Hand of Fate

Megan toasted her dad, "Thank you dad for making me the woman I am today."

Just as she described him Greg's eyes were tear-filled as he held his own glass aloft acknowledging his only child's kind words.

"My mom and dad have had a long and satisfying life together filled with success, happiness, travel, rewards, friends and family. Like any couple they disagreed once in a while but I don't remember a time when they ever went to bed angry at each other. Somehow they always found a way to make peace first. The advice they gave me was always sound and trusted even though as a 'rebellious teen' I couldn't show them that. Just kidding folks...the truth is unlike a lot of my peers at the time I never had reason or cause to rebel against my parents. They were the kindest, gentlest, and most caring and giving parents any person could ever have had and I thank God I was lucky enough to have had them as my parents. You'd really need to hear it from my children to be sure but I think they've also been the best of grandparents too. Michael and I welcomed and appreciated their help, advice and guidance in helping teach and mold Margaret, Michele and Michael junior's young minds. We valued their encouragement, support and the different perspective they brought whenever the children talked about how they wanted to pursue their lives. And I'm very glad they taught my children a lot of the things they taught me so well."

Megan had to wipe tears from her eyes too before going on. "Well I guess there's nothing else to really say, most of you folks know my parents almost as well as I do. So please raise your glasses as we toast and honor my mom and dad, Molly and Greg Hunt on the occasion of their fiftieth wedding anniversary."

The room filled with the sounds of well wishers. Corks flew from champagne bottles, glasses clinked and camera flashes went off. A round of applause broke out once again as the honored couple stood to acknowledge their guests. Several photographers knelt down across the table in front of them. Greg saw the bursts of light from the camera's flashes and heard the sound of corks popping...heard the sound of...

...saw the flash of the muzzle and heard the sound of the gun's report then felt as the lead bullet slammed into his chest throwing him back against the retaining wall of the garden above. The bullet entered his body and tore through his aorta coming to rest lodged against his spine. Blood gushed from the wound as his legs folded and he fell to the ground on the concrete steps of Picard Square totally unaware, unable to feel the cold and dampness of the concrete he lay on. His head rolled to the left and he saw the fleeing figure of his hooded assailant fading quickly into the distance. This was the last thing twenty-nine year old Gregory Hunt saw as the darkness of the night closed in on him.