* * *
She was happy. Or at least content. She, Theron, George and Alice were settled into their new home, and she barely missed the bustle of the store. She was entranced with the house and her plans to fully decorate it.
February was well upon them. When it snowed in the mountains of Oregon and Washington, it rained a cold rain in the valley. On one such day, Kathleen was sitting alone in the homey living room. A bright fire crackled in the hearth. Theron was upstairs asleep. He had had a cold for the last few days and was now, under medication from the pediatrician, sleeping it away. The Martins had gone into San Francisco for the day to do some extensive shopping for the country kitchen.
When Kathleen heard the car motor, she didn’t think they could already be back, so she got up to look out the window.
Her heart danced and then jumped to her throat as she saw the battered blue Dodge van chugging up the pothole-riddled driveway. She mouthed his name, but no sound came out. Instinctively, she clutched her chest in an effort to still the pounding of her heart.
By now, he was on the porch and pulling the old-fashioned bell. Kathleen went to the door and opened it without he
sitation.
For a small eternity, they stared at each other, hungry eyes combating to gain the most ground. Without speaking, he walked in. He shook off his rain-dampened coat and hung it on the hall tree beside the door. With his back to her, he surveyed the room. His head nodded in silent approval.
“Hello, Kathleen.” He turned around to face her.
“Hello, Erik,” she grated hoarsely. Why couldn’t she speak? She was a bundle of nerves. Was he here to make some threat about Theron? Would he overpower her and take him by force?
“Where’s Theron?” he asked, as if reading her mind.
“Upstairs asleep,” she said guardedly.
Erik only nodded absently. “The house is nice, very nice. Do you like it?”
Was it her imagination, or was he as nervous as she? “Yes, I love it. It’s quiet here.”
Without invitation, he sat on the sofa in front of the fire and stared into it for a moment. Then he looked up as though surprised to find her still standing. “Sit down.”
She didn’t move. “What are you doing here, Erik?”
He continued to look up at her as he withdrew an envelope from the breast pocket of his shirt. Handing it to her, he said, “I received that in the mail three days ago. It’s from Seth’s attorney. He was instructed to mail it to me on a specified day. Dr. Alexander had gotten it from Seth the night he died.”
Kathleen wanted to ask him what all of that meant, but he was staring moodily into the fire again. She looked down at the envelope. It was innocuous enough, having as its letter-head the name and address of the law firm. She opened it and pulled out two sheets of paper. One was a contract for the loan Seth had made to Erik’s new company. It had been rubber-stamped “Paid in Full” in red ink.
The other sheet of paper was filled with Seth’s handwriting, not as legible or firm as it usually was, but identifiable just the same. It was dated the night before he had died.
Dear Erik,
My attorney will confirm that there is a secret trust fund in the Bank of America for Theron. You will find that it is a sizable amount and, hopefully, will grow even greater with accrued interest, so that by the time he’s ready to enter whatever field he chooses, he will be well equipped financially. The contingency of his receiving said funds on his twentyfifth birthday are somewhat odd. It is my last wish that you will see they are met.
By his second birthday, April fifteenth of this year, I ask that his name be legally changed to Gudjonsen. It is my belief that a son should bear his father’s name. Thank you for loaning him to me for a short while. My gratitude is exceeded only by the love I have for him and his mother. I would also hope that she be included in that name change. It should have been hers long ago.
I considered you a friend in life. So do I still.
Seth
Kathleen lowered the paper before her tears could blur the ink. “He knew.”
Erik stirred, though he didn’t look at her. “It would seem so.”
She dropped down onto the couch beside him. “I should have known that he would. Seth was so perceptive, so attuned to emotions. He would have seen, would have guessed.” They were silent again. She looked up at Erik timidly. “What are you going to do?”
He raked a hand through his hair and stood up, crossing to the fireplace. His booted toe moved a log closer to the flames, and sparks shot up the chimney. “Hell, I don’t know,” he said on a deep sigh. “I’ve spent these past two days deliberating what to do. I started to ignore it, but the attorney called to verify that I had received the letter and to inform me that he had a copy of it.” He braced his arms wide on the mantel and hung his head between them in an attitude of abject despair. “We could contest the will, but…” He spoke without conviction. He wanted that hassle no more than she did. “How can I deny my son that kind of opportunity, Kathleen?”
“I don’t suppose you can,” she answered quietly, not wanting any part of the decision only he could make.
“Of course,” he reasoned aloud, “his receiving the money is contingent only on his name being changed, not yours.”