Weds Child (Magistrate 310 Story)

[Paragon Vanguard]

Ward Mitchum stood a few yards away from the congregating mass, under the canopy of trees that blocked the drizzle of rain falling on this grey day. He couldn't see much, just a bunch of black umbrellas with their own canopies blocking the rain. She was loved, it was not in doubt by anyone, except maybe her. The pastor preached his sermon of love and forgiveness and a place for all of us, but Ward wasn't so sure there was a place for him. He could hear the blubber of heartache from the nearest the grave, but it didn't stir much in him. Nothing stirred much in him right now.

This wasn't how it was suppose to end.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the preacher said, and this time cries of anguish.

 

"It's 1992 Ward! You need to live a little," she said, slapping his face lightly. His features were still smooth back then, but her features were excellent. Her blond hair blew in the wind as she hung it out of the passenger side of his grey Mustang. The yellow sundress she wore popped in the wind. Her 19 year old body still firm and strong.

"I am already doing 85, and we if we get stopped we may not get into the Police Academy," he said, glancing over to her, but only a glance.

"Well, do 92," she said with a laughter.

He pushed it to 92 mph, unable to say no to her.

 

"Now we lay her down, but she is not forgotten," the preacher droned on, with other words that one said at a funeral. He was hardly listening. The man went on to say something about her trials were over and whatever else to make one feel good. He had been to too many funerals as a PPD officer to even really listen to it anymore. He was sure they got it all from the same book of funerals that they probably got online at a discount bulk price to pass about to each other.

 

"It's almost 2000," she said, smiling up at him, her blond bangs playing as if they were about to go into her eyes, but never dared to.

"Yeah,' he said, a deep frown on his face. He wasn't happy since he and Rebecca broke up. She said he was too serious, too engrossed in his job, and that she could not take waiting around for him anymore.

"Well, Donald is overseas, his choice, and you are single now, so you have to kiss me," she said, putting her drink down and grabbing his hand. She lead him to the dance floor where they would finish the millennium together, ending with one friendly kiss and a gorgeous smile, a smile that only she could deliver.

 

The crowd lined up and tossed dirt on the casket, though Ward was not sure how much of it was still dirt. The rain was turning everything to mud now, but at least the grave site was covered by a large canopy provided by the PPD.

It was the least they could do. She had given years of her life to them, always with a smile it seemed. Always eager to give more.

Some officers gave a glance his way, and nodded. Most others had no idea what sentimental interest he had in this congregation. No idea how close he was to her.

 

"It's okay, Ward, you didn't take advantage of me. If anything, I took advantage of you," she said, as he looked out the window of the small 3rd floor apartment, the smell of too much alcohol still permeating the room. "You still love me?"

Of course he did.

Both smiled, then laughed. Ward rolled his eyes at her attempt to entice him.

Her fiance had sent her an email saying how he was not coming back to Paragon City, that he met a French lady and was in love. Donald apparently had trouble remembering that he had asked her to marry him. She asked him to go out that night to forget, and talked him into more drinking than he was used to. She could not bear to go home alone to a lonely apartment and that he could sleep on the couch, but it didn't happen exactly like that.

"Then come back to bed, it's all okay," she said with a big smile on her lips. "Friends with benefits?"

They were not really compatible, but he did love her, even with her long pretty locks now very short.

The Office played on the television as Ward went back to bed.

 

The limousines and black rentals and police cars began to pull off, one by one. Not the long line that brought her and her casket here, instead a look of it's all over, so it's time to leave. Some of the PPD upper brass still stood around talking, their umbrellas appearing almost intertwined from where he was. He saw the Police Chief glance to him time to time, but he did not make any gestures. Ward would not have responded anyway. It wasn't long before the rain was driving them to their own cars. Still Ward looked on, as the cold drops began to beat on him even through the canopy of leaves they had to filter through.

His uniform was protection enough.

 

"It's an honor you dummy," she said, tickled by how he was always solemn about even the best of things. She had already married and divorced by 2012, long having forgotten or cared about Donald.

"It's more Academy and I have to finish getting my degree," he told her, bringing a shake of her head. The bangs were longer now, and her hair was a little past her ears. Her blue eyes accented every highlight, or did the highlights accent her blue eyes?

He sat at her kitchen table as she fixed some coffee for him, black with no sugar. The house was huge, something she got in the divorce. The windows were big, and the morning sun shown through bright and warm. She was unable to have kids, but she wasn't sure she ever wanted kids.

Ward wondered if that may have been part of the problems with her ex-husband.

"Magistrates hunh?" She asked. She was part of the coroners office now, having furthered her own education. She wasn't rich, but she was secure, something Ward was pleased about since she lived alone. She said lived free, and he believed that was exactly how she felt about it.

"You will do it, so stop pretending its something to bounce around in your mind," she said, smiling as she put the coffee in front of him. It was Saturday and she was still in her Wreck-it Ralph pajamas. Too old to be a kid, but still too young to be old.

 

Ward finally made his way to the grave. He would not come here again. It was a show of respect, but he knew she was not there. It was just a body now, cold and stiff and not her. The cemetery worker stood back and gave him his moment. The uniform he wore was known. He was a Magistrate. Judge, jury, and sometimes executioner if needed. People always gave them space.

 

They didn't speak that day, but he saw her in the crowd, clapping at the new PPD Magistrates. It was much harder to pass than the Academy, but he had made it through. She waved at him and gave him a wink, her blond hair now partially streaked with grey. It didn't change how pretty she was, in fact if she had ever decided to dye her hair, no one would know she was in her 40's. Of course she would not dye her hair.

Ward chuckled as she gave a "woof woof" gesture with her fist, and held his diploma up to her, before turning and locking eyes with his wife, who also smiled broad. The two stood together, friends until the end.

 

Ward felt the hand on the crook of his arm. She was crying silently, not blubbering like some. She had given him his space, Linda always knowing when to back off and when to come close. She leaned her head on his arm, and some would think it was him comforting her, but it was not. She was comforting him the only way he would allow.

"Cate was a good friend, to both of us," she finally said, trying to shield Ward from the rain with her umbrella, having to reach high to cover his head.

 

Linda was a few years younger than Ward. She had met Cate working at the coroner's office, and the two became friends before Cate introduced Ward to her. Cate "just knew" the two would hit it off, and they did. The three spent 2019 in Cancun, a place Cate wanted to go at least one more time. It was fun, but Cate left the two lovers to enjoy it as many times as she accompanied them.

"I am happy on the beach you two, now get out of here," she had said, waving them off.

Cate was diagnosed with cancer not long after. He always suspected she knew before. She was "going to beat it", she had said with confidence, and Ward was sure she would. With the way she faced it, Ward was still sure she did.

"Dying isn't losing Ward," she had said only a few weeks ago. Her hair was gone, and she looked tired, but Ward could see only how beautiful she was.

She died on Monday, and was buried on this cold rainy Wednesday.

 

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe

 

Ward just nodded, looking at Linda and offering a consoling smile. With a slight shrug of acceptance, Magistrate 310 lead his wife away from the grave.

 

 

 

Hey, hey, hey-ey-ey
Come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There's got to be something better than in the middle

Me and Cinderella
We put it all together
We can drive it home
With one headlight -Jakob Dylan

 

 

 

Edited January 9 by Paragon Vanguard