June
8, 2028
Eau
Boueuse, Louisiana
Drizzle accentuated the melancholy the sea of black-clad
mourners felt. The haunting strains of the solitary bagpipe playing
"Amazing Grace" caused those in attendance to shiver. Police Chief
Raiford Reynolds rose and stood behind the flag-draped coffin. He caressed the
length of the casket and then looked up at the faces staring at him. "I"—He
shook his head—"I can't do it this time." Ray sat down, unable to
perform a eulogy and laid his head on his wife's shoulder.
Parker Reynolds left the place he had been
occupying with the honor guard and stood in the spot his father had vacated. He
looked at the faces in the throng.
The young man stroked the coffin with as much
love as the chief had before he spoke strangled words from his heart.
"Detective Christine Milovich Gautier—what can we
say about her? She was the consummate detective, very good at what she did. She
was a wife whose heart belonged to only one. She was a mother, always
supportive, offering unflinching guidance. She was a grandmother who doted on
her little ones. She was a friend who always spoke words of truth. She was an aunt
who accepted a displaced waif. She was strong and beautiful and unique, a
whimsical unicorn. She will be sorely missed."
Then he
vowed to catch the person who had murdered his aunt. "Aunt Chris, I
promise you justice will be served. I…I"—He
placed his white-gloved hand on his chest—"will find the heartless coward
who did this. I love you. I will see you again in the presence of angels and
our Savior. Until then, rest assured I will do that which I have promised." He returned to his place in
line.
The gun volley shattered the silence and
startled the mourners.
Family and friends of Christine
Milovich Gautier gathered at her home after the somber funeral in the rain. Her
husband, Raif, requested that her loved ones come to the house, not to weep and
mourn, but to celebrate a life worth living. The various groups throughout the
house shared memories of a woman who had touched their lives as they ate and
drank nourishment provided by the members of Charity Chapel, the church where
Raif and Chris had been members for twenty years.
Lazarus
Milovich remembered the courage and strength of his eldest child when at age
twelve she had shouldered the responsibility of being a mother to her six
younger siblings after her mother's death. Lazarus reminisced to the people
standing nearest him. "She had to grow up too fast. She always took such
good care of every one of us. She helped me so much. Without her, I'm sure I
wouldn't have been able to get all the others to adulthood." He looked
around to see his other six children in various conversations.
Though the air
conditioner ran full-blast, Lazarus, a native New Yorker, perspired heavily in
the Gulf-coastal humidity of Eau Boueuse, Louisiana. He pulled out a
handkerchief and wiped his bald pate and eyes of sweat, masking the tears he
could not stop. Gulping, he said, "Even in death she's still taking care
of us. This is the first time we've all been under the same roof since she and
Raif were married. I can't let that happen again. I promise, Chrissy."
He turned his
attention to a family photo of the Gautier family. It hung over the fireplace
that opened on two sides—the dining room and the family room. Noticing how much
his two granddaughters, Lindsay and Trista, resembled their mother and
him—mousy-brown hair and soft brown eyes—he placed his fingers to his lips and
then to Chris's face in the portrait. "I promise," he repeated. He
looked toward Trista as she sat far from the gathered crowd, head laid onto the
armrest of the chair her mother most often used.
Audrey Bertram
placed a hand on the forlorn father's shoulder. He patted her hand. She thought
about the first time she met Chris. A sad smile flickered across her face.
"I met her just a couple of days before she and Raif were married. She was
so beautiful. She never treated me
like a criminal even though I had just been paroled. To her, I was a woman who
had suffered. She and I had something in common."
She glanced
around the room to find her identical twin sons, one the widower of Chris
Gautier. "Both of us had been children who had children. I was thirteen
and she was fourteen. We connected on a truly spiritual level. I loved her so
much. She wasn't just my daughter-in-law; she was also my friend. She
encouraged me to give myself a chance to live and to fall in love. I'm so glad
she did because I've had a wonderful life with Walter."
"I agree
with my wife," said Walter Bertram. "Chris was amazing." He took
his wife's hand, kissed it, and looked into sapphire-blue eyes. "The first
time I met her, she was investigating Raif.
I think she fell in love with the man I described when she told me to
tell her everything I could about Raiford Gautier."
He dabbed the
top of his bald head with the napkin he held. "She never jumped to
conclusions. She weighed the evidence, and ninety-nine percent of the time, she
made the right decisions. She was the most logical female I ever met."
Moving into the
spacious, comfortable family room from the spotless, seldom-used formal living
room and overhearing Walter's last statement, Dorothy Reynolds laughed.
"Yes, she was. The most illogical thing she ever did was to fall in love
with Raif, but they were perfect together. I mean, when she met Raif, he was a
suspected serial killer, but her instinct told her he was innocent."
Dorothy's eyes
sought the two men who had the same first name, one of which she had adopted.
"And, boy! She sure could keep Ray in line. She was the best partner he
ever had. She never let him bully her. I knew when I met her she would be one
of my daughters-in-law. When she said Raif's name, her eyes danced." She
bowed her graying head and blew her nose, refusing to give way to sorrow.
"Yes,"
said Albert Reynolds, handing his wife a glass of Chablis and sipping his own.
"I first met her in the hospital after that Descartes debacle when both
Ray and Raif were in surgery. She was taking care of everybody, but the one
place she wanted to be was by Raif's side." The white-haired gentleman put
his arm around Dorothy. "One thing that I loved about Chris was that she
never let Dorothy intimidate her."
Dorothy
Reynolds gave her husband a scathing look. He laughed. "Face it, dear. You
can be intimidating, but Chris knew exactly how to handle you."
"Yes, she
did—with love."
"I was
just remembering Chris's sense of humor." Brian Baker, Chris's partner on
the Eau Boueuse police force for the last several years, walked up with a plate
of food he had made himself from the spread that was laid out in the kitchen,
breakfast nook, and dining room.
"Her wit
was sharp," Baker went on with a chuckle. "She never let anything
really ruffle her. One night Olivia and I were having dinner with Chris and
Raif. The place was packed. It took forever
for our server to come to the table so we could order cocktails. Chris
announced, 'I'm tired of waiting,' and went to the bar. It was only five feet
away, so even over the hubbub we could hear what she ordered, her normal mixed
drink, a sloe screw. The bartender looked right at her and said, 'I get off at
midnight.' Chris came right back with, 'Take it up with my husband. See what he
thinks.' Raif looked at the bartender and shook his head while saying, 'I think
not, but while you're making hers slow, make mine slow and comfortable.' Chris
came back with both drinks. She handed Raif his and said, 'Finish that fast so
we can go home. I'll show you slow and comfortable.' They left without
dinner."
Audrey laughed
again. "I know this might be weird to some, but since I'm only thirteen
years older than Chris is…was"—She shook her head and took a deep
breath—"we talked like girls do. I remember her telling me about the first
time she made love to my son. They skipped dinner that night too. When Raif
woke up and she was gone, he went to Ray and was willing to have Chris detained
as a possible terrorist at the airport."
She put a hand to her forehead.
"When she
told me that, I wanted to knock a knot on both men's heads," Audrey said. "It
all worked out. Lindsay had already talked to her and she was standing in the
doorway of Ray's office hearing the whole thing. Ray loved getting the upper
hand on Raif with Chris watching and listening. Oh, but they were so much in
love and married a month later." She bit her lip not to cry and pushed
damp blonde wisps of hair from her face.
Drifting to the
gathering group, Lawrence Dantzler, an FBI agent who had worked with Chris,
added with a chuckle, "She really loved Raif. When Ray and he traded
places to capture Latrice Descartes, I poured it on thick about when Chris and
I dated. The man I was talking to looked as if he could kill me." He held
up his hands as if in surrender. "I swear to God I thought it was Ray, and
I was trying to make him sweat. The next day, Chris walked in and gave me a
right hook that could have come from one of my opponents in the mixed martial
arts circuit when I fought." He rubbed his jaw at the memory. "That's
when she let me know it was Raif and I had best back off. She was so full of
passion on multiple levels."
"Yes,"
added Sheena Johnson Reynolds, joining the group. "Aunt Chris was quite
passionate. She once told me that the first time she and Uncle Raif made love,
they forewent dinner."
The group
laughed out loud.
No one noticed
Trista look their way with her jaw tightly clenched.
"What?"
asked Sheena, turning her blonde curly-top head from side to side and
stretching her green eyes wide. "What did I say that's so funny?"
"We
already talked about the fact that she and Raif had the tendency to skip dinner
and make love," answered Audrey.
"Oh."
The younger woman wagged her head and laughed lightly. She took a moment to
watch the man who had lost the love of his life.
Though he
played a gracious host, Sheena could tell he was broken. Watching Raif with his
son briefly, she saw the anguish on both their faces. Patrick hugged his father
and disappeared into the kitchen.
Sheena sighed.
"I'll never forget what she did at my lingerie shower. One of my friends
gave me this sexy little nighty-and-panty set in peach. When I got to Aunt
Chris's gift, the outfit was just like my friend's except in black. I kept
looking through the tissue for the panties. Finally, I asked, 'Aunt Chris,
where are the panties?' She winked and said, 'Honey, you won't need them.' I
know I turned ten shades of red."
"But she
was right, wasn't she, dear?" teased Dorothy Reynolds. Sheena blushed
crimson, and Dorothy cackled. "Now, that's thirteen shades of red!"
"What are
you doing to my wife?" asked Parker Reynolds.
"We were
discussing Aunt Chris's passion," answered Sheena.
"She was passionate," agreed Parker,
"but she was also compassionate
as well. When I was in the hospital after my mother shot me and I lost my
kidney, she came and sat with me. Even though I couldn't respond to her, I knew
she was there. After Mom went to the asylum, Aunt Chris talked to me a lot. She
said it was just like losing her mom, and she knew how I felt. We talked about
my feelings of abandonment. When I was angry, she let me throw a temper
tantrum. When I needed to cry, she just put her arms around me and let me cry.
Sometimes she would cry with me. She helped me understand that my feelings were
normal."
He took a deep
steadying breath. He was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe I've been
to two funerals in less than two weeks. Of course, only this family, Mom's
family, and the prison guard who always escorted her to my functions were
present at Mom's. He cried harder than anyone else and confessed that he had
real feelings for my mother." He swallowed hard. "On the other hand,
Aunt Chris's service was packed. God! I miss her."
"Parker,
no tears," reminded Lindsay Parks, putting her arm around Parker's waist.
"Tomorrow
we'll cry. Tomorrow we'll be angry. Tonight we celebrate a life
well-lived."
She looked
across the room at her stepfather. To anyone who loved him, it was apparent
that the man was about to break down. She let go of her cousin standing beside
her and walked to the man who had accepted her and loved her as his own child.
She put her arm around his waist. He hugged her
back.
Lindsay smiled
sadly and said to the crowd that had come together near the connecting
entrances of the dining room, family room, and sun room, "The first time I
talked to my mother, she was sitting in the New Orleans airport about to fly
back to D.C. I helped her sort out her priorities." She smirked as was her
custom and mischievous personality. "She came back and married this
wonderful man. After that, there was never any doubt that her family was her
number one priority. She loved us so much. Even in California, if I had called
and said, 'Mom, I need you,' she would've been on the next flight. From the
moment I met her, I never doubted her love. It was her whole reason for giving
me up for adoption."
"She was
my best friend," said Larkin Sloan Reynolds. "She never lied to me
even if it meant hurting my feelings. She was persistent. She nagged me to
death about Ray because she knew I loved him, and she would never have let me
marry Robert (Row-Bear) LaFontaine even if she'd had to stand up and object at
the wedding."
She looked at
her brother-in-law. She, too, could tell Raif was hovering on the brink of an
abyss. She walked near him and squeezed his hand. "When I first met Ray,
we played a little game where we used the letters of our names to describe
ourselves."
In a sing-song
voice and tapping a rhythm as her auburn hair swayed to some unheard beat, she
went on. "This is my Christine: Compassionate—full
of love and understanding; Heroic—always
willing to sacrifice something of herself; Realistic—dealing
in truth but somehow making hard truths less ugly; Independent—able to exist in the worst of times; Saucy—never taking nonsense from
anybody; Tenacious—never one to give
up; Intuitive—sensing when we needed
her most; Nurturing—always offering
support to help us grow in some way; Eternal—Her
spirit will live forever both in Heaven and here in our hearts."
Raiford
Reynolds put his arm around his wife and met his brother's eyes. He nodded.
"Chris was tops. Whatever she was to each of us, she was the best at it.
She would never have settled for second best. Yes, Lindsay, tomorrow we'll be
angry and we'll cry. Tonight we'll remember and know that all our lives were
better for Christine Milovich Gautier having graced them."
Trista jumped
from her chair. "How can y'all act like nothing happened? My mother is
dead!" She glared at each person in succession. "Y'all didn't see it.
Y'all didn't hear her last word. Want to know what it was?" Glowering
directly at her father, jaw clenched and hands fisted, she said, "'Raif.'
Her final thought was about you, even
though she was looking at me."
She screamed and fled up the stairs.
Raif started
after his daughter, but Patrick caught his father's eye with a shake of his
head. He mouthed, "I've got her, Dad," and went to find his younger
sister.
Raif took a
deep breath and held up a glass of Merlot. "To my strong, beautiful,
whimsical unicorn—Chris."
Glasses tinkled
as everyone remembered a person they loved. Raif drifted to the fringe of the
crowd. Dupree Parks sat down at the piano in the sun room and said, "My
mother-in-law accepted me with open arms. I had been a street thug, and I'm a
different race. But she saw the man I'd become. Above all else, Christine
Milovich Gautier was a lady. Mom, this is for you." He sang The
Commodores' "Three Times a Lady."
Raif's voice,
not as melodic as Dupree's as a professional R & B recording artist, picked
up the tune on the second stanza. When Raif's voice broke, Dupree took over
although his heart was breaking too.
Detective Gautier is survived by her husband, Raiford Gautier, her daughters Lindsay Parks (Dupree Parks), her son Patrick Gautier, her daughter Trista Gautier, three grandchildren, Roxanne, Lucy, and Marley Parks, her father, Lazarus Milovich, six sibling, and a host of nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her mother.
The entire town mourns the loss of one of its finest.
Get the whole story Broken, available in paperback and kindle on Amazon.
(Cover design by Christopher Chambers)
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