Mr. Hart straightened his tie before running his hands across his freshly shaven face and looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time. He walked out of the house and into Kevin’s squad car that sat in the driveway.
“You’re looking very nice today,” Kevin teased him.
“Before we head to the station I’d like to make a stop somewhere else.”
“Sure thing,” Kevin glanced over his shoulder and pulled out onto the street.
The car ride to the grave yard was a quiet one. Kevin didn’t talk or turn on the radio in respect to Mr. Hart. He knew that he would just like to be alone with his thoughts.
After taking a short stop at the flower shop and arriving at the grave yard, Mr. Hart finally stepped out of the squad car and onto the small gravel road that swiveled and swerved through the small grave yard, making a path for those who visited. He closed the car door quietly behind him and started to walk down the path.
He finally reached the headstone that he was looking for and knelt down in front of it. He placed the bouquet of salmon colored calla lilies on the soft grass that was beginning to grow around the headstone as he began to talk quietly.
“I could never begin tell you how sorry I am for everything. Everything that has happened the past few months has been entirely my fault. If I hadn’t of been so stupid, if I hadn’t of jumped to conclusions, if I would have just tried a little harder, I wouldn’t be in the position that I’m in today. The guilt that I have had to deal with on a regular basis is more than I can handle. If I could turn back time, I would. If I just had one more chance to do it all over, I would take that chance. I keep wishing that it were me instead. If I could sacrifice myself so that you could be here, I would jump at the chance.
“If it weren’t for Molly, I would already be with you. I have wanted to end it all so many times, but I have to stay here, I have to wait for Molly to come back. As soon as I get Molly back, things will get better. I know that they will. But, we will never be as happy as we were with you.
“Molly misses you so much, and I do too. A million times I told you that your stories were nothing but foolish make believe, but I would give anything for you to tell me just one more. I would never admit it to you, but my favorite story was the one that you told to Molly about when Peter Pan and the Lost Boys had a battle with the Indians at Slightly Gulch and in the middle of the fight he switched sides, ending it all. The way that you narrated that one always made me love you even more.
“To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to ever leave you. I loved you so much, and I still do. I kick myself every day for what I did to you, and I’ll kick myself every day for the rest of my life.
“I hate to leave, but I have to now. I have business that needs taken care of.”
Mr. Hart ran his fingers over the words engraved in the headstone that read, “Magdalene Angela Darling-Hart: Loving sister, wife, mother, and believer in fairies.”
Mr. Hart stood to his feet and wiped the tears from his cheeks then brushed the grass off of his pants. He made his way up the path and back to the car that was waiting for him. He took a seat on the passenger side and sighed before buckling his seat belt.
“How’s Maggie doing these days?” Kevin asked.
Mr. Hart chuckled, “I’m not sure, she didn’t talk very much.”
*
Within ten more minutes, Kevin and Mr. Hart pulled up to the police station.
“Good luck,” Kevin said as he unlocked the car doors, “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
“Thanks, Kevin,” Mr. Hart replied as he stepped out of the squad car.
He turned to face the brick building before him and let out a sigh as he climbed the few steps that lead to the front doors.
As he opened the doors he could feel everyone in the lobby staring at him, but he paid them no attention. He walked directly into the Chief’s office.
“Hart,” the Chief was startled to see him. He fumbled with some papers on his desk before asking gruffly, “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Hart took a seat in one of the cushioned chairs that sat in front of the Chief’s desk, and then stood up clumsily, taking the bag of dusk out of his coat pocket.
“Chief, I want you to look at this.” He said nervously.
“It’s a bag of dust.” The Chief said, stroking his white mustache.
“Not just dust, Chief. Pixie dust.”
The Chief bellowed a laugh, “Hart, you’ve gone crazy. I suppose you’ve been locked up in your house for too long.”
“I’m not crazy, Chief, this is real! Let me just show you.” He reached for a pen that sat in a cup on the Chief’s desk.
“Hart, stop it,” the Chief said, reaching for the cup filled with pens and snatching it away before Mr. Hart could take one.
“Chief, please,” Mr. Hart begged him, reaching for the bag of dust. The Chief grabbed one end of the bag, trying to snatch that away too, but he was too slow. Mr. Hart grabbed the other end of the bag and they began a game of tug-of-war.
“Hart, stop you’re making a fool out of yourself.” The Chief grunted through his teeth as he pulled on his end of the bag.
“Please, Chief, if you would just give me a chance-” he started. He pulled on the bag roughly making it fly out of both of their hands, the contents spilling all over the Chief’s desk.
“See, Hart! Look what you’ve-” but the Chief didn’t finish his sentence; he was too dumb-struck. He watched every paper, pen, and pencil, coffee mug, and binder that had been on his desk start floating gracefully through the air. “I-I-I-uh…” he sputtered out. He sat down and slapped his palm too his forehead.
The various office supplies continued to float upwards until they hit the ceiling. “Impossible…” he finally breathed out, “You weren’t lying.”