Marriage by Verdict

By Stevenson Mathieu

Marriage for convenience is not new under the sun. Movie stars, politicians, military members, immigrants have used it as a tool to achieve their goals. Think of it, and then ask yourself: Am I in a marriage for convenience, or do I know anyone in this situation? The answer could be stunning. Remember any marriage not based on love or a relationship is considered as marriage for convenience.
Arranged marriages are still existed in our society as well as abroad and will continue to immerge as long as the grooms and brides are under the influence of their parents in part or as long as singles are surfing the Internet. On the other hand, marriage by verdict is unique, and for some odd reasons we tend to avoid it. The characters demonstrated all three types of marriages mentioned above. Stephanys first marriage is no doubt a marriage based on love. Annette and Hugues had their meeting arranged, and finally Christopher utilized the court system to enter the matrimony with his feisty fiance Stephany.
As entertaining my book may be, be mindful that if a loved one or a significant other helps you reach your goal in life, you should be thankful to that person. That person put all his or her faith on you to become somebody; rise up with that person, dont just dismiss that person, make him or her your partner in life. Should you separate from that person, dont diminish him or her because you become the fruit of that persons labor. Always play fair. Be thankful

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 31, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462816842

Book preview

Epilogue

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

That Wednesday night, the murderer and his accomplice made their bed in Brooklyn and slept in it. The plan was for them to infiltrate the check cashing place early the next morning right at the time when the city was barely adjusting to a new day. This was the day when everybody got paid and mucho cash would be carried inside the place. Ralph’s mouth watered at the thought of so much money just one floor below his bed. He’d finally get his teeth fixed, he thought as he dozed off lightly. He was tired of his mouth looking like a Halloween carves out. All he had to do was be patient for a little while. It would all work like clockwork, he was sure. Hopefully his idiot buddy would not mess things up. He had enough crap to deal with already.

Only a few more hours to go till dawn…

I

THE ROBBERY GONE BAD

All hell broke loose on Thursday morning. He should have known. Why, the place wasn’t even empty as it should have been! The blood on his hands was drying up fast and his heart was pumping furiously. What was he supposed to do? I shouldn’t have brought that gun . . . I shouldn’t have brought that gun . . . Thank goodness he didn’t have to use it on the woman, too. The air was still crisp and fresh but his skin was clammy. He was too old for this shit. Why did life have to be so complicated?

*     *     *

Meanwhile

Air—where is the air? Too damn hot . . . and it’s dark. Didn’t I switch the light on this morning? Guess this was what it meant to check out, to take the final bow, to leave the building. God, why now? Why me? As the silence and stench of blood filled the room, he could see Stephanie smiling at him through the open doorway—that impish smile that never failed to melt his heart. A radiant light suddenly flooded his sight. In its glow, he saw her holding her swollen belly, welcoming him home after a long day.

We missed you today, honey. Baby couldn’t stop kicking and I feel like a zombie.

Must see what to do about that then, ain’t that right?

A big hug and a twirl later, left breathless and laughing, they’d sit down at the table for dinner, whiling away the evening hours in comfortable conversation. They’d talk about dreams, plans, and ideas. It was a time of the day when things were discovered and weariness was washed away in the glow of the kitchen lamplight. Sometimes, the fetus would make its presence known and they’d burst out laughing. He’d talk to the baby; then, tell it a funny, silly story. That was how it was—a daily ritual he couldn’t see himself living without. Four more months! Four more months and he’d have met his daughter, looked into her eyes, held her in his arms. Or was it a son?

.

Not that it mattered. But Stephanie was convinced it wasn’t. Actually she was pretty adamant about it—a mother’s intuition perhaps. She felt it so much. She’d buy pink-colored baby clothes and hide them from all eyes, including his own, thinking he wouldn’t notice. But he did. He saw her sneaking to the baby’s room one day with a dainty, girly baby tee in her hands. Her giggles were faint but he appeared in that instant that he could feel both her spirit and the happiness radiating from the life inside her. It was surreal. So he let her keep her secret. It was almost like a game they played and it seemed to make her happy, despite the fact that they had decided early on that they didn’t want to know the sex of the baby before the birth. All they wanted was a healthy baby—they always thought—just like any other new mommy and daddy would feel.

The heat became more stifling, the breathing more sparse. It was almost time now. He was sure it was well into morning by now. Someone should call, someone should find them soon.

Annette, where was she? Was she okay? She had been with him in that terrible moment, but there was only one shot.

He wasn’t ready to go, but that didn’t matter. In those final, still moments, Stephanie filled his universe. Keep the baby safe. Please . . . I love you, Steph.

The lights became brighter, almost blinding. There were people, lots of people—talking to him, coaxing him. The voices grew louder.

Take care, James. This one’s in pretty bad shape. The woman’s beaten up pretty rough, but she’ll be okay when she comes thru.

He felt softness beneath his back as he was being lifted and moved onto some kind of mattress and then carried forward into an enclosed space. The doors closed around him; and for a split second, there was absolute quiet. Was he already dead? Then he felt movement and the ambulance siren hailed them forth through busy streets and tableaus of urban life where time never stood still. Thoughts raced through his head in dizzying intensity.

Stephanie, how I will miss you! What can they do for me? I can feel it coming . . . Damn, I long for you right now. The pain, stop this pain, please! We just started living and now I won’t be there for you. I can’t feel my legs. Where are my legs? But I promise I’ll never leave your side. I will watch over you, always.

When was it too late to tell someone you loved them?

The lights went out.

And then, truly, he was dead.

*     *     *

Stephanie was lounging on the couch taking a breather when the doorbell rang. She was always tired these days and she made it a point to rest whenever possible.

I know he didn’t forget his house keys again. How did I marry such a scatterbrain!

She hauled her now bulky frame from the comfort of the couch, holding her belly as she straightened her back and waddled as quickly as she could to the door. Her body protested and she didn’t like it.

Alex, she blurted as she opened the door.

Then she saw the two guys in uniform. The older one spoke, We are looking for Mrs. Stephanie Nemorin.

That’s me.

May we come in? We’d rather not talk to you in the hallway.

Of course, here, have a seat in the living room. I hope you don’t mind me putting my feet up. They’re always swollen these days.

Mrs. Nemorin, sorry to interrupt, this is my partner officer Sully and I’m officer Melick. This is very difficult for us, considering the circumstances. We regret that we have some bad news for you.

His eyes slid to her stomach.

What is it? What happened? Is Alex alright?

Sorry ma’am, there’s been an accident. Your husband was shot by a burglar. The paramedics found him this morning after a call to the hospital. One of the day employees found him and Ms. St. Preux who was lying on the floor unconscious. They tried to race him to the hospital but he didn’t make it. He passed away in the ambulance. Ms. St. Preux will recover.

He paused and gentled his tone to continue, Please let us assist you. We do not wish you to be alone tonight. If you will allow us, we will call Catherina Libie. She’s pretty good in cases like this and she’d be able to help.

No, please, get out. I want to be alone right now.

But—

Get out! Now!

Okay ma’am. Detective Healy will be calling you later on. I hate to insist, but someone has to identify the body.

I understand. It’s… It’s ok. Later—Please leave now.

The click of the door was a distant sound in her mind as the moisture started filling her eyes.

Oh, Alex! Why? Why now?

The phone rang—three times.

She ignored it. On the fourth time, she lifted the receiver.

Hello, Jacques.

Don’t say anything. We’re coming over now, and he hung up.

It could be anyone’s guess that there was no peace within those four walls that night, and for a long time thereafter.

*     *     *

Some time earlier

It was eight o’clock that hot Thursday morning as a curious crowd gathered at the intersection of Nostrand and Church Avenue in Brooklyn, New York. Some wanted inside the building to cash their checks, but the entrance was blocked. The sound of sirens surrounded this usually surprisingly serene, somewhat nondescript part of the neighborhood—mostly home to many members of the Haitian community—alerting residents to a scene of tragedy and chaos.

An hour earlier, two individuals broke into Nostrand Check Cashing Station by boring a hole through the floor of an apartment situated directly above it, triggering the silent alarm system. NYPD responded to the call, and a conflict ensued. The would-be thieves eventually managed to escape, but not before the crossfire caught Alexander, a Nostrand Check Cashing Station employee, in the chest.

Someone switches on their TV set, and the ungodly sound blasts through the crisp morning air. The smooth timbre of a warm, feminine voice travels to several streets and alleyways.

Alexander Nemorin, a twenty-five year old resident of the Haitian community in Brooklyn and an employee of Nostrand Check Cashing Station for the past three years, was tragically killed today when he came face to face with two as yet unknown individuals who were in the process of burglarizing the store, which is located at the corner of Nostrand and Church Avenue. Nemorin arrived at the office early today, as he planned to leave early to attend a doctor’s appointment with his wife, Stephanie, who is five