The Trust

Part 36: The letter

The funeral was well attended; Uncle Jack would have liked that. Despite the town being angry at our family, the news of his death sent shockwaves throughout Grey Harbour. Everyone knew Jack — he either worked with them, chatted with them at the local coffee shop, helped them build a shed or loaned them money. The church was so packed, they had to put extra seats in the foyer.

I go through it all in a daze, probably still in shock since finding him that awful morning. I don't know what happened. They're labelling it an accidental overdose — he had a heart condition that worsened over the past few weeks with the stress of everything, and he wasn't supposed to mix his heart medication with alcohol. The combination was fatal and just like that, we lost the heart of the family, the thread that bound us all together and the closest thing to a father Julie and I ever had. 

I don't want to think too hard about whether it was accidental or something more horrible so I go with what the officials say. One thing I do know for sure: Uncle Rob killed him. He may not have poured the booze and pills down his throat, but he might as well have.

I burn with rage all throughout the funeral, keeping a watchful eye on the door and every single person who came in. After the initial shock of his death wore off and as we dealt with the  grief, the family turned to speculating about whether Rob had the audacity to show his face at the funeral — after all, it was his older brother. But there was a national warrant out for his arrest; he got too greedy involving the town council and residents of Grey Harbour. If he'd kept his scam to just the family, he might have gotten away with it, it's very hard to prove this kind of thing when it involves family members who are often too embarrassed to press charges. But he had caused a scandal; news of the town's foolish investment hit the local papers first, then went national. The mayor resigned and town council was in an uproar. 

Divorces, bankruptcies, foreclosures, lost jobs, family bonds fractured beyond repair and one death. All for a little bit of money. 

It kept me up at nights — the 'why.' Why would anyone burn their family and hometown like this? How much money could he have gotten in total? $100,000? $200,000? That's not enough to steal away to the Bahamas forever; it's barely enough to cover a year's expenses if you're living large, the way Rob likes to. 

Even the hardest criminal, the most ruthless gang member wouldn't screw over his family for a bit of money.

So why did he do it? 

I didn't sleep for five minutes the night before Jack's funeral and it showed. There were deep hollows under my eyes and I looked like a ghost. I didn't bother applying makeup or wearing any of my fancy outfits that I bought when I believed in this mess. I gave most of that stuff away to charity anyway. Instead, I chose a simple black dress and coat to say goodbye to my favourite uncle who died too soon. Sure he was in his late 60s but before this all happened, he was healthy, looking about 10 years younger. A lifetime hauling lobster and fighting the waves kept him lean, trim and strong. This past few months aged him beyond recognition, and stole him from us.

I move through the day as if in a dream, consoling my mother who said Uncle Jack was like a big brother to her, and my sister who said that when she was little she always thought he was the real Santa Claus. Jake delivered a beautiful service, as always, but I could barely pay attention to it, if I did I might fall apart and I had to be strong for Audrey, Mom and Julie.

Later, with my pumps sinking into the dirty snow at the graveside, the reality of it hits me like a freight train. Everyone left but Jake and I. 

"Are you cold," he says finally. "No," I lie, shivering.

"Is the family having a gathering?"

"Nope. No one feels like it. Jack's kids are getting on a plane this afternoon and flying back. I couldn't bear to look at them this afternoon, they're shattered."