Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2)

by Braxton Hicks

  “Just making sure I cover all of the bases in carrying out her last requests.”

  I gave Daniel Trey’s office address and told him to send the cell phone records there to Trey’s attention. I assured him Trey would get to the bottom of this and I'd keep him posted on our progress.

  “I appreciate that. I know Maggie wasn't good to you. The fact you even give a damn about carrying out her dying wishes is, well, it’s impressive.”

  “She was my mother’s sister, Daniel, and if what Maggie told me on her deathbed is true, I have a score to settle myself, on my mother’s behalf.”

  We left it that we'd be in touch with one another in the next day or two. I needed Trey at the moment. I felt vulnerable and scared with all that Maggie had told me.

  Trey was in his office; his cell phone was on speaker mode and I recognized Tonya’s voice on the other end.

  He looked up at me and smiled; he waved for me to come in. I climbed into his lap and buried my face against his shoulder. The tears started flowing.

  “Tonya, let me call you back in thirty and we’ll continue updating my schedule.” Trey ended his call and pulled me back so that he could see my face.

  “I know, sweetheart,” he said gently, kissing away my tears. “I know it hurts, baby.” Trey lifted me from his lap and took me by the hand leading me to our room. He sat me on the bed and removed my boots and socks. “Climb under the covers, baby,” he instructed.

  I did as he said and he tucked me in. He sat beside me on the bed gently stroking my face with his fingers. He leaned over and kissed me warmly. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days, Tylar. Why don’t you take a nap while I go and pick up Preston from Gina’s? The three of us will spend a nice quiet day together. I’m having Tonya clear my calendar, so we'll have the whole week together, okay?”

  “Thank you, Trey. I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby. Now close your eyes. I’ll sit here with you until you fall asleep.”

  I wasn’t sure how much later it was when I awoke. Someone was on the bed with me. Someone fussing and saying, “num-num” over and over again. Trey was sitting on the edge of the bed and Preston was crawling towards me.

  “Sorry, baby,” he said smiling. “I was trying to feed her some pureed carrots but she wants num-num.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, pulling the covers back and letting her in. “She’s just what I need at the moment. What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly noon. Are you getting hungry?”

  “A little bit. Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet. How about if I make some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “That’s my favorite comfort food,” I said, smiling up at him. Trey was also just what I needed.

  “OK, then lunch will be ready as soon as Preston finishes,” he said, on his way to the kitchen.

  I thought about what Maggie had said the other day when Trey and I saw her the first time about Preston vomiting every time she finished nursing from Maggie. I recalled how resistant and reluctant Preston had been when we got her back to nurse from me. Suddenly, I was filled with fear at the possibility that if Maggie was being poisoned, Preston may have ingested some of whatever poison it was through Maggie’s breast milk.

  I needed to stay calm. I'd discuss this with Trey to see if he thought she should have blood testing done. The problem was, we didn't know what to look for as a specific poison.

  Trey returned to our room a little while later, lifting a sleeping Preston from my arms to put her in her crib. I pulled my sweater on and went out to the kitchen. Trey joined me momentarily. Over lunch, I discussed my concern about having Preston tested in case Maggie had been poisoned during the period of time that Preston was with her.

  “Christ,” he said, shaking his head. “How in the hell do we explain that to her pediatrician? I suppose it’s worth putting a call in to see if anything can be done when nothing is conclusive on Maggie’s assertion, at this point.”

  He looked over at my worried face and took my hand into his. “I really think the baby is fine, though, sweetie.”

  “I know Trey, but it would put my mind at ease knowing that some slow-acting poison hasn’t infiltrated one of her organs.”

  “I suppose you want me to make the call to the doctor, right?”

  “Please? I’m too embarrassed. Apparently, there’s some bayou trash amongst my mother’s siblings, it would seem. I’m too emotionally drained at the moment.”

  “Alright, baby,” he said, “but there's a call that I think you need to make yourself.”

  “What call?”

  “The call to Judge Tylar. I happen to have his cell phone number. He left all of his contact information when he phoned me at my office last week.”

  I was reluctant to make that call. What would I say? What if he didn’t like the message? What if he rejected me like a lot of others had in the course of my life? I couldn’t take a rejection like that. What if he didn’t believe me?

  “Tylar,” Trey said, watching me toss around the ‘what ifs’ in my mind.

  “I know. I know that it's my call to make. What do I say to him?”

  “How about: Congratulations, Your Honor; it’s a girl?”

  Chapter 35

  It was Monday evening. I'd cleaned the kitchen up after dinner; bathed and dressed Preston for bed, and showered and put on clean pajamas. Trey was playing with Preston in the living room before Monday night football. I had no reason to put off making the phone call to Judge Tylar.

  I took my cell phone to our bedroom and sat down on the bed. I took a deep breath and pressed the keys for the cell phone number that Judge Tylar had given Trey. I recognized his voice when he answered his phone.

  “Judge Tylar—this is Trey Sinclair’s wife. We ran into each other at the courthouse last week in Baton Rouge?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Sinclair, I remember. What can I do for you?”

  Here goes nothing.

  “I recently learned that my birth name was Tylar Jamie Renaud. I was raised as Tylar Jamie Preston around Louisville, Kentucky. I was born in Louisiana, on July 14, 1990. My mother’s name was Marla Renaud. I was told by my aunt, who just passed away, that you're my father.”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the phone for several moments. I'd probably shocked the hell out of him.

  “Hello? Judge, are you still there?”

  “I knew it. I knew it the moment I saw you that you were Marley’s daughter. My God, you're the picture of her. Every bit as beautiful as my sweet Marley,” he said. The emotion was evident in his voice.

  “I do have the same amber-colored eyes as you, though,” I said, putting it out there. “I was told that my mother had green eyes.”

  “What do you mean, you were told? Where's your mother? Where's Marley?”

  Oh, God. He had no clue about any of this.

  “I don’t remember my mother, Judge. She died before I was a year old.”

  “Dead? How's that possible? What happened?"

  I explained to him what Maggie had told Trey and I about Matthew Renaud and the night he presented my mother to the judge at his bachelor party in New Orleans. It was the night that I'd been conceived. I mentioned the part about the pearl necklace and earrings and my mother telling Maggie that the judge had told her that he loved her. He listened intently, never interrupting to confirm or deny. I ended the story with her death, though I wasn’t sure of the exact date.

  “It’s all true,” he admitted, not hiding the sadness and regret in his voice. “Marley was a virgin when I took her that night. I was drunk and enjoying the last of my bachelor life. I'm ashamed to say this, but I thought she was like the other girls that were there that night to service the men. I swear, I felt horrible after what I'd done.”

  I wanted him to tell me about my mother. I wanted to hear about her from someone who had cared about her. “Can you tell me anything about her?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “She was bea
utiful—like you are. She was feisty, which of course made her that much more desirable. I romanced her that evening. I listened to her talk about her hopes and dreams for the future. She had distinct plans for her life. She didn’t care for New Orleans. She wanted to move back home to Mississippi and get a job and to put herself through college. I remember her saying she didn’t care to continue living with her sister and brother, since she'd turned eighteen a couple months previously.”

  He stopped for a moment and sighed. “I asked her if she wanted to go upstairs where we could talk more privately as the party was getting fairly lively downstairs. We'd rented two floors of the hotel for that weekend."

  "She agreed. I took her to my suite and we sat on the bed sipping champagne and sharing bits and pieces of our lives with each other. I still was under the impression that she was…well uh…”

  “A whore?” I finished for him.

  “Yes. May I call you ‘Tylar’?”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied stiffly.

  “Tylar, I don’t want to go into any further detail about what happened after that. It was a private night between your mother and me. Suffice it to say that I realized very quickly that she was an innocent. She'd been telling the truth when she tried to shove me off of her, telling me that she was a virgin. I honestly thought that it was part of her ‘routine,’ I guess. I felt horrible afterwards, but she stayed with me the whole night. She didn’t have to; I offered to have a limo dispatched to take her home.”

  At this point, I heard the judge chuckle softly. What had he found funny about the apparent ravaging of my mother? I wanted to hate him, but for some reason, I couldn’t.

  “After she verbally berated me for my ‘animalistic’ behavior, I think she called it; she claimed she wanted to wash my ‘stench’ off of her. She ordered me to draw a bubble bath for her, which I did. I was falling all over myself to make it up to her. She took a leisurely bath, and then put the hotel robe on and climbed into bed. She instructed me not to get any ideas; she just wanted me to hold her in my arms while we slept. I did as ordered and we slept curled up in each other’s arms all night. It was the best night’s sleep that I'd ever had. I have not had another night’s rest quite like it since.”

  I felt the tears running down my face hearing his story. There must've been something about him that my mother trusted. The very brief interlude that they had with one another had somehow formed a connection. That connection was me. Could my mother have suspected then that she'd conceived?

  “What happened after that?” I asked him.

  “I drove her home the next morning, still apologizing to her. I told her that I was to be married soon, but that I needed to see her, to be with her. I told her that I wanted to make love to her properly. She asked me if I was still going to be married. I said that I was. She told me that she didn’t roll that way.”

  Oh my God! She sounds so much like me!

  “The rest, you already know, Tylar. Your aunt’s account of what happened over the next couple of weeks is all accurate. I did love my sweet Marley. I always have.”

  I needed to get off the phone. This was all too emotional for me. “Does your cell phone have video capabilities?” I asked him.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I'd like to forward the video I recorded of my aunt’s deathbed conversation. There are parts of it that you need to hear. Maybe you can help with untangling some of this. I know you're a busy man, Judge Tylar.”

  “Please, call me Preston.”

  “Uhh, I don’t think I can do that sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my baby daughter is named Preston.”

  “I see,” he said.

  I felt his smile over the phone. “So I'm a grandfather as well as a father?”

  “Only if you believe what I'm telling you is true,” I answered.

  “I believe it's the truth. I’m only sorry that Marley didn’t let me know. It would've changed everything,” he said with a sigh. “Would you consider calling me ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’?” he asked tentatively.

  It was my turn to smile into the phone. “I like ‘Dad’ best,” I replied.

  “Then Dad it is.”

  “Okay, Dad, I'll send this video your way. I'd appreciate any help you can provide in locating these people mentioned. If my mother was poisoned as my aunt alleges in this conversation, then I need to seek justice on her behalf.”

  “Of course you have it,” he promised. “When can I see you and my grandbaby, Tylar?”

  “I don’t know for certain. We’ll work something out soon. Can I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m fifty,” he replied. “I’m ten years older than your mother.”

  Just like with Trey and me.

  “Do I have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I’m afraid not. My wife wasn’t able to have children. She passed away last year.”

  “So, you'll watch the video and get back with me?”

  “Yes, I will. I'll try and get some answers for you very quickly.”

  “Good-night, Tylar.”

  “Good-night, Dad.”

  Trey came into the bedroom looking for me. He had Preston in his arms. “I wondered where you were,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

  “Everything’s fine, Trey,” I said, entering my dad’s number into my contact list on my iPhone.

  Once finished, I forwarded the video to his cell.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I just forwarded Maggie’s conversation to Dad. He’s going to assist in getting to the bottom of this.”

  “Dad?” he asked, his eyes widening.

  “Well it’s ‘dad’ for me. I think you're still expected to address him as ‘Your Honor’,” I replied smiling.

  “Seriously? You made the call?”

  “Yes I did. He shared a lot with me about my mother. He believes I'm his daughter and wants to meet his granddaughter who just happens to be his namesake.”

  “Baby, that's fantastic,” he said. “So, what do you say that I put Preston down for the night, and then you and I celebrate your good news?”

  “Let me guess. We’ll watch Monday Night Football together?”

  “That’s not even close to what I have in mind,” he said, giving me his dimpled grin.

  Chapter 36

  Gina and I were in the kitchen getting the bird out of the oven.

  "Can you mash the potatoes, Gina?”

  “Sure thing,” she replied, getting the hand mixer out of the drawer.

  I went into the living room where both Trey and Tristan were sprawled out watching football.

  “Trey,” I said, “Can you please carve the turkey?”

  “Yeah baby. Next commercial, I promise.”

  I went back into the kitchen where Gina was plugging the cord for the mixer into the wall socket. “You know, Gina, it kinda burns my ass that I spent the better part of two days preparing this meal and all Trey has to do is carve the damn turkey, provided that he can do it during a flipping commercial.”

  “Now, Ty, football is also very much a Thanksgiving tradition, you know. It’s important to let Trey enjoy the holiday the way he chooses.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance. It wasn’t like her to defend Trey’s position on anything. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked. “Or maybe, the better question is who has gotten in to you?”

  Gina immediately looked away and I saw her face flush.

  “No, you didn’t!” I shrieked.

  “Shhh,” Gina hissed, “Keep it down. I don’t want Tristan thinking that I put our business out there like that.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, “You're telling me everything and I want it now. Put the lid back on those potatoes,” I instructed, putting the foil back over the turkey. “Come with me.”

  We passed Trey coming into the kitchen as we headed out.

  “Hey, don’t you want me to carv
e the turkey?” he asked.

  “Yeah, go ahead. I have to show Gina what I bought for Preston to wear on Christmas,” I lied.

  Once we got into the privacy of the master suite, I closed the door. “Spill it,” I said, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

  “You can’t say a word to Trey, and I mean it.”

  “BFF promise,” I said, holding my hand up.

  “Well,” she giggled, “The first night he got to town, it was all kind of businesslike, you know? We talked about the club; I listened to his suggestions, some of which I liked, others not so much. We went to the club and discussed the layout and some changes that he wants to make to accommodate having a dinner crowd just through the week to generate more revenue—”

  “For Chrissake, Gina—I don’t want to hear all that shit. Get to the good part.”

  “Okay, so like Monday and Tuesday night he slept in the guest room, all nice and proper. Last night, we decided to go to the club and party it up. The music was great; we were drinking and dancing. So, we get back to my condo and we’re both tipsy. I tell him good-night and go and get in my skimpy little black silk nightie with the push up bra. Then I remembered that I needed to make that cranberry relish to bring over here today, and I needed to soak the cranberries.”

  “Uh-huh,” I replied, “Go on, get to the good stuff.”

  “Well, I figure Tristan is in his room, so I go out dressed in my sexy nightie to the kitchen and get the cranberries out and put them in water to soak overnight. Just as I'm crossing back through the living room, there he is headed out of the guest room like he’s going to the kitchen. The next thing I know, I’m pressed up against him making out and feeling him getting all hard.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said giggling, “then what?”

  “Well, he asked me if I wanted to take it to the bedroom. I said sure. He said he had condoms, so we went to my room and fucked all night long."

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. That’s what happened.”