I picked up my tea cup and took a drink. “Oh, you mean contesting the trust based on the fact that you think your father was murdered?”
His smirk faded into anger. “I already know you murdered him.”
“Why, whatever are you talking about? I find it laughable that you think little ‘ol me could kill a man as big as your father.”
“He supposedly died of a heart attack. I wouldn’t put it past you to poison him.”
“Me?” My face dripped shock as I pressed my hand against my chest. “I’m heartbroken you think I would do something like that. Why, I loved your father.”
“You hated him, and we all knew it.”
“I’d like to see you prove it.”
He knew he couldn’t. When I was around anyone, I was always the epitome of the loving wife. Nobody would have suspected that our marriage wasn’t real, well, except for his children. They already knew what a heartless bastard Arlen was. There wasn’t a person on this earth that would love him if they really knew him.
“This isn’t over,” he said angrily as he stormed out of the room. I leaned back in my chair and sipped my tea as I stared out the window as the last of the leaves fell from the trees. Winter was quickly approaching and the gloomy weather settled in. Despite all that, it was beautiful out here. That was the only thing I would miss about this place. I found solace on the grounds of the estate over the past year, and leaving that behind would be difficult. But I would just have to find peace somewhere else. Staying here just wasn’t an option.
As I packed up the last of my stuff, I took a few moments to look at some of the more important things I still had from my childhood. My mother’s favorite shawl. She wore it everywhere she went. She was a crafter and made almost everything by hand. Of course, we were poor, so if she could get scraps of fabric or leftover yarn, she snatched it up. I lifted the shawl to my nose and remembered the last time she wore it.
My mother’s feeble frame carried the tray of food into the living room where my father sat. He was grumpier these days, always snapping at her for something. She wasn’t strong enough to deal with his anger. We all understood it. The whole town was suffering, and he had no control over anything. We could barely afford the mortgage on our house, and the only reason I knew that was because he snapped at my mom about it all the time.
I knew they were both worried. The jobs had dried up and there was literally nothing holding the people in this town together. We were all suffering. Some traveled to other cities to find employment, but they didn’t come home often. The trips were too expensive. Instead, they sent money home to take care of their families. But dad was a proud man in a weird way. He felt that leaving his family was like giving up. So, he stayed here, waiting for work to come to him. It never would and we all knew it.
My mom sat down heavily in her chair, barely able to make it any longer from the kitchen to the living room. I helped out as much as I could, but she insisted that I should be doing my schoolwork instead of helping her out. She had big dreams for me to escape this place and make something of myself. I just didn’t see that happening. Sure, I had dreams for myself. I wanted so much out of life, but as I stood in the doorway watching my mother struggle just to do the smallest things, there was only one thing I wanted.
I went to the kitchen and made her tea, slipping the pills out of my pocket and dissolving them into the hot water. Stirring them in, my heart pounded, knowing exactly what I was doing. I smiled as I thought about what would happen.
“What are you smiling about?” my dad barked as he stared at me.
I turned to him with an innocent expression and shook my head. “Nothing. I was just bringing Mom her tea.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. I knew he wanted to say something more to me. I had seen him start to change over the past few months. No one else saw it. They all thought we were all perfectly happy, just struggling to get by. My dad was great about putting up a good front, letting everyone believe that everything was right in his life. The truth was, he was becoming more and more of a jerk with each passing day. And when my mom passed, it would only get worse. I knew this, yet I also didn’t regret what I was about to do. She was weak, but I was strong enough to do what needed to be done.
I picked up the mug and took it into my mom, smiling as I handed it down to her. She smiled sweetly at me, having no idea what I was doing to her. I was her sweet girl, as she told me all the time. I wondered if she would think that still as her heart started to give out. Would she still see me as a sweet girl? Would she still think of me as her baby girl? It didn’t really matter. I was doing what needed to be done.
She gripped my hand and pulled me closer to her so she could whisper in my ear. “It’s for the best, baby girl.”
I jerked back and looked at her in confusion. She took her first sip, closing her eyes as she swallowed her tea. When her eyes opened again, she looked resigned, like she knew what was happening, but how could that be?
“Sit with me one last time, baby.”
She
