Claiming His Christmas Inheritance

by C. J. Carroll

  Zed laughed.

  Anton grabbed the salt shaker and tossed it from hand to hand. He finally sat the shaker down and gave Zed a level stare. “I say this because I love you, man. I think of you and what comes to mind is that the Lone Ranger rides again. The blustery cowboy with an iron heart that doesn’t need anybody or anything. Here’s the thing. I don’t believe it’s all fake with Tasha. You’re different since her. Maya noticed it, too. While your arrangement started out a business thing, maybe it’s serendipity that God put you together—two people who shunned the thought of love and commitment. Bro, you’ve got one of the biggest hearts of anyone Maya and I have ever known. I think God gave you that for a reason.”

  The waiter arrived with Zed’s drink and refreshed Anton’s. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I forgot to ask how you wanted your burger.”

  “Well-done,” Zed said.

  “Good. Because they already started cooking it and it’s way past the rare stage now.”

  Zed suppressed a chuckle.

  When the waiter left, Zed turned his attention back to his friend.

  “Some advice for you, bro,” Anton began. “The Lone Ranger reruns were cool when we were kids. All stoic and full of bravado. A man’s man. But really, it’s sad. To never connect to anybody, to never receive love or give it. I think you need to ask yourself a question. Where do the lies and truth meet in your life?” Anton looked at his watch. “I better get going. Maya will be buggin’ if I’m not home soon. She’s got some couples yoga thing she wants us to attend together.” Anton tentatively held out a hand for a fist bump. “So are we cool?”

  “Yes, my friend.” Zed nodded and returned his fist bump.

  “You just called me friend. That’s gotta be a good sign,” Anton declared.

  He dug a few dollar bills from his wallet and placed them on the table. “I think you’ve got a short window of time to do the work in here—” Anton pointed to his heart “—or it may be too late.”

  “Too late for what?” Zed asked.

  “That’s for you to figure out. Later, man.” His friend turned and walked out of the restaurant.

  Even though Anton’s honesty stung, Zed was grateful for the friendship. He knew he could always trust Anton to be real and transparent and not play games. His relationship with Anton was all the more important when he considered his relationship with his dad. Zed took a gulp of his beverage, washing the cool, fizzy liquid around in his mouth before swallowing.

  He and his father hadn’t been on speaking terms before his sudden death of a heart attack.

  All his life, his dad played a game of giving or taking his love, depending on Zed’s actions. When he was younger, he’d desperately tried to please his father. He’d jumped through every hoop, met every demand—tried to be perfect. But because he was human, and by nature imperfect, he was doomed to failure. His father’s way of loving was skewed, unhealthy and dysfunctional.

  He’d called his father on the carpet about his actions, finally putting his foot down, refusing to give in to his father’s cat and mouse game of love. And his father had cut off communications. The memory brought tears. Ashamed, he quickly wiped them away with his fist.

  And people wondered why he thought relationships were messy, unwieldy. He bit his lip. Anton had criticized his lone-ranger mentality, and his points were valid, but Zed saw it from another perspective. Maybe the Lone Ranger was alone, but where Anton was wrong is that the Lone Ranger did have love. The one person he could depend on was himself. The one person he had control over loving was himself. And nobody could take that away.

  That was where he saw the difference between himself and his mother. She’d let his father’s actions and feelings toward her define her value and worth, and it had destroyed her.

  Zed knew there was a reason the cowboy character had been a hero to him. The Lone Ranger hadn’t waited for someone else to validate him. He was his own hero.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Conflicting feelings rolled through Zed as he drove to the Victorian. He’d made a decision about a few things after his talk with Anton. As much as he’d wanted his childhood home, to his shock, he realized it wouldn’t be the same without Tasha. And letting her go was the best thing he could do for her to save her from him because he didn’t know if he could give her all of his heart.

  Though Tasha was still there with him in body because she was honorable about her commitment, it wasn’t the same. The Victorian was just brick and mortar without the true meaning of home as a haven and a place of love, which the home had once symbolized.

  He would tell his lawyer to sell the mansion to developers. The place mocked him. It seemed like an empty shell to him now. It was the end of an era, and it needed to be demolished.

  Though he knew he’d made the right decision, his heart ached.

  When he arrived at the Victorian, he parked out front and sat staring at the historic gem—a place that would soon be no more. It was a metaphor for his life. Time to move on. He texted his lawyer about selling before moving the truck into the garage. As he exited the garage, his neighbor, Mrs. Talmadge, waved at him.

  “Afternoon, neighbor,” she said cheerily.

  “Hey, Mrs. Talmadge.”

  She was in her pajamas and pink robe. Her bottle-dyed platinum-blond hair was tied up in a matching pink scarf. Wispy curls peeked out from the edges. She had a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper was nestled under her other arm. “How are you and the new little missus doing?”

  “Not so good, Mrs. Talmadge.”

  Compassion poured from her eyes. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

  “It happens,” he said. He picked up his stride, hoping to communicate he was in a hurry, and gave Mrs. Talmadge a friendly wave. He felt her eyes on him as he neared the back door.

  “I’m sure you don’t need or want advice from an old lady,” she said.

  Zed guessed the elderly woman was ignoring his silent body language cues that indicated he wished to be left alone.

  “But I’m past the age of caring what people think,” Mrs. Talmadge continued. “You young folks act surprised when lovey-dovey feelings disappear and when storms roll through. Like it was unexpected. But it’s natural. Love is not a feeling. It’s a commitment. One thing I know—that gal loves you. She looks at you like you are the sun, moon and stars.”

  Guilt gut-kicked him. Mrs. Talmadge’s words confirmed his suspicions and the mistake he’d made cooking up such an impossible scheme to save the house. It hadn’t been worth the emotional collateral damage.

  Mrs. Talmadge smiled. “You look so much like your daddy. But the funny thing is, you’re your mother through and through.”

  Her words stopped him in his tracks. Most people compared him to his father.

  “I hit a nerve,” she said.

  He grimaced. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. T. I loved my mother. But I hated how she gave my father the power to validate her worth. She always said she was nothing without him.”

  Mrs. Talmadge walked farther up her fence until she was closer to him. “Could that be why you keep your heart more secure than Fort Knox?”

  Zed stopped and turned around. Mrs. Talmadge’s expression was determined. Her chin jutted out. Her legs stood apart, as if she was prepared for a fight. “My family and I knew your Grandma Gigi. Even though I was just a little girl, I realized the woman was as close to perfect as they come, but she had her flaws.”

  Zed sighed. “Nobody’s perfect,” he said. Least of all, me. Far from it.

  “I’ve never seen somebody with so much love in their heart. She had so much to give. And she gave it. She was like the real Pied Piper. She was always having less fortunate kids over at the house. She even temporarily put some of them up for a while, if they were having problems at home.” Mrs. Talmadge chuckled. Then seriousness hardened her features again.

  �
��But in giving all that love, all those pieces of her heart, nobody would have ever figured what would happen. Your dad lost out. She loved him the best she could, but it’s like she belonged to the world. And she didn’t have much left for him.”

  She paused and looked up at the bright blue sky. “I studied on it over the years. How could someone be so loving, yet their very family be deprived of their love? My husband, Hughes—God rest his soul—came up with the best answer. He said your grandmother loved your grandfather something fierce. When he died in that terrible accident, she was beyond devastated. And lost, I think. My husband said maybe mothering all the neighborhood kids was her way of trying to fill in for the great love she lost.”

  Zed gulped. He swallowed back tears for Gigi—and for his dad. He’d had no idea...

  “Motherhood doesn’t come with a training manual. We often learn as we go. We make mistakes. Your grandmother loved your father the best she could. But I think he felt cheated having to share her with others. I believe he made an unconscious vow to protect his heart, to never let himself be vulnerable enough for anyone to have that much power over him to hurt him.

  “So he only gave part of himself. To your mother, and to you, too. He poured himself into his work to fill that hole inside him, just like Gigi did with mothering those kids.” Mrs. Talmadge paused and momentarily stared past him, before continuing. “As a Black man, his fight for respect in his career was an uphill battle. I think when he finally found success, it made it sweeter. He thrived on that acceptance he got through his career, as a Black man who was finally accepted and valued.”

  If he was honest, Zed was like his father in this way, too. He prided himself in being one of the youngest deans at the university because of his expertise and acumen. Admittedly, he enjoyed the honor and acceptance that came with that.

  “I think the respect your father got was a substitute for love he so badly craved for himself but couldn’t give to others. But I also heard that part of his workaholic ways were so that you would have a better life and wouldn’t have to suffer the impact of racism in the same way he did.”

  This declaration punched him in the gut. Had his dad’s extreme focus on his career been his way of showing love and taking care of his family?

  Mrs. Talmadge’s blue eyes studied him for a moment, then her Yorkshire terrier, Misty, yelped and barked from the sliding glass door. Her withered hand reached out and patted Zed’s arm. “You think you’ve won, because you’ve promised never to be like him, but have you, really?” Mrs. Talmadge observed him for a long moment.

  Her words hit him in the gut. “My father wasn’t exactly a role model. Did you and your family know about Violet-Sage?”

  Mrs. Talmadge’s eyes quickly widened and settled. “How did you find out about her?”

  “Does it matter?” He heard the cold steel in his tone.

  “Your father lived with the guilt of what happened.”

  Zed’s patience was strained. “Some kind of guilt. It wasn’t enough to stop him from seeing her,” he replied.

  Mrs. Talmadge shook her head. “He felt he owed her that much. To help take care of her.”

  “No offense, Mrs. Talmadge, but I don’t understand why you’re defending him. I watched my mother’s heart die on the vine.”

  Mrs. Talmadge stepped back from her fence. “You think Violet-Sage and your father were romantically involved?”

  He stared at her, speechless.

  “Violet-Sage was in love with your father’s best friend, Chance Weathers. Chance and your dad were close as brothers. Chance even lived in the Victorian for a spell, when his parents were having some family problems. Your father convinced Chance to join the air force with him. When Chance was killed in a training mission, your dad blamed himself. He privately met with Violet-Sage as a friend. To assuage his guilt, I believe, he gave her money every now and then to help her out.”

  Zed attempted to absorb Mrs. Talmadge’s news.

  “As I mentioned earlier,” she continued, “while you think you’ve won because you’re not like your dad, have you really? In a way, aren’t you just like him, by not fully opening your heart to anyone? How sad would it be to live in this world, and have all the world’s riches, but not experience the true riches of life—riches of the heart?”

  When he said nothing, she clucked her tongue. “Well, I’ve said my piece.” With that, she turned and walked back to her house.

  Zed suspected that she wished to leave him with his thoughts. His head hurt from all the thinking he’d been doing recently. But it couldn’t begin to compare to how his heart hurt.

  On his way into the house, he stopped to check the mail. He sifted through it as he walked. It was mostly advertisers’ circulars. A letter sailed from the pile to the floor. He picked it up, noticing his lawyer’s company emblem. After placing the other mail on a side table in the foyer, he ripped open the envelope from his lawyer.

  His heart skipped a beat when he saw another letter inside the envelope, in his aunt Zora’s handwriting. A yellow sticky was attached to it with a note from Michael, his lawyer.

  Your aunt Zora requested this letter be given to you near the end of your three-month marriage agreement.

  Zed had a feeling he needed to sit down to read the letter. He went into the living room and sank into an easy chair. He took a few deep breaths, then unfolded the letter. His heart warmed at seeing her familiar handwriting.

  My dearest nephew, I can imagine the shock on your face as you read this. Well, you know you shouldn’t be surprised (smile). Your old aunt was always full of sugar and vinegar. I’m guessing you probably had conflicted feelings toward my odd will and the unusual arrangement I requested. You probably wonder why I would put our family home in jeopardy, not knowing what your ultimate response would be to my request.

  Well, I felt it was worth the risk because I saw this big heart in you, even as a little boy—in the way you were often the little man of the house, how you fiercely loved your mother, and despite your father’s selfishness, you loved him, too. Which was your choice. You could have hated him. But you were the bigger man. And I was counting on the belief that God didn’t put all that amazing capacity to love in such a little boy without the desire for it to be shared.

  I am optimistic that your love for the Victorian made you move forward to honor my request. I don’t know how your three months turned out, but being a praying woman, who prayed for you all through the turmoil of your childhood, what I do know is how big our God is. And now that we, your family, are gone from the earth, your Heavenly Father is watching over you and cheering you on for the most blessed life—if you will open your heart and receive the gift of love He offers you, however that shows up.

  Because as much as you have a big heart to love others, God wants you to know love, too. I beg of you—break the family cycle. Don’t let your parents’ experience with love be your experience. I’m guessing you may think that you aren’t worthy or don’t deserve good things because of your past. Well, here’s a little secret—none of us does. But God in His kindness blesses us not because of us, but because of Himself. And in case you didn’t know, God did answer your prayer. Your mother did find love.

  Shocked, Zed dropped the letter. He didn’t know if his heart could take more secrets. He slowly picked up the correspondence and continued to read.

  Your mother’s last days she shared with me that she found out how much she’d been loved and valued by the Heavenly Father, who during all her hard times had been there, wanting to know her and show her who she really was—His precious, cherished, treasured daughter.

  My dearest nephew, know that although your mother and I are no longer physically with you, our love will always be.

  Forever and always.

  Aunt Zora

  Zed folded the letter and laid his head back on the easy chair. Memories from the past of moments in the
house played on the movie screen of his mind, both the sad and good moments. He was beyond grateful to learn that his mother had found God’s eternal love and she’d finally seen herself, through God’s lens, as valued and loved.

  He closed his eyes. “Lord, I want to forgive my parents for the ways they hurt me, I really do, just as You have forgiven me, as my Heavenly Father. Show me how.” He didn’t fight the tears that flowed. He felt, in a symbolic way, they were baptizing his past and washing it clean.

  * * *

  Tasha’s life was like a ship lost at sea. Everything she’d thought her future held was now in shambles. She and Zed were cordial at home, but mostly still avoided each other.

  The one thing stable in her life, ironically, was her blossoming relationship with her father. However, she needed to unpack their relationship history to move forward in a healthy way, so she was going to take him to dinner.

  When she arrived at the assisted-living facility, her father was waiting in the circular drive in his wheelchair. A nurse’s aide stood next to him. The woman helped her get her father into her car. His wheelchair was too big to fit in her tiny vehicle, so he’d brought his traveling cane. Although he could walk on his own, his balance was iffy sometimes.

  She had to suppress a smile. He looked so cute. His wavy salt-and-pepper curls were neatly combed and slicked back, like a little boy taking his first elementary school photo. He wore a fresh, new, mint-colored shirt and crisply pressed jeans. One shirt pocket held a pocket protector with a pen and pencil and his glasses. He wore a leather jacket she’d gotten at a good deal from the thrift store.

  After Tasha made sure he was securely in the vehicle with his seat belt on, she waved her thanks to the nurse’s aide, who waved back before pushing the wheelchair back into the facility.

  She let her father choose where he wanted to go, and he picked a classic all-you-can-eat chain restaurant. As she drove, he dipped his head out the window, like a happy dog gleefully enjoying the ride.