Broken Promises (24 page)

The courtroom was nearly deserted on the late Friday afternoon, especially since it was St. Patrick’s Day and many had taken part in the parade and after work celebrations. Gary Copper was escorted into the antechamber, handcuffs on his wrists and shackles on his legs, wearing an orange jumpsuit.

“Really, is this necessary?” Greg Thanner asked, “I insist you remove these restraining implements from his person. He is remanded to my custody while he is in the courtroom with me, I will be responsible for him.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thanner, but security requires…” the first officer began.

“Excuse me, but do you want to be a part of the counter suit we are leveling against this county?” he asked. “Either you take off these handcuffs and shackles, or you will see us in court,”

The officers looked at each other and shrugged, “We’ll be right outside the door, waiting,” the first one said, and he bent and removed the security apparatus.

Once the door had closed, Thanner sat in a chair across from Gary Copper. Gary shook his head. “I am disappointed in you, Greg,” Gary began. “You were supposed to get me off. And yet, here I am, convicted of manslaughter. What did I pay you for?”

Thanner wiped a handkerchief over his moist forehead. “I did the best I could,” he defended. “Once you told them about cutting into your wife, my hands were tied.”

Gary sat back in his chair. “Oh, so this is my fault?” he asked. “You were the one who suggested I testify on my own behalf.”

Thanner nodded his head. “Well, I admit that was a misjudgment on my part.”

Gary smiled. “They say confession is good for the soul,” he said, “Especially a confession just before you die.”

The officers on the other side of the door heard a muffled noise and looked at each other. But the noise wasn’t repeated, so they simply shrugged and waited for Thanner to notify them he was ready to bring Gary into the courtroom.

It was starting to get dark; Clarissa watched the streetlights turn on and watched the grocery store slide the metal grate over its windows and close up for the day. She scanned the streets from the living room window, waiting for her mother.

She had packed all of her clothes and her few belongings into her backpack. That morning her mother had suggested the she also carry all of their money in her backpack, because it would be a lesser target for pickpockets than her mother’s purse. But that was early in the morning and her mother was supposed to have been home by lunchtime.

She walked into her bedroom and looked out her window, down to the bar across the street. Ever since early that afternoon, there had been a steady stream of customers into the bar. They were all wearing green hats or green clothing. Clarissa remembered her teacher telling them about St. Patrick’s Day and how all of the students should wear green to school that day. She sighed; she was really going to miss her teacher.

The lock rattled and Clarissa hurried out of her room. Her mother stumbled into the apartment and Clarissa ran forward to catch her. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she gasped. “I just need to catch my breath.”

Clarissa led her over to the nearest chair and helped her sit down. “Let me get you some water, Mommy,” she said. “So you can take you medicine.”

Becca smiled at her daughter. “That would be lovely, sunshine, thank you.”

Becca listened to Clarissa’s footsteps enter the kitchen, and took a napkin from her pocket. The white napkin was already dotted with specks of dried blood. Becca lifted it to her mouth and coughed softly, expelling a little more blood. She quickly wiped her mouth and stuffed the napkin back in her pocket before Clarissa came into the room.

Handing her mother the cup of water, Clarissa looked worried. “Maybe you should rest and we can go tomorrow,” she suggested.

Sipping the water, Becca shook her head. “No,” she finally said. “This is the perfect day. We can get lost in the St. Patrick’s Day crowds and no one will be able to track us.”

“Are you sure, Mommy?” Clarissa asked.

Becca nodded and silently prayed for some more strength. “I’m sure, honey.”

Stanley pushed open his front door and hurried into the house, not even taking the time to close the door behind him. He first went to his bedroom, throwing open the closet and searching the shelves and the boxes on the floor. “Nothing,” he muttered.

He walked past his office, knowing what he was looking for was not in there either, since he just spent the past week cleaning it. Moving on to the guest room, he pulled open drawers and examined the closet and under the bed. He was having no luck at all.

Walking through the kitchen, he opened the door to the basement. Glancing quickly, he thought he saw a light down below, but in a moment it was gone. Shrugging, he turned on the basement light and hurried down the narrow steps. Years ago Verna had asked him to create a series of shelving units all along the walls of the basement. The shelves closest to the door held personal items and kitchen equipment. Those across the way were supposed to hold camping equipment and tools. He bit his lip, knowing that he hadn’t been as careful in the past few years with putting things were they needed to be. He hoped he could still find it.

Knowing the first unit was filled with Christmas ornaments, he skipped that one. The second unit held all of the canning equipment; it wouldn’t be in there either. He moved down to the third shelving unit and found a number of boxes that were labeled in Verna’s handwriting. He opened the first one and found it filled with items that belonged to their children; books, toys, sports equipment and miscellaneous trophies filled several shelves worth of boxes.

The last set of shelves had boxes that were haphazardly placed on each level. There were no markings on the box and the lids were fastened with duct tape. He shook his head, these must have been the boxes he put away. He pulled down the first box and ripped open the top. A waft of Verna’s perfume filled the air and he quickly looked around, sure that she was standing nearby. He looked down and saw the box held some of the clothes from her closet. He picked up a blue cardigan and stroked it lovingly. It was her favorite sweater; she wore it nearly every day in the winter as she worked around the house. He lifted it to his face and inhaled her perfume as bittersweet memories came flooding into his mind.

“Oh, Verna, am I doing the right thing?” he asked aloud.

“Well, it’s a little late to ask that question,” Verna’s voice came from directly behind Stanley.

He jumped around and started when he saw her, standing just a few feet away. “Verna?”

“You got that sweet woman waiting at the altar for you and now you’re going to ask if you should be marrying her?” she asked, shaking her finger at him. “Why Stanley Wagner, what kind of man are you anyway?”

“I guess I’m the confused kind, Verna,” he said. “How come you’re back here, messing around with my mind?”

“Because, if I hadn’t come back, you would have forgotten,” she said. “And I didn’t want you to forget.”

Stanley looked away for a moment. “Pert near forgot, until I was standing at the altar, waiting for the music to begin,” he said. “So, I rushed home to find it.”

She smiled at him. “Do you love her?” she asked.

“I won’t be hurting your feelings iffen I tell you the truth?” he asked.

“Tell me the truth, Stanley.”

“I love her,” he said. “It don’t take away from the love I felt for you. It’s different, but it’s right.”

“I know it’s right,” she said. “I like her, Stanley.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you do,” he said. “She said she thought she’d like you too.”

“Well, then, since you’ve got that settled, I’ll just be on my way,” she said, and she started fading away.

“Wait! Verna! I can’t find it,” he said. “I’m keeping her waiting and I can’t find it.”

Verna was nearly gone, but he heard her whisper into his ear. “Check in the pocket of my favorite sweater, Stanley.”

He turned the sweater around and put his hand in the right front pocket. All that was inside was a folded tissue. Then he put his hand into the left pocket and a smile spread over his face. “Thank you, Verna.”

“Tell me again what he said when he left?” Rosie asked Bradley, as she blotted her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

They were all standing inside the small room Rosie had used to get dressed. Bradley had informed the minister things were going to be a little later than expected and then he found Mary in the lobby. Together they broke the news to Rosie.

“He just said he remembered what Verna wanted and that he loved you,” Bradley repeated. “I’m sorry, Rosie, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mary wrapped her arms around Rosie. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” she said. “I’m sure that he will be back in just a few minutes.”

Rosie sniffed. “He’s been gone for fifteen minutes,” she said, her voice quivering. “The poor organist is running out of music. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Darling, what you’re going to do is have faith in the man you love,” Ian said.

Rosie turned and looked at him. “But he left…”

Ian shook his head. “Rosie, you know that Stanley and I rarely see eye to eye, but I will tell you one thing I know, Stanley is a man of honor. He would not leave you stranded at the altar. If he’s gone, it’s for a damn good reason.”

Stanley cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway of the room and they all turned around. “I thank you, Ian,” he said. “I thought it was important, or I wouldn’t have left, I swear Rosie.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“I’ve got something for you, Rosie,” he said, walking towards her, “something that Verna wanted me to remember.”

“Would you both like a moment alone?” Ian asked.

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Once they left the room, Stanley reached into his pocket and pulled out a strand of pearls.

“Oh, Stanley, they are beautiful,” Rosie said.

“These pearls belonged to my great-grandmother. They’ve been passed down to new brides through every generation,” Stanley explained. “Verna got them on our wedding day.”

Rosie stepped back. “But these belong to her, or to one of your children,” she said.

He shook his head. “When Verna was sick, she told me that someday I would find someone special. Someone I could love again, with all my heart. She told me she wanted her to have these pearls,” he explained. “That’s what she wanted me to remember. She wanted you to have these.”

He moved behind her, laid the pearls over her neck and fastened the clasp. Then he pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. “I love you, Rosie,” he said.

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And I love you too Stanley,” she whispered, her voice overcome with emotion. “Let’s get married.”

He smiled and kissed her one more time. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

The bus station was enormous.
E-N-O-R-M-O-U-S
, Clarissa thought. There had to be hundreds of people running back and forth, rushing to catch their bus. Although everyone seemed to be in a very friendly mood; laughing and patting each other on the back. Clarissa decided she liked St. Patrick’s Day.

They had taken a city bus to the subway station and taken the subway train to downtown and then walked six blocks to the bus station. Clarissa’s feet hurt and she was hungry and tired. She thought about the food they left in their refrigerator in the apartment and her stomach growled. Her mother told her they were playing a game. They were going to make people think something happened to them, like they died and disappeared. That way, the bad man would stop looking for them. So, they left some of their clothes and all of their food and locked up the apartment like they were planning on coming back.

The big clock at the end of the terminal said it was eight o’clock. Clarissa knew their bus to Florida didn’t leave until two o’clock in the morning, so they had to stay in the station for six hours. Clarissa hoped there was something to eat at the station.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Becca said. “Let’s go sit down on those benches over there.”

Most of the wooden benches in the middle of the station were empty. Becca led Clarissa over to a bench near the ticket booth and they piled their belongings next to them and sat down.

“Mommy, can we get something to eat?” she asked. “I’m a little bit hungry.”

Becca reached into her purse and pulled out a small package of Saltine crackers. “Here, darling, why don’t you eat these,” she said. “Then you should take a nap. We can buy some food when we get closer to Florida.”

Clarissa opened the cellophane wrapper and pulled the two crackers out. She took tiny bites, eating around the edges of the crackers to make them last longer. But in a few minutes they were gone and her stomach still felt empty.

Becca placed her arm around Clarissa and pulled her close. “Now, get some rest, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Two o’clock isn’t for a very long time.”

Clarissa cuddled close to her mother, placed her head on her lap and drifted to sleep. In the back of her mind she could hear her mother’s occasional cough and the familiar sound was actually soothing.

Becca stroked her daughter’s hair and tried to force oxygen into her lungs. The last couple of blocks had been so hard, she thought she was going faint a number of times. But somehow they made it and soon they would be safe.

She slowly looked around the bus station. Ever since they left their apartment, she had the feeling someone was watching them. She decided to take the less direct route, just to throw anyone off their path. But, even now, she didn’t feel safe.

She coughed again and lifted her hand to wipe away the moisture on her lips. Her heart dropped when she saw her hand was covered with blood. She reached into her purse once again, pulled out her plastic bag of pills and swallowed two of them.
That should do the trick
, she thought.
If one is good, two must be better.

The newlyweds were happily moving from one table to the next, greeting friends and taking photos.