Baby Love (63 page)

              "I know that Trey."

              "So you also know that if this fertilization process is successful which is not 100% guaranteed that child will be nothing more than a niece or nephew to me or to Tristan right?"

              "Yes, I know," I replied.

              "Okay then.  I just wanted to make sure that you and I are on the same page with that."

              "We are," I replied, kissing him back.

              His hands moved to my silk pajama top; he unbuttoned it and pulled me up so that he could remove it.  His hands caressed my breasts and nipples.  He lowered his head to them; his tongue traced around my nipples in a circular motion.

              He moved southward, pulling my panties down and allowing his tongue to explore the soft folds of my womanhood.  His hands gently pushed my legs apart; his fingers worked their magic inside of me. 

              I pushed against Trey wanting him on his back.  He complied.  I knelt between his legs, spreading them with my hands as I took his erect manhood into my mouth.  I went from head to root, taking all of him into my mouth; my tongue swirled and around and around the length of him.

              He moaned with pleasure; his hips gyrated against my mouth.  His hands reached down cupping my face between them.  He wanted me on top.  I complied.

              I climbed on top of him.  He guided his shaft into me gently.  He placed his other hand on the small of my back lowering me down onto him.

              "Mmmm," I moaned feeling his fullness within me.

              "You like that baby?" he asked, his lips finding mine.

              "You know that I do Trey," I whispered against his lips.

              "You know that it's yours baby," he said, "Yours and only yours."

              "I know Trey."

              He rocked me up and down; both of his hands now braced on my hips to allow him to rotate me in a back and forth motion as his thrusting increased.

              "Baby you feel so good," he moaned, "No one has ever made me come like you do.  No one ever could," he said, his lips crushing mine as his thrusting increased steadily.

              "I love you Tylar; I never want to lose you."

              "You never will Trey; you are mine."

              Our orgasms came crashing down around us then; it was all about us and only us at that moment.  It was about the love that we had for one another.  We both cried out as we came at the same time.  We laid there for several minutes totally spent from our lovemaking. Trey kissed my lips; telling me how sweet I was and how much he loved me.

              Afterwards Trey wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up against his warm, naked body.  From down the hallway I heard Gina yell, 'That's not fair!'

              Trey chuckled pulling me close and we fell asleep.

_________________________________________

              The following morning Trey walked me in to the terminal at the small private airport.  The pilot was already there waiting for me in the lounge. 

              Trey hugged and kissed me telling me that he would be back to pick me up later that afternoon.

              "I'll be thinking about you," he called after me as I started to walk out the glass door that led to the tarmac.

              "You better be," I called back waving to him.             

              My father was there waiting for me at the municipal airfield in Baton Rouge where we landed.  It was not far from downtown Baton Rouge.

              My father explained that Matthew's arraignment would be held in the 19th Judicial Court that was downtown.  He said that the proceeding itself would not take long.  He was interested in seeing Matthew again.

              My father made no secret of his contempt for the man.  I was curious to see as to whether he looked familiar to me after all of these years. 

              The courthouse was similar to the one where my father sat the bench.  He led me to the courtroom where the arraignment was to be held.  We still had another forty-five minutes or so before the proceedings began.  I needed a comfort break.  I told my father I was going to find a restroom and would be back in a few.

              Once out in the hallway I saw signs for the restrooms.  I was thankful that the hallways in this courthouse did not wind around like a maze like the other one had.  I was fairly certain I would be able to find my way back to my father.

              When I located the 'Ladies' room I noticed one of the stalls was already occupied.  I took the empty one next to it.  As I sat down to pee I noticed the feet and ankles of whoever occupied the next stall.  There was something very familiar about those . . .ankles.  Then it came to me.  Those were the same thick ankles that I recalled Ms. Deeny having.

              I tried to hurry my stream but it did no good.  The thick-ankled occupant in the next stall had finished up, flushed and left the restroom without washing her hands.

             
(Eewwww!)

              I finished up making sure that I washed my hands properly.  That had been so weird.  I was sure that there were other people with thick ankles like that in the greater Baton Rouge area.

              When I returned to the courtroom I saw that my father was talking to a man sitting at one of the front tables that was in a suit.  I took a seat and my father returned several moments later.

              "I just talked to the D.A.," he said to me.

              "Apparently Matthew has been uncooperative with his attorney.  He won't talk to him."

              "What do you mean?"

              "Oh I've seen it done before many times.  The accused is trying to appear as if he or she is not competent to stand trial for reasons of mental illness."

              "Do you think that his attorney is coaching him to do that?"

              "Not unless he is asking to be disbarred," he replied. 

              "Anyway, this particular attorney that was retained for him is from a respectable firm.  I would doubt very much if he would contrive such behavior as a defense."

              This should be interesting I thought as the courtroom started filling up.  It was near ten a.m.  Trey and Tristan's appointment was in another half hour.  I pushed that from my mind.

              The bailiff came out and called the court to order.  Everyone stood up as the Honorable Judge Lance Pelletier took the bench.  He instructed everyone to be seated.

              The first case called was Matthew Renaud's.  A door on the left side of the court room opened and two deputies escorted a hand-cuffed and shackled man into the room.  He was in typical prison garb.  I studied him carefully.  I recognized him as the same man that had been at our home in Radcliff, Kentucky all those years ago.  The man from my first memory when I was on my swing set.  The man that had yelled at Maggie referring to me as the 'golden goose' or some such name.

              He was taken to the table where his defense attorney had risen, holding the chair next to him out so that Matthew could be seated.  Matthew's head turned looking around the courtroom.  For some reason I hunkered down in my seat not wanting him to recognize me.  I realized I was being paranoid.  I had been five years old the last time he saw me.

              "Are you alright?" my father whispered to me.

              I nodded just as Matthew's eyes found me and stopped looking anywhere else.  His gaze rested on me and I saw a flicker of recognition pass over his face. 

              I squirmed in my seat uncomfortable with him staring at me.  His lawyer nudged him and he reluctantly turned back around lowering his head as if it was too heavy to hold up any longer.

              The bailiff read all of the additional charges the grand jury had returned against Matthew.  The judge was watching Matthew the whole time; studying his body language I guessed.  When the bailiff finished the judge spoke.

              "How does the defendant plead to all charges herein set forth?"

              Matthew's attorney rose from his seat.

              "Ted Presley for the defense, your honor.  I would like to enter a not guilty plea on behalf of my client to all charges."

              "Very well Mr. Presley. The court will set the preliminary hearing for an expedited date since your client is being held without bail," the judge responded.

              "Your honor if it pleases the court, the defense would ask to waive the pre-trial investigation and dispose of the preliminary hearing now as my client is in dire need of psychiatric treatment which will further deteriorate by further delay."

              "Mr. Presley, I'm not a big fan of waiving any portion of the due process in particular when there is a potential death penalty involved.  The appellate courts are overwhelmed as it is. Counsel please approach the bench."

              I watched as the D.A. and Matthew's attorney went up to talk quietly to the judge.

              "What is going on?" I whispered to my dad.

              "The judge is going to force the due process to avoid costly appeals later.  He is trying to ascertain why the defense would waive the pre-trial investigation prior to the preliminary hearing.  The purpose of the preliminary hearing is to make sure that the evidence supports the charges brought against the defendant as recommended by the grand jury," he whispered back to me.

              Matthew was looking around the courtroom again.  His eyes went past me this time focusing to the back of the courtroom.  He turned back around burying his head into his cuffed hands.  The lawyers were still talking quietly to the judge.  The courtroom had become very quiet.

              Suddenly the quiet of the courtroom was interpreted by a man's voice singing.  I realized that the singing was coming from Matthew.  He was singing that old lullaby very slowly and loudly.

              'Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird; and if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring. . ."

              The defense lawyer hurried over to Matthew's side prompting him to be quiet.  He paid no attention to his attorney and continued to sing the lyrics even louder.

              "If that diamond ring turns brass, Mama's going to buy you a looking glass. . . If that looking glass gets broke, Mama's going to buy--"

              The judge rapped his gavel and shouted for the deputies to remove Matthew from the court room immediately.

              Matthew stopped singing as the deputies literally raised him up from his chair.  He struggled against them; he whipped his head around as they were carrying him toward the door.  His eyes found what they had been searching for.

              "Mama," he yelled, "Mama, am I still the sweetest baby in town?"

              I turned quickly to see who the hell he was talking to; his mother had been my grandmother.  She was dead.  I looked through the crowd as the short, dark-haired woman watched them take Matthew out.  Tears were streaming down the face of Karen Deeny.  She turned and fled the courtroom.

              I heard my father beside me.

              "What the hell?"

              I was in shock.  What the hell was going on?

              My father took me by the arm and led me out of the court house.

              "I don't understand what that was all about," I said to him once we were outside.

              "I am in the dark as well," he replied, clearly as perplexed as me.

              "What happens now, Dad?"

              "Obviously I need to get some answers for both of us.  As far as the preliminary hearing I would suspect it will be scheduled after the psych evaluation the judge will likely order for Matthew."

              "Do you think he was faking it?" I asked.

              "Yes, but my opinion doesn't matter.  It is the opinion of the psychologists and psychiatrists that will carry the weight in court.  The prosecution will have one assigned to him as will the defense; that in and of itself will be a complicated mess."

              I could tell that my father was distraught with the turn of events that had transpired at the courthouse.  I knew he wondered now just how much his dead wife had been involved in the tangled web of lies and deceit.  I questioned my own ancestors as to why Matthew had been passed off as my grandmother's illegitimate child adopted by my grandfather after they married.  If anyone could find the truth I knew that my father could and would no matter what it revealed.

              We had lunch together and then he drove me to the private airport to catch my charter back to Atlanta.  He pulled me to him giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

              "I will talk to you very soon," he promised.

              "Please give Preston a kiss from her grandpa?"