They were interrupted by a car honking outside. Janice and Cathy rushed to the door and the bride gave a gasp of surprise. Instead of the taxis they'd ordered, there were two vintage white Jaguars decked with ribbons and tiny bridal dolls attached to the hood.
A man dressed in a dark suit and silver tie stepped out of the front car and approached.
"Dad!"
"Ordinary cars aren't good enough for my daughter," Ludlow said without even a smile. "My little girl has grown into a beautiful woman and bride."
"Oh Dad." Janice sniffed and found her father's arms around her. "Thank you for coming."
The farmer gave an embarrassed cough and held his daughter out so he could see the long white bridal gown. He blinked and Janice noticed two small tears in his eyes. "Dear God, Janice. You look just like your mother on the day I married her, so beautiful and delicate."
"Dad, you noticed. My dress is designed from an old photograph of your wedding. It's a duplicate of Mom's."
"If only she could be here." Ludlow sighed and blew his nose. He turned and spied the teenager waiting on the path. "And this glorious bridesmaid must be Cathy. You're not that scrawny kid I remember anymore, are you?"
"No, I guess not, Mr. Ludlow," Cathy said shyly.
Richard Ludlow broke into a smile and glanced at his watch. "Well, ladies shall we go? I believe a nervous young man is waiting at the church." He held the door open and offered a hand to his daughter who took it and stepped into the front Jaguar.
Cathy grinned at her mother and stepped into the second car. "See you at the church, Mum."
*
In the days that followed the wedding, Richard Ludlow became a regular visitor to their farm...except on Sundays
"I guess Dad can't change his beliefs, entirely," Janice said. "But six days a week is something I'd never have dreamt possible." She fixed her eyes on her friend. "That must have been some speech you gave him that day we visited, Lavina."
"Not really. He was struggling with his own emotions. It was when I saw that latest photograph of you on the mantelpiece, I realized his stern, uncompromising exterior was a facade." She laughed. "I also quoted a bit about religion including forgiveness. He knew you had that abortion, you know."
Janice gasped. "He did?"
Lavina nodded.
"Then he has changed. I thought if he discovered that, I'd be a murderer in his eyes for eternity."
"He never stopped loving you, Janice. It was only his pride and stern beliefs that stopped him from expressing it."
*
Both Lavina and Janice were witnesses when Nancy Morrow's murder trial was held three weeks before Christmas. After much apprehension, Lavina found that her time on the stand during the third day was surprisingly short. She was asked about the abduction, her relationship with Grant and repeated what was said in her interview with Nancy in the prison. As the police had suspected, none of the secret voice or video recordings were permitted at the trial so it was really her word against Nancy's.
The witnesses came and went with two conflicting accounts on the cause of the Cessna crash presented. Next, photographs of the fingerprints the police had lifted from the wreckage were displayed and proved to be those of the defendant.
Morrow's defence lawyer, Sandra Friedman, addressed the bench. "I'd now like to call Nancy Morrow to the stand, Your Honour."
Nancy, looking frailer than ever, flinched as she waited for the questioning to begin. She looked physically and emotionally exhausted but over the next four hours made a remarkably good account of herself. The lawyer included questions about both of Nancy's failed marriages and the recent split from her present husband. The reasons for her latest contact with Ryland were also brought out in considerable detail. This was allowed, as Morrow had pleaded guilty at an earlier trial to her involvement in stealing the Rubens painting.
"There are just a couple more points, Nancy," Friedman continued after a two-hour lunch break. "You stated earlier you had hired your former husband to hide the Rubens painting and that was the reason for you visiting his ranch. On the Thursday before his death when you visited him to discuss flying the painting back to Auckland, was he working on the aircraft?"
"Yes," Morrow muttered. Her eyes were downcast.
"So how did your fingerprints get on the engine cowling?"
Morrow glanced up and fixed her eyes on the jury. "Grant had the cowling open and was adjusting something in the engine when I arrived. I remember him muttering that it was due for an overhaul. When he went to close the cowling he asked me to help. I reached up and clamped the forward section down."
"I see. And that was on Thursday?"
"Yes. Lavina always went to town on that day of the week so I knew she wouldn't be home."
"And that was the last time you were near the aircraft?"
"Yes."
"And did you see your former husband after that Thursday?"
"No, I never saw him again." Morrow's voice was much stronger. "It wasn't until the following week I'd heard about the Cessna crash and his death."
"Thank you, Nancy." The lawyer turned to the Crown Prosecutor. "Your witness," she said.
Crown Prosecutor Clive Clarke, was a serious faced, middle-aged man who rose and waited for a full minute before strolling slowly across the courtroom.
"There were no other witnesses there on the day your fingerprints were deposited on the engine cowling, Mrs. Morrow?"
"No, none."
"I see. So we only have your words with no supporting evidence of what happened at that time."
"Yes." Morrow replied.
Clive glared at the defendant, switched his gaze across to the jury before he turned back to ask the next question.
"Earlier you stated the conversation you had with Mrs. Lavina Garnet in the prison was a fabrication."
"That's correct. We barely mentioned the Cessna crash or Grant for that matter. Lavina was more concerned about her daughter's injuries."
"So the jury should believe your version of the conversation and not Mrs. Garnet's?"
The woman's reply was almost a whisper. "I believe Lavina was overwrought and wanted to blame someone for her daughter's injuries and..."
"The court is not interested in what you think went on in Mrs. Garnet's head, Mrs. Morrow," Clarke cut in. "First, you expect the jury to believe your version of the reason for your prints being on the engine cowling and you also expect them to believe Mrs. Lavina Garnet lied to this court."
"I object, Your Honour," Sandra Friedman interrupted. "That's a statement not a question."
"I agree," the judge stated. "You will rephrase or withdraw your question, Mr. Clarke."
Clive Clarke nodded politely. "I'll rephrase Your Honour," he said and turned back to Nancy Morrow. "Did you vandalize the Cessna aircraft and, thereby, cause the death of your former husband?"
Nancy Morrow looked up. "I had nothing to do with Grant Ryland's death," she stated without hesitation.
After lengthy summations, the jury retired just before noon and it was the following afternoon before they returned. Lavina and Steve were among the spectators in the crowded observation deck waiting for the verdict.
The judge fixed Nancy with a neutral gaze. "Please stand, Mrs. Morrow."
Nancy nodded and stood with downcast eyes while the judge unfolded a slip of paper the clerk had brought across from the foreman of the jury. He read it with an expressionless face and handed it back to the clerk.
"To the charge of murder, how do you find the defendant?" he asked the jury foreman a moment later.
The foreman stood up. "We find the defendant, not guilty, Your Honour."
"Oh my God," Lavina whispered. "She's getting away with it."
"To the secondary charge of manslaughter, how do you find the defendant?"
"Guilty, Your Honour."
Lavina saw that Nancy Morrow's lips were clamped in a thin line but otherwise there was no reaction at all.
"So that's it," Steve said.
He put an arm around his wife. "I think it was a close call."
"I would have loved to have heard what was said in the jury room," Lavina said.
They stopped talking to listen to the judge's final comments and then watched as a police officer escorted a grim faced Nancy Morrow out of the room.
"Manslaughter. With good behaviour she'll be free in a few years," Lavina said.
"She probably helped us," Steve added philosophically. "If Grant was still alive, you'd still be married to him and not me." He chuckled. "Even if you were separated it would be two years before you could get a divorce."
"I guess you're right," Lavina said. "I never thought of it that way."
Lavina placed her arms around her husband's neck and reached up to kiss him affectionately.
"Now, what was that for?" Steve asked.
"Do I have to have a reason?"
"Not really." Steve grinned and drew her into his arms. "Remember when I first arrived at Upper Forks Road School and you stopped by?"
"Yes, I think I mentioned something about being your neighbour ... then the fun began."
She smiled and grabbed Steve's arm. Together they walked out of the courtroom.
The End
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Did you love Like Twigs in a Storm? Then you should read Wisps of Cloud by Ross Richdale!
Karla Spicer finds her position as Senior Teacher at Tui Park Primary School in Wellington, New Zealand's capital, is hindered by the Associate Principal Val Cook, who resents her progressive ideas. Principal Murray Norwood, is an easy-going man drifting towards retirement who avoids controversy whenever possible. However, through a conscientious attitude and by supporting junior staff and parents Karla becomes a popular staff member.
She becomes romantically involved with Ryan Purdon, the school's property manager. He tells her about problems back at Top Plateau, a tiny school near his family farm where he grew up. After being approached by the Ministry of Education, Karla agrees to take the acting principal's position there and Ryan goes with her to stay in his farmhouse.
Life in a remote area is different than expected with problems at the school and also on Ryan's family farm where he has problems with his sister, step-father and mother who are all trying to sell the property divided between them by his late father's estate.
Tensions arise in the district with a marijuana plantation discovered near the farm and a local bikie gang being suspected as the growers. However, nothing is as it first seems, potential enemies become friends and the trusted, untrustworthy.
Back in Tui Park, teacher Chrissy Ancell is attacked and turns to Karla for help. As Chrissy's attacker is a respected person, their efforts to get justice seem to be thwarted.
It appears that the problems are intertwined with Karla being the kingpin and more than just a teacher striving to do the best for the children under her care.
This is a modern story with romance, crime and human personalities mixed together to create Ross's exciting novel.
N.B. The tui (pronounced two-ee) is a native New Zealand bird found in the local bush that covers many of the steep hills around Wellington in the North Island of New Zealand.
Read more at Ross Richdale’s site.
Also by Ross Richdale
Emerald Eyes Trilogy
Emerald Eyes Destiny
Emerald Eyes Mist
Emerald Eyes Pyramid
Our Ancient Ancestors
When the Longships Came
The Druid's Daughter
Meztli - Sacrificial Maiden
Kyla's Fate
Our Romantic Thrillers
Blemished Jewel
Jana Adrift
Broken Silence
Eagle's Claw Lake
Snow Bond
Blossoms in the Wind
Terra Novels
The Truth About Terra
Terra Incognita
Wisps Trilogy
Wisps of Cloud
Wisps of Snow
Wisps of Wisdom
Standalone
Solar Search
Acid Air
Embrace the Fog
Cosmos Quest
Azure Sea Gold
Alien Hybrid
Crystal Souls
Countess In Exile
Anu Factor
Into the Wormhole
Time Portal
Like Twigs in a Storm
Omega Seed
Catalyst
Long Valley Road
Armlet
Claire
Liberty & Opportunity
Transmigration
Shadows Behind
Wind Across the Playground
Arising Magic
Generation 7
The Other Mrs Hayes
Stretched Horizons
Behind the Fire
Watch for more at Ross Richdale’s site.
About the Author
After a career as a teacher and principal of mainly small rural schools, Ross Richdale lives in the small university city of Palmerston North in the North Island of New Zealand where he writes contemporary novels and science fiction. He is married with three adult children and six grandchildren.
His interest in current events and international incidents serve as a backdrop for many of his novels. Ordinary people rather than the super rich super powerful or violent, are the main characters in his stories. His plots also reflect his interest in the rural lifestyle as well as the cross section of personalities encountered during his years as a teacher.
Read more at Ross Richdale’s site.
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