Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image. You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- cry. This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.
Mom carefully studied my expression, as if she really was seeing me- the grown-up me. “Sweetie, you’ve been through so much more than some people twice your age have dealt with. I’m so proud of you for how you take each day. I know it’s not easy.” Cocking her head to the side, she elaborated. “Saying it’s not easy is a dramatic understatement. I’m not sure I have the words to describe how I’ve observed your life the past several months.”
“I appreciate you, mom. I still cry, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over Garrett. I’m so sad he isn’t here to hold Ryan, actually be part of the little person we created together. But, when I want to melt down, I look at Ryan and he’s the same reason keeping me sane and even a semblance of solid. He’s worth so much more than me crawling under a rock and forgetting I have a life.”I just wanted one full day when I didn’t cry.
“Thank you, I didn’t even think of all that.”
“No worries, it’s done.” Getting up slowly, she cradled Ryan closely into her arms. From a roll top desk, she pointed toward a stack of letters and other mail. “On top here is the letter from the attorney’s office. Everything underneath is yours too.”
“Why would we get a letter from an attorney? We didn’t have any legal business pending.” Immediately, I needed to know. Ignoring the other mail, I grabbed the letter and took it to the couch. Sitting down, I prepared myself to open it. If mom had any prior knowledge about this, she wasn’t speaking up.
Carefully sliding the envelope open, I found one single sheet inside. The simple note expressed condolences before requesting I make an appointment to see the local lawyer. Waving the page around in the air, I was dumbfounded. “The attorney wants me to come in to his office. Do you have any clue about this?”
“I don’t, but, I’ll go with you.”
I made an appointment for the following morning.
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