Heartless (22 page)

with you?"
"Yes. Maybe an audience will drive the point home."
The two girls entered the lobby where Sheena's visitor

fidgeted and stared out the double glass doors to the front of
the dormitory.
"Oh, my God!" gasped Sheena.
"Is that Parker?" asked Chelsea under her breath.
"Yes."
"How could you look at
anybody
else?"
Parker turned around, and Sheena ran into his arms.
Simultaneously, both said, "I'm sorry."
"Shh," said Parker. "I'm sorry. I came to make things right.
I was very jealous. I love you, Sheena. I'm not a billionaire. I'm
just me, but I love you." Parker reached into his pocket. "It's
not big and flashy, but it's from my heart." He opened the box
to reveal a third of a karat tiffany solitaire in white gold. "Will
you marry me?"
Sheena started crying. "I gave the coat to Goodwill."
"What?"
"I'm so sorry. I love you, Parker. I've been miserable
without you. Yes, I'll marry you. Put it on me."
Parker slipped the ring on Sheena's finger and kissed her
deeply and passionately. The door opened and Alex Burlington
came in.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed.
"Love, Alex," said Chelsea as she sidled to stand next to
Alex. "Get over it. Move on. Check the social register."
Sheena barely glanced at Alex. All she could see was
Parker. "When?" she asked.
"After we graduate, but no more dating."
"Agreed."
"This has been the test of a lifetime. I love you, Sheena.
You're all I want."
"I love you. Two and a half years is a long wait."
"We can do it, but I won't wait until I finish the police
academy. Let's get married the first weekend in June after we
graduate. I'll start the academy at the end of June."
"That's a date. Yes, we can do it. We're worth the wait."

After the first of the year, the society pages carried a
scandal in Vermont. Apparently, Alex Burlington, heir to the
Burlington fashion conglomerate had eloped with Elena
Tousseau, the butler's daughter whom he had known since
childhood. Sheena laughed as she read the story which implied
they had been in an on-again-off-again relationship for years.
She wondered how Anedra's social register was shaping up.
Perhaps the test of a lifetime would be that woman's
acceptance that her son did not love the social register, but
wanted to be loved by a real woman. Sheena sent up a silent
prayer on their behalf.

It was a perfect June afternoon. The sky was a brilliant azure
without a cloud to be seen, a flawless canopy for the occasion.
The gentle lemony fragrance of magnolias in full bloom wafted
on the soft breeze only to be broken by the equally intoxicating
aroma of gardenias and roses. There was no reason to decorate
further. Nature's beauty was enough. The gazebo and Larkin
Sloan Reynolds's garden were perfectly adorned by the hand of
God.

Parker Greg Reynolds, still thin at one-sixty and six feet,
bounced with excitement as he panned the sea of faces of his
family and friends. His father, Police Chief Raiford Michael
Reynolds, who stood beside him, put a steady hand on the
younger man's shoulder. Flanking him were his brother,
Christopher; his cousin, Patrick Gautier; Townes and Wesley
Johnson; and Pike Hilton—an afterthought, but Parker had to
have his first college roommate as a part of the celebration, so
Pike was asked to stand with the men. Behind him, Dupree
Parks sang the male part of "Leather and Lace" as the voice of
his wife, Lindsay, joined the duet with her contralto voice
meeting Dupree's tenor from the back of the gathered throng.
Parker smiled at the memory of a leather motorcycle jacket and
the first time he touched Sheena's lacy bra. He shook himself,
noting the beloved gray-haired minister, Reverend Paxton,
stood a few feet from him.

All the men wore the least formal black tux possible with
yellow rosebud boutonnières, except Parker. His tux was white
to symbolize purity and that he had waited for his true love. He
wore a yellow rosebud boutonnière because this woman was
also his best friend.

In the congregation sat all of his grandparents, Dorothy and
Albert Reynolds, Audrey and Walter Bertram, and Vivian and
Lester Godchaux.

Raiford Gautier and Christine Milovich Gautier, his uncle
and aunt, held hands like lovesick teenagers. Raif brought his
wife's hand to his lips. Parker smiled at the gesture of such
deep love. His uncle Sheldon Godchaux and his wife, Greta,
along with their three daughters, Wendy, Mindy, and Cindy,
were in attendance. He still didn't know them very well, but
they came from Texas for this occasion.

His stepmother, Larkin, sat serenely beside his mother, Mia
Godchaux, holding her hand. They were dressed exactly the
same in mint-green linen. The interloping prison guard sat
beside his mother, but at least she was there, and the guard
wore a suit rather than a uniform. Ray had pulled strings for the
third time to have Mia present at a major event in Parker's life.
Two events in one month had been difficult to arrange, but Ray
had done it. Mia had been at Parker's graduation from LSU just
three weeks earlier. Carol Johnson dressed in the same design
as the two mothers of the groom, except in a pastel-peach, sat
across the aisle and drummed her fingers nervously.

The love song ended. Lindsay Parks took a step toward the
gazebo between the two sets of white folding chairs as "The
Wedding March" struck its first chord. She wore a simple silk,
street-length pastel-yellow sundress and carried a single longstemmed white rose. Dixie Marchant-Hilton, looking every bit
the part of an attractive woman in a matching frock, walked
gracefully behind Lindsay. Courtney Reynolds, then Trista
Gautier, followed in identical apparel. Roxanne Parks, serving
as a junior bride's maid trailed her aunt. The very petite Tasha
Johnson came next in the same design in pastel blue. The maid
of honor had to stand out a bit. Next, almost-four-year-old
Cherie Reynolds and four-year-old Lucy Parks, in a sundresses
of white eyelet, dropped mixed flower petals. They were
accompanied by two-and-a-half-year-old Marley Parks walking
between them. In a toddler's black tux, he resembled a little
doll.

Finally, the music changed to "The Bridal Chorus." Sheena
Melora Johnson, on the arm of her father, Terry, took one step
forward as her college roommate, Chelsea Rizzio, serving as
her wedding planner, directed each person to begin the walk
down the aisle.

The crowd stood.
Terry Johnson was dashing at six-foot-two, a hundred
ninety pounds with blond wavy hair and dancing, mischievous
hazel eyes, but Parker only saw the woman he escorted.
Terry's daughter on his arm looked like a mystical, magical
wood nymph. Her golden curls fell over her shoulders and
hung to her lower back. Her emerald eyes sparkled with life
and joy. Her simple wedding garment of a strapless fitted satin
bodice adjoined to a silk skirt that clung alluringly to her hips
and draped whimsically to her calves added to her mystique.
Slim and not tall at sixty-four inches, she seemed to float on air
as she came forward. Her outfit, too, was white, befitting the
fact she had waited for her one true love.
The vows they spoke were tried and true, even antiquated
by some standards, but Parker and Sheena meant every word
they uttered. The reception afterward on the grounds of the
Reynolds's home was light and lively and full of joy.
Parker danced with his bride. Sheena danced with her
father while Parker approached the prison guard. He asked
meekly, "Let her dance with me, please—just one dance with
my mother." The guard hesitated.
Mia said softly, "I'm not gonna run away or hurt anybody,
Thompson. You know that." The guard relented, and Parker
spun his mother around the cleared area in the back yard. As
the music stopped, Mia touched Parker's cheek and breathed,
"You're the one good thing I ever did. I love you." Mia put her
hand in the guard's, and he clicked the cuff. She held her other
hand out to Larkin. "It's your turn. Thank you for everything,
Larkin. Perhaps you really are an angel." Then, Thompson
danced Mia back to the fringe of the crowd. Parker smiled at
the gesture.
Ray toasted his son and new daughter-in-law with an
Apache blessing that he read every morning on his coffee mug:

May the sun bring you new energy by day.
May the moon softly restore you by night.
May the rain wash away your worries.
May the breeze blow new strength into your being.
May you walk gently through the world and know its
beauty all the days of your life.

Then, Ray kissed Sheena on the cheek and embraced his
son. Ray felt Parker's hand in his. Looking at his hand, he
asked, "What the?"

Parker smiled innocently. "We never used them. We don't
need them now. Give them to Christopher." The proud father
discreetly placed the condoms in his pocket.

Celebration continued with much laughter and dancing.
Parker sighed with joy as he watched the prison guard actually
dance with his mother—after the simple waltz away from the
dance floor.
Is there something there?
He had to wonder.
It is,
after all, the same guard that has accompanied her each time
she's been allowed to leave the facility.

Townes Johnson leapt into the air to snag the garter as
Parker shot it over his shoulder. Then, Trista Gautier
practically tackled Courtney Reynolds to grab the bride's
bouquet of white and yellow roses.

Parker and Sheena Reynolds left for a true wedding night
and a Caribbean cruise. The gathering dispersed, feeling for
that moment in time all was right with the world. No one was
heartless; nay, all hearts were full.

Less than one year later very few people stood around
Larkin's fully-bloomed flower garden on a cloudless May
afternoon. Bees buzzed busily from bud to bud as butterflies
flitted from flower to flower and birds chirped peacefully in
nests. Reverend Paxton placed a comforting hand on Parker's
shoulder as the younger man held an onyx box. Parker looked
around at the small gathering. "Begin," he said to the old man
of God.

Reverend Paxton nodded. "Six years ago I never thought I'd
be standing here with this group." He met the eye of each
person present. "Mia Godchaux had so few who truly loved
her. The Reynolds family, the Gautier family, the Godchaux
family, the Bertrams, and you, Officer Thompson, are the only
evidence that she existed. Mia had a hard life, much of which
she brought upon herself. But in these last few years, I had a
number of opportunities to speak with her. She found a quiet
faith. Her proudest accomplishment she told me was her son,
Parker. I'm glad I was given the chance to know her. She made
me thankful for the blessings I've had. I want all those present
to take comfort in knowing that where Mia is now, there is no
more suffering. She is whole and happy. Would anyone like to
share a memory of her?"

Quiet sniffling lingered in the silence before one person
said, "I loved her."
All eyes turned toward a prison guard who unabashedly
wiped tears from his eyes.
"Me too," Parker said in a husky voice. "Thank you for
saying that. I'm glad my mother found some form of love
before she died."
Thompson nodded. "She just went to sleep. I'll miss her so
much."
"But she's free now," Larkin said softly.
"Truly free," Raiford Reynolds added. "And totally
forgiven, even by me." His voice caught on suppressed tears.
Parker nodded and took the top off the box. With a gentle
shake he turned the container upside-down and Mia
Godchaux's ashes fell free.
As the ashes tumbled toward the ground a summer breeze
picked up. Small whirlwinds of dust danced in different
directions. The tinkling of a multitude of different kinds of
wind chimes wafted from the house a short distance away.
Reverend Paxton said, "From dust we were created. To dust
we shall return. May the Lord bless and keep you as you go
forth from the place."
In a soulful a cappella rendition of "Amazing Grace"
Dupree Parks sent a freed spirit on its way.

Thedrizzle accentuated the melancholy that the sea of
mourners dressed in black felt. The eerie strains of the lone
bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace" sent chills down the crowds'
spines. Police Chief Raiford Reynolds rose and stood dutifully
behind the flag-draped coffin. He caressed the length of the
casket lovingly. He looked up at the faces looking at him. "I…I
can't do it, not this time." Ray sat down, unable to perform a
eulogy.

A handsome young rookie police officer left the place he
had been occupying with all the other uniformed police officers
and stood in the place Raiford Reynolds had vacated. He
looked at the faces in the throng.
Has it really only been a year
since most of these faces were laughing and smiling at
another gathering? It's true: People might miss a whole life,
but they never miss weddings or funerals.

The young man stroked the coffin as lovingly as the chief
had before he spoke strangled words. "Detective Christine
Milovich Gautier—what can we say about her? She was the
consummate detective, very good at what she did. She was a
wife whose heart belonged to only one. She was a mother,
always supportive, offering unflinching guidance. She was a
grandmother who doted on her little ones. She was a friend
who always spoke words of truth. She was an aunt who
accepted a displaced waif. She was strong and beautiful and
unique, a whimsical unicorn. She will be sorely missed."

Parker Reynolds caressed the casket again. "Aunt Chris, I
promise you justice will be served. I…
I
will find the heartless
coward who did this. I love you. I will see you again in the
presence of angels and our Savior. Until then, rest assured I
will do that which I have promised."

The twenty-one-gun salute shattered the silence and
startled the mourners. The sound would be heard again and
again…