In His Bed (18+)

Chapter 40

I stabbed the last bite of casserole and brought it to my mouth, listening as Mom and Robert made small talk.

"The recipe is my wife's. Kathy-" he turned to gesture to me, "-your grandmother- used to make it all the time. It was always a big hit in the fellowship hall, but I think mine falls short..." His eyes grew distant as his voice trailed off.

"Did she pass on?" Mom prompted, gently.

Robert nodded. "Almost six months ago now. Cancer. It-" he swallowed, "it was a blow." His chin trembled, and Mom placed her hand over his.

After several silent moments, he continued. "When she was in hospice, we got to talking about regrets." Robert looked at me. "She told me that her greatest regret was never meeting you – that she'd given up the chance to have a relationship with you."

Unsure of how to feel about this, I asked, "Is that why you sent the letter?"

He nodded. "It took me months to work up the courage to write it; even longer to send it."

"Courage?" Mom questioned, hands moving to cradle her coffee cup.

His eyes lowered, ashamed. "Pride is a sin that I've always struggled with. It's difficult for me to own up to my mistakes." Pausing, he added, "Also, Robbie didn't paint a very flattering picture of you as a person, and I was unsure of how a meeting with you would go." He glanced, apologetic, at my mother.

I watched as her jaw clenched. Clearing her throat, she muttered, "Of course he did."

"And I was fool enough to believe him."

Mom picked up her coffee, "Can't say I'm surprised. No matter how vile he was being, Robbie just had this talent for manipulating things to make himself sound like the good guy."

I suppressed a snort.

Sounds like Faith.

Mom brought the porcelain to her lips, then stopped, setting it back down,

"I'm sorry; you were kind enough to invite us into your home, and here I am insulting your son-"

"It's alright," Robert assured her, "I have recently become very acquainted with the kind of man my son is. It's actually why I invited you over today."

"It is?" Mom asked.

Pressing a napkin to his lips, he sat up straighter. "Over the past week, I have had several very difficult conversations – the hardest was with Robbie."

"Oh?"

"I confronted him about you and Hailey." A steely hardness sharpened his tone. "Of course, he denied everything, but his demeanor and the way he reacted essentially confirmed exactly what you told me."

"You didn't have to do that-"

"I did."

"But-"

"Trust me, Denise, this was a necessary conversation. You see, Robbie didn't just lie to me about your character, his character, and the child support payments-" his eyes narrowed with a fiery rage, "he stole from me."

"What?"

His hand on the tablecloth tightened into a fist. "I paid the first five years of child support."

"What?"

"He was still in college when you were together, and I didn't want your pregnancy to derail his future, so I agreed to pay for the first five years of child support. I wanted to give him the chance to finish his education and get established."

"I don't understand..."

"He told me that he was using my money to make his payments, but he was just pocketing it instead."

My mother sat, stunned speechless.

"That's why two of the other conversations I had this week were with my accountant and my estate planning attorney."

Glancing over at Mom, I didn't think she'd heard him, so I spoke, "What do you mean?"

Robert glanced from Mom to me, meeting my confused stare. "I mean that my son owes you and your mother a considerable amount of money, and since he seems unwilling to pay that debt, it's up to me to see that you get paid."

What?

Stammering, I objected, "Y- you shouldn't have to pay for him. My dad-"

Robert brought up his mug "Oh, he's paying – the money is coming out of his inheritance."

My mind went blank as my jaw dropped.

Swallowing a sip, he explained, "Eighteen years of child support, plus interest. I'm also taking back those five years' worth of payments he swindled out of me, but I'll be keeping that money." He frowned, "Or maybe donating it to charity – I haven't decided."

Mom brought her hand up to her lips. "This... this is-"

"A lot to process, I'm sure. I apologize for the shock, but I'm not sure there is a good way to break this news."

"Robert, I-"

"I would also like to arrange a meeting to discuss how best to transfer the money to you – and while we're at it, I also want to set up a trust fund for Hailey's education."

Mom looked over at me, eyes dazed and disbelieving.

"Whether she ends up going to community college or a four-year university or, I don't know, clown school, that money would be there for her to further her studies in whichever field she chooses."

"I- I mean, I'm not going to argue with you, but are you sure?"

Robert took a breath, nodding. "I spent the last year coming to terms with my mortality and the cold truth that tomorrow isn't guaranteed. I don't have forever to right my wrongs – and my family has wronged you." Looking between the both of us, he continued, "Without the luxury of a time machine, this is the closest that I can get to fixing that mistake."

Movement under the table caught my attention, and I saw Mom's hand trembling against her thigh.

Reaching down, I took it in mine, squeezing lightly.

After a moment, Mom looked over, smiling shakily, before turning back to Robert.

"Okay."

The visit concluded with my mind in a haze, trying to comprehend the enormity of my grandfather's decision and the impact it could have on my future – on our futures.

It wasn't until we said our goodbyes and got into the car that I realized I wasn't the only one reeling.

Mom followed the route back to our apartment on autopilot, silent and seemingly lost in thought.

Then, as we passed the mall, she turned suddenly, pulling into one of the empty spaces at the very edge of the massive lot.

Parking, she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, walking a short distance away from the car.

Concerned, I stepped out, noticing the slight shaking of her shoulders and the muffled sounds of sobs.

"Mom?" Moving around the car, I stood by the trunk as she tried to compose herself.

"I'm- I'm fine; Just give me a minute."

This is not fine...

Ignoring her protests, I came up behind her, placing my hand on her back.

"I just-" she spoke haltingly, her voice ragged with emotion, "I spent eighteen years telling myself that I'd never even get an apology, and now..."

Watching as she wiped her cheeks, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me.

Together, we cried under the gunmetal sky; tears of rage, vindication and relief.