Chapter 45
I loved you, too, old man.
* * * *
I sat on that porch for the rest of the evening and long into the night. I hadn’t checked my email since taking Ben to the hospital, and I’d turned off my phone. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts and memories of him for a while.
By morning, I was starving. I hadn’t slept, but I wasn’t that tired. I wandered back to Ben’s old room. It still reeked of vomit, so I opened the windows and bagged up the sheets. The mattress was ruined, too. I’d have to get someone to pick it up. I had bittersweet memories of this bed, especially since it still leaned to one side.
Other than cleaning up his room, and the bathroom, I left everything else alone. I wasn’t ready to face packing up his stuff yet. I wanted to keep Ben near just a little bit longer. I walked slowly through the house, running my fingers along the walls, over the picture frames of photos we’d taken over the years at various festivals, town events, and school activities.
The certificates I’d achieved in high school for excellence in one thing or another still hung for all to see. A copy of my high school diploma, associate’s degree and bachelor’s were also on display. Ben had been proud of me and had been there for me every step of the way.
Didn’t mean he was soft, though. He came down hard when I did something wrong or placed myself in danger. He’d drilled into my head a sense of responsibility for others, and myself. “An honest man,” he’d often said, “is a man you can count on. And a man who can own up to his mistakes and make amends is someone I’d call a friend.”
The memories in the house pursued me as I looked at everything through the eyes of loss and reflection. He’d been a cantankerous soul, but no one could deny that Benjamin Arnold Cotter had been a great man, worth his weight in gold.
I miss you, Ben.
I walked back to the kitchen. The sink had a bowl of oatmeal in it, days old. A spoon was stuck in the middle, like glue. I threw it all out. I made myself some scrambled eggs and bacon, the only things that weren’t spoiled in the refrigerator. I’d go shopping in town later on.
I turned my phone back on after eating, but left the computer off. I had one text and a few voice mails. Most were from reporters who wanted to know something about the Englemann case. I deleted those. I listened to the one from Hal.
“Hey, man. I wanted to give you an update,” he said. “There’s been a lot of finger-pointing between Carl, Remmy, and Griffin. Bottom line, Carl masterminded the whole thing, and Remmy and Griffin were accessories. Tyler did the dirty work, but he got a reduced sentence for his cooperation with the case. Carl will get five years, Remmy and Griffin, three apiece. Tyler, eighteen months. I know I was pissed at you for how you went about this, but you got the job done, and I appreciate it. Oh, and heads up. You may get calls from reporters. Sorry about that. Thanks for the scotch. Don’t be a stranger.” That was the end of the message.
I checked my text. Also from Hal. It’s all over the news. Another reason for me to stay up here for a while. I had a cleaning service stop in every week at the condo, so that was okay. Any utility or mortgage payments were automatically deducted from my account.
When I felt I could stomach it, I turned on the flat screen TV I’d bought for the old man and turned to the news. Hal was right. It was still a hot topic. Pictures of everyone, including Tyler were flashed briefly on the screen. Oh baby. What a mess.My name was mentioned briefly as the insurance investigator who’d been involved with the case, and during an interview, Hal Tremone gave what details he could about the whole thing.
I was so happy I wasn’t in Atlanta right then. Thankfully, no one had pursued me too much to get more information. Leeches, all of them.What more could they want, anyway? I went outside and stood on the porch, watching the sun make its slow way across the horizon. It was over. Everything was done, case closed. So, what do I do with my life now?
* * * *
It took me a year to figure things out. After three months in the mountains, at the beginning of fall, I sent an email to my superiors with my resignation letter attached. I made a brief trip into town, put my condo up for sale and took care of all the necessities of moving my life up north
I offered my services on a consultant basis for Englemann from time to time. I had no need to work, after all, not with my inheritance. Instead, I focused on getting the land ready for growing again. It had been years since I’d tilled fields and done the hard labor of farm life, but it felt good.