“Have you thought any more about your father’s estate?” the lawyer said.
Forrester took his seat across the desk from Chapman. “No sir, I have not. And I don’t intend to do any thinking on it. As far as I’m concerned, everything to do with my father is finished and I just want it to be gone.”
“So you still want all the money to go to charity.”
“Yes, sir. Did you find one that would be suitable?”
“I did,” Chapman said, taking some papers out of a file. “This charity has been working in the state of Montana for over ten years. It helps women who have suffered from domestic abuse. It gives them and their children a safe place to stay while law enforcement looks into their case. It’s very important work. Without it, it would be very difficult for some women to get out of abusive relationships, especially if they had children and had no where to go.”
“It sounds like what I asked for,” Forrester said.
“Yes, something that would have helped your mother.”
“So where do I sign?”
“Well, if you’re really certain that you don’t want any of this money for yourself.”
“I don’t want a red cent of it.”
“Well then, the document’s right here. Have a look over it.”
Forrester scanned the document, which was some fifteen pages long. Everything looked to be in order. He picked up a pen and scrawled his name and the date on the line assigned.
“And what about the legal fees and transfer fees?” Chapman said. “If you want, I can take them out of the estate before I transfer the money.”
“No,” Forrester said. “Don’t do that. I’ll pay the fees. Have your secretary send a bill to my address in California. The charity could probably use all the money it can get.”
Forrester stood. Chapman stood also. They leaned over the table and shook hands.
“I’m sorry this has been such a difficult situation for you,” Chapman said.
Forrester nodded. “It’s not your fault,” he said.
“I shouldn’t ask you this, but did you read the letter?”
Forrester reached instinctively into his pocket and felt the crumpled envelope.
“I did not,” he said.
Chapman nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it since I gave it to you. I probably should have just done you a favor and destroyed it, but lawyers are sticklers for keeping their word.”
“The good ones are,” Forrester said.
Chapman nodded. “Anyway, what I was going to say is that you’d be better off just throwing it in the trash. Your father was a mean man, and he only got worse toward the end of his life.”
Forrester nodded. That pretty much decided the issue for him. He’d been half holding on to the hope that the old man had a change of heart on his death bed. He knew it was a long shot. Now he knew it was a pipe dream too.
He left the law office, went back to his truck, and drove to the diner. As he pulled up outside he could already feel his heart quicken with excitement. It was scarcely an hour since he’d seen Elle and he already missed her.
He peered into the diner from where he sat in his truck and could see her inside working. She was serving some guys at the counter. She didn’t see him.
Was she pregnant already?
Was she already carrying his child?
He felt his cock throb at the thought. No woman had ever had the effect on him that Elle had.
“Screw it,” he said out loud.
If he was truly going to move on from his past, if he had truly overcome the abuse his father had inflicted on him, then what did he have to fear from that letter?
He pulled it out of his pocket and without giving himself the time to change his mind, ripped open the envelope. He held the page in front of him and read it in a single scan.
*
Forrester Snow,
The very sound of your name still makes my stomach turn. You’re scum, boy. You’re a no good, piece of shit, son of a bitch. You killed your mother, you know.
People say you’re not to blame. You didn’t know what you were doing. You were just a baby.
I say, all that’s fine. You were a baby. You didn’t ask to be born. But you still killed her, and for that I’ll always hate you. You’re no more guiltless than the bullet that strikes its mark. The bullet doesn’t know what it’s doing, but it kills its target all the same.
That’s you, Forrester Snow. You killed your own mother, you killed my wife, and I curse the day you were conceived. If I could go back and not fuck your mother the day I made her pregnant, I’d do it. I’d erase your very existence.
I was never the perfect husband, but I loved that woman more than I could ever love you.
You’re worthless to me. You would have been worthless to her too, if she’d survived your birth. No one could love you when you were born. The truth is, I didn’t want to raise you. I tried to give you up to the county, I tried to get rid of you, but they wouldn’t take you. No one wanted you.