Chapter 26
Now I wasn't sure
whose hands it had reached.
“Willa,” I said carefully,
“I'm going to check something.”
“Okay.”
“But there's one thing
I want you to understand right now.”
“What?”
“I have always been proud of you.”
She began crying again.
“And none of this
is something you caused.”
We spoke for nearly an hour.
About her classes.
Her job.
Her plans after graduation.
The boyfriend she had recently broken up with.
The apartment she hoped to rent.
Ordinary things.
Beautifully ordinary things.
Before hanging up,
she asked if she could visit.
I answered immediately.
“Anytime.”
She arrived the following weekend.
She parked beside my old truck
and climbed out holding
a small bouquet of yellow flowers.
When she saw me,
she hesitated.
Then she ran.
I caught her in my arms.
She hugged me so tightly
I nearly lost my balance.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you too.”
We stood in the driveway
until she began laughing
through her tears.
Then I took her inside.
I showed her the photograph
from the graduation card.
It was still saved on my computer.
I also found the bank record
for the check.
Miriam later helped clarify
where the funds had gone.
The check had been deposited
into an account controlled by Ranata.
Willa had never received the gift.
That discovery became another documented matter
for the investigators to examine.
But when Willa first visited,
I didn't make money
the center of our reunion.
I showed her the orchard.
We walked beside the irrigation pond.
She remembered feeding ducks there
when she was little.
We laughed about the afternoon
she had dropped one of my tools
into a bucket of muddy water
and convinced herself
she had ruined the entire farm.
“You told me
tools were supposed to get dirty,”
she said.
“They are.”
She looked around.
“I never understood
why Mom said you were struggling.”
I smiled sadly.
“I think she needed people
to believe that.”
Willa looked at me.
“Why?”
I considered the question.
“Sometimes people become so frightened
of appearing unsuccessful
that they stop being honest
about what success means.”
She thought about that.
Then she asked,
“Are you angry with her?”
“Yes.”
“Do you hate her?”
I looked toward the oak tree.
“No.”
Willa seemed relieved.
I continued.
“But loving someone
doesn't mean pretending
they haven't hurt people.”
She nodded slowly.
“I don't know what to feel.”