Trey

Jolting awake at 3:59 am, I quickly accept the fact that I most likely won’t be getting any more sleep. I dig through my bag for a Xanax and pop it into my mouth, hoping it will take effect quickly enough to allow for a little more rest. My attorney won’t be in for another four hours, so there really isn’t much for me to do. I decide to send Mom a text, so hopefully she left her phone on.

Me: Any changes over night?

She replies immediately, so it’s obvious that she isn’t getting any rest either.

Mom: No. I’m really getting worried about him. His blood pressure has stopped rising.

Me: As long as it’s stable, he’s probably ok.

I have no reason to believe what I just sent her, but I wanted to say something comforting. I’m sure Tyler is going through detox as a result of all the painkillers he has taken the past several years. It’s not going to make his recovery any easier. I sure hope he will make an effort to get off them completely this time, for Vanessa’s sake if not his own.

Mom: Are you coming back up?

Me: I will after I talk to my attorney. You will have to be there with me though. They won’t let me be alone in the room with him.

Mom: This whole thing is so crazy. Come up when you can.

I know it’s no good for Mom to be sitting up there by herself, so I send a quick text to Vanessa to see if she will go sit with her. After waiting ten minutes without a response I tell her that I will go instead and to come up when she can.

Before leaving the house, I decide this may be my best chance to look through Mom’s cedar chest since Charles is snoring so loudly that I can use it as a monitoring device. I slip into Mom’s bedroom and turn on the light, glad that her and Charles don’t share a space. There are several stacks of mail on top of the chest so I quickly move them to the bed and carefully open the lid. After removing several photo albums, I come upon her diary and beneath it is a stack of letters and cards neatly bound by opposing rubber bands. Bingo!

I scan through them quickly and find a postcard dated roughly a year before I was born. Ray had sent it from Hawaii, but it didn’t say anything romantic. I assume he was being discreet since it was a postcard that anyone could read. Right beneath it however, is a letter. I quickly open it and begin skimming through it. Ray had also written this while they were in Hawaii and he talks about how lonely he is without her. Even though Maggie and Darla were with him, he couldn’t stop thinking about his true love. If Dad read any of these, I can see why he would have been devastated.

My heart continues to sink as I look through more of the letters. I’m not sure why he wrote so many of them, but apparently it was easier to write than to call on the phone. This was before cellphones were popular, so he probably had to talk on the phone at home or the one at work. I suddenly have a vision of them calling each other from payphones at a predetermined time. It gives me a new appreciation for living in the digital age.

I take three letters from the stack, spanning an entire decade. In one of the letters Ray suggests a paternity test to establish whether he or Victor is our father. Bingo! My intent is to get them photocopied and overnight them to Jürgen this afternoon. Hopefully Mandy will do the same, so we can put one portion of their circumstantial case against me to rest.

My stomach rumbles nervously due to the fact that it’s probably going to be up to me to find the real perpetrator. The detective and FBI will simply keep trying to connect me to whoever is committing these crimes. My stomach rumbles again, telling me that I need to pick up some breakfast on the way to the hospital. It’s going to be another long day. I send Tony a text, letting him know that I would like to go back to the hospital as soon as he is up.

* * *

“Good morning, Mom. I brought you some breakfast.” I hand her a box with a ham, egg and cheese sandwich on a freshly made croissant and a vanilla latte.

“Mmm, thank you. They both smell delicious.” She gives me a pain filled smile. “Tony got up to bring you in?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he slept in the car.” I open my box and pull out the sandwich.

“He’s a good man,” Mom muses, sipping her latte. “If I were twenty years younger.”

“Hey, cougars are all the rage right now. Especially ones that have money like you,” I tease her. “Instead you go for an old fart.”

“You be nice.” She shoots me a dirty look. “Charles has been good company for me.”

“I understand, Mom.” I give her a smirk and let it go.

As we both eat our sandwiches in silence, Tyler suddenly lets out a very definite moan. We both glance at each other and spring from our chairs simultaneously. His eyes are still closed but there is definite movement in his right hand.

Mom immediately reaches for it. “Tyler are you there?”

He lets out another audible moan and squeezes her hand just slightly, before silence once again fills the room. “I’m sure that’s a good sign,” I assure her as she kisses his hand and stares down at him intently.

“It’s a great sign!” she replies with tears forming around the edges of her eyes. “Did you see him squeeze my hand?”

“I did. He was trying to open his eyes, too.” I reach up and rub my fingertips along his forehead. “His eyelids were fluttering.”

“He’s going to make it.” She smiles, continuing to squeeze his hand tightly.

Mandy

After dreaming for what seemed to be hours, I finally regain full consciousness. The first thing I notice is that something hard and uncomfortable is beneath me. I roll onto my side and reach back to find my phone. I roll onto my back again and try to stretch the resulting kink out of my spine.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes and click the power button. Holy crap, it is 9:49. I can’t believe I slept so late. I notice that it’s Friday once again, the end of another whirlwind week. I struggle to sit up and rub my face with both hands in an effort to wake up. I’m a bit surprised that I haven’t heard from Trey, but I suppose he didn’t want to risk waking me. The house is completely silent except for the creek of old floor boards beneath my feet. I peer around the corner as I creep out into the hallway, but everything is silent. I pass through the kitchen and walk to Mom’s bedroom, but no one is around. Maybe Mom had a doctor appointment or something.

I creep over to the corner of their bedroom, to Dad’s old roll top desk and push the tambour back, revealing an assortment of paperwork. I open a small wooden drawer on the right side to find his checkbook. I open another drawer that looks like it must be unpaid bills. Next, I move to the large bottom drawer that is filled with file folders. I immediately move to a thick, unmarked one in the back that catches my eye. Men are so predictable, I think as I pull the folder out and onto my lap. I find it funny that he set up a separate post office box in town to receive her letters and then he stores them in such an obvious spot. Its no wonder Mom knew everything about his affair.

My heart saddens for her as I begin to look through the cards and letters from Silvia that Dad has received over the years. It appears that the correspondence stopped for several years but then started again soon after Silvia’s divorce. She clearly states in one of the letters that she keeps a man named Charles around for company, but it is completely platonic and they sleep in separate bedrooms.

At the end of each letter she tells him how much she loves him and wishes my mother well. These two have such a conflicted relationship. I select three random letters from the beginning, middle and end of the file. That was easy. I pull a large manila envelope from the adjacent drawer and slip the letters inside. Picking up my phone, I send Trey a text to let him know I have the letters and ask him for Jürgen’s address.

I saunter to the kitchen and begin pouring myself a cup of coffee, when my phone rings. Looking at the screen, I see that its Dad calling. “You guys deserted me,” I tease him upon answering.

“Honey, you better come down to the hospital,” his voice cracks as he speaks. “Your mother isn’t doing so well.”

“Oh my God, is she okay?” I ask feeling caught completely off guard.

“No. You should come see her right away.” He pauses as if he’s thinking. “Take your mother’s convertible, it’s in the shed.”

“Okay, I’ll get dressed and be right there.” I race to my bedroom, throwing the envelope filled with letters on the bed and go into my closet to grab some of my old favorite clothes. I can’t believe this is happening!

I feel completely numb as I open the doors to the shed and get into the front seat of her old beloved convertible. It occurs to me that in the end, nothing really matters. The disagreements, the hurt feelings or the little dent my sister put in the front fender. Crap, I need to call her. I scroll through my contacts and dial her.

“I just got off the phone with Dad,” Darla says, without even saying hello.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure you knew,” I reply, trying to be strong. “We had a really good talk last night.”

“That’s good. Mom and I had our talk about a month ago when the kids and I were home.” She pauses as if she’s in the middle of doing something. “I’m just packing the boys and then we are on our way. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Okay, drive safe,” I tell her, knowing her track record. “See you at the hospital.”

“Bye.” She says before the line goes dead and thoughts begin to clutter my mind once again. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so glad I came home yesterday. I never would’ve forgiven myself if I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her one last time. I screech to a halt in an open parking spot and run into the hospital.

“Maggie Greyson,” I tell the receptionist, nearly breathless.

“Room eleven, at the end of the hall,” she informs me with a compassionate look in her eyes. I’m sure she sees more than her share of pain sitting in that chair.

“Is she awake?” I ask Dad after meeting him in the doorway.

“Yes, she wants to see you.” Tears burst from my eyes immediately upon seeing her in the hospital bed. She looks so tired and weak.

“It’s okay sweetie,” she whispers, closing her eyes as if to fight back her own tears. “I’m sorry we won’t make it to the creek.”

My body shakes violently as I begin to break down. Even though she wasn’t the most loving mother in the world, we really did have a lot of good times out there. “It’s okay, I just wanted to spend one more afternoon out there with you,” I manage to whisper back to her.

“We have lots of good memories,” she says with tears rolling down her cheek. “I want you to spread my ashes under that big oak tree.”

“I will, Mom” I promise, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

She gives me what is possibly the most loving look I have ever seen in those eyes and then closes them. I squeeze her hand in mine, knowing exactly what is about to happen “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I turn to Dad, trying to avoid a complete meltdown.

“We said our goodbyes earlier, while we were waiting for you to get here,” he says with compassion filling his eyes. “It’s all good. She’s been suffering for a long time.”

Dad and I sit next to her bed and make small talk while watching Mom and listening to the beeps of the monitors. After nearly forty minutes Darla comes bursting through the door. “How is she?” she asks with a distressed look on her face.

“She’s still breathing on her own,” Dad replies. “You sit down here, I’ll go watch the kids for you. I think they are a little young for this.”

Darla takes her hand and says, “Mom, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids flicker, but there is no immediate response. Darla smiles at her sadly and sits down in the chair next to me. “You are lucky you got to see her,” Darla whispers. “She was really bad last weekend.”

“Yeah, something was telling me that I had to come home,” I tell her, thinking back to the gnawing feeling I had in my stomach.

We both sit quietly for several minutes before she begins to stir. Darla jumps to her side and I join her as she opens her eyes and takes one last deep breath. This time when she closes them, the air slowly escapes from her lungs and we both begin to realize that she is gone. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you,” I whisper through a flood of tears.

Trey

After meeting with Perry for nearly an hour, I was once again becoming comfortable with all of the accusations that were flying around me. I click on the text message that Mandy sent regarding the letters and give Perry a smile. “I think everything is going to work out,” I tell him.

“If there is no money trail for them to follow, then I guarantee they are simply blowing hot air,” he says. “They’re just rattling your cage, to see how you react.”

“Well, I’m sure there is a money trail, but it doesn’t lead to me. I don’t know why I let these guys get to me.” I shake my head in disgust. “There is just so much shit going on.”

“Don’t worry, son,” he says, slapping his oversized hand across my back. “My fees are high for a reason. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“The officer last night told me not to leave town,” I add, before leaving his office.

“Again, its just bullshit to ruffle your feathers. Unless they issue an arrest warrant, you are free to do as you please,” he assures me, leading me to the door. “Sorry to rush you out, but I’m due in court in thirty minutes.”

I force out a breath and let go of all my pent up anxiety as I leave his office and make my way to the elevator. I copy and paste Jürgen’s office address into a message for Mandy. I instruct her to make sure it is designated for overnight Saturday delivery. Within seconds my phone rings and it’s her.

“Hi, baby! That was quick,” I answer, feeling good for the moment. Unfortunately, all I hear at the other end is Mandy all choked up and struggling to get her words out. I brace myself for more bad news.

“Mom just died,” she finally utters between violent sobs. “I don’t know why I’m such a mess. I knew this was coming.” She pulls the phone from her face and blows her nose. “Last night it felt like I finally bonded with her.”

“I’m sorry, Mandy,” I reply in disbelief. “I’m really glad you two had some time together and got to have one last good conversation.” I tell her, thinking back to the last call from Dad that went unreturned.

“Me too. I still can’t believe she knew about Dad’s affair for all those years and was okay with it,” she says reflectively. “I could never do that.”

“Did she give you those letters?” I ask, immediately realizing that I am being insensitive and self-centered.

“No.” She pauses. “But the house was empty when I got up this morning, so I just snooped through Dad’s desk. They were in a thick, unmarked folder in the back of the file drawer.” She actually giggles through her tears.

“At least something was easy in this whole mess,” I reply with a sigh. “Mom’s were still at the bottom of her cedar chest. If you send those to Jürgen, I’ll send the ones I have too.”

“I’ll get them sent today,” she says. “I just have to drive by the house and pick them up.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Especially with all you have going on today. I just want to put that payment to Jake behind me.” I blow out another blast of anxiety-filled air. “Other than that, my attorney doesn’t see any issues.”

“Well, yeah. As long as you didn’t commit any other crimes, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, right?” she replies with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“I know, but with everyone accusing me of things and making up their own versions of the story, it gets a little unnerving,” I try to explain. “I still haven’t gone online or even on Facebook.”

“You have better things to focus on anyway,” she says, verbalizing the obvious. “How is Tyler doing?”

“He groaned and moved his hand a little this morning. I think he’s starting to come out of it.” I look up at the sky and silently pray that he will make it. “He will be able to set the record straight on what happened to him.”

“Hopefully he will remember,” she replies, sending a chill down my spine.

“I never thought of that. Yeah, I sure hope he remembers what went on.” I slip into the back of the limo to head back to the hospital. “I’m going to check on him now and then I’ll hop a jet for Tullahoma.”

“That would be sweet of you,” she replies in an appreciative tone. “My sister comes in this afternoon and the rest of her family lives right around here.”

“When is the funeral?” I ask, figuring it would be at least a couple of days.

“She didn’t want one,” she says, sounding a little disappointed. “She just wants us to get together at our favorite spot, say a few words and spread her ashes.”

“That sounds kind of nice, actually. I’m definitely not a fan of traditional funerals.” I think back to the mixed feelings I had on the day of Dad’s funeral. “I’ll let you know when I’m in the air.”

“Okay. Thank you, sweetie,” she says before hanging up.

I haven’t been called sweetie in a long time. Mom used to say that when we were little boys. What are the odds that we would both lose a parent at such a young age, both in their mid-fifties. My thoughts turn to Dad and how he completely obliterated Ray’s family business. I get a nervous feeling when I think about meeting him later today. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.