Baby Love (Baby #2)(116)

My father told us during dinner that he had 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 is 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 is 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, MS the following day. Edie was to care for Preston while we were gone. I had a private conversation with her before we left. I instructed her to not let Ms. Deeny anywhere near my daughter.

She had 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 had 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 upon 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 was 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 is customary for family members be present when a grave is disturbed," he said.

"This is clearly something my father could have 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 had not 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 are 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 is going to be as bad as all of that. Yes they will 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 is 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."