The Reading of the Will
The Other Wife

The Letter

"I was protecting you," Garrett said, and for the first time his voice cracked. "Both of you. You think I liked carrying this? I threw up in the parking lot the first time he told me. I've had two years of Sunday dinners knowing, sitting across from you at Thanksgiving, watching you toast to thirty-six years of marriage, and I couldn't say a word."

"You could have," Whitney said. "You chose not to."

"What was I supposed to choose? Tell Mom her marriage was already over while Dad was dying of the same disease that killed Grandpa? Watch her lose both at once?"

"That wasn't your decision to make for her."

"It wasn't yours either," Garrett shot back, "and you've been making decisions for this family since you were twelve, so don't stand there like you're better than me."

Juniper, who had been silent through most of it, finally spoke, quietly. "For what it's worth — I asked him to tell you. Every year. I told him it wasn't fair to Asa, growing up half-hidden, waiting for a man who could only show up in patches." She glanced at her son, and something raw crossed her face. "I don't need you to forgive me. I'd just like you to know I fought for the truth longer than he did."

Asa hadn't spoken in twenty minutes. When he did, his voice was rough. "I used to think it was my fault. That if I was better, quieter, he wouldn't have to keep splitting himself in half."

The room went silent in a different way than before — not shocked, just tired, everyone's anger finally running out of road at the same time.

It was Lane who broke it, clearing his throat from the doorway, a folder in his hands Whitney hadn't seen before.

"There's one more thing," he said. "Holt gave this to me the day he signed the new will. He told me not to open it unless all five of you were in a room together, and things had already gone badly." He set it on the table like it might still detonate. "I was hoping I'd never have to hand this over."

Continue the story Part 10: What He Left Instead →