by Linda Warren
“Everyone feels that way,” Brenda added.
“Now that Mr. Brewster is gone, Jonas doesn’t feel that he can stay here.”
At that moment, Jonas walked over to them. He looked different today. He wore a dark suit, white shirt and a multicolored tie. She liked him in a suit. She liked him in jeans and chambray shirts. In fact, she liked Jonas in anything he wore—or didn’t wear. Her blood started to heat up at that thought.
“Hi,” he said to everyone.
“The service was beautiful,” Brenda said.
“Yeah, you did him proud,” Stuart added.
“I hope so,” Jonas replied. “I wanted everything just like he requested.”
Stuart shoved his hands into his pockets in a nervous gesture. “I was just telling Abby, I don’t know if I can work for Jules.”
“Sure you can,” Jonas insisted. “He’ll be one of those absentee bosses, and you, Perry and Juan will basically run things.”
“I don’t know, Jonas. I have a feeling Jules will jeopardize all our jobs.”
“I have to go. Please understand that,” Jonas said in a firm voice. He knew his friends didn’t understand his reasoning, but it was personal and he couldn’t explain it any further than that. As long as Abby understood, that was all that mattered.
Stuart and Brenda walked away, and Jonas stepped in front of Abby. “You do understand why I have to leave, don’t you?”
She fingered a button on his jacket. “I know it’s been your goal since you were fifteen and that it’s important to you, but…”
A man walked up and offered his condolences, interrupting her. After he left, Jonas turned back to her. “There are so many people here, and we need to talk.”
“Yeah,” she replied, glancing around at the crowd.
Edna whizzed past them giving instructions to a waiter. She was making sure everyone had enough food and drink. She was acting as Lady of the mansion and was obviously in her element.
Jonas stepped so close to her that Abby could smell his aftershave. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”
It’s what she’d been waiting for. “I’d like that.”
He took her hand and headed for the foyer. Mr. Foster, Mr. Brewster’s attorney, stopped them.
“I’d like to get the will read as soon as everyone leaves,” he said to Jonas.
“This evening?”
“Yes, Mr. Brewster wanted it read right after the funeral.”
“I see.” Jonas glanced at Abby, then back at Mr. Foster. “I guess it’s just as well to do it now. I’m ready to get out of here.”
Abby watched his face. He’d earned his freedom and he would take it. Again she hoped it was the right thing for him…and her.
“I’ll meet you in the dining room in ten minutes,” Mr. Foster said. “I’ll tell the others.”
“There’s no need for me to be there, so I’ll—”
Mr. Foster turned back. “Ms. Duncan, Mr. Brewster requested that you be there.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want anything from him.”
Jonas heard the anxiety in her voice and nodded to Mr. Foster. “Don’t worry, Abby,” he said, as Mr. Foster walked away. “Brewster knew how you felt. We discussed it a few days ago. The bulk of his estate will go to his family. He said they weren’t anything to brag about, but they were his family. He made me the executor, and I promised to carry out his wishes, which—” he sighed “—will probably be to make sure they don’t squander every dime.”
The tension inside her eased. She didn’t want anything of monetary value. He’d given her what she wanted: the article in the paper. That was all she needed—to know he cared enough to have done that.
A thought struck her. If Jonas was the executor, that meant he couldn’t leave right away. He’d have to take care of Mr. Brewster’s affairs. She wondered if he’d thought of that. Oh, damn, she wanted to talk to him…
As the last person left the mansion, Abby, Jonas, Edna, Jules and Darby made their way to the dining room. Mr. Foster was already there, with his briefcase and papers strewn on the table. He motioned for Jonas to sit next to him. Abby sat beside Jonas, while the other three took seats across the table.
“I’ll make this short and simple,” Mr. Foster began, adjusting his glasses. “Mr. Brewster wanted this done after the funeral so everyone could get on with their lives.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Edna said, shifting in her chair.
“Mr. Brewster thought so.” Mr. Foster picked up a legal document. “It’s really very simple. He left monetary amounts to several members of his staff who have been with him for years. He left monetary amounts to the hospital and clinic so they can continue to operate without difficulty.” He pushed papers to the center of the table. “Here are the amounts, if anyone would like to read them.”
Edna immediately snatched up the papers.
Mr. Foster started to read. “‘To the following people, I bequeath one million dollars each—Edna Kline, Jules Kline and Darby Combs.’”
“What!” Edna shoved the other papers away in anger. “Who gets the—?” Her eyes settled on Abby. “Oh God, that stupid bastard.”
“Mrs. Kline, please,” Mr. Foster appealed.
Edna waved a hand. “Go ahead. I’d love to hear the rest of this nonsense.”
Abby’s stomach felt like one big knot, and she couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding.
Jonas was confused. From his talks with Brewster, he had assumed that the bulk would go to Edna, Jules and Darby. Evidently he’d been wrong. He’d told Abby she didn’t have to worry, but it seemed that Brewster had changed his mind. Jonas didn’t know how she was going to react to this.
Mr. Foster focused on the document in front of him. “‘To my daughter, Abigail Duncan…’”
Oh, please, no, don’t do this to me. She clenched her hands so tight that she felt her nails dig into her palms. She wanted to get up and run from the room, but she couldn’t move. She could only listen to Mr. Foster’s words.
“‘I would like to say I’m sorry. I know you don’t want anything from me, but I could not leave this earth without acknowledging you in some way. You have so much talent, and the only way I could think of to encourage that talent was to give you a voice to explore and expand your capabilities. So I bequeath to you the Hope Herald and its monies to use as you see fit. Use it wisely, Abigail.’”
Her insides trembled. It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Mr. Brewster had given her the one thing she couldn’t refuse. How could he know her so well?
He is my father. We have the same genes and the same stubborn pride, her heart answered.
“Now for the bulk of the estate,” Mr. Foster said, withdrawing a long legal document.
Everyone waited. Mr. Foster cleared his throat. “Mr. Brewster has written a letter that he’s instructed me to read. Please remain silent until I finish.” He glanced at Jonas. “The letter is to you.”
Jonas swallowed. “I’d much rather read it in private.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brewster wanted it read aloud.”
Jonas nodded, knowing Brewster had planned everything to the end, in control as always. Somehow Jonas knew that the words he would hear now would touch his very soul. He braced himself.
Mr. Foster began to read. “‘Jonas, you and I started out on shaky ground, but over the years that ground has become solid and secure. We have worked together, argued together and built Brewster Farms into what it is today. You learned everything I taught you with an eagerness and intellect that always surprised me. All the laborers respect you and the locals admire you. You became the man I wanted my son to be.
“‘I know you have toiled each day with one goal in mind—freedom. At fifteen you used to mark each day with a big X on the calendar. You did that for a whole year, then you went back to school and began to learn and grow, and the calendar was put aside. It’s in my safe if you’d like to have it.
“‘Even though you didn’t mark the
days any longer, you were still marking time in your head. Each day meant you were closer to freedom, closer to leaving Hope and me behind. That never changed, and I hate to take that away from you, but I want to do what’s best for you and for Hope.
“‘At this point I know you’re getting angry, but please try to hear what I’m saying. Over the past twenty years you and I have argued on numerous occasions. A couple of times you left, but you always returned. This last time you left because I had hurt Abigail, and I didn’t think you were coming back. But you did. There’s a reason for that. You return because Brewster Farms is your home. It has been for a long time.
“‘Love is an emotion that’s not easy for me. We are much alike in that, but I’ve loved you as much as anyone in my life. So forgive me for what I’m about to do, but I feel it is only right. This is my last bequest. The rest of my estate, my monies and holdings in land, especially Brewster Farms, I bequeath in its entirety to the man who deserves it, Jonas Parker.’”
Abby glanced at Jonas. His sun-browned skin was white, and he gazed straight ahead with a dazed expression. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him, but he was in a place she couldn’t reach. She recognized that he had to handle the contents of the letter in his own way.
Jonas stared across the room, seeing nothing, but hearing those words over and over inside his head. He wasn’t breathing or moving. He was only hearing a jumble of phrases that had him caught in a vortex of emotion.
You became the man I wanted my son to be…. The calendar is in my safe if you’d like to have it…. Brewster Farms is your home. It has been for a long time…. I want to do what’s best for you and for Hope…. I’ve loved you as much as anyone in my life.
The words held him, and he could feel his heart beating with the same intensity as that scared, lonely fifteen-year-old’s. His hand tightened with the same excitement as when he’d marked off each day on the calendar. His eyes burned with the same emotion as when he’d received his diplomas and Brewster had sat in the front row. All those feelings jolted through him, and freedom became something he could see clearly. He was free. He’d been free for a long time. His stubborn pride was the only part of him that wouldn’t admit it. God, he’d been free all along. Why hadn’t he seen that before?
Everyone’s eyes were on him. He got up and slowly walked out of the room.
“Jonas,” Mr. Foster said, but he didn’t respond.
“What’s the matter with him?” Edna asked sharply. “You’d think he’d been given a death sentence.”
Abby quickly followed him. “Jonas,” she called, but he kept walking. She was still in a state of shock herself, but she knew Mr. Brewster was right. This was Jonas’s home. That’s why she’d had so many doubts about his leaving. She’d said she didn’t want a thing from Mr. Brewster. Now she did. She wanted Jonas’s happiness. And happiness was here at Brewster Farms—with her. In a flash she knew that. She was Abe Duncan’s daughter and she belonged in Brewster’s valley…as did Jonas.
Jonas stood at the bottom of the steps and glanced beyond the mansion, to the gates and fields of vegetables and fruits, to the workers settling back to their jobs after the funeral.
I want to do what’s best for you and for Hope…. Brewster Farms is your home. It has been for a long time…. I’ve loved you as much as anyone in my life.
He suddenly realized why he’d wanted to leave. It had nothing to do with freedom. It had to do with his feelings for Brewster. Over the years, they’d had their ups and downs, but Brewster was always there, always a guiding force in his life. The truth behind those words surged through him. Without Brewster…without him… Oh God, he loved that old man. That’s why he’d been so set on leaving. He didn’t want to face these feelings, but now…
“Jonas.”
He heard her voice and turned toward it. He blinked. Where was he? He hadn’t even realized he’d left the room.
“Jonas, are you all right?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I…”
“He loved you,” she said softly. “And he’s right. This is your home and it’s where you belong.”
“But he’s not here, Abby. He’s gone.” As he said the words, tears began to roll down his cheeks. “Oh God, he’s gone.”
Abby ran down the steps and held him. Jonas clung to her and allowed himself to cry—to grieve—for Brewster, the man he had loved.
They stood for a long time just holding each other. Finally Abby whispered into his shoulder, “You were like a son to him.”
He sucked air into his raw throat. “I know.” He rubbed his face against hers. “I just wish he had told me what he was planning to do.”
“He knew that if he did, you would refuse his gift. I think he hoped that after his death you wouldn’t be able to do that.”
This place had been Jonas’s whole life. It was a part of him, just as Brewster had said. But how did he accept this? How did— “I can’t be happy here without you,” he uttered in a miserable voice.
She drew back and looked into his eyes. “Why is that?” she asked.
He gazed into her eyes and the words rose up from his heart without any difficulty. “Because I love you.”
A smile lit her face, and she quickly brushed away tears. “I love you, too.”
He kissed her deeply, passionately, until the world spun away, leaving only this wonderful feeling of love and being loved. After a moment, he rested his forehead against hers. “How do we handle this? Your job’s in Dallas. I’ve waited a long time to have these feelings I have for you, and I can’t stay here unless you’re with me.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” She smoothed the lapel of his jacket.
“Why?”
“I suddenly have this newspaper to run and I can’t do that from Dallas.”
Brewster’s other gift—the Hope Herald. “That means you’re coming home?” Home. It was such a beautiful word, he thought.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “To you, to Hope and to our future.”
He held her tightly. “Oh, Abby, I love you.”
“As long as I know that, we’ll be fine.”
He gazed into her bright eyes. “I do, so much.” He cupped her face and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for me to say that.”
She kissed his chin. “Well, you’ve said it now, Jonas Parker.” She smiled at him. “Maybe we’d better go back inside and ease Mr. Foster’s mind.”
“In a minute,” he said as he gazed at Brewster’s valley. Things looked so different now. He had mistakenly thought that without Brewster there was nothing here for him. But this was his home. It always had been. He glanced up at the sky and murmured a word of thanks to the old man who had given him more than he had ever dreamed possible…including Abby.
EPILOGUE
Four years later
“PERFECT, JUST PERFECT,” Abby said as she studied the front-page layout for the Hope Herald. “The picture is spectacular. Steve, you did a wonderful job. You captured the essence of my story. The image of the little girl hanging from the international bridge fence with one hand and begging with the other is so poignant. And that look on the American tourist’s face tells all. She’s trying not to look at the child, but you can almost see her hand coming out of her pocket.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Parker, I’m glad I did your story justice,” Steve said.
Abby glanced around at the staff. The paper had come a long way. When she’d first started, there’d been three people who’d been with the Hope Herald for years. Now she had a staff of ten. It had been hard at first, but Abby had purchased new equipment with the money Mr. Brewster had put into the Herald account. His generosity had made her determined to turn the Hope Herald into a competitive newspaper. She was succeeding. In the past four years, the circulation had quadrupled and several articles were being picked up by the Associated Press. One of her border stories had won an award last May. Mr. Brewster would have been proud.
; “Let’s put this one to bed,” she smiled. “Great job, everyone.”
People got up to leave. “One more thing,” Abby said. “I’m busy this evening. If anything comes up, Bridget or Hank will handle it. Right?” She gave Bridget, her secretary, and Hank, her assistant, a questioning glance.
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
Abby gathered up her papers and headed for her office. She laid the papers on her desk and stood for a moment, a smile lingering on her face. These days she knew exactly who she was—Abigail Duncan Parker. And Abigail Duncan Parker had plans for tonight. Big plans with her husband.
Their lives had been so busy for the past four years. They’d had many transitions to make. She’d quit her job and moved from Dallas to Hope. They’d lived in Jonas’s apartment the first year because they couldn’t bring themselves to move into the mansion. Edna, Jules and Darby had contested the will to no avail and were shocked to learn that their money had been put into a trust fund—which Jonas controlled—and they were each allotted five thousand a month. Edna and Jules moved to Houston, and Darby moved to Las Vegas. Jonas only heard from them when they ran short of money.
Abby’s relationship with her mother was good, and she was glad they’d been able to work through the heartache. Earl’s relationship with his mother had also improved. He’d married his girlfriend three years ago and last year had become the proud father of a baby girl. Aunt Sybil had refused to go to the wedding, but she was crazy about her granddaughter.
Holly came to visit often, and Abby was trying to talk her into working for the Herald, but so far she hadn’t succeeded. Holly enjoyed big city life.
Jonas had had his hands full with the Brewster estate. He’d made Stuart manager of Brewster Farms and that had worked out very well. It had given Jonas the time he needed to take over Mr. Brewster’s seat on numerous boards, including the bank, the school, the water and the chamber of commerce. The money, the power, didn’t change Jonas. He still wore his chambray shirt and jeans, and when he wasn’t occupied with business, he could be found working side by side with the laborers.