I turned away and looked at Daniel’s headstone. I felt foolish, ashamed, and still angry all at once.
“You should’ve told me,” I said under my breath.
“I tried yesterday,” Adam said. “But you wouldn’t let me finish.”
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know if any of this is true,” I said after a moment. “I’m sorry, I can’t handle any of this. I need to go,” I said finally.
And for the second time, I ran away from dealing with Adam.
I felt foolish.
When I got into my car, I knew I couldn’t go home. I needed to see Mr. Collins, Daniel’s lawyer.
If anyone had answers, it would be him.
***
On the drive to the lawyer’s office, a memory surfaced.
It was about eight months before Daniel died. We were washing dishes together when he asked, almost casually, “How would you feel about taking guardianship of a child someday?”
I had laughed. “Out of nowhere? Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a small smile. “We never had kids. Maybe we could help someone.”
A memory surfaced.
“I’d like that,” I had answered. “If we ever did it, I’d want to give a kid stability. Not just charity.”
He’d looked at me in a way I didn’t understand at the time: proud, relieved. Then he changed the subject.
***
At Mr. Collins’s office, my hands were steadier than I expected.
He greeted me with sympathy. “Margaret, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I need the truth. About Adam.”
“I’d like that.”
His expression shifted, not surprised but measured.
“I assume he spoke to you.”
“He did,” I said. “But I need confirmation.”
Mr. Collins opened a file drawer and pulled out a thick folder. “Daniel was appointed Adam’s legal guardian five years ago. Here are the court documents.”
There was Daniel’s signature. The judge’s seal. Adam’s name.
“But I need confirmation.”
“He established an education trust at that time,” Mr. Collins continued. “You are listed as successor trustee. In the event of Daniel’s death, you have full discretion to continue funding Adam’s schooling until he turns 21.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
continue to the next page.”
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