PART III - Chapter 49: ALL THAT'S LEFT BEHIND

 

 

Chapter 49

All That’s Left Behind

(Ó 2010)

 

Within an hour, Melonie, now seated in the large living room on the sofa, had composed herself. Her eldest daughter, Colleen, had come right over when Erica contacted her.

 

“I can’t believe it,” Melonie said for the fifth time, “after all this time, I just can’t believe this.” Colleen had just finished playing the news clip sent by her son for the third time. She then finally saved the news story to a file, shut the screen off, sat next to her mother and wrapped her arm around her shoulder.

 

“You remember me telling you about him, don’t you Col?” Melonie asked her daughter.

 

“Yeah Ma,” she answered, “but I was a teenager then. I told that story myself a few times myself over the years, but, I never thought, well, … you know?”

 

“And, it was just as my father told me.” Melonie said as she remembered, “Everything my Father said to me about it, it’s just as he said.”

 

“Well, how about filling us in on it?” Ruth blurted out. “You’ve had us in suspense now for over an hour Mel. C’mon! What the hell gives?”

 

“I’m sorry girls, please come sit. I’ll tell you everything.” Melonie told her friends.

 

“How well do you remember it Ma?” Colleen asked. “I mean it was what … Seventy years?!”

 

Melonie smiled at her daughter and replied, “I remember it like it was yesterday dear.” She then looked over to Erica and asked, “Erica dear. Would you please go into my large closet? In the large chest there on the floor, open it. Underneath most everything there you will find two books, they are my yearbooks from my high school days. Could you bring them both to me dear?”

 

“Sure Mrs. Church, as long as you don’t start without me.”

 

“I won’t honey.”

 

Erica quickly left the room, the others heard as she went to the closet and open the chest. They heard as she rummaged through the contents with some haste. Moments later she returned to the living room with two aged books, Melonie’s high school yearbooks from Ypsilanti High School. One from the class of 1968, the other 1969.

 

Melonie opened the book from 1968. She turned to a page filled with portraits of the students who where attending that year. She went to the section that showed the Junior class of that year and found the picture of Brent Michael Lyle. She laid the book down and pointed to it.

 

“That’s him.” She said. Everyone gathered around to look. As they did she opened the other yearbook to the section of the Senior class portraits. She turned to page that showed the Senior portrait of the young boy from so long ago and pointed to it. “And this is his senior picture.”

 

“Handsome guy.” Delores said.

 

“Yes,” Melonie agreed, “yes, he was.” She then reached for the 1968 yearbook, closed it, then reopened the cover. She pointed to a handwritten message there.

 

The ladies saw the note which said:

 

“Melly, one more year! And next year, PARIS! AND BEYOND! I Love You Baby! Brent.” Below that was a long line of X’s and O’s for kisses and hugs. Then a large scripted heart, with “B.L. + M.S. = True Love.”

 

“He never had the chance to sign my other one.” Melonie whispered to all of them.

 

Ruth then asked her friend in what was for her, an uncharacteristic calm tone, “So tell us Mel. Tell us what happened. Who was this guy?”

 

Melonie sighed, look to all her friends, and then began to tell her story.

 

“He was my first love, and my high school sweetheart. I met Brent on the first day of the eighth grade. We were new in town. Daddy worked at the auto plants and had moved us all out of Detroit when he got transferred to the factories around Ypsilanti, my hometown I guess you could call it. It wasn’t much of a town, but it was now home.

 

“When I started at my new school, my seat was right next to Brent. I noticed him right away, not because he was so handsome or anything like that, but because he looked so sad. It turned out that his mother had just passed away some months before. He looked so alone … so sad. So … I just started to talk to him. When I did, it seemed as if I was the first person to have spoken to him in a long time.

 

“We hit it off right away, we were practically inseparable. But, I also found out one reason why Brent was so sad. When his mother died, he was left alone with his father. His father was a vile man. A drunkard who beat on Brent a lot. When his mother died, Brent had to take on all her responsibilities that she had around the house. His father treated her just as bad. Brent would tell me that his father hated him.”

 

“What?” Ester asked, “How could a father hate his son?

 

“When that father has no reason to be a father.” Melonie answered. “You see Brent was a ‘surprise baby’, if it were not for the surprise of Brent, his father would never would have had been forced to marry his mother.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Ester said.

 

“Anyhow,” Melonie continued, “we were boyfriend/girlfriend through the eighth grade and all through high school. Brent and I even talked about getting married. He made plans for us. He was going to join the Marine Corps after high school and we would get married. He said that it would be hard in the beginning, but he would work on getting promoted, and I could get a job, we would live in the housing on the base, that he wanted to get us out of Ypsilanti, maybe we would be stationed in California or Florida, some place warm and beautiful.”

 

Ruth looked again to the note written in the yearbook and asked, “Mel, what does this mean? This ’next year, Paris’?”

 

“We were supposed to have gone to Europe together, on a trip with our senior class.” Melonie said bowing her head. “When we entered high school we learned about it. We made a pact that we were going to save all the money that we could throughout our high school years and go on that trip together.” A small smile came to her face, she raised her head, “We were going to have cheese, strawberries, and champagne at the Eiffel Tower.”

 

Melonie dropped her head again and stared at the floor, the room was silent for a moment. Then Delores asked, “So, what happened Melonie. Tell us, what’s behind this news story.”

 

Melonie raised her head, took a deep breath and continued.

 

“It was March of 1969. My school was on a spring break. My mother wanted to go visit her sister in Wisconsin, my Aunt Helen. We were going to drive to Milwaukee to Aunt Helen and Uncle Paul’s, spend the night, then drive up to a cabin further north. My father and Uncle Paul loved to go fishing, and they thought it would be nice to get some late winter, early spring fishing in.

 

“On the morning we left we met Brent for breakfast at a local waffle house in town. He couldn’t come with us. He had a job at a local gas station, plus the situation with his father.

 

“After breakfast, we went to the parking lot to say good-bye. You see, we were going to be gone for five days and I would not see Brent the entire time. He hugged me and kissed me good-bye. He told me he loved me and would see me soon, that ‘Wednesday will be here in no time’. I told him I loved him too, and that I would miss him and think about him the entire time. We then got into our car and left.

 

“That was the last time that I ever saw him or heard from him again, … until tonight.”

 

Quiet once again came to the room, then, everyone noticed when Ruth, who was always thought to be the toughest of “Hell’s Grannies”, was caught wiping a tear from her eye.

 

“Anyway,” Melonie continued, “Wednesday did come along. We left Milwaukee early that morning and got back home sometime past noon. I ran into the house, threw my suitcase on my bed, and ran to call Brent. I phoned his house, but there was no answer. I waited a few minutes and phoned again, but there was no answer. Daddy told me to wait a half hour, he might be in the shower or at the grocery store or something. So, I waited, called again … and still no answer.

 

“I tried one more time, this time I let the phone ring thirty five times … no answer. Daddy then said to try and call him at the gas station where he worked. So I did, and that’s where everything began to unravel. I spoke with his boss, a man named Gus, he told me that Brent had not showed up either Monday or Tuesday, he was off the weekend to work around his house. He was supposed to show up there today … but he didn’t.

 

“I asked Gus if he called Brent’s house. He told me he did, the day before, but there was no answer. I asked him if he ever thought of going over to Brent’s house to see why he didn’t show up to work. His answer summed it up. He said to me, ‘Aw honey, c’mon, you know what it’s like at that house … don’t cha?’

 

“Yes, I did. I knew exactly what it was like at that house. Brent’s father was a violent man whether he was drunk or not. He told me everything that went on there. I knew exactly what was going on, even though I had never been to his home. Brent would not let me ever come over there. ‘It’s no place for a lady,’ he said to me, ‘it was bad enough for Mama.’ Yes, I knew exactly what it was like in that house … and that’s when I started to get frightened.

 

“I went to Daddy, I told him that something’s wrong, and to please take me over to Brent’s. He tried to reassure me that everything is okay, that his father must have been on one of his usual binges. You see, Tom Lyle had a reputation in our town. Everyone knew about Tom Lyle, his drinking, his fighting, his car crashes, and above all, his bullying. He would become more violent with every drink he took. Daddy said he was just a coward, one of those ‘punks that become Superman after a few beers’. Brent had to live with that man … and his reputation.

 

“But, I kept telling Daddy that no, something was wrong, he didn’t show up for work, and he never would do that, not show up and at least phone his boss. I started to plead with Daddy to take me over there. He must have seen something in my face, because he went quiet for a second, stroked my hair and said, ‘Okay Kitten,’ that was his nickname for me, ‘let me get our coats, we’ll go over there.’

 

“I told Daddy that I hope there would be no fight over there with Tom Lyle. Daddy just said, ‘Tom Lyle better hope there will be no fight over there.’ My Daddy was a big and stocky, but a gentle man.

 

“We arrived at Brent’s house in no time, and when the car pulled into the driveway, I felt it. I felt something was very wrong, it was the quiet all around, something was wrong.

 

“Daddy said, ‘Well, looks like Tom’s not here, his truck’s gone.’ Daddy must have felt it too though, he told me to stay in the car and that he would go knock on the door. He went up to the house and did so. No one came. Daddy tried again, but nothing. He looked to me and signaled that he was going around the back and that I was to stay put. I saw him go around the side of the house. Soon, I heard him calling Brent’s name in the back yard. Moments later he came around the other side, looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Daddy came back to the car and told me that he was going to try the front door one more time, that if there was no answer, that he and I would drive over to the gas station to talk to Gus, and maybe even call the police, if I wanted.

 

“I said ‘Thank you Daddy, that would be fine.’ He gave me a smile and returned to the front door, knocked on it a little harder, and called Brent’s name a couple times. Still … no answer. Daddy started to come back to the car when he noticed that the curtains to the living room window were parted just a little. He motioned to me that he was going to go take a peek inside to see if he could see anything. I nodded ‘okay’ to him Now, there were these bushes all along the front window, and like I said, Daddy was a pretty big guy, and he had to maneuver himself between the bushes to get to the window. I remember that the bushes were still brown and bare from the winter.

 

“Finally, Daddy got through to the window and looked over to me. He bent down and looked inside. I remember how he moved around to see inside, looking to one side then the other, his big body moving to better position himself. Then … he froze … he didn’t move a muscle. I knew right then, at that very second, that my suspicions were confirmed, I knew right then, everything I felt was true, I knew then something was indeed definitely wrong.

 

“I then saw Daddy slowly stand up straight, even though the house was a few inches in front of him, he seemed to stare right through it, like it wasn’t there. I watched as he slowly bent down again and peered through the opening through the curtain. He then slowly stood up and walked away from the house and through the bushes … backwards … still looking to the house. When he turned in my direction I saw the expression of shock and deep concern on his face. He was like in a trance. He suddenly seemed to come back to reality, saw me and began to come back to the car with a quick pace.

 

“He got in the car and slammed the door, he told me that we were going over to the gas station to talk to Gus. I asked him what was wrong, what did he see? He just said, ‘I don’t know Kitten, please, you’re going to have to be patient, we have to go see Gus.’

 

“Daddy went right to the gas station, the fact that he was speeding to get there just made me believe even more that something was wrong. Daddy never drove over the speed limit. When we arrived at the gas station, Gus was there at the service desk. When Gus looked up at saw Daddy coming through the front door I saw a big smile come to his face, and I heard him say, ‘Hiya Bill! How was the fishing trip?’ Daddy shut the door behind him, but I could see them both talking to each other through the large front window. I saw Daddy talking to Gus, and as he was talking, I saw the big smile on Gus’s face suddenly disappear, and when I saw that, my heart started sinking.

 

“I then saw as Gus reached for the telephone and make a call. He and Daddy both spoke to whomever it was one the other end, when they were finished I saw Gus then go over to the service bay and shut the sliding doors down and locked them. He then return to the desk area, grabbed his coat, shut the lights off, and turned the sign in the window that said ‘CLOSED’. Daddy and he both stepped outside, and Gus locked the door. I heard him say to Daddy, ‘I’ll meet you back over there’, and Gus went to his truck.

 

“Daddy then came back to the car, he got inside and told me that he was taking me back home, and then he was going back to Brent’s. I told him no, I told him to please tell me what he saw, that I was going back to Brent’s with him.

 

“Daddy told me that he didn’t know what he saw. But I knew he was fibbing. He told me he and Gus called the police, that something strange was at the Lyle house, but I saw right through him, he was trying to protect me from what was really going on. I calmly pleaded with him to take me back to Brent’s with him. He finally gave in and told me that he would do so only if I promised to stay in the car. So … I promised him that I would.

 

“Soon, we were back at Brent’s house. Gus was there too, he got there a few minutes before we did and he was standing in the front yard. Daddy went to get out of the car to go wait for the police with him, before he got out he turned to me and said, ’Remember, your promise, stay right here.’ I told him I would and he went over to Gus and waited.

 

“It wasn’t a long wait, the first squad car was there in a matter of moments, soon followed by another. The officers got out of their cars and began talking to Daddy and Gus. Daddy led them up to the house and to the window where he was looking through before. The officers both took turns looking where Daddy told them too. Next thing I knew they all went to the front door. The top half if the door had small windows. One of the policemen took out his flashlight and broke one of the windows. He reached in and unlocked the door, motioned to Daddy and Gus to stay where they were. The police then opened the door and stepped inside.

 

“I watched as all four men reached up to cover the mouths and noses at the same time. I started crying. The two officers came back outside in a few seconds and called the others over, and that, was the beginning of all the chaos that was to follow.

 

“Daddy spoke with the officers for a second, he then turned to me and saw me, the look on his face, the look of having to tell your daughter terrible news. He started coming over to the car, he opened my door and knelt down beside me. He looked at me and I asked, ‘Daddy? Is it Brent? Is he okay?’ He looked at me and said, ‘It’s not Brent Kitten … no … but … it’s not good … in fact … it’s terrible.’

 

“I asked what it was then, and Daddy said, ‘It’s Tom Lyle … Kitten … he’s dead. It’s seems he’s been dead awhile … and it looks like there was a big fight in there … and …no one seems to know where Brent is.’

 

“I looked at Daddy in disbelief, I asked him, ‘They don’t think that … that Brent … that he … Daddy! No!’ I buried my face in my Daddy’s chest, I was screaming, and I was crying, Not Brent, not him, he couldn’t possibly have done such a horrible thing. Daddy held me until cried and screamed myself into exhaustion.

 

“The police interviewed Daddy and myself. They interviewed Gus as well. It turned out later that Gus was the last known person to ever see Brent. He had given him a ride home from work on the evening of the day we all left for Wisconsin.

 

“Daddy took me home and when we got there everyone we knew were there waiting for us. My best girlfriends were there trying to comfort me. My mother was crying, and Daddy? Well … he would go into their bedroom and cry. Mother and Daddy were very fond of Brent. Daddy and he grew very close, in fact the suit jacket and tie you see him wearing in his senior picture, Daddy lent that to him. Poor Brent, he had to pay for those portraits himself, and he had to have them taken in secret. We had ours both done the same day by the same photographer. Brent had to constantly hide any money that he made from his father, and hide any proof that he had any extra money to spend.

 

“The police looked for him everywhere, they had bulletins up for him at all the other police departments in Michigan. They even contacted his mother’s family on the reservation in South Dakota.”

 

“Excuse me? The reservation?” Erica asked inquisitively. “What do you mean by the reservation?”

 

“Brent’s mother,” Melonie answered, “she was, what was terribly referred to back in those days, a ‘half-breed’. She was half white, half Indian; American Indian, from the Sioux Nations. Her father was white, and her mother was a Sioux, a Lakota Sioux. She grew up on the reservation there in South Dakota. I remember, Brent, he was so proud of his Sioux heritage, it was the only heritage he would speak of. He completely disavowed any heritage that came from his fathers side.

 

“Some time later, I got in contact with his grandparents out there. They hadn’t seen him for some years, his father wouldn’t allow it after his mother died. They also had not heard a word from him, he never came to them for help. Brent had just …vanished.

 

“I remember though, of how he missed going to the ‘rez’ as he called it. He always told me of how beautiful it was, ‘a beautiful land that is occupied by a beautiful people’ he would always say. He would tell me that when we got married of how his first leave from the Marines would be spent by taking me there, of how his family there would just love me. He even planned further into the future by saying when he would retire from the Corps, of how we would both move there to live.”

 

Melonie stopped for a few moments, she was lost in her memories, she then came back from her thoughts, looked at the ladies, then continued.

 

“School for the rest of the that year was hell. I’m surprised I made it through, I was so sad, depressed, worried and lonely for Brent. My girlfriends convinced me to go on the senior trip with them anyway. My mother and Daddy insisted that I go too. Daddy said it would be good for me, he also said, ‘don’t let this chance go Kitten, look at me, I’ve never even seen the ocean.’ So, I went. My friends did their best to keep me cheerful. England was nice, so was Italy, but it was in France that I was depressed.

 

“Part of the pact I made with Brent was that he had to take French classes through high school with me, so he did. We were, as I said before, going to have a special time at the Eiffel Tower together, walk around Paris, and speak with the locals in their language. But … that dream was shattered.

 

“I remember the whole time though in France, I kept looking around, I felt like Brent would be there to surprise me. I kept looking around for him. Now it turns out … those feelings were not so far fetched.

 

“I did go to the Tower though, during some free time, by myself. I went up to the restaurant there one afternoon, and I ordered the cheeses with strawberries along with the champagne, and I spent the afternoon there, by myself looking out at the scenery, wishing he would appear somewhere.’

 

Melonie again drifted off in her memories for a moment, then snapped back.

 

“Then, we returned home,” she said as she went on, “and later that summer most of my friends were starting to leave Ypsilanti, for college, jobs, or even the military. Me? I got a job as a cashier at the local grocery store. I worked … then I came home … then went to work … then I came home. That’s how my life was for the next year and a half. I only went out with some girlfriends, and that was just to the movies or something like that. I never dated anyone. Stayed home most Friday and Saturday nights.

 

“Then, one Saturday night, I came home from working the late shift. It was around 10:30 and there was Daddy, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. Just the lights from the kitchen were on, not the TV or anything else.

 

“I said hello to him and he just raised his hand in a little wave. I asked him where Mother was, he told me that she was at the movies with a couple of her friends, he said that he told her to go for a ‘girls night out’ and that she should be home in about an hour.

 

“I looked at his face, he had a strange expression, and I asked if there was anything wrong. He said, ‘You tell me Kitten’. He stood up and went to the refrigerator, he reached up on top of it and pulled down a large manila envelope and handed it to me. ‘This came for you in the mail today.’ He said to me. I looked at it, it was from the Department of the Navy. I looked at the envelope, and then I looked at Daddy, he then asked ‘Are you planning on leaving us sweetie?’

 

“I just sighed, ‘Oh Daddy, I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused, I’m so mixed up, ever since it happened, I just … well … oh I don’t know. I saw this ad in on of the magazines at work, it was about the WAVES, so I sent the card in for the information, that’s all.’

 

“Daddy told me then to open up the envelope and sit down so that we can take a look at what they sent. Inside was an information magazine about the WAVES, along with the business card from a local recruiter. ‘Looks pretty interesting,’ Daddy kept saying.

 

“I agreed that it did, but I told Daddy that if it weren’t for the possibility of Brent coming back, that the thought of leaving always was pushed aside in my mind. I told him that ‘it seems like I’m looking for him all the time. I look down the street to see if he’s about to come around the corner, or at work to see if he’s standing in the parking lot. Every time that the phone rings, I think it might be him. I check the mail every day to see if he wrote. I keep writing his grandparents in South Dakota, they’ve heard nothing either.

 

“Then Daddy took my hands in his. I can still feel those big, strong, calloused hands of his around mine. The tone in his voice when he spoke was so sincere when he said to me, ‘Kitten, look at me. There are times when the hardest thing that a father has to do for his kids, is to tell them things that they just don’t want to hear.’

 

“I asked him what that would be. He looked into my eyes, and I saw his begin to fill with tears, his voice was slightly broken when he said, ‘Sweetie … he’s not ever coming back.’

 

“I just broke down and cried when I heard him say that. I cried out ‘Daddy!’ and buried my face in his chest. He put his arms around me and started to rock me back and forth like I was a little girl again. He said to me, “It’s okay Kitten, it’s okay, go ahead and cry. Listen to me sweetie, I got to know that boy pretty well over the years, and I miss him too. I was really fond of that boy. But sweetie, what he did … even though his father was lower than dirt … it was a terrible thing he did. But, that doesn’t make him evil. I would swear on a stack of Bibles that he did not do what he did on purpose, it was an accident or something. But he did what he did, and honey, if I know that boy at all, he didn’t run away because he was scared.’

 

“My head was still on his chest when I asked him what he meant. He said, ‘He didn’t run away because he was scared about what he had done sweetie. I believe, with all my heart, that he left … so that he could let you go.’

 

“I lifted my head up and looked at my father, he was nodding ‘yes’. He said, ‘Don’t you see Kitten, if he stayed, where would he be right now? In prison, that’s where. Could you live with that? What if he got a life sentence? Could you live your life driving down to Jackson once a month to visit him for just a few hours? Then there’s the worst case, what if he was on death row? Would you be able to handle it when the day came when they had to carry that out? If it weren’t that you were a fact in his life, he would have stayed. But he couldn’t bear seeing you like that, so … he left … and he let you go … and let go of all that’s left behind. He wants you to have a life, something that he would have taken from you if he stayed. He wants you to be happy … and … to find someone else who will give you what he can’t anymore. He wants you to live … and to go on with your life.

 

“I asked, ‘What should I do Daddy? What should I do?’ He reached over and picked up the Navy magazine, looked at it and said, ‘Kitten, come Monday, I think you should give these people a call.’

 

“I asked him if he were serious, and he said, ‘ Kitten, look at me, look at this place, the town we live in. Do you know where you will be ten years from now if you stay here? You’ll still be at that grocery store, only as the head cashier … maybe. There’s nothing here for you, and I want the best for you. I kick myself everyday for not doing better in school, I could have done better for myself and done a lot more for you and your brothers, had money for college, things like that. My job? Yeah, the pay is good and so are the benefits, but would you really want to work not knowing when the next layoff is from the company, or the next strike from the union is going to be? I love you very much too Kitten, and that means that I too have to let you go. Go on Melonie, call these people, get yourself out of here. Go out there and meet other people your age from other places. See if you can travel a little more. Go out there and live your life.’

 

“I looked at him for a moment, then a thought came to me, and I asked him, ‘But what if I go … and Brent does come back?’

 

“Daddy put his arms around me again and held my head to his chest and said, ‘If that happens honey, then I’ll send him to you, no matter what, I promise.’

 

“That night, I realized just how much I loved my father, it was our night, the one time with him that I always remember. I did what he said, I called the recruiter that Monday and I went down there that day. Next thing I know, I joined the Navy and I became a WAVE. I learned all my office and administration skills there. I got stationed for a couple of years in Japan, then Australia, and the last place I had duty was in New York.

 

“I remained somewhat in contact with Brent’s grandparents in those years. I remember one letter from his grandmother telling me of how she, every day, would go to the open fields, face in every direction, and ‘sing’ to the great spirits for her grandson. I understand that she did it until the day she died.

 

“While I was in New York, I met John, and he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I told him everything that happened, and he helped me to love again.” Melonie then wiped more tears from her eyes. “My God, do I miss him.”

 

The quiet returned to the room, no one had anything to say.

 

Melonie broke the silence by asking, “Well? Now what? I feel as if I have to do something.”

 

Ruth was quick with an answer, “I got it. Why don’t you go to France?”

 

“What?” Melonie exclaimed.

 

“You heard me, go to France. The news report said he died six months ago. Find out where he’s buried, and go visit his grave.”

 

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

 

“Why not?” asked Colleen. “I think that’s a wonderful idea Mom. We can all go as a family. It would be good for you … a closure. You carried this with you for seven decades. Seven decades! You have a chance to bring it to an end.”

 

“I’d feel sort of guilty though,” Melonie said, “I mean, think of you father. Me? Going all the way to France to see the grave of an old boyfriend?”

 

“Dad would make you go,” Colleen asked, “this boy, man, was a part of your life. Dad would be getting the arrangements done now.”

 

“Do you really think we should?”

 

“Yes mom, we should. In fact, I’m going to go on line right now to see if I can get a copy of the book he wrote.”

 

 

PART III - Chapter 48: ALL OVER THE NEWS

 

 

Chapter 48

All Over The News

(Ó 2010)

Late January, 2040

Boca Raton, Florida

 

When you would first see her, you would never guess that Melonie Church was eighty-eight years of age. Melonie had taken excellent care of herself with a proper diet and exercise since her early twenties, and her lifelong commitment to it has always paid off a thousand fold. First of all, she looked as if she were in her sixties, and if you ever saw how active she still is, you would declare she was even younger.

 

She walked independently without the assistance of a cane or walker, which was something she was always proud of. She resides in an up scale gated retirement community in Boca Raton, Florida and has so now for almost twenty-five years, since her late husband, John, and she moved there from upper New York State.

 

She is still as active as she ever was, and that also made her look younger. She still exercised everyday. She still had a sparkle in her hazel eyes, and they stood out with her once blond hair that was now a pure silver, however the natural wave it had since her youth never went away.

 

There was a main drive that went through the center of her gated community, connecting the east gate with the west. Outside the east gate there was a strip mall which had a drug store, grocery store, ice cream parlor, a diner, coffee house, along with some other various ethnic restaurants. Melonie still would walk the distance on the sidewalk whenever she needed “just a few things” from the stores. She refused to drive unnecessarily.

 

She was this way when playing golf also. She still played three times a week, and refused to use a golf cart.

 

It was still early in the evening, and Melonie was relaxing with her three best friends and “golfing buddies” Esther, Ruth, and Delores. Melonie had christened the four of them as “Hell’s Grannies”, after a skit she once saw as a young girl by her favorite comedy group, Monty Python’s Flying Circus. In Melonie’s home, on the screened in porch of her back yard, she had on the wall a framed poster of the famous English comedy group dressed in their costumes as “Hell’s Grannies”. The reason for this was that Esther, Ruth, and Delores were as active as she was, and would run circles around the other retirees who were twenty years younger than they.

 

The “Hell’s Grannies” had somewhat of a reputation all over their retirement community. Tonight for instance was their night together to play cards. However, while most men and women their age were content at playing bridge or cribbage, the “Hell’s Grannies” got together to play poker, blackjack, and Texas Hold-em. They played for cash and they played aggressively. Everyone in the community knew the risk of joining them in their card games, because they would then join forces to take the outsiders cash, then split the booty between the four of them.

 

The ladies were playing a hand of Five Card Draw outside in the screened-in porch of Melonie’s home. It was a warm Florida evening and the tropical breeze coming off from the Atlantic some five miles away made a relaxing noise through the palm trees. However, Melonie was at that moment far from feeling relaxed, because she had to use all her will to look calm and to do her best to not let on to the other ladies that at that moment she held three aces and two kings in her hand.

 

Delores had folded early, and after two bets and two raises, Esther then folded. It was now a two way battle between Melonie and Ruth, with two more match of the bets and two more raises. Right as Ruth said “call” the Internet phone began to ring. Melonie ignored it because she knew that Erica would answer it.

 

Erica was a live-in helper that Melonie and her family hired two years ago. She was a pretty blond girl of twenty and a junior at the nearby branch of the University of Miami. In exchange for a room, board and a cash salary, Erica had to help Melonie keep house, run errands, and basically be there for company and for any emergencies. Melonie loved Erica like a grand-daughter and liked the company of a young girl around. It was how she kept up with what was in for the latest trends, and Erica liked hearing stories of how life was back in the “old days.”

 

Melonie showed her full house to Ruth, and as the ladies gave out a small uproar, Melonie heard as Erica answered the internet phone. In a few seconds Erica was at the sliding door that led from the TV den to the porch to see as Melonie was sweeping seventy dollars worth of dollar bills and change towards her.

 

“Mrs. Church?” Erica said.

 

“Yes Erica dear,” she answered with a smile on her face as she organized her new found bounty, “what is it?”

 

“It’s your grandson in Michigan on the net phone for you.”

 

“Luke?” She asked in a surprised tone.

 

“Yes ma’am, do you want to take it here in the den?”

 

“Sure sweetie, besides I should let Ruth recover from the pounding I just gave her.” She said as she gave a snide smile towards Ruth, “Martini’s ladies?”

 

They all gave a combined “Yes”, and then stood from the table and entered the den. There was a bar directly from the door and Esther went there to make a round of martinis for the group.

 

The kitchen was also attached to the den where the counter top separated the den area from the it. On top of the counter was the internet phone. Melonie strolled to the counter and turned on the screen, there was the smiling face of her grandson Luke who lived in Michigan. Luke was now in his thirties and was an engineer with one of the major auto makers working on the Hydrogen powered automobiles.

 

“Hi ya Grandma!” Luke said as he saw the face of his grandmother appear on his screen in Michigan.

 

“Why Luke dear,” Melonie said as she stood at the counter, “this is such a nice surprise.” The other ladies sat at the bar chatting while Melonie had her visit. “What’s up with you honey? How’s Lauren and the boys?”

 

“Oh everyone’s just fine grandma.” He answered, then he suddenly had an expression of concern come over his face, “Listen grandma, something strange is going on up here and I want to ask you about a couple of things okay?”

 

“Something strange? Nobody is sick or anything?” She asked now concerned herself.

 

“No, no, Grandma. I’m sorry to scare ya, no nothing like that.” Luke said reassuring her, “It’s just something we all saw and heard about on the news tonight.”

 

“And what is that dear?”

 

“Grandma, what was your maiden name?” Luke asked inquisitively.

 

“My maiden name?” Melonie said with a puzzled tone and expression, “Why, my maiden name was Smedley sweetie.”

 

“It was Smedley?” He asked.

 

“Yes dear, Smedley.” She answered with a small laugh, “Horrid isn’t it? I hated it when I was a young girl. It sounded like a name you would give to a basset hound.”

 

She saw him give her back a smile, and then he turned to his wife who was off screen and she heard him say to her, “It was Smedley.” Then she heard Luke’s wife Lauren whisper the next question to him. He turned back to the screen and asked Melonie, “And you grew up in Ypsilanti?”

 

“Yes dear I did, but we all called it “Ypsi-tuckey” back then.” She said with another small laugh.

 

“You went to Ypsilanti High School then?” He asked quickly.

 

“Yes, dear. Ypsilanti High Braves.” She said with a smile, “Go Purple and Gold. I’m afraid though that I may be the only surviving member of the class of 1969 though.”

 

“1969!?” Luke said, then Melonie saw him speak to Lauren again saying, “She was in the class of 1969.”

 

“Luke dear,” Melonie said with a tone of puzzlement, “what is this all about?”

 

“Grandma, did you know a boy back then by the name of Brent?” Luke asked, and as he did he saw the smile on his grandmothers face immediately drop, and her hand came up to her throat. “What was the last name honey?” He asked his wife, “Lyle? Yes Lyle. Grandma, did you know a boy named Brent Lyle?”

 

Melonie gasped and brought both her hands to her mouth. She felt all the blood rush out from her head, and then fill in again. Luke now saw as his grandmothers eyes filled with tears and began to stream down her face. Esther, Delores, and Ruth now became quiet as they became aware of their friends distress. They watched as Melonie slumped onto a stool that was directly behind her. All three ladies came to her side. Erica, who was at that moment emptying the dishwasher, noticed that something was wrong and joined them.

 

“What’s the matter Mel?” Ruth asked, “Is some thing wrong?”

 

Melonie indeed knew Brent Lyle, it was the shock of someone else saying his name to her and speaking of him … after seventy years. “What is this about Luke?” She asked as her throat was tightening.

 

“Then you did know him?” He asked.

 

“Yes dear.” Melonie sniffed, “He was my first love, my high school sweetheart. What is it Luke? What is this all about?” She now started to cry.

 

“Grandma, then it is you they’re talking about on the news here.” Luke said, “Give me a couple of seconds, I’ll send this news report to you to see for yourself on your net phone.” Luke now saw as his grandmother was crying harder, “Is Erica around?”

 

“I’m right here Mr. Church!” Erica said as she started to hold Melonie to comfort her.

 

Luke saw Erica on his screen and said, “Erica, do me a favor and call my mom. Tell her to get over there.” He looked down and he then hit a button on his keyboard, “There Grandma, there, take a look at that.”

 

“I call her right now Mr. Church.” Erica then said. Luke saw her then step off-screen.

 

Esther, Ruth and Delores now gathered around their friend as on icon appeared on the screen of the net phone. Melonie’s hands were trembling so, that Ruth had to set up the computer phone to play the news story that Luke had just sent.

 

“What is it Mel? What is this?” Ruth asked.

 

“I don’t know yet,” she said, “go ahead, play it.”

 

Ruth then hit the proper commands to play the news story, all women now had their eyes glued to the small screen. When it first opened a blue page first came on showing the call letters for the News Channel in Detroit. Then two news anchors sitting at a desk appeared, a man and a woman. Below them were the words “70 YEAR OLD MURDER MYSTERY SOLVED?” They sat and watched the following:

 

MALE ANCHOR: “Good evening. A seventy year old murder mystery appears to have solved in the city of Ypsilanti tonight.”

 

FEMALE ANCHOR: “That’s right Larry, News Channel own Carol Cowan has the story of a mystery whose ending is as mysterious as it’s beginning. Carol?”

 

The screen now showed a red headed woman in her thirties standing outside of a building with a sign that said “CITY OF YPSILANTI POLICE” with the word “LIVE” in the upper left corner.

 

CAROL COWAN: “To say the word mysterious is a real understatement in this story Ann, but let me get you the details the best way that I can because this gets somewhat complicated. Ypsilanti Police chief Alice Driggs held a news conference this morning.”

 

The screen now showed a silver haired woman in a police uniform standing at a podium.

 

CAROL COWAN: “Chief Driggs announced that the 1969 murder of Thomas J. Lyle,” (an old picture of a heavyset man with his hair combed back with boot cut sideburns briefly was shown with the name ‘THOMAS LYLE’ at the bottom briefly appeared on the screen, Melonie gasped when she saw it.) “appears to have been solved. Chief Driggs reported that one week ago she received via messenger a package from Paris, France. Inside this package was,” (the screen now showed Carol Cowan holding up a book), “this book, titled ‘ON TWO FRONTS’. It was written by a Mr. Logan I. Morrow. There was also a typed twenty page letter from Mr. Morrow, where he states that he was really,” (Then the picture of a young man appeared, below it read the caption ‘BRENT MICHAEL LYLE’. Melonie let out a cry.), “Brent Michael Lyle, the son of Thomas Lyle, who in 1969 was the only suspect in the murder of his father.”

 

The screen then showed Chief Alice Driggs at the podium.

 

CHIEF DRIGGS: “In the statement Mr. Morrow confesses to be Brent Michael Lyle. Mr. Morrow, and just to keep this from getting confusing, we will keep referring to him as Mr. Morrow, admits to causing the death of his father, but states that it was in self defense. Mr. Morrow explains that he came home from his job, and upon his arrival home that his father was already at home and extremely intoxicated. Mr. Lyle, believed that his son may have had a large amount of money hidden in the home because of an upcoming high school senior trip that Mr. Morrow’s class was taking to Europe that year.”

 

Melonie continued to cry as she watched.

 

CHIEF DRIGGS: “When confronted by his father about this money, Mr. Morrow states that he would not admit that he did indeed have a large amount of money saved for this trip. Mr. Lyle then attacked his son, threatening to kill him if he did not produce the money. Mr. Morrow states that he was first attacked physically by his father, and Mr. Morrow then struck his father in order to keep him away. Mr. Lyle then produced an aluminum baseball bat that he had previously hidden behind a chair. Mr. Lyle swung the bat three times at Mr. Morrow, but missed. There was a struggle and Mr. Morrow struck his father, both men went to the floor and that is when Mr. Morrow says he lost all control, and struck his father repeatedly.”

 

The screen then showed Carol Cowen.

 

CAROL COWEN: “Chief Driggs then goes on to state that Thomas Lyle was an alcoholic and an abusive father. Old police records from that era show many run ins with police by Mr. Lyle due to his alcoholism. Chief Driggs went on to say that she personally investigated this series of events by looking at all the records, files, and accounts of the death of Thomas Lyle. And all statements from Mr. Morrow seem to collaborate with his version of the story.”

 

Melonie was now nodding “yes” with her hand covering her mouth with tears streaming down her face and over her fingers. The screen returned to show Alice Driggs.

 

CHIEF DRIGGS: “Mr. Lyle’s old toxicology report shows a large alcohol content, even for the length of time from his death, to when his body was discovered five days later. There were fourteen empty beer cans in the trash, and the baseball bat had only Mr. Lyle’s fingerprints on them.”

 

Then a voice of a reporter came from the back.

 

VOICE: “If it was self defense, then why did he choose to run?”

 

Melonie leaned forward to hear the answer.

 

CHIEF DRIGGS: “Mr. Morrow explains this. He states that you must realize that this was a different time, it was after all 1969. Mr. Morrow had just turned eighteen years of age. He just took the life his father. Mr. Morrow states , and these are his words, ‘I knew that I faced at least twenty years in prison for manslaughter alone, if I went to prison, I believed that I would die there. I had a girlfriend at that time, and I was planning to marry her. I knew that it would not be fair to her to have her wait for me to serve any amount of sentence. I knew that if I survived prison, that I would not have anything to offer her afterwards, and I believed that if I did indeed go to the state penitentiary in Jackson Michigan, that a boy my age would either end up dead, or have things done to him to make him wish he were. I could not put my girlfriend through any ordeal like that, so I decided that my best option for her and myself was for me to disappear completely.’”

 

The screen then went back to Carol Cowen.

 

CAROL COWAN: “And disappear he did. Within a couple of hours after causing the death of his father, Mr. Morrow left his home, entered Canada, traveled to Toronto, and there caught a flight to Paris, where once there, he then enlisted into the French Foreign Legion, where he served honorably for seventeen years with the elite Deep Reconnaissance Commandoes, achieving to the rank of Sergeant-Chef. After his discharge from the Legion he, and this is something rather ironic Ann and Larry, Mr. Morrow then served in the French National Police.”

 

VOICE OF ANN: “He was a police officer?!”

 

CAROL COWAN: “Precisely! He was with the department which dealt with organized crime and narcotics trafficking in France and Europe.”

 

VOICE OF LARRY: “Unbelievable.”

 

CAROL COWAN: “That also is an understatement Larry. The more I work on this story, the more twists come up. If you look at your screen now you will see an old archive film of the day Mr. Lyle’s body was discovered.”

 

The screen then showed and old news film from 1969, and when Melonie saw it, she let out a cry of, “Oh my God!” There was a black and white footage that showed Melonie at seventeen years of age, she was being held by her father, leaning against his car.

 

“My Lord!” Exclaimed Ruth, “Mel, is that you?” Melonie nodded “yes”.

 

CAROL COWAN: The young girl you see there was the girlfriend of Mr. Morrow. Her father was the one who called police that day that led to the discovery of the body of Thomas Lyle. In the statement that was sent to Chief Driggs, Mr. Morrow wrote an apology to her family.”

 

The screen then cut back to Alice Driggs, again Melonie and her friends leaned to hear the words.

 

CHIEF DRIGGS: “Mr. Morrow says, and again these are his words. ‘To the family of Melonie Smedley, I have no idea if she has ever mentioned me to any of you. If she has, I would like to apologize to all of you for any heartache and torment that my actions have caused her. I left my life there because I loved her, and I couldn’t ask her to go through the circumstances that I previously mentioned because of my actions. She was a beautiful girl, inside and out, who deserved a good life, and what I did destroyed any chance of me giving her one. I have always hoped that she had found a good man to make up for all the anguish that I had caused her. If she did, then he was a better man than I would ever be. I ask your forgiveness’.”

 

Chief Driggs was then seen wiping a tear from her eye. Melonie was now sobbing. The screen then went back to Carol Cowan.

 

CAROL COWAN: “This story is still developing Ann and Larry. Chief Driggs also informed us that another package from Mr. Morrow arrived at the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation in South Dakota. It turns out that Mr. Morrow had family there from his mother’s side. His mother died when he was very young and is in fact buried not too far from here in Ypsilanti. Apparently Mr. Morrow’s mother, Tara Lyle, was half Sioux Native American and Mr. Morrow has supplied funds to have his mothers remains exhumed and as he states, ‘returned to the land of our forefathers’.”

 

VOICE OF ANN: “Will there be any attempt to bring Mr. Morrow back to the United States Carol?”

 

CAROL COWAN: “Well that will be an impossibility Ann. Logan Morrow passed away some six months ago. These statements and books were sent here by his attorney in Paris, following Mr. Morrow’s instructions in his will.” Carol Cowan held up the book in her hand. “I was lucky enough to find a copy of Mr. Morrow’s book in the library at the University of Michigan. They have been kind enough to let be borrow it so that I can continue my research of this story. That’s it for now Ann and Larry. Back to you in the studio.”

 

The screen went back to Ann and Larry.

 

LARRY: “Unbelievable. We will of course keep you up to date on any developments to this amazing story. In other news tonight - - -”
 

The screen went blank. The only sound in the room was that of Melonie’s crying.

PART III - Chapter 47: THE CONCLUSION OF A LIFE

 

 

Chapter 47

The Conclusion of a Life

(Ó 2010)

 

Mid- Summer 2039

It all came to a conclusion one June morning in the small village southwest of Paris. Logan Ian Morrow, now eighty-eight years of age, awoke at his usual early hour. He awoke slowly, his consciousness fading into the morning from his sleep, first still with his eyes closed. The usual sounds of the morning coming into his ears as if someone was turning up the volume of the radio very slowly to a soft tolerable tone. First was the sound of the wind chimes from the backyard of the chalet, then the breeze around the house and through the trees, to lastly the birds singing their morning chorus.

 

Then he slowly opened his eyes to see the light of the morning filling his room. It seemed brighter than usual. He sat up, put his feet into his slippers, stood from his bed, and began to prepare for his day. His daily runs over the past few years had their distances shortened and even done now every other day. Long walks now replaced the days that he did not run, and now Logan would take an extra day off from them occasionally. This morning he decided that this would be one of those ’off days’, and he would do a bit more of his weightlifting later on that morning. Over the past few years, the amount of weight on his barbells had become somewhat lighter.

 

This morning Logan was feeling much different. This morning he was feeling a bit happier … more content … more at peace. He then stepped into his bathroom, showered, and shaved. Afterwards he dressed and then went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee. He smelled the aroma as it filled the kitchen while it brewed. While the coffee brewed on the stove percolator Logan stared out of the window, taken aback at how glorious the morning was. The sky an astonishing blue with just a few exceptionally white clouds passing overhead. The breeze through the trees was making the morning more peaceful and glorious with its unique sound. Logan was happy and he didn’t know why. His mood was particularly cheerful. He felt completely rested as if he just had the best night’s sleep of his life.

 

He poured both cups and walked to the kitchen table, placing Lily’s at her setting and then sitting down in his chair. Raising his cup, seeing the steam rising from the coffee, he held it up as if he were doing a toast in the direction of Lily’s chair and gave his usual morning greeting of, “Mornin‘ Lil girl.” Then, taking the first sip from his cup, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the morning noises. Separating them … the breeze through the trees … the bird’s morning calls … a rare automobile or bicycle going down the road in front of the chalet … the occasional creaking noise of the house as the wind pushed upon the walls outside.

 

He sat there for a few moments meditating on the morning when … a different noise was detected. It was soft and barely audible.
 

“- - - lo - - -gn - - -”

 

 

The instincts of the old Lakota turned Legionnaire kicked in. He focused on the sound … straining his ears … he thought he heard something different. The sound then came back … still very soft and barely audible.

 

 

“- - - it - - -ti - - - my - - - lv - - -”

 

Logan opened his eyes slowly. He then looked around a little languorously. Looking around believing that he had heard … something … something different. He closed his eyes and opened his senses to try to hear it again. He tried a few more times but then realized that time was going by, and that he had to go to the morning mass. He stood and placed his coffee cup in the sink, and then took the other outside to pour it into the soil of the rose bushes.

 

When he did step outside he noticed immediately how sweet and fresh the air was. He poured the coffee into the soil, and stood up and looked into the sky. Something is different. He felt it. It was such an astonishingly picturesque morning. Logan thought to himself that this is what heaven must be like. Just like this morning, all the time … this is what Lily must be existing in right now … at this very moment. He quickly then went back inside the kitchen to put Lily’s cup in the sink, and then get his sports jacket and rosary. He could not wait now to walk to the church and just take in the morning on the way there.

 

At eighty-eight years of age, Logan was still a very strong and virile looking man. Standing erect, still over six feet tall and broad shouldered, and he could walk with conviction, without the use of a cane or walker. The only thing that seemed to change on him was that his dark black hair was now silver. People would comment on what good health he seemed to be in. That he could still fight in the Legion if need be.

 

Logan was feeling strange warmth around not only him, but also going all the way through him. He felt great warmth around his right arm particularly. There was a presence with him. Something out of the ordinary.

 

He arrived at the church with five minutes to spare before the mass, and as always, would sit in the back pews. The priest gave a sermon on God’s forgiveness. On how His forgiveness is like any Father who loves His children. If you seek His forgiveness, you shall receive it if you are sincere in your beliefs.

 

After the mass, with the other parishioners gone, Logan took out his rosary, genuflected as he knelt, and began to pray. The rosary felt warm in his hands. As always slowly and methodically reciting the “Hail Mary’s”, “The Lord’s Prayer” and “The Act of Contrition”. Finishing, he genuflected, rose to his feet and walked to the end of the pew, knelt facing the alter, genuflected again, turned and walked towards the entrance. Before going outside, he dipped the fingers of his right hand into the bowl of holy water, and genuflected one last time.

 

The morning was still uniquely spectacular. Logan then began his walk east towards the center of the village; the strange but extremely calming warmth penetrating through him all the way to the crossroad, where he turned left and walked northward towards the cemetery for the final time. As he walked, four women who traveled all the way from Nova Scotia were sitting inside of Gerard’s Café to see for themselves the old Legionnaire that they had heard about doing his daily ritual to his long mourned beloved.

 

“Look, look, there he is.”

 

Silently, they followed him with their eyes, and their waiter assured him that yes, that was indeed the ‘Old Legionnaire’. They felt somewhat emotional; they could not believe that the story was actually true and that they were witnessing it for themselves. They were holding their breath, as if any noise they made would either disturb him or alert him to their undivided attention. They waited for him to pass, and then they went outside of Gerard’s to watch him make his way to the cemetery.

 

“He usually stays there anywhere for about and hour or so,” the waiter informed them, “rain or shine.” The women decided to wait around and watch Logan upon his return back to his home. They were going to take his picture from a distance to show all of their friends back in Canada, they also planed to take a picture of Lily’s resting place, to add to their discussions back home. This was a real life equivalent to all of the romance novels that they read in their book club, and they were part of the experience of it.

 

They stood watching Logan as he disappeared down the road and into the cemetery.

 

As he passed through the gate, the two young custodians who took over the care of the cemetery some years before greeted him. Albert was tall and lean with brown hair and brown eyes, and his co-worker Bernard, was a shorter but stocker man with short blond hair and looked as though he had the strength of a bull. Logan returned both their greetings as he strolled passed them. Like all before them, the custodians knew the story, and continued with the cordial attitude towards him as he took his usual seat at the bench at the foot of Lily’s grave.

 

“Morning Lil girl. My God, isn’t it a beautiful morning?” He asked to the picture of her on her grave marker, “I can’t remember seeing a morning like this in, well, I don’t know when.”

 

He sat there with his face towards the sky, feeling the concurrent cool of the breeze and the warmth of the sunshine. The wind through the leaves on the trees made him feel tranquil. The custodians walked past him as they went on with their morning duties. They walked quietly so as to not disturb Logan with his morning visit; they went to a grave that was about thirty feet to Logan’s right to work on a defective sprinkler. They knelt down with their tools to begin the repairs.

 

As Logan sat, the warmth that was going through him throughout the morning began to slowly increase. He began to feel euphoric, and the little aches and pains that his senior years had brought to him over time began to fade, until he felt for some strange reason, totally pain free. He felt somewhat intoxicated, and he felt himself separating from the reality around him. It was as if he were now inside some sort of bubble, the noises of the morning were pulling away from him, they were still there, but as if they were outside of the bubble and inside he was in a peaceful silence. He then felt like he was not alone inside this bubble, he felt a presence behind him. There then came warmth around his right arm.

 

“Logan.” Her voice said happily, “Logan, my sweet, it’s time to come with me.” He had heard her perfectly, with no effort whatsoever. He felt great warmth on his right shoulder and around his right bicep and down his forearm.

 

The two custodians were continuing with their work on the sprinkler head, they had it disassembled and were ready to start to replace the broken parts when Bernard looked over in Logan’s direction. He thought something looked a little strange and tapped his partner on the arm, put his fingers to his lips to keep him silent and then pointed in Logan’s direction.

 

Both watched the ‘Old Legionnaire’ as he stared straight ahead, he then started to slowly look to his right. He looked slightly over his shoulder as if someone was standing there and his eyes then moved as if someone had just sat down next to him. He took his left hand, placed it on his right forearm and slowly stroked and patted it. Then a smile comes to his face and he began to stand. This is when the custodians saw and heard something that was out of the ordinary. All of the years that they saw the Old Legionnaire, no matter if it was at the cemetery, or around in the small suburb, he was always speaking in French. This time however as he began to stand, he continued to have his eyes focused to spot on the bench next to him. He was halfway to standing when they heard him say loudly in English, with a distinct American accent:

 

“Lily! … My God! … How beautiful you are!”

Before he could stand fully erect, he legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed on top of Lily’s grave. The two custodians watched as he fell, they then immediately dropped what they were doing and ran to Logan’s side to help him.

 

“Msr. Morrow! Msr. Morrow! What is the matter sir! Msr. Morrow!” Bernard said shaking Logan’s shoulder slightly. He turned to his co-worker and said, “Go call for help! Now! Go!”

 

Albert ran to the office a short distance away where inside he grabbed the telephone to call for an ambulance and the police. He stood there with the receiver in his hand, looking out the window in the direction of his partner kneeling next to Logan. Seeing the beauty of the day and the whole panorama of the cemetery, Bernard with Logan in the foreground, with the entry gate in the back.

 

Bernard meanwhile was still kneeling next to Logan; he placed his fingers on Logan’s neck to check for his pulse, there was none. He knew right then that the Old Legionnaire was gone, his long heartbreaking mourning had finally come to an end. He looked down at the man, feeling sad for his passing, yet happy that he may now be at peace. He placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, and then looked up to Lily’s gravestone, at her picture engraved on the stone, and a smile came over his face. He stayed there, looking out at the front gate. He stayed there with Logan, then after some moments, he began to hear the sounds of the sirens in the distance.

PART III - Chapter 46: ROMANTIC STORIES

 

 

Chapter 46

Romantic Stories

(Ó 2010)

Late May 2017

Gerard’s Café

9:05 AM

Marianne Ristagno prided herself on being a free spirit and one who is completely in charge of her own life. Her parents both came from wealthy European families, her Italian father had met her French mother during a holiday in Monte Carlo, and she was the eldest of their three children, her being the only daughter. She grew among the wealthy, the famous, and among the old European aristocracies. And at the gentle age of ten, she began to gently rebel against this part of her way of life. She once stated to her parents that the habit of the constant crusade of trying to impress, out do, and even adhere to the unwritten rules of the upper classes was, “exhausting and boring”. That she now found all the people of the upper class to be, “Ill-educated, self-centered and shallow.”

 

She sat in the morning sunshine at her table that was next to the short stone wall that separated the outdoor dining area of Gerard’s Café from the sidewalk and the street. She is wearing a navy blue sun dress with white polka dots, a large brimmed white hat and designer sunglasses. She is a handsome woman in her early sixties, as well as her best friend of almost twenty years, Laura Hathaway, who sat opposite her at the same table.

 

Laura was wearing a solid pink sundress with white ties at the shoulders with dark designer sunglasses. In the year 1999 Laura had met Marianne while in Cyprus at an open art market. Marianne’s extroverted and outspoken personality is just what Laura had needed in her life since she left the United States in the year before. Laura was a sad and depressed woman at the time when she arrived in Europe after the ordeal of her divorce from her husband, and also leaving behind her then infamous son. It was Laura’s sad expression that Marianne first noticed, and she made it her duty to make sure that Laura Hathaway would be her friend and always laugh and be happy.

 

The one thing that she made Laura do after she met was to slightly change her appearance. Marianne took her to her orthodontist and had Laura put braces on her teeth to correct her overbite. “Believe me my dear, it is the only thing you will ever need, you have a perfect complexion and like me you look much younger than you are.” When the braces were finally removed, Laura herself could not believe the difference. She did look younger and prettier. Marianne would always take the credit for that.

 

Theirs is a wonderful friendship of two well to do single women. Laura’s wealth had recently had the chance of being increased with the death of her father back in the United States, leaving her a portion of his business, some forty auto dealerships in Illinois, Wisconsin and Indiana. She sold her portion of the business to her two siblings, and then divided all of the money from that portion to the victims that were still known to her from her notorious son Jared.

 

Both were very handsome women who seemed to never age, physically, mentally and even in their personalities. This combination would bring out a type of radiances from them both, and both women would have many suitors of all ages. However both women had sworn off marriage, they even made a pact with each other to never get married. Marianne was never married to begin with, and Laura would tell her the sad details of her own marriage with her husband Mitchell back in the United States.

 

Their waiter brought them the coffee that they ordered, he then took their breakfast order and when finished left the ladies to return to the kitchen. “My, it’s very busy here for someplace so far from the city.” Laura said, she then asked her friend, “Okay Marianne? What gives? Why did you make me wake up so early from my nice comfy hotel in Paris to come all the way out here? If I know you, it something you just have to show me.”

 

Marianne smiled and leaned over to her best friend and said, “Alright then Laura, you know me, so then you know how much I love romantic stories.”

 

“Love them? Lady you’ve always been a sucker for those schmaltzy movies and books. I wish the real thing would hit us once in a while.”

 

“Well that is it correct my dear friend, so then, how would you like it then for you to see a real one? A real romantic story, right here in the flesh.”

 

“What do you mean Marianne?”

 

Marianne seemed exited, as if she was about to be the first to tell Laura some juicy gossip, “While I was in Switzerland three weeks ago to visit my brother, his wife told me about this place and the man who lives here.”

 

“What man is that?”

 

“The man who lives here in this village, he’s known as ‘The Legionnaire’, he has lived here now for sixteen years, and I believe he had lived here before. Most everyone you see here now? There are here to see this man as he does his daily schedule.”

 

“What makes this man so famous that everyone here is just here to see him?” Laura asked.

 

“Ah, that is it my dear Laura, it is his story. It is so sad, but it is oh so very so romantic.” Marianne then picked up the napkin on the table, lifted her sunglasses and dabbed away the tears.

 

“Are you crying Marianne?”

 

“Yes, yes I am, and you will too when I tell you his story.” Marianne answered.

 

“Well please do, I’ve seen you with all your other crazy stories, but I’ve never seen you really get this emotional.”

 

Marianne dabbed her eyes one more time along with a gentle dab to her nose, she replaced her sunglasses, “He is called ‘Legionnaire’ because he served France in the Foreign Legion. When he finished with his duty in the Legion he became an officer with the French National Police. He was part of the Organized Crime and Narcotics Group. He did very dangerous work and had to deal with some of the most dangerous men in Europe. He was a very integral part of this group; he was responsible for stopping these very dangerous men. His identity was a state secret because of the danger. However, these criminals managed to plant their own men in the police department. They became police officers with the National Police just to find him. There were a couple attempts on his life; however he foiled those attempts himself.” Marianne then stopped to again wipe her tears. She was silent for a few seconds.

 

“Go on Marianne, then what happened?” Laura asked.

 

“He was like what you would call a ‘Superman’, but even Superman had a weakness, and these men in the underworld found out what his was.”

 

“And that was?”

 

“That was his wife, a woman he loved more than anything in the world. She was beautiful and I understand that she was a hairdresser in a salon in the boroughs where the homosexuals and lesbians live. When they married they both lived there in the borough because most of her friends are there. She then one day fell absolutely in love with a small little chalet here in this village and he purchased it for her. They lived here for a few years I understand.” Marianne stopped and cleared her throat, “However, someone in one of those crime families decided that if they would kill him finally, but in a different way. One day, two men waited for his wife outside of the salon where she worked. She left the salon one afternoon to get some tea. The two men followed her, accosted her and took her into the alleyway next to the salon, and stabbed her in her heart.” Marianne then began to cry, “It is said that her last words were of her calling his name.”

 

“Oh my Lord.” Laura said, and she to began to feel tightness in her throat as tears came to her eyes. “Then what happened?”

 

“He, well, he was completely destroyed.” Marianne continued, “I understand that he had to be sedated for some time. He could no longer perform his duties. That man, that poor brave man who faced enemies while in the Foreign Legion and some of the vilest men in France and Europe. Evil, notorious and disreputable men that he would fearlessly go after. That is what I heard about him the most, that he was completely and totally fearless.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“That is where it gets mysterious and clouded,” Marianne answered, “he just, well, disappeared. He left the village here in the middle of the night, had an attorney sell the little house. He just vanished from here for seven years. Then one day, sixteen years ago, he just reappeared here, out of thin air.”

 

“Oh my Lord, that is strange. Does anyone know where he went to?”

 

“Nobody seems to get that part straight.” Marianne answered, “Some say America or South America in French Guiana where he once lived. Some say Africa, some say he just wandered aimlessly, but he must have made some money somewhere because when he returned he bought back the little chalet back from the family that lived there. Gave them an excellent offer, he lives there now and the home is like a shrine to her.”

 

“Oh my, this is sad.”

 

“Oh yes, but that is not all you see since he’s been back, he never leaves here. He does not go on holiday or anything. I hear that the only time he left was during those Muslim riots in 2005. He returned to the borough where the salon is where his wife once worked. He stood out in front of the salon with a large stick, an ax handle I believe, protecting the salon and her friends that were inside.” She paused and cleared her throat, “He spends his days keeping the house that his wife loved maintained and every morning he goes to the church just west of here and goes to the morning mass.”

 

“Every morning?”

 

“Yes, and then after he is done with the mass, he comes this way,” she paused and pointed to the road beside them, “he comes from around that corner and passes right by this very table to make his way in that direction.” Marianne pointed northward up the cobblestone street.

 

Laura asked, “What is up there?”

 

“The cemetery where his beloved is buried,” Marianne said, “he has made a shrine to her there also. There is for her a large lavender colored monument, with her image engraved on it. He goes there every morning and sits there and speaks with her. He’ll be there for about one hour, maybe one hour and a half. Sometimes he brings her a rose from the bushes that she had planted herself at the house, and if he does, it is tied with a lavender ribbon.”

 

“What’s with the lavender?”

 

“Apparently that was her favorite color, and whenever he goes there, nobody else will go into the cemetery until he leaves, unless they are pay respects to their own loved ones of course. When he does leave, some of the people here will go over and visit her grave themselves. This all started about seven years ago, when he wrote a book about his life, here I have a copy of it for you.” Marianne then reached into her oversized purse and produced a copy of the book “ON TWO FRONTS” by Logan Ian Morrow, “It was just a local story at first then it began to spread all over the continent, this book seemed to start it all. Now all the romantics come here to see him.”

 

“This is a romantic story.” Laura said with amazement.

 

“And then there are the Legionnaires themselves.”

 

“What Legionnaires?”

 

“The Legionnaires who come to pay their respects to his wife.” Marianne said, “The Legionnaires read his book also, there is a whole chapter about his wife and what happened to her. Well, the Legion is known for its traditions so they made a new one, his wife, her name was Lillian, she well, became like the ‘official love’ of the Legion. There now is a place in every Legionnaires heart for this woman Lillian. They even have her portrait in many of the living quarters and lounges on Legion bases.” She then dabbed her eyes again, “You can always tell when a Legionnaire has visited her grave, the leave a pin of the seven flamed grenade, the symbol of the Legion, and it is pinned into a small piece of lavender colored ribbon. A Legionnaire will place this on her grave.”

 

Laura then sat up straight and began to fan herself with her hands, “Oh please stop Marianne or you’re going to make me cry right here. You know I hate to cry in public.” Then she noticed that that other patrons of the café began to stir and began to silence their conversations. Some in the back stood up and those closer to Marianne and Laura craned the necks. Laura herself then looked to the same direction as everyone else, to the south direction of the cobblestone street. There she saw a man who seemed to have just turned the corner and was walking towards them. He was wearing navy blue blazer, grey slacks, blue shirt with yellow tie. In his hand was a single rose. “Look Marianne,” she said to her friend, “I guess that must be him.”

 

Marianne turned in her chair and removed her sunglasses, “Oh yes, that it him.” She seemed to whisper in her excitement, “Look Laura, do you see it? Do you see the rose in his hand?”

 

Laura too then removed her sunglasses, “Yes, I see it.”

 

“And there, do you see it?” Marianne continued, “Do you see the ribbon? The lavender ribbon?”

 

“Yes,” Laura answered somberly, “I see the ribbon.”

 

The café became very quiet as ‘The Legionnaire’ made his way towards them. He walked on the sidewalk that was running right next to the short stonewall that Laura and Marianne sat next too. Mari became more excited and turned to Laura, “Oh Laura, he’s going to walk right past us. He’s going to be so close that I will be able to touch him.”

 

“Control yourself Marianne,” Laura whispered, “You’re acting like we were kids back at the New Kids on the Block concert.”

 

The closer ‘The Legionnaire’ came towards them, the quieter the patrons in the café became. ‘The Legionnaire’ walked in a slow yet confident stride, all the time averting his eyes from the patrons of Gerard’s. Closer he came to where Marianne and Laura sat. Both women had there eyes riveted to him. Soon he was thirty feet from them, then twenty. When he was just ten feet away he looked up to Marianne and Laura. He first looked to Marianne, and then to Laura. When he saw Laura he then suddenly made eye contact with her. He seemed to slow his pace and somehow seemed momentarily engrossed with Laura. However he kept eye contact right until he was just a few feet from her. Laura eyes also seemed bonded to his. He was almost at an arms length from her when he then closed his eyes and simultaneously dipped his head to her in greeting and acknowledgement. He then looked straight ahead northward and then walked right past them. Both Marianne and Laura turned their heads and watched as he walked past.

 

When he was about twenty feet past them Marianne said in her excited whisper, “He looked right at you Laura, it was like he was saying hello to you or something.”

 

“Yes, yes I saw that.” Laura answered then turned to watch as, unbeknownst to her, ‘The Legionnaire’, the man who stopped the evil of her only son so many years ago, continued with his morning trek northward to the final resting place of his beloved. When he disappeared she turned to Marianne and said, “I felt so strange when he looked at me.”

 

“Isn’t that just like you Laura, you always have to let me know when the handsome men are only looking at you.” Marianne said sarcastically.

 

A sardonic smile came to Laura’s face and she then said, “Well, he was looking at only me.” With that both women began to laugh. “What else happens after this Marianne?”

 

“He will sit at her grave, like I said one hour to an hour and a half. He will then come back down this street to go back to his home. He will then spend his day keeping the chalet maintained and then he comes out to visit all the shop owners, maybe even go to the taverns and visit with the locals here, watch the football matches. However, he may even go back to his wife’s resting place one more time.”

 

“So this is how he spends his days?” Laura asked.

 

“Yes, I understand that he holds himself totally responsible for her death, he blames himself totally.”

 

“What an awful way to live.” Laura said sadly, “When did it happen? His wife, When did she die?”

 

“She died in 1993.” Marianne sighed.

 

“1993,” Laura exclaimed, “you mean he’s lived like this for twenty-five years?”

 

“Yes, twenty-five years he has lived with his guilt, with him blaming himself for what happened to her. I heard that he believes that if it was not for the fact that he was with the police doing what he done, she would be alive today. As I said he totally blames himself for her death.”

 

Laura shook her head slightly and said, “Then that means that he returned here to live at do the things he does, keeping up their home and her gravesite. That means that all he is doing here then is just … waiting for the day he himself dies.”

 

“Exactly my friend.”

 

“My, how he must have loved her so,” Laura said with tears welling in her eyes, “you’re right Marianne; this is a real true romantic story in the flesh.

 

“Yes it is my dear, but I must correct you, it is not ‘loved’ as you say in the past tense, you mean ‘loves’ her so. He still loves her so.” Both ladies then sat down at their table as their waiter had then brought them their breakfast. “I tell you what Laura dear, when he returns from her grave, let’s go there ourselves and visit her.”

 

“Yes Marianne, yes, I do believe that I would like to see that.”