The valet brought his truck around and Forrester drove down the street to Chapman's law office. He greeted the secretary who told him Chapman was waiting.
"Good morning, son," Chapman said.
"Good morning, sir," Forrester said.
"Have you thought any more about your father's estate?" the lawyer said.
Forrester took his seat across the desk from Chapman. "No sir, I have not. And I don't intend to do any thinking on it. As far as I'm concerned, everything to do with my father is finished and I just want it to be gone."
"So you still want all the money to go to charity."
"Yes, sir. Did you find one that would be suitable?"
"I did," Chapman said, taking some papers out of a file. "This charity has been working in the state of Montana for over ten years. It helps women who have suffered from domestic abuse. It gives them and their children a safe place to stay while law enforcement looks into their case. It's very important work. Without it, it would be very difficult for some women to get out of abusive relationships, especially if they had children and had no where to go."
"It sounds like what I asked for," Forrester said.
"Yes, something that would have helped your mother."
"So where do I sign?"
"Well, if you're really certain that you don't want any of this money for yourself."
"I don't want a red cent of it."
"Well then, the document's right here. Have a look over it."
Forrester scanned the document, which was some fifteen pages long. Everything looked to be in order. He picked up a pen and scrawled his name and the date on the line assigned.
"And what about the legal fees and transfer fees?" Chapman said. "If you want, I can take them out of the estate before I transfer the money."
"No," Forrester said. "Don't do that. I'll pay the fees. Have your secretary send a bill to my address in California. The charity could probably use all the money it can get."
Forrester stood. Chapman stood also. They leaned over the table and shook hands.
"I'm sorry this has been such a difficult situation for you," Chapman said.
Forrester nodded. "It's not your fault," he said.
"I shouldn't ask you this, but did you read the letter?"
Forrester reached instinctively into his pocket and felt the crumpled envelope.
"I did not," he said.
Chapman nodded. "I've been thinking about it since I gave it to you. I probably should have just done you a favor and destroyed it, but lawyers are sticklers for keeping their word."
"The good ones are," Forrester said.
Chapman nodded. "Anyway, what I was going to say is that you'd be better off just throwing it in the trash. Your father was a mean man, and he only got worse toward the end of his life."
Forrester nodded. That pretty much decided the issue for him. He'd been half holding on to the hope that the old man had a change of heart on his death bed. He knew it was a long shot. Now he knew it was a pipe dream too.
He left the law office, went back to his truck, and drove to the diner. As he pulled up outside he could already feel his heart quicken with excitement. It was scarcely an hour since he'd seen Elle and he already missed her.
He peered into the diner from where he sat in his truck and could see her inside working. She was serving some guys at the counter. She didn't see him.
Was she pregnant already?
Was she already carrying his child?
He felt his cock throb at the thought. No woman had ever had the effect on him that Elle had.
"Screw it," he said out loud.
If he was truly going to move on from his past, if he had truly overcome the abuse his father had inflicted on him, then what did he have to fear from that letter?
He pulled it out of his pocket and without giving himself the time to change his mind, ripped open the envelope. He held the page in front of him and read it in a single scan.
*
Forrester Snow,
The very sound of your name still makes my stomach turn. You're scum, boy. You're a no good, piece of shit, son of a bitch. You killed your mother, you know.
People say you're not to blame. You didn't know what you were doing. You were just a baby.
I say, all that's fine. You were a baby. You didn't ask to be born. But you still killed her, and for that I'll always hate you. You're no more guiltless than the bullet that strikes its mark. The bullet doesn't know what it's doing, but it kills its target all the same.
That's you, Forrester Snow. You killed your own mother, you killed my wife, and I curse the day you were conceived. If I could go back and not fuck your mother the day I made her pregnant, I'd do it. I'd erase your very existence.
I was never the perfect husband, but I loved that woman more than I could ever love you.
You're worthless to me. You would have been worthless to her too, if she'd survived your birth. No one could love you when you were born. The truth is, I didn't want to raise you. I tried to give you up to the county, I tried to get rid of you, but they wouldn't take you. No one wanted you.
You were truly born alone, Forrester. You were born alone, and mark my words, you will die alone. The words of a dying man must be worth something. The curse of a dying man must be worth something.
So hear this, for this is my curse. No one will ever love you, you little piece of shit. You will destroy anyone you ever try to love. You will find no happiness, and you will give no happiness. If you ever think you've found the girl who's won your heart, you run. You run away from her as far and as fast as you can.
Because if you don't, you'll destroy her, just like you destroyed your own mother.
Curse you.
Abraham Snow.
*
Forrester grimaced. He shook his head. He told himself that the letter meant nothing. He scrunched it up and threw it out the window. He wanted nothing to do with it. Through the tears that were filling his eyes, he looked out the windshield of his truck into the diner. There she was. The woman he loved.
Had something changed?
Had his father's letter poisoned his love?
Forrester didn't know the answer, all he knew was that he couldn't go into the diner right then and there. He was an emotional wreck. He'd make a fool of himself, and he'd upset Elle. There was no reason to upset her. He would go back to his hotel room for a while and compose himself. Then he would come back and have a nice breakfast with the girl he loved.
His father's letter hadn't changed shit. It hadn't poisoned shit. He just needed to get his head around the shock of reading it before he went into the diner to see Elle.
The envelope was still sitting on his lap and he realized there was something else in it. It was small and round. It was a ring. His mother's engagement ring. He'd seen it before. His father had kept it in a box in the basement with his fishing lures. Forrester had found it the time he'd been locked down there with the dogs. The dogs that were supposed to attack him. He'd befriended the dogs, and he'd found the ring. In the moments of darkness and terror down in that basement all those nights, he'd even worn the ring. It had been a perfect fit for his child's hand. He'd worn it and he'd been convinced to this day that it was the one thing that protected him while he was down there. He looked at it now. Why had his father put it in with the letter. To taunt him? To add insult to injury? It was a beautiful ring, a solitary, clear diamond on a band of gold. He put it in his pocket, turned the ignition on his truck, and pulled out of the lot. He headed up the road toward his hotel. At the same time, Elle looked out the window, and saw him driving away.
Chapter 27
Elle
"THAT'S WEIRD," ELLE SAID TO Kelly. "That was Forrester."
"Wasn't he going to come in and see you?"
"I think so," Elle said. "That was the plan. Everything went perfectly last night, and this morning. He was going to come here for breakfast."
"He must have forgotten something," Kelly said. "He'll be right back."
Elle nodded. She felt a moment of fear, although not quite panic, at the sight of Forrester's taillights driving away.
He'll be right back, she told herself.
He'll be right back.
But he didn't come right back. Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. And still, no Forrester. She must have looked out the window a thousand times, hoping to see his truck in the lot.
Where was he?
What had changed?
Everything had been perfect.
He'd said he loved her. He'd promised.
One hour turned into two, and two into three, and still, Forrester never showed.
"Elle, child, you look pale," Grace said when the lunch rush was over.