“I don’t know how well that trait will serve him in Chicago,” the guard snorted. “We try to encourage the men to learn more marketable skills when they have the opportunity, but not old Aron. He said he was from the south, where dirt and growing plants was in his blood since he grew up on a farm.”
“You never can tell about that. Some people do hire people to tend to their lawns and gardens,” Wade said quietly. Something about the guard put him off.
“So you don’t think he’ll fall back on his old ways?” Marcus asked.
“Son, all we do is test them and factor in their behavioral patterns. It’s not a perfect science. Aron hasn’t done anything for us to assume that he would go back to his criminal ways,” the warden said.
“Only time will tell,” the guard added.
“Well, I have a wife and we live in a decent community, so we don’t want to introduce an undesirable person to the neighborhood,” Marcus said.
“What were the circumstances that led to him being incarcerated?” Wade asked the warden.
He looked down and flipped the pages in the file. “He was stealing a car and got caught by the owner. Aron said the owner pulled his gun on him first, so the shooting was self-defense. He said he hadn’t actually taken the car at that point, so he was a victim of circumstances. That didn’t fly of course. He went to trial and was found guilty and sent to Joliet. You were aware that the crime happened on the south side of Chicago, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was able to find some information about the case in the archives,” Marcus replied. He was still writing notes.
“All felons say they are innocent. If I had a dime for every time I heard that lame excuse, I wouldn’t have to work another day of my life,” the guard interjected complacently into the conversation.
“And some of them are telling the truth,” Wade said quietly. “Look how new DNA testing has cleared thousands of men.”
“You sound like you side with prisoners. You’re one of us, and as a detective, I would think your outlook on them would be different.” Charles looked at Wade with a slight sneer on his face.
“I’m for justice period.” Wade’s tone of voice brooked no argument. “We have enough black men in jail; surely the innocent ones deserve a fair shake. If a man has been found guilty of a crime, then of course, he should do the time. We all know back in the fifties, and even now, how racial prejudice exists, and a lot of men got a bum deal. So I keep an open mind, that’s all.”
“Did anyone visit Aron when he was in Joliet?” Marcus asked.
“Not a soul for the longest time, and then a woman started visiting him from time to time about twenty years ago. We thought he was a single man without any family, so I was quite surprised when I got your call,” the warden answered.
“What about letters, mail? Did he receive anything from anyone?”
“Yes, he did, but that was years ago,” Charlie answered. “They were mostly from a small town in Louisiana. We thought he might go back to Louisiana after he gets released. According to our records, Aron was born and raised in New Orleans, and later he migrated to Alabama. He received letters from Alabama too.”
“The letters from Louisiana stopped about ten years ago. We were able to surmise they were from a relative, maybe a sister or aunt. The letters from Alabama stopped five years ago. They were from a woman, and they shared the same surname,” the warden announced, after checking the file once again. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you when you arrived if you’d like something to drink; coffee or tea, maybe?”
Wade and Marcus declined the offer and asked the warden and guard several more questions. When they were done talking a half an hour later, the guard said to give him twenty minutes, and then they could visit Aron. He left the office and returned to the cellblock.
Warden Jones stood up. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. I hope we were able to help you somewhat. I have a lunch appointment, and then a meeting afterward. Feel free to contact me if you have any further questions. You can wait for Charlie in the waiting area, and he will escort you to Aron’s cellblock.”
Marcus and Wade rose from their chairs. “Thank you, Warden Jones. You’ve been very helpful. I guess all that’s left to do is meet the man himself,” Marcus said. The men shook the warden’s hand and walked back out to the waiting area to await Charlie’s return.
Back in Chicago at the Caldwells’ residence, Monet was on pins and needles, anticipating Marcus’s return. She kept looking at the grandfather clock in the living room, like doing so would make time go faster, even though she had no idea when he would be back.
Monet, with Duane’s help a week ago, had returned to the attic and brought down all the memorabilia their mother had amassed over the years. Monet must have looked at the pictures of her father a million times, until the corners of the snapshots were dog-eared. Duane flew to Alabama long enough to retrieve documents from their mother’s secret safe-deposit box and return to Chicago. Luckily, she had granted access to the box to all her children. In the box were Aron’s unopened letters to his children over the years. Duane and Monet poured through the letters like they were reading a novel. Even now, weeks later, Monet was in the process of re-reading the letters.
The decision as to where Aron would reside once he was released from prison was still up in the air. Derek maintained his stance that he wanted no part of his father, while Monet and Duane, being more opened minded, were willing to hear his side of the story.
Monet picked up a picture of Aron when he must have been around thirty years old. She said, “Daddy,” but didn’t feel any connection to the stern looking, handsome man in the sepia print. She opened the last letter Aron had written to them dated 2004 and read it again.
To my children,
I’m sorry I ain’t been around you or tried to contact you most of your life before now. I did you all and your momma wrong. I know now that I should have stayed with Gay and helped her raise our family.
I was a young man with a lot of anger in me. I think it was ’cause I didn’t have nobody to encourage me in life, and my Pops always told me that I wouldn’t amount to nothing. He was right. Gayvelle was the only person who encouraged me, but I was too proud to listen to and believe in what she was telling me.
The way my Pops treated me filled me with anger that I didn’t know how to let go of my rage. Don’t be upset with your momma for not telling you about me. I told her to tell you when she thought the time was right.
Despite all that has happened, Gay has been kind to me. She could have divorced me a long time ago. So some love for me must have remained in her heart because otherwise, she never would have written to me all those years ago. I hope one day you’ll find forgiveness in your heart and let me try to make it up to you.
Your father,
Aron Reynolds
Monet just shook her head. Why can’t I feel any love in my heart for this man? Is it because he left Momma and us? I just can’t figure it out. She rubbed her finger along her father’s face. A murderer, that sounds so horrible. My father is a killer. God, I hope he didn’t kill any children. She had run a Google search on her father’s name, but didn’t get any hits.
The baby kicked vigorously, and Monet smiled and rubbed her now noticeable, rotund belly. “Okay, little girl, are you trying to tell me that you’re hungry, or are you just trying to get my attention?” She set the picture on the table and slowly rose off the couch.
Her blood workup from the lab had come back within normal readings, and the ultra sound procedure didn’t disclose any abnormalities. But she declined taking the amniocentesis test. She knew that Faith was just fine, and didn’t want to subject her baby to any intrusive test. Monet was the picture of health and wore that pregnant woman glow. She was nearing the end of her second trimester.
She had asked Liz and Wade to be Faith’s godparents, and they accepted proudly. Reverend Wilcox was a source of comfort to Monet, and made herself available whenever she needed someone to
talk to if Liz wasn’t available. All in all, life was good. The only blot on the horizon was Marcus’s attitude. The police hadn’t found any new leads regarding her attacker, so her case remained opened, but cold.
Monet was headed to the kitchen for milk when the doorbell rang. She walked to the front door and squinted out the peephole. Liz was standing on the top step holding a bag of food. Monet unlocked the door, and Liz stepped inside the house.
“How are you and my goddaughter doing?” Liz asked, after setting the bag on the table in the foyer and taking off her coat, which she hung in the closet.
“I’m doing fine, but baby girl has been kicking up a storm. I think she’s hungry.” Monet laughed as she rubbed her abdomen.
“Then my timing was perfect. I brought you some turnip greens, cornbread, and a jar of ice tea. I know you’re probably worried about what’s going on in Dwight, so I left work early to spend the afternoon with you.”
“Thank you, and yes, your timing is impeccable. I’ve had a craving for greens since last weekend. My momma used to make the best greens in the world.” Monet looked away from Liz.
“Sweetie, I know you’re longing for your mother right about now. My mother was a lot of help to me when I was pregnant and after my babies were born. Let’s go to the kitchen and warm up the food.”
“Let’s do just that,” Monet said gaily, as she put her arm through Liz’s arm, and they walked to the kitchen.
She removed two glasses from the counter, and then sat in a kitchen chair while Liz put the bowl of greens in the microwave to heat them. She opened the freezer, took out a tray of ice, put a couple of cubes in their glasses, and then poured the tea into the glasses.
“Have you heard from Wade?” Monet couldn’t prevent the question from coming out of her mouth.
“He called to say they had made it to Dwight safely and that was it,” Liz answered. The microwave beeped, signaling the food was warm. “You haven’t heard from Marcus?”
“No. Not that I expected to, but I was hoping he would call me since he was going to see my father.” Monet’s voice trembled. She stood up and took two plates out of the cabinet and forks and knives out of the drawer. She placed them on the table and put napkins next to the plates.
“Why don’t you sit down and relax? Worrying isn’t going to change the situation. We’ll know the answers to your questions in due time,” Liz advised.
Monet sighed. “You’re right. I might as well enjoy some of the perks of being pregnant and getting spoiled while I can.”
“Now you’re getting it.” Liz smiled. “That was one of the things I really loved about being pregnant. That and the mostly wrong predictions from family and friends as to what sex my babies were going to be. Come to think of it, all your predications were always right.”
“Yes I was, wasn’t I?” Monet dipped her head. “Sometimes I get so caught up in the situation with Marcus that I forget to enjoy life and just be happy.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Liz said, after she had placed a helping of greens and a piece of cornbread on their plates. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and sat down across from Monet. They grabbed each other’s hands and Monet said grace.
Afterward, Liz looked at Monet and asked, “Are you good? Do you need anything?”
“A tomato would go great with the greens. Would you get me one out of the vegetable bin?” Monet threw a dash of pepper on her greens and then sipped her tea. “Um, that’s good.”
Liz handed Monet a tomato. She diced the red vegetable and mixed them into her greens. Liz had prepared the greens with smoked turkey wings, giving the dish a mouth-watering taste. Monet put a forkful of food in her mouth, and quickly followed that up with several more forkfuls.
“Liz, these greens taste almost as good as my momma’s did.” Monet held two fingers close together.
“Well, thank you. I brought enough to last you a few days.”
“I thank you, and Faith thanks you. She has settled down for now.” Monet set her glass of tea on the table after taking a few sips.
“Monet, Wade and I have been talking, and we’d like to buy a bedroom set for the baby. What do you think about that?”
“I’m touched, Liz, but you and Wade don’t have to do that,” she said.
“We want and would love to. You and Marcus have been so generous to us over the years. Like when Wade and I were a little short when it came to WJ’s tuition money his first semester of college, you and Marcus made up the difference. You also helped us with the down payment on our house. Your love and support over the years has been immeasurable, and we want to do something in return since you and Marcus wouldn’t accept repayment from us.”
Monet could see from her friend’s pleading eyes that she and Wade had their hearts set on buying the bedroom set. “Of course you can. I’m flattered, and all of us, me, Marcus, and Faith, appreciate your generosity.”
Liz had finished eating. She stood up and put her plate in the sink. When she sat back down in the chair, she reached into her purse and pulled out some furniture catalogs. She placed them on the table in front of Monet’s plate. “I saw some bedroom sets that I like and put a check mark beside them. After you finish eating, we can look at them and see what you like.”
“That sounds like fun. I’ve been debating if I want to go the traditional pink route, or have white walls with a rainbow motif.” Monet had just eaten the last of her greens and tomatoes. She burped softly and caressed her tummy. “Oops, I’m sorry, excuse me. I guess I’d better slow down.” Her face reddened with embarrassment.
“Girl, don’t start getting funny on me. With babies pressing on your internal organs, you’ve got to get some relief. Now I was the one who stayed humiliated. I had gas like I was a shareholder in People’s Gas,” Liz said unashamed.
“Now that you mentioned that, it seemed like there was always a faint odor about you when you were carrying your babies,” Monet teased.
The women cracked up. Monet picked up a catalog and opened it. Her eyes alit on a white lacquered crib, dressing table, and changer. She also liked a dark pine set. She had an affinity for wood, which showed all over her house.
Monet and Liz looked at pictures of nursery sets and made a date to go visit the mall the following day to look at furniture. Monet was insistent that she wanted to wait until her ninth month before she bought baby furniture.
Liz had managed to successfully distract Monet from worrying about what was going on in Dwight. Every now and then, Monet would try to picture Marcus and her father in the same room, but the picture was always blurred.
Chapter 24
Marcus and Wade had just passed through the prison’s last security checkpoint before they arrived in Aron’s cellblock. A guard armed with a rifle escorted them to a small meeting room. After they removed their jackets and put them on the backs of their chairs in the tiny 5x5 cinder blocked room, the door opened.
Two different guards escorted into the room a white haired, elderly, heavily bearded man with a slight limp, wearing an orange correctional jumpsuit. The man rubbed his wrists and flexed his hands after one of the guards removed the manacles. Aron sat down in a metal chair across the table from Marcus. Wade had positioned his chair to Marcus’s left side.
Marcus stared at his father-in-law. It was obvious which parent Monet had inherited her eye coloring from. The twins had their father’s nose and mouth. Marcus noted that Monet and her brothers bore a stronger resemblance to their father than their mother.
Likewise, Aron peered intently at the man sitting in front of him. He saw a man whose curiosity and intelligence shone in his eyes. Aron also saw pain etched in the hollows of Marcus’s face. It was an expression that Aron was familiar with. He knew the pain in his son-in-law’s face mirrored his own at times.
“You must be Marcus,” he said with just a touch of a southern accent.
“I am.” Marcus studied the man sitting before him with his arms folded across his chest.
<
br /> “I’m Aron Reynolds.” He extended a withered hand.
Marcus debated whether to shake his hand or not, but finally he grudgingly held out his hand. Wade watched the interaction between the men in silent curiosity.
“How are my daughter and sons doing? Do they know you’ve come to see me?” The older man’s voice was feeble and shook slightly.
“That’s a shame that you have to ask me, not even a blood relative, how your family is doing?” Marcus said coldly.
“You’re right. It isn’t right, but it is what it is. I have tried to get in touch with them, but my wife decided the time wasn’t right, and I honored her wishes.” Aron lifted his chin a notch, and his voice gained strength.
“Sure you did,” Marcus sneered. “Obviously you didn’t try hard enough.”
“I did the best I could at the time. One thing I’ve learned from all these years of being locked up is that life doesn’t always go the way you planned, and if you’re lucky, you get another chance to make it right. That’s all I ask of my children, an opportunity to make it right,” Aron stated.
“What do you want from us, old man?” Marcus asked. He propped up his arm on the table and looked at Aron with a cynical glint in his eye.
“I would like to stay with you and my daughter until I can get on my feet. I want to try to get to know my girl and my boys,” he countered.
“Did it ever occur to you that she and your sons might not want to see you?” Marcus shot back.
“I know my wife, and I have a pretty good idea of how she raised our children. She wrote me to say that she would ask them to see me, and I’m hoping they will at least grant an old man that one request.”
Faith Page 19
