The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(35)
Author: M. Leighton

So this morning, at an obscenely early hour, I exited my room as quietly as possible and padded into the kitchen to start some coffee. As I scooped the fragrant grounds from the canister, I thought again of Dad telling me it’d stunt my growth. I smiled despite the pain that gnawed at my heart.

As I put the coffee can away, I noticed a stack of mail behind the sugar jar. I had been so self-absorbed and grief-stricken lately, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if someone had been getting the mail; evidently they had.

I pulled out the stack of envelopes and flipped through them. Most were the usual accumulation of bills—electric, water, cable, phone—and junk mail, but one piece looked out of the ordinary so I turned my attention to it first.

The plain manila envelope was thick and had nothing on the front but for the two address labels and a stamp. On the label in the center of the envelope was my name and address, typed in a neat font. On the label in the upper left corner was an unfamiliar name and address. I thought it had the ring of a law firm—Lewis, Lewis and Schmidt. The return address was for a town in Ohio.

As the coffeemaker gurgled and hissed, I perched on the edge of a barstool to open the mysterious package. Out of it I pulled a packet of papers, fastened together with a big alligator clip. Lying loose on top of the bound papers was a cover letter typed on heavy, high-quality stock. As I suspected, Lewis, Lewis and Schmidt was a law firm and evidently this letter was from the desk of Byron Allsley.

Dear Carson:

I was so sorry to hear about your father. He and I have known each other since before you were born. He was a good man and he’ll be greatly missed.

I helped your father with the legal technicalities that arose when he and your mother separated. Since then I have handled many of his private and financial affairs as well as various things of a more delicate nature, things he wouldn’t entrust to a stranger. It is in regards to some of those matters that I am contacting you.

Firstly, you will find a plain white envelope clipped to the front of the enclosed package. It is a letter that your father asked me to get to you in the event he did not return from his recent trip.

Secondly, you will find a variety of statements and documents that will, for the present, mean very little to you, though they are of great importance and should be kept in a secure location. They pertain to your father’s considerable estate. He has been saving and investing money for many years with the sole intention of providing you with financial stability and independence in the event of his untimely death.

Until you turn eighteen, the trust, of which I am Trustee, will issue you a monthly stipend that will more than cover your living expenses. Included in the enclosed packet is the checkbook, register, and debit card for that account and all the pertinent access and contact information.

Thirdly, in deference to you, your father has made me Executor of his will. Therefore, you won’t be bothered with all the minutia of settling his estate. The most important thing is that all his possessions are yours, free and clear of any liens. That includes the house and only the one vehicle. As a result of the accident, there were extensive damages to his truck. The insurance adjustor totaled it.

Should you have questions, and I’m sure you will, please don’t hesitate to call me.

I skimmed through the remainder of the letter where he expressed his condolences again and then listed phone numbers at which he was reachable.

Private and financial affairs? My dad? And a trust fund? That sounded like we were rich. What else was there that I didn’t know about my family, about my life? It seemed like a never-ending string of revelations lately—shocking revelations.

Putting Mr. Allsley’s letter aside, I plucked the envelope from beneath the clip and ripped it open. A lump formed in my throat when I saw that it was penned in my father’s bold, clear handwriting.

Carson:

Time ran out on me, kiddo, faster than I ever thought it would. I want you to know I wouldn’t have taken this trip if I’d felt like there was any other way, especially since it turned out like this. Maybe I made a little progress at least. You’ll know soon enough.

I am setting out today to find your mother, do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I want to find your sister. I believe we can save her, Carson. Of course, now it’s not “we”, it’s “you”. It’s all up to you. I don’t know what’s ahead for either of you, but I have faith in God’s plan, in His perfect will. And to Him, there are no lost causes. He’ll see you through whatever the future holds.

Don’t grieve for me, butterfly. I’ve moved on to a better place, a place where I can see you again one day. Don’t forget that.

I love you more than I could ever say. You are the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, my most valued treasure. You’re truly a light in the darkness.

Don’t give up. There’s always another way, another choice, another option. Make the most out of every minute. Do what you say and say what you mean.

Dad

The letter was typical of my father—short, to the point, without wasted sentiment. Even through my tears I had to laugh at the Porter wisdom he’d managed to impart there at the last. He had a saying for every occasion. Had.

I don’t know how long I sat in the kitchen like that, thinking, reminiscing, worrying, but it was long enough for Leah to be up and about.

When she stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, I poured us each a hot cup of coffee and put the envelope away for the time being. I’d bring it all out and mull it over after she’d gone.

Though I’m sure she could tell I was distracted, Leah and I still had a pleasant enough day. She undoubtedly expected some odd behavior from me, all things considered.

Her mom called just before supper, asked if I’d come home with Leah and eat with them. I politely declined with the excuse that I had some things to take care of around the house. I could tell she wanted to argue, but, wisely, she thought better of it and said nothing.

With Leah gone, I had some blessed peace. It was bittersweet, though. The quiet seemed so much more quiet, the encroaching darkness so much more threatening, the future so much more bleak. It did give me time, however, to hatch the beginnings of a plan, the first step in which was to get Derek to teach me how to “wield” as he called it. If I was to go forward with any plan that involved staying to fight, I’d need to know how to fight. And not just the things Dad had taught me. I needed to master the supernatural things, the things that I could possibly use to save both me and my sister. If that was possible.