The Lost Years

Epilogue

Six months later, Mariah and Richard walked arm in arm through the empty rooms of her childhood home in Mahwah. These were the last few minutes that she would ever be here. She had thought in the beginning about staying, more for her mother’s sake than hers, but as much as she had always loved this home, it would forever be the place where her father had been murdered. And it would forever be the place where, as Greg Pearson had confessed to the police, Rory had so treacherously left the gun outside and the door unlocked for him.

After the charges against Kathleen had been dismissed, Mariah had brought her mother home. As she had feared, it quickly became clear that this house was no longer a comfort to Kathleen but rather a constant reminder of the horror she had endured.

On Kathleen’s first night back, Mariah had watched as her mother had gone straight into the closet in the study, where she curled up on the floor and sobbed. It was at that moment that she knew that Greg Pearson had not only robbed them of her father but had also robbed them of their home. It was time to leave it forever.

The movers had just loaded the last of the furniture and the carpets and the boxes of dishes and linens and books that she had kept for the roomy new apartment. Mariah was glad that her mother wasn’t here to see this. She knew how painful it would be. Mom has adjusted better than I ever expected, she thought wistfully. The impact of the Alzheimer’s had worsened and now Mariah had to comfort herself with the knowledge that her mother, whose memory had virtually slipped away, was content and safe. The nursing home where she now lived was in Manhattan, only two blocks from where Mariah and Richard would soon be living. In the six months since they’d moved Kathleen there, Mariah had been able to visit her almost every day.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Richard asked.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she answered. “Maybe there just are no words.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know.”

Mariah thought with relief about how Greg Pearson had pleaded guilty to the murders of her father and Rory and to kidnapping her and Lillian. He would be sentenced to life without parole before judges in New Jersey and New York in the next two weeks.

As much as she dreaded seeing him again, she intended to go to both courtrooms and to speak about the wonderful human being that her father had been and the devastation that had been inflicted on her mother and her. After she was finished, she would know that she had done all she could for the two loving parents she had been so blessed to have. And Richard would be standing next to her.

He had been with her in the hospital that night as the doctors had cleaned and stitched the painful gash on her head, and he had barely left her side in the weeks thereafter. “And I’m never leaving again,” he had told her.

Wally Gruber had received five-year sentences in New York and New Jersey, which he would serve concurrently. Peter Jones, the new county prosecutor, had sat down with Mariah and Lloyd and Lisa Scott, and they had given their approval to this reduction in his sentence, which otherwise would have been three times longer. “He didn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart, but he did save my mother from spending the rest of her life in a mental hospital,” Mariah said.

“I’m glad he took my jewels and I’m glad he got them back,” Lisa Scott declared.

After his sentencing in Hackensack, a cheerful Wally had left the courtroom beaming. “Piece of cake,” he’d said loudly to his long-suffering lawyer, who knew that the judge had heard the comment and was not pleased.

In a plea agreement, also with Mariah’s approval, Lillian had been sentenced to community service for trying to sell the rare stolen parchment. The judge had agreed that after her horrible ordeal, there was no real need for further punishment. The irony was that when Greg had planted the rumor that Charles was shopping the parchment, he had not been wrong.

Jonathan had showed it to Charles and told him that Lillian was holding it for safekeeping. Jonathan was horrified when Charles offered to sell it for him. After Jonathan’s death, Charles called Lillian, offered to find a black market buyer for it, and split the profits.

After Mariah and Richard stepped out of the house for the last time, they walked to the curb where his car was parked and got inside. “It will be nice to be with your mom and dad tonight,” she said. “I feel like they’re already my family.”

“They are, Mariah,” Richard whispered. Smiling, he said, “And never forget: As proud as they were when I was in the seminary, I know they can’t wait for us to give them grandchildren. And we will.”

Alvirah and Willy were getting ready to go to Richard’s parents’ home for dinner. “Willy, it’s been over six weeks since we’ve seen Mariah and Richard,” Alvirah said as she reached into the closet for her coat and scarf.

“Not since we met them and Father Aiden and the Scotts for dinner at Neary’s Restaurant,” Willy agreed. “I’ve missed them.”

“It has to be hard for her.” Alvirah sighed. “Today was the last day she’ll ever spend in her childhood home. That’s got to be so tough. But I’m so glad that they’re moving into that lovely apartment after the wedding. They can’t help but be happy there.”

When they arrived at the dinner they tightly embraced Richard and Mariah. In the few minutes that they allowed themselves to discuss the awful events they’d experienced, Alvirah told Mariah that, despite all of the tragedy, she had known when she touched the sacred parchment that she was holding something very special and wonderful.

“That’s right, Alvirah,” Mariah said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And what is also very special is that it is back in the Vatican Library where it belongs. And my dad can rest in peace.”