The Bed She Made

by Elicia Hyder

  He squeezed her hand gently. “I’m glad.”

  She turned her body to face him. “David, you have to go home and fix things with Allie.”

  He started to object, but she held up her hand to silence him.

  “No, let me say this,” she insisted. “I’m sure that in some alternate universe you and I have a fairytale, but it’s not in this one. You’re not the guy who walks out on his commitments, and no matter how much of a rebel I can be sometimes, I care too much about you to let you ruin your marriage without saying something. You and I would never work—not in a million years—if you were to walk out on your wife. We would always have that hanging over us. And I love you too much to live that way, even if it means we could be together.”

  She took his hand and looked carefully into his pained eyes. “I spent so many years regretting that you and I never had a chance; I don’t want to ever spend a minute regretting that we did.”

  They were both silent for a long time. “I know you’re right,” he said. “I don’t like it, but I know you are.”

  “So, you’ll go home?”

  He nodded. “After the funeral.”

  22

  10-7

  Journey woke up on Friday morning with her eyes nearly swollen shut. The four hour visitation the night before had been emotionally brutal and utterly exhausting. Journey was amazed at the outpouring of visitors from their community and well beyond the city of Emerson. She spent hours listening to countless stories of how Marcus had impacted people’s lives inside and outside of his police work.

  The most heart-wrenching visit had been from the family of Julie and Marci Kennedy, whom Journey hadn’t seen since Steven’s trial. Mrs. Kennedy had wept openly in Journey’s arms and had thanked her profusely and, in Journey’s opinion, unnecessarily for her and Marcus’s involvement in finding peace and justice for their family. The couple had moved out of the state of Georgia in an attempt to start their lives again without the overwhelming memories that Emerson held for them on every corner. Journey was quickly beginning to understand their decision. She sincerely appreciated that they had traveled so far, and had reopened so many painful memories, just to convey their condolences.

  As Journey sat wrapped in a towel after her shower, she lacked the energy or the desire to get ready for what would surely be one of the most excruciating days of her life. It felt as though she were being tasked with dressing herself for the guillotine. It was the last day of the year, but it felt like the last day of her life.

  “Knock, knock,” Kara said, poking her head around Journey’s bedroom door.

  Journey looked up as she walked inside carrying a garment bag. “Hey there,” she offered.

  As usual, Kara looked beautiful in a simple black, knee-length dress and cardigan sweater. Carefully, she laid the hanging bag across the bed and knelt down in front of Journey. She pushed Journey’s wet hair back off of her face and lightly kissed her forehead. “I came to do all the work, so you can be pretty without lifting a finger.”

  Journey closed her eyes, willing herself to not begin crying again already. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Kara took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go commandeer your mother’s big bathroom.”

  An hour later, Journey’s hair was dried and flat-ironed down her back. Her makeup was simple and waterproof. Kara had brought her a black sweater dress, borrowed from her cousin, which had short sleeves, simple rhinestones at the neckline, and a belt around the middle. She had also bought for her a pair of dressy boots with a low heel. Journey felt comfortable—and miserable.

  The police department had rented a black town car to pick her up and drive her to the funeral, which was convenient because she had left her car in the church parking lot after the visitation the night before.

  Her parents and the baby rode with her to downtown Emerson. She was overwhelmed at the sight of cars parked along the street for a stretch of at least a mile in each direction of the church.

  Once inside, the only available seats were those reserved for family. The church, which had at least a capacity of a thousand, was beyond standing room only. The vestibule and the courtyard out front were full of people who couldn’t even get inside. Kara, Justin, and David were in the pew behind Journey and her family. David silently squeezed her shoulder when she sat down.

  Among the crowd, were more police officers than Journey had ever seen in her life combined. Each wore their full dress uniforms, fitted and polished brilliantly. Judging from the different styles and colors, she decided that there had to be at least fifty or more different departments represented. An entire section of the church was devoted to the entire Emerson police force. Curtis Martin, Marcus’s brother on the force since the day he received his badge, was seated on the front row opposite of the aisle from Journey. When she caught his eye, she motioned him over.

  He stood to attention and then gracefully closed the area between them. He knelt and cried as he embraced her. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Thank you,” she answered. She pulled back and looked into his tearful eyes. “Will you sit with me?”

  His lower lip trembled.

  “You’re family,” she said, scooting across the pew to make room for him.

  He sucked in a brave, deep breath and sat down beside her.

  The church was covered in flowers. Beneath the altar, surrounded by a fragrant spray, was the large, dark walnut casket draped with the American flag. At Journey’s insistence, it was closed. His formal, peaked police cap, was perched on the lid. On either side stood an officer, in full dress, standing at attention. Marcus’s police headshot, framed in expensive mahogany wood, was perched on a four foot high stand.

  Journey couldn’t look at his face.

  The police chaplain, who had also performed their wedding, gave a poignant, heartfelt message about loyalty, duty, and the ultimate sacrifice. He noted Marcus’s achievements but praised his integrity, heart, and magnetic personality. He prayed a thoughtful prayer of encouragement for Journey and Genna and then reminded her that the police force would always be her family. After he spoke, to Journey’s surprise, Lt. Governor Richard Weidman, offered a brief statement and conveyed his condolences to Journey on behalf of himself and the entire state of Georgia. When he finished, Randall Durant rose from his seat, walked up to the microphone, and shook the Lt. Governor’s hand.

  Slowly, her father turned to face the enormous crowd. From his jacket, he pulled a small sheet of paper and laid it on the pulpit. Journey reached for her mother’s arm. His hands were visibly shaking, and he took a long and labored breath before he spoke.

  “Detective Marcus Gabriel Garrett, has been rightfully recognized and commended here today as an exceptional police officer, a diligent detective, an honorable man, and a faithful friend. It is my wish, and that of my wife, to specifically recognize the man Marcus Garrett was without his badge.

  “Marcus became a member of my family long before he married my youngest daughter.” Randall paused to dab his handkerchief at his eyes. “He loved and supported my little girl in times when a father’s love just wasn’t enough. He rescued her, cherished her, and restored our family during a time when we were lost and broken. He was an exceptional husband and father, and I will be forever in his debt for making our family complete.

  “On behalf of my family, Marcus’s wife Journey, and baby Genna, thank you all for your continued love, support, and prayers through this dark season. I believe that our sovereign God orchestrates everything in His perfect timing, and while I will never understand why my son left us so soon, your presence here today is evidence of the wonderful legacy he leaves behind. Thank you.”

  Journey was weeping by the time he finished. She stood and embraced her daddy as he left the platform of the sanctuary. “I love you,” he whispered before kissing her cheek and taking his seat. When he sat down, he pulled Genna from Carol’s arms and held her against his chest.

  Bagpipes played “Amazing Grace
” as Curtis and five other officers from the Emerson Police Department gathered in formation at the front of the church. Police Chief Gerald Branson called them all to attention, and they saluted the casket. Slowly, they lifted it from its base and carried it down the aisle.

  The ride to the cemetery was as overwhelming as the service. The fire department draped the largest American flag that Journey had ever seen over the highway. The processional of a countless number of cars was lead through the town by thirty uniformed police officers on motorcycles. It seemed as though the entire state of Georgia had shown up to line the streets with flags and banners. Officers and members of the military saluted, citizens stood reverent with their hands over their hearts, and small children waved flags as they passed by.

  When they gathered at the graveside, the chaplain read from The Message version of the Bible, Ecclesiastes 3:1-12. “Everything that happens in this world happens at the time God chooses. He sets the time for birth and the time for death, the time for planting and the time for pulling up, the time for killing and the time for healing, the time for tearing down and the time for building. He sets the time for sorrow and the time for joy, the time for mourning and the time for dancing… He sets the time for love and the time for hate, the time for war and the time for peace… I know the heavy burdens that God has laid on us. He has set the right time for everything. He has given us a desire to know the future but never gives us the satisfaction of fully understanding what He does. So I realized that all we can do is be happy and do the best we can while we are still alive.”

  When he closed his Bible, he offered a prayer, and then Taps was played on a lone trumpet behind them. Two officers carefully folded the American flag and placed it, along with Marcus’s cap, in Journey’s lap. The crowd was silent as the entire police force of the city of Emerson stood at attention and saluted.

  All of their radios went off in unison with the same voice of the female dispatcher who had taken the calls the night Marcus was killed.

  “Emerson to No. 347,” she called out.

  And then again.

  “Emerson to No. 347.”

  And then a third time.

  “Emerson to Detective Marcus Garrett.”

  Then finally...

  “Detective Marcus Garrett is 10-7, off duty. Gone, but never forgotten.”

  23

  Smoking Guns

  The police department, the Presbyterian church, and Journey’s parents’ church all coordinated a meal in the fellowship hall at First Presbyterian after the conclusion of the services. David, Kara, and Justin stayed for dinner at Journey’s insistence. David desperately wished there was something he could do to ease the pain of the horrific day she was having. However, since he didn’t have a magic wand to wave it all away, he watched her closely all evening for the slightest hint of someway he could help.

  Near the end of the dinner, her parents came to the table where she sat next to him with Genna on her lap. “We are going to let the car take us home. Are you ready to go?” her mother asked.

  Journey let out a slow sigh. “I am ready to go, but would you mind taking Genna with you? I think I’m going to drive myself home because I could really use some alone time,” she said. “My car is still here.”

  Carol exchanged a worried glance with her husband.

  David leaned forward. “I can follow her home and make sure she’s alright,” he offered.

  That seemed to relax her mother, and Journey smiled gratefully at him. “Whatever you need,” Randall said, reaching out for Genna.

  Journey kissed her daughter on the cheek before passing the baby to her father. Carol hoisted the diaper bag onto her shoulder. She hugged Journey. “Be careful. We’ll see you at the house.”

  Journey nodded. “I’ll be close behind you.”

  When they had gone, she rested her head against David’s shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t think I can stand one more car ride with awkward silence and nothing good to talk about.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Whatever I can do,” he said.

  Kara slapped her hand on the table. “I say we go get drunk!” she exclaimed, making Journey smile genuinely for the first time all day.

  Justin laughed and nodded his head. “It is New Year’s Eve. I agree.”

  David nodded to the ring on Kara’s hand. “After seven years, how did you finally get him to propose?” he asked.

  Kara pointed at Journey. “I’m pretty sure she forced him to ask me.”

  Journey sipped her glass of watered-down sweet tea. “I did no such thing. I just helped coordinate the details. Besides, I believe that you have done your fair share of interfering in my love life over the years.”

  Kara smiled at Justin. “I’m not complaining.”

  Justin kissed her. “I’m not either.”

  Journey groaned. “Enough of that,” she whined. She looked at David. “I’m ready to go home and chill out.”

  He nodded and stood up. He helped her to her feet as Kara and Justin came around the table. Kara hugged her. “I love you,” she said. “You did good today.”

  Journey was surprised that ‘barely surviving’ was a praiseworthy feat. “Uh, thanks.”

  Justin hugged her as well. “If you need anything at all, you have my number.”

  Journey looked at him with sincere appreciation. “Thank you.”

  David helped her slide into her coat, and he waited as she said her goodbyes to the others who were still in the dining hall. Finally, he offered her his arm, and she linked hers through it. “Let’s go home,” he said.

  She sighed. “Please.”

  He walked her outside to her car. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Could you do me another favor?” she asked.

  He looked at her intently. “Anything.”

  She laughed. “Beer sounds really good. Wanna stop and get us a six pack and bring it to the house?”

  He laughed. “Absolutely!” He hesitated for a second. “Are you sure you’re OK to drive? I promised to look after you.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I promise.”

  “OK,” he said. “I’ll stop and catch up with you. What kind of beer do you want?”

  “Surprise me,” she said.

  He smiled and opened her car door. “Will do.”

  David pulled his dad’s truck out of the parking lot behind Journey and followed her almost all the way to her house until they reached Norm’s Gas Mart, the gas station where they had spent a lot of time tailgating in high school. When he pulled into the parking lot, he saw that Norm, himself, was working that evening. He laughed and got out of the truck, leaving it running near the door. He walked inside and Norm smiled.

  “David Britton, I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays!” The old man laughed and stepped around from behind the counter.

  They embraced, and David slapped him on the back. “I can’t believe you still run this place, you old coot. How have you been?”

  He nodded. “I’m good. Arthritic and tired, but good.” He squeezed David’s shoulder. “Your mother says you’re a big war hero now? An Army Ranger, I hear?”

  David registered movement in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a hooded figure open his truck door and climb inside. “What the…” His shout trailed off as he rushed toward the door, and the truck pulled away from the curb.

  His brain set off warning bells of recognition when the thief turned to look for oncoming traffic. It was Steven Drake. “Damn it!” David shouted. He whirled around back toward Norm. “Norm, I need your keys. Please!”

  Norm’s mouth fell open. “David, we need to call the police!”

  “Norm please,” David begged. “Call the police, but I need to borrow your car!” He yanked out his wallet. “Here… you can hold my wallet till I bring it back, and you can have all the cash inside.”

  Norm looked confused but finally shook his head. “That’s not necessary,” he said, shuffling to the back room. He returned as fast as his art
hritic hips could carry him. “Here, take my car. I’ll call the police. Just be careful.”

  “I owe you, big time.” David took the keys and darted out to the parking lot.

  Steven had several minutes of a head start on him if he was heading to where David knew he was. He realized Steven must have been following them, and had decided to steal David’s truck and leave his own when he was presented with the opportunity. Steven was going after Journey, and she had no idea it was him driving David’s truck.

  He tried to call her cell phone but remembered she had chucked it into the woods the night Marcus had died. He couldn’t recall her parents number so he dialed 911 instead. He knew he would still beat the police by at least twenty minutes.

  · · ·

  Journey parked in her parents' driveway and rested her head against the steering wheel for a moment before finding her purse and getting out of the car. She clicked the lock button on her key fob and headed toward the front door. Headlights turned down the driveway, and she laughed a little out loud. “That was fast,” she said, shaking her head.

  She paused to wait for David to park and join her. He wrenched open the squeaky truck door, forgetting to turn off the headlights. She laughed in the direction of his silhouette as he slammed the door. “You forgot the lights!” she called to him as he approached.

  She hadn’t remembered that he was wearing jeans.

  It was too late to run when she saw Steven’s face. She darted toward the door and pulled on the handle, but it was locked. Before she could knock, fumble for a key, or even scream he was on top of her with his hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Hello again,” he snarled in her ear.

  He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  She struggled against him, but he had a firm grasp on her right arm that she had so badly injured in her car accident less than two years before. When she winced with pain, he dug his fingers into her old scars even harder.