started rolling down my cheeks as I continued to deny any anger towards my mother.
“Tylar, you've a right to feel however you feel. Feelings are not right or wrong - they are what they are.”
He was rocking me gently back and forth in his arms. I knew that he understood me totally. I couldn’t deny those feelings to him any more than I could deny them to myself.
“Okay, yes then. I do feel angry with her. Why didn’t she go to my father? She'd be alive today if she'd done that. I just don’t get it. She died and left me with Maggie. It was wrong.”
Trey lifted me up and turned me around to face him. He gently brushed my tears away with his thumbs. He leaned over and kissed my cheeks and my nose. I looked up at him realizing that whatever pain I'd suffered along the way to finding Trey had been worth it.
He tilted my chin upward and kissed me warmly on my lips. I laced my arms around his neck and kissed him back loving the taste and feel of him. We nestled under the covers of the bed tossing our clothes to the floor. Trey made love to me slowly and sweetly in my father’s house.
I awoke from my nap feeling Trey’s arm wrapped around me and feeling someone’s eyes on me. It was Ms. Deeny. She was standing at the foot of the bed watching us. I had no clue as to how long she'd been there. She gave a slight smirk as she saw me looking at her.
“The judge sent me up to see if you and Mr. Sinclair will be joining him for dinner. It’s in ten minutes,” she said turning to leave. “Oh, I took the liberty of caring for your baby while you and Mr. Sinclair . . . slept.”
She was out the door. I threw the covers back rousting Trey. He had napped through the one-way conversation that had just taken place. “That gnarled up old bitch,” I hissed.
“Who?”
“Ms. Deeny, my dad’s head of staff. She was just in here watching us.” Trey was up and out of bed now putting his clothes back on. I headed into the bathroom to freshen up.
“What the hell? Are you talking about that short lady with the long nose?”
“Yes and apparently that long nose serves her nosiness well. She totally gives me the creeps. I hate the thought that she took Preston out of the nursery.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hurry up and get downstairs for dinner. I don’t like the idea of her being near the baby.”
“Tylar, your dad wouldn’t let anything happen to Preston. My God, he's totally infatuated with her.”
When we got downstairs, Preston was playing happily on a blanket on the floor with a multitude of toys strewn about. My father was on his phone with someone. She crawled over to Trey as soon as she saw him.
“Da-da-da-da,” she said tugging at his pant leg.
“Yes, sweetie,” he laughed, scooping her up and kissing her cheek. “Da-da has missed you.”
She snuggled up in his arms resting her head against his broad shoulder. How perfect they looked together. I looked at my fath
er as he continued talking in hushed tones to someone on the phone. He was a handsome man as well. I wondered what it would've been like growing up here with him.
He ended his phone call and stood up walking towards us.
“Dinner is being served now. Tylar, I hope you don’t mind but I fed Preston some of the pureed food you brought along. She's very fond of the green beans I discovered.”
Uh oh. I hope he didn’t give her the whole jar!
“Yes, Dad, that’s fine. What did you give her with the green beans?”
“Well, I had some of that pureed chicken, but she clamped her mouth shut when I offered that to her. She wanted nothing but those green beans; finished off the whole jar,” he replied chuckling. Trey and I exchanged glances. My father looked from one of us to the other.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“Your Honor, I think you'll be assigned diaper dirty for this evening.” We both snickered leaving Dad perplexed.
Trey put Preston in her high chair, and she was given a graham cracker and some sliced banana. She was getting pretty good with finger foods. Trey held my chair out for me as if he did this all of the time. He noted my look of surprise and gave me a dimpled grin. My father told us during dinner that he'd been in touch with the state officials in Mississippi as well as some judges he knew in that particular circuit court. He was expecting things to move quickly.
Towards the end of the meal, Ms. Deeny appeared in the formal dining room informing my father that an important call had come in from Judge Westfield out of Jackson, Mississippi. My father excused himself immediately to take the call. Ms. Deeny lingered in the dining room. She asked Trey if he needed anything else.
Midget bitch!
She took one of the cloth napkins and started wiping Preston’s face that was now smeared with mushed banana and soggy graham cracker crumbs. Preston didn’t like her touch. She turned her head away and started fussing.
“I can clean her up later, Ms. Deeny,” I said.
“No worries,” she replied continuing to wipe at Preston’s face. She clearly ignored the fact that it was pissing my baby off royally. “There now,” she said stepping back. “That's so much better isn’t it little Preston?”
Preston clutched another banana slice and pressed it up to her mouth ignoring the woman. My father came back into the room and thankfully Ms. Deeny took leave carrying some of the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
“The order of exhumation has been signed by Judge Westfield. It's scheduled for 1:00 pm tomorrow afternoon,” he announced.
From the kitchen we heard the sound of shattering china as it hit the floor.
CHAPTER 46
My father chartered a private plane to fly us from Baton Rouge to Jackson, Mississippi, the following day. Edie was to care for Preston while we were gone. I had a private conversation with her before we left, instructing her not to let Ms. Deeny anywhere near my daughter.
She'd nodded affirmatively and assured me not to worry. I kissed Preston goodbye telling her we would be back by dinnertime.
It was early December and there was definitely a chill in the air. I'd dressed in corduroy slacks with a bulky sweater and boots. The flight took about a half-hour. Once we landed at the small private airport, a limo was waiting to take us to the cemetery in Braxton which was a bit to the south of Jackson.
I curled up against Trey in the car as the limo made its way up the curving drive of the cemetery finally stopping just past a concrete mausoleum that had the name “Renaud” engraved on it.
The day was sunny and slightly breezy. There was a damp feel to the air. The trees were bare. Dried, dead leaves occasionally floated past us as we made our way to the mausoleum and the officials standing there. A black hearse was parked off to the side on another intersecting driveway.
My father presented the signed order to the deputy sheriff who was amongst the throng of people The deputy read through it and then handed it to a man I presumed to be the manager of the cemetery.
This man then instructed a couple of his workers to unlock the heavy, iron door to the mausoleum. Once opened, we stepped inside. There was a barred window on the other side of it that allowed sunlight to filter through. The flooring was concrete. There looked to be about six marble plates affixed to the fronts of the entombed caskets. Three rows of two.
My mother’s parents were entombed there, along with my Renaud great-grandparents. My mother’s casket was entombed on the end in the top row position.
Her marble memorial plate looked newer than the others. It simply had her name, birth and death year carved on it. It was nothing fancy. The unit below hers was empty.
The deputy sheriff observed as the cemetery technician used a special tool to break the seal around the door to my mother’s berth. I told Trey I needed to go back outside. The crowded mausoleum was getting to me; I was extremely claustrophobic and I needed fresh air.
“Are you okay?” he asked me as I sat down on a concrete bench outside of it.
“It's musty in there and crowded. I felt faint for a moment. I’m fine now.”
He sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close.
“Trey, why are we here?” I asked looking up at him.
I saw him furrow his brow in confusion. “It's customary for family members be present when a grave is disturbed,” he said.
“This is clearly something my father could've handled alone.”
Trey took my hand and studied me for a moment. “Don’t you want to see her?” he asked me gently. I looked at him aghast. It hadn't occurred to me that her casket would be opened until she got to the county coroner’s office for the forensic autopsy. I figured at that point the metal box would be removed and given to me or to my father.
“Are you serious? They're not going to open her casket here, are they? I don’t want to see my mother’s decomposed remains.” I was horrified that Trey had asked such a question.
“Tylar, I don’t think it's going to be as bad as all of that. Yes, they'll open the casket here to make sure it contains a body, first of all; and to establish the identity as being her.”
I turned from him thoroughly appalled at the idea of looking at my mother’s corpse.
“Tylar, no one's going to force you to look at her, but I just thought if you wanted to it might help you put some closure on things.”
By this time, the deputy and cemetery people had exited the mausoleum. The deputy was carrying a dark metal box that had a handle on it.
“They have to book that in as evidence, sweetie.”
My father was still inside with her. I didn’t budge. Trey remained next to me not saying anything further. It was several minutes later that my father emerged. He came over to where Trey and I were standing. His eyes were red. He'd been crying. It distressed me to see him like that.
“Tylar,” he said to me softly, “would you like to say good-bye to your mother? She looks beautiful.”
I stood up. My legs were wobbly. Everything had a surreal feeling to it. Trey was beside me, taking my arm. My father stayed outside as we made our way back inside the mausoleum. I saw the opened lid of the casket. It was the type that had two lids. Only the top one had been opened. Her casket was on a dolly of some sort so it could be wheeled outside to the waiting hearse. Trey held my hand as we walked to the side of it.
The first thing I saw was her hair. It was just like mine. It was cut in long layers that framed her face. As I looked at her I was amazed at how much I resembled her. It looked like me laying there asleep. She'd been buried in a red sweater dress. Her hands were clasped together resting on her stomach. I looked at the satin pillow where her head rested. I saw the caul that Trinity had spoken of. It looked like a thin nylon veil that'd been draped on the pillow next to her. Someone had placed a ragged teddy bear in the casket next to her. It might've been mine.
I felt the tears stream down my face. I'd no memory of her at all. She'd carried me, given birth to me, fed and nur
tured me, yet I had no memory of any of that. I'd been cheated out of a mother; she'd been cheated out of a life. Trey squeezed my hand gently. My sobs escaped as I looked at this beautiful creature that I'd never known.
“Mommy,” I sobbed, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "We'll make this right. I promise you that.” I leaned over and brushed a kiss against her hair. Trey enfolded me in his arms and led me outside once again.
My father was waiting in the limo for us. The deputy sheriff and the cemetery personnel wheeled the now closed casket out to the waiting hearse. She'd be taken to Jackson for the forensic autopsy.
Her body would then be placed back into her final resting place here. My father said that he would be back to ensure everything went as planned.
“When will we know about the contents of the metal box?” I asked.
“Once it's all been reviewed by the D.A’s office, anything that's not pertinent to her death will be released. Anything deemed pertinent as evidence will remain in custody with the authorities until such time as the case is resolved in criminal court.”
“How long could all of that take?”
“Tylar, don’t worry; I'll use any means possible to avoid dragging this out. I've scheduled a meeting with the D.A. day after tomorrow.”
I leaned against Trey in the car. “I want to go home, Trey.”
“We'll go home, baby; how about tomorrow?”
Trey booked our flight when we got back to my father’s estate. We had a late afternoon flight out of Baton Rouge. My father spent the evening playing with Preston while Trey and I relaxed in front of the massive fireplace.
The following morning Dad took us on a tour of the grounds. He had several thoroughbred horses stabled in his barn. “Do you ride?” he asked me.
“A little,” I replied smiling.
He had one of the hired hands saddle up two horses Trey had stayed behind with Preston. My father and I rode the trail that went the full perimeter of the estate. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I could tell my father had a passion for horses. He was an excellent English rider as well. Perhaps something else I'd inherited from him, I thought.