Page 29 of Justice

His final obligation was to have a few minutes alone to say his last goodbye. Father Simon offered to stand with him, but what he needed to say was not suitable for the good Father’s ears. While his priest understood, he also requested a final moment with Drake before he left.

Taking a single pink rose from the spray of flowers resting on the top of Deidre’s coffin, he knelt beside the mahogany wood, the bitter wind tossing his dark hair but oddly warming his soul. The snowflakes gaining ground as they blanketed the dead lawn under his knees, creating a softness in the air.

“I knew about Bremmer, all the times you slipped from my bed to lose yourself in his. I suppose you think you fooled me when I didn’t confront you about him, but you're wrong. You never fooled me; I just didn’t give a fuck. I was faithful to you, not because you deserved it, but because of the foundation, I stand on. Right or wrong, I will always have something solid to land on. You should know, your sister has made it clear she wants to step into your shoes, but she is as pathetic as you are and twice as greedy. As far as your shoes, the ones she wants to wear, they are being boxed up as I stand here, on their way to a woman’s shelter in South Boston.”

Rising to his feet, the air growing so much crisper, his ability to see so much clearer, and for the first time in forever, he feels happy. Tossing the rose on the ground beside the coffin, “Rot in Hell, Deidre. Maybe Satan can find you a good plastic surgeon, I hear he owns a multitude of souls.”

Drake turns from the grave, catching one of the caretakers silently laughing at what he had heard. He reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out his money clip and sliding off the top bill. “Here, what you heard stays here.”

The man standing with a shovel in his hands, his body resting against the handle, his thick overalls covered in dried mud, looks from the folded hundred back to Drake. Keeping his hands on the shovel, he shakes his head, “No, sir, can’t take your money. I hear this more than you think. Gentlemen like yourself taking his promise from the altar to the grave, then sayin’ what he needs to when the time is right. You did what God told you, let the Devil sort her out.”

Drake offers his hand to shake, giving him his business card and a promise if he ever needed anything, to come find him. As he makes his way to Father Simon, he notices Joanna talking animated on her phone. By the way, she is stomping her boot covered feet, someone has either told her no or denied her a loan.

“You all right, son?”

“Yes, Father, thank you.” He offers his hand, the hundred the caretaker wouldn’t accept slid into Father’s fingers.

“I know this is a difficult time, and I won’t keep you long, but there is something I must tell you now that you are no longer married.” Father stuffs the bill in his pocket and pushes his glasses, wet from the snow, back up his face. Drake notices movement to his left but refuses to look away, as he knows it will give Joanna permission to come and join the conversation.

“While the church believes, as you know, in the sanctity of marriage, it also believes in giving those who have experienced a loss, such as yourself, the opportunity to mourn properly.”

Drake tries to keep his focus on the silver hair of Father Simon, how his once red hair is now speckled with white, nearly solid around his temples. His banner of wisdom he once called it during a sermon. His kind blue eyes have grown cloudy since he has known him, but they still hold the kindness he shows everyone, regardless of stature.

“Loneliness is a hard companion to have. Sometimes it seems easier to have the wrong person in your life than to have no one in your life. For this reason, the church instructs us to forbid any marriage for one calendar year, after the loss of a spouse. If you choose to marry against the wishes of the church, your marriage would not be recognized and any children would not be eligible for baptism.”

“What about a Sororate marriage?” Joanna interrupts, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

“I’m sorry, my child, but the church is quite clear in its instruction of no marriage for one year.”

Drake raises a single eyebrow in a challenge to Joanna, not bothering to hide the victorious smile on his face.

“Father, thank you for the clarification and the beautiful eulogy. I would love to stick around and listen to Joanna present her case to you, but I have a meeting I must get to. If you will excuse me?”

Ignoring Joanna’s calls for him to come back, he climbs the short hill to his car, sliding into the buttery leather of his seat, and starts his engine.

The cloak of dread he woke with this morning has vanished. As he maneuvers through town, he celebrates the lighter feeling, and the ability to fill his needs, wants and desires. He is nearly to the condo he purchased a year after he married Deidre, a hidden sanctuary to escape her nagging and bitching, when his cell rings, the number on his dashboard one he doesn’t recognize. He contemplates ignoring it, but his good mood leaves him brazen.

“Hello?”

“Hannigan?”

“Who’s asking?” He barked, not comfortable with the familiarity the unknown caller had with him.

“Calm down, it’s me, Corbin. I have the files you requested.”

“Oh shit, man. Why aren’t you calling me from your regular number?” Corbin was a private investigator Drake hired to track down information on who was in the room when Deidre was killed.

“Long story, not one I feel like sharing. You want the files delivered or are you good with email?”

“You have me intrigued about this story of yours. Next time you’re in town, stop by, I’ll buy you a drink and you can tell me. Send the files to my email address, and text me the bill.”

Drake ends the call without a farewell, as he pulls into his private garage, his tires squealing in protest as he parks the car and takes the elevator to his condo. He has his tie dangling from his neck as the door opens, revealing the blonde sitting in the center of his sofa, just as he asked her to be.

Wrapped in a sable coat, her barrel curls frame her face, skin absent of makeup and the tanning shit Deidre used to wear. Drake told her to be naked, but considering the chill in the room, he will ignore the fur she is warming herself with.

He takes less than a handful of strides to reach her, dropping his coat and belt to the floor as he stands before her. It’s been a long time since he has enjoyed the pleasure of a woman, and for the next few hours, he will shut off the world and allow the lips of his girl for tonight, Sasha, remind him how wonderful a woman can be.

“Open,” he says, pulling his hard cock from his pants. Sasha watches as he runs his hand up and down his shaft, the half-smile on her face telling him she’s happy with what she sees.

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