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    C. Henderson
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

In Our Darkness - 23. Chapter 23: New Bonds

Kat always thought doing the right thing came naturally to good people. You know what the right thing is, if you’re a good person then you feel it in your bones. You don’t have to think about it, it’s obvious, it’s instinctual. But months after she turned Jack Miller in for the homicide of his son, Paul Miller, she still didn’t know if she had done the right thing. It didn’t feel right. Doing the right thing should be clear and straightforward, so why was she drowning in guilt and doubt over her actions?

She wanted to quit. What was the point of doing this, when right or wrong were no longer clear concepts? She lost that special feeling that made her get out of bed in the morning with a sense of purpose. She no longer knew what side she was on. What Jack did was clearly so very wrong, yet he wasn’t a bad person. Murder was horrible, but killing your own son was a special kind of horrible. But Jack spent his whole life trying to help others. She couldn’t swallow the contradiction.

In the end, Jack was sentenced to 22 years in prison for his son’s murder. Kat worried endlessly about him being targeted by other prisoners, after all it’s not like Jack was known for being warm and fuzzy or for being friendly to criminals. She had a hard time coming to grips with his fate.

Those fears turned out to be completely unfounded because when she visited Jack, he seemed in better spirits than she expected. And six months into his sentence, he not only looked good, but he seemed to be lively and with purpose. She quickly realized that he was actually quite popular with the other inmates, whom he often gave legal advice to.

But she still had some unanswered questions that plagued her, and during one of her visits she decided to ask him point blank.

“Why did you do it?” It was a simple question, but Jack took his time thinking about it.

“I brought him into this world. He turned out no good, so it’s only right that I took him out of it as well. He was a menace to society.”

“He was a drug addict and an alcoholic who did some terrible things. But you tore him out of bed in his underwear and shot him point blank in the head. Why didn’t you just take him in and have the judge decide what to do with him?”

“Why, so he could be a burden to the state? He wasn’t right, Kat. He was…bad.”

“He could have changed.”

“People don’t change.”

“He was your son.”

“And therefore my responsibility. I did the justice system a favor. One less criminal to worry about.”

“We don’t get to make those choices, Jack.”

“Maybe. Then again maybe we do. People die everyday.”

“It’s murder.”

“Is it? Even if it’s a pedophile? Even if it’s a child killer?”

“Murder is murder,” she repeated his words to him. Jack looked at her and smiled but remained silent for a long while.

“I’m proud of you Bryce. You’ll make a good detective after all.”

 

***

 

It was a big surprise to the old florist when he saw the man he knew as David walk into his store hand-in-hand with a beautiful brunette woman. David, who was now uncharacteristically clean shaven, always mentioned having a wife, but in the many years that he continued coming the florist had never seen her. This wasn’t unusual, after all he was coming here to presumably buy surprise floral arrangements for her. But still, it was shocking to finally see Elisabeth Andrews in the flesh. The florist smiled and handed David the same bouquet of white daisies that he’d been buying for the past 13 years, and he thought of what a sweet woman she must be to enjoy such simple flowers.

After they left the store, and after they dropped off the flowers at the site of the accident, David and Elisabeth drove to a cemetery, and made their way to a grave. The dirt was still fresh. The grave didn’t have a headstone yet. It was Paul Miller’s last resting place.

After a while, David spoke, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened on the night that you killed my son. 13 years worth of time to be exact. 13 years spent wondering what happened and why it happened. You resumed your life, unpunished, while everyday I punished myself with the thoughts of what I could have done differently to prevent the events of that night. How I could have chosen a different car, a different route, a different time to leave. Or how perhaps I should have never left home in the first place. A million little deeds, each one possibly changing the outcome of that horrible night that I’ll never forget.”

“My wife knew this from day one, but it took me 13 years to figure out that no matter what I would have changed, the only action that mattered that night was the one you took. Our son wasn’t born yet, but he was deeply loved, and invaluable, and cherished beyond words. We will never forgive you for taking him away. But now that you’re gone, I realize that I don’t need to dole out my own justice, because sin is its own punishment. And it destroys the sinner. Although we have hated you for 13 years, and although we could think of nothing better than your murder, we would have never actively chosen that path for you. Because our son represented pure light, joy, and happiness, we would never dishonor his memory by choosing any malignant conduct towards you.”

“But now, another man is paying the price for taking your life. Although we will never forgive or forget, we choose to move on from you and all the pain you have brought us. May God have mercy on your soul,” he said, then turned to see if Elisabeth had anything to add, only to realize that she was silently crying.

“Are you okay?” he asked, putting his arm around her.

“Yes. You just said that exactly what I would have wanted to say, but couldn’t. Thank you.” He held her, and it felt natural to have her in his arms again. Something he hadn’t experienced since Andrew’s death.

David thought about how long he’d been holding onto his anger, and how the anger propelled him day after day. Night after night. Pure anger, and a need to get revenge, completely obliterating every other rational thought and possible desire in his life. Making him a slave to his rage, unable to appreciate anything else around him. He had wasted so many years being angry. The only good thing he could remember from the past year was his friendship with Andy.

In the throes of his anger, David couldn’t have imagined everything Andy went through during his childhood. He couldn’t comprehend the suffering of a little boy living with a huge secret. A boy who was abused and betrayed by those very people who were supposed to be there for him, to protect him, love him, cherish him, just as David would have done for his own son. Andy was not a villain in this, he was just as much a victim as David and Elisabeth.

After the cemetery, David drove to a Mexican restaurant and asked Elisabeth to wait a few minutes in the car before coming in. He went inside and ordered a plate of food, then sat down and waited. Not a moment later, Andy walked in. David spotted him right away and waved him over, and the young man in the black hoodie approached him slowly while fidgeting with his fingers.

“I got you a chicken quesadilla,” he said pushing forward the plate of food. Andy sat down cautiously and slowly, as if he was ready for David to attack him at any moment. But David just looked at him, sitting there in his old washed-out hoodie, with a crappy haircut and dirty jeans. Just 19 years old yet looking like he’d been through Vietnam.

“Thank you,” the boy mumbled and took a small and careful bite of his food. The chicken quesadilla tasted delicious, but he was still wary. Was David trying to feed him and then kill him? Or did he maybe already poison the food? Or was he being nice to make Andy feel even worse about the whole situation. Because if so, it was working. But David continued to sit there and watch Andy eat. And when he finally finished, he asked the boy if he wanted another one. Andy politely declined. There was only so much goodwill he could accept from the man whose child he was partly responsible for killing.

“There is a reason I invited you here, Andy,” David began, and Andy’s body stiffened. He sat listening carefully. He deserved to hear whatever terrible words David had to say to him. “And the reason is, I would like to apologize for my behavior the last time I saw you.” Andy thought he must have misheard. What could David possibly have to apologize for? He was the one who should be apologizing, and probably forever.

“Uhh, you have nothing to apologize for,” he mumbled out, embarrassed.

“I do, I really do. Listen, the way I treated you in anger, it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t the right thing to do. I was very emotional, my nerves have just been fried for the past couple of years, and I’m incredibly sorry for how I approached you. And I want you to know, Elisabeth and I have talked about this, and we’re both so sorry that you had to go through this, and we want you to know that neither one of us blames you for anything that happened that night or since. You were just a kid, and you’ve had to carry this with you all this time. And I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. We’re just both so grateful you stepped forward.”

Andy sat there completely unsure of whether he was dreaming or if it was real. He had been hoping for this moment for so many years, but never in his wildest imagination did he think it was actually going to happen. He felt a confusing warmth spread through his body. A sudden unimaginable lightness, almost like floating. Was this what forgiveness felt like?

“Also, I hope this is okay…I invited Elisabeth,” just as David said that, the beautiful brunette woman appeared in the doorway. Andy sat there stunned for a while, then finally got up when she made her way to him.

“Hi,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Hi,” she replied teary eyed, ignoring his outstretched hand and leaning in to hug him. He felt her thin arms hold him with an amazing strength. He hugged her back, and then something happened. He felt his eyes get watery, and the tears roll down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, but being held by this woman, this woman whose life he’d felt so guilty of ruining all these years, turned a switch in him. Here she was, comforting him, despite everything.

“I’m really sorry,” Andy mumbled into her fresh smelling hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she replied, and he sobbed even harder. The weight was lifting. The tight skeletal grip on his lungs, preventing him from ever getting a full breath, was loosening. He was finally forgiven.

David looked on as Elisabeth and Andy talked and cried and laughed. His heart felt content. It was a moment of happiness like he hadn’t experienced in years. He smiled, then looked out the window into the park across the street where golden foliage was scattered across the ground in abundance. And he remembered the vision he had of a boy throwing leaves up in the air and calling him papa. Then he saw the man in his vision hoist the boy up in the air—causing the little one to break into a fit of boyish laughter—and answer, “You are everything. My son.”

 

 

 

The End

Copyright © 2022 C. Henderson; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Poetic justice meeting six degrees of separation, and wrapped tightly in an emotional roller coaster. And beautifully written, to boot. I'm selfishly wishing it were just a little longer, not wanting a good read to end. Very selfish, indeed. Also, I'm sorry/not sorry in advance for being unforgiving, but I'm still angry at Celia, by the way... 😡🙄

 

Thank you! ❤

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