Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My mother didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was listening.
“Mom,” I said, “Sterling’s right. I have to do this. I have to follow this trail Dad left for me. It’s been full of memories. We went to the lake house. I saw Sugar Mae and Bob. I’d forgotten about them.”
My mother lifted a hand to shield her eyes as if it was too bright in the kitchen. Her shoulders hitched, and I hated myself anew for forcing her to deal with all of this, to feel these things she hated to feel. But she had to know.
“They miss you,” I said quietly.
“I miss them too,” she whispered. “They were good friends. I just…I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t… Forrest…I’m sorry… I’m sorry I haven’t been able to let you have your father. I just…” She dropped her hand and lifted her eyes, shattered with pain.
My heart flinched. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to imagine what it would be like—to lose Sterling. And not the Sterling of today, but a Sterling I’d married and had a child with, had a life with. And then to have her be gone, to have her leave me in such a final way by her own choice.
No, I couldn’t fathom what that would do to me. And my mother didn’t know what Emmett Blake had discovered.
“Mom,” I said, afraid that I was only going to cause her more pain. “Have you ever considered that Dad may not have killed himself?”
My mother shook her head, tendrils of hot pink and gray brushing her cheeks. She tucked her hair roughly behind her ears. “Forrest, we can’t rewrite the past.”
“I’m not,” I said. I looked to Sterling and back to my mother. “Sterling’s been doing most of the work solving these codes and ciphers Dad left behind. But we came across one we couldn’t crack.”
I wasn’t telling her the story about the root cellar or any of the reasons we left Sawyers Bend. That would only get me in more trouble.
“We brought the latest cipher to some security people Sterling’s brother used to work with. And they, um… They looked into me since Sterling and I are…” God, this was awkward and complicated to explain. “Anyway…when they investigated me, they looked into what happened to Dad.”
I explained what Emmett Blake had found. My mom was shaking her head before I could finish telling her about the gun that hadn’t been fired.
“No,” she said. “Forrest, no. I don’t want to hear fairy tales. I don’t want revisionist history bullshit. The past is the past. Your father left us, and I will never forgive him for that. I will never be at peace with it. And I won’t let you sell me some story. I won’t let you give me hope. I’d rather have the truth, and the truth is that he’s gone.” Her eyes burned with anger and pain, tears pooling on her lashes.
“Mom…can’t you just listen?” I pushed, hating that I was hurting her all over again.
“I am listening,” she said, “but you don’t have any proof. The police looked into his death all those years ago, and no one ever said it was anything other than suicide. I won’t have it.” She smacked the table again, the teapot and mugs rattling at the impact. “Do you hear me? Unless you have real proof, I won’t discuss it. Do you have anything more than shadows and ghosts?”
I let out a long sigh and shook my head.
“Then get out. Just give me a few minutes. Please. And then I don’t want to discuss this again.” She stood, wobbling a little. “You two go poke around in the garage, see if you can find your boxes while I finish up dinner. We’ll eat the cookies later.”
I stood. “Mom…I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you—”
She cut me off with a shake of her head. “I was so mad at you for lying last year and causing yourself so much trouble. I can’t be mad at you now for telling the truth. Even if it’s only your truth. But I need a minute. Please.”
I nodded, sick to my stomach at her distress, my heart aching. I’d hurt her by lying, I’d hurt her by staying away, and now the thing that I’d thought might make her feel better had only hurt her more.
I hated it. I hated myself more than a little for doing what I’d done.
“Give a shout when dinner’s ready,” I said and led Sterling back out the front door, across the yard, past the chicken coop to the old garage.
Chapter Thirty-Two
FORREST
“You did the right thing,” Sterling said as we walked.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “I hate that I made her sad all over again.”
“Yeah. Me too,” she agreed. “But I understand. I don’t think you ever get over that kind of sad.”