Chapter 19 - The Space Between Us
Dad faced a separate investigation into the disputed signatures and financial paperwork. Months later, prosecutors filed charges relating to the alleged false instruments and attempted transaction. I followed the proceedings through my attorney. I didn't attend every appearance or pretend an accusation was the same thing as a conviction.
The lender withdrew from the deal. Wrenstone stopped pursuing the farm. Whatever the criminal case ultimately established, the land itself was no longer a bargaining chip in my father's hands.
Mom moved into a small rental across town. She got a bank account in her own name, took a part-time job at the library, and began seeing a counselor. Those choices didn't earn forgiveness. They showed me she could make choices without Robert standing beside her.
We started with short phone calls on Sunday afternoons. Sometimes we spoke about the weather because the harder things were beyond us. Sometimes she asked about Lewis, and I told her one story at a time: the twenty-dollar card debt, the socks, the terrible singing in the truck.
She never said she knew exactly how I felt. That helped.
On the anniversary of Grandpa's death, Mom brought flowers to his grave. I arrived to find her standing beside the headstone, coat unbuttoned in the wind.
"He tried to tell me," she said. "I thought he was punishing Robert."
"He was protecting himself," I said. "And me."
"I wish I'd listened."
"I do too."
We stood there until the cold made my knee ache. Mom offered me her arm on the uneven ground. I considered refusing. Then I took it for the ten steps to the paved path.
May you like
That evening I opened the cabinet where Grandpa stored seed catalogs. Tucked behind them was a note in his handwriting: The east gate sticks when it rains. Lift it, don't force it.
I smiled, put on my boots, and went outside to find out whether he was still right.
