whether I should open it or not. Do I want to know what he had to say to me after the last time I saw him? Pushing to my feet, I take the letter and step out onto the screened in front porch that I spent so many times shooting the shit with Frank, while he rocked in his chair and sipped moonshine. In the years I knew him, he taught me so much about life.
Wanting to feel closer to him while reading his words, I sit in his chair and unfold the paper.
Mitchell,
If you’re reading this, I’ve been given my final orders. Nothing to be sad about here, son. I’ve been waiting a long time to see my girls again. Do what you want with the house, it’s not like I’ll need it where I’m going. Everything is yours now, except my truck. I’d like that to go to Micah.
I’ve never been one for anything fancy, so don’t go to a bunch of trouble putting me away. Bury me in the plot between Joyce and Becky, or cremate me and scatter my charred ass down by the river. Do whatever you feel is best, it’s not like I’m in any position to argue.
You’re a good man, son. Was proud to have you with Becky. What happened wasn’t fair, but life never is. I know why you left and I understand, but time moves on and demands we move on with it or be left behind. I gave you time and space, but I’m a stubborn and persistent man, Mitchell. I’m going to get the last word even if it’s in my god-damned will.
Don’t spend your life mourning the dead. No one truly wishes to die, Mitchell. But once you’re gone, you don’t want to come back.
I’ll take care of the girls until you get here and save you a seat beside me, facing the water.
Frank
Folding the letter, I tuck it into the front pocket of my jeans. Sitting back in the chair, I stare out at the yard, barely making out the path in the moonlight that leads down to the river. It’s hard to believe that I’ll never see Frank stepping out from the break in the tree line carrying his catch again. I guess the old man was right; no matter how much we refuse to face it, time moves on, whether we are ready or not.
Chapter Eleven
Shelby
“Thanks for ridin’ up with me,” Luke says, signaling to turn into the cemetery. “I didn’t want to make the drive alone.”
“It’s no problem,” I reply, looking out the window.
When Luke said that Kionna was sick and unable to attend the funeral with him, I couldn’t help volunteering to take the day off and ride up with him. Mitch’s phone call left me unsettled. With Becky’s grandfather passing away, nothing between us has been resolved; but that isn’t what has me anxious. It has taken everything in me not to drive the nearly four hundred miles several times, since he hung up the phone the other night.
I can’t get the way he looked in the storage room out of my head. His eyes looked so empty, so sad and lost. The minute I pulled the door closed, I heard him shout followed by the crash of what I now know was his fist hitting the wall. He could have ripped my heart out and it wouldn’t have hurt that much. I have never felt so small, so in over my head in my life. I don’t know how to help him. Hell, I don’t even know what to expect when we see him.
The more time I spend with Mitch, I learn exactly how little I really know about him. He is like a puzzle that I am trying to put together. I find a piece here and there, but they are all edge pieces. I feel like huge parts of the puzzle that is Mitch Taylor are here in Fallon. I also know that this is the place he is most vulnerable, which only makes him more unpredictable.
“Have you talked to him today?” I ask as Luke parks beside an old truck.
“I’ve called, but it went to voicemail,” Luke replies, his brow furrowing. “Look, I know that things between you two are…”
“Complicated?” I ask, trying to finish his sentence for him.
“Sure; I was gonna say on the verge of homicide, but let’s go with complicated.” Shutting off the engine, he shifts
Wanting to feel closer to him while reading his words, I sit in his chair and unfold the paper.
Mitchell,
If you’re reading this, I’ve been given my final orders. Nothing to be sad about here, son. I’ve been waiting a long time to see my girls again. Do what you want with the house, it’s not like I’ll need it where I’m going. Everything is yours now, except my truck. I’d like that to go to Micah.
I’ve never been one for anything fancy, so don’t go to a bunch of trouble putting me away. Bury me in the plot between Joyce and Becky, or cremate me and scatter my charred ass down by the river. Do whatever you feel is best, it’s not like I’m in any position to argue.
You’re a good man, son. Was proud to have you with Becky. What happened wasn’t fair, but life never is. I know why you left and I understand, but time moves on and demands we move on with it or be left behind. I gave you time and space, but I’m a stubborn and persistent man, Mitchell. I’m going to get the last word even if it’s in my god-damned will.
Don’t spend your life mourning the dead. No one truly wishes to die, Mitchell. But once you’re gone, you don’t want to come back.
I’ll take care of the girls until you get here and save you a seat beside me, facing the water.
Frank
Folding the letter, I tuck it into the front pocket of my jeans. Sitting back in the chair, I stare out at the yard, barely making out the path in the moonlight that leads down to the river. It’s hard to believe that I’ll never see Frank stepping out from the break in the tree line carrying his catch again. I guess the old man was right; no matter how much we refuse to face it, time moves on, whether we are ready or not.
Chapter Eleven
Shelby
“Thanks for ridin’ up with me,” Luke says, signaling to turn into the cemetery. “I didn’t want to make the drive alone.”
“It’s no problem,” I reply, looking out the window.
When Luke said that Kionna was sick and unable to attend the funeral with him, I couldn’t help volunteering to take the day off and ride up with him. Mitch’s phone call left me unsettled. With Becky’s grandfather passing away, nothing between us has been resolved; but that isn’t what has me anxious. It has taken everything in me not to drive the nearly four hundred miles several times, since he hung up the phone the other night.
I can’t get the way he looked in the storage room out of my head. His eyes looked so empty, so sad and lost. The minute I pulled the door closed, I heard him shout followed by the crash of what I now know was his fist hitting the wall. He could have ripped my heart out and it wouldn’t have hurt that much. I have never felt so small, so in over my head in my life. I don’t know how to help him. Hell, I don’t even know what to expect when we see him.
The more time I spend with Mitch, I learn exactly how little I really know about him. He is like a puzzle that I am trying to put together. I find a piece here and there, but they are all edge pieces. I feel like huge parts of the puzzle that is Mitch Taylor are here in Fallon. I also know that this is the place he is most vulnerable, which only makes him more unpredictable.
“Have you talked to him today?” I ask as Luke parks beside an old truck.
“I’ve called, but it went to voicemail,” Luke replies, his brow furrowing. “Look, I know that things between you two are…”
“Complicated?” I ask, trying to finish his sentence for him.
“Sure; I was gonna say on the verge of homicide, but let’s go with complicated.” Shutting off the engine, he shifts
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