Chapter 5 - The Unfinished Vows
The historic chapel in Savannah was decorated with thousands of dollars worth of white roses and peonies.
A string quartet played softly in the background as the city’s elite gathered to celebrate the union of the "tragic widower" and his beautiful new bride.
Arthur stood at the altar,
beaming in a custom tuxedo,
looking like the happiest man on earth.
Julianna was at the back of the church,
preparing to walk down the aisle in a gown that cost more than my station wagon.
The doors opened,
and the music swelled.
But it wasn't Julianna who walked in.
It was me.
I walked down the center aisle,
wearing my old dress blues,
my back straight and my medals polished.
Beside me were Lucy,
Rachel,
and April,
all dressed in the black dresses they had worn to their mother’s funeral.
The guests began to whisper,
the music faltering as I reached the halfway point.
Arthur’s smile vanished,
replaced by a look of sheer,
unadulterated panic.
“Charles!”
he hissed,
stepping off the altar.
“What are you doing?
Get out of here!”
“I’m here to deliver a wedding gift,
Arthur,”
I said,
my voice carrying to the very back of the chapel.
I held up the purple cloth bag.
“Rose wanted you to have this.”
Two men in dark suits stepped out from behind the altar.
They weren't part of the wedding party.
They were detectives from the Savannah Police Department.
“Arthur Vance?”
one of them asked,
producing a set of handcuffs.
“You’re under arrest for insurance fraud,
conspiracy to commit murder,
and the endangerment of minors.”
Julianna started to scream from the back of the church,
but she was met by two more officers who were holding up a warrant for her own arrest as an accomplice.
The guests stood in stunned silence as the "perfect" groom was led down the aisle in chains,
his face a mask of sweating,
ugly terror.
He looked at his daughters as he passed them,
perhaps looking for a shred of pity.
Lucy simply held up her mother’s framed photograph.
“You said we were a sacrifice,
Arthur,”
she said,
her voice cold and clear.
“But you were the one who got burned.”
The church cleared out in a matter of minutes,
the socialites fleeing the scandal as if the building were on fire.
I stood at the altar with my granddaughters,
surrounded by the white roses that Arthur had bought with Rose’s stolen money.
“Is it over,
Grandpa?”
April asked,
reaching for my hand.
“It’s over,
sweetheart,”
I said.
A week later,
the exhumation and toxicological report confirmed Rose’s suspicions.
The high levels of sedatives in her system were enough to prove that Arthur had been slowly poisoning her to keep her compliant while he drained her accounts.
The merger he had been planning collapsed,
and his assets were seized by the state to be held in trust for the girls.
We moved out of the marsh cottage and back into Rose’s big house,
the one Arthur had tried to sell.
We filled it with light,
with music,
and with the memories of a mother who had loved her children enough to fight for them even from the grave.
Every year on the anniversary of the funeral,
we go back to the cemetery.
We don't bring lilies.
We bring purple flowers.
And we tell Rose about the girls’ grades,
their dreams,
and the fact that they are thriving in a world without the man who tried to break them.
Arthur and Julianna are currently serving life sentences in separate prisons,
unlikely to ever see the sun without bars in front of it again.
As I sit on the porch in Savannah,
watching my granddaughters play in the yard,
I realize that Rose was right.
A new beginning is a powerful thing.
But a just ending is even better.
The notebook is closed,
the recordings are silent,
and the purple bag is finally empty.
May you like
But our hearts are full.
The end.
