“Developers are asking about this land.”
There it was.
The real reason.
“You want me to sell.”
“It would be sensible.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
I laughed.
My mother hated that.
She stepped closer.
“Your brothers have families.”
“So?”
“You could divide the proceeds.”
“Why?”
“Because this came from your grandfather.”
“To me.”
“He would not want one person keeping everything.”
“The letter says otherwise.”
She became pale.
“What exactly did he write?”
I smiled.
“You should have waited for me to come home.”
Then I walked away.
She left angry.
But I was shaking afterward.
Patch pressed against my leg.
I sat on a rock.
I wanted my mother to love me.
Even after everything.
That was the humiliating truth.
I wanted her to turn around.
Come back.
Say she was sorry.
She did not.
Two days later, my older brother Samuel came.
He drove a black pickup.
He looked older than I remembered.
