A Montgomery Family Thanksgiving

Chapter 1

Jeremiah

“Do you need help with anything other than renewing your box rental, Mr. Montgomery?”

Jeremiah smiled at the woman behind the counter at the post office.

He had known her since the day she was born.

In fact, his oldest son, Logan, had been born the same year.

That made her forty. Not only had her parents been neighbors of his for years, but they had also attended the same church, and their kids had gone to the same schools.

“No, Winona, that will be all,” he said, handing his charge card to her.

“You know, you could have rented a box at the post office closer to your new home, instead of having one here. It might save you time and gas. I can’t believe how much gas costs now,” she said.

He couldn’t believe it either, but that was how inflation worked. He could recall a time when gas was less than forty cents a gallon, and you didn’t have to pump it yourself. A service station attendant did it for you and made sure you also had a clean windshield before leaving.

“I’m retired, so I have a lot of time on my hands. And I don’t do as much driving as I used to. A fill-up usually lasts me almost two weeks.”

One of the reasons he enjoyed coming to this post office was that it gave him a chance to visit the neighborhood where he had lived for more than forty years. His regular barber was still in the area, as well as the homeless center where he often volunteered his time in the soup kitchen.

Still, he didn’t regret the decision he’d made with Thea that once they married, they would rent out their individual homes and purchase one together in a senior community that catered to the over-sixty crowd.

The one Thea had found for them, Cypress Harbor Pines, was perfect.

Their new home was a single-story house, nestled among pine trees and backed up to a lake.

It was just the right size for the two of them and included a basement with four additional guest rooms and two bathrooms for company.

He had three married sons and a daughter, and Thea had three daughters.

That was why they’d purchased a home that could accommodate everyone during the holidays, as well as any drop-in visits.

All the homes in their community had golf carts.

The electric motorized carts came in handy when a quick trip to the nearby grocery or convenience stores was necessary.

He especially liked that the houses were spaced well apart, allowing for breathing space from his neighbors.

They had a nice backyard and figured that at some point, they might even install a pool for their grandkids.

But for the next little while, he and his wife were hoping to spend a significant amount of their time traveling.

His wife.

Jeremiah couldn’t help but smile whenever he thought of the former Thea Manchester, the woman he had married after being divorced for over twenty years.

Now he considered his present marital status a blessing.

He had been separated from his ex-wife, Edwina, for almost five years before filing for a divorce.

Although she had run off with another man, taking their newborn baby girl, Carrie, with her, he had refused to believe the baby wasn’t his and had loved Edwina enough to forgive her and try to save their marriage if she returned.

She never did.

When he discovered his ex-wife had turned to a life of crime, his main concern had been his daughter.

He and his sons had hired a private investigator to find her.

By the time they did, Carrie was sixteen and living on the streets of LA as a runaway.

It was later confirmed that Carrie was indeed his child.

“You got big plans for Thanksgiving, Mr. Montgomery?”

He gave Winona another smile. In a way, he was glad she had intruded into his thoughts. “I do. My entire family will be here.”

Since he and Thea had tied the knot Christmas Day, this would be his first Thanksgiving as a newly married man.

All their kids--and he considered their blended families ‘theirs’--would be coming to Gary, Indiana, to celebrate.

He and his wife were excited about it—in fact, they’d already started planning the menu, even though Thanksgiving was still more than a month away.

They’d also be joined by his cousin Dora’s granddaughter, Haven.

Sadly, they lost Dora to cancer earlier this year.

A few months ago, Haven, who’d graduated from Yale with a Master’s degree in Biostatistics, had taken a job as a medical researcher with a well-known pharmaceutical company in Chicago. Now that she’d moved into the area, they saw her often, and he knew Dora would not have wanted it any other way.

“The folks said you went to Germany for your honeymoon,” Winona said.

He nodded. “It’s just one of the many places on our bucket list. We’re planning a trip to South Africa in the spring.”

“I can’t wait to retire so I can travel. I’m so happy for you. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you,” she said, handing his charge card back to him.

“Thanks, Winona.” He glanced behind him. “I’d better get going. It looks like a lot of people are waiting to talk to you.”

She smiled. “See you the next time, Mr. Montgomery.”

As he left the post office, Jeremiah waved to several people he knew, then stopped and chatted with a few others.

Many congratulated him on his marriage, telling him they’d met Thea at church, or elsewhere, and wanted him to know how much they liked her.

They’d said she was a classy, educated woman who was outgoing, caring, and friendly.

What they were too kind to say was that Thea was the complete opposite of his former wife, Edwina.

Jeremiah had met Edwina when he’d been in the military, stationed at Ft.

Benning. After a short courtship, they had married and he’d brought her home to Gary, where he’d been born and raised.

He had no idea what happened, but over time, his wife slowly became a very different woman.

In fact, he’d even suspected she’d been having an affair; but he couldn’t bring himself to find out.

He’d refused to believe Edwina could do such a thing to him. But she had.

The weather was turning chilly, which was not unusual for October in Indiana.

This weekend, he and Thea would get a head start on their Thanksgiving plans.

Although they had invited everyone to their home, their kids had decided to stay at nearby hotels.

Their family had reminded them that they were still newlyweds.

Once he got to his truck, he sat inside for a few minutes, thumbing through the envelopes that had been in his post office box.

As usual, most of it was junk mail. But he couldn’t help the sharp breath that escaped him when he came to the very last one.

It was a large envelope…addressed from a federal prison in Oklahoma.

Jeremiah had heard that his ex-wife had been arrested last year by the FBI.

She’d been caught smuggling stolen goods across state lines.

Neither he nor his sons had followed her trial, but he’d heard she received a twenty-year sentence.

It was about time her sins caught up to her.

Even their sons─Lance, Lyle, and Logan─believed she got what she deserved, after the hell Edwina had put Carrie through.

It had taken years of prayer, of listening to sermons on redemption, and counseling with his minister, for him to move on, so that he no longer resented Edwina for the things she’d done, to him and his children.

Unfortunately, his four kids hadn’t joined him on the forgiveness bandwagon, and he doubted they ever would.

Could this packet be from Edwina? He knew of no other soul in prison. And if it was from her, why would she contact him? The last stunt she’d pulled—blackmailing Carrie a few years ago--had been the last straw.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the packet to find six envelopes inside. They were individually addressed--one to each of his three sons and his daughter. Another was addressed to him, and the sixth letter was addressed to a stranger.

Jeremiah opened the envelope addressed to him.

Jeremiah,

I guess you thought you would never hear from me again. Please believe me when I say that I thought that, too. However, being locked up has a way of forcing you to face your regrets. And please believe me when I say I have plenty. No joke and no lie.

I am dying, Jeremiah. The doctor told me last week that I am terminally ill with pancreatic cancer.

I have less than eight months to live. So, I decided that I could either spend the time I have left wallowing in self-pity, or I could do something right for a change.

I’ve addressed each one of my kids’ letters.

I hope they read them and accept my apology for the hurt and pain I caused them. For failing them as a mother.

More than anything, I would like to apologize to them personally.

If they don’t want to come and see me, I’ll understand.

I want to extend this to you as well, Jeremiah.

You are a good man, and I will always regret what I put you through.

It may be too late to ask your forgiveness, but I will do so anyway.

You’ll notice that one of the letters is addressed to a man named Silas Kingston.

I know you don’t know him, but I was hoping you could find him.

When Carrie was one, I met Silas at a soup kitchen where we would often go for food.

Silas was a kindhearted businessman whose corporation covered the costs of the place.

I played on his kindness. I intentionally got pregnant and then offered the baby to him for a price when it was born.

He paid what I asked and then sent his henchman to see me.

The man told me that if I ever showed up in Silas’s or his son’s life again, I would live to regret it.

I took the man at his word since several people had warned me that Silas’ family had ties to organized crime.

I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I wasn’t going to take my chances and find out.

Silas came to the hospital and got the baby right after delivery. I was told I had a boy. I never got the chance to see him. Honestly, at the time, I didn’t care. Now, as I lie here, knowing my days are numbered, I do care because I owe Silas and my son an apology as well.

Because I don’t know my son’s name, I addressed the letter to Silas.

I had tried sending a letter to the address I remembered for him, but it was returned.

I know of no other way to reach him, and hope you will somehow find a way to get the letter to him.

Silas did the right thing by taking our son away from me.

I will understand if you trash this entire package of letters, but in my heart, I know you won’t. You are a good man, Jeremiah. Thank you for passing these letters along to the kids. I know you’ll leave it up to them to decide if they want to come see me or not.

Just for the record, everything I’m telling you is the truth.

You can have your minister call the prison’s chaplain to verify, or you can contact the physician here.

I’ve given them both permission to tell you, your minister, or anyone else who calls inquiring about my medical condition, anything they want to know.

At this point in my life, I have no reason to lie.

I am so very sorry,

Edwina

Jeremiah refolded his letter and put it back in the envelope.

Then he sat there for a few moments and looked up at the sky.

It was a pretty blue. Too beautiful for him to be considering dealing with anything involving Edwina.

But then, how could he not? She was his children’s mother.

And she’d had another child less than two years after Carrie?

That had been one well-kept secret. Silas Kingston’s representative must have put the fear of God in Edwina if she hadn’t tried to shake him down later for more money.

Whatever fear tactic the man had used, Jeremiah was grateful it had worked.

His thoughts shifted back to his children--Logan, the plastic surgeon, Lyle, the heart specialist, Lance, the relationship guru and bestselling author, and Carrie, a social worker.

He was proud of his kids. And Edwina was their mother, whether they wanted to claim her or not.

Still, they should have the option of deciding what they were going to do, and he would respect whatever decision they made.

For Edwina, the timing of these letters couldn’t be better.

His boys and their families would be arriving this weekend for Carrie’s twins’ christening on Sunday.

Carrie and Connor had named their sons Jeremiah and Jeremy, after him and the beloved older brother that Jeremiah had lost years ago.

His brother had been the first to join the military, and as usual, Jeremiah had followed in his older brother’s footsteps.

Jeremiah had returned from Vietnam. Jeremy had not.

After dinner on Sunday, he would request a meeting with his kids. But still, he felt he should give his oldest son a head’s-up. Logan lived in Tampa, Florida, and had only been married for five months.

Pulling his cell phone out of his jacket, he placed a call.

Logan had been the one who had taken care of the house and his two younger brothers while Jeremiah worked to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs after Edwina ran off.

He’d been the one who’d earned his younger brothers’ and his baby sister’s respect.

The one who’d had to become a man before his time.

Logan answered on the first ring. “Hey, Pop, what’s up?”