Redemption(29)

I didn’t ask questions when he led me to a limo that was not the one Matt and I had arrived in. I accepted his generosity without hesitation and prayed he wasn’t leading me astray.

The door beside me opened, and another man, one I didn’t recognize, slid next to me on the seat and sealed us in. I stared at him but didn’t speak. With no idea who he might be, I was afraid of him.

“Melissa, I’m Bart Newman. The Director here. Given the nature of the circumstances, I wanted to ensure you were taken care of. I’m sure grieving publicly is difficult, so I hope this provides some level of privacy. The driver will deliver you home whenever you’re ready to leave the grave site, but there’s no rush. Take the time you need. The priest will stay as long as you’d like him there as well.”

I wasn’t sure I could manage words. “Thank you.” My voice cracked, and tears fell. This man would never know the gift he’d just given me, one I didn’t deserve. He’d had mercy when everyone else sought justice, and I’d forever be grateful.

I watched from the limo while my friends and family said their final goodbyes. They’d lingered for a bit afterward, but most drifted off shortly after the priest’s final prayer. Matt never looked for me, and I didn’t notice that anyone else did either. The people seemed content to wipe me away from their lives without thought. When the last car pulled off, I stepped out of my hiding place. I’d removed my pantyhose and heels while I waited, and left the hat and scarf behind as well. There was no one here, no one left to disrupt my time. The media had drifted off with the others, and all that remained was a middle-aged man holding a bible seated in a white folding chair at the far end of the first row.

The seats looked so desolate without anyone in them, but the casket was a far worse sight than empty chairs. My long hair waved in the wind as I approached. The sun reflecting off it, shining as though it were a beautiful day not one filled with grief and loss. I found myself directly in front of the beautiful, black box and sat, staring at its finality, the significance of this time and place. I didn’t sit on a chair. Instead, I kneeled on the freshly turned dirt, resting my bottom on my calves, my feet crossed at the ankles. My fingers traced the details of the coffin as though it were his face, trying to comfort him one final time. I’d failed him. He’d paid the ultimate price for my negligence. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my forehead to the ebony woodwork in front of me. Maybe Joshua could hear my thoughts, sense my sorrow. I hoped with everything in me, God allowed him to see my regret and shame, to know how much I loved him, even when I’d failed to protect him.

At some point, the priest moved near me and rested his hand on my back while squatting beside me. I gave in to the words of his supplication, hoping his sovereign God had not forsaken me and would protect Joshua. The whispered words of his prayer were the sweetest lullaby ever said. For just a moment, he’d calmed my aching soul, soothed my savage, inner demons, and showed me there were still those who hadn’t condemned me.

“He paid for your sins, so you don’t have to. While your heart sobs in pain, your heavenly Father awaits you—to comfort you, to forgive you.”

The priest didn’t say anything else, and I never spoke a word. Just before he walked away, he tucked the most beautiful set of rosary beads into my clenched fist. The intricate cross that dangled from the end caught my attention, and I held on to that string of jewels like they were Joshua himself. When I finally had the strength to walk away, I noticed the man was still there, yards away, but waiting for me, patiently. I didn’t get the impression he would come to me again unless I asked. Instead, I turned into the breeze, so my hair blew behind me and lifted the gift in the air for him to see before clutching it to my heart in a silent thank you. He nodded as though he understood and watched me leave.

The driver opened the door to the limo and helped me inside before assuming his seat behind the wheel to deliver me to my destination. I was grateful to find an empty house when I got there. I sat in the guest room on the edge of the bed, worrying each bead, saying the long-forgotten Hail Mary’s of my youth. When I could barely hold my eyes open, I went to the master bedroom to retrieve my jewelry box from the closet. The mahogany chest was large but contained very little jewelry. There were only a couple pieces I treasured, all from my great-grandmother who’d passed away in my teens. Everything else was simply a precious memento. I emptied the contents of a little blue velvet bag, and neatly tucked the rosary inside. I returned the jewelry box to the dresser in the room that was now mine and shed my clothes.

I had no idea where Matt was, nor when he’d be home. But I was sure once he got here, he’d find his way into this bed for carnal comfort. It was easier to shed my clothes now, which I did. I crawled under the covers and let sleep take me away.

Matt joined me around midnight and took what he needed. He’d always equated sex with love, and I knew this was his way of apologizing for slapping me, but it did the opposite. Instead of us making love, I had become an object he was trying to force himself to care for because he always had in the past.



*

The next morning, I received the call. The District Attorney formally charged me with manslaughter. The state of Texas didn’t differentiate between that and involuntary. They’d graciously waited until after the funeral since I hadn’t been considered a flight risk, but the autopsy had revealed exactly what I knew it would. Matt had been there when I got the call and stood waiting for me to hang up.