Keys To Redemption Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Today was not a good day.

  For three years now Evie Tyrell’s days fell into one of two categories: Good days and bad days. Today was a bad day.

  She’d gotten yet another call at work from her son, Jamie’s school regarding his behavior. This time he had bitten another student. Fortunately for her, he was only three years old and in pre-school so would not be suspended. But the director of Little Angels pre-school made it quite clear to her that Jamie was not a little angel and that she needed to get his behavior under control or seek another placement at a different pre-school. And because when it rains it pours, on top of Jamie’s behavior problems, it had been absolute chaos at her job. The Joint Commission was evaluating her area of the hospital and not only were her patients particularly challenging today, but her supervisor had been riding all of the staff pretty hard.

  It was now four o’clock in the afternoon and she was only now getting home from work. A reporter from the Los Angeles Times newspaper was due over to the house in half an hour. She groaned as she stuck her key into the front door, wondering why she agreed to this interview.

  “I’m home!” Evie called out once she was inside. She slipped out of her Crocs and dropped her purse onto the end table by the door.

  “Sssshh!” Madeleine Crown, Evie’s mother, said as she came rushing into the living room with her index finger pressed to her lips.

  “Is he sleeping?” questioned Evie.

  “Yes, thank God. He didn’t take a nap today and he’s been running around this house like a mad man all afternoon.”

  Evie couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s disheveled appearance.

  “How was work?” Madeleine asked, walking into their small kitchen and opening the refrigerator door.

  “Terrible. Hopefully the Joint Commission will be gone by tomorrow. Thanks for picking Jamie up from school for me today. Did Ms. Cathie give you a hard time?” Evie plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs and rested her chin in her hands.

  “You know she did, but I can handle her,” Madeleine said as she removed a package of ground beef from one of the refrigerator shelves.

  “I’m glad one of us can.”

  “Well, for all of Ms. Cathie’s faults, you do have to admit that little boy of ours is something else. He’s a spitting image of his father, but certainly does not have his calm temperament.”

  A familiar wave of sadness washed over Evie. Jamie did look exactly like his father—beautiful brown skin, large brown eyes, a sharp nose, high cheek bones and unruly black hair; that is, until James cut his all off right before he died. My God, how she missed that man.

  “So, when is this reporter coming?” Her mother asked, pulling her out of her depressing thoughts before she could begin to spiral downwards.

  Evie glanced at her watch. “Oh…um she should be here in about thirty minutes.”

  “I don’t know why they want to do a story on James three years later,” said Madeleine. “Something just doesn’t feel right. If they start asking questions that are too personal, I’m cutting the interview short and kicking the reporter out. I’m giving you fair warning.”

  Evie smiled. Her mother was one of the kindest women she knew, but she could turn into a ferocious Mama Bear when it came to her family. She watched as Madeleine separated the ground beef and began forming hamburger patties.

  “Hamburgers again?”

  Madeline nodded. “I know when Jamie wakes up he’s going to be hungry and with him being such a picky eater I figured I’d make it easier on all of us and fix him something I know he’ll eat.”

  “But hamburgers two nights in a row? He has you wrapped around his finger, Mama.”

  “Oh hush,” her mother chided. “Before I forget, I was over at Linda’s today.”

  “Mmhmm.” Evie muttered, closing her eyes and wishing she could just crawl into her bed and not get up for the next few days.

  “We got to talking about our grandkids while I was there, and you know she has two grown grandsons. One is your age.”

  Evie’s eyes slid open and she regarded her mother through narrowed lids. She did not like the direction this conversation was headed.

  “Her oldest grandson, Carson, is an accountant. Works for some big law firm in downtown LA. She showed me his picture, and I must say that man is good looking.”

  “Where are you going with this, Mama?”

  “I was just thinking, maybe it would be nice if we invited Linda and her grandson over for dinner one night so that you can meet him.”

  Evie slid her eyes back closed. “I don’t think so,” she muttered.

  “Evie, it’s been three years now. Plenty of time for you to meet a nice man, get married, maybe give me some more grandchildren.”

  Evie sat up suddenly, feeling even more tired than she had when she first walked in the house.

  “I know it’s been three years, but I’m still not ready to start dating. Every time I look at Jamie all I see is James. All I ever think about is James. Some days are better than others, but I just can’t imagine bringing somebody into my complicated mess right now.”

  Her mother had stopped forming the hamburger patties by then and was watching her intently.

  “The reason you feel like that is because you’re still holding on to James’ death and all of the hurt that came with it. You haven’t given it to the Lord yet.”

  “Mama, I’ve come to terms with God on this whole thing.”

  “There’s a difference between coming to terms with God on something and letting Him heal you of something, honey.”

  “I’m just not as strong of a Christian as you are.”

  Madeleine’s eyes crinkled at the corner as she smiled at her daughter.

  “Honey, don’t fool yourself. You are, you just don’t know it yet.”

  The ringing of the doorbell interrupted their conversation. Madeleine immediately rushed for it.

  “I will throttle that woman if she wakes up Jamie, I swear it. Then she can write an article about that.” Evie chuckled at her mother’s comments, still she could not get her mother’s words about not being able to let go of James’ death out of her head.

  Evie sat staring at the polished journalist who was intent on trying to make her relive events from three years ago. James’ death had not garnered very much national attention, so she could not understand why this woman had been so insistent upon writing a news article about her husband’s death.

  “Ms. Tyrell, how do you feel about your husband’s death not gaining national attention? Do you wish it had?” Ms. King asked, tapping her pin against a small notebook in her hand.

  Evie frowned at the woman. She had asked this exact same question at least twice since sitting down with her, just in a different format. Clearly, Jasmine King was not one of the LA Times’ better staff reporters. If she was she would have concluded that Evie did not want to answer the question. If her choice to settle with the Los Angeles Police Department out of court and refrain from interviews all these years were not indicators, her demeanor during the interview should have been.

  “No,” Evie said tiredly.

  “Why not?” Ms. King shot back. “Don’t you think a case like your husband’s could have been a catalyst for shining light on racism, prejudice and the sheer brutality of the Los Angeles Police Department?”

  Evie exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “To put in plainly Ms. King, I had just given birth and was in no position to take up such a cause. I had just lost my husband and my child’s father. I was not interested in having James’ death become the catalyst for anything at that point.”

  Ms. King paused for a moment as if waiting for her to further elaborate, but Evie said nothing else. The woman looked to be not much older than Evie. She was a well put together African-American woman who knew how to dress to accentuate that fact, but she was pushy and slightly overbearing, almost making Evie wish that her mother would just strangle th
e woman like she had threatened.

  “Next question?” Evie finally said after a long, awkward silence.

  “Can you tell me how much you settled out of court for with the Los Angeles Police Department? It was an undisclosed amount.”

  Evie sucked in a sharp breath. If it was one thing she didn’t like talking about more than James’ death it was the money she received for it. When they awarded her the money she opened up a separate account and immediately placed the money in it for Jamie. She decided a long time ago that it was rightfully his. He would never know his father and he deserved something for that. He couldn’t touch it until he was twenty one, and she didn’t know when she would tell him about it. She wanted him to be smart with the money and do something good with it.

  “I prefer not to say,” Evie ground out. Ms. King pursed her lips in an apparent attempt to convey irritation.

  “From what I’ve heard it’s quite a large amount. I assume if you chose to, you probably would not have to work anymore. Why is it you’re still working as a registered nurse and still living this modestly?”

  Evie grit her teeth. This woman truly did not understand.

  Madeline, who was now coming into the room from the kitchen and by her body language apparently had enough, intervened. “That is enough, Ms. King. I think you’ve gotten all of the information you need.”

  “No Mama, it’s fine,” Evie said as she put her hand up to stop her mother from descending on the woman.

  “It’s a simple question,” Ms. King stated non-pulsed. Evie looked carefully at the woman, and as she examined her she attempted to put herself in the reporter’s shoes. She knew this story would probably earn the woman some points with her newspaper editor, and she knew she wasn’t helping by being very uncooperative.

  Despite Evie’s own reservations, she decided to give Ms. King something she could write about. She sat forward and eyed the woman.

  “Ms. King, the love of my life was shot and killed on the streets of Los Angeles because he was an African-American reaching for his wallet in his car. I was given a bunch of money to make up for that. But it really doesn’t matter you see, because nothing will bring James back to me. And no amount of money will ever let my son know his father. I could go out and buy myself a big pretty house in Beverly Hills, buy myself a Mercedes Benz or a Rolls Royce. I could hire maids, a nanny, and pretty much do whatever I want for the rest of my life if I handled the money wisely. But none of that would make up for what happened, and none of that is what I really want. So, why spend money on stuff that won’t make me happy or bring back my husband? The money will go to my son—our son. He can do what he sees fit with it when he comes of age. There now, does that answer your question?”

  Evie could tell the reporter was taken aback by her little speech and needed time to gather herself. She watched as the woman smoothed out her pencil skirt and adjusted her silk blouse—she even adjusted herself in the chair she was sitting in.

  When she finally made eye contact, Evie could tell her whole demeanor had shifted.

  “You’re a wise woman, Ms. Tyrell,” Ms. King suddenly said. This confused Evie. “Did you ever read the police reports regarding your husband’s incident?”

  Evie had skimmed over the sketchy reports about her husband’s death but they had given her absolutely no closure and it had been painful to read some of those details.

  Before she could answer, Ms. King barreled on. “What if I told you that police report wasn’t entirely correct?”

  At this Evie stilled.

  “What?” questioned Evie’s mother.

  Ms. King peered between the two of them.

  “What if I told you that there was another officer there that night that took part in the incident, but his involvement was swept under the rug because of his connections.”

  Upon hearing this Evie’s breath stopped, and for a moment she couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  “What are you saying, Ms. King?” Madeleine asked.

  “I’m saying that all kinds of things go on in the police department and so many things are covered up. Officer Timothy Walker did shoot and kill your husband but Officer…”

  “Stop!” Evie suddenly cried. The impulsive reaction startled Ms. King, causing her to flinch and sit back.

  “Don’t say another word. I can’t hear this. It took me a long time to learn not to hate the officer responsible. Don’t you dare give me another name to hate,” Evie hissed.

  Ms. King’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t know your real motivation for being here, but you need to leave.”

  “But Ms. Tyrell, if I were you I would definitely want to know.”

  “That’s the difference between me and you,” Evie said. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Ms. King, let me escort you out,” Madeleine offered motioning to the door.

  “Good-bye Ms. King.” Evie rose up and left the room without even waiting for her mother to show the woman out.

  Ten minutes later, Evie stood in her son’s bedroom, watching his tiny form rise up and down under a mound of blankets.

  Another officer was involved in her husband’s death? No. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought. She couldn’t. It had taken her a long time for her to let God remove the hatred out of her heart for the responsible officer, Timothy Walker. How many nights had she lain awake in her bed, crying into her pillow and cursing his name? Now she was being told that there was another man who had taken part in her husband’s murder, one who had gotten away scot-free? How did she know that Ms. King had even spoken the truth? How would the reporter even know that information about another officer being present at the scene?

  Evie watched as Jamie stirred then settled down. “What am I doing God?” she thought. She wished she could say that it was the reporter’s visit that brought everything back to surface for her again, but the truth was the pain never left. It was always there, under the surface, pushing on her and pulling at her. All Ms. King did was make her talk about it today. As she turned to walk out of her son’s room a sudden thought occurred. It was so clear and poignant that it stunned her for a moment. It was a Bible verse she could remember reading somewhere at some point in time. She had no idea what chapter it was in, and probably wouldn’t be able to open a Bible and find it to save her life. But for some reason it came to her so crystal clear in that moment, that she knew it had come from God. ‘Cast your cares upon Him, because his burden is light and His yoke is easy.’ It sounded so simple, but for her almost impossible to do.