Sunday, December 5, 2010

The Request: Part two

  Bonnie stood in her kitchen reading the letter from her father’s attorney. She wasn’t sure why it had drafted from an attorney.  After all her father was a bum in the truest sense of the word.
  He had left their mom when she was 8 years old disappearing into the streets of America.  He hated him for what he had done to the family. She folded the note and placed it back into its envelope. She then turned to the phone mounded on the wall and rang her brother’s number.
  “Hello,” answered Nathan.
  “Did you get a letter this morning?” she asked.
  “Yeah, I know he’s gone; it didn’t say what he did of? Do you know?” he asked.
  “Don’t care, you going to the funeral?” he asked.
  “Yeah, I was going to ask, Nicki about that,” he answered, he was like that. He never did anything without asking the misses.
  “I am not sure, if I want to go and what is this about a private meeting after the grave side service, something about a legacy,” she stated, looking at the envelope again.
 “What is going to give us his pan handler’s bucket,” he laughed
 “Maybe he won the lotto,” she answered, opening the letter one more time.
  “That would have been nice,”
  “Okay find out if you are going and I will if you will,” she answered, reading the attorney name and number.
  She hung the phone up and walked out into the living room and turned the TV off.  She lived a lone so there was no one to blame for the waste of electricity.  Sitting in her lounge chair she listened to the grandfather clock that ticked away. Oh, how she had missed her father those first three years. She remembered him as tall and always had a smile that got broader when ever she came into the room.  He had got into some trouble at the bank that him and her mother worked at and choose to run. Like a coward one Christmas eve.
  She could remember hiding in the snow fort that Nathan and his friends had built.  She waited there on the next Christmas for her father to come home.  She caught cold and had to see the doctor the next day.  Christmas was always a bad time of year.
  “Why should this year be any different?” she question the silence.
  She had lost her faith in people long ago.
  Lifting the receiver of the phone next to the chair she dialed the attorney.
   “Good afternoon, Mr. Stevens’ office,” answered a cheerful assistant.
   “Can I please speak with someone about a letter that I received from Mr. Stevens about my fathers passing?”
  “One moment, I’m sorry; he is in court today and will be unavailable until the morning. Can get your name and number?”
  Bonnie gave the cheerful woman her number and hung up the phone.
  “Well, I am not sure what I was expecting after the man is a lawyer. Why would he come to the phone unless there is money involved?
  Just then the phone rang breaking the silence of the room.
  “Hello,” she answered.
  “This is Robert Stevens; I am returning your call, just a second.”
  She could hear him muffling the phone.
  He was talking to someone else, he said, “Of course I have the up most respect for your court, Judge Coffer, Just need a moment to confer with a client.  Let’s, say we continue after lunch. No, Judge Coffer I am not trying to get out of anything.  I just really need a moment.  This is very important I assure you.”
  Bonnie pushed the phone closer and was surprise when Mr. Stevens came started to talk to her again.
  “Sorry,” he said, make Bonnie jump nearly to her feet.
  “That is okay,” she answered, getting a hold of her nerves once again.
  “I only have a few minutes, this is about your father’s request I take it.”
  “Yes, can you tell me more about what why we are need after the service?”
  “No, I can’t, I assure you it will all be explained there after the service. I will be there along with my wife and children. Now, must go before I get disbarred,” he answered, just before the line went dead.
  “He’s bringing his family to a funeral on Christmas Day. Maybe dad did win the Lotto,” she whispered, as if someone was listening at the door.

  To be continued next week. Please comment.

  The above short story is to be considered copyrighted. I am the author and kept all rights to the above story. Unlike most of the material on my blog it a fabrication of Fiction. I wasn’t told the story. It is not meant to be about anyone in particular and should be considered a product of my imagination. So if you like fiction and want to read more of my works of fiction you can go to read the posts from the beginning and you should be able to figure out the storyline.  You can also catch me on Facebook, under the name, Letters from the Verse.
  Thank you,
  James Farnworth.

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