Chapter 18 - Sarah’s Apple Pie
Sarah baked the apple pie at sixty-six dinner.
Terrible crust.
“Don’t tell me that.”
“You’re a nurse, not baker.”
She rolled eyes.
Then after everyone left, she stayed.
“Mom, I need tell something.”
Here we go.
“When Dad first contacted, I sent him money.”
I stared.
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“For?”
“He said medical bills.”
“Did he have?”
“Maybe some.”
Then:
“Later ten thousand for lawyer investigating trust.”
My stomach tightened.
“Total?”
“Fifteen.”
“Did he repay?”
“No.”
“Did police know?”
“Yes. I told.”
The transfers became evidence of his manipulation but not theft if he requested under false pretenses? The lawyer reason was false. Could be part fraud losses.
“Why didn't tell me?”
“Embarrassed.”
Family disease.
Then:
“Do you need money?”
“No. I have trust distribution now.”
“Sarah.”
“I’m okay.”
Then:
“I wanted him to need me.”
There.
Children with absent parents sometimes buy closeness.
She had.
I did not scold.
Then Michael admitted he gave Tomas $8,000 too.
Claire $2,000.
Ethan nothing.
Grace nothing.
Noah $500 for supposed phone? He paid hotel once. Fine.
Total about $25,500.
Tomas’s fraud case included some false legal claims.
Restitution ordered for documented amounts acquired by fraud.
Not every gift reclaimable because some were clearly gifts.
Court determined $18,000 tied to materially false representations and ordered restitution.
Payments from prison slow.
Children did not wait.
Then Sarah:
“I feel stupid.”
“No.”
“You keep saying no.”
“Fine. You made a bad decision.”
She laughed.
“Better.”
Then:
“Would you have given him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I knew him longer.”
Experience, not superiority.
Then she asked:
“Did Uncle Robert know him better than you?”
Maybe.
But Robert saw finances from outside.
I was inside marriage.
Different.
Then:
“Why did Dad hate him?”
“Because Robert told him no.”
Simple.
Then Sarah asked:
“Why did you keep Parker name after divorce?”
Six kids.
Professional records.
Habit.
It had become mine.
Not Tomas’s exclusive.
Then:
“Would you change now?”
“No.”
No need.
Then she said:
“Sometimes I want Hayes.”
“As surname?”
“No. Like Uncle Robert’s.”
Identity hunger.
“Your name can be what you choose.”
She kept Parker.
Fine.
Then grandchildren began learning basic family history.
Not murder details young.
Tomas = grandfather in prison for serious crime.
Uncle Robert = Helen’s brother.
Trust = inheritance, not family worth.
No secrecy.
Then Michael’s son asked:
“Did Grandpa steal money?”
“Yes, attempted and some fraud.”
“Did he kill someone?”
At twelve, Michael answered truth.
“Your great-uncle Robert.”
The child cried.
Then:
“Are we bad family?”
“No.”
No one is hereditary criminal.
Then Tomas’s appeal finally exhausted.
No more.
Prison years.
He became older.
Medical.
No parole? 32-year determinate could release around 90+ with credits. Likely dies before.
Then he sent me birthday card at sixty seven.
I allowed.
Happy birthday, Helen. I am sorry sixty was mine.
I stared.
Then wrote:
It wasn't yours. You damaged it.
Important.
He did not own memory.
He replied months later:
Fair.
That was first actual exchange.
Not reconciliation.
Then sixty-eight birthday.
No card.
Good.
Then one morning Officer Reed stopped by? He had been local officer, not ongoing. He sent retirement note maybe. We can have Helen see him at grocery store.
“You were officer at my birthday.”
He smiled.
“I remember.”
“Worst party guest.”
He laughed.
Then:
“How are kids?”
“Loud.”
“Good.”
He left.
No heroic bond.
He had delivered note.
Did job.
That was enough.
Then I realized the folded note still lived in desk.
Sarah's handwriting.
I had kept.
Should I?
Not yet.
It represented worst birthday and first truth.
Maybe later.
Then Sarah’s pie.
May you like
I ate second slice.
Still bad.
