By some miracle, Meg and Rob managed to keep the kids away from me while I’d been in the kitchen reading the letter. Once the sobbing had started, Meg had taken me onto the front porch while Rob had herded the kids out the back of the house and into his five-person ATV to take them fishing. Meg and I had stayed there in the swing, me sniffling while she read the letter, too.

“God. What an asshole.”

I laughed half-heartedly, knowing she was just doing her best to make me feel better about the whole situation. I didn’t need to feel better, though, surprising even myself. I was resigned to the whole confession because he’d been right about one thing: the letter changed nothing. Knowing that he’d seen where he’d gone wrong in the past was nice, and his admission of guilt was a relief to see. Sadly those things all came too late. Dustin had been dead for over fourteen years. My mom had been dead for over twenty-two years, and my father had just died on me, too. Apologies and confessions couldn’t possibly change any of that. They just made me understand the situation a little more. Everything I felt had been justified, and I had found my peace with that at the very least.

“He always was.”

“But this is just…”

“It’s justification for what I always felt. He never would have admitted any of those things while he was alive, and that’s why he wrote the letter while he was faced with his own mortality. Doesn’t change the past or the future, but it validates all the resentment I felt growing up. At least I wasn’t crazy.”

“No, you’ve always been crazy.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing as I leaned my head on her shoulder. I looked out over the distant county road beyond her property boundary and sighed thoughtfully. “It also makes me realize how lucky I was, and am, to have you and your parents. I don’t think I would be where I am without y’all, and I’m pretty sure I would be another version of him, bitter and angry at the world.”

“You could have still been that with us in your life. You survived because you refused to give up. All you ever wanted after your mom died was to get out of this town and succeed, and you did that. You even finished high school when most would have just given up and applied for a GED. After the hand life dealt you, you picked yourself up, got in your car and drove.”

“Only because I couldn’t be here.”

“I don’t buy that, Kay. It would have been much easier for you to stay here with all the memories and ghosts of him around every corner. Surround yourself with what could have been while playing the grieving widow and mother to a fatherless child. Shit, it’s what your dad did. When life got hard, he numbed reality and hid from life, pretending you didn’t exist because it was easier than looking at you and seeing your mom. You and I both know that Holly is sixty percent Dustin and forty percent you. You see him every time you look at her, but you love her for it. You don’t punish her.”

“She’s all the best parts of him. I can’t even imagine not loving her with every part of my heart and soul.”

Megan smiled and squeezed my hand with hers. “Mom’s always said you’re the best parts of your parents, but you’re more Kimberly than Jeff.”

I laughed and pulled my feet up, hugging my knees to my chest while Meg continued to swing us. Sitting in silence, we enjoyed the cool spring breeze for a while, lost in our own thoughts. The insects were just starting to get into their groove of the song when Meg broke the quiet and plunged them into submission again.

“So, what are you going to do now? He’s told you he left you everything, no more speculation needed on that. You going to go to see the lawyer?”

Turning my head and resting my cheek on my knees, I smiled. “I am, and I’m going to sell what I can and then put the money in an account for Holly.”

“Nothing for you?”

“I may have a card for the account if a need comes up, but we’re comfortable, Meg. I love that she’s going to have a good amount of money in the future, but for now, she’s learning the value of a dollar, and she actually wants to work. I don’t want her turning out like Libby was. Nothing comes free in life, and that’s the foundation I want her to build on.”

“Libby peaked in high school.” Meg snorted. “She’s still beautiful, but nothing comes free to her now. Rumor is she got married to an older guy for his money and got caught screwing some other guy in a motel room when her hubby hired a private detective. He understandably divorced her, and she got nothing. She tried to put herself out there again, but she went big or bust that first time and the old man had a lot of friends, which meant little princess Libby got a bad reputation.”

“Is that why she’s living in Wichita Falls?”

“Absolutely. She can’t show her face in Dallas or Fort Worth.”

There was a certain amount of glee in the tone Meg was using. She was enjoying Libby’s failure, and I was pretty sure most of the kids that had been in school with her shared that opinion, including me.

“If she weren’t such a bitch, I’d feel bad for her.”

“If she weren’t such a bitch, she’d be happily married, content and have little Libby’s creating her legacy.”

“Meg.”

Laughing, she turned her head to look at me, both eyebrows high. We both knew just how low Libby would go to get her own way. We also knew she had no sympathy or class, and we were more than aware of how cruel she could be when she needed to step on someone to get her own way.

“Don’t Meg me. Erin told me that she reached out to her on Facebook last year sometime, and in a single conversation blamed you for all her bad luck in life. Dustin Hill was her meal ticket, and you ruined it all when you stole him.”

“And got him killed.”

“Kay…” Her tone held a warning, but my comment hadn’t been because I’d believed I was to blame—not all the time anyway—but because I had been aware of what Libby had been saying the moment the news of Dustin’s death had spread through town. The rumors had spread so quickly even I’d heard them before I’d left.

“Oh come on, we both know she’s been singing that song since she found out what happened that night. I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah, well… Erin put her stupid ass in place.”

“Erin still can’t stand her?”

“God, no. I heard Libby tried to hook up with Erin’s brother to get back at her, but he shut her down.”

“My God.”

Meg laughed. “I know. It’s a comedy of errors. It’s hard to believe the woman everyone thought was going to stand at the top and laugh down at us all is failing miserably. She was one of those traffic girls on the station in Dallas before she got married, but she quit, and they won’t touch her now. The NBC affiliate refused even to give her a reference. I heard her ex-husband works closely with the station manager.”

“God, don’t tell me any more. It’s getting depressing.”

“True, but it’s also kind of nice to know that life is fucking with her after all the shit she pulled back in high school.”

“I try not to think about high school too often.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Well, not until you got with Dustin and she found out. Erin always talks about that, too.”

“How often do you speak to Erin?” I laughed, smiling when Meg met my glance again.

“Hey, just because you’re not utilizing social media, doesn’t mean the rest of us are living in that cave. She and Troy always ask after you.”

“I know. I just prefer hiding behind the bar’s name when I go on there. I don’t want people to hunt me down or associate me with anyone from high school. I do the marketing and move on. I like my corner of the world. I don’t see a need to expand right now.”

“I respect that.” I gave her a look, and she continued on a laugh. “What? I do. I may tease you about it, but I do get it, Kay. High school was shit for you, and on top of that, the center of your life is something not many people know about, but it has been fourteen years.”

“And I still like my privacy.”

Megan shrugged and squeezed my arm as we lapsed back into another round of companionable silence. I hadn’t been up that long, but I was already feeling emotionally exhausted, on top of the minor hangover that was still plaguing me. I was ready to go back to bed and hit restart on the day.

I stayed on the porch swing for a while, even after Meg had grown bored and headed inside to do the dishes. My mind was several miles down the highway; hiding under a copse of trees that I believed was on the property my dad had owned all this time anyway. If that was the case, I knew the trees were still standing, and my hideout was still exactly that – somewhere to hide, the drooping boughs of the willow and the thick stretching branches of the oak winding together to create a perfect curtain from the elements. It wasn’t like I needed to hide now, but the memories of that time with Dustin were still so vibrant, I knew if I slipped under there, the past would feel close enough to touch.

I couldn’t think about that now, though. I had to get to the lawyers and collect everything I was supposed to collect then find out what had been done with my father’s body. In the mess of emotions my selfishness had taken over, and I hadn’t even asked the simplest of questions. This made me feel like a monster, even if my father and I had been estranged.

I took my time wandering back to the apartment over the barn. I procrastinated by taking a long shower, and again when trying to decide what I should wear to a lawyer's office. By the time I was dressed and ready to go it was still early, and I cursed myself for not dragging the process out more. I didn’t even have the kids as an excuse to put the trip off. I’d fished with Rob enough to know that being at the little lake was an all-day event, and going midweek was a treat for him so he wouldn’t abuse that gift. This meant my schedule was clear, and I had the opportunity to go into Amarillo and talk to the lawyer my father had hired. I was happy to see he hadn’t used the ancient old man that had the only lawyer’s office in Childress. Everyone knew his secretary was the biggest source of gossip around town.

With a quick goodbye to Megan, I headed out and turned up the music in my car as I settled in for the almost two-hour drive to Amarillo. I didn’t mind being alone for the drive. I took the time to gather my thoughts and prepare myself for what was about to happen.

The offices of Larry Gloyd Esq. were nestled neatly in a small business tower in the center of Amarillo just down the street from the courthouse. I wasn’t sure why my father would have retained the services of a public defender when he was independently wealthy, and it wasn’t until I walked into the reception area that I realized my mistake. Larry Gloyd was not a cheap lawyer, and I immediately felt underdressed.

“Miss Quinten?” the receptionist asked sweetly. “Mr. Gloyd will be right with you. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

“Water, please.”

“You got it.” She rose and slipped away down the hallway behind her desk, leaving me to look out over the city as it spread out around us.

It never ceased to amaze me how funny life was. No matter what we were dealing with personally, no matter how much our worlds crumbled down around us, leaving dust and debris, the world kept right on turning, and people went about their business. This should have been comforting, but the fact of the matter was the continuation of the day to day just made everything more surreal. Life had been much harder after Dustin had died. I’d spent so much time thinking about the people who would never get to know him, who would never be touched by his kindness or know how warm it was in the embrace of his love. They would never know him.

With my father’s death and all of this business, my thoughts were purely selfish. How could they not see how torn I was about all this? Why couldn’t they all feel my anguish? Why was this happening again? Why couldn’t I be protected against all of this destruction for once? Death was a tragedy no matter who it touched, but since the phone call from Meg about my dad, I felt like I was walking around with a target on my back. I wanted to wrap the people I loved in bubble wrap to protect them from the curse of knowing me.

I was withdrawn from my destructive thoughts by the return of the receptionist. She set a small bottle with the firm’s logo on the label next to me and smiled sympathetically before slipping back behind her desk to resume her work. The water gave me something to do while I waited with growing discomfort, and I was only halfway through my escape plan when the buzz of the phone made me jump. The young woman murmured quietly into the receiver, her fingers diligently snapping across the keys as she typed. The anticipation grew until my tension crackled in the air around me, causing a wince when she finally did call my name.

“Miss Quinten, Mr. Gloyd will see you now. It’s the door at the end on the far left.”

I kept the bottle in one hand and wiped the palm of the other on my jeans as I nodded, stood, and reached for my bag. I really didn’t want to be there in that office anymore. I wanted to be heading home to Colorado where my life made a bit more sense. I felt as though I was about to stand in front of a firing squad.

By the time I’d knocked on the door, I was in full decline toward an anxiety attack. My head had put together all these images of what I should expect and what was about to go down, and when I knocked, the deep, “Come in,” almost sent me running in the opposite direction.

Swallowing the manifestations of my own fear, I pushed the door aside and stepped into the room. Finding the cheerful faced man behind the desk made me relax a little, but it was the warmth of his office that squashed the need to flee. Inside this room, there weren’t the sleek lines and cold walls of the reception area. He’d covered one wall in shelves filled with leather-bound books and fronted with family images, trinkets, awards, and nicknacks. Children’s faces smiled from the frames on his warm cherry wood desk, while the credenza behind him held files and more pictures. The surface was littered with them, and a little chaotic, but the sight brought comfort with it.

“Ah, Miss Quinten. I finally get the pleasure of meeting you.” He stood and offered his hand to me, and I rushed across the room to shake it before taking the seat he offered with a tip of his head. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

He smoothed his tie down his chest and over his stomach as he sat again and wheeled himself closer to the desk. He tapped his hand on a fat manila folder and then linked his hands over the top.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” I supplied, crossing my hands in my lap.

“Your father talked about you often toward the end of his life.” He slipped on a pair of reading glasses and opened the file in front of him. I figured he must have been old school considering most people worked from computers these days.

“We were estranged,” I said defensively.

“Yes,” he cooed paternally. “He mentioned that as well. He liked to think he deserved it.”

“I don’t know about all that. It was my choice to stay away, and I couldn’t bring myself to see him after what happened. He knew this, too, which was why I was surprised he reached out to me after his death.”

Mr. Gloyd nodded thoughtfully and smiled at me as he pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. There was no judgment in his glance, no condemnation, just objectivity as he played Devil’s advocate.

“Mr. Gloyd, I appreciate that you probably knew my father much better than I did. Maybe you even became friends, but for me, he died when my mom did. He gave up and liked to pretend I didn’t exist because denial made life easier for him. As much as I wish things could have been different, they’re not. I did the only thing I could to survive and succeed.”

A smiled passed over his face and warmed his eyes further. His cheeks rose as his lips curled giving him the look of a kindly grandfather. “I didn’t mean to overstep, Miss Quinten.”

“You didn’t.”

He nodded in acceptance and picked up a few of the papers in the envelope before sliding them toward me. “Why don’t we get started on the paperwork?”

As rocky as the conversation was to begin with, we fell into an easy companionship as he went through all the paperwork and technicalities with me. He explained everything, what they meant, and what would happen once I signed every piece of paper. He gave me financial records, explaining how they had grown over the past four years since my father had asked him to keep everything in order. He handed me several keys to the house, the vehicles, and the bank’s safety deposit box. I had a copy of everything I’d signed, my father’s death certificate and several other state and federal forms, including the taxes that had been paid over the last fourteen years. My father had made sure to keep everything in order, and had even organized a cremation for himself. When I asked, I was told I would be called when he was ready to be collected. His request was for his ashes to be scattered at Mom’s grave, and that small kindness felt right for me to do for him at the very least.

By the time I left Mr. Gloyd’s office, I had a large envelope filled with a novel’s worth of paper, keys, and a couple of bonds my father’s father had bought for me when I was born. I felt stunned, bewildered and a little confused by the whole transition.

After a quick text to Megan, I got in my car, which was cast in shadows in the multi-story parking garage, locked myself in and cried, finally releasing the growing anxiety and sadness that had been creeping over me since I’d arrived in Amarillo.