42. Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Rowan sits against a tree on the far side of the cemetery.
“I’ll go get him,” Dad says and I grab his arm. “Leave him. Let him say goodbye, however he wants to.”
Dad grumbles and said we’d better be at the house when the reception arrives. I just nod and look back at Rowan. He’s barely recognizable as the boy I have always considered a full sibling. He’s a man now. Will be officially in one more week.
I haven’t seen the tears fall yet, but I’m guessing he shed those long ago. Possibly at night, when nobody else could see. He may shed them now. He stood tall next to me when they lowered her casket into the ground. I was the one with a tremble in my fingertips. I feel responsibility for him now.
One more week.
I watch as all the cars wind their way along the road and finally out of sight. Rowan is watching too and when the last car disappears over the tiny ridge, he stands and comes my way.
“We can stay as long as you need. I can go—”
“No, I just can’t deal with all the people. People who never really knew her. People Dad is all of sudden letting into her life. He never let her friends come around when she was still healthy, but now that she’s in the ground.” He shuts his eyes tight. My heart shreds again.
“At least she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore.”
He looks my way. All I can do is nod. Fuck. I should have been here more.
“I’m sorry, Ro.”
“I’m not,” he snaps. “She’s safe now and no longer in pain.”
I nod. “I mean, I’m sorry I wasn’t here more.”
“Me too.”
I face him and look into his eyes. His green eyes. I smile a bit.
“What?”
“Nothing. You look more like her today than I think I’ve ever noticed before.”
She was beautiful. Too beautiful for my dad, that’s for sure. But he can be a charming son of a bitch when he needs to be. Rowan has her fair barely golden skin, lightly dusted with freckles across his nose and shoulders. The full lips and green eyes are hers too. The height, not quite 6-4, came from dad. The long legs are his too.
His wavy dirty blond hair has gotten long, and it strikes me he looks more like Davey’s brother than mine.
“Don’t leave me alone in that house.”
I nod. “Never again.”
He swallows and falls into me. I hold tight. “Never again,” I say into the top of his head.
“She wanted me to give this to you.”
Rowan pulls an envelope from under his mattress. It’s been folded width wise in thirds. I furrow my brow at him. I pull a key out of the envelope.
“It’s a safe deposit box.”
“What’s in it?”
He shakes his head. “No idea. She gave it to me a few weeks ago. Told me to give it to you when she dies, and to not tell dad about it.”
The bank manager looks at me star struck when he escorts Rowan and me into the safe with the walls of boxes. He pulls one out and sets it on the table in the center of the room.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He glances at me one more time before ducking his head and leaving us.
Rowan chuckles. “Does that get old?”
I laugh. “I rarely notice anymore.”
“Okay,” we both exhale and I turn the box and put the key in.
Another envelope addressed to Rowan. A pair of jewelry boxes. One with a beautiful long strand of pearls, another with a very simple diamond ring. A round solitaire. Both belonged to her mother. Another key. To what? Then I see a white index card. There are six numbers on it—account numbers and passcodes. There are also bank names next to each set of numbers. One is the bank we are standing in. The other is a bank in Denver. The third is Chicago. On the back is her social security number and birthdate. No national chains. All three small local banks.
We look at each other.
“I have no idea,” Rowan answers my unasked question.
We gather the jewelry and Rowan folds the other envelope in half and stuffs it into his pocket. I’m sure it’s a letter, a farewell, something he may not be able to stomach reading for a while.
The manager puts in the account number for us, scrolls through some info, and then looks at us.
“The balance is $536,027 and some change.”
We both lean our heads closer to him. “What?”
He nods. “Yes, $536,027 and Rowan Marshall. He tips his head to Rowan. You are indeed the beneficiary.”
“Cash?” Rowan asks.
“Yes, it is a standard high yield savings account.”
“When was this opened?”
“Uh…. hmm…looks like around eight years ago…ah yes, June 3.”
I look at Rowan. That would be the day after his 10th birthday. “Did something happen on your 10th birthday?”
“No, I can’t…” He pulls the envelope from his pocket, but shoves it back in.
“She made regular deposits, almost weekly, it looks like.” The manager continues. “I’m happy to print out statements if you like?”
I shake my head. “I think we’re good for now.” I can see Rowan’s hand gripping the envelope in his pocket. Like it must hold the answer somehow.
“She never told you this?” I ask.
“No, of course not.” He looks at me. His face still wearing the stupefied look we both got when we heard the balance in the account.
She knew I was always sending money to dad. Maybe she was afraid he would end up with all of it…she knew enough to stash money away for her son. I turn back to the manager. “What address did she use?”
The manager looks at the screen again. “A PO box.”
I pull the key out of my pocket. That explains this.
“I wonder where she got the money to even do this without him knowing.” Rowan says.
“Maybe she explains in the letter?”
He swallows and pulls the now crumpled envelope out of his pocket.
“Rowan, you don’t have to read it now. Take your time. There is no rush.”
We walk out of the bank into the bright sun.
“There are two more accounts. Do you think they have the same amount?” Rowan asks.
I shake my head. “No idea. We’ll figure it out, though.” Chicago. We’re going to have to go to Chicago, dammit.
“I can you pay back now.”
“What? Hell no, you are never paying me back. The money for you…that money was never a loan. And the college fund is still yours.”
I step around to get into the car when I see him staring wide-eyed down the street. I follow his eyes to the ice cream shop on the corner.
“Every week,” he looks at the ice cream shop and then at the bank. “We got ice cream there every week. As a kid, I was all in for the ice cream. As I got holder and she got sick…it was our time together. Dad only came one time. I remember that one. She was uncomfortable. She didn’t order the same ice cream as she usually did. I was too young to really tune in, but I could tell something was off that night. They fought when we got home that night. I was pissed at him…that’s when I really started to pay attention. He never came with us again.”
We get in the car and Rowan pulls the envelope out again.
“Did you guys ever go to Chicago?”
He smiles and nods, the pieces of the puzzle falling together. “Yep, she went to see a doctor there when she got her first diagnosis. And Denver, well, we visited you a few times.”
“Still doesn’t explain where the money came from.”
“Does it matter?” He says.
“No, I guess not.” I say. It really doesn’t.
“The letter probably answers some of it, but again, it probably doesn’t matter. You’re safe. She’s safe. You turn 18 next week and you’re coming home to Denver.”
He hands me the envelope. “You read it.”
“Rowan, I can’t do that.”