by Olga Menson
She was smiling.
"I kind of expected you to have a dog. It seems like there should be a dog keeping you company while you make breakfast. Maybe begging for some bacon?"
"An astute observation," I said smiling, a little ruefully, "Jones passed on a little while ago. He was a good boy who lived a long time and had a good life. Been meaning to get a puppy at some point but...it just hasn't seemed like the right time."
It hadn't been the right time for a lot of things, I reflected. I hadn't seen any women or written a single word since my wife died. I hadn't ridden a horse since then either, though I did find homes for the two that we kept. Good ones, with kids who would love them. I kept the dog. He was more my wife's than mine, but we got along fine and always had. He looked out for me and I was happy for him to be there. He passed right after Bill. After that, it just felt easier to be alone than to lose anything else.
"I'm sorry," her face fell a little bit.
I smiled at her.
"Don't worry about it. He'd of liked you I think. He was a retriever mix and he always seemed to charm all the ladies."
Then she noticed the food.
"Breakfast smells amazing. And I'm starving. I actually wanted to get up earlier and help you with it..."
"Not today," I said, gesturing for her to sit.
"Tomorrow then," she said, smiling impishly. I could get used to that smile.
"If you want. I'm going to be working on the barn today. I figured you could get settled and decide what you want to do. You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Any daughter of Bill's is family to me, really. We do have some inheritance stuff to discuss, but that can wait until you're ready."
She seemed a little surprised.
"Wait. What kind of inheritance?"
"Bill left me his land and house. Since you're his daughter that would rightfully belong to you. I don't know if you would want it but we can also figure out the market value and I could purchase it from you, so to speak. The important thing is that you feel like you've been treated fairly."
Now she was stunned. It was the first time I'd seen her unsure what to say. It was kind of adorable.
"Um. I...I'm not sure what to say. Don't you want proof that I am who I say?"
I did, truthfully, but I also realized overnight that it might be much harder to provide than I first considered. Would his name be on her birth certificate? If it wasn't, did that mean anything? A woman giving birth in a small town out of wedlock might put nothing or the name of the man she ended up settling down with down as the father. And it wasn't like I had a lot of Bill's DNA just hanging around to compare with hers.
"Well, I figured we'd talk about that too. 'Good enough' proof is what my wife would call it. I'm not a lawyer or a bank and I don't need three forms of ID. Your story checked out with what I knew of Bill. He'd never abandon a child. Ever. I'm sure of that. But I'm equally sure that he sowed his seed all over the place, pardon my phrasing, and it wouldn't be hard to imagine that he had a child that he wasn't aware of. Just think about it."
"I, uh...I will. Thank you. Really." she wasn't smiling at all now, and I hoped I hadn't been too serious.
"Don't worry too much about it though. That can be taken care of pretty much any time I go to town. For the time being, just relax. Go for a walk if you want. There are paths that lead up into the woods or down by the river. Just don't go off the paths or stay out too late. We do get bears and cougar around here. They tend to leave well enough alone, but you never know."
The day passed pretty much as expected. I finished the first part of my repairs to one of the horse stalls and then joined her for lunch. She had a tablet and she told me she was checking airfares and considering going home. I asked her about her mother.
"She passed a few months ago. That's why I'm here," was all she would say. I didn't press her, but it sure seemed like "home" didn't hold a lot of appeal to her.
She said she was going for a walk that afternoon and I repeated my warnings like the old man I felt like. By the end of the day, I had finished up work on the floor of the hayloft where some wood had rotted away and become dangerous. I was sweaty and tired but felt some accomplishment. And I looked forward to dinner with company. I don't think either of us really expected how that went.
-- Gemma --
Was he just going to give me land or money? Without any tangible proof? How stupid was my father, anyway? How did someone like this con my mom into sleeping with him? We didn't always get along but my mother cared for me in her own way, and she was smart. Everyone knew that. Well, I guess love makes fools of everyone from time to time. I considered how I could work this to my advantage.
Could I fleece him twice? Once to get cash for the land and then somehow figure out his account numbers to take the rest? Would that even be possible? I looked at airfares back home to California. And then I looked at trips to Europe. I didn't have a passport yet but I could get one. It sounded like I was coming into at least a hundred grand.
As he left to go outside and start work I reflected that the tank top and shorts had been a perfect choice. He hadn't been able to look away from me when I came into the kitchen. He forced his eyes elsewhere, but for a moment he had been obviously filled with desire. It wasn't a shock. I knew what men wanted, especially from girls like me who looked a certain age. I could be seductive and radiate innocence. I'm just an oh-so-naive girl who hasn't even lost her virginity, sir, won't you protect me? Worked every time on men like him.
When dad came home at lunch he was a pleasant distraction. I pretended to be agonizing over where to go so that he'd inevitably ask me to stay. We talked about the weather turning soon to rain and probably snow not long after that. He told me about the horses that he used to have out in the barn. I was actually kind of surprised. I'd always loved horses as a child like a lot of girls seem to, but I'd never really grown out of it. But horse ownership isn't really something a poor city girl can really have on her agenda. He, naturally, offered to take me riding if I wanted. I wanted very much to do so, but I suppress the urge. It wasn't worth risking the payday.
No attachments from my end. To anyone. Ever. That was what I told myself.
After lunch, I went out for a walk, although I wanted to get back well in advance of my father. I needed uninterrupted time to search the house. The day was cold and it was as if I could feel winter pushing autumn out of the way despite it only being October. I took a path that went north through the woods and then meandered back by the river.
The rushing water looked icy cold even now, and the rocks beside it were slippery and moss-covered. I didn't get close, but I did wonder if it would be getting worse soon. Lots of rain was forecast fairly soon, but the house was significantly higher in elevation so flooding shouldn't be an issue. There was something about the grey autumn sky, the low hanging cloud layer, and the muddy water which felt deeply foreboding to me. I didn't like it, so I went home. I'd spent more time than I had intended but he was still out working on the barn so I decided to risk a quick search.
I started upstairs. It seems like he left the doors open, usually being the only person around. That would give me an excuse if he caught me snooping. I found something that looked like an office. It had an unobstructed view out back to the barn so if I kept checking I should have no chance of being caught. The walls were lined with inset bookshelves, probably made by hand, that was filled by books. A lot of them looked like duplicates, which didn't make much sense, but I wasn't really interested in them, yet. There were two desks, one large and oak that looked relatively recent and one small roller top that looked like it was an antique. I started with the roller top but it mostly had correspondence in a feminine hand and a lot of bills and receipts. Could this be where his wife worked? It seemed like she shipped things all over. In any case, there was nothing of value so I moved to the other desk.
I started finding items of interest right away. There was an old laptop there that was open and unlocked. Diving in I saw
a lot of online bill sites...and writing software? I found file after file of writing. Interesting to be sure, but no inherent value, unless. I finally turned to the walls of the room and understood. The books almost all listed the same author. The name wasn't my father's but when I picked one up and read the bio on the back jacket a lot of details matched up. Just a boy from California who became a bit of a rancher, lived with his wife, horses, dog, blah blah blah.
Huh. My dad wrote western mystery novels under a pseudonym. That explained why he didn't seem to have a job. He probably didn't need to work beyond this. He had at least two different series of books, one historical and one modern. I'd seen them probably a million times in bookstores and had dismissed them as work for middle-aged women with cowboy fantasies. I smiled. There was definitely money here.
I looked back outside. Shit. He was coming back. In a moment of inspiration I grabbed one of his books and ran downstairs. I lay back on the couch in the living room and looked like I was engrossed at the start of the book. That would earn me a gold star for sure.
He came inside, filthy with sweat, dirt, and dust from the hayloft. He smelled but it was of honest work, clean sweat, and...it was kind of wonderful.
"You reading that tripe?" he said laughing but clearly pleased, "I've heard that the author is kind of a hack."
"I don't know, I think he looks handsome on the back of the book," I beamed my most inviting smile at him, "and the story is kind of riveting."
Ironically, when I did eventually read it, I loved it, although I sat down with him and told him about all the writing and plot choices that I thought were mistakes. I guess I'll always be my mother's daughter to some degree.
"I'll grab a shower and then I'll start dinner," he said, smiling, like always
"OK, but I can get started now if you tell me what we have," I was going to be the best houseguest of all time. In a week or so he'd be used to me cooking and cleaning. The only worry I had was when his wife would get back. Would she be as easy to fool as he was? Or would she be the suspicious type? Granted if she were jealous, that could work in my favor as I drove a wedge between them by being both sexy and innocent. But he hadn't mentioned her. Had she left him? Had something happened to her? I'd have to ask sooner or later if he didn't mention her.
"Well, I was thinking of frozen lasagna, to be honest. Got some salad makings too."
I laughed.
"I'll find it and get started. You just wash up, stinky."
He left and I started the oven. I decided to make the salad look a little fancy. I had taken care of myself for years now and knew a few tricks from youtube. Nothing overly impressive, just making carrots look like flowers and shit like that. It would show that I cared. By the time he came back down the lasagna was almost done and I had two identical salad bowls that looked like a someone had spent a lot of effort on them. I guess I did, but it was pretty easy.
"Wow. That looks amazing," he said with obvious sincerity. Like a lot of the things he did.
For a moment. Just a single moment, I questioned what I was doing. I hadn't done once that since I had located him through my research. When I committed my effort and meager savings towards this plan and abandoned my life in L.A.
No. Being sincerely appreciative of my salad-making skills or even being kind sometimes didn't necessarily make him a good person or excuse what he had done in the past. I would stick to the plan. I just had to remember why I was doing this and not be weak. That made it easier. I knew firsthand what weakness got you. I would never be prey again, only a predator.
I made dinner that night from scratch. Nothing too serious, just salmon and vegetables, well cooked and seasoned. I also found some wine and was sure to serve him plenty throughout while having a little myself. He never once tried to stop me from drinking despite me being under twenty-one. Ok so that doesn't really mean anything but...ugh. I feel the need to point out all of his observed moral lapses because there were so few of them.
Anyway, my goal was to get him talking. He never talked about his wife, and I wanted to get him to admit to having a daughter if I could. I knew the truth but it would be good to hear it from him directly. There would be no more hesitation after that.
"So...I've been meaning to ask about the pretty blonde in all the pictures..." I opened.
He smiled, but his eyes were sad.
"That's Nina, my wife. She passed. It'll be three years this November."
"Oh," I felt a little bad for both bringing it up and because that wouldn't be a lever I could use on him, "I'm sorry. How?"
"It's ok. It does me good to remember her. It was cancer. Pretty quick, all things considered. Enough time to prepare, take a little trip, and then she was gone. Very little suffering. I suppose I should be grateful, but that's not the thing I could ever give thanks for. I'm selfish. I would have let her suffer if I could have held on to her for another month. Or day I guess."
He was pretty drunk at this point. Or I thought so anyway. I pushed.
"Did you guys have any kids?"
"No. We tried but it turned out she was infertile and by the time we were seriously considering adoption she was starting to get sick. And honestly, I don't think I'd make a good single parent."
The son of a bitch dared to even say that after leaving my mom alone. I kept my shit together, barely.
"What about before that?"
"Kids before that? No. There was someone once...I could have made a life with her."
I perked up.
"Who?"
"She was back in California, where I grew up. We were very young and in love. She was smart, beautiful, and never forgot a slight. Which was a problem for us since I, well..."
He got serious for a moment but then burst out laughing.
"Well I guess was I the probably the worst boyfriend ever. She dumped my ass and I came out here to the mountains, all sad and lonely, like a country music album. It was the best thing for me, honestly, and definitely the best for her."
My eyes narrowed and I gripped my chair tightly. He was lying to my face and laughing about it.
"How were you bad, exactly? You hit her? Cheat on her?"
It was a little too aggressive and I regretted it when he looked shocked. I told myself that I didn't feel guilty for saying those things.
"No," he chuckled, "I was just the most inconsiderate sonofabitch you'd ever seen. I forgot her birthday, brought up embarrassing shit in public, hell once I even flirted with another girl in front of her like it was no big thing. In my mind, I wasn't trying to sleep with her so it wasn't. Pretty pathetic stuff, honestly. I came out here and grew up fast."
That didn't line up with what mom had told me, but I wasn't surprised that he was minimizing. She had described him as truly awful in many ways but never liked to get specific. She did say he could be wonderful but his choices made him unacceptable. Mom really liked that word.
"So you moved on?"
"No. As a matter of fact I didn't, at first. I dated out here but I kept thinking about her. And I grew up, realized what I was like. So I wrote her a letter."
"A letter?" It did seem like the sort of old-fashioned thing a writer might do.
"Yeah. It was a very detailed apology with asides about how I had grown up since then. I asked her for another chance but I told her that I'd respect whatever she said."
"Did she reply?" I hadn't heard about any of this before so it was probably a lie, but it was best to hear all of it.
"She did. It was brief. Polite though. Very. It didn't feel like she still felt the kind of spite that she did when she gave me the boot. She accepted my apologies and said that she appreciated that I could admit that I was wrong. She also said that she'd met someone and was quite happy with them and really didn't want me back in her life. I was sad about it but I respected her honesty. It was freeing. Let me move on, and eventually, I met Nina."
I changed the subject to the upcoming rain after that. I'd heard enough of his lies. I'd make him eat them soon.
Things went like that for a few days. I got up early to make breakfast, simple stuff, but he was over the moon. During the day he did repairs around the ranch and the house. There were a lot of things that he said needed to be done before the snows came. After I had gotten all of the cleaning under control and done all the laundry that was around, I asked if I could go out with him and help him on some of the repairs. He agreed and his smile was...well it was heartwarming. It didn't fit the image I had of him in my mind.
I paid attention and could tell that I was, in fact, helping as opposed to just being in the way. I learned to anticipate what tool he'd need or where to hold the light or whatever. And he clearly appreciated the company. He made me laugh a lot with what I can only describe as dad jokes. Later, when I was alone in my room that would bother me to an absurd degree. Why did I think they were so damn funny, anyway? I couldn't lie to myself. I was enjoying his company. Goddammit.
Looking back this is where things kind of started to go sideways for me. After about a week of working with him outside off and on, I feigned illness to stay behind while he went out. Well, I didn't feign it, I had a cold, but it wasn't that bad. I needed time to do one more pass over the house, solid, careful, and thorough. I wanted an account number, a dirty secret, something I could use against him. I knew that he would be going to town soon and that might be my chance to take advantage of anything I found.
It took me three hours to find it. Since it was a nice house I was looking for safes, hidden spaces behind pictures, and frankly being ridiculous. That's when I realized that dad...I mean James...probably built or renovated at least part of this house himself. He was handy, and I had seen that he was a skilled carpenter first hand. So I started looking for boards that looked firm and fit well but were actually loose. Jackpot.
Upstairs in the back corner of the master bedroom just on the other side of a dresser, I saw it. A floorboard with a tiny bit of extra space and a conveniently placed knothole that could be used to lift it. I did so. There was a thick envelope. By now I knew he would be home soon and I needed to be quick. I took it out and looked at the first few pages. There they were. Account numbers, codes, stock information, even some details that could be used to login to his publisher and reset direct deposits. I snapped pics of all of it and then replaced it. I had only seen about the first ten pages and I wanted to come back later and look again. Now that I knew where it was it would be a lot easier. I wish I'd kept reading it. Or just stolen the whole envelope and read it all that night. But I didn't.