Abediah Thornton

Chapter 11 - Sunday

She had let Charlie take the urn away with her in the end. She didn't know what to do with it and Charlie seemed to have a much better handle on who her father was than Abediah had on who her husband had been. Charlie probably knew what was best, she had reasoned.

She was very aware that there was much more she needed to know. There were many more questions her brain kept throwing at her. In an effort to try and get them out of her head so she had some space to think, she had started writing them down. She had spent hours after Charlie had left yesterday sitting at the kitchen table with a legal pad writing down every question that came to mind. In the end she was left with only that, questions. Lots and lots of questions and no Frank to ask them to.

She had planned on riding again today. She had decided it would be a good idea to walk the boundary line. It would give Edwin a little more than normal exercise and she would feel better. She always felt better when she was riding. She hadn't ridden the boundary line for many years now, since Edwin had started getting old. And since Frank drove past the far end of the farm every time he went into the city, they'd decided it made more sense for him to check it as he went past.

She had set out to ride. Brushed Edwin down, got out his bridle. She was all ready to go when suddenly, she just didn't want to anymore. She'd put Edwin back in his stall, given him a carrot and gone back into the house. She'd had another hot chocolate, written down a few more questions and now she was sitting in the nook, not reading her book. Her brain felt full, like there was no more space left for her to think or process. Part of her just wanted to go upstairs to bed and never come down. This morning, in the shower, she'd had a fleeting thought: if she slipped in the shower and died now, she wouldn't have to think about any of this this anymore! And then she'd realised she would be found naked however many days or weeks later, and this had been enough to abandon the idea. But that left her in exactly the same place. Still not knowing anything.

She gazed out at the mountains beyond the farm and watched as the wind twisted and moved the clouds, their shapes ever evolving, sometimes recognisable, often not.

Then suddenly, as though she had been waiting for it for a week, an idea struck her. She got up from the chair and headed into the den. On the far side of the room there was a desk. It was one of those really old ones, with the bits of wood that slide out at the side so the top can fold down and become a writing table. She knew that inside that desk there were lots of cubbies. It was years since she'd last seen it open. Once, when Frank had brought it into the house, she had asked him about it. He'd told her it was his father's and his brother had left it to him. He would use it for business, he'd said. Staring at the closed desk now she had a boiling thought, maybe this was where she could find some answers.

She moved quickly to the desk and pulled at the top, trying to open it. No luck. It was locked. Where would he keep the key? She shuffled through the few pots and jars displayed in the room. Then, having another idea, she headed back out to the hall. There, on the sideboard of the big French dresser, lay the small bag of 'personal effects' the police had brought. She opened the bag and found Frank's key ring. She took it back into the den, looking at each of the keys as she went.

She took the smallest, oldest looking key on the ring and pushed into the small keyhole at the top of the desk. It fit. Turning the key she stepped back as the top opened out and down. She leaned it back up again so that she could pull out the desk supports on each side before bringing the top down again and dropping it lightly onto the supports. She reached in and flipped on the small table lamp that Frank must have installed inside the desk.

She brought over a nearby chair and tucked herself under the desk. Each of the cubbies in front of her looked full to bursting with bits of information. Frank had never been a particularly organised person. There were no labels here. She wondered if there was a best way to work through the paper stuffed into every space in the desk. Probably not. One by one was probably the only way to proceed, she decided.

After reading several pieces of paper Abediah decided she would need to be more organised than Frank. Some of this paperwork was obviously going to be important. She needed a system. She stood again and moved over to the sofa on the opposite side of the room. She pushed it across the space so it was right behind her chair. She removed the cushions and Frank's pile of Cattle sales lists from the market, pouring those into the waste paper basket next to the desk. Now she had space.

After an hour Abediah rose and went to the kitchen. She came back with three cookies on a plate and a glass of water. She continued reading into the night. Each piece of paper was placed in a specific pile. Some things were bills related to the farm, some paid, some coming due soon. Some were correspondence between vets, other farmers, people they had bought cattle from. Some things were obviously very old, perhaps even left over from when Frank's father or brother had owned the desk. Some were much more personal.

At midnight Abediah reached into the top of the last cubby. She pulled out as much of the paperwork as she could hold and laid it all out on the desk. When she looked again at the desk she noticed that there was one more envelope left. It had been tucked in between one of the sides and the shelves of the desk, wedged in, making it both easy to locate and more secure than all the other randomly organised paperwork. With a little tug she pulled it out and turned it over. On the front of the envelope in Frank's untidy handwriting she read 'WILL'.